Back to School Clothes

I have found the jackpot, people.

In the next town over is a newly renovated Goodwill that I happened upon in my adventures of back to school shopping (I go back to work in a week).

Oh my.

Now I’m not one to search out labels, but if I were to choose my two current favorites, they would be Ann Taylor and Eddie Bauer. And this place must have been where the James Deans of those clothes go to heaven. They were gently used and had not a lot of wear.

Score!

I came home with 7 articles of clothing for just over $30. How can you beat that?

Now if I can make a commitment to not count “running fingers through my hair” as brushing it and to not frantically throw war paint on my face in the car ride to work, I may just look somewhat presentable.

Published in: on July 28, 2010 at 7:24 am  Comments (4)  

Twiggy

I was headed out The Shack’s back door to bask in the 110 degree heat index, when my hand closed around something large, wiggly, and with many legs.

I screamed.

Neighbors probably thought someone got murdered in The Shack, so they put down their knitting and shook their heads at their spouse saying, “It was only a matter of time…”

Shacks get a bad rap.

(can you see the turkey farm?)

But it really wasn’t a 300 lb spider that my brain told me it was.

In fact, it was just our friend Twiggy, the stick bug.

Since our initial spotting of Twiggy, we have seen him roam around the property, popping up here and there.

Until recently, that is.

We haven’t seen him in about a week and have come to the conclusion that a dog is playing catch with him. You had a good run, Twiggy. And so did that dog..after he caught you.

Published in: on July 26, 2010 at 7:35 am  Leave a Comment  

Around the Shack

I’ve enjoyed exploring our piece of outdoors near The Shack. It can simultaneously calm and reinvigorate me.

Like the semi-canopied dirt roads.

Or the various moths and butterflies that circle me as I walk. (There is one house on the way that I swear keeps a coyote chained up in the front yard. Every time I pass, it groans out of agony for not being able to eat me alive. It would be my absolute last resort, but I’m not taking chances.)

Our small little graveyard.

Which is right next to a tree cemetery. This little grove has confirmed my belief that dead trees are just as beautiful as full, luscious ones. They’re like old, wrinkled faces… I wonder what they’ve seen.

And then scattered throughout are horses of varying colors. The white ones are my favorite.

But most importantly, and probably most simply, open space. I never tire of these views.

Published in: on July 21, 2010 at 3:15 pm  Comments (3)  

Y is for Yawn.

Definitely not for Young. Last weekend, our local casino hosted a live concert for Eve 6. Hello 1998!

The roommates and I looked at each other, debated, and then agreed that if it were even just 5 years ago, there would be no question about going folks. So now we have to go whether we want to or not if only to prove that we have just as much energy as we did back then.

The concert kicked off at 10pm which in college was the time we would have just started getting ready. I was ready for the local-breakfast-joint portion of the night by 9:45.

We hung in there for the night, occasionally yelling how absolutely Young we all are, had a couple cocktails, played a few hands of blackjack and even ate breakfast at the casino itself.

When we got into the car, exhausted, we felt like we really lived up to our college days.

And then we looked at the clock. It was barely after midnight.

Sigh.

Moving on to a new phase in our lives, I guess.

Published in: on July 19, 2010 at 8:24 pm  Leave a Comment  

Jane Austen Festival, Part Two

On our way to Louisville, mom asked me to try on The Dress. She’s had this puppy since the late 60s when she wore it. So with a groan, I grabbed it from her knowing it would end just like when we tried on The Wedding Dress: A tug here and tug there only to get it over my knees. Man, she was a twig.

So I grabbed the thing, went in the back of the RV and threw it on, all the while trying not to be thrown from one side of the vehicle to the other. Afterwards, I noticed that all of the windows were open to the road.

You’re welcome drivers of Interstate 277.

So you  already know the outcome: Lots of letting out.

Whatever. Women were fuller back then anyway, right. Right?

Once arrived, we suited mom up in her (Bavarian maid?) outfit and headed over to the festival. We didn’t have long to explore the grounds because we’d signed up for a reticule class.

It should’ve been called the ridicule class, because my gawd I have no skills in sewing or embroidery.

At one point, mom asked something to the effect of “Can you not even tie a knot?”. And I replied that she had had almost 30 years to teach me.

But no, I can’t tie a knot with thread, thankyouverymuch, so please just do it for me Bavarian Maid. And after you’re done, go bring me some tea.

After the class, we wandered around the property slowly due to mom’s back. But this gave us ample time to throw myself on unsuspecting people trying to enjoy their day.

Oh, you’re relaxing in the shade and eating lunch? Well let me join you!

Click

Oh, you’re seconds from going on stage to do a runway show? Well let me join you!

Click

Oh, this is an all-male club? Well, then I’m definitely joining you because it will make the boys on my husband’s side annoyed.

Click

Oh, you’re trying to have a pleasant walkabout with your husband? Let me join you!

Click

And it went on and on and on…. No one escaped the tornado that was Carolyn (and her maid).

Later, we toured a refurbished home on Locust Grove.

Mom couldn’t make it to the top floor, and how she would’ve enjoyed this tour guide! She was so serious and engaging. “…oh now this is really interesting!” and so on and so forth.

After the tour was over, mom asked what time our tea was to be served because she was quite hungry. Wondering why I wasn’t on par with her hunger level, I remembered having found her near some peculiar-looking larger than life plants.

So we headed to the tea room for lunch.

On both days we had interesting companions.

On day one, we sat with a quirky lady (and you know how much I love quirkiness) from Chicago as well as her sister.

The next day we found some kindred spirits. A mother and her daughter had come to share the day together.

We first toasted to Jane Austen, clinked our glasses, and then cried. No seriously. We teared up. It started when J asked if we watched the series Cranford. Not two seconds after she got the word out, mom and I squealed. And then promptly teared up.

It’s hard to explain. But when you meet people who have the same exact interests as you and love it to the same degree as you, it just makes you feel connected to them.

After tea, we had another class to attend. But the sunny skies and green grass called out to me. So I parted ways with mom and set off on my own. I could’ve walked those grounds all day long, it was so relaxing.

And then I stumbled upon a firearms display: shooting several different styles from that era. Very interesting!

I got up in this presenter’s face for a photo, but I’ll save that for a later time. It has something to do with a husband of mine.

Anyway, all-in-all we had a good time. The weather was perfect (considering it rained all the way up and all the way back from KY) and there were interesting presenters. I wish mom’s back had been better and we’d done a couple things differently, but like I said, it was fun.

It’s even spurred me to find other regency-era events in my area, possibly to partake in? We’ll see. And then so will you.

Published in: on July 15, 2010 at 9:27 am  Comments (2)  

Jane Austen Festival, Part One

We’ve only just arrived home from our trip to Regency England (aka, Louisville KY) and am enjoying reliving memories from it….

…Like my senior portraits from the graduating class of 1798. I was voted Least Likely To Die During Childbirth.

Thank you, birthing hips.


And then there was the Regency Ball…

I think I may have set my expectations a wee bit high that I’d be dancing until my slippers hurt and I blame it on the Contra dancing group from a couple weeks ago. They had explained to me that it is considered rude to dance with the same person the entire night, even if he/she is your date…. Especially if there are more females than males, or vice-versa.

This was not the case Saturday night for little Miss Carolyn. Sigh.

When we arrived, a nice lady did ask me to dance for one of the first songs and I had to endure feeling like Sasquatch next to her petit little thing.  She was exceedingly sweet, though, and I was grateful for helping me segway into a dancing mentality. I’m new to this whole dancing without caring thing. And since mom was out of commission due to a back injury, I was on my own.

Afterwards, I sat down and we eagerly waited to be asked for the next song. We waited. And waited. Ogled at pretty dresses… and waited.

Song number two came on, so I used this as an opportunity to get a snapshot because there would be like absolutely no time to do so when I dance the rest of the night away. Poor mom will be just so lonely having no one to talk to.

Song numbers three through six: Mom started to get worried. I was becoming convinced that the wallpaper behind me was also green with pink roses and therefore no one could find me even if they wanted to. So I stood up and paced for awhile until the song ended.

Song number seven: Mom is now despondent and almost irreconcilable.

I’d have given my right leg for someone to ask me. And I probably would’ve danced better without it, too. Maybe not as happily, but definitely with more rhythm. Instead, I sat gloomily feeling more like Mary Bennett than Elizabeth.

You know who Mary is.

Take a guess.

Looking back, why didn’t I ask anyone? If I’d had a glass of champagne in my hand, then game on.

But (in case you’ve forgotten) I’m a functioning INTROVERT, people. No way am I going over to strangers under flourescent lighting and lead them to the dance floor. If I had been with someone more shy, then I would’ve mustered up the guts to do something.

Have you met my mom, though? She is decidedly unshy and tried to get every living creature in breeches and dresses that passed our way to dance with me. My god, you would’ve thought our family was on the brink of financial disaster and she needed me to throw myself at anyone in a cravat. Yet, still no luck.

So instead of acting as my dance pimp, she suggested I improve my countenance. “You know, people are more likely to ask you if you’re smiling, Carolyn.”

Okay, so like this?

“No,” she said… “Try to add a touch of desperation to your smile. Dance partners love that.”

And what d’ya know. Within two seconds of my face exploding from sheer force of countenance, a guy came over and lamented that I wasn’t dancing.

Huzzah!!

He really acted the part too, which I appreciated. All gracefulness and toe-pointing.; I was taken aback by his unabashedness on the regency dance floor.

The night quickly ended, though, before I could come out of  my shell. But I was happy with the dances that I was able to experience.

One note of worthy, however. A lady came up and asked my age. She thought I was 19. Let me repeat that, Nuh-ineteen. That’s for all my fellow gray-haired friends, you know which nursing home you are.

As for the dancing, this Saturday night is another contra night and I’m looking forward to sweating dancing in the rounds I missed out on at the Ball.

However, this time I won’t wear white. Okay, yes I will. Maybe it will ensure me a dance partner.

Published in: on July 13, 2010 at 7:11 pm  Comments (10)  

The Fourth, in Fast Forward

I don’t have nearly enough time. We have been busy moving, packing, playing cards, moving some more, packing some more, more cards and eating. In the middle of it all, we trekked down to Wichita to celebrate the fourth.

When I get back from a Regency-era adventure with my mom, I will sit down and write a proper blog post about the weekend.

Until then, here’s a snippet of our weekend:

Bus Tour

Barn Dance

Lake Swim

Car Stuck

And, yes, the car is still stuck in Wichita as of today. Didn’t even get to see a sparkler in action. Oh well, I got my barn dance in, so the weekend was still a success in my book.

I hear my parents on their way. A week in an RV with just the three of us.

Pray…. Hard.

Published in: on July 7, 2010 at 9:26 am  Comments (2)  

Death, Be Not Proud

I love when I stumble upon a movie that serves me a new slice of literature pie. I watched 84 Charing Cross Road the other night, where Anne Bancroft starts a correspondence with Anthony Hopkins, the owner of a bookshop in England.

Sigh.

What a good one.

At one point, Bancroft reads a sermon from John Donne on death (which of course made me cry.) So I looked him up and found a poem that also made me cry.

Per Bancroft, you have to read Donne’s literature out loud. So do it.

DEATH, BE NOT PROUD

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Published in: on June 22, 2010 at 6:23 pm  Comments (2)  

Contra Twirling Fix

R really does have an adventurous spirit and game to try most anything. Thank goodness too, otherwise being bossy wouldn’t be as much fun.

A co-worker had mentioned that she attends a contra dance once a month in Fayetteville and suggested I go. Well, it only took a few months to find the time to attend one, but last night R and I finally did.

My face positively hurts today from smiling so much. It was like my Jared Hasse smile times a hundred. You remember the smile. It still haunts me.

I was pondering what to tell you to not do if attending a contra dance. Oh, how about wear an all white outfit with no second layering and then sweat like you’re in a sauna. Everytime someone put their hand on my back, I felt them pull away like it’d just been burned.

So while learning the actual dance routine, a conversational routine started to emerge…

  • [hand jerks away from my back]
  • “I’m so sorry. I never sweat like this. I don’t even have sweat glands.”
  • [he smiles apologetically for so obviously showing his repulsion, but then realizes that my sweat caused a one person wet t-shirt contest (which I STILL lost, damn genes) and returns hand to my lower back.]
  • “it’s okay, I know I’m disgusting. Please don’t shut me up in an dungeon somewhere a la Buffalo Bill”
  • [his eyes widen and then immediately twirls me over to the next victim whether it was time to or not]

And then it just repeats. Embarrasingly so.

I finally figured out how to stop that line of conversation.

And then the tale of the father-son duo.

They. were. awesome.

I first turned to dance with the son (in the photo below) who is half my age and literally half my size. I smiled sweetly at him, thinking that the more mammoth of the two of us would have to lead.

Um no.

He grabbed my hand, took hold of my back and twirled me like he was trying to start a fire on the floor. I have never. I repeat, never been spun so fast in my life. The first time I kind of just stared at the blurry faces going by and when he let go so I could dance to the middle of the circle with the rest of the girls, I literally stumbled over my left foot and skidded to the center.

No one made eye contact with me, which as everyone knows is much more embarrasing than if they had only laughed at me.

The next time I was more prepared and stared at his face the whole time. I noticed that he never quite looked back at me, but instead was watching the rest of the group and I finally realized it was so he knew when to spin me out to the next move. Professional. I was impressed.

Then the dad asked me to dance. Here we fricken go again. It doesn’t look like we were going fast in the above photo, but I was hanging on for dear life. It was so much fun.

Notice the Jared Hasse grin. And sweaty face.

I managed to catch R in action too. He really improved by the end of the night. I think I just might make a dancer out of him after all.

We both agreed that we are going to insist that our sons know how to lead on the dance floor. Shouldn’t that just be a basic skill learned by all men?

After three straight hours of dancing, we were exhausted. As we were putting the chairs away, the duo who were playing (a fiddle and a banjo — loved it), played a nice waltz. I was asked to dance and, really, what better way to end the evening than with a slow waltz.

This is definitely going to happen again… because I’m already coming down off my twirling high.

Published in: on June 20, 2010 at 8:02 pm  Comments (2)  

Turkey Farm Shanty

This weekend R and I are moving into our new digs. On a turkey farm.

It’s actually a really cute shanty. R thinks it looks like the quintessential country home to generations of meth users, whereas I think it could easily be used in a movie. You know, like in the last scenes of Silence of the Lambs.

Quite adorable, really.

But it is excruciatingly cheap. Making us one step closer to buying our own bit of starry sky.

And it has space. And quiet. And breezes. And trees.

Put those together and you have the most delicious sound that even an iPod can’t rival.

Published in: on June 19, 2010 at 7:17 am  Comments (2)  

I’d rather be here.

Over Memorial Day Weekend, the trio went canoeing. We could go down these Arkansas rivers every day, it is so relaxing to us.

That is, until my fishing rod gets caught in a tree and the guys have to go back upstream to retrieve it.

Too much fun (at least for the person sitting in the boat taking photos.)

Published in: on June 6, 2010 at 10:07 am  Comments (4)  

I’m Feeling Lighter Today

Hello.

We had an interesting 4th anniversary. First Ryan sent flowers for the second time in all of our relationship. It made me feel shy, I don’t know why.

He knows me well, though, because I’ve been whispering into his ear at night that I’d rather he put money towards a plane ticket to Prague instead of on flowers. Besides, one day we’ll have enough rose bushes to have flowers all the time.

But I really enjoyed these. I’m reading a diary of a 15th century woman in Japan of her life as a concubine and then as a nun. Well, isn’t that the plight of every woman.

The Confessions of Lady Nijo. Only one copy of it remained until someone found in the 1800s and kept it way until the 1940s.

So R knew of my current obsession and bought accordingly. Loved it, R, thank you.

Later we went out to eat a neat restaurant in Fayetteville. They buy locally, organically, and have their own gardens in front of the restaurant. The inside was simple, making the food the main star. Mushroom fries – Hello! You made my day. We were in heaven.

And then hell.

I’d had a stomach ache since Tuesday and just kind of dealt with it. I don’t like taking medicine, even tylenol, so I think it has built up my tolerance to pain. And I really prefer not going to the doctor, because I have a fear of being given too many (unnecessary) medicines. I’m turning into a paranoid freak, I know. But you already knew that.

Long story short, my appendix is now bye-bye. It was in the beginning stages, so I was hoping there might be alternatives.

But I’m glad we went through with the surgery. My great grandpa died of a burst appendix and I thought of him a lot, leaving my grandma in a sad situation growing up.

Fine. Just take the darn thing out, then!

Plus, it meant that R would dote on me. That part has been my favorite.

By the way, how much does an appendix weigh? Maybe I’ll win the weigh-in this week with my roommates.

Published in: on June 5, 2010 at 9:30 am  Comments (9)  

4 years, baby!

Ah, yeaahhh. 4 years. Can’t believe it.

I think I’ll make R watch So You Think You Can Dance tonight. That’s right. 4 years, baby.

I neglected to mention in last year’s post that about month before we were to be married, the roof of our chapel was blown off from a tornado.

Midwest, ugh.

I was sad, R sent me flowers at work (the first time ever — and can I say… so appreciated. No Hallmark law stating he should, just him knowing I was upset and sending an uplifting flower with a sweet note in my time of need. Loved it.),  and I started searching for a new venue. A church down the street offered to take the displaced couples and we had no choice.

But we still went to a service to see who we’d be working with.

They were pretty cool, for being children of the fricken corn.  As soon as the service was over, they turned with arms outstretched and moaning as if half-dead.

Looking back, who doesn’t want to get married in a Thriller video?

So we said yes, and that was that. Oh, if I had to do it over. We’d be in a field, me in a white cotton dress picking wildflowers down the aisle for my bouquet.

Oh well, maybe for our fifth. Right now, enjoy photos from my 3 yr anniversary right here.

While you do that, we will go out to eat with possibly a golf game included. Ta Ta!

Published in: on June 3, 2010 at 7:00 am  Comments (3)  

Dancing Wedding

Dancing Weddiiiiing – Young and Sweet only seventeeeen. You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your li-i-ife.

Wow, this was a fun one. I’ve been to some where I stay for the meal and slip out the door; others where I sit at the table all night talking with friends without even so much as a glance to the dance floor; and still others where I play whiffle ball and serve guests bbq from a gas station.

Okay that last one  was my own wedding. Yikes.

But this one. This one will be the dancing wedding.

We all knew K & D loved to dance, for them to see this all night:

It must’ve just made their day.

It made mine too, because I’m re-entering the world of dancing without caring.

R thinks he’s been duped. You see, in college our circle of friends would go to a place with a dinky dance floor. And while everyone else was bumping to the music, R and I would stand flat against a wall getting to know each other all the while avoiding drinks getting sloshed into our face by someone’s bad dance move. It was fun. Kind of like dodgeball meets dating. So, he thought I didn’t like to dance, which meant that there was no pressure on his end. And there wasn’t. Truly!

Until recently. If there is a packed floor and good music on, then I’m psyching myself up to get out there if I’m in the mood.

And I don’t care if I dance a little Elaine Benes-esque with my one-handed train conductor move, because if you can’t hear… Journey’s playing and it’s time to move.

So when R went MIA after seeing a good dance crowd, I turned around to find my good ole standby. Mom.

Whaaaaat? What is she doing all. by. herSELF?

Something drastic needed to be done.

So I ran to the DJ and requested Backstreet Boys, stat. HURRY. This is an emergency, my mom is sitting all by herself because she’s not really into House of Pain.

He gave me a sidelong glance and hesitated in the B section. “Are you sure it will go over well with this crowd?” I didn’t care, we had to pump some dancing blood back into Momma Pat and this was the ticket.

As the song started, I ran away from him so no one would know who requested the song. No offense, mom. But could you believe that people gave a loud whoop and clapped?

I grabbed mom and drug her out with me.

She was only a little excited.

By the way, nice bra, Carolyn. Jeez. I’m the classy cousin at the wedding with my unmentionables hanging out in every photo. Sigh.

We slow danced… Still couldn’t seem to find R, so had to make-do with taking photos of my sister and her husband.

And then there were dance-offs:

My nephew, W, partook in one and apparently won?

But grandma was cheering a bit too hard for little W, because the dance-off moved onto her:

And she was booty-ed off the dance floor. No one is safe during a dance off, my friends.

But not to be outdone, my brother-in-law (aka “roommate”) had one out with a groomsmen.

I don’t think anyone can compete with suspenders. Sorry N.

Oh, K & D. What a great wedding! I don’t know who this girl is nor why I took the photo, but I think it had to do with the drawing. Does it seem familiar to this old blog post? Click here.

Discuss.

And Dance. Discuss and dance. That’s pretty much how life goes anyway.

Published in: on June 1, 2010 at 8:00 am  Leave a Comment  

Do you think he’ll remember this?

or this?

I hope so. My cousin’s wedding was a blast. It was the first time I danced all night without needing to be three sheets to the wind. Quite freeing.

It helped that the dance floor was absolutely packed, though. Most times it’s just kids out there, but not this crowd. They were ready to dance. And so was I.

Published in: on May 30, 2010 at 11:33 pm  Comments (1)  

Roommates

R and I are loving our new roommate!

I don’t know if the same could be said for N, considering the fact that we are always in his personal space. When he wakes up, he hears “Hi N!!! Just Making Some Coffee!!!” When he goes to sleep, he hears “Go ahead and sleep, N, we’re just going to finish up this 3 hour movie.”  

Ugh. I’d go crazy.

He has a good attitude though and makes fun of the annoyances, so that helps. Like when we were all discussing the book The Five Love Languages, I asked what his language was and he said, “being left alone.”

Soon, though, we will be moving into a new place. And all will be well.

For the record, R is wearing pants. And yes, those are overstuffed slippers on his feet. He makes me smile.

I think the boys are enjoying living together again after so many years.

Here’s a taste.

Published in: on May 20, 2010 at 8:07 am  Comments (3)  

Mother’s Day

We had a nice Mother’s Day. We ate at a quirky Indian restaurant in Eureka Springs while a lady we could’ve sworn was Janis Joplin belted out gospel music.

After a few awkward moments of verbal tug-of-war, R and I finally won the honor of paying for the meal. It’s a lot more fun for the giver when the givee just gives in without a fight.

In R’s family, it’s a different kind of tug-of-war. There’s no discussion of who is paying. You just have to pull an undercover sniper attack on the waitress to get the ticket before the other person does.

Afterwards, we went on a tram tour of the the city. The docent (thank you for the vocab, mom) was cute. Maybe I just liked her white hair, I don’t know, but I did chuckle a lot.

We drove by countless Victorian homes. The entire downtown is in the National Register of Historic Places in America.

I’m glad these two appreciate it as much as me.

We made a quick tram tour stop at a church with cool statues of the stations of the cross.

And then we saw the fudge store. Enough said.

I found some overgrown stairs and immediately climbed them. Poison oak be darned, I’m finding out what’s up there.

Houses.

And people looking through the windows wondering who this chick was with red splotches on her ankles.

Note to self: don’t wear sandals while traipsing through unknown foliage.

We visited one of the many springs in the town and then headed home. We were exhausted! Two full days of exploring, but oh it was worth it!

Can’t wait to explore the many other areas of Arkansas, possibly with some newcomers to the state? More details on that later.

Published in: on May 18, 2010 at 8:56 pm  Leave a Comment  

Trip Down Dad’s Memory Lane

Last weekend, my parents came down to visit. It happened to be on Mother’s Day weekend, and when asked if she was sad to not be spending it with the majority of her kids in KC, she replied, “Oh yeah. I didn’t realize it was this weekend.”

Thanks.

One item on our agenda was to scope out where my grandparents (my father’s parents) grew up. My dad visited his mom’s family once a year on and off and had fond memories.

So we piled into the car and. off. we. went. ..just a spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down…

One thing my dad brought up was the artesian well near his grandparent’s property, which had never stopped gushing out water when he was kid. We weaved our way down some dirt roads and finally found it, on (no joke) Artesian Well Road.

whew.

We later found out that my great-great grandparents owned a store right near this water source, if not practically right on top of it. At one time, there was also a plaque stating that this was a stagecoach stop!

Just past this well is a creek in which dad used to play. When we drove up to it, there were still kids playing in it, which was a nice touch, I thought.

Then we headed back towards the properties.

First, looking to the south to Tater Hill and John Koch’s house.

As we parked, we heard some birds chirping on the wire fence.

So mom brought out their trusty bird book and we actually found it and listed to its song!

I’m one for 235 on the good gift scale. Not bad.

We spotted Uncle Abe and Aunt Sophie’s home and pulled up in front of it.

Dad started pointing out what the different buildings behind the house were for, what had changed, what hadn’t, etc. Then we noticed a man standing out in the lawn.

He didn’t look too happy watching us stare at this property.

So dad decided to pull in and talk to him.

Turns out the home is still owned by Abe and Sophie’s son (Dennis) and this couple is renting from him. They said they had Dennis’ number in their cell and asked if we’d like to talk to him.

This is Dad’s cousin. Yes, we’ll talk to him!

While Dennis was being called, the other guy showed us his timberwolf. No really. A full timberwolf.

I stayed back.

Dennis happened to be in the area and swung by the property. Dad and him shook hands exclaiming how old each had gotten. It was great. He was the one who told us about the store near the well.

They reminisced and described what had changed.

The barn from which they’d gather eggs is still there as well as the building where they’d milked the cows.

The field is there with cows (and donkeys) running amok. Did you know that donkey’s are used to keep away coyotes?

Neither did I.

After we left, we stopped by the old cemetery and found some gravestones. This will help me in my ancestry.com quest. Oh lordie, a couple nights ago, I travelled a few hundred years back into time into the land of Luxembourg, Germany. It was fantastic. Love that site.

Dennis also told us that the house where Dad’s mom grew up in was still standing. Even dad didn’t know about that. We got directions and headed straight there.

Don’t you just love it? Yes, there’s a piece of furniture on the balcony and a stove on front porch, but come on!

I’m just picturing little Gerdie running around with her blonde ringlets and wishing it were up for sale. I want it back.

But for now, I’ll be content with looking at the photos and imagining.

Published in: on May 16, 2010 at 5:18 pm  Comments (3)  

Okay. Really?

On one of our stops over the weekend, we came upon a festival.

I bet R was wishing he had those shades. They’re perfectly round, you know. Exactly what his face needs according to Glamour magazine.

Published in: on May 12, 2010 at 9:44 pm  Comments (3)  

Warrior Dash

First of all, did anyone watch Betty White on SNL? Oh my. Love her.

Back to me.

I met up with some girlfriends down in Dallas for the Warrior Dash. It’s a 3 mile run with obstacles.

And mud.

Lots of mud.

We walked into the courtyard, not knowing what to expect. Me, a pirate. Juice, wonderwoman.

Juice found some of her superhero friends while waiting for our heat to run.

The fire blasted and we were off!! I’ve taken some photos off of the website, so we’re not in all of them. But we did *do* all of these, including swimming across a pond and swallowing muddy water in which I’m sure some people peed.

Hey! Here’s me!! We had to jump over fire.

And apparently this is how I do it. Like a baby fawn just learning how to walk. Could you imagine me as a firefighter.

the last leg was in the mud pit, crawling under barbed wire. You got booed if you didn’t get dirty.

I was too busy making sure my pirate sash covered my mid-section. Forget  trying not to collapse in the mud, did anyone have a girdle??

Here are the other girls we met up with down there. They all carried foam viking weapons through the race.

Afterwards, we hung out in the courtyard area, peeling off mud, and soothing our achy bones with cold ones. A band was playing in the back and we enjoyed people watching.

Something I’d do again and I think R would really like it.

After this, I’ve decided I just might skip on the mud bath option at a spa.

Published in: on May 10, 2010 at 8:14 pm  Comments (1)  

What the.

Why is there a muddy pirate posing next to a dirty Wonder Woman?

Details coming soon.

Published in: on May 7, 2010 at 6:40 am  Comments (3)  

Figh-at Club

It has now been officially three days since all of us have begun living in the Anne Frank’s attic. So far no one has killed each other, although there have been close calls.

You see, literally the moment N walked into the dorm room he pointed at each of us, including himself, and said “you’re fat, you’re fat, i’m fat, we’re all going on a diet.” Then proceeded to whip out a spreadsheet to chart our progress.

[side note: when I told the lady to whom I teach ESL, she said, "Ooohh (in a caring, sad way), but I don't think you(long pause)r husband's fat." That made me laugh. And then I immediately began a lesson on what not to say to women in the American culture.]

Here is the said spreadsheet.

Um.. Rude.

After I recovered from the shock of this multi-colored excel sheet of hell, he asked “So do you know what we’re all doing next? We’re going to the bathroom.”

I laughed, thinking he meant that we were all going to literally go to the bathroom… you know, like Numero Dos. And then I saw N wasn’t laughing. He really was waiting for us to go the bathroom.

Uh, this is weird. But hey, there are magazines in there I guess… WAIT. The scale is in the bathroom.

And like a dog being drug to the vet, I was pushed onto that small piece of unhappiness. How can such evil come from a simple machine?

After they coaxed me out of the closet and convinced me that no more harm would be done, R shoved me into the kitchen and ordered a ‘before’ photo be taken.

We made it through, marriage intact. N still lives with us, too. Barely. We’ve started P90X and I haven’t been this sore since high school.

It is definitely no holds bar. But we’re only on day 3, and I already feel more energetic. Maybe not necessarily happier. R said, “Yeah.. Let’s all live in a dorm room, dramatically cut our calorie intake and start a really hard workout.” There have been some bumps, but we’ll get through.

This is going to be a good thing.

Published in: on May 5, 2010 at 9:46 pm  Comments (2)  

Oh, Stanley!

A few weeks ago, my friend turned a year older. We were on our way to visit R’s parents and stopped through on the way.

Oh my goodness.

Also, Oh Stanley!

That’s what I said every other second for the night we were there.

This is Stanley.

He’s sad.

I love sad dogs.

One time my sister and I went to Petsmart and we found Freckles. He was sad. I still regret not buying him.

Look at those eyes. I know what he’s thinking.

“Why is life so hard. What is my purpose. Who is this person shoving their face into mine. I want to jump out that window over there.”

The next day we woke up and treated S to a round of golf.

But first I had to give her a bday gift.

Our library gives some books away free. And no I don’t mean I just walked out with it. It really was free.

And this was one! Perfect for S.

This book along with a pink plastic flamingo for their housewarming gift has led me to believe that I’m probably the world’s best gift giver.

It ended up being a nice sunny (littly chilly) morning. We only played nine holes before heading off to lunch.

And I actually enjoyed myself. I think it took not playing for a year and a half to come back a little more laid back. That being said, I can’t wait for more rounds.

I wish Stanley would come along.

Published in: on May 3, 2010 at 6:24 pm  Comments (4)  

We have a baby joining the Collier household!!

A baby brother, that is.

R’s younger brother, N, has moved in with us as of last night. We are excited and scared considering we’re all going to share the dorm room for two months.

That being said, if you don’t see status updates for a long period of time, please call the police.

It means I’m dead.

Published in: on April 27, 2010 at 10:29 am  Comments (6)  

Happy Birthday R

Yesterday R turned 29. Fuh-uh-inaly. I forget that he’s younger than me, so when his birthday does come around, it’s a slap in the face that he’s not turning what I will be soon turning.

So I woke him up with his favorite cookie filled platter. Oreos.

“All of this for me?”

We normally don’t exchange gifts for holidays and such, but lately we have been giving each other birthday gifts and laughing at how badly we are at gift giving.

First up, a wooden ladle for when he cooks stew and chili. He mentions it every time he makes those meals.

So he was pretty excited.

No really. He was.

He was, darnit.

And then, straight out of Sky Mall magazine, the Posture Pro for R’s slumping shoulders.

At least he thinks they are.

And like true soulmates, he looked at the exact ad in the magazine but never took the next steps to purchase it.

No, only this idiot did.

Oh well, I got a good laugh out of it, so it was worth it. And he did take it to work this morning, so there.

Happy Birthday R!

Published in: on April 26, 2010 at 4:42 pm  Comments (1)  

Loose Lips Sink Ships

In grade school, we had to interview someone who either fought in or lived through WWII. I called my grandpa and asked him several pre-written questions.

I wish I had done that more often.

But I do remember him telling me that his brother (Dad – can you verify this?) was shot. However, because he was carrying a bible, it slowed down the bullet enough to not incur too many injuries.

I’d always wondered how plausible that story was.

And then, while I was staying with A, I saw this on her coffee table.

It is a metal cover designed specifically for soldiers during WWII and were put in their front shirt pockets to protect their hearts.

Is that neat or what?

Published in: on April 21, 2010 at 10:47 am  Comments (2)  

Yes, it’s finally part three.

I arrived outside of Seattle to meet my childhood friend. We hadn’t seen each other for quite awhile, however our families still keep in contact via Christmas letters and, now, Facebook.

Problem is, you can’t squeal very well over the internet.

And poor A just wasn’t used to it.

Her first taste was on the way home, through this tree-lined street.

Can it get better than this??

And then I squealed over breakfast. French toast with fruit and yogurt.

Uh, hello A. I’m moving in.

Later I paused to take a nerdy photo in the farmers market.

But it didn’t take too long before I squealed over a collection of the world’s largest shoes. It cost 50 cents.

And was well worth it.

The next day we stayed around her neighborhood and ran by the water.

I stopped a few times to “tie my shoelace.”

And ended the visit with a tea room lunch. You know, I had never been to one before? Loved it.

A wouldn’t wear a hat. Hey, I can’t bully around everyone.

But I’ll try.

I had such a great time and cannot believe it took this long to catch up again with an old friend.

Published in: on April 19, 2010 at 5:19 pm  Leave a Comment  

Spring Break – Part 2

I have become a train lover.

It took a bit of prodding and pulling, but by the end it happened.

The train I took from San Francisco heading to Seattle left at 9pm. It arrived the next evening at 7:30.

And I didn’t get the sleeper cabin. [Gasp!] Yes, I actually planned to not shower. Sue me. Wait, don’t. Garage sale season is coming up and I need the money.

I sat at the station like an excited little girl waiting patiently with arms crossed around my luggage (wishing it were a carpet bag). When I heard the announcement of the trains arrival, I of course was the first standing on the platform.

Off came a few passengers for a smoke break and on came me. I found my seat and sat down eager for what, I didn’t know.

It didn’t take long before I did. About an hour into trip, the train came to a halt. I stopped watching the girl in front of me making a move on the guy sitting across the aisle, and looked out the window.

A man was dragged off the train, thrown on the ground and pinned there by several policeman. We later found out he had carried weapons in his baggage.

Nice.

The flirt in front of me finally made the move of all moves and boy accepted. They ended up leaning against each other for a snooze.

I had no one.

So I scrunched up in my seats and tried to make the best of it. A couple hours after I finally quit hearing slurping sounds from seats 22 A&B and started dreaming, the shouting started.

“You B@$*&#! You stupid F&*$)#& B*$&*!! “

Uhhh…

I sat up to watch the verbal form of the wood chipping scene in Fargo unfold. Man, it was bad. And scary.

The train attendants pulled the man down to the first floor. Then we heard them call the sheriff in the next town over to meet the train in ten minutes.

As the train slowed down in the middle of a pasture, out walked an old-fashioned looking sheriff, straight out of 1888. Or maybe I was still dreaming. All I know was that it felt surreal at 3am.

Off they dragged guy #2 and drove him away.

I tried to convince myself that this was the reason I didn’t want the sleeping cabin. But when I went back to my scrunched position I immediately disagreed.

But then I woke up to this: a sunrise in amongst Oregon countryside, complete with smudge marks on the glass. I immediately smiled and pretended I was camping. It was lovely.

I was still tired.

Over the speakers, they announced that tour guides would be boarding the train through a particular part of the trip.

I tripped my way up to the cabin and listened for a good hour or so. The two ladies above were the guides and they were adorable.

We passed through some great scenery and even saw a bald eagle dip down to a lake and then back into the sky. Everyone gasped and pointed. It was fun.

Later I saw another bald eagle in a field and yelled “look!” (completely out of nowhere too. I normally don’t make a sound in a group of strangers when I’m by myself.)

So I yelled “Look!” A group of people laughed and said that it was a cardboard cut-out. And couldn’t I tell that it was at least 10 feet tall?

I laughed. Then cried. It was embarrassing.

But the majority of the time, I sat quietly watching the different scenes go by. I knitted a bit. And read too.

I hardly talked though. And, to me, that was a wonderful experience. Watching people and countryside in silence…. laughing to myself, soaking it all in.

I would love to do it again. Maybe next time with a sleeper cabin. And also a friend.

Published in: on April 16, 2010 at 4:44 pm  Comments (1)  

Spring Break – Part 1

What is my deal? Is this the blogging 7-year itch… Otherwise known as the ‘Blitch’?

A coworker came in the other day singing “She’s lost..that blog-gin’ feelin’…. Woah-oh-oh… the Blog-gin’ feelin’”.

So after a lot of waffling back and forth, my husband told me to stick the blog out. I first felt guilty for spilling all of the dirty details of the blog’s and my relationship to him, but then realized he was right. I’ve come this far, I need to keep going. After all, the blog has been a sturdy partner. So what if it’s a little flaky and definitely not the bread winner. It makes me laugh and listens to all my drama. Let’s do it.

On with the show: My trip to California with Juice.

We had a horrible experience trying to get out of the midwest: flights cancelled, our planes landing in different airports, etc. The weekend was almost called off.

But then I came to after passing out, guilt-tripped her a bit, and we were back on.

But I still think…

Continental sucks. Woops! That was one of my new years resolutions broken.

Oh well. They do.

We finally found our craigslist property that ended up NOT being a scam. Huzzah!

And the next day we went sample tasting (of all sorts)… First chocolate and cheese…

Then olive oil with bread.

I could’ve done this one all freaking day. Go figure.

No literally. There went my figure.

Lastly, wine tasting. We met up with one of my college roommates and her husband. They belong to a couple wineries in Napa and hooked us up with a tour. We were handed a glass to sip on throughout it.

Towards the end she gave us a sample right out of a barrel.

Followed by a private wine tasting in the cellar…complete with wafers and cheese. It was great!!

Afterwards, we had a picnic and continued our wine-sampling right into the evening. We had to. It was Napa.

The next day, Juice and I roamed around a bit more… checking out the winery that hosted a 5K race we were supposed to run in if Continental didn’t suck and then high-tailed it to San Francisco.

..where we popped into a make-up store to freshen up.

We had dinner in Chinatown, milled around a bit, and then I had to leave.

And this is when the trip took a Fargo meets Wild Wild West turn. Bye California! Onto Washington!

Published in: on April 14, 2010 at 2:49 pm  Comments (7)  

I’m back

I tell you what. I hit a wall, man. A big one. Almost to the point where I didn’t feel like continuing the blog. Can’t explain why, but I think it had to do with the sun peeping out from the clouds and warm breeze in my hair.

That, and the chocolate cake I made recently. Yeah, that took up most of my time.

But I’ve survived this funk and am back in it.

So I’ll pick back up where I left you… albeit a few weeks late: my Spring Break trip to the west coast. I haven’t had a spring break since college, so was eager to use it. J came with me to the Napa vineyards where we met up with an old college friend.

Then I took a 24 hour train ride up to Washington.

Where I hung out with a friend that lived on the same block with me in grade school.

My blast from the past Spring Break, up next.

Hopefully.

No, really, I’ll continue.

I’ll just dangle a piece of chocolate cake in front of the computer screen.

Published in: on April 6, 2010 at 9:00 pm  Comments (2)