Surviving an Italian Bathroom, Hotel, and Drinking Fountain

A huge part of the intrigue of visiting places outside of your home country are the little daily quirks that make it different from your daily experience.  There are countries in Asia, South America, and Africa which I'm sure are so different that it is alarming.  But then there is sweet big sister Europe, oh so close in dress, music, food and custom to America that it is easy to think that a one or two week visit really won't be much of an adjustment.  And then you need to use the facilities and your idea of a cookie cutter world crumbles because you've just dropped your drawers without  knowing the answer to one vital question: WHERE THE HELL DO YOU FLUSH????

Take a deep, deep breath and relax.  Italians flush the toilet too.  So look around you.  It most likely is on top of the toilet tank.  No such luck?  Ok, hope is not lost.  Look on the wall.  Is there a button just behind the tank? Is it silver?  Is it divided into two sections? Is it white plastic?  Are there two of them?  Push one.  The bigger button is for a bigger flush.  If it's not on the wall behind the tank, look at an adjoining wall, and breathe a sigh of relief.  No buttons anywhere?  Ok, ok, CALM DOWN!  Is there an elevated tank, because some older toilets have them. The button might be at the bottom of the tank and require you to push up.  Is there a pedal on the floor?  Chances are, it flushes the toilet.  If there is a button on the wall but no faucet handle, then the floor pedal is to get the water flowing at the sink.  So do your business and flush with confidence, knowing you mastered a basic function in another country.  

Notice the bidet on the left of the toilet.  This is in a restaurant.  What if you splashed on your  pants while trying to use it?  Can you imagine, having to walk back through the restaurant after a mishap with the bidet?

If all you see is a hole in the floor, well you're on your own (just use the handicap bathroom, which will always have a standard toilet).

Now, Italian (and lot of European, mostly southern) bathrooms have not one but two porcelain thrones - the one we Americans are used to, and also the toilet's little sister: the bidet. Most Northern American's approach with fear and trepidation, not to mention a lot of confusion, this second pot/sink combo.  If you're like me, you know - or at least have heard rumors about - what it is used for.  Your bum. It's for your bum.  It's a bum rinser (see directions here, and I would strongly recommend the video at the bottom).   Now, I tried to imagine how it was supposed to function (wish I had seen the video years ago!), but couldn't picture how that was supposed to...work.  Can you use a bidet for other things besides yer bum?  Well, the answer is absolutely.  Even if you can't figure out how to use it for that fresh and clean feeling, it makes an excellent foot soaker/leg shaving aide.  Just make sure it's clean first.

Chances are that you will master the toilet flushing at the airport long before you even check in to your hotel. So what happens when you get to said hotel, walk in the door for the first time, and the light switches don't work?  Before you throw your hands up and in frustration head for the metro to take you back to the airport so you can get out of this backwards country, take another breath and think about infrastructure.  Yes, you read that right.  Infrastructure.  Italy is old.  Really old.  It's power grid is equally old, and the bureaucratic red tape to update anything is ridiculous (it's not the locals wanting to live primitively, it's the government making it near impossible to make what we would consider standard improvements).  If you've ever wondered why so many Italians hang their laundry out to dry instead of investing in a laundry dryer, it's probably because running a dryer simultaneously with an iron and a hair dryer could blow the electric grid to their home (well, at least a few dozen fuses).  And energy costs are extremely expensive too, somehow factoring in to the age and the red tape.  SO, when your hotel light switch produces zero results, curse Italian bureaucracy first, and then take a look at that hotel key you are holding.  It is literally the "key" to your lighting problems! The light switch next to the door probably has some kind of key hole, regardless if it's the metal or the plastic credit card type, which switches on the electric current to your room.  Hotels save lots of money and energy when their patrons can't leave the TV on all day or forget to turn off the bathroom heater because when they leave, so does the power.  Oh, and nobody wants to lug a huge key like these ones around (and they were almost ALL like this), so don't forget to turn it in to the front desk as you leave.  This procedure gives you the opportunity to practice your Italian numbers and get to know the front desk worker quite well, so ask him how to get places, to circle your destination on the map, to recommend restaurants, call you a cab, or if there really is an airport strike - they will help and are REALLY friendly.  And some of these workers know lots of languages, so stick around long enough and you'll hear them work their international-relations magic!

Last but not least, getting a free drink of water is one of the best things about Italy.  While you pay an arm and a leg for water at a restaurant because Italians have this weird thing about drinking bottled water, there is drinking water for the taking on the street - if you know what you're looking for.  It may just be a spigot in the middle of a square and look just like what you will see at a campground.  It may be an ornate looking punch jug kinda thing (you know, the ones you see at family gatherings or at catered events with water and lemon slices in them and a little spigot on the bottom) with lots of people gathered around it at the Vatican, or a spout coming out of the side of a still-working Roman-era aqueduct.  Unless there is a sign saying the water is not potable (non potabile), it's safe for the chugging.  Isn't this a great country!

So take a poop with the lights on and then drink an absolutely free toast to Italy with your reusable, recyclable bottle filled to the brim with crystal clear water.  Cin cin! Salute!

I Have A Few Crushes...

...and they happen to wear tight pants for a living.  They run and throw and catch stuff.  People pay a lot of money to see them in those tight pants, and before the time of year when they pay, they line up hours ahead of time to watch them practice for free.  And their names are Donald, Clay, Vic, and Aaron (Greg would have been added to the list, but I didn't see him :( ).  

These pictures area  few months late, but since the Packers are hopefully on the up and up, I thought it high time I documented that I have claimed some of these players as mine before the fair-weather fans get out of line with their swooning.  I was there first, so HANDS OFF!

Waiting for practice to begin.  I may have made an appearance on the nightly weather spot on channel 26 as the fam fought for a place to stand and watch.

#97 is Vic So'Oto.  He walked in to church one Sunday.  I knew from the second I saw him that he was a Packer player.  How?  Well, the fact that he was humongous, Polynesian (of which there are NONE in Green Bay), and the awkward comments made by ward members and his uncomfortable lack of eye contact as he tried to blend in, which in and of itself was impossible as he didn't really fit in the chair...

Oh, that guy?  That's just my boyfriend.  Clay.  Clay Matthews.

He's just cute.  I have a thing for Polynesians.  

AJ Hawk (white guy on the left) used to have the flowing blond locks, but he realized he couldn't compete with Clay's great Norse goddishness, so he cut them off.

Clay, you don't need to keep showing off your biceps - I already know how glorious they are!

That's my boyfriend Donald Driver.

Did you learn those high kicks on Dancing With The Stars?  I'd say they are a 10!

He knows he's cute.

During my senior year of high school, the Packers went to the Super Bowl (and won, but that's beside the point).  One of the players on that team was Edgar Bennett.  He now coaches for the Packers.  I still love him.  He's on the right, talking with Donald.

Oh, hey Aaron Rodgers (and Coach McCarthy)!  

He's even cute from behind ;) - Pun intended.

We got there an hour early, and there were already lines of people waiting to snag a seat in the already full bleachers.

Erin the Spy: Part Deux

From thefrisky.com

A few months shy of a year ago, I wrote a post about my observations about human nature.  My unwitting test subjects were my Facebook friends, as well as myself.  The evidence of my study was in the form of the Facebook Status Update, a term today's social network users throw around without a second thought that there might still be some people in America who don't know what that means.  For those who don't know, it most often takes the form of a one to three sentence summary of what the Facebook account user is doing or thinking at that moment.  To summarize my original research results, I studied the content of said status updates, scouring for patterns in the human psyche.  My original findings, which can be reviewed here, were met with critical acclaim.  The research was far from over, though.  For the subsequent months since the initial publication of my research, I have been diligently at it, continuing to uncover the best, and sometimes worst, of human tendencies, compulsions, and obsessions as shared by Facebook users themselves.  Remember that to be included as a summation of the human social psyche, the behavior had to be observed at least a dozen times.  Also, the exhibits with an asterisk next to them means that I have written a status update that has put me in that category. So on to Part 2 of Erin the Spy:


Exhibit M:  The Friend Whore -  These Facebook users have more friends than one person could ever possibly know in person, and their status feed's tell us daily the dozens of new people they have added to their online party.  It is also common for these people to let you know via status update that you have just made the cut of people to still be their friend, as they have just completed some unwanted-friend housekeeping by deleting those unfortunate enough to be, well, no longer friends with Exhibit M.  If you're like me, your first response is one of relief that you weren't dumped.  If you're like me, your second response is usually the question of when did WE last communicate, and therefore what did I do to deserve making the cut?

Exhibit N:  The Letter Writer (a)*- This person writes letters to inanimate forces or situations such as the weather, jobs or illnesses, and followed the lead of The Cure's "Friday I'm in Love":  "Dear Cold, please bother someone else" or "Sunshine, oh how I've missed you."  This is personification at its best.

Exhibit O:  The Letter Writer (b)* - This is the twin sister to The Letter Writer (a).  This person updates her status by writing letters to people we all know will never see or read the status update - her fetus, her baby, his congressman, his crazy neighbor. Often passive aggressiveness at its best.

Exhibit P:  The Romantic - She just cannot keep from telling us how much she loves her husband, how she can't wait for her husband to get home, how her husband is the best there ever was...I'm not talking about the special occasions like birthdays and anniversaries where you would naturally want to give a special shout-out, rather multiple times a week.  While these updates may come from a sincere and sweet place, those of us that are bitter and lonely can't help but wonder just what will happen when the honeymoon is over, what it is she is trying to hide from all of us - or better yet, what she is hiding from herself.

Exhibit Q:  The Ain't It The Truth'er* (*=I hope) - I know I can't help but liking this persons status updates because, honestly, he writes the funniest, most truthful moments-that-we-all-experience-but-nobody's-ever-vocalized-it-in-quite-that-way comments.  As long as he steers clear of discussing politics, religion, or bowel movements, this person will frequently be rewarded with many thumbs turned way up.

Exhibit R:  The Word Extenders - These people, in order to visually express an oral experience, extend words by adding extra consonants, or more frequently vowels, to add emphasis to a word; Puuuuuuulease; Longggggg day; heyyyyyyyyyy, and the ones I love to hate - Timeeeee and Loveeeeeeeeeee.  Unfortunately, they usually put the wrong emphASS-is on the wrong syl-Aaaahhble, and by adding extra E's to the end of words, they unwittingly change the pronunciation of the word entirely by changing them from silent vowels to ones very much with an attached sound...please tell me that you readers out there mentally pronounce loveeeeeeeee differently than loooooooove like I do.

Exhibit S:  The Tuck Ya In'ners- These people are on Facebook enough that they have taken it upon themselves to tell us all it is waaaaaaay (or should it be wayyyyyy?) past our bedtimes with a friendly, "Good night Facebook!"

Exhibit T:  The Baby Obsessed - Exhibit T is mad up mostly of my former students who are quite young and quite pregnant.  Simply being a mother does not make you part of this exhibit, and neither does being a specimen of Exhibit G (see previous study).  These girls (I hated it when I was called 'girl' at 18 and 19, but I'm old enough now that I've earned the right...besides the fact that I now know they actually still are girls) take pictures of themselves in bikini's  and booty shorts showing off their pregnant bellies, but usually are so little to begin with that it looks like they had a big meal and have done their best to fill their stomachs with air, pushing out with all their might.  They've also added fetus time counters and named their baby with designer first and middle name combo's and write her messages though she is only the size of a hair follicle.

Exhibit U:  The Got-Yer-Back'ers* - Submitted by Tasha.  These people got 'yer  back mostly because they are literally on it - they comment or 'like' your status updates within minutes or seconds of hitting "Share" which begs the question, why are they always on Facebook?

Exhibit V:  The Activist* - Politics is life.  This status updater will sometimes encroach on the territory of The Letter Writer (b) and even dabble in the Ain't It the Truther, but The Activist takes his comments to a whole new level.  His updates are often accompanied by links to online news articles and John Stewart's The Daily Show video clips.  WARNING:  Be careful to give The Activist a wide girth when commenting to the opposite persuasion. Unless, that is, you are ready and willing for a verbal lashing of the third degree!

Exhibit W:  The Epic Journaler - Submitted by Claudia.  These people give a running tally of everything they've done all day.  They aren't the same people that tell you about their bowel movements, but everything else is fair game.

Exhibit X:  The Busy Bee'ers - Between the second it takes us to read their update about how busy their day has been or how busy it's going to be, and the second we then question why the hell they are on Facebook if life is that chaotic, we have judged them.  Conclusions as to whether Exhibit W and Exhibit X are in fact part of the same genus, species, and kingdom are still underway.

Exhibit Y:  The Event Planners - They invite you - and by 'you' I mean all of us reading their update -  to stuff, tell you to meet them somewhere, or are bored and give a shoutout to whoever might want to get something going.  They always ask us to call them though, don't they?

Exhibit Z:  The It's So Cute You Think We Give a Damn'ers - Who to blame...cell phones or their owners?  These updaters tell us which restaurants or clinics or bars or airports they are at at that very second.  There is a convenient little link (so is it the GPS in some cell phones that does this? Is it automatically done?  Or does the updater have to manually like and link the location for it to then link it for all of us readers out there?) to the location so we can look it up for ourselves if we want. Also, there is more and more often a list of friends that they are there with.  I hope I don't sound too angry here - believe me, it is unintentional.  After all, if I'm going to spend gads of time reading the status updates of people I both see and haven't seen in years, people I talk to frequently and haven't had any contact with since I was 11 years old, I deserve any and all annoyances I get - it's Facebook!  It is the great time-sucker of the opening years of the 21st Century.  But as part of the greatest social experiment of all time, and as a newly self-licensed  sociologist cutting her teeth on the oblivious status posters out there, I am bound by moral obligation to stick with the facts.  And the fact is, frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.

And there you have it.  As I stated after the first half of my studies, this list is in no way comprehensive.  It is a living, breathing, evolving study, the completion of which I may never see in my lifetime.  That being said, I will ever be dedicated and vigilant in spying on and commenting about other people as I peruse the information they put on their Facebook accounts.

**No animals were harmed in the making of this post.  Hopefully no feelings were either.**

Erin the Spy

from blindgossip.com

When I was in fifth grade I read Harriet the Spy by Louise Fitzhugh.  I loved that book.  Harriet carried a notebook and wrote her observations of people, sometimes looking through windows, hiding in dumbwaiters, lurking outside of doorways...I carried a notebook around with me for DAYS, hoping I would find interesting things to write down.  Unfortunately, Harriet's intuition for finding interesting subjects to study and her snarky comments and ability to get out of hairy situations did not rub off on me like the book's concept did.  What I did pick up, though, was my love of observing people.  In recent years, the world's love of social networking sites, more specifically Facebook, has only fueled my passion.  Some may say they like to participate too, while others may call it stalking or spying.  However you look at it, I like to do it.

In the microcosm of my Facebook friendships, I have had an abundant opportunity to do some people watching - getting into their photos, seeing what things they 'like', and more importantly,  getting to read their status updates - one-line public journal entries, as I like to think of them.  In my roughly three years as a Facebooker, I have recently begun to categorize people based on what they choose to write in their status updates.  You may see yourself in my observations.  You may not.  I myself have participated in many of the status-update categories at least once (asterisked).  But in the social experiment that is Facebook, people's compulsive tendencies start to become apparent and as a spy and amateur social scientist, I must share what I have observed.  I do not claim that all or any of these categories are negative or positive, but I do claim that all of them have been observed at least a dozen times each.

Exhibit A - The Game Player:  We know them and sometimes hate them for clogging up our feed updates with their requests for help building a Farmville barn or invites to the party in Sorority Life.   And there seems to be no rhyme or reason as to who chooses to play at being a boss in Mob Wars or an undead in Vampire Wars.  Now help me earn a lead stake or you're dead.

Exhibit B* - The Mysteriously Vague:  These status updates are often only one word long, but rarely exceed three to keep the questions flying.  "Yipee," "Sad","Unleashed", "People suck" and "I dare you" are some examples that drive many people so deep into curiosity that they just have to ask about it.  Of course, while many of us have updated our status's like this, to be a member of Mysteriously Vague, you may NEVER respond with an explanation.  E-V-E-R.  "Hhmmmmm".

Exhibit C - The Lush:  This is the person who talks about wine or parties a lot and does so frequently enough in his/her updates that even though he/she may just really like wine or parties like I like a cold glass of milk, the frequency of her status updates containing something about wine or how often he has a hangover seems a little, well, tipsy toward a needed intervention.

Exhibit D* - The Vacationer:  The person who counts down daily  (or semi-weekly) to the estimated day of departure of the big trip.  Most of the people in this category don't take trips very often, so their excitement is understandable.  Others always seem to be going on a trip.  Then we just hate them.  And they don't let us forget that they always go on trips because they tell us what they are doing from their Blackberry or iPhone every day of the trip.  At least it save us all from having to ask how the trip actually was after the fact.

Exhibit E - The Self Promoter:  These are the graphic designers/musicians/comedians/home-based salespersons that take every chance they get to use our electronic friendship to sell their merch, which might just be themselves.

Exhibit F* - The Song Lyricist/Movie One-Liner:  These people consistently update status with a line from a song or movie. Quite a few rarely if ever tell us their own thoughts in their own words.  Similar to the Mysteriously Vague, as readers we are never sure whether the lyric reflects the mood of the writer or if those lyrics just spoke to the person and they felt the need to share.  Sometimes the lyrics or quote are so obscure or random that we're not sure how they could either speak to or reflect a person in any way - or leave you wondering if it's even a quote because these people rarely if ever use quotation marks.  But quote away, my "friend".  Quote away.

Exhibit G* - The Mother:  I know and love many of them.  They write about their kids.  Just don't ask me to change yet another dirty diaper by writing it online.  I will never say yes. (I participate by either writing about things my nephew and nieces say or do and by writing things my students do.  They're kind of like my children, right?)

Exhibit H - The Fitness Buff:  These people tell you how far and/or how long they worked out and what they did while doing it.  Unfortunately, we're all sitting down staring at a computer screen when these updaters are telling us about it.  Some of us* may have been sitting all day.

Exhibit I -  The Betrayed Friend:  By far my favorite updaters, these people are consistently updating their profiles (sometimes using song lyrics or quotes that have reached the point of cliche or pinnacle of cheesiness) about friends who are unloyal, aren't there to catch them when they fall, and not needing people like them who constantly bring them down.  What I want to know is how these people are such bad judges of character that they are repeatedly choosing such crappy friends?  And why do they never tell us the names of these crappy friends so we can look them up so we will be sure to not accept their friend request in the event that we get them?

Exhibit J - The Gourmet:  Today's menu?  Two English muffins, both with a lot of butter and a smear of strawberry preserves, two glasses of milk, a banana, a white peach, asparagus, a crappy leftover steak (that was also crappy when I made it), and some buttered garlic noodles.  Oh, and some buttered movie theater popcorn.  Will you be over with your family and hope I made enough?

Exhibit K* - The Quizer:  This type of behavior runs the risk of extinction.  It's habitat is being systematically destroyed by Gamers and, more recently, The Liker's, a new trend on the rise but until now little studied.  Closely related to the extremely endangered Pokers,  Superpokers, and Gifters.

Exhibit L - The You Will Be My Friend - These dangerous people don't get it when you don't accept their friend request.  Four times.  And they just keep asking.  Hope you never have a face to face confrontation with this person, because if you won't be friends with them on Facebook of all places, that is one reality-based conversation that may be awkward when they ask you why.  And they will ask you why.

This list is not comprehensive.  Then again, lists rarely are.  If there are any categories of Facebook users you have noticed (such as The Debbie Downers, The Inspirational Quoters and The Friend Whores) and would like to add to this list with a description, please feel free to do so in the comments section of this study.

Thank you for your feedback.

Here's Yer Sign

The glorious thing about cell phones is not the phone itself so much as the camera that you now always have on you in those random moments when you normally wouldn't have have one but would like to document a small corner of life. Here are a few ridiculous ones that needed sharing.

This little darling was on sale at Target. I guess now this company simply decided to name their off-brand version of Barbie Doll (and, by default, all others including the Matell staple) what she has become: a HO.

This was taken at Lupita's Mexican Restaurant just this evening. Hope, work and pray you are never so bad at your job that people try to warn the general public about you by creating their own blacklist.

This one is courtesy of Menard's, the Midwest's local version of Home Depot. Spelling does matter, folks. What is a 'peable' anyway?

One of my many guilty pleasures in life is a burger, fries, and Coke. A local Burger King drive-through window obligingly supplied me with some humorous reading material as I waited for the before-mentioned meal. They double check my order...why don't they double check their use of the English language? That is one thing I find VERY inconvience, King!

I hope to be able to continue with this series. Until next time, good evening.

If you have children -

- and I EVER catch you doing this to your child, in all seriousness I will reach through this computer screen and slap you upside yo' head!


The mother, who so proudly buys lacefront wigs for her baby girl, is quoted as saying, “It’s never too early for my baby to start looking glamorous like Beyonce!”

I'm warning you...

When in doubt, make a flow chart.

Kids do the darndest things!

Over the years there have been many hilarious blurtations that have taken place in my class periods. I am forgetting many of the things that have had me laughing for days. In an effort to preserve the events, pranks, and blurts of my students (and since this week added a new "funny" to the list), here is a post that is dedicated to some of them:

- Coming into my classroom after lunch and all the desks are facing the back of the classroom.

- Coming into class after lunch and finding all of the desks, my chair, my keyboard, and everything else on my desk tipped upside down.

- Coming into my class after lunch and finding all of my dry erase markers, pencils, stapler, and mini-Brett Favre bobble head (pre double retirement) taped to the ceiling. Tape is also across each line of keys on the keyboard, as well as covering the bottom of my mouse and covering the opening of the tissue box.

- A dead silent classroom. A 170 point final test over a novel. A sudden outburst of laughter. Everyone looks to Tara, this year's resident Sassy Spice, and I ask a simple "What?"

"'Circle the correct answer.' Like we'd circle the wrong answer."

You'd be surprised, Tara. Very very surprised.

- A student teacher places an engagement photographs on the overhead, demonstrating various points about how photography can be symbolic. In the photo, the groom-to-be is holding the bride-to-be. We see only his back as he looks across a lake to the mountains in the distance. She looks back at the camera - and us. Student teacher: "Him holder her is symbolic of his feelings for her - that he will always take care of her." Trajan: "If he doesn't take care of her, I sure will!"

- "Ms. Hensel, I know that people from Canada are Canadians, and people from Mexico are Mexican, but what are people from the United States called?"

- I pull the overhead plug out of the outlet and the grounder post is still in the socket. Despite my students telling me that there is no charge going to the grounder post and that I can just pull it out, I step to the phone to call Fernlee, the head maintenance worker - No one is getting electrocuted on my watch! I turn back toward the class just as Dylan is on the floor, fingers pulling at the grounder post, convulsing. I scream and and instantly start crying as I watch what I think is a 14 year old being electrocuted. Seconds later he falls to the floor laughing at me, along with the rest of the class.

- Opening my desk drawer after school to grab a pencil and almost grabbing a tarantula that had been lovingly placed there by a student. The tarantula was dead. I didn't know that.

- The homecoming football game, 2007, just happens to fall on my birthday. My friend and co-worker Wayne Decker finds out and has it announced over the announcements that morning. As I leave the football game later that night and pass the student section, the entire student body sings "Happy Birthday" to me. I may or may not have started crying.

- I'm on the phone in my classroom after school talking to the oral surgeon about the upcoming procedure I will be having. Three male students stop by after baseball practice to say hello. Just as I am asking about the implants I will be getting. DENTAL implants. They didn't hear the 'dental' part.

- Realizing that one of my students is the nephew of a guy I was madly crazy for in college, and while trying to give him some 'dirt' on my former crush without letting on that he was indeed a crush, unintentionally slipping too much info.

Me: "Tell him that I found out that he made out with my sister!"

Jace: "Wait. Why do you care if he made out with your sister? Did you kiss him?"

Me: Silence. Instant blushing. what do i do. WHAT DO I DO????

Jace: "OH MY GOSH!!! YOU MADE OUT WITH DIGGER" (notice how he has already exaggerated the information).

Me: "No! Wait...!"

Jace: "I can't WAIT to ask him about it! I can't believe you were almost my aunt. You were almost my AUNT!!! That's SO COOL!"

- I have a date on a weeknight. We will be heading up the mountain to go four-wheeling. I stop at his place of employment, which is on 'Burger Alley' in town, to change. Three students see me and do the natural thing: they park behind me and wait. But I don't come out wearing the same clothes. I don't come out alone. And I don't leave in my car. As we are waiting to back onto busy 200 N, I see three heads ducking up and down behind the dashboard of a pickup truck. Seconds later I recognize one of them, and then all three of them. They hang out of the truck window laughing at me and pointing as my date and I pull away. The next day, and just about every day for the next TWO years (no joke) I get asked about George. It doesn't help that he comes to school with a bouquet of flowers a few months later during class (which happened to have one of the original three in it) to embarrass me because I told him about it. The date was five years ago. I still get asked when I see those now graduated students.

- MaKenna stands to present her project on the black plague at the end of our Shakespeare unit but holds it close to her chest until the very end. When she finally shows it to us, there are two live mice (primary culprit in spreading the black death) in a shadow box. She finishes and sits down. 10 minutes later, she looks down to see one of the mice squeezing out between the 'breathing' gap she leaves for them. The other one is gone. We did eventually catch it. Eventually.

I'm sure I'll remember more. I'm thinking of some already, but I need to pack for my holiday travels bright and early in the morning and haven't started yet. I hope my trip down memory lane was entertaining (especially for you, Michelle!). Merry Christmas everyone!

You may want to think twice before wearing the color purple any time soon.

There is a long time saying in Green Bay that the G on the Packer helmet stands for "God's Team." There is a more recent saying (among other things) in Green Bay that Brett Favre is a lousy, stinkin' traitor for signing yesterday with the mortal enemies, the Minnesota Vikings, of the Pack.
There was a tornado outside of Minneapolis today.
Lesson: Don't mess with God's Team.

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...

Finding love in the City of Lights and beyond

Before going to Spain, my brother-in-law warned me about Spanish men and how forward they are. Boy, was he right! I guess I could say that about France as well. Two of the girls on the trip were hit on multiple times in France (see exhibit A): stared at, given phone numbers, invitations to various rendezvous by the river...

In Spain, if a guy thinks you're cute, he stares you in the eye and smiles (and dosn't have to have his buddies with him for moral support). You may think it is just your mind playing tricks on you, but after looking away and looking back, he is still there with that smile. He may even go so far as to turn around and follow you, lean out of his car to say something to you, or walk past you - while staring, of course - a half dozen times. Of course, since this behavior is not entirely normal in the US outside of a bar setting after a few drinks to make him bold, if a girl is interested, say, but is a little on the shy side, she may not know what the correct response to him is, because this is not within her realm of experience. Of course, she may find the young man - or not so young man - a little creepy and hopes that if she avoids eye contact he will go away. OR she thinks he is hitting on her, but maybe he is just trying to pickpocket her.
Why does love have to be so hard?

I Have Returned!

As my friend Erin mentioned previously, I, Tweets the passport cover, have returned from my whirlwind European vacation! I had a lot of fun, met some interesting people, and saw some amazing things. Here is a tiny part of what I saw of this very big world!

Seeing as I had never been out of Utah, I must give a shoutout to all of the time I spent in airports, Chicago O'Hare to be specific. I spent more time here then at any other stop I made. Flying is fun, but it sure isn't for Erin because she is a lot bigger than I am...that is, unless she is sitting next to interesting Parisian and German men on the international portions of the flights. But I'll let her tell you about that herself.

After a very long day of travel, I finally made it on to French soil. I wasn't jet-lagged at all (whatever that means, anyway) and couldn't believe I was finally here!

I saw many beautiful cathedrals and basilicas. The one called Notre Dame was particularly interesting because the first day I went to see it was the day of the memorial for the Air France plane that disappeared (which also happened on the same day I arrived). I saw a lot of Air France employees, the four buses full of family memebers of the victims, and President Sarkozy's motorcade. I also got to hear the beautiful singing coming from inside the cathedral during the service. I think Erin got a little video of it, and I'll remind her to post it later.

What's a visit to Paris without stopping to see this bad boy?! It's just like the pictures and it can be seen from many spots in Paris. The next time I see it, though, I hope I have my very own special tweety bird with me because it is very romantical.

People sure were making a big deal about this painting! I thought it would be bigger than it really was, but I'm just a passport cover so what do I know!

I saw a lot of art on this trip, mostly in Paris. My favorite parts of the Louvre were the sculptures - hundreds of them! But my favorite museum was the Orsay, which focused predominately on the Impressionist movement - Monet, Manet, Pissarro, Degas, Sissley, Renior, Van Gogh, Cassatt, and Cezanne (among others). I had only one hour in the Prado, so Erin did a lot of running me to on painting to another and no pictures were allowed...not that I had time to stop an take one anyway!

I wasn't sure what to expect in Spain, to be honest. But my favorite parts were probably the midieval walled towns. This one is above Toledo, one of the prettiest things I have ever seen.

Those Spaniards sure know how to build a Royal Palace. This one in Madrid has over 2,800 rooms! I only saw about 30 of them, and I was truly amazed.

Barcelona had a lot of interesting architecture next to a lot of shabby architecture. Sorry to anyone who is a lover of this city, but this chicken was not sad to fly this coop. It wasn't all bad, and in fact I saw some pretty cool things, but for the most "cosmopolitan" city (as one Spaniard told Erin pre-trip) in Spain, I was left hoping for more.

And what kind of twit of a passport cover would I be if I didn't mention the Mediterranean Sea and the costal towns that reside there. Erin was a putz and forgot her swimsuit in her suitcase which was packed on the bus, but it was still enjoyable to sit with the breeze blowing through my fabric while Erin soaked her feet and collected sea glass and burned her nose...man, am I glad I don't have one of those!

Of course, all good vacations must come to an end. I am already missing France and Spain and hope to return someday, but I am happy to be sleeping in Erin's own bed again. I guess there truly is no place like home!