Even worse than feeling like a loser because of a lack of electronic correspondence...

...is finding out you, a person who loves and cherishes words, used one incorrectly.

How many of you noticed and said nothing? Jerks!

At least I know I have one true friend who calls me out on typos and other misuses of terms, phrases, and general mistakes.

You know you're Technology Dependent when...

...not receiving any emails in one day (except from your mother) makes you feel like you have no friends.

7 months later...repeat the process

For my birthday this past year, Elaine gave me the greatest present ever...She taught me how to make jam. Our efforts were quite rewarding, I must say, and we had a blast messing around in the kitchen.

Because I've shared the end result from that batch with several people, I found myself without jam recently and decided to fix that with another jam-making session. This time, I chose Rochester as my location and my mom as my cooking partner (she also has some knowledge on the process of jam concoction, so choosing her was a wise choice, if I do say so myself).

I had the great idea to make three kinds: red raspberry (because I know so many people who love it), strawberry (because I love it), and triple berry (because mom had suggested a berry medley).

I purchased a dozen small jars and all sorts of frozen fruit, the necessary pectin (which makes the jam part), and we commenced jam activities around 10:30 on Saturday. What I forgot was two extra bags of sugar (do you know how much sugar it takes for jam? Okay, don't ask.) and I lacked the mental capacity to realize that I had far too many ingredients for twelve small jars.

The first batch of raspberry jam not only caused a great mess, actually forming small burns on my arms from the popping and boiling magma on the stove, but it also filled EIGHT jars. We had only four left! mom descended to the basement and emerged with at least twice as many jars as I had bought. We filled them all.

Our triple berry (black, blue, and rasp) turned into quadruple when we found we needed to add more fruit and dumped in the leftover strawberries. I do believe that it turned out to be my favorite.

If anyone is in need of jam, look me up. I have enough to last me at least three years, I think.
Mom snapped some photos to document the immensity of our end product. She captured some great perspectives here. Well done!

Theodore Roosevelt

On Sunday, we continued our exploration of Nehemiah's vision for rebuilding the wall of Jerusalem. This week we were looking at the various distractions and the inevitable criticism that will arise in the midst of trying to reach one's goals. Matt offered this quote from Teddy Roosevelt as an inspiration to not give up, to withstand the trials, to take a step of faith in the direction of our dreams.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”

Too long, and when I say too long, I mean nearly three weeks

I had no idea it'd been so long since I posted. But I see the date stamp on the motorcycle post was Apr. 06.

Since then, Sara W. and I attempted to find red shoes to go with my bridesmaid dress for Elaine's wedding (a completely unsuccessful trip), I have traveled for nearly 24 hours (it seems), and I've spent the equivalent of 2 whole days on a beach in Mexico with some of my favorite people.

We left Saturday circa 8am and arrived in Mexico around 6pm, I think. Our return trip began at 5:30 in the morning, leaving the Forman residence, and ended at 6:30pm, at which point Kyle's bag was lost and we found ourselves in complete sleep-deprived delirium.

Trying to get the girls to be serious at the same time is a losing battle. How sweet is Katie's face here, though? She really warmed up to me this time around, which was awesome. Lots of snuggle-time for me.

Favorite activity on Sunday was the task of burying Kyle. The girls did a phenomenal job, with minimal effort by the adults.

Following that, of course, was their idea of being buried themselves. Franz and Kyle managed to have them completely covered (minus Katie's little arms) in a matter of minutes. Here they are trying to extract themselves from the sand particles.

Franz seemed very relaxed and enjoyed pool time and some football tossing. People watching was, of course, another great activity, especially when the young men on the first floor by the pool lined up a few cases of beer on their
patio table and put the empty cardboard boxes on their heads for good measure--around 11 in the morning. I think it was their last full day at the beach.

Maddie, warming up after some serious hot tub
(also known as tepid tub) and pool time.

After months of hanging out..

Kyle and I have basically no pictures of the first five months, which I find ridiculous. However, since he hates posing (which he calls anything that is not a candid shot), it makes it quite difficult to capture any specific moment, especially if no one else is around to snap the photo.

I'm grateful to Liz B. for the motorcycle shots a few weeks ago, and now to Emily, too, for a few from this past weekend.

Reasons this weekend rocked

When I started working as a professional in January of 2007, I quickly realized what people mean when they say they live for the weekends. However, at that stage of my life, I didn't have anything exciting going on - I simply enjoyed the break from the work cycle.

This year has brought with it an entirely new facet of living for the weekend. This is part of the reason:
(I did have the wrong bike and the wrong picture. Dang it. I've fixed it, I think.)

And while I'm certainly not the person driving this lovely pile of metal, chrome, and rubber, that doesn't preclude me from treasuring the moments aboard it.

I've learned a lot about myself in recent years. Things like I love riding motorcycles, despite the fact that they've terrified me since the 8th grade when one of my friend's brothers died in a horrible bike accident. I've also learned that I love to communicate and tell stories.
But there's more to it. I've begun to trust people, which is refreshing and liberating. Although I still like to have control, I can now give up some of it to others, which makes my life easier in the long run.

Another major breakthrough in the last year and a half is the discovery that I don't hate games as much I thought I did. Board games, card games, word games, you name it, the Gottschalks play it. The gaming has gotten quite out of control as Evan and Emily joined forces and have created the Game Closet On-the-Go, that is to say, the trunk of Evan's car is a portable game storage unit. I say out of control, and yet we all participate and have a blast every time we meet up because of this unifying force.

On Friday night, some of my friends (Leslie D., Kyle, and Sara W.) joined up with a few other people for a Game Night. It was the second one this semester, and I'm fairly certain we shall continue an every-other-month schedule of such events. Never has there been more laughter--pure, unabashed cackling, giggling, snorting, and silent shaking. One newbie, M.J. has the most contagious laugh ever. He didn't stop laughing all evening. We played MadGab and nearly continued to Pictionary and Win, Lose, or Draw, but discovered a lack of pieces for both. Thus, we ended up on Catch Phrase (a personal fav).

Stories abounded, too. From the moment Leslie, Jessi, and M.J. walked in the door talking about a miscommunication involving pie and a bike, to Sara's kindergarten treasure (it was vomit week for her--as well as school pictures) and her friend Kenzie's fire in the men's locker room story from work, we were rolling. Several times I found my self face-planted on the couch, unable to breathe or sit up.

I love these people, and our evening definitely set the tone for one heck of a weekend.

Knowing what awaits me at work tomorrow (4 classes of freshmen and a mess of a web site), I fully comprehend living for weekends. Spending time with my friends, laughing hysterically, playing games, and cruising around on a hot bike. Who wouldn't want that? How could that not make your day...or week?

(for Leslie)

Wordsmith.org's word of the day for April 3rd:

blimey (BLY-mee) interjection
An expression of surprise, dismay, etc.

[Contraction of "blind me" or "blame me", from "God blind/blame me"; sometimes heard in the form gorblimey or corblimey.]

She knows me all too well

Liz sent me this picture from Natalie Dee. She says it reminded her of me.