Such happiness and sadness all at once

What an amazing weekend!

My sister from NC shows up, just walking down the road in front of our house as if she owned the town. I wasn't going to see her until Thanksgiving, she reminded me last week when we talked. She's such a liar, and a darn good sneak. This is the second time in a year that she's lied to me, in order to glean all the information she can about what's going on with the family reunions and then flown up, and with the help of our ever-ready cousin Brian, surprised us with her presence. Last time she came in a futon box - sealed up and everything. This time, she was walking past like the dozen or so other people in the neighborhood. She's crazy!

To add to the excitement, Evan's fiance, Emily, also showed up - surprising all of us, again with the assistance of Brian.

We had a fabulous family reunion with 72 people in attendance yesterday at the Francesville Park. About half of them, my dad noticed, were under 4 feet tall. My aunt Judy was offended by that statement, but it was true, most of them children, with the except of Judy and one or two other women.

Mom flew out to AZ today to see Katie. We're all pretty jealous and sad that we'll not see her till August or longer. Ev might not see her until his wedding in November.

The most heartbreaking thing happened this weekend, clouding everything with an emptiness. Jeffery - my cat of 18 years - died on Sunday morning. He'd been starving himself, or not able to eat, for weeks. He was nothing but a pile of bones with one very swollen and disfigured back foot. He couldn't see very well; he'd turn to the wall or the corner or anywhere away from you when you'd offer him canned cat food (a special treat). His last few months have been awful - every movement he made was strained and took every ounce of energy the poor guy had. Makes me cry just thinking about it.

I couldn't bear the thought of him living in pain, the cause of many tears. But I couldn't bear the idea of "euthanizing" or "killing" him, either - which were the only other options my mom could find. Perhaps I've always put a little too much personality and humanity into my cats, but there was no way I could justify taking his life even when I didn't want to watch him suffer. Is there an answer to this dilemma? How do people justify turning off machines and....oh I don't know. It's death and I don't handle it well at all.

I think Maddie is going to be a knock out! This is how she'll have her hair done for her role as the Flower Girl in Uncle Evan's wedding in November. 

Matching dresses...can you believe how proud Maddie looks? They are two peas in a pod. 

Sisters - Maddie and Katie 

Another Steve-ism

"Can you imagine us in taupe suits?" He grimaces as Evan covers his face with a blanket.

"I'd look like an inverted banana." Evan falls out of his easy chair, laughing.

This is why we love him and keep him around. Who thinks these things, let alone says them?

My dad is hilarious.

Anticlimax

Whoever knew that graduation would ever not be a big deal. I graduated from college - four years of higher education. My friends and I were all sitting in a row together, well, I like most of the English majors and there we were, altogether. I walked up with them. I received a diploma and a towel. I bought a beautiful skirt/shirt combo and high-heeled shoes for the occassion. We wore robes of synthetic fibers, baking in the sun.

Even though I couldn't sleep last night - the inner anticipation of the "big day" - even though I cleaned 45% of the apartment by myself - despite all of this, The Big Day was a few hours in an uncomfortable chair, a photo-op with my parents, brother and grandparents afterward, three significant hugs with friends that I love dearly and may never see again, and a jungle of black robes and sun-burned faces separating me from most of the people I have come to identify with in the last year.

I drove around campus one last time, just so I could soak it all up - everything I love and hate about Taylor. It wasn't until that point that I felt any sadness. As I passed the dorms, I saw the faces of my friends on the strangers who were transporting their lives to the back of their pickups.

Despite my negativity towards Taylor, there are a great number of people who have forever impacted me. I wish I could give them all space here to thank them. Professors, employers, friends.

I cannot believe I never have to return to Fairlane Apartment 2 J. I cannot believe I never have to sit through another lecture in a circle in Reade Center. I cannot believe I'm free from the tortures of the DC and the Grille. I cannot believe I will never again live with my friends, within two miles of all of them. I cannot believe I didn't even get to say goodbye to two-thirds of them.

Were these the best days? Are they over?
Did I miss out? Did I mess up? Did I forget to mention how important you are to me?

The first time

I graduated from college today. First time.

I actually achieved a long-term goal - graduating with honors. Again, first time.

My boob-staring friend looked at my skirt, not my boobs. First time!
When I was relating the story to Liz, I might have said a bit too loudly, "At my skirt, not my boobs!" Just then, a friend whom I don't know very well walked around the corner. I gasped.
"Did you just hear what I said?"
He turned his face, though I could see his smile, and walked slowly away from me, nodding his head.
Slightly awkward.

Librarian Superheroes

I went out for ice cream with my two bosses today. Both of them are so kind and generous, and very excited that I'm going to become like them. Or so they think.
Dan gave me the librarian action figure - he called it a joke, but I've wanted it for over a year. I found it on a website that was selling Shakespeare action figures, and decided I wanted both of them. The action figure is modeled after a real-life one - Nancy Pearl - the most famous librarian in recent years for her program of trying to get the entire city of Seattle to read the same book.

"The role of a librarian is to make sense of the world of information. If that's not a qualification for superhero-dom, what is?"

She's right, you know. Looks like I'll get to be important after all.

Katherine Elyse Forman - isn't she beautiful?! 

He Loves Me!

It's been nice knowing you. I'll never see you again.

Why do we say things like this when we're getting ready to graduate. It's depressing to all involved and seriously, who really wants to hear it? I did it at lunch today, more as a joke. But Jamin got up from the table, leaned down to pick up his tray and replied,

"Leave me here for one more year, and that's what you get, Bitch!"

He walked away from the table. It could be the last words I ever hear from him.

Now that's funny.

She's Here!!!

We've been anxiously awaiting the arrival of Katherine Elyse Forman, and she came this morning at 2:58 am after her mother threatened to have her induced at 5 am. She squeezed her way in just in the knick of time. She's huge. Not in a fat way, but in a comparative way. At 8 lbs., 11 oz., she outweighed her older sister at birth by 2 lbs., 2 oz. and only outgrew her by 1/2 an inch. I got her first picture via email just now...precious, but with a very Cummings nose (that would be from my Mom's side, which is a trait all of the girls in my family).

She's "filled-out," Mom explained in her birth announcement email.
Don't worry, Katie, we all understand, it's the most common trait in the Gottschalk family!

The President

Went to the "Senior Scoop" tonight, which is the ice cream social at the university president's house exclusively for those of us graduating. The main reason people go, besides the free ice cream, is the gift they give to each senior. This year it was a travel alarm clock with "Taylor University" in the bottom corner. Brilliant. In order to receive it, you had to shake hands with the president as he said "Congratulations." It was the first time I've been within 10 feet of him, and the second to last time I'll see him-the final time being graduation day, when again I shall shake his hand and receive a "gift" from him.

sniff, sniff

"Does it smell like food in here."
"Yes, it does."
30 seconds pass before we burst out laughing. The store was Lane Bryant.
Are you kidding me?

Finally, a nice Marine

We all know I'm a bit wary of Marines these days. Today, however, was a day of running into extremely pleasant and helpful people. One of these was a Marine at Panda Express.

"Are you in line."
"No, we haven't decided, go ahead."
"Well, I can't now...You two really should order."
"But we really don't know what we want. Please, go ahead and order."
"No, really, I can't."
"I demand you go in front of us."
Plucking at his Marine uniform, "Um, you forgot to wear your uniform today. I don't have to take orders from you." A cute smile followed.

A few minutes later, he was standing at the counter with me.
"So you like choppers?"
Huh? Then I remembered I was wearing my new Helping Hands purchase, a North Shore Choppers t-shirt.
"Well, this is from a second hand store, but yes, I do like choppers."
"My office at home is covered in pictures of choppers and bikes."

You renewed my confidence in the goodness of people, especially Marines.
Thank you, Marine.

words

I love words. I also hate words. Rarely am I neutral to words.

I was reading Nine Stories by JD Salinger earlier this week and came across these few sentences. Salinger has an amazing command of words, creating the picture, the image of what is happening as you read. Having never read any of his work till now, I agree with my friends who love him. His dialogue and descriptions are fantastic.

"Viciously, with more of a whimper than a sigh, he foot-pushed his top sheet clear of his ankles, as though any kind of coverlet was suddenly too much for his sunburned, debilitated-looking body to bear...His head was propped up just enough to rest uncomfortably, almost masochistically, against the very base of the headboard."
~ from "Teddy"

the question of a lifetime

Why, please explain to me, are you a boob-starer. You are my friend and yet you are a boob-starer.

I've had enough. I don't wear revealing clothing. I don't accentuate my chest. I don't even have great posture. Look at my face, even if you find it more painful to look there than at my chest, please look at my face. Or, an even better option, look away, glance back for some quick eye contact, and look away. I won't care as long as I know you aren't staring at my chest.

Since coming to college, I've had several guy friends who have a hard time looking girls in the face because they are preoccupied by boobs. Girls don't like that. They aren't flattered (or if they are, they shouldn't be). Even trying to be discrete about it doesn't really make the situation any easier. We still know what's going on. It's embarrassing for us; it should be embarrassing for you.

I don't go around looking at your crotch when I talk to you (you being a guy). I look at your face, or your hands if they're nice-looking.

So guys, please, don't be boob-starers. If you see your friends doing it, tell them. Make the world a more friendly place.

Free time...what's that?

What do you do with yourself after college?

Even though I'm going to grad school in the fall, soon enough I'll be done with school forever. What will I do with free time?

Do I read? Do I exercise? Do I sit outdoors and enjoy nature? Do I call friends? Do I try to find a second job?

I haven't had free time since middle school, minus that summer a few years back when I didn't have a job and all I did was watch TV and eat. I know there's more to life than TV. And eating.

If all I do now is study? Will I become a workaholic? I fear that, and yet I can see it happening. Look at my dad - it's what we know. Shouldn't we work hard, play hard?

2 year old observation

"I don't like Hondas anymore. I only like Ferraris."
Madeline Grace Forman

If my child knows the difference between Honda Civics, Honda Accords, Honda Elements (and their different wheel packages), Mercedez S500s, E500s, and E320s, Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and Porsches - I will most definitely send him or her to live with Madeline Grace Forman, resident genius of the Gottschalk-Forman clan.

Showering Magicians

Saturday, Liz threw a great bridal shower for our roommate. I had a very minor hand in the planning, really Liz should get all the credit. It was small, but that made it more inviting: I knew everyone there except Leslie's favorite professor and one of her friends from the music department. Liz's mom gave us a delicious punch recipe and combined with thumbprint cookies from Muncie (apparently all the rage down there) and Joy's pumpkin bread - we were set for an amazing time. Fun games, not annoying, perverse or ridiculously mundane ones. I hesitate to say I had fun, but it's true. I did.

Last evening, I met up with my cousin (surprisingly like me since childhood, although we didn't communicate for several years in our adolescence) who is attending a nearby university pursuing the same degree as me and several of my closest friends here. She's fantastically sarcastic and pessimistic; refreshingly so because she exists as a living contradiction in her amazing faith and her love of her family. She at once reminds me of myself, my mother, my sister Leslie, and a number of my close friends. I introduced her to The Saint and we both adored Simon the Magician for an evening.

Invitation

What: dinner of barbeque ribs, shrimp, and chicken on the grill, with baked beans, fresh veggies, and biscuits, followed by a triple layered ice cream pie

When: Friday, 7:30 pm

Where: Indianapolis

Host: cousin Brian

What to expect: tearful laughing, scrumtrulescent dining, and riotous gaming with my favorite family members and friends

The realization came as a shock to me, seeing as I am revolted by touch most often. The first time it happened was three years ago. The little boy I was babysitting (not my favorite thing to do-I was desperate for money) fell asleep while we were watching a movie. He wanted to be held, so he'd crawled up into my uninviting lap. The feeling of his steady breathing, his adorable little face resting on my chest; I didn't want to move, so I slid down onto the couch, and we both slept for hours. I couldn't let it go - that feeling...of...of touch.

Sometimes I wonder why I recoil when people - anyone: friends and strangers alike - run up for a surprise hug or pat me on the head or just reach out and touch me. It doesn't make sense, really, being the youngest of four children, but it's always been a part of who I am.

Recently, a friend just collapsed onto me. Whether tired or just lazy, this person used me as a human pillow. And for the first time in a long time, I didn't recoil. I was comfortable and not disturbed by this form of touch.

It's just come to me - I need to gain a hundred pounds in order to become a human pillow - that's my calling in life. If it worked with the kids I've babysat and my niece and this friend, that has to be it.

Like in So I Married An Axe Murderer, "I'm a human blanket." Only a pillow.

Last Day of April

It was a success. In fact, I feel like our senior seminar group picked one of the most life-applicable topics and made a real contribution to getting the word out about the importance of Fair Trade. We had two vendors - Phulbari and Friends of the Third World, Inc. - at the Fair Trade Fair in the Student Union and three musicians - Joe Ricke, The Lions, and Josh Garrels. We estimated that nearly 100 people came tonight. I've never before felt that I made a contribution to something with such lasting effects. I need to get involved in projects that have a worldwide scope. I like knowing that I'm a part of a vision that goes beyond what I see daily.

Before the Fair Trade Fair, my two favorite people on campus watched an old classic movie with me. If by classic I mean a movie that we watched in the theatres in middle school - almost ten years ago. We laughed at the lame special effects, which we used to find superb, and cried during the touching scenes, the same scenes that got to us at age thirteen. What is better than watching favorite movies with your best friends?

I graduate from college three weeks from today. How is that possible when I cry watching the same movies I cried at in middle school, when I feel eighteen on good days and twelve on bad ones?