Finding Yourself at Ground Zero

I'm going to apologize right now for the bathroom humor, but while at the movie theater last week I found myself in a smelly situation that I'm sure is not unique to me. You know when you walk into a stinky public bathroom and there are 10 stalls and you just so happen to walk into ground zero? A zillion (three) things go through your (my) head: Be mature and just suck it up while sucking up as little fresh oxygen as possible; stay and have the person who walks in behind you think that it was your doing; or get out before you loose your popcorn and not be concerned with issues of maturity and the fact that everyone has been in been the cause of a nose wrinkling of the odorous kind (even if the last time you will claim was when you were in diapers and the only reason you have to claim it is because your cousins David, Daryl, and Darin were on the other end and bring it up at opportune moments).

One of these moments happened to a friend of mine. We'll call her "Erica". She had a delicious birthday meal at the Olive Garden. But about halfway home "Erica" was feelin' the rumblin' in the tumblin, if ya know what I mean. So she pulls over at a rest stop on the interstate - because it's an emergency and it's safe in it's anonymity. Except that it's not. Because when she walks in, there are only two other people in there who just so happen to be a former student of hers (she's a teacher, like me) and the student's mother. And what were they doing there? Getting ready for homecoming, naturally! Because this girl is, with the help of her mother, trying to fool her father into thinking that she was going to the homecoming dance dressed the way she was when she left the house instead of the way she was looking when she left the rest-stop. And as "Erica" walks in to take care of business, there is a definite acknowledgement of the presence of the other - a conversation, in fact. So there "Erica" sits after she makes her way to the furthest stall possible, wondering how she is to deal with the explosive situation that she finds herself in. And what's worse is, while she is deliberating on how to forage the last shreds of her dignity and leave with as few losses as possible while her assailant looms ever closer, fate throws yet another curve ball she was not expecting: the student tries to have a conversation with "Erica," her former teacher, while she is suffering with the enormity of her decision while seated on the throne. I would imagine the student felt uncomfortable, wondering why her teacher is 'going' without really going. But there poor "Erica" sat, the situation ever more pressing, for what felt like forever, having a conversation over the bathroom stalls with her former student and her former student's mother, all while trying to hold it in while coming up with - at best - how she will manage her speedy retreat, all the while knowing that she is a) dropping a bomb on everyone (creating 'ground zero', if you will), b)everyone will know it was her, and c) she will have to walk past the suspecting unsuspecting to make that very retreat. What's a girl to do? Luckily, as "Erica" likes to tell herself and must, in all actuality, believe in order to move past this incident, another person did walk in and there is a chance the two makeup brush holding women at the sinks in the rest stop bathroom getting ready for Homecoming 2007 thought the things they heard were coming from this new woman, OR that the flush of toilets drowned out the sound of "Erica's" humiliating defeat with their swirling cascades of water. But "Erica" will never know for sure, and neither will I. But for her sake, I sure hope this case of mistaken identity bait and switch worked. Because "Erica" and I look a lot alike. And that is DEFINITELY not something that would EVER happen to me. I just don't do those sorts of things.

Silence of the Donkey's

There was a glorious lightning storm west of town a few evenings ago. My housemate Lisa and I took a drive to catch a better view. My eyes celebrated the unusual patterns the lightning bolts made. The scent of fresh cut hay and bulging rainclouds wafted through my olfactory system. My ears delighted in the soft sounds of the breeze rustling the wheat grass and the ever so soft hawing of the neighborhood jackass. No, really. Someone - probably even more than one someone - near my house owns a donkey. It wakes Laura and Lisa up in the middle of the night sometimes. But what exactly do you do about a rude jackass? An obnoxious jackass? A loudmouth of a jackass? It's not like you can go to the jackass's mom and complain to her...
When I first moved into my current house I slept in a different bedroom. It was upstairs and at the front. Because I like fresh breezes blowing on my face as I sleep (is that a sign of being a romantic? I like to think it is), I would often have my window open for most of the year. Even in winter it would still be open a crack. But in the winter, sound seems to carry farther then it does otherwise. And that's when the lambs would wake me up. Can you imagine being woken up at 3 in the morning to the sound of lambs? Try picturing it. Go ahead...I'll wait. It's cree-peee, right! So now be the person who (because said cold air carries said sound so well) thinks the lambs are lost somewhere on your street and opens the front door to find them when she can't see them out the screen on her window because her nose is in the way. But NOTHING IS THERE! The crying of the ghost sheep is the only thing that is there, except now for me in my pajamas. But what do you do? How do you obtain the silence of the lambs? It's not like the kids who are having a raucous party down the street and you "invite" the cops. Who you gonna call to silence the ghost lambs? And you better not say "GhostBusters!" Grow up. Some things are just not a laughing matter.

Do you think the temple could make an exception and allow this?

Seinfeld, Again. Already.

As I mid-power walked-jogged-walked this evening (each done seperately, by the way, and not the jogrun some fools can be spotted doing from time to time while I sit in my moving car and laugh at them), I heard a dog, a horse, and a sheep. I guess the cows were on strike. But the ants weren't. I heard them crunch as I stepped on them. At the time, crushing 3,000 swarming red ants with the bottom of my shoe seemed like an awesom idea. In retrospect, I could have made better use of my time. Doing what I am not sure. But the couple I didn't see sharing the sidewalk with me sure thought I was strange. But I'm not. I'm just a girl living in the country, like them. But I don't like country music like they probably do. Welllll, not usually. I did go through a country music faze when I first needed wide open spaces. But after I had had room to make my big mistakes for a while, the novelty wore off. What hasn't worn off is my annoyance with the travel company that I went to Europe with a month and a half ago. When I called about $250 that I was supposed to be refunded but have yet to see, the woman told me that it hadn't been requested yet. "Requested?" I said, "Shouldn't that be automatically sent if I paid for something I didn't get?" (as she talked over me). "It's not how our system is set up," was her reply (while I didn't talk over her). Some people can be so rude. I mean, the least the girl could have done was tell me she forgot! I might have rolled my eyes but I would have been able to sympathize - who HASn't "forgotten" to give someone $250 dollars! I can honestly say that if I had a business, my system would be set up better. AND that if I owe you money and haven't given it to you, it's becuase I have forotten. But only trust me as much as you can trust a person who steps on swarming ants for fun. And maybe not even that much.

The Seinfeld Post

So I really want to be writing something really profound right now. But I got nothin'. I'm just sitting at the kitchen counter taking a (completely un-posed) picture of the cherries I'm eating while essentially wasting precious time surfing the internet (it always seems like a good idea at the time, doesn't it?!) when I should be reading. I have only finished one book all summer long, and it was AWEFUL! But I kept on reading it...and reading it...and reading it. And the author is apparently a bestselling author. Bleh. I had more original conversations with my friend Megan's 2 1/2 year old daughter this weekend than the writing in this book had. But tomorrow should be ok if I can get to bed at a reasonable time instead of blogging about nothing. I'm going to a play at the Tony Award winning Shakespeare Festival tomorrow night. I hope it doesn't rain. It's predicted. Scateredly. I made cookies tonight. They are good. But the cherries are better. I made the cookies instead of going on a power walk - but I don't do the swingy arm thing, so maybe it's only a mid-power walk - because it started to drizzle when I opened the door. And since in rained all day I didn't want to find myself in a wet t-shirt contest somewhere on Midvalley Road. It didn't end up raining, but now I've got these cookies. They're good. They should win a Tony Award for "Best alternative to a mid-power walk." But these cherries I'm eating are fantastic! I should really get to bed. It's 12:38. I hope it rains tomorrow. But not at night becuase I'm going to a play. In an outdoor theater. As You Like It. Wouldn't it be aweful if I didn't like it? Kind of like a trick. Becuase you went becuase the title tells you you will like it. Kind of like Burger King's slogan "Your way, right away," even though I have never gotten anything right away at Burger King in Cedar City. But I do like their burgers, which is good because it was made my way. So I hope the play is good too, like my burgers. These cherries are good...

Back in the Badger State

Well, it's that time of year again when people remember how much they like their families and get together outside to grill up some bratwurst. I, like so many before me, trekked east to the Midwest (how's that for an oxymoron!) to enjoy the best about being part of a Forever Midwestern American Family. I ate my body weight in bratwurst, pizza, and mom's chocolate walnut chocolate chip cookies (not an oxymoron). I got annoyed with a sibling, played with the grandkinds (my parents, not mine), was cultured and naturalized, shopped 'til Idropped, and visited with a lot of good and well-established family friends (I wanted to say 'old' just now, but I was going more for the idea that they've been friends for a long long time and less about how many years they have been cutting their finger nails). I went for as many walks as I could, and rummaged through old family pictures while Mom and Dad told us family history stories and relationships. I slept in three different beds, and held three different darling babies. I enjoyed sunsets over Lake Michigan and walking through misty rain. I spent quality alone time with my parents and all of my siblings. I laughed so hard I cried and was sad so hard I cried. I saw funny faces, annoyed faces, pretty faces, and handsome faces, and faces that love each other. No matter what else happened or will happen this summer, I got to spend some of it with my family. And THAT is priceless.

Gosh, I love 'em!