tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654182535636302722024-02-18T18:33:51.356-08:00Memories, etc.It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.comBlogger88125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-67938686982883288942011-11-30T10:53:00.001-08:002011-11-30T11:00:36.636-08:00Mah-wage.A fabulous excerpt on the definition of integrity as it applies to marriage, from Marriage Transformation:<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span>Integrity means that our ideals, intentions, words, and actions are honest, just, defensible, and in harmony as a couple. <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span>We choose the best words and behavior for each circumstance. Our clear moral and ethical code guides our lives and work. <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span>We do not allow others to influence us to lower our standards. <span class="text_exposed_hide"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span></span>Our integrity contributes to the harmony and trust in our marriage. We do not inappropriately keep secrets. <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span>We use reflection, prayer, consultation, and spiritual guidance to strengthen our integrity.<span class="messageBody" ft="{"type":3}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span>Integrity is achieving a state of balance and wholeness in life and character</span></span>.<br /><br />I probably don't tell my husband this enough (Husband? Are you reading this?) but I feel incredibly fortunate to have married a man who is strong enough to stand up for his family, who works with me to set and enforce appropriate limits for those whose relationships directly affect us (hey, isn't that pretty much everyone?), who calls me on my crap (sometimes this happens daily. When you're married sometimes you find out that you have a lot of crap.), who graciously accepts it when I call him on his crap, and who does other awesome things, like laundry and making morning breakfast scrambles.<br /><br />I love that man.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-3327183957628038382010-12-12T18:57:00.001-08:002010-12-12T19:09:32.014-08:00Lord give me patience, because if you give me strength I might choke someone.I'm sure you've run into them too - those insipid creatures who demand their own way at the expense of your patience, who kick their feet and sob when something goes wrong, who sometimes seem to be the behavioral equivalent of a ticking time bomb. No, I'm not talking about toddlers - I'm talking about adults who act like 'em. I ran across a print by a lovely artist out of Iowa recently that very much reminded me of the particular brand of behavior that I am forced to deal with all too often:<br /><br />"What are the rules? I said & she said, Do exactly what I want whenever I want, make no demands of me whatsoever & love me forever, no questions asked & I said, how do you win? & she said, you don't understand. I'm the only one who wins & then she laughed & clapped her hands. Isn't it a great game? she said." - Brian Andreas<br /><br />How do you deal with the people in your life who seem to only be pleased when everyone else is miserable? Personally, I'm finding that a combination of techniques from Supernanny (calm, consistent behavior with follow-through on consequences) and Cesar Millan (no hitting, beating, or poking) seems to be working nicely.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-64638315155716341552010-12-11T10:34:00.000-08:002010-12-11T11:07:50.248-08:00Courage & Love & PlayDo you ever have moments where you think, "When I have kids, I'm going to..." or "I swear I will never do that to my children?" I do. In no particular order, a list of promises to my as-yet unborn (and unconceived - let's not get ahead of ourselves) child(ren):<br /><br />1. I will do everything I can to help you pay for higher education. You pretty much need that to get almost any kind of a job these days, and I want you to graduate with as little debt as possible. That said - this does not mean you can go to whatever school you want, so calm down there, Study Abroad McGee.<br /><br />2. I will never threaten to "pull this car over." Unless you are really being bad.<br /><br />3. We will go camping as a family.<br /><br />4. Yes, you can have a puppy.<br /><br />5. If Aunty Melissa, Maggie, and S.S. take you to get your tongue pierced when we come visit you at college, I won't be mad. (If you do get your tongue pierced, it's probably best to avoid eating with forks for the first few days. Don't ask Mommy how she knows this.)<br /><br />6. I will provide your clothes, shoes, cheerleading outfits, soccer uniforms, ballet tights, paintbrushes, and clarinet reeds, regardless of your gender. However, after you turn 16, if you want the cool jeans, you are going to need to make up the difference in cost yourself.<br /><br />7. I am going to make you get a job in high school. You might hate me for it, but you'll thank me later, when you have work experience, money, and the beginnings of a resume.<br /><br />8. I will love your spouse and welcome him/her into our family. Unless he/she is abusive, an unrepentant alcoholic, or tells me to shush at Thanksgiving so he/she can watch the football game, I will love the person you choose to share your life with as much as I love you. Even if they chew with their mouth open. Ew.<br /><br />9. I will do my very best to never make you feel like a horrible person. When I am wrong, I will apologize. I will teach you to do the same. I will respect you as a human being. I may not be your friend while you are growing up, but I will do my best to raise you to be a loving, capable, self-sufficient adult: and when the time comes for you to go and live your own life and embody the very qualities that your Daddy and I will try to instill in you - I will let you go and be the person you are.<br /><br />10. I will have an identity outside of you. It will be better for both of us - trust me.<br /><br />11. I am not sending you to daycare because I don't want to spend every day with you - I am sending you to daycare because it will socialize you, allow you to develop immunity to multiple childhood diseases, and because if Mommy and Daddy have two incomes, we're all going to have more opportunities. (See #1.) Also, if Mommy doesn't spend at least part of her day talking to grownups, Mommy will go crazy.<br /><br />12. I will let you paint your bedroom whatever color you want. Even bubblegum pink. Even if you are a boy.<br /><br />13. I will never say the phrase, "Go give such-and-such a hug." I will teach you that your body is your own - and if you don't want to hug someone, you don't have to.<br /><br />14. I will consider the way I treat you, and I will always try to treat you with respect. I will consider the things I am doing, and the things I am saying, and I will try to never, never say things that you will remember years later with the uncomfortable stingy feeling you get when someone says something horrible.<br /><br />15. Your daddy and I will do our best to give you a childhood filled with mostly happy memories. That said, you will be appropriately punished. For example, if you color on the walls, you will become really good friends with Mr. Clean's Magic Eraser. You know better. Seriously.<br /><br />16. You will always be allowed to build forts in the living room.<br /><br />"This is a dress-up box for the future & it's filled with stuff like courage & love & play because they're the only things that are any use at all when you get right down to it." - Brian AndreasErinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-10308341431685680032010-12-11T00:58:00.000-08:002010-12-11T01:11:03.706-08:00Sometimes, you can't fix crazy.When you take stock of your life, do you get along with the majority of the people in it? How do you feel about your peers, your co-workers, your family, your teachers? If you're getting along with 99% of them, with the exception of 1 or 2 people who strike you as completely, positively, diagnose-ably crazy (or whom, at the very least, are just jerks), more than likely, the problem truly isn't you - it's them.<br /><br />However, if you have issues with your family, very few friends, are unhappily trudging down your educational or career path, and are going through life with the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that everyone is mean, rude, horrible, or out to get you, odds are - you're the problem.<br /><br />Society, and our relationships therein, can be a wonderful litmus for evaluating our mental state, or at the very least our level of functionality as we relate to our fellow humans.<br /><br />Many, many thanks to a counselor I saw some time ago for introducing me to this concept. It helps me take stock of my life and my attitude - and more importantly, is distinctly comforting when I'm confronted with the 1% and their abject irrationality.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-38203024804432197642010-03-13T10:22:00.000-08:002010-03-13T11:25:55.797-08:00Recollections from a barf bag6:30 - 7:30 a.m. - woke up, showered in notoriously small cruise ship bathroom, packed, bolted from bro-filled ship. Sad to leave tropical beaches - not sad to leave group of approximately 2000 spring breakers, most of whom were wearing Greek shirts emblazoned with obnoxious sayings. ("I don't cruise control, I control the cruise," "Bitches, booze, bros.")<div><br /></div><div>7:47 a.m. - caught shuttle from pier in Miami to airport in Ft. Lauderdale. </div><div><br /></div><div>7:52 a.m. - sat quietly in shuttle with six other people while port authorities yelled at our shuttle driver for a. not having his pier ID and b. the fact that the shuttle company owed the port approximately $2900. Found out we were the first, last and only shuttle that would be allowed out today. Thank goodness - a cab to the airport from Miami would also cost approximately $2900.</div><div><br /></div><div>8:23 a.m. - arrive at FLL for our scheduled 12:30 p.m. flight. Check in, grab coffee, settle in for an anticipated four-hour wait. </div><div><br /></div><div>8:47 a.m. - find out flight is delayed to 1:10 p.m. </div><div><br /></div><div>9:33 a.m. - find out flight is delayed to 1:50 p.m. </div><div><br /></div><div>9:42 a.m. - bathroom break! Stopped by Broward County sheriff, who inquires as to whether there is a man in the woman's bathroom, as someone had reported a potential predator lurking there. Before he goes in and causes more chaos, he asks me to look in and see if there is, in fact, an XY in the XX pool. I peek in - the "predator" is an 80-some year old man wearing a cardigan sweater who is helping his 80-some year old wife (also wearing a cardigan sweater, hers emblazoned with embroidered flip-flops and palm trees) out of her automated wheelchair and into the handicapped stall. Ooh, scary!</div><div><br /></div><div>11:03 a.m. - find out flight is delayed to 2:20 p.m.</div><div><br /></div><div>11:40 a.m. - realized our food options in Terminal 1 consisted of Dunkin' Donuts and two vending machines. Out of desperation and the need for sustenance, we chat with an airport employee and are advised to broaden our search area. Apparently the only real food options at Ft. Lauderdale are in Terminal 3, a short shuttle ride and two escalators away. We opt to eat at Chili's To Go! in Terminal 3 - what's a short shuttle ride and a bit of a walk, we say? Speaking of to go - my GI tract will not thank me later. </div><div><br /></div><div>12:53 p.m. - head to the airport bookstore to stock up on books and magazines. Calculate that we have spent more money on food, books, and entertainment today that we have spent the entire duration of the cruise.</div><div><br /></div><div>1:30 p.m. - find out flight is delayed to 3:40 p.m. </div><div><br /></div><div>1:33 p.m. - check with Southwest attendant to see whether flights will actually be leaving today. Promised matching sets of Southwest jammies if we are delayed past midnight. </div><div><br /></div><div>1:40 p.m. - crack up at the extremely gay attendant manning the overhead announcements: "Michael Shaw - if you want to go to Orlando today you had better run to gate B6 like you have never run before!" </div><div><br /></div><div>2:03 p.m. - find out flight is delayed to 4:20 p.m. </div><div><br /></div><div>2:27 p.m. - find out flight is delayed to 4:50 p.m. </div><div><br /></div><div>2:59 p.m. - start to wonder whether Southwest is toying with us as part of some sort of sick psychological experiment. Try to be annoyed at Southwest, then realize that it's impossible, because a. I've never been delayed on Southwest, ever, and b. if Southwest is delayed by several hours, the poor suckers flying AirTran are probably delayed until Tuesday. </div><div><br /></div><div>3:03 p.m. - find out flight is delayed to 5:30 p.m. </div><div><br /></div><div>3:17 p.m. - purchase Elizabeth Gilbert's book "Committed." Bookstore guy promises a 50% refund if I return it to an airport bookstore in 6 months. Reassure him that I will probably be returning it in 6 hours, as I will more than likely still be here. </div><div><br /></div><div>4:03 p.m. - 80 pages into new book. Good read - highly recommended!</div><div><br /></div><div>4:21 p.m. - find out flight is delayed to 7:50 p.m.</div><div><br /></div><div>5:00 p.m. - flight is still delayed to 7:50 p.m. </div><div><br /></div><div>5:15 p.m. - flight is still delayed to 7:50 p.m. Our fellow passengers are steadily beginning to wilt. Hair is frizzing, countenances are drooping, breath is getting bad. An air of growing solidarity descends upon the airport as we realize that we may, in fact, be sleeping here tonight. An un-reassuring statement from a Southwest employee lends to the sense of dread - "Don't worry, we'll get you out of here! Last night we had flights getting in until 3 a.m.!" </div><div><br /></div><div>5:40 p.m. - flight is still delayed to 7:50 p.m. </div><div><br /></div><div>5:45 p.m. - confirm with attendant that flight is still delayed to 7:50 p.m. </div><div><br /></div><div>5:50 p.m. - decide to head to Chili's again for an attempt at dinner. Board bus to go to Chili's, located 2 terminals away. </div><div><br /></div><div>5:59 p.m. - arrive at Chili's, have lovely conversation with Canadian man about their healthcare system, sit down, informed by harried waiter that food will take 30 minutes. </div><div><br /></div><div>6:20 p.m. - On a whim, text to check flight status. </div><div><br /></div><div>6:20:21 p.m. - Flight is listed as departing at 6:30 p.m. Surely not - call mom to confirm. </div><div><br /></div><div>6:20:42 p.m. - Dinner, in the form of a cheesesteak sandwich only slightly less tired-looking than our fellow passengers, is delivered to the table.</div><div><br /></div><div>6:21 p.m. - Mom confirms flight is boarding. </div><div><br /></div><div>6:21:01 p.m. - Exclaim obscenities, throw cash at waiter, abandon sandwich on table, bolt. </div><div><br /></div><div>6:21:30 p.m. - Last people to board bus at Terminal 3. Explain situation to driver, who makes a perfunctory swerve at Terminal 4 (to fulfill the requirement that he stop there) and then floors it for Terminal 1. En route, exchange less than encouraging story with man on bus who missed his last flight because they moved up the departure time. Man on bus - "Yeah, they can move up the flight times any time a plane gets in. That happened to us last time we were here." Me - "Did you make the flight?" Man - "Um. No." </div><div><br /></div><div>6:21:31 p.m. - attempt to fight off feeling of hopelessness. Mentally check status of bank account to determine whether cab to hotel, hotel, and replacement airline tickets are feasible, or if we will have to remain permanent residents of Ft. Lauderdale with nothing but the clothes on our backs, four magazines, two books, and a camera to get us through. </div><div><br /></div><div>6:23 p.m. - Arrive at Terminal 1. First people off bus. Hit sidewalk at a dead sprint. Husband's statement earlier in the day that "These flip-flops would be really bad for running," now seems to have ominous overtones. Husband and I remove shoes, run through lower level, take escalator two steps at a time, and arrive at security. Make mental note to be impressed later at husband's ability to hurdle an old lady's suitcase in a single bound. </div><div><br /></div><div>6:23:41 - Make it through security. Two people in front of us allow us to cut. Security guard finds water bottle in purse. Conversation as follows: security guy - "Is this water?" Me - "Yes I forgot about it my flight is leaving now please just throw it away!" Security guy - "You're going to have to come with me while I search your bag." Me - "OK, just please hurry!" Security guy smiles evilly. S.G. goes through purse, insists on sending purse through x-ray again, then finally lets me go. Note to security at Ft. Lauderdale airport - your people are awesome at removing water bottles. But I would like to point out that my husband's pocket knife made it through not one, not two, but FOUR screenings. Maybe sharp objects aren't as dangerous in the hands of thirsty people? Meanwhile, Husband is flustered, and, in his hurry, neglects to remove his belt, cell phone, spare change, and wallet the first time he goes through the metal detector. Necessitates two more trips through metal detector before he is finally cleared. (Mind you, due to our eight-hour delay and constant ins and outs, this is his third time through security today, and the only time that he had a problem.) </div><div><br /></div><div>6:25 p.m. - Finally clear security and begin mad dash to gate. </div><div><br /></div><div>6:26 p.m. - hear gay announcer on overhead - "Erin Jamison and Andrew Johnson, we love you, but we're going to have to leave without you!" </div><div><br /></div><div>6:27 p.m. - Husband and I's sprints take different trajectories, resulting in me getting tangled in his garment bag, tripping, and falling into the laps of two ladies. Jerk posing as a business man behind us says, "Way to go - nice one!" and then explains that he is heading to the same flight, and he sees no reason to hurry. Good for you, sir - perhaps your aversion to hurry is the fact that you weigh 300 pounds? Andrew, ever the gentleman, insists that he board the plane before us.</div><div><br /></div><div>6:28 p.m. - With the flight attendant cheering us on, we skid into the gate, thrust our tickets at her, and run on to the plane, shoes in hand. After collapsing into our seats, we learn that we have made the last flight from Ft. Lauderdale to Kansas City for THREE DAYS, due to weather delays and sell-outs. I have never been so happy to be on a plane in my life. </div><div><br /></div><div>6:30 p.m. - Cleared for takeoff. Kansas City, here we come - every last sweaty, panting one of us. </div><div><br /></div><div>*Note - the title "Recollections from a barf bag" was inspired by the fact that this post is transcribed from scribbles on, you guessed it, a barf bag. </div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-16653974319387441692010-01-14T14:40:00.000-08:002010-01-14T14:47:12.777-08:00Xanax smoothie with a side of down comforter, please.I am cranky and exhausted. <div><br /></div><div>I thought it would be a fabulous idea to get a job. My new schedule is class 8-4 Monday and Thursday, clinical 6:30-3 Tuesday and Wednesday, work 6:45 p.m. to 7:15 a.m. Thursday and Friday. Fridays and part of Saturdays are used for sleep. Sunday is for studying. Probably not so coincidentally, school stopped being fun about the same time that I started working. I feel like I have absolutely no down time - every minute is spent either sleeping, eating, studying, or at work. I feel pulled in a million different directions and the only direction I actually want to go in is toward the couch. Plus, I feel like I'm quickly losing nursing school friends just because I've become "that girl who always says no." I'm sure this will be worth it in August, but for now I just feel overwhelmed.</div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-88199947604233452882009-12-13T18:50:00.000-08:002009-12-13T18:57:35.389-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0dmgg8-mWF8GOvXg4ruV_h5B8hAPp74fH3sQPR3fhHO3e2VN1qjJVFcSu1jP4ey8aIwdQ2gPtKCJwrGULp5acXaxD0hOsuYp6g5aS_hn8R1wenUN1G9z4zVZg3Emb0r9JXIBio7ee9M/s1600-h/Photo+15.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0dmgg8-mWF8GOvXg4ruV_h5B8hAPp74fH3sQPR3fhHO3e2VN1qjJVFcSu1jP4ey8aIwdQ2gPtKCJwrGULp5acXaxD0hOsuYp6g5aS_hn8R1wenUN1G9z4zVZg3Emb0r9JXIBio7ee9M/s400/Photo+15.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414919791513275266" /></a>This photo pretty much sums up how I feel about nursing school finals. (Exhibit A - Manifestation Man, Hypo- and Hypernatremia.) Fluid and electrolytes/musculoskeletal/sensory test tomorrow, pharm test Tuesday, and then, you can find me at 10:15 a.m. with some lovely future nurses, sipping a sparkling water and having my nails whipped back into shape. But for now - I'm wearing pajama pants, have crazy hair (not to be outdone by crazy eyes) and have become a shadow of my former self. And, last night I picked a fight with my husband. For no reason. I just. Want. This week. To be over. Not even over - I'd settle for Tuesday.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-23003175160561457502009-12-12T18:39:00.000-08:002009-12-12T18:41:53.892-08:00A rebirthI think, that after a long and much-needed break from the blogging world, that I may come back. I've missed writing as an outlet. Much like when I first started blogging, I keep staring at the page and wondering what to write, and how I could possibly begin after being out for almost a year. I think, much like when I first started blogging, I'm just going to have to start by typing something. <div><br /></div><div>So hi. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm back.</div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-47236969193309560742008-11-28T00:03:00.001-08:002008-11-28T00:04:43.665-08:00I think...This was one of the best Thanksgivings ever. Yay, friends! Yay, great food! Yay, going to sleep off a turkey-induced coma! G'night!Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-34707369269097885382008-11-27T01:00:00.000-08:002008-11-27T01:20:31.431-08:00Random notes from Thanksgiving preparation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUMOrl5BLykrESaVuT9A7Do-CdK9eljrkVI6o8aYt_4jSmajb3g5yPAM1xchm0qGvxV8beEDQf-OU-ZJqg-3-WD0-PThjN3pqd13aHVAW8m76ZmWEtQnh1YWnfenOeIf618GvCmhi0yo8/s1600-h/images.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 123px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUMOrl5BLykrESaVuT9A7Do-CdK9eljrkVI6o8aYt_4jSmajb3g5yPAM1xchm0qGvxV8beEDQf-OU-ZJqg-3-WD0-PThjN3pqd13aHVAW8m76ZmWEtQnh1YWnfenOeIf618GvCmhi0yo8/s400/images.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273263766388743714" border="0" /></a>-We pick up The Bird from Baby Blues BBQ in Venice tomorrow. Oh, deep-fried turkey that I do not have to deep fry, how I love you so.<br /><br />-Whole Foods is insane the night before Thanksgiving.<br /><br />-The plastic flamingo in our front garden is wearing a turkey costume.<br /><br />-Every nook and cranny of our house is shiny-clean, and the entire place smells like a combo of lemon and cinnamon. It's cozy.<br /><br />-Tomorrow we embark on a pie-making, green-bean casserole concocting, potato-mashing journey. Dinner is at 4. Wish us luck.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-61004038937999323602008-11-17T08:27:00.001-08:002008-11-17T08:31:28.970-08:00My husband is good at surprises.This is what greeted me when I walked out the front door on the morning of my birthday:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Ms0S9n7dOrgbS3X_P5dM9wbeZA1ciWsvx9m4o7D82bnnoILRQ5Nnd5w8wg7KW22FwFg_4dsr1QLa8hgmA-JvqzxbGNMUj-FJu_cCm2tpOK8byERJwCIk5RZj97MZOqh30DKIovmpcX4/s1600-h/bike.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Ms0S9n7dOrgbS3X_P5dM9wbeZA1ciWsvx9m4o7D82bnnoILRQ5Nnd5w8wg7KW22FwFg_4dsr1QLa8hgmA-JvqzxbGNMUj-FJu_cCm2tpOK8byERJwCIk5RZj97MZOqh30DKIovmpcX4/s400/bike.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269664526704877218" border="0" /></a><br />Yes, that IS a bright, shiny Trek hybrid. Rock! Or should I say roll?Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-88345216723761414812008-11-13T22:32:00.001-08:002008-11-13T22:36:06.260-08:00Why I love Los Angeles, Part I<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi16i8L56DaOoECtEqJfnSOaVwYAd_oEnKmGxlCuMZyuQuH_p1MoKOKE_Y1pUmKTqQDeHqTjNLvOSlbe1o7hRwjPDCteVIHn1wHJOW_gqrF-t48iPYT72ZHn9R808AJhOTMCS2ARJHZN4k/s1600-h/121544102_770cf42947_m.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi16i8L56DaOoECtEqJfnSOaVwYAd_oEnKmGxlCuMZyuQuH_p1MoKOKE_Y1pUmKTqQDeHqTjNLvOSlbe1o7hRwjPDCteVIHn1wHJOW_gqrF-t48iPYT72ZHn9R808AJhOTMCS2ARJHZN4k/s400/121544102_770cf42947_m.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268397757715165682" border="0" /></a>This morning we went to free yoga in the park. I would like to point out that it's November, and I was definitely barefoot, wearing a tank top...and sweating. I love Los Angeles.<br />(Photo credit <a href="http://flickr.com/people/salomon888/">salomon888</a>)Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-30689894110606969022008-11-12T21:19:00.000-08:002008-11-12T22:38:44.955-08:00Cougar CafeAuthor's note: I am well aware of the fact that I haven't blogged in months. Getting married and a subsequent move halfway across the country, the realization that I would need to figure out an alternative plan for nursing school, and the fact that I needed to find a job all took up a bit of time. Excuses aside, I'm back; we're married; life is good. My blog style will be changing slightly - for now, I've decided to blog short snippets of real life, with the occasional profound foray into All Things Deep and Philosophical. Without further ado...<br /><br />Today my dog jumped off a cliff.<br /><br />To elaborate:<br /><br />Today my ever-fabulous neighbor, Lanie, and I took our dogs to Runyon Canyon. Basically, it's a 134-acre off-leash park with a wide path that gradually climbs to the top of the canyon, affording views of downtown L.A., the Hollywood sign, and on clear days, the Pacific Ocean.<br /><br />The pooches loved it. All was going swimmingly until Lanie's pooch, Calliope, found a stray tennis ball. My somewhat intellectually challenged dachshund, Badger, loves tennis balls. Now, we use the word "love" a lot - we "love" pizza, we'd "love" to take a nap. This does not compare to the way Badger loves balls. He loves them, pardon the expression, like a fat kid loves cake. He will do ANYTHING for a tennis ball. He proved it today when one of the dogs let the ball drop on an inclined part of the path.<br /><br />The ball rolled over the edge - and Badger soared over after it. Just to give you an idea of this "edge" I reference, please see the photo<span style="font-size:85%;">*</span> below.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7jVeG4QsIPJslRnwZnfq8-NbHUw-eZ72PCAyv9tsVMBdtz-qFnCqpgWer0DOmDh3nAnOJXIbZsJNzKxAIq6Huywv1fUyTqEZWGAHpFvJwzjDr_3rZKbDQPxr9In1T3kRFOym5yIYbdD0/s1600-h/382485357_5448b65869.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7jVeG4QsIPJslRnwZnfq8-NbHUw-eZ72PCAyv9tsVMBdtz-qFnCqpgWer0DOmDh3nAnOJXIbZsJNzKxAIq6Huywv1fUyTqEZWGAHpFvJwzjDr_3rZKbDQPxr9In1T3kRFOym5yIYbdD0/s400/382485357_5448b65869.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268027255854253138" border="0" /></a><br />See the path? Yeah. See the drop? Yeah. That's what Badger leapt from. The dog has a death wish, I swear. I turned around in time to see a flash of golden-brown fur flying down the slope...and then nothing. I was sure my dog had been eaten by a cougar. (An actual cougar, not a forty-year-old woman dating a twenty-year-old man. Although, now that I think about it, there are probably more two-legged cougars than four-legged ones at Runyon, and they really have no interest in dining on dachshund.)<br /><br />We called. We cajoled. We started to draw a crowd at the top of the hill. Lanie began stripping off layers so she could dive down after Badger and Calliope, who had now decided to follow Badger down on a rescue mission. And then, in a moment that truly should have had musical accompaniment, (c'mon, Hollywood, where are you when I need you?) Badger and Calliope emerged intact from the brush, Badger with the hard-won tennis ball clamped in his jaws.<br /><br />The rest of the Runyon trip was uneventful. The ride home was peaceful. Fierce was taken directly to the groomer for a wash 'n curl and is now a pretty, pretty princess. Badger has been asleep for the last six hours. Los Angeles? I think I love you. Tomorrow: My love/hate relationship with IKEA.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMKFoaY-CBdCL_r6sjbCZBeIXN2Gl8xX_vW2gvWdG2jcLHXEQTIU0RTybR_kAzHlo4TFW_a0Z43rZ611nBRuOdVy7iPhfSy5HBet_2u6XuSpOMNz_Q_ecAnjHKaiOEJm6hf4tmFIFBwk/s1600-h/DSCF0880.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 218px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMKFoaY-CBdCL_r6sjbCZBeIXN2Gl8xX_vW2gvWdG2jcLHXEQTIU0RTybR_kAzHlo4TFW_a0Z43rZ611nBRuOdVy7iPhfSy5HBet_2u6XuSpOMNz_Q_ecAnjHKaiOEJm6hf4tmFIFBwk/s400/DSCF0880.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268013446681510338" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">*Photo credit: Alain Demour.</span>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-38927477627797327392008-08-12T12:37:00.001-07:002008-08-12T12:54:02.214-07:00Accepts with pleasureHere's a fun game - go ahead and Google these terms for me:<br /><br />1. Wedding planning<br />2. Preparing for marriage<br /><br />Just play along. Google them. I can wait.<br /><br />OK, you're back? Good. I'm sure you noticed that your efforts were rewarded with roughly 7 million hits on search 1...and 300,000 results on search 2. This seems backwards to me. In wedding reception language, it's almost like serving the five-layer buttercreme-frosted cake before the demi-glazed duck. Putting the tulle-covered carriage before the white horse, even.<br /><br />Where did we get the idea that Choosing a Dress That Will Flatter All Seven of Your Bridesmaids and Still Guarantee That You Will Look Better Than They Will! is more important than preparing for and maintaining what will surely be more important than Your Big Day - namely, the next 50 years of your lives?<br /><br />This "big-day" mindset perpetuates the idea that is probably at the root of America's divorce statistics. I'm sure you're familiar with the numbers, but just in case - they're sitting right around 50%. Now, those surely don't apply across the board, but let's say (for the sake of argument) that they do. In that case, I hope you didn't engrave anything too couple-y on the toaster you gave Amy and Chad* last weekend, because odds are they're going to be in court disputes over who gets the good kitchen stuff sometime within the next seven years.<br /><br />Could these divorce statistics stem from the fact that from the time we're little, we're fed a "happily ever after" mindset?<br /><br />As women, we must sit around and wait for a man on a white horse (or at least driving a white Honda) to sweep us off our feet and away to a life of 2.3 children, a home with a white picket fence, and a perfectly housebroken Labrador. Gentlemen, I certainly hope you are both sensitive and manly, but not too much of either, and only in the appropriate situations. (Sensitivity is never appropriate while watching football. Manly behavior is banned while shopping for throw pillows at IKEA.)<br /><br />Perhaps, as the Tom Robbins says, "we waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love." Maybe we should stop thinking that the ultimate display of love is a $125 bouquet of roses and a box of chocolate. Or let go of the delusion that when love ceases to be "exciting," it certainly must be boring. Perhaps we should learn to accept that the perfection of love lies in its ability to grow, adapt and evolve. <span class="sqq">Perhaps we need to remember -<br /><br />"Love is the ultimate outlaw. It just won't adhere to any rules. The most any of us can do is to sign on as its accomplice. Instead of vowing to honor and obey, maybe we should swear to aid and abet. That would mean that security is out of the question. The words "make" and "stay" become inappropriate. My love for you has no strings attached. I love you for free.”<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">*Names are hypothetical and are not intended to imply misery or doom for any couple named Amy and Chad or variations thereof who may or may not have recently received an engraved toaster.</span><br /></span>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-70616752625717905792008-08-07T20:11:00.000-07:002008-08-07T20:19:44.164-07:00Celebratory weaselsThis is a shallow blog. I'm just warning you - if you're expecting deep or insightful, click onward.<br /><br />I am having my hair put up for our wedding. I'd debated doing it myself, and then remembered several key points -<br /><br />1. I have semi-long, extremely thick, naturally curly hair.<br /><br />2. It is August.<br /><br />3. I live in Kansas.<br /><br />4. Kansas + August + long, thick, curly hair = one potential giant ball of uncooperative frizz.<br /><br />Thus, I have an appointment at a local salon in order to get the mass tamed, pinned, and otherwise coerced into submitting for the better part of eight hours.<br /><br />I have my hair trial next Friday. I'd debated canceling said trial, and then remembered the last two times I had updos done by unknown stylists:<br /><br />Stylist 1: I wound up with a French twist. I haaaaaaate French twists. (Disclaimer: this statement only applies to a French twist on me. Go ahead and twist away - I think they're gorgeous on everyone else.)<br /><br />Stylist 2: I had what appeared to be an angry, lopsided weasel (ALW) living on top of my head.<br /><br />In the hopes of avoiding an angry, lopsided weasel, I went ahead and kept the hair trial. In the event that I DO end up with an ALW, I'm hoping that between Lorenia, Atoosa, Brooke, and a big ol' pile of bobby pins the ALW can at least be turned into a weasel who's there to party.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-17537142212365193122008-08-05T21:17:00.000-07:002008-08-05T21:21:48.871-07:00Dear God: Thank You.Whenever I start to be slightly nervous about moving to Los Angeles (which is directly related to my super-paranoid fear that I'm not good at maintaining friendships, which is directly tied to the fact that a friend of almost ten years decided this year that our friendship wasn't working for her [for the second time]) something happens to reassure me that all is love and light in the world.<br /><br />Today it was a delightful blog comment from Atoosa, and the appearance of my friend Dara at The Cheese. The appearance of Dara at Cheese may not seem too monumental, until you consider that she's spent the last few years in the Peace Corps in Africa and was then off to Italy for Montessori training, and is now in the midst of a move to Toronto. Walking around the corner at work and seeing Dara's sweet face did good, good things for my heart.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-5235598610062171822008-08-03T20:29:00.000-07:002008-08-03T20:41:40.831-07:00What I Did Last WeekThe ol' What I Did Last Summer post is a little too overwhelming, so here's a sample of last week:<br /><br />-Worked National Cheesecake Day at My Favorite Corporate Restaurant on Wednesday. The Cheese Higher-Ups decided it would be a fabulous idea to celebrate by selling slices for $1.50 each. It was a fabulous marketing idea. Until The View and Sprint got ahold of it and informed the entire country. People were showing up in droves (I actually never thought I'd have a chance to use that word in this blog - yippee!) on Wednesday. They waited for an hour in the lobby, and then sat down only to wait for another hour to get a slice of cheesecake for $5 less than normal. I will confess that when a table decided, at 11 p.m., that they wanted to order cheesecake, thus guaranteeing that we would be there at least another hour, I offered them $5 each to just come back and get it the following day at normal price.<br /><br />-Cleaned up the small swimming pool that formed in the basement, kitchen, and living room after the water hose detached from the fridge and began spewing water at the rate of 3 gallons/minute.<br /><br />-Was really glad that wedding dress was not hanging in basement.<br /><br />-Realized that Certain Events involving Certain People this summer have made me super-paranoid and really suspicious.<br /><br />-To-dos: remember that people are inherently good. Forgive people who have made life rough. Pray more. Start noting blog-worthy items in Moleskine, because a heckuva lot more fun stuff happened last week that I am unfortunately unable to remember at this point.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-68675196112115854722008-08-03T15:26:00.000-07:002008-08-03T15:28:15.744-07:00Back!I haven't been able to access Blogger for, like, ever.<br /><br />It appears to be cooperating again, and now I find that I have nothing to say.<br /><br />I'll work on coming up with some witty observation tonight if you'll reassure me that you're still out there after such a long hiatus.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-83354133667389371012008-07-02T08:30:00.000-07:002008-07-02T11:50:36.571-07:00I stole this from Sarah.The Big Read reckons that the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books they've printed. Well let's see.<br />1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.<br />2) Italicize those you intend to read.<br />3) Italicize and bold the books you LOVE.<br />4) Reprint this list in your own blog so we can try and track down these people who've only read 6 and force books upon them. (If you have not read The Handmaid's Tale or A Prayer for Owen Meany, please go to your local library right away.)<br /><br /><br /><u><br /></u><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">1. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austin</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4. Harry Potter series - JK Rowling </span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">5. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">6. The Bible - God</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">7. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">8. 1984- George Orwell</span><i></i><br /><i></i>9. His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman<br />10. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">11. Little Women - Louisa M Alcott</span><br />12. Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy<br />13. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller<br />14. Complete Works of Shakespeare<br />15. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier<br />16. The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien<br />17. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">18. Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">19. The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger</span><br />20. Middlemarch - George Eliot<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">21. Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">22. The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald</span><br />23. Bleak House - Charles Dickens<br />24. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">25. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams</span><br />26. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh<br />27. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky<br />28. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">29. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">30. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame</span><br />31. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy<br />32. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">33. Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis </span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">34. Emma - Jane Austen</span><br />35. Persuasion - Jane Austen<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">36. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">37. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">38. Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">39. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">40. Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">41. Animal Farm - George Orwell</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">42. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">44. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving</span><br />45. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">4</span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">6. Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery</span><br />47. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">48. The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">49. Lord of the Flies - William Golding</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">50. Atonement - Ian McEwan</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">51. Life of Pi - Yann Martel </span><br />52. Dune - Frank Herbert<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">53. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">54. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen</span><br />55. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth<br />56. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon<br />57. A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">58. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">60. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">61. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">62. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov </span><br />63. The Secret History - Donna Tartt<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">64. The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold</span><br />65. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas<br />66. On The Road - Jack Kerouac<br />67. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy<br />68. Bridget Jones' Diary - Helen Fielding<br />69. Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie<br />70. Moby Dick - Herman Melville<br />71. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens<br />72. Dracula - Bram Stoker<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">73. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">74. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson</span><br />75. Ulysses - James Joyce<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">76. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">77. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome</span><br />78. Germinal - Emile Zola<br />79. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray<br />80. Possession - AS Byatt<br />81. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">82. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">83. The Color Purple - Alice Walker</span><br />84. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro<br />85. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert<br />86. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">87. Charlotte's Web - EB White</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">88. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom</span><br />89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">90. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton</span><br />91. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad<br />92. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery<br />93. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">94. Watership Down - Richard Adams</span><br />95. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">96. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute</span><br />97. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas<br />98. Hamlet - William Shakespeare<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">99. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl</span><br />100. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo<i></i>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-25973555826858630902008-07-02T01:11:00.001-07:002008-07-02T01:13:11.752-07:00Not sleepingIt is almost 3:30 a.m. and I am awake.<br /><br />Again.<br /><br />I can sleep - during the day.<br /><br />For now, I will content myself with watching a documentary on bears (thanks Hulu!) and waiting until dawn, at which point I'll probably drift off. Again.<br /><br />Any tips on removing myself from the land of nocturnal creatures would be appreciated.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-86256409804555698292008-06-27T21:50:00.000-07:002008-06-27T21:54:56.576-07:00NOW what do you think about global warming?Scientists from the National Snow and Ice Data Center are quoted on CNN as saying, in reference to global warming, "Not to say I told you so...but I told you so."<br /><br />The <a href="http://nsidc.org/arcticseaicenews/">North Pole is melting</a>, people.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-25114583186077643042008-06-20T08:43:00.000-07:002008-06-20T08:53:29.674-07:00Here, kitty kittySo I am a huge sucker for animals. Especially if they're small. Especially if they're hurt. ESPECIALLY if they're small AND hurt.<br /><br />This has gotten me into trouble before. Like the time a couple of years ago when I was driving back to Kansas City from Manhattan and saw what I thought was a litter of kittens on the side of the road. I stopped to investigate, thinking that I would load the tiny, helpless, mewling creatures into my car and drop them off at the no-kill shelter, thus saving their lives and providing several area families with the Perfect Pet.<br /><br />It turns out that when one is driving 70 mph at night, it is fairly easy to mistake a group of baby possums for a litter of kittens. And possums do not take kindly to the idea of being bundled into the car and taken to the shelter.<br /><br />I was out running this morning and saw a bedraggled black-and-white cat limping along the sidewalk. You know where this is going, don't you?<br /><br />I approached him, crooning, "Here, kitty kitty..." trying with all my might to look like a friendly cat-lover, one who had pockets full of tuna and catnip. I just wanted to HELP him.<br /><br />I'm not really used to being around cats, but I'm guessing that flattened ears and hissing means that they probably don't want to be approached.<br /><br />Because I did not feel like explaining to either Andrew or my mother why I came home from this particular run looking like a scratching post, and also because I'm fairly sure that a series of rabies shots can't be added to the gift registry, I abandoned this particular mission.<br /><br />But I still hope the little guy finds his way home safely, and that there's tuna waiting for him, and that someone will fix his hurt paw.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-58191242616814817932008-06-18T09:18:00.000-07:002008-06-18T09:44:28.774-07:00One of usDear Chicago,<br />Thank you.<br /><br />You see, it's been a bit of a rough year. I've lost a few good friendships, and the process of those losses has caused me to question myself. Am I REALLY that funny/smart/interesting/good at using proper punctuation?<br /><br />What if I'm selfish and boring and have been using semi-colons incorrectly this whole time?<br /><br />You, all of you, made me feel entirely wrapped up in and surrounded by and connected with love. You're all such amazing, wonderful, (insert complementary adjective here) people - and spending the weekend with you made me realize that maybe it wasn't my fault that I lost those particular friendships - maybe it was just part of the process that happens when two people are growing, but their relationship is not. And not to go all Hallmark on you, but this past weekend really gave me a lot of hope for new and healthy relationships in the future.<br /><br />So thank you, Chicago. You were more healing than you know. And also, you have really great hotdogs.<br /><br />Love,<br />Erin<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Author's note: The term "Chicago" includes but is not limited to Minnesota, San Diego, Massachusetts, Haifa, and Los Angeles.</span><br /><br />"Someday, the light will shine like a sun through my skin & they will say, What have you done with your life? & though there are many moments I think I will remember, in the end, I will be proud to say, I was one of us." - <a href="http://www.storypeople.com/storypeople/Home.do?inMenu=true">Brian Andreas</a>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-42499106917259429312008-06-06T16:13:00.000-07:002008-06-06T16:23:23.294-07:00Things I Am Terrified Of, Part ISo I live relatively close to a pond. Said pond is in the "yard" of a big corporate office building, and is thus on the corner of a really busy intersection.<br /><br />Across the street from the pond is a hill full of juicy young clover blossoms and succulent, delicious grass.<br /><br />Neither of these facts are of any importance until you add in the geese.<br /><br />The pond is filled with several Canadian geese and their too-cute-to-be-believed little goslings.<br /><br />Several times a day, the geese take it upon themselves to leave their watery home and meander across the street (and by "street" I mean "six-lane road close to the interstate") for a delicious snack.<br /><br />I am terrified that I am going to be driving down Metcalf, changing the radio station or sending a text (dear Officer Dad, of course this is just for illustration - I never text while driving, no, no!) or taking a bite of granola bar or doing something else that may require that I take my eyes off the road for a second - and in that second, I will plow through the line of geese, thus incurring the wrath of all Canadian geese everywhere (those suckers are mean!) and making it look as though my Honda just lost the world's largest pillow fight.<br /><br />These are the things I think about, dear readers. These are the things I think about.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765418253563630272.post-74478157579366173932008-05-29T15:08:00.000-07:002008-05-29T15:11:26.837-07:00What do you say to this exactly?Comments from work last night that I was not sure how to reply to:<br /><br />1. "You're really hot, for a 27-year-old!" Um. Thanks, I think.<br /><br />2. "You have really big lips!" Yes. Yes I do. I grew them myself.<br /><br />3. "If you're not a good boy, we're going to send you to the kitchen with the waitress, and she's going to make you wash dishes!" Please do not use me to scare your children. The fact that I'm wearing a tie is frightening enough.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01159698604029951640noreply@blogger.com7