Well, it's after Labor Day aka summer is over.
I just answered the phone at the office and one of my dad's more animated clients (I seriously think she plans an opening monologue to unleash as soon as I finish saying "Good Morning"), actually made a startling comment about the upcoming election and the dire need for jobs. She said something along the lines of how I am lucky to have a job when so many college kids come out with nothing. She's right. And for a moment, I felt content and happy with where I am. And then, I panicked. Mostly because I can't seem to find a job anywhere else. My resume is continually rejected without the common courtesy of a reply that the company even RECEIVED it. Yeah. Insert a "McCayla is NOT impressed" stand here.
-_-
In other news, I watched Mean Girls last night and my mom informed me that Jack finally had a sex ed class and he said that he knew everything they were talking about because he learned it from Mean Girls. He then continued on to spell Chlamydia - K-L-A. I laughed, of course. Texted Mike, who apparently broke out into peals of laughter in front of a group of random people on his way to pump some iron at the UConn gym. It's the little things sometimes.
And I FINALLY went to the doctor for my earaches.
Swimmer's Ear. Because I'm SUCH an avid and talented swimmer. NOT.
I somehow contracted it and I wasn't sure how. Then, lightbulb! When I am on the treadmill, everyone knows how I sweat more than your over-sized elephant in the desert. The result is that I often get pools of nasty sweat in my ears. It drips in behind my headphones, which I always wear to keep myself from dying of boredom. Bingo - Swimmer's Ear du jour. So, now I have these alcohol drops that I have to put in both ears every few hours. My life sometimes.
I have nothing else to say.
The Giants are playing tonight. My fall ritual of being glued to the television and cheering for my G-Men has resumed. I'm not complaining about the endless hours of television or commercials I shall screen.
GO GIANTS!!
Oh and I'm going back up to Otis with Jack on Friday. We're just perpetuating the inevitable end of summer. But really.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Summer is drawing to a close...or is closed
So here I am, just another day at work. My vacation was last week and I think I need a vacation from my vacation. How cliche. But what is bugging me today is the fact that all the grammar and high schoolers are returning to their brick buildings of higher learning and for the first year ever, I am without the smell and feel of new school supplies or new clothes.I mean, I bought a bra on sale from Aerie last night and some new Nike running shorts, but those don't really count. Gone are the days of searching for those just barely allowed khaki pants for Holy Cross that didn't look hideous. Or finding a sweater that allowed you to wear a polo instead of a button down every day of the school year. Or skirts that were short, but just to your fingertips so when you were pulled into the principal's office you could yank them down and get away with it. No more jiggling locks on the yellow and green lockers or the smell of somewhat new text books that gave me a strong impression of Lysol and mold. No more after school rush to change into running clothes or get down to practice. And then sit and complain about running.
This is the big girl world. You go to work. Try not to be too exhausted or get too awful of a headache and then go for a run, go to sleep, sometimes to laundry. Lather, rinse, repeat.
So, instead of continuing to reminisce, I feel like I should talk about my vacation.
Spent it in Otis.
But I went to Agawam to horseback ride. Then to Greenfield to finally see Bandit. He was as cantankerous as ever. He gave me a moment of ears forward, "hey, I think I remember you!" Then I touched his ear and he was angry/goofball Bandit again. Paul actually came with me and took pictures. He really liked this GIANT mare across from Bandit and then made friends with a gargantuan paint. The paint tried to bite his ankle under the fence. He was a feisty one. But seeing Bandit was fantastic. He had his own little paddock and he looked healthy.m They had him barefoot too, which was interesting. Gave him a hug and e-mailed the instructor again. I might try to get up there for a lesson at some point.
And the horseback ride in Agawam that Paul's mom bought was I think two Fridays ago. I rode this children's show pony named Spike. He was so tiny, but he definitely had spunk. I cantered him around the sides of the cornfields and Holly, the owner, let me jump him over some cross-rails when we got back to the stable. The first one, he did exactly what Bandit used to do. Ran up to it easily enough, then spooked and tried to stop in front, popped it, and then tried to run away. I stayed on, but was definitely rusty. Lost a stirrup. Grr. So I turned him around and went over a little cross rail line. No problems this time. We cantered to the second one actually. He was a little pistol though. Holly was like, "He would love you for a summer!" Yeahhh...not sure about that. He was ADORABLE. But I went through the whole "Who's the Boss" thing with Bandit and him spooking to get out of work. Not sure I want to do that again right away. Although who am I kidding?!? I loved every second of it. And I wasn't scared. The barn was absolutely beautiful. It was called Equine Boulevard and the owner knows Sarah from Frazier. Small world. If anything, the whole Friday horse experience cemented that I need to get back into it ASAP. I wish I had more money saved up or more time to work at a stable and pay for a few lessons.
Oh well...
In lake news, I got to do a little skiing and wakesurfing. The Mark Twain is in instead of the Malibu because it can fit in the low water. I just can't believe it's Labor Day this weekend. Next weekend is going to seem so quiet and dull. BUT...I'm considering doing the Rochester half marathon. I just wish I had someone to run it with me!! Any takers?!?!
I went for a 9 mile twilight run in Otis Sunday night and the weather was perfect for it. Made me think that I could still handle the half. We'll see. I need to do some thinking. The entry fee is 65.00. I'd hate to spend that if I'm really not ready for it.
PICTURES!!!!!!!
This is the big girl world. You go to work. Try not to be too exhausted or get too awful of a headache and then go for a run, go to sleep, sometimes to laundry. Lather, rinse, repeat.
So, instead of continuing to reminisce, I feel like I should talk about my vacation.
Spent it in Otis.
But I went to Agawam to horseback ride. Then to Greenfield to finally see Bandit. He was as cantankerous as ever. He gave me a moment of ears forward, "hey, I think I remember you!" Then I touched his ear and he was angry/goofball Bandit again. Paul actually came with me and took pictures. He really liked this GIANT mare across from Bandit and then made friends with a gargantuan paint. The paint tried to bite his ankle under the fence. He was a feisty one. But seeing Bandit was fantastic. He had his own little paddock and he looked healthy.m They had him barefoot too, which was interesting. Gave him a hug and e-mailed the instructor again. I might try to get up there for a lesson at some point.
And the horseback ride in Agawam that Paul's mom bought was I think two Fridays ago. I rode this children's show pony named Spike. He was so tiny, but he definitely had spunk. I cantered him around the sides of the cornfields and Holly, the owner, let me jump him over some cross-rails when we got back to the stable. The first one, he did exactly what Bandit used to do. Ran up to it easily enough, then spooked and tried to stop in front, popped it, and then tried to run away. I stayed on, but was definitely rusty. Lost a stirrup. Grr. So I turned him around and went over a little cross rail line. No problems this time. We cantered to the second one actually. He was a little pistol though. Holly was like, "He would love you for a summer!" Yeahhh...not sure about that. He was ADORABLE. But I went through the whole "Who's the Boss" thing with Bandit and him spooking to get out of work. Not sure I want to do that again right away. Although who am I kidding?!? I loved every second of it. And I wasn't scared. The barn was absolutely beautiful. It was called Equine Boulevard and the owner knows Sarah from Frazier. Small world. If anything, the whole Friday horse experience cemented that I need to get back into it ASAP. I wish I had more money saved up or more time to work at a stable and pay for a few lessons.
Oh well...
In lake news, I got to do a little skiing and wakesurfing. The Mark Twain is in instead of the Malibu because it can fit in the low water. I just can't believe it's Labor Day this weekend. Next weekend is going to seem so quiet and dull. BUT...I'm considering doing the Rochester half marathon. I just wish I had someone to run it with me!! Any takers?!?!
I went for a 9 mile twilight run in Otis Sunday night and the weather was perfect for it. Made me think that I could still handle the half. We'll see. I need to do some thinking. The entry fee is 65.00. I'd hate to spend that if I'm really not ready for it.
PICTURES!!!!!!!
Still argues with me hahaha
Reunited!!!
Paul's favorite mare
Barefooting!
Wakeboarding casualty
Jack learned to barefoot
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
The day has arrived! Sort of
I'm posting a very brief blurb today because I'm just really, really excited.
I'M GOING TO SEE BANDIT NEXT WEEK!!!!!!!!!!
I contacted Stoneleigh Burnham and Bandit is still there :) The girl that replied, Stacy, said she had actually JUST used him in a lesson yesterday and I was welcome to visit during any daytime hours. I was just so relieved to hear he was behaving and in a good home. I'll maybe ask them, if they ever want to get rid of him, to contact me first because I would buy him back. He's about 16 now. Old man. And he had a lot of white so I can't wait to see him now. I'm just really excited.
And, I'm going riding on Friday at a place in Agawam. I"m praying they have English saddles and I'll maybe get to tool around a little. I already brought my boots, chaps, and riding pants up to the lake. So yeah. Maybe seeing Bandit Sunday?
:) :) :)
I'M GOING TO SEE BANDIT NEXT WEEK!!!!!!!!!!
I contacted Stoneleigh Burnham and Bandit is still there :) The girl that replied, Stacy, said she had actually JUST used him in a lesson yesterday and I was welcome to visit during any daytime hours. I was just so relieved to hear he was behaving and in a good home. I'll maybe ask them, if they ever want to get rid of him, to contact me first because I would buy him back. He's about 16 now. Old man. And he had a lot of white so I can't wait to see him now. I'm just really excited.
And, I'm going riding on Friday at a place in Agawam. I"m praying they have English saddles and I'll maybe get to tool around a little. I already brought my boots, chaps, and riding pants up to the lake. So yeah. Maybe seeing Bandit Sunday?
:) :) :)
Thursday, August 9, 2012
The riding itch...and Bandit
So recently, I've had a major horseback riding itch/fever/whatever you would like to call it. I was looking through some old pictures and came to the conclusion that it's something I really cannot live without anymore. Sure, the running thing was great for a while. I'll still run. It's something that's become embedded in me. But I really miss the horses.
I miss getting up on summer mornings and driving out to the barn and seeing all the hay and dust particles floating in the early morning light. I miss the sounds of the horses snuffling in their hay and banging their feed buckets against the wall.
Most of all, I miss Bandit.
Bandit was unique, to say the least. My Dad loved to pat him really hard right in the center flat area of his head. That was their bonding, I guess. But Bandit was more to me than Dad's giant dog. He had his quirks. We always laughed about how he ate. You dumped his oats in and he would swing the bucket around on the wall eventually flipping it upside down and spilling his grain all over the dirt floor. He would then have to spend time nibbling around to get them up, probably ingesting more sand than anything. Dummy. He also picked fights that he couldn't finish. I'll never forget my just over 15hh horse starting a fight in the geldings' paddock. He picked on the bigger guys, of course. And after they got sick of his nipping and butt sniffing, they would chase him around the paddock as fast as his short little legs would go. This winter day, he actually jumped the over 5 foot fence that kept them in the paddock. In a thick winter blanket. He escaped unscathed and did NOT learn his lesson. He was perpetually covered in scrapes and "ouchies". Bandit loved Fritos. Hence his nickname - Frito Bandito. He also liked Turkey Sandwiches and Starburst. I learned this when my lunch was mysteriously missing from my tack box and he was munching away.
My mom always called the horses our Barbie dolls for the girls that never actually played with dolls. We would dye Tinkerbelle's mane and tail with food coloring. Sometimes blue or pink or purple...or all the colors we had. We spent afternoons just braiding tails or grooming until each coat shone. I told my friends on the high school track team that I learned how to french braid on my horse's ass. My mom was mortified. I don't remember how to braid anymore as I haven't had to in nearly 6 years. Another thing I miss.
I even miss the days of cleaning sheaths and being utterly embarrassed when your relatives surprise you with a visit at the barn. Rachael and I decided to be responsible riders and clean our horses'...man-parts. I had found a print out online that was helpful, although managing to be more humorous than anything. It was titled Mr. Hand. I actually found it again to post here:
Mr. Hand
So, we got our buckets of warm water and our slimy green Excalibur gel. I won't describe the process. You can click the link if you're really THAT curious. I will say that Bandit was NOT impressed nor pleased. So I'm pretty much mid way up my arm reaching under the brat when Aunt Pinky and Aunt Ginny roll up, all excited to see me and my beloved chestnut pony. Yeah. Pretty sure the first words were, "ADDIE! What are you doing?!" And they got back in the car to wait as I cleaned up the supplies and I'm pretty sure Rachael laughed off to the side. Never attempted THAT again.
All kidding aside, Bandit and I have great memories together. Our first event and show. Jumping over 3 feet and feeling like we were flying. Trail rides with our friends, sometimes to Poppey's to get ice-cream.
I miss everything about that booger. He would throw me into fences and drag me over telephone poles, but in the end, we got through all that. We got through his head shy issues and taught each other to be brave. Most of the time, I had to be fake brave and yell so he would just do it. Silly. But I learned to be real brave after a while. I miss how strong he made me feel.
I watch the Olympics now and I find it foolish for people to say "The horse should get the medal. The horse does all the work". It's a partnership. I'd like to see a horse get through those courses alone. The riders need to know what to do both mentally and physically. They are reading these 1,200 pounds animals and sending them flying through the air at the flick of a rein.
That's what I miss.
I miss getting up on summer mornings and driving out to the barn and seeing all the hay and dust particles floating in the early morning light. I miss the sounds of the horses snuffling in their hay and banging their feed buckets against the wall.
Most of all, I miss Bandit.
Bandit was unique, to say the least. My Dad loved to pat him really hard right in the center flat area of his head. That was their bonding, I guess. But Bandit was more to me than Dad's giant dog. He had his quirks. We always laughed about how he ate. You dumped his oats in and he would swing the bucket around on the wall eventually flipping it upside down and spilling his grain all over the dirt floor. He would then have to spend time nibbling around to get them up, probably ingesting more sand than anything. Dummy. He also picked fights that he couldn't finish. I'll never forget my just over 15hh horse starting a fight in the geldings' paddock. He picked on the bigger guys, of course. And after they got sick of his nipping and butt sniffing, they would chase him around the paddock as fast as his short little legs would go. This winter day, he actually jumped the over 5 foot fence that kept them in the paddock. In a thick winter blanket. He escaped unscathed and did NOT learn his lesson. He was perpetually covered in scrapes and "ouchies". Bandit loved Fritos. Hence his nickname - Frito Bandito. He also liked Turkey Sandwiches and Starburst. I learned this when my lunch was mysteriously missing from my tack box and he was munching away.
My mom always called the horses our Barbie dolls for the girls that never actually played with dolls. We would dye Tinkerbelle's mane and tail with food coloring. Sometimes blue or pink or purple...or all the colors we had. We spent afternoons just braiding tails or grooming until each coat shone. I told my friends on the high school track team that I learned how to french braid on my horse's ass. My mom was mortified. I don't remember how to braid anymore as I haven't had to in nearly 6 years. Another thing I miss.
I even miss the days of cleaning sheaths and being utterly embarrassed when your relatives surprise you with a visit at the barn. Rachael and I decided to be responsible riders and clean our horses'...man-parts. I had found a print out online that was helpful, although managing to be more humorous than anything. It was titled Mr. Hand. I actually found it again to post here:
Mr. Hand
So, we got our buckets of warm water and our slimy green Excalibur gel. I won't describe the process. You can click the link if you're really THAT curious. I will say that Bandit was NOT impressed nor pleased. So I'm pretty much mid way up my arm reaching under the brat when Aunt Pinky and Aunt Ginny roll up, all excited to see me and my beloved chestnut pony. Yeah. Pretty sure the first words were, "ADDIE! What are you doing?!" And they got back in the car to wait as I cleaned up the supplies and I'm pretty sure Rachael laughed off to the side. Never attempted THAT again.
All kidding aside, Bandit and I have great memories together. Our first event and show. Jumping over 3 feet and feeling like we were flying. Trail rides with our friends, sometimes to Poppey's to get ice-cream.
I miss everything about that booger. He would throw me into fences and drag me over telephone poles, but in the end, we got through all that. We got through his head shy issues and taught each other to be brave. Most of the time, I had to be fake brave and yell so he would just do it. Silly. But I learned to be real brave after a while. I miss how strong he made me feel.
I watch the Olympics now and I find it foolish for people to say "The horse should get the medal. The horse does all the work". It's a partnership. I'd like to see a horse get through those courses alone. The riders need to know what to do both mentally and physically. They are reading these 1,200 pounds animals and sending them flying through the air at the flick of a rein.
That's what I miss.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
A Running post...what do ya know?
So this summer has been a little hairy with running. I'll be the first to admit how much I DESPISE the heat and humidity. So, unless I'm in Otis, I've been on the treadmill 3-4 days a week and then outside on dirt roads the rest. So half and half. But I've been running pretty much every day.
Paul went with me for a few runs in June. I really thought he was getting into the sport again. He pulled his Vibrams on and met me at the corner of the dirt roads, right above the beach. We took off at a casual jaunt. Then we hit the hill on Curtiss Hall. Oh my God. I always forget about this hill. I tried to keep talking and felt like I had a thick wad of cotton in my mouth. We stretched at the corner of Westerly, our turn to head home. Paul did not seem as thrilled about this run as he had when we first started out. I think he made it to the end of Brookman with me before telling me to just go as Moreau Hill loomed ahead of us. That was the last run he went on with me. Now he rides the Solo Wheel, occasionally. I guess that's what all the cool kids do now. Guess I'm not cool for resorting to my own two feet and dirty running shoes. But whatever. My runs are alone now. And I have to say, there's something that goes on during those runs that I wouldn't trade in or change. I see these houses and roads every summer, nearly every day, and they never get boring. I look at them and wonder what their families are like. How do they spend their summer days on the lake? How long have they been there? I know it's weird, but it makes the time pass. Then there are the days when I go way too fast because I see or hear something moving in the woods and my brain immediately reverts to - MOUNTAIN LION! BEAR! GO HOME! Yeah. Not cool. I know I could never out run either. And honestly, I have no tactic if I come across one.
Recently, Land's End has installed (I think that's the proper word here) plastic, yellow speed bumps. These things must be only about 4 inches high and they're two separate little strips that barely reach across the entire road. The first morning I saw them I was like, WHAT?!?!?! And proceeded to jump over them and make a big deal about it. Hey, I run this road every day. Gotta spice it up a little bit. I'm pretty sure these speed bumps are useless other than to be a great tripping device when I'm extremely tired. So, to you Land's End, CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. I can just imagine the homeowners sitting, eating their lovely muffins and drinking their strong coffee, and laughing at the dirty, sweaty runner girl that's trying to "hurdle" these mini speed bumps. Oh well. I guess everyone could use a laugh now or then. I say all this now, but lately, I've been so tired that no hurdling has occurred. I've either stepped over or around them while secretly hoping a huge truck comes blasting through and crushes them to bits or twists and warps them onto the side of the road. They. Are. Pointless.
I'm waiting to see them in my neighborhood next.
In other news, I went for a jetski ride once the weather cleared last weekend. (Can we just discuss how MISERABLE sitting in the house for three days straight trying to watch the Olympics on a poor satellite signal was? Stupid Rain. And our phone got struck by lightning). I drove around the whole lake pretty relaxed and just looked around. I stopped by Overflow and it just made me think of how times and places seem changed. I miss where I was last summer, what I was doing. There are certain things I don't want back. (Marist, thanks for the four years, I DO NOT want to re-live you. Hands are clean. Champagna preseasons were probably the bane of my existence). But last year had this quality to it. The people I saw every day and what I did...it all just felt so much more lively. Now I drive around and see all these For Sale signs and the Marina's garage doors were closed tight. Everything seemed shrunken and tiny. And then when I run, everything seems too big. I can't find a medium.
So, before I'm done, I also want to complain about the Olympics. They didn't show ANY of the Equestrian. And the Cross-Country jumping is pretty exciting. At least 8 horses went down over these jumps and the queen's GRANDDAUGHTER was one of the riders. The ENTIRE royal family was in attendance and NBC felt the need to show fencing and Men's INDOOR VOLLEYBALL. What is this world coming to?! If they cut the Track coverage, I will seriously feel the need to write a scathing letter. Maybe J.K. Rowling can lend me a Howler that will explode and hiss at them if they don't open it. So much for more equal coverage NBC. I'm sick of seeing just swimming, gymnastics, volleyball. Either spread it out better between your channels, or cut down on some of the time on certain events. I did not need to see an entire volleyball game. Whatever. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one upset about this. Most people don't think horseback riding is a sport. (But ping pong and Badminton are?!) I'm sorry but you have to be pretty strong to get a 1,200 pounds or more animal to listen to you and jump over 4+ foot high obstacles.
Rant done.
Got a weekend of speed bump hopping ahead of me.
Paul went with me for a few runs in June. I really thought he was getting into the sport again. He pulled his Vibrams on and met me at the corner of the dirt roads, right above the beach. We took off at a casual jaunt. Then we hit the hill on Curtiss Hall. Oh my God. I always forget about this hill. I tried to keep talking and felt like I had a thick wad of cotton in my mouth. We stretched at the corner of Westerly, our turn to head home. Paul did not seem as thrilled about this run as he had when we first started out. I think he made it to the end of Brookman with me before telling me to just go as Moreau Hill loomed ahead of us. That was the last run he went on with me. Now he rides the Solo Wheel, occasionally. I guess that's what all the cool kids do now. Guess I'm not cool for resorting to my own two feet and dirty running shoes. But whatever. My runs are alone now. And I have to say, there's something that goes on during those runs that I wouldn't trade in or change. I see these houses and roads every summer, nearly every day, and they never get boring. I look at them and wonder what their families are like. How do they spend their summer days on the lake? How long have they been there? I know it's weird, but it makes the time pass. Then there are the days when I go way too fast because I see or hear something moving in the woods and my brain immediately reverts to - MOUNTAIN LION! BEAR! GO HOME! Yeah. Not cool. I know I could never out run either. And honestly, I have no tactic if I come across one.
Recently, Land's End has installed (I think that's the proper word here) plastic, yellow speed bumps. These things must be only about 4 inches high and they're two separate little strips that barely reach across the entire road. The first morning I saw them I was like, WHAT?!?!?! And proceeded to jump over them and make a big deal about it. Hey, I run this road every day. Gotta spice it up a little bit. I'm pretty sure these speed bumps are useless other than to be a great tripping device when I'm extremely tired. So, to you Land's End, CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. I can just imagine the homeowners sitting, eating their lovely muffins and drinking their strong coffee, and laughing at the dirty, sweaty runner girl that's trying to "hurdle" these mini speed bumps. Oh well. I guess everyone could use a laugh now or then. I say all this now, but lately, I've been so tired that no hurdling has occurred. I've either stepped over or around them while secretly hoping a huge truck comes blasting through and crushes them to bits or twists and warps them onto the side of the road. They. Are. Pointless.
I'm waiting to see them in my neighborhood next.
In other news, I went for a jetski ride once the weather cleared last weekend. (Can we just discuss how MISERABLE sitting in the house for three days straight trying to watch the Olympics on a poor satellite signal was? Stupid Rain. And our phone got struck by lightning). I drove around the whole lake pretty relaxed and just looked around. I stopped by Overflow and it just made me think of how times and places seem changed. I miss where I was last summer, what I was doing. There are certain things I don't want back. (Marist, thanks for the four years, I DO NOT want to re-live you. Hands are clean. Champagna preseasons were probably the bane of my existence). But last year had this quality to it. The people I saw every day and what I did...it all just felt so much more lively. Now I drive around and see all these For Sale signs and the Marina's garage doors were closed tight. Everything seemed shrunken and tiny. And then when I run, everything seems too big. I can't find a medium.
So, before I'm done, I also want to complain about the Olympics. They didn't show ANY of the Equestrian. And the Cross-Country jumping is pretty exciting. At least 8 horses went down over these jumps and the queen's GRANDDAUGHTER was one of the riders. The ENTIRE royal family was in attendance and NBC felt the need to show fencing and Men's INDOOR VOLLEYBALL. What is this world coming to?! If they cut the Track coverage, I will seriously feel the need to write a scathing letter. Maybe J.K. Rowling can lend me a Howler that will explode and hiss at them if they don't open it. So much for more equal coverage NBC. I'm sick of seeing just swimming, gymnastics, volleyball. Either spread it out better between your channels, or cut down on some of the time on certain events. I did not need to see an entire volleyball game. Whatever. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one upset about this. Most people don't think horseback riding is a sport. (But ping pong and Badminton are?!) I'm sorry but you have to be pretty strong to get a 1,200 pounds or more animal to listen to you and jump over 4+ foot high obstacles.
Rant done.
Got a weekend of speed bump hopping ahead of me.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Speech impediments and foreign language abilities
So this morning I had a rather large, ugly black carpenter ant crawl over my foot in the bathroom. After flicking it off and unceremoniously flushing him/her down the toilet, I thought back to one of my family's favorite Jack stories.
Jack is my younger, 13-year-old brother. He's the youngest in the family, but I am 8 years older than him and Mike is 6 years older. So this means that all of Jack's hilarious moments have been remembered and recalled many times.
Jack had a slight speech impediment as a little kid. So one day, he had to be around 2 or 3 years old, he was playing trucks in our den when he saw my Dad crouch down by the patio door with a box of weird traps. He butt scooted over, because at this point in Jack's life, this was how he got around if he didn't feel like getting up. He peered over my Dad's arms and chugged away on his binkie before taking it out of his mouth and looking around for me and my mom. We were both watching my Dad and Jack cracked a smile and remembered that Mom had asked my Dad to set up the ant traps earlier in the day. So Jack, displaying his wonderful memory, happily yells, "Mommy! Daddy's settin' up ant craps!" Well, Michael thought this was hilarious. He told everyone.
This story, however, pales in comparison to the great vanilla debate. My cousins were great fans of this story. Jack, still with his speech impediment, had trouble with his 1's. They sounded more like r's to the close listener. So VANILLA sounded much more like VANEERA. Well, Lauren, Steve, and Allison loved to imitate Jack and say VANEERA every chance they got. Jack was not impressed, mainly because they couldn't seem to say it right. So, when Mom asked who wanted some Vanilla ice-cream with their cake at one family party, all my cousins piped up that they would like some VANEERA. Jack was mad: "It's not VANIRA, it's VANEERA!" Yup. Apparently even a speech impediment has a correct pronunciation. Or he could have possibly been trying to really say Vanilla and just couldn't. Poor guy. Fast forward to about a month ago - June 2012. Lauren is on her honeymoon in Tahiti. I receive a picture and text from her. The picture is of Tahitian Vanilla beans, or, in Tahiti -Hira Vanira. As Lauren laughed, she said that Jack didn't have a speech impediment after all! He was speaking Tahitian! hahaha. It just added to the multilingualism in our family. Michael used to sing a Japanese version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town, but it somehow ended with a mais oui...French. Yeah. And then...I have one more story involving myself. Of course.
My Nonna and Poppa had a neighbor, Marie. She was very Italian. She was also very traditional in how she dressed and looked. Little scary to a young kid, especially a 2 or 3 year old, because her appearance was a little rough. She was the sweetest lady though. Always offered me some watermelon (maybe that's why I love it so much now!) and would sit at my Nonna's outdoor glass table and jabber in Italian. Well, I never enjoyed being left out of conversations. I still don't. So I walked on over and stared up at Marie as she spoke to Nonna. She looked down at me and I voiced my opinion in a great slew of "Babada Babada Babada Ba". Addie Italian! Poor Marie looked at my Nonna and asked, "What did she say?!" She must have thought I was really saying SOMETHING. But no. It was my way of joining in. Nonna and Aunt Ginny couldn't even explain to her what had happened because they were laughing so hard. When Aunt Ginny told us this story a few months ago, Mike was immediately reminded of Peter, in Family Guy, when he tries to speak Italian. Hmm...
I know this post kind of spider-legged out, but I hope it entertained a little. I just got to thinking while I got ready for work this morning and this seemed like a fitting post for today while I'm waiting for the massive thunderstorms to roll in. I'll put some pictures too. Make all my rambling a little worthwhile.
Jack is my younger, 13-year-old brother. He's the youngest in the family, but I am 8 years older than him and Mike is 6 years older. So this means that all of Jack's hilarious moments have been remembered and recalled many times.
Jack had a slight speech impediment as a little kid. So one day, he had to be around 2 or 3 years old, he was playing trucks in our den when he saw my Dad crouch down by the patio door with a box of weird traps. He butt scooted over, because at this point in Jack's life, this was how he got around if he didn't feel like getting up. He peered over my Dad's arms and chugged away on his binkie before taking it out of his mouth and looking around for me and my mom. We were both watching my Dad and Jack cracked a smile and remembered that Mom had asked my Dad to set up the ant traps earlier in the day. So Jack, displaying his wonderful memory, happily yells, "Mommy! Daddy's settin' up ant craps!" Well, Michael thought this was hilarious. He told everyone.
This story, however, pales in comparison to the great vanilla debate. My cousins were great fans of this story. Jack, still with his speech impediment, had trouble with his 1's. They sounded more like r's to the close listener. So VANILLA sounded much more like VANEERA. Well, Lauren, Steve, and Allison loved to imitate Jack and say VANEERA every chance they got. Jack was not impressed, mainly because they couldn't seem to say it right. So, when Mom asked who wanted some Vanilla ice-cream with their cake at one family party, all my cousins piped up that they would like some VANEERA. Jack was mad: "It's not VANIRA, it's VANEERA!" Yup. Apparently even a speech impediment has a correct pronunciation. Or he could have possibly been trying to really say Vanilla and just couldn't. Poor guy. Fast forward to about a month ago - June 2012. Lauren is on her honeymoon in Tahiti. I receive a picture and text from her. The picture is of Tahitian Vanilla beans, or, in Tahiti -Hira Vanira. As Lauren laughed, she said that Jack didn't have a speech impediment after all! He was speaking Tahitian! hahaha. It just added to the multilingualism in our family. Michael used to sing a Japanese version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town, but it somehow ended with a mais oui...French. Yeah. And then...I have one more story involving myself. Of course.
My Nonna and Poppa had a neighbor, Marie. She was very Italian. She was also very traditional in how she dressed and looked. Little scary to a young kid, especially a 2 or 3 year old, because her appearance was a little rough. She was the sweetest lady though. Always offered me some watermelon (maybe that's why I love it so much now!) and would sit at my Nonna's outdoor glass table and jabber in Italian. Well, I never enjoyed being left out of conversations. I still don't. So I walked on over and stared up at Marie as she spoke to Nonna. She looked down at me and I voiced my opinion in a great slew of "Babada Babada Babada Ba". Addie Italian! Poor Marie looked at my Nonna and asked, "What did she say?!" She must have thought I was really saying SOMETHING. But no. It was my way of joining in. Nonna and Aunt Ginny couldn't even explain to her what had happened because they were laughing so hard. When Aunt Ginny told us this story a few months ago, Mike was immediately reminded of Peter, in Family Guy, when he tries to speak Italian. Hmm...
I know this post kind of spider-legged out, but I hope it entertained a little. I just got to thinking while I got ready for work this morning and this seemed like a fitting post for today while I'm waiting for the massive thunderstorms to roll in. I'll put some pictures too. Make all my rambling a little worthwhile.
The baby bird under our dock a week ago. Jack brought me over with the paddle boat.
Otis sunset
Jasper channeling Kujo while my mom shot him with a water gun. haha
Back to the happy boy
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Klutz Kween
So, I haven't written in a while.
4th of July has come and gone. The fireworks over Otis Reservoir have also passed. It seems the big summer milestones are completed and it's the slow decline through the final few weeks until kids return to school and the fall colored denim jeans make their return to clothing stores.
I will not be among those people returning to school. After 16 plus years of going to Staples for school supplies or American Eagle for some new clothes, I just continue on with life as usual. Weird feeling.
Side note: this Green Mountain Keurig coffee is terrible. It tastes like sweetened battery acid. That's going down the drain later.
Anyways, I guess what I want to write about today is something that happened over the weekend. Some may find it humorous, others may think its stupid. I don't care. I feel like writing. And this is what the topic for today is. Klutziness
So this past weekend, I was at Paul's and I had to use the bathroom. We dropped my brother off down at the beach and were gonna go back down, but I was NOT using the port-o-potty, or, even worse, the woods. So instead of waking my whole family up with the garage door, Paul was running home and said I could go there. Great. Problem solved. Used the bathroom, grabbed a water, and we sat and chit chatted for a few before I realized how late it was and needed to head home. So he walked me to the door, deciding he was just gonna stay home. I said goodbye and was walking to my car. Don't you think my ankle gives out on me as I'm trying to make it down the ONE STEP there is?!?! I heard a crack like a twig and go tumbling into the vinyl siding of the house, giving my right knee a lovely black and blue to sport for the next few days as well. Paul either heard or saw me fall through the glass on the door and cam running back outside. I think he thought I hit my head. Nope. Just couldn't stand on my left ankle. And it freaking HURT dude. So he carried me inside and put ice on it. He was freaking out just a little bit. Said I scared him. I thought he'd know me better by now. I trip over my own two feet at least 10 times A DAY. I'm also accident prone. A klutz. It amazes me I can run 8-10 miles without crashing and burning, but I get home and manage to fall up the stairs or trip over the edge of the carpet.
I was able to drive myself back home after putting it up for a little bit with ice. I told my mom in the morning and she called me a ding a ling, just as she herself slid and fell down the first couple stairs in Otis. Yeah. I see where I get it from.
Can we just flash back to when I had my wisdom teeth pulled? They gave me medication to knock out a 350 pound man. I believe I was around 105 pounds at this time. Yeah. So I get home from my surgery, all loopy, completely unaware of the blood pouring out of my butchered gums. I'm serious. This stuff was great. I didn't feel anything. Don't remember certain things. But when it wore off and I took more with my night bowl of oatmeal, I was in for trouble. First of all, my family blames me, but obviously I was in a drug induced stupor. Do not give me oatmeal when you know the pieces might get stuck in an empty socket! So an oat swims its way through my mouth and gets a vice grip on that socket. I'm not even thinking, go back with my tongue to remove it, start sweating, and then everything goes back. Michael says I sounded like a dying animal. Mom says I hit my head on the kitchen table. I woke up and thought I just took a nap and asked why they put me on the kitchen floor. They're both shaking and my body is all sweaty. So they sit me in a chair, only to have me conk out again. Ambulance shows up by this point and a rather large woman hefts me into her arms and tosses me in the back of the truck. Not a fun night. IVs are not my favorite thing in the world. I tried biting the nurse when she put it in my arm.
And the next day...I felt human again. That was all a dream right? Nope. I managed to have a procedure that is relatively routine turn into a medical disaster.
If I learned anything, it's that I am accident prone. I usually have the worst happen in many situations. I was the band aid queen when I was little. I christened our newly paved driveway as I propelled from my bicycle, skinning both knees and elbows. I fell up the stairs and somehow landed squarely on the only sharp object, gouging a scar into my knee. And let's not forget being tossed off Sprinkles and breaking my arm when I was 7. Or sliding down a hill on loose acorns during X-Country. OR wearing a loose sweatshirt and getting picked up by the wind during practice. Yeah. Murphy, thanks for your law. I'm pretty sure you should add my name to some part of it.
Disclaimer: I still attempt stupid things every day. These past events have ceased to hinder me. I just make sure I have a large stock of band-aids or gauze on hand.
Sorry for the lame post today. I don't really have much else to say. I don't think anyone cares about my work days at the office, or how I went for a run in Otis the other day and swallowed about 20 gnats (ew).
I might be going to see Savages tonight. It has Selma's Hayeks in it as my dad would say. Maybe I'll write about the movie tomorrow. It won't be as good as Ted. I couldn't stop laughing during that one. We'll see.
4th of July has come and gone. The fireworks over Otis Reservoir have also passed. It seems the big summer milestones are completed and it's the slow decline through the final few weeks until kids return to school and the fall colored denim jeans make their return to clothing stores.
I will not be among those people returning to school. After 16 plus years of going to Staples for school supplies or American Eagle for some new clothes, I just continue on with life as usual. Weird feeling.
Side note: this Green Mountain Keurig coffee is terrible. It tastes like sweetened battery acid. That's going down the drain later.
Anyways, I guess what I want to write about today is something that happened over the weekend. Some may find it humorous, others may think its stupid. I don't care. I feel like writing. And this is what the topic for today is. Klutziness
So this past weekend, I was at Paul's and I had to use the bathroom. We dropped my brother off down at the beach and were gonna go back down, but I was NOT using the port-o-potty, or, even worse, the woods. So instead of waking my whole family up with the garage door, Paul was running home and said I could go there. Great. Problem solved. Used the bathroom, grabbed a water, and we sat and chit chatted for a few before I realized how late it was and needed to head home. So he walked me to the door, deciding he was just gonna stay home. I said goodbye and was walking to my car. Don't you think my ankle gives out on me as I'm trying to make it down the ONE STEP there is?!?! I heard a crack like a twig and go tumbling into the vinyl siding of the house, giving my right knee a lovely black and blue to sport for the next few days as well. Paul either heard or saw me fall through the glass on the door and cam running back outside. I think he thought I hit my head. Nope. Just couldn't stand on my left ankle. And it freaking HURT dude. So he carried me inside and put ice on it. He was freaking out just a little bit. Said I scared him. I thought he'd know me better by now. I trip over my own two feet at least 10 times A DAY. I'm also accident prone. A klutz. It amazes me I can run 8-10 miles without crashing and burning, but I get home and manage to fall up the stairs or trip over the edge of the carpet.
I was able to drive myself back home after putting it up for a little bit with ice. I told my mom in the morning and she called me a ding a ling, just as she herself slid and fell down the first couple stairs in Otis. Yeah. I see where I get it from.
Can we just flash back to when I had my wisdom teeth pulled? They gave me medication to knock out a 350 pound man. I believe I was around 105 pounds at this time. Yeah. So I get home from my surgery, all loopy, completely unaware of the blood pouring out of my butchered gums. I'm serious. This stuff was great. I didn't feel anything. Don't remember certain things. But when it wore off and I took more with my night bowl of oatmeal, I was in for trouble. First of all, my family blames me, but obviously I was in a drug induced stupor. Do not give me oatmeal when you know the pieces might get stuck in an empty socket! So an oat swims its way through my mouth and gets a vice grip on that socket. I'm not even thinking, go back with my tongue to remove it, start sweating, and then everything goes back. Michael says I sounded like a dying animal. Mom says I hit my head on the kitchen table. I woke up and thought I just took a nap and asked why they put me on the kitchen floor. They're both shaking and my body is all sweaty. So they sit me in a chair, only to have me conk out again. Ambulance shows up by this point and a rather large woman hefts me into her arms and tosses me in the back of the truck. Not a fun night. IVs are not my favorite thing in the world. I tried biting the nurse when she put it in my arm.
And the next day...I felt human again. That was all a dream right? Nope. I managed to have a procedure that is relatively routine turn into a medical disaster.
If I learned anything, it's that I am accident prone. I usually have the worst happen in many situations. I was the band aid queen when I was little. I christened our newly paved driveway as I propelled from my bicycle, skinning both knees and elbows. I fell up the stairs and somehow landed squarely on the only sharp object, gouging a scar into my knee. And let's not forget being tossed off Sprinkles and breaking my arm when I was 7. Or sliding down a hill on loose acorns during X-Country. OR wearing a loose sweatshirt and getting picked up by the wind during practice. Yeah. Murphy, thanks for your law. I'm pretty sure you should add my name to some part of it.
Disclaimer: I still attempt stupid things every day. These past events have ceased to hinder me. I just make sure I have a large stock of band-aids or gauze on hand.
Sorry for the lame post today. I don't really have much else to say. I don't think anyone cares about my work days at the office, or how I went for a run in Otis the other day and swallowed about 20 gnats (ew).
I might be going to see Savages tonight. It has Selma's Hayeks in it as my dad would say. Maybe I'll write about the movie tomorrow. It won't be as good as Ted. I couldn't stop laughing during that one. We'll see.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)