Every week there are a number of new reasons I'm convinced I'm losing my mind. During stressful times of the semester, such as before Spring Break, I find myself fast approaching the edge of sanity.
Today I missed the bus by 1.5 minutes. I spent the next 30 minutes walking the sidewalks in a definite figure-8 pattern, at times talking out loud to myself.
As if that weren't enough...
My biceps have been killing me for 24 hours. I have spent a great deal of time scraping the corners of my mind to find a reason for this (wonderful, yet painful) anomoly. Ever since I gave up weight-lifting after my freshman year of college, I haven't felt this soreness. Did I do Tae-Bo? no. Did I spend too much time holding my phone to my ear? no, and that certainly wouldn't account for the equal pain in each arm as I tend to favor the left ear and therefore left arm for phone conversations.
Then it came to me when I saw my professor tonight...before class last night, I carried a really heavy box full of manila file folders from my car in the parking lot behind the library to his office (he being said professor). And that must be how weak I am. I was completely embarrassed and probably blushed at the mere thought of being that weak when I realized that it was. Oh me. To be strong again!
I got a message on my phone when I came home tonight that went something like this:
[Southern Indiana-hick accent] "Yeah, hello, Paul. I just got your message and am returning your call here about 6 o'clock. Talk to you later, Buddy.]
Not only was it a wrong number, it was to Paul folks - could it have been any more perfect?!
I rest my case for the night, for the week, and for the first half of the semester.
09 March 2006
08 March 2006
Maddie
Not only does she leave adorable messages on my phone: "Hi, Lana. Thanks for the call. I was hoping to talk to you. Okay, talk to you later, Bye." but she also simply is adorable.
She looks so grown up in this picture, granted it's been four months since I've seen her. Since then, she's started pre-school, been kissed on the lips by a boy, and left about 8 messages on my phone. We decided yesterday that when I come out in August, we'll both get our ears pierced. When asked if she could handle the poke in one ear enough to get the other one done directly thereafter, she answered, "Well, I think I could do it. I think I can handle another poke."
By the way, she's dressed up for a princess birthday party in this picture. Though she wanted to throw her grandpa a similar princess party, she decided that maybe a Strawberry Shortcake party would be more appropriate for him. There must be birthday hats. Those she insisted upon.
05 March 2006
A ridiculous holiday, but a necessary celebration in mid-winter
Today is March 5th, which is my half-birthday. Shout out to ME!
24, here I come!
It is also the half-birthday of Sarah Shivler and David Hartman. So Happy Half-Birthdays to you two, as well! Hope it was a good day.
24, here I come!
It is also the half-birthday of Sarah Shivler and David Hartman. So Happy Half-Birthdays to you two, as well! Hope it was a good day.
04 March 2006
An Ambush Friending
This is what Bird did to me. Out of all of her friends, this year she chose me as the object for her ambush friending.
Instead of the blindfold, handcuffs and loud music, which usually accompany such a shindig, she actually asked me if I was free Friday night for 4 hours, and if I wouldn't be willing to go somewhere with her.
She ended up telling me what the plan was, and we changed it a bit, but it was so much fun. First, Brokeback Mountain...for which I have no words. Second, Irish Lion for a Guinness, which was lovely, and much fanatical conversation. And I discovered how much I love Owen for loving Ireland so much. We definitely discussed it for at least 30 minutes, which is mild, considering he was just there over the weekend (jerk!).
I hope that I can plan ambush friendings for people in years to come. It was so lovely and I was so relaxed...after two months of unending tension, it was a welcome relief.
Thanks, Bird!
Instead of the blindfold, handcuffs and loud music, which usually accompany such a shindig, she actually asked me if I was free Friday night for 4 hours, and if I wouldn't be willing to go somewhere with her.
She ended up telling me what the plan was, and we changed it a bit, but it was so much fun. First, Brokeback Mountain...for which I have no words. Second, Irish Lion for a Guinness, which was lovely, and much fanatical conversation. And I discovered how much I love Owen for loving Ireland so much. We definitely discussed it for at least 30 minutes, which is mild, considering he was just there over the weekend (jerk!).
I hope that I can plan ambush friendings for people in years to come. It was so lovely and I was so relaxed...after two months of unending tension, it was a welcome relief.
Thanks, Bird!
02 March 2006
Intruder
I'm sitting at my desk right now, working on my project/presentation/paper for tomorrow. Two minutes ago, I suddenly heard scratching at the glass door to my left, which leads out to the driveway.
Looking towards the door, I found a man in paint-splattered clothes with a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips, shoving a key into the lock, scraping it around, and then trying to rip my door down when it would not open. Completely caught off guard, I sat staring at him try to break into my house. I was confused because he had a key, I was sitting 10 feet away, and he had not knocked.
The week before I moved in, my landlord had workmen coming and going around here trying to fix the leak in the master bathroom. They had the floor, walls, etc. ripped up in the bathroom, and despite the fact it was a royal mess, Bird was sleeping in the attached room. One night, in the middle of the night, a workman walks into the bedroom in which she's sleeping and starts working. Should I reiterate it's the middle of the night. Bird was the only one here.
Knowing that story, I was assuming this would-be robber was someone sent by the landlord, but, I figured he would have called to warn us.
He was pissed after about four go-rounds with the key and tramped back toward his car, which was sitting in our driveway. I got up, opened the door, and hollered, "Hello??" But there was no one around his car, meaning he was now at the front door. Brilliant.
By the time I ran upstairs, he was trying the front lock and yanking the door around.
So, I opened it. "Can I help you?" I said, with my classic - what the hell are you doing? - look.
Visibly shocked that someone was home, he stuttered and stammered around a bit, eventually saying, "Is this 1021?"
"Yep." I was glaring at this point. I have no tolerance for people attempting a break-in when I'm sitting at my desk.
He started reading something off of the flourescent orange keychain in his hand, "1021...Chris... Lane...This isn't Chris Lane, is it?"
"Nope. It's one street over," I said, pointing. He began apologizing profusely, and I nodded as I shut the door in his face.
Looking towards the door, I found a man in paint-splattered clothes with a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips, shoving a key into the lock, scraping it around, and then trying to rip my door down when it would not open. Completely caught off guard, I sat staring at him try to break into my house. I was confused because he had a key, I was sitting 10 feet away, and he had not knocked.
The week before I moved in, my landlord had workmen coming and going around here trying to fix the leak in the master bathroom. They had the floor, walls, etc. ripped up in the bathroom, and despite the fact it was a royal mess, Bird was sleeping in the attached room. One night, in the middle of the night, a workman walks into the bedroom in which she's sleeping and starts working. Should I reiterate it's the middle of the night. Bird was the only one here.
Knowing that story, I was assuming this would-be robber was someone sent by the landlord, but, I figured he would have called to warn us.
He was pissed after about four go-rounds with the key and tramped back toward his car, which was sitting in our driveway. I got up, opened the door, and hollered, "Hello??" But there was no one around his car, meaning he was now at the front door. Brilliant.
By the time I ran upstairs, he was trying the front lock and yanking the door around.
So, I opened it. "Can I help you?" I said, with my classic - what the hell are you doing? - look.
Visibly shocked that someone was home, he stuttered and stammered around a bit, eventually saying, "Is this 1021?"
"Yep." I was glaring at this point. I have no tolerance for people attempting a break-in when I'm sitting at my desk.
He started reading something off of the flourescent orange keychain in his hand, "1021...Chris... Lane...This isn't Chris Lane, is it?"
"Nope. It's one street over," I said, pointing. He began apologizing profusely, and I nodded as I shut the door in his face.
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