Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Mac on PBS...
okay, so it's Mac's alter-ego, the apparently nice, super-patriotic Gary Sinise. His band is doing Proud to be an American on the Memorial Day concert thingy---how cute is that!?!?!?!?! SEE??? Everybody should watch CSI:NY!!!!Wonder where Flack is this holiday weekend...does he want to come to a cookout???
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Hehehe...
I just got an e-mail from Bethel University, and because I was bored I decided to fill out their little "We'll send you a guidebook that essentially tells you not to blow off your senior year if you give us all of your personal information" thingy, and it asked me where I went to high school. So I put it down, and then it asked me what country I went to high school in. And they had like every country in the world listed. Seriously- they had everything from the U.K. to the Virgin Islands (British). I wonder how many students they really recruite from Uruguay every year???
Too Much Tuscan Sun
For anybody who knows me, it's a given that I love travelogues. I have just about every book Bill Bryson ever wrote, and an entire shelf dedicated to them in my room. I love reading about people who have gone to interesting places and done interesting things- for two main reasons. One, I want to get an idea of the sort of things that I would like to do if I ever get to those countries, and two, so that I won't be completely ignorant about the rest of the world if I don't. Either way, I love them. And I love Italy, so when I saw this particular book in Borders a couple of weeks ago, I couldn't pass it up. (Which may be why I'm broke...)
It's not actually a travelogue- it's the story of Britain-born Dario Castagno who returned to with his parents to their native Chianti when he was ten. After becoming something of a rebel and dropping out of school, he found himself in the dead-end job of a laboror at one of the local wineries. When he tired of this life, he decided to rely on his impeccable English and open a private touring company, where he would lead small groups of people on guided tours of the Chianti region, showing them a slightly more authentic Italy than the one presented in guidebooks.
Anyway, the whole thing is kind of the anti- Under the Tuscan Sun (hence the name.) By the way, no disrespect is meant to Frances Mayes, I read that book and loved it. In the introduction, Dario states that he figured it was time for a real Tuscan too tell their story, to counteract all the books out about Americans who come to Tuscany and refurbish an old farmhouse. The book alternates chapters- one is the story of a certain group or couple he led on a tour, and the next is simply about the region, or about his business.
Presumably because the book was marketed mainly in the United States, all of the customers that are profiled in the chapters are American (although he does include a nod to his Dutch customers as well as his first couple, a British Lord and Lady). The stories are primarily about the odd, awkward, ignorant (one woman wanted to know why the Circa family had so many great artists!), and sometimes downright rude requests and situations that these people put poor Dario through during their tours, but one or two are simply him recalling a good time had with a customer who quickly became a friend.
They are told in a bitingly funny narrative, which rings totally true without ever descending into petty meanness. At first glance, the grammar and sentence structure is not the best, but when you know that the first draft was written in Italian and later translated by an American, you quickly realize that this was done to leave some of the homespun charm in the words. His chapters about Siena, the Chianti region, and the Palio are charming and insightful, but it's really the stories about the people that make this book so memorable.
You can read more about the book and it's author at www.toomuchtuscansun.com. I highly suggest you read this book immediately- you will never think about Italy in the same way again. Or look at a bottle of Chianti Classico dismissively, either!
By the way- oenophile means "wine-lover"...I had to look that one up.. ;)
It's not actually a travelogue- it's the story of Britain-born Dario Castagno who returned to with his parents to their native Chianti when he was ten. After becoming something of a rebel and dropping out of school, he found himself in the dead-end job of a laboror at one of the local wineries. When he tired of this life, he decided to rely on his impeccable English and open a private touring company, where he would lead small groups of people on guided tours of the Chianti region, showing them a slightly more authentic Italy than the one presented in guidebooks.
Anyway, the whole thing is kind of the anti- Under the Tuscan Sun (hence the name.) By the way, no disrespect is meant to Frances Mayes, I read that book and loved it. In the introduction, Dario states that he figured it was time for a real Tuscan too tell their story, to counteract all the books out about Americans who come to Tuscany and refurbish an old farmhouse. The book alternates chapters- one is the story of a certain group or couple he led on a tour, and the next is simply about the region, or about his business.
Presumably because the book was marketed mainly in the United States, all of the customers that are profiled in the chapters are American (although he does include a nod to his Dutch customers as well as his first couple, a British Lord and Lady). The stories are primarily about the odd, awkward, ignorant (one woman wanted to know why the Circa family had so many great artists!), and sometimes downright rude requests and situations that these people put poor Dario through during their tours, but one or two are simply him recalling a good time had with a customer who quickly became a friend.
They are told in a bitingly funny narrative, which rings totally true without ever descending into petty meanness. At first glance, the grammar and sentence structure is not the best, but when you know that the first draft was written in Italian and later translated by an American, you quickly realize that this was done to leave some of the homespun charm in the words. His chapters about Siena, the Chianti region, and the Palio are charming and insightful, but it's really the stories about the people that make this book so memorable.
You can read more about the book and it's author at www.toomuchtuscansun.com. I highly suggest you read this book immediately- you will never think about Italy in the same way again. Or look at a bottle of Chianti Classico dismissively, either!
By the way- oenophile means "wine-lover"...I had to look that one up.. ;)
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Perplexing...
How do you twist your ankle while you're asleep? How does that happen? I woke up yesterday and it was really tender and kind of hurt. Now it really hurts- although horseback riding and posting for fifteen minutes on it probably wasn't the smartest thing, but it definately hurt before that. I'm still confused about this.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Damn right my aunt was this close!!!
Ah yes, Barry in Vegas---does it get any better??? See, stage ticktes really are the way to go... Lovin' the jacket, by the way. What the hell is that??? :)
Josh should start having stage tickets available...hmmm...no, scuffle with security would be embarrasing... ;)
Edit: As is my deplorable spelling- I meant embarrassing. :)
Friday, May 20, 2005
Box springs should have handles...
Okay, so I've been on this cleaning binge lately.
It started about two weeks ago when I decided to clean out my closet and drawers. I was feeling "Springy" and needed a place to put some new clothes...and the closet was seriously out of control. You couldn't see the floor. And the full-length mirror? Not so much when there's crap piled two feet up the mirror. And that little disaster area had spilled over to dresser drawers, which had spilled over (literally) onto my floors. I could hardly get into bed. It took me three hours and several CD rotations, but I finally finished it and ended up with organized drawers and baskets, a totally walk-in-able closet, and an actual place to hang my coat that didn't involve throwing it on the floor. And my personal favorite, the ability to get to my shoes without seriously damaging my rotator cuff. Oh, and enough discarded clothes to cover about ninety percent of the homeless in my city, but whatever.
So I lived with this for about a week, and then got to thinking. My closet was so clean, I really should clean my room. Like really clean- under things too. I thought about that for a few minutes. Hmmm. Sounded like hard work. Didn't like that idea. So I decided to be slightly less ambitious and just flip the mattress, because I had only done that like once in the three years I've had the thing. (It's supposed to be done every month. Uh-huh. Who really has time to flip their mattress every month?) So I hauled that sucker up, really hurting my back, and shoved it to the other side of the room. Well, then the box spring was just taunting me.
So I convinced myself that I was already half-way there, and it would be really easy to just move the box spring and vacuum under the bed, like I had thought originally. Ah-hah. Here was the problem. It is nearly impossible to move those darn things. They don't have cute little handles on the side like my mattress does. No. They just lie there not moving at all no matter how much you pull. And it's not like it was that heavy- I figured the mattress weighed twice as much as that thing. But it hated me. Really truely hated me. One time I pulled so hard I went flying back and hit the wall when my hand slipped. It hurt. A lot. All this time, Bon Jovi is wailing away in the background about it being my life. Which paused me to stop for a moment and consider, "Is this really my life? Moving box springs to vacuum? Is that it? Is this really living while I'm alive?" Whatever.
Anyhoo, after twenty minutes of cursing and yanking at that thing, I got it off the frame and kind of threw it to the other side of the room. And was faced with the entire contents of what was underneath there, actually illuminated for the first time in probably a year. *scary music*
It was terrifying. I know I'm not particularly tidy, but I really didn't think I could let something get that bad. I mean, there were boxes under there that housed stuff I bought like eighteen months ago. Shoes from last summer. A stiletto heel I thought I'd lost. And, perhaps scariest of all, a locker shelf from high school. Here's the scary thing- I left after freshman year. Which means that thing's been sitting there for upwards of two years. *shudder* Oh, and enough dust to account for ninety percent of my family's allergy problems. (FYI, I found the other ten percent under my dresser...)
And then I moved my little DVD shelf thingy, and realized how many families in the entertainment industry I am solely supporting just from my DVD expenditure alone. Got to cut back on that.
Anyway, I just felt I had to publicly defame the box spring for being so MEAN to me!!!! :p
It started about two weeks ago when I decided to clean out my closet and drawers. I was feeling "Springy" and needed a place to put some new clothes...and the closet was seriously out of control. You couldn't see the floor. And the full-length mirror? Not so much when there's crap piled two feet up the mirror. And that little disaster area had spilled over to dresser drawers, which had spilled over (literally) onto my floors. I could hardly get into bed. It took me three hours and several CD rotations, but I finally finished it and ended up with organized drawers and baskets, a totally walk-in-able closet, and an actual place to hang my coat that didn't involve throwing it on the floor. And my personal favorite, the ability to get to my shoes without seriously damaging my rotator cuff. Oh, and enough discarded clothes to cover about ninety percent of the homeless in my city, but whatever.
So I lived with this for about a week, and then got to thinking. My closet was so clean, I really should clean my room. Like really clean- under things too. I thought about that for a few minutes. Hmmm. Sounded like hard work. Didn't like that idea. So I decided to be slightly less ambitious and just flip the mattress, because I had only done that like once in the three years I've had the thing. (It's supposed to be done every month. Uh-huh. Who really has time to flip their mattress every month?) So I hauled that sucker up, really hurting my back, and shoved it to the other side of the room. Well, then the box spring was just taunting me.
So I convinced myself that I was already half-way there, and it would be really easy to just move the box spring and vacuum under the bed, like I had thought originally. Ah-hah. Here was the problem. It is nearly impossible to move those darn things. They don't have cute little handles on the side like my mattress does. No. They just lie there not moving at all no matter how much you pull. And it's not like it was that heavy- I figured the mattress weighed twice as much as that thing. But it hated me. Really truely hated me. One time I pulled so hard I went flying back and hit the wall when my hand slipped. It hurt. A lot. All this time, Bon Jovi is wailing away in the background about it being my life. Which paused me to stop for a moment and consider, "Is this really my life? Moving box springs to vacuum? Is that it? Is this really living while I'm alive?" Whatever.
Anyhoo, after twenty minutes of cursing and yanking at that thing, I got it off the frame and kind of threw it to the other side of the room. And was faced with the entire contents of what was underneath there, actually illuminated for the first time in probably a year. *scary music*
It was terrifying. I know I'm not particularly tidy, but I really didn't think I could let something get that bad. I mean, there were boxes under there that housed stuff I bought like eighteen months ago. Shoes from last summer. A stiletto heel I thought I'd lost. And, perhaps scariest of all, a locker shelf from high school. Here's the scary thing- I left after freshman year. Which means that thing's been sitting there for upwards of two years. *shudder* Oh, and enough dust to account for ninety percent of my family's allergy problems. (FYI, I found the other ten percent under my dresser...)
And then I moved my little DVD shelf thingy, and realized how many families in the entertainment industry I am solely supporting just from my DVD expenditure alone. Got to cut back on that.
Anyway, I just felt I had to publicly defame the box spring for being so MEAN to me!!!! :p
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Um....
Horatio??? What about Ryan??? *shivers* Jealous, collie??? *evil grin*
Ooooh...your CSI: Miami Soul Mate is...Horatio
Caine! My, my, my you have good taste! ;) You
must like your men passionate and captivating!
And, according to these results, drop dead
sexy! :P
Who" is your CSI: Miami 'Soul Mate'? (For Girls)
brought to you by
Ooooh...your CSI: Miami Soul Mate is...Horatio
Caine! My, my, my you have good taste! ;) You
must like your men passionate and captivating!
And, according to these results, drop dead
sexy! :P
Who" is your CSI: Miami 'Soul Mate'? (For Girls)
brought to you by
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
You may now kiss my feet...
I finished the Ryan and the baby episode of CSI: Miami (that's actually back in April sometime because I started it awhile ago), and did last week's episode of CSI:NY and Monday's episode of CSI: Miami on TV Watch (conveniently linked on the sidebar...) Am I good or what??? And there's three new episodes of my shows on tonight, so there will be even more up tomorrow!!! I'm wonderful, right???
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Stolen from Imladris...
1. Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, and find line 4. Write down what it says.
...synthetic cells capture solar energy and store it in nutrient molecules that later... (not terribly interesting)
2.Stretch your left arm out as far as you can what will you touch?
My little brother's GeoSafari game thing.
3: What is the last thing you watched on TV?
MTV Cribs
4: WITHOUT LOOKING, guess what the time is:
3:30
Now look at the clock, what is the actual time?
3:36---pretty good!
6: With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?
My brother watching Nickelodean...or something kid-ish.
7: When did you last step outside?
And hour ago.
8: Where did your last car ride go to?
Home from picking up my brother.
9: What are you wearing?
Jeans, pink shirt, painful sandals.
10: Did you dream last night?
Yeah. I knew what it was, too, but I forgot. I hate it when that happens. That usually happens, but then I'll be like brushing my teeth or something and I'll see something that will remind me about it. That happened last summer with an Alan dream. I took such crap for that. ;)
11: When did you last laugh?
Talking to my friend on the phone ten minutes ago.
12: What is on the walls of the room you are in?
Various degrees earned by the smarter members of my family. Why can't I be smart? Oh, maybe because I'm supposed to be studying biology now instead of doing this...
13: Seen anything weird lately?
My professor giving one of the guys in class a razor because he's been bugging him all semester to shave, and the guy would reply that he didn't want to pay for a razor. So the prof brought him one for our last class. Kind of funny.
14: What do you think of this quiz?
Fun.
15: What is the last film you saw?
Complete movie? Probably the Interpreter. I was watching parts of 'An Awfully Big Adventure' earlier this weekend, though. And I saw ten minutes of 'Life is Beautiful' while I was eating today. The dubbed version, though, so it wasn't as good.
16: If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy first?
A house for somebody.
17: Tell me something about you that I don't know:
I cried a little right after I was confirmed because I was so happy and moved. And I hardly ever cry.
18: If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do?
I'd get rid of abortion and the death penalty. And world peace! (said with a Miss Congeniality-esque smile)
19: Would you like to dance?
Not now, because my feet are killing me. Try wearing high heels all blessed weekend. I even broke dwon and wore flat shoes to school yesterday. And I never do that.
20: George Bush:
I think he's done a great job. And why does everybody say he's so stupid? How were your grades at Yale? Hmmm?
21: Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?
Bethany Marie or Carolyn Susan
22: Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?
John Joseph. Of course if I marry Johnny Depp, he already has a little boy named John, so we'll have to adjust that...
23: Would you ever consider living abroad?
Right now, totally. But I don't know how I'd feel after I bought the plane ticket and realized I'd be living across the ocean from my family. I've always wanted to spend a year in London, though.
Oooh, this was fun!! :)
...synthetic cells capture solar energy and store it in nutrient molecules that later... (not terribly interesting)
2.Stretch your left arm out as far as you can what will you touch?
My little brother's GeoSafari game thing.
3: What is the last thing you watched on TV?
MTV Cribs
4: WITHOUT LOOKING, guess what the time is:
3:30
Now look at the clock, what is the actual time?
3:36---pretty good!
6: With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?
My brother watching Nickelodean...or something kid-ish.
7: When did you last step outside?
And hour ago.
8: Where did your last car ride go to?
Home from picking up my brother.
9: What are you wearing?
Jeans, pink shirt, painful sandals.
10: Did you dream last night?
Yeah. I knew what it was, too, but I forgot. I hate it when that happens. That usually happens, but then I'll be like brushing my teeth or something and I'll see something that will remind me about it. That happened last summer with an Alan dream. I took such crap for that. ;)
11: When did you last laugh?
Talking to my friend on the phone ten minutes ago.
12: What is on the walls of the room you are in?
Various degrees earned by the smarter members of my family. Why can't I be smart? Oh, maybe because I'm supposed to be studying biology now instead of doing this...
13: Seen anything weird lately?
My professor giving one of the guys in class a razor because he's been bugging him all semester to shave, and the guy would reply that he didn't want to pay for a razor. So the prof brought him one for our last class. Kind of funny.
14: What do you think of this quiz?
Fun.
15: What is the last film you saw?
Complete movie? Probably the Interpreter. I was watching parts of 'An Awfully Big Adventure' earlier this weekend, though. And I saw ten minutes of 'Life is Beautiful' while I was eating today. The dubbed version, though, so it wasn't as good.
16: If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy first?
A house for somebody.
17: Tell me something about you that I don't know:
I cried a little right after I was confirmed because I was so happy and moved. And I hardly ever cry.
18: If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do?
I'd get rid of abortion and the death penalty. And world peace! (said with a Miss Congeniality-esque smile)
19: Would you like to dance?
Not now, because my feet are killing me. Try wearing high heels all blessed weekend. I even broke dwon and wore flat shoes to school yesterday. And I never do that.
20: George Bush:
I think he's done a great job. And why does everybody say he's so stupid? How were your grades at Yale? Hmmm?
21: Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?
Bethany Marie or Carolyn Susan
22: Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?
John Joseph. Of course if I marry Johnny Depp, he already has a little boy named John, so we'll have to adjust that...
23: Would you ever consider living abroad?
Right now, totally. But I don't know how I'd feel after I bought the plane ticket and realized I'd be living across the ocean from my family. I've always wanted to spend a year in London, though.
Oooh, this was fun!! :)
Monday, May 09, 2005
Too Much Stuff to Do!!!!
Argh!!! I don't do well with responsiblity, and I do even worse with it when it's boring responsibility. I'm posting because I desperately am trying to avoid writing my history paper that's due on Wednesday. I've got the introduction done, which I'm making really long and verbose so that my examples can be pretty short and sweet- mainly because I don't have that much information about them. Grrr. I had my first exam this morning, not that it was incredibly stressful, because we could use our books and notes, but it was still and exam and those freak me out psychologically. I'm weird. I have to finish the history paper (thank God it's only four-five pages double spaced), type up the entire page of biology terms I need, write down the definitions of said terms, take the practice quiz over and over again (and it's a long one too- like sixty-five questions), and study my notes. Then I can write thank you notes to everybody who was so generous with me this weekend, and ride my horse, because the vet told us she's losing muscle from being underused. Has the vet ever had to worry about how her hair looks and thus finds it difficult to get messy with the horse frequently? I highly doubt it- she's a vet, her hand is halfway up a horse's you-know-what half the the time. And I have to go to the library and return all of my communism books that are this close to being overdue. UGH.
I guess it's not so bad. I'll have the history paper finished in about an hour, and I've got till Wednesday to do the biology...and I'm kind of beyond caring at this point. And I guess I have to wash my hair tonight anyways, so I'll ride when I get home this evening. *sighs* Whew, okay, got that taken care of. See, sometimes you just have to vent a little bit, and everything seems better!!
P.S. I'll update with stuff about the weekend later on for anybody who cares, k?
I guess it's not so bad. I'll have the history paper finished in about an hour, and I've got till Wednesday to do the biology...and I'm kind of beyond caring at this point. And I guess I have to wash my hair tonight anyways, so I'll ride when I get home this evening. *sighs* Whew, okay, got that taken care of. See, sometimes you just have to vent a little bit, and everything seems better!!
P.S. I'll update with stuff about the weekend later on for anybody who cares, k?
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Just for you, Imladris!!!
I updated with CSI:NY stuff from last week. And it's definately up there- I just saw it. Not my best work, I'll give you, but it's something, right???? And I think there will be a CSI:Miami one from the baby episode later because I think we're having poly sci class up here today, so I won't actually have to do any work. Happiness!!! So check it out--- this time the link on the sidebar actually does work!!!
Monday, May 02, 2005
Is Russia...
...part of the EU???? I need to know...it would really make my paper better if they were, but I don't want to say that if it isn't true...I think I'd get marked down for that...
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Links finally work!!
I just spent thirty-five minutes trying to figure out how to get my links to work, and they finally do! Or at least for me. Try them and let me know, okay??? I just put up my other blog, and a couple of my better entries. Happiness- I accomplished something technological!!! On with the Boleshevik theory...
Lenin Sucks.
As a totally unbiased non- Russian, I feel I can confidently say that he sucks. Especially when certain people are forced to spend their Sunday afternoons writing about him. Grrr.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Thank you God!
We got let out of political science early because we had "case studies" where each group had to pretend to belong to a religion and then defend that religion's views about the political system. My group, composed mainly of Lutherans, I think, got stuck with the most obscure one- Anabaptists. Now, to be perfectly honest, the only thing I know about Anabaptists is that my father and his friend got drunk once during college and started singing about them. That's the extent of my grasp on their theology.
It was kind of fun, though, because one girl got into a fight with this other guy about which edition of the Bible is better (the King James of the NIV), and started yelling about "thees" and "thous" and this other guy tried to get onto a Seventh Day Adventist dating service site- but he was denied admission because the school blocks any website that has to do with sex. The professor (who knew about as much about Anabaptism as I did) just sat there on the table next to us and laughed. It was so odd and kind of funny at the same time...
Finally we just gave up, because our girl was winning the "thee" argument and the guy figured if he couldn't get a date off of this project, it wasn't worth it. So we just left. The other three religions had bolted as soon as he gave us the assignment to do "research" (i.e., get coffee and go home), and even the prof was kind of looking bored (except for hte getting denied by the dating service. That he found hilarious.).
To sum things up, we know nothing more about Anabaptists than we did at ten o'clock this morning, except that those Seventh Day Adventist sites must be pretty freaky if the school won't let you on. *rolls eyes* Why couldn't we have gotten Catholic? I could have done that!
Next class should be intersting as well- Catholic theology. I wonder how the Catholic professor is going to tackle that in this place???
And this was after my profoundly interesting and slightly entertaining history class this morning. We were discussing post-WWI Middle East, which I didn't know that much about. I mean, I know all that's going on over there, but I didn't know how it all came to be. Suffice to say, I learned that those Israelis and the Palistinians have their work cut out for them. Especially the part about East and West Jerusalem (because that Berlin thing worked out so well...). And then the Palestinians want East Jerusalem for their capital- even though it's outside the West Bank???? Even the professor was cracking up. And now Israel is building the wall (again, that Berlin thing should be a big flashing warning light...), which complicates that whole capital-outside- the-nations-territory thing. Very interesting.
In general- a good and entertaining day. I'm kind of going to miss political science, because that's been really interesting. Not holding out that much hope for biology, though- that's usually pretty dull...oh crap, I have an assignment due....
It was kind of fun, though, because one girl got into a fight with this other guy about which edition of the Bible is better (the King James of the NIV), and started yelling about "thees" and "thous" and this other guy tried to get onto a Seventh Day Adventist dating service site- but he was denied admission because the school blocks any website that has to do with sex. The professor (who knew about as much about Anabaptism as I did) just sat there on the table next to us and laughed. It was so odd and kind of funny at the same time...
Finally we just gave up, because our girl was winning the "thee" argument and the guy figured if he couldn't get a date off of this project, it wasn't worth it. So we just left. The other three religions had bolted as soon as he gave us the assignment to do "research" (i.e., get coffee and go home), and even the prof was kind of looking bored (except for hte getting denied by the dating service. That he found hilarious.).
To sum things up, we know nothing more about Anabaptists than we did at ten o'clock this morning, except that those Seventh Day Adventist sites must be pretty freaky if the school won't let you on. *rolls eyes* Why couldn't we have gotten Catholic? I could have done that!
Next class should be intersting as well- Catholic theology. I wonder how the Catholic professor is going to tackle that in this place???
And this was after my profoundly interesting and slightly entertaining history class this morning. We were discussing post-WWI Middle East, which I didn't know that much about. I mean, I know all that's going on over there, but I didn't know how it all came to be. Suffice to say, I learned that those Israelis and the Palistinians have their work cut out for them. Especially the part about East and West Jerusalem (because that Berlin thing worked out so well...). And then the Palestinians want East Jerusalem for their capital- even though it's outside the West Bank???? Even the professor was cracking up. And now Israel is building the wall (again, that Berlin thing should be a big flashing warning light...), which complicates that whole capital-outside- the-nations-territory thing. Very interesting.
In general- a good and entertaining day. I'm kind of going to miss political science, because that's been really interesting. Not holding out that much hope for biology, though- that's usually pretty dull...oh crap, I have an assignment due....
Monday, April 25, 2005
My Heroic Quest for Dinner
See, despite the fact that I really like to eat, I generally have a problem finding something I think is appealing in our kitchen. This could be because my family has an odd obsession with freezing things- including our bread. Whenever I ask them about this, I am always met with a "It stays fresh longer." Which I don't entirely agree with. Yes, I supposed, the actual loaf of bread does stay fresh longer if it is in the freezer, but is that really the point of keeping bread fresh? To break some kind of record? No, it's to keep the bread fresh as long as people are eating it. Correct? And nobody seems to grasp the fact that if you didn't have to microwave it, the loaf of bread might disappear faster, thus negating the need to keep it fresh for weeks.
And it's not just bread- every single piece of meat in this house is frozen. So, if you want a chicken sandwhich, let's say, you would have to take a scary frozen chicken breast out of the freezer (and actually discern that it is in fact chicken, and not some other meat), put it on defrost for ten minutes. Then you would have to turn it around and heat it on regular for another minute or so, and then the middle would still be frozen. Then you would have to get the bread out the fridge and microwave it, and then assemble the parts into a sandwhich that contained chicken that was so hot on the outside it burned your mouth, but still frozen in the middle, and bread that is wet and wilted because it had crystalized in the freezer. And it tastes freezerburned.
So, as I stumbled into the kitchen this evening, working on very few hours of sleep (remember, people, I'm not used to this), I did not feel like going through this whole ordeal. So I looked in the fridge. Nothing. Sour cream and shredded cheese. I could have combined these into something interesting, if only I had had taco meat. But that was frozen. So we moved on. I checked the other fridge. Well, checked was not really the word. Contorted myself would be more like it. My dad was doing something with the sink, so there was a chair shoved up against the counter. Between that and the waste basket (which I theoretically could have moved...), you had to stand on one leg and shove the other one between the door and the wall to keep it form closing while you peruse the contents. And there wasn't even anything there. Just ketchup. Again, perhaps this would have been tasty on a hamburger, but all those were FROZEN. Grrr.
Dejected, I contemplated making au gratin potatos from the box, but decided that twenty minutes was too long to wait. Finally, in a desperate attempt to find something that didn't involve a microwave, I descended into the basement where we keep our canned goods and such. I figured I could find soup or something. Even that wasn't easy. We had two kinds - cream of potato, and french onion.
Author's Note: At this time I would like to reflect on what led somebody to look at a potato and think, "Oh, I could put milk with this and come up with a really nauseating blend!" Moving on...
Now, I generally don't even like soup. Except brocolli cheese, which is really more thick. But I've also been desperate before. Once I even at these weird frozen egg rolls that my cousin stashed in our freezer for about a year. I figured if I could choke down Ko Thi Mi Chicken Rolls or whatever, I could take soup. I settled on cream of potato.
Once you actually got this stuff out of a can, it became even more disgusting than on the label. I'm not even sure I cooked it the right way, because there are chunks of potatos that look suspiciously like lumps of soup and therefore I was not sure if I should mash them up or what. Eventually I decided to crush anyting that didn't really looked like a potato. I think it worked, because I havne't thrown up yet.
I tried to choke it down for a few minutes, but eventually just gave up and picked the potatos out. And ate saltines. Those are tasty. I'm still kind of hungry, but I'll just get a muffin tomorrow morning. My final act in the kitchen was to search in vain for the grocery list that's usually taped the fridge so I could write in large red writing "BUY SOUP- TALK TO KATHLEEN FIRST!!!" Couldn't find it. Maybe it's in the freezer with the rest of our food... :)
And it's not just bread- every single piece of meat in this house is frozen. So, if you want a chicken sandwhich, let's say, you would have to take a scary frozen chicken breast out of the freezer (and actually discern that it is in fact chicken, and not some other meat), put it on defrost for ten minutes. Then you would have to turn it around and heat it on regular for another minute or so, and then the middle would still be frozen. Then you would have to get the bread out the fridge and microwave it, and then assemble the parts into a sandwhich that contained chicken that was so hot on the outside it burned your mouth, but still frozen in the middle, and bread that is wet and wilted because it had crystalized in the freezer. And it tastes freezerburned.
So, as I stumbled into the kitchen this evening, working on very few hours of sleep (remember, people, I'm not used to this), I did not feel like going through this whole ordeal. So I looked in the fridge. Nothing. Sour cream and shredded cheese. I could have combined these into something interesting, if only I had had taco meat. But that was frozen. So we moved on. I checked the other fridge. Well, checked was not really the word. Contorted myself would be more like it. My dad was doing something with the sink, so there was a chair shoved up against the counter. Between that and the waste basket (which I theoretically could have moved...), you had to stand on one leg and shove the other one between the door and the wall to keep it form closing while you peruse the contents. And there wasn't even anything there. Just ketchup. Again, perhaps this would have been tasty on a hamburger, but all those were FROZEN. Grrr.
Dejected, I contemplated making au gratin potatos from the box, but decided that twenty minutes was too long to wait. Finally, in a desperate attempt to find something that didn't involve a microwave, I descended into the basement where we keep our canned goods and such. I figured I could find soup or something. Even that wasn't easy. We had two kinds - cream of potato, and french onion.
Author's Note: At this time I would like to reflect on what led somebody to look at a potato and think, "Oh, I could put milk with this and come up with a really nauseating blend!" Moving on...
Now, I generally don't even like soup. Except brocolli cheese, which is really more thick. But I've also been desperate before. Once I even at these weird frozen egg rolls that my cousin stashed in our freezer for about a year. I figured if I could choke down Ko Thi Mi Chicken Rolls or whatever, I could take soup. I settled on cream of potato.
Once you actually got this stuff out of a can, it became even more disgusting than on the label. I'm not even sure I cooked it the right way, because there are chunks of potatos that look suspiciously like lumps of soup and therefore I was not sure if I should mash them up or what. Eventually I decided to crush anyting that didn't really looked like a potato. I think it worked, because I havne't thrown up yet.
I tried to choke it down for a few minutes, but eventually just gave up and picked the potatos out. And ate saltines. Those are tasty. I'm still kind of hungry, but I'll just get a muffin tomorrow morning. My final act in the kitchen was to search in vain for the grocery list that's usually taped the fridge so I could write in large red writing "BUY SOUP- TALK TO KATHLEEN FIRST!!!" Couldn't find it. Maybe it's in the freezer with the rest of our food... :)
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
My Weekend---or the fifth "Vacation" movie...
Ah, yes, the fabled family day trip. Especially interesting when it involves my family- we're kind of odd. But loveable. :) I feel kind of badly going from the Pope to my weekend, but somebody requested it. So, on with the story.
I believe that it was sometime in the middle of last week, and I was innocently doing homework (or more likely watching TV or surfing the web), when my mom announced that we would be going up to my father's land on the weekend. You see, with the falling property prices in the late seventies, my father had purchased several plots of what can only be described as forest that bordered (well, not really bordered, but was sort of connected to) a small lake about four hours north of us. We visit occasionally, and Daddy proudly walks around and shows us the fire pit and the "Sacred Pine" (please, don't ask. I can't relive that experience). When I was little it was really fun, because the little third of an acre lots seemed much bigger and you could practically get lost in the trees. Now I pretty much just stay in the car because I don't like ticks. Or other sorts of bugs. Or a lot of trees, for that matter.
But wait- this time we would have a special mission! We were going to retrieve my dad's fishing boat and bring it home where it would probably languish in the backyard (looking oh so lovely, I'm sure) until my brother (who, despite not being a teenager yet, has decided that he wants the house when my parents kick off) dies and the house is presumably sold. Now, one must understand that this boat has been sitting in the woods for twenty-five years- long before my father even met my mother.
I looked at her uncomprehendingly for a few moments. Saturday?, I asked. My mother replied "Do you have anything going on?" Did I have anything going on? I didn't think so- I mean, I don't really have a life. But it was Saturday- a day traditionally reserved for sleeping and the like (especially since my annoying bio professor decided I could start coming to the labs at seven thirty A.M. Grrr.). I wasn't sure I could get out of that. But at the same time I didn't really want to stay home all day when I was 99% sure that they wouldn't allow me to drive anywhere while they were "out of town". And I do like going on road trips- even if they are only a few hours away. After throwing in a couple of comments like "Mom, they hadn't released the Iranian hostages the last time that boat was moved", or "Do you know how many diseases are on that thing?", I agreed, reluctantly acknowledging that I would not be able to sleep in until next Saturday- a very distant day that I could hardly comprehend.
I didn't understand, nor did I really care, how my father was planning on getting this boat home. (Or even why. We have a perfectly good boat already.) While we do drive a minivan, and a rather large one at that, I did not feel particularly comfortable with the idea of putting the boat on top of it and then driving home. (At least not through any counties where I know people...) I felt even less comfortable with the idea that I might actually have to help. I think my father felt rather uncomfortable with this, too, as he has taken to calling my sister and I "Paris and Nicole"- I'm not exactly good at working. I did resolve not to dwell on it, though, because chances are once my dad decides to do something (especially if it involves a sea-faring craft) he's going to do it even if it puts the entire family in jeopardy and he ends up lost within the breakwater---but I'm getting ahead of myself. That's a whole different story.
At some ungodly hour of the moring on Saturday we pull out of the driveway. I'm not happy- my hair is wet, it's supposed to get up to seventy degrees, I'm tired, and I get carsick as soon as we get on the expressway. (Come to think of it- I don't know exactly why my parents like doing things with me...) An Egg McMuffin shuts me up for awhile, though, and I'm pretty much fine for about two and a half hours. By this time, I have listened to every Josh Groban CD I have, am ready to kill Maroon 5 for recording "This Love" which is playing over and over in my head, and have just gotten out of a lovely bathroom that sold condoms. Ugh. Isn't our state wonderful???
Slight But Necessary Editorial: Why the hell is there only one Taco Bell across this entire state? Hmmm?? A lot of us don't like McDonalds, and there is nowhere else to go! There should be a mandatory Taco Bell at every exit- and a couple on the turnpikes out east. They really need them. In fact, Friday night I had a dream that we ended up on the turnpike and I couldn't have anything except brand-less fried chicken for the entire trip. Scary. Back to the topic, why does no one realize the incredbible need that this state has for cheap and tasty tacos??? Grrr.
Finally we arrive at the lot. It starts to rain. Hard. And I can tell by the look on my father's face that the boat is bigger than he remembered. I can see this going one of two ways- a.) the boat falls onto one of us and either causes severe or fatal bodily harm or b.) the boat falls on the car and scratches it, giving us a multiple hundred dollar repair bill. Either way, this isn't looking good. So we all troop out of the car because my mom mumbled something about weight shifting which I didn't totally understand, but I didn't feel like messing with a woman holding a knife and a large piece of wood. My dad and brother go into the woods to retrieve the boat and drag it out to the roadside, and I am handed a pair of gloves despite my early insistances that I will not be assisting in this endeavor. Whatever. Nobody listens to me.
Now, this is just a simple fishing/row boat, that looks relatively harmless and easily manouverable when it's lying on the ground. Not so when it's standing on end. It's twice as tall as my dad and really wide- I don't want that thing near the car, much less on top of it. As stated before, however, nobody listens to me. So Daddy, in his infinite wisdom, formulates a plan. Right here you can tel lsomething is goign to go wrong. The plan is as follows:
1.) Lean large boat up against the car.
2.) Place tiny little washcloths beneath the boat so it does not scratch the car.
3.) Stand behind the bloat and lift it up onto the car while wife and daughter "guide" it on the sides.
4.) Hear daughter scream when she realizes that the little white globs of spider eggs that used to be on the underside of the boat are now in her hair---that she just washed.
5.) Buy daughter (who made sure that everybody knew she would not be helping beforehand) a car and/or laptop that plays DVDs and burns CDS just for being so great. And some shampoo.
I added the last one. It hasn't been fulfilled yet. See, nobody listens to me!! Okay, so the boat is actually on top of the minivan. We all have a little sigh of relief, until we realize that this boat must then be secured well enough to drive home with it. Uh-huh. Sounds like fun, doesn it??
Yeah, I think this is when my mom started calling Dad "Clark Griswold". *sighs*
What follows can only be described as funny. My dad has to get down on the ground (which is now thoroughly soaked, because it's pouring) like underneath the car, and tie these little ropes to the bumpers and license plate thingy.
Meanwhile, crowded under the umbrella, my sister is having a revelation.
Sister: Why are we bringing this home?
Mother: Because Daddy and John want to go fishing.
Sister: What? Where?
Author: I'd just like to say at this moment I was thinking "Fishing? This thing would sink in a bathtub"
Mother: The river, you know, just down the road from us.
Sister: *has a heart attack* What????? That river???? Mom, I know people. The entire track team is going to see them!! *has another heart attack- bigger this time*
Sister then proceeds to do a rather funny imitation of the entire track team running past the river and noticing their classmates dad and brother "fishing" in a not-quite-seaworthy boat. I'm still laughing.
This continues in the same vein until my father picks himself up off the ground (sopping wet now) and annouces that we're ready to go. My sister shuts up long enough to get in the car, and my mother glances nervously at the boat perches precariously on two pieces of wood. I think she muttered something about the Griswold family, but I can't be sure.
So, despite all evidence to the contrary, we arrived home safely (even finding a Taco Bell...after like three hours of searching...grrr.). And then had to the boat off the top of the car, which was almost as funny as getting it o, because it was nine o'clock at night and the flashlight kept dying.
I'm not even kidding. :)
I believe that it was sometime in the middle of last week, and I was innocently doing homework (or more likely watching TV or surfing the web), when my mom announced that we would be going up to my father's land on the weekend. You see, with the falling property prices in the late seventies, my father had purchased several plots of what can only be described as forest that bordered (well, not really bordered, but was sort of connected to) a small lake about four hours north of us. We visit occasionally, and Daddy proudly walks around and shows us the fire pit and the "Sacred Pine" (please, don't ask. I can't relive that experience). When I was little it was really fun, because the little third of an acre lots seemed much bigger and you could practically get lost in the trees. Now I pretty much just stay in the car because I don't like ticks. Or other sorts of bugs. Or a lot of trees, for that matter.
But wait- this time we would have a special mission! We were going to retrieve my dad's fishing boat and bring it home where it would probably languish in the backyard (looking oh so lovely, I'm sure) until my brother (who, despite not being a teenager yet, has decided that he wants the house when my parents kick off) dies and the house is presumably sold. Now, one must understand that this boat has been sitting in the woods for twenty-five years- long before my father even met my mother.
I looked at her uncomprehendingly for a few moments. Saturday?, I asked. My mother replied "Do you have anything going on?" Did I have anything going on? I didn't think so- I mean, I don't really have a life. But it was Saturday- a day traditionally reserved for sleeping and the like (especially since my annoying bio professor decided I could start coming to the labs at seven thirty A.M. Grrr.). I wasn't sure I could get out of that. But at the same time I didn't really want to stay home all day when I was 99% sure that they wouldn't allow me to drive anywhere while they were "out of town". And I do like going on road trips- even if they are only a few hours away. After throwing in a couple of comments like "Mom, they hadn't released the Iranian hostages the last time that boat was moved", or "Do you know how many diseases are on that thing?", I agreed, reluctantly acknowledging that I would not be able to sleep in until next Saturday- a very distant day that I could hardly comprehend.
I didn't understand, nor did I really care, how my father was planning on getting this boat home. (Or even why. We have a perfectly good boat already.) While we do drive a minivan, and a rather large one at that, I did not feel particularly comfortable with the idea of putting the boat on top of it and then driving home. (At least not through any counties where I know people...) I felt even less comfortable with the idea that I might actually have to help. I think my father felt rather uncomfortable with this, too, as he has taken to calling my sister and I "Paris and Nicole"- I'm not exactly good at working. I did resolve not to dwell on it, though, because chances are once my dad decides to do something (especially if it involves a sea-faring craft) he's going to do it even if it puts the entire family in jeopardy and he ends up lost within the breakwater---but I'm getting ahead of myself. That's a whole different story.
At some ungodly hour of the moring on Saturday we pull out of the driveway. I'm not happy- my hair is wet, it's supposed to get up to seventy degrees, I'm tired, and I get carsick as soon as we get on the expressway. (Come to think of it- I don't know exactly why my parents like doing things with me...) An Egg McMuffin shuts me up for awhile, though, and I'm pretty much fine for about two and a half hours. By this time, I have listened to every Josh Groban CD I have, am ready to kill Maroon 5 for recording "This Love" which is playing over and over in my head, and have just gotten out of a lovely bathroom that sold condoms. Ugh. Isn't our state wonderful???
Slight But Necessary Editorial: Why the hell is there only one Taco Bell across this entire state? Hmmm?? A lot of us don't like McDonalds, and there is nowhere else to go! There should be a mandatory Taco Bell at every exit- and a couple on the turnpikes out east. They really need them. In fact, Friday night I had a dream that we ended up on the turnpike and I couldn't have anything except brand-less fried chicken for the entire trip. Scary. Back to the topic, why does no one realize the incredbible need that this state has for cheap and tasty tacos??? Grrr.
Finally we arrive at the lot. It starts to rain. Hard. And I can tell by the look on my father's face that the boat is bigger than he remembered. I can see this going one of two ways- a.) the boat falls onto one of us and either causes severe or fatal bodily harm or b.) the boat falls on the car and scratches it, giving us a multiple hundred dollar repair bill. Either way, this isn't looking good. So we all troop out of the car because my mom mumbled something about weight shifting which I didn't totally understand, but I didn't feel like messing with a woman holding a knife and a large piece of wood. My dad and brother go into the woods to retrieve the boat and drag it out to the roadside, and I am handed a pair of gloves despite my early insistances that I will not be assisting in this endeavor. Whatever. Nobody listens to me.
Now, this is just a simple fishing/row boat, that looks relatively harmless and easily manouverable when it's lying on the ground. Not so when it's standing on end. It's twice as tall as my dad and really wide- I don't want that thing near the car, much less on top of it. As stated before, however, nobody listens to me. So Daddy, in his infinite wisdom, formulates a plan. Right here you can tel lsomething is goign to go wrong. The plan is as follows:
1.) Lean large boat up against the car.
2.) Place tiny little washcloths beneath the boat so it does not scratch the car.
3.) Stand behind the bloat and lift it up onto the car while wife and daughter "guide" it on the sides.
4.) Hear daughter scream when she realizes that the little white globs of spider eggs that used to be on the underside of the boat are now in her hair---that she just washed.
5.) Buy daughter (who made sure that everybody knew she would not be helping beforehand) a car and/or laptop that plays DVDs and burns CDS just for being so great. And some shampoo.
I added the last one. It hasn't been fulfilled yet. See, nobody listens to me!! Okay, so the boat is actually on top of the minivan. We all have a little sigh of relief, until we realize that this boat must then be secured well enough to drive home with it. Uh-huh. Sounds like fun, doesn it??
Yeah, I think this is when my mom started calling Dad "Clark Griswold". *sighs*
What follows can only be described as funny. My dad has to get down on the ground (which is now thoroughly soaked, because it's pouring) like underneath the car, and tie these little ropes to the bumpers and license plate thingy.
Meanwhile, crowded under the umbrella, my sister is having a revelation.
Sister: Why are we bringing this home?
Mother: Because Daddy and John want to go fishing.
Sister: What? Where?
Author: I'd just like to say at this moment I was thinking "Fishing? This thing would sink in a bathtub"
Mother: The river, you know, just down the road from us.
Sister: *has a heart attack* What????? That river???? Mom, I know people. The entire track team is going to see them!! *has another heart attack- bigger this time*
Sister then proceeds to do a rather funny imitation of the entire track team running past the river and noticing their classmates dad and brother "fishing" in a not-quite-seaworthy boat. I'm still laughing.
This continues in the same vein until my father picks himself up off the ground (sopping wet now) and annouces that we're ready to go. My sister shuts up long enough to get in the car, and my mother glances nervously at the boat perches precariously on two pieces of wood. I think she muttered something about the Griswold family, but I can't be sure.
So, despite all evidence to the contrary, we arrived home safely (even finding a Taco Bell...after like three hours of searching...grrr.). And then had to the boat off the top of the car, which was almost as funny as getting it o, because it was nine o'clock at night and the flashlight kept dying.
I'm not even kidding. :)
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Habemus Papem!!!
After about twenty-four hours (a very short period of time) we have a new Holy Father to guide the Church. Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger was elected Pope this morning (or afternoon in Rome) and became Pope Benedict XVI- the first Benedict since 1922 (not that long ago... ;)). I posted earlier during the very beginning of this whole thing, before we knew who it was, but I really wanted to write more about the experience of actually watching this whole thing- albeit on television from the midwest in the United States. Still amazing, though...
I think we found out because my aunt called to say that instead of her regular programming (some intellectually stimulating game show or soap opera, I'm sure...) there was just a picture of smoke coming out of a chimney and she figured we'd want to know about it. I was working on the computor and had the TV on in the background, muted, because there's only so many hours a day you can watch cable news without going crazy. I was glancing over occasionally, but I probably wouldn't have caught it at the beginning.
Personally, I thought it was white smoke. I mean, this looked really white--- not even close to gray. But then all the news networks (except EWTN, who I think has learned to keep their mouth shut about pretty much anything since that little flatline incident) were saying it was black, so that meant that the vote was inconclusive. Even though it was kind of gray by this time, I still didn't really believe it- mainly because it was an odd time for a vote and the entire crowd in St. Peter's Square was going crazy and screaming and everything. I switched over to NBC and their caption just said "Smoke coming from the Sistine Chapel", which I found kind of funny because it looked like it was on fire or something. Within a few minutes, it became pretty clear that this was actually white smoke, and we did actually have a new Pope, but nobody knew who it was. They rang the bells for six o'clock, and then about four minutes later they started ringing them to signal the successful election of the Pope.
My first response was to start crying. I don't know exactly why- while I wasn't happy about the fact that John Paul II had died, I knew that he would never be replaced in our hearts, so it wasn't that. Maybe it was the fact that I was watching such a beautiful scene, with a ton of people in St. Peter's Square all rejoicing and waiting, and actually watching the white smoke that is such an iconic symbol of my faith. Or maybe it was that this was the first thing of this nature that I had experienced, a moment I'll be telling my children about when they watch their first election. It was just so amazing and beautiful and way more moving than I thought it was going to be. Either way, I was sitting in the den crying over some white smoke and tolling bells.
About half an hour later, Cardinal Jorge Arturo Medina Estivez came out and did the annoucement. First, he had to say "Brothers and Sisters" in about twelve different languages- which freaked me out because I thought he was going to repeat everything in all those languages and by that time I really wanted to know who the Pope was!!! But he didn't, and just continued in Latin. I understood most of it- probably due to the fact that I knew what he was saying in English and not my rather tentative grasp of the Latin language. As soon as he said "Joseph", the entire crowd erupted. I was just like "Ratzinger?" I really didn't think they were going to elect him, they hardly ever elect the "frontrunner" (4 to1...hehehehe....). But I was happy- he's very conservative and staunch in his beliefs, and will continue to uphold the docterine that John Paul II worked so hard to protect. And then they said he chose Benedict XVI for his papal name, which kind of surprised me, because it seemed so old world.
It didn't hit me that we actually had another Pope until he came out and addressed the crowd (picture above). For the twenty or so minutes between Estivez's announcement and his address, all the news captions said "Joseph Ratzinger elected, chooses Benedict XVI for his papal name." But then as soon as he started talking, everything switched over to just saying "Pope Benedict XVI". He's really a Pope!!! It was kind of shocking at first, but I've kind of gotten used to it.
His address and blessing was beautiful- as was witnessing him walking out on to the balcony. He mentioned John Paul II, which I thought went quite a long way to endearing him to those who felt he may have been replacing their Pope. He seemed really humble and down-to-earth, and while not quite as charasmatic as John Paul II, warm and nice in his own way.
It was an amazing and beautiful thing to experience and watch, and selfishly I'm kind of glad that I'll have a Pope for my confirmation. And I'm kind of happy that a certain liberal priest I know is probably curled up in a fetal position rocking in the corner and sobbing right now. :) And that's he's German. We just need and Irish Pope next time and all of my nationalities will be represented!!!
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