August 21, 2011

High school yearbook memories

I redeveloped some old film from high school a few weeks ago in preparation for a get together with some old gal pals and my upcoming ten year class reunion.  It was like an out-of-body experience seeing myself in these pictures.  I honestly didn't recognize who I was looking at.  I have changed so much since high school and I couldn't figure out how I went from point, or person, A to B.

This got me thinking... What was I like in high school?  What did people think of me?  I decided to investigate, because to be honest, I was really curious.  The first thing I did was Facebook message a few old friends.  I knew they would be honest with me, and I got some great, albeit unexpected, feedback. 

"You were the best friend anyone could have asked for.  I remember you ALWAYS being late in the mornings, but hey I was happy for the ride.  Another thing I remember is how creative you were. You always made everything look so good."

"You were a wanna be preppy who had only good intentions at heart.  You were never the "rich" kid or "poor" kid.  You were sweet, but if someone wasn't as popular as others, you probably second guessed yourself when it came to socializing with them.  You could be jealous, but you loved those around you deeply.  You were super smart and witty, and I am sure mostly everyone liked you.  I know I liked you."

"I remember you being like a lot of high school kids trying to fit in.  I feel you tried to figure out your spot with each little group from athletics, to those who didn't give a damn about anything, to the in-crowd.  I sometimes thought you just weren't sure who you wanted to be or whom you wanted to be around.  Overall, I wouldn't say you weren't any different from lots of others in high school and I had the privilege of seeing the true you when we had our moments together.  I always knew you were a beautiful person on the inside and out and always held you as a good friend."

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I mentioned this whole matter to my Mom today and she thought of the clever idea of pulling out my old yearbooks.  Gosh did that produce some interesting insight into the person I was.  Or at least how others viewed me.  So I thought I would share some interesting writings from my yearbooks.

Freshman year:

"You're a good person and I hope you never change."

"I want our kids to grow up and be best friends like we are."

"You are a good friend and we have a blast when we are together."

"We can never tell our kids what we've done, because we don't want them to turn out like us."

Sophomore year:

"You're a great girl and you will go far in whatever you do."

"You are a very outgoing and friendly person and I admire that in you."

"You are the coolest bitch I know!"

"I hope everything you want in life comes true."

Junior year:

"You are my bestest friend in the whole wide world.  No matter what, we have to stay friends forever."

"You have such a wonderful personality."

"I hope you become a successful lawyer.  Then we can meet for expensive lunches!"

"You've always helped me out whenever I needed it and I'll never forget you for that."

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Unfortunately, we always received our yearbooks the following school year, so I didn't have a chance to have anyone sign my senior yearbook.

I highly recommend that each of you get out your old yearbooks and take a walk down memory lane.  This was a lot of fun and helped remind me about the person that I used to be... the person that most of the people at my upcoming ten year class reunion remember me as.  Hopefully they will not be disappointed...

August 18, 2011

My bucket list

"Every man dies - Not every man really lives.” ~ William Ross

I LOVE to make lists.  I'm absolutely ridiculous about it.  I relish in the task of creating a fabulous list.  A packing list for vacation.  A honey-do list for Mr. H.  Grocery shopping lists.  I'm pretty anal about it...

So creating my bucket list is a familiar and comforting task for me.  Ah...  the thrill of numbering a sheet of paper, with beautiful penmanship, and then carefully listing off the exciting goals I want to accomplish before I die.  I get all tingly inside just thinking about it!

I decided that I would share my bucket list with you.  Maybe it will encourage you to create your own bucket list... maybe even give you some ideas that you hadn't thought of.

1.  I want to visit all 50 states by the time I turn 50.  I've got a pretty good start...  I have this "requirement" that I want to collect something from each state, or take a picture of myself in front of some famous monument in each state.  I'm really being quite finicky about this.

2.  I want to go skydiving.  I'm afraid of heights, and falling, and flying, but I am bound and determined to strap myself into a parachute and jump willy-nilly out of a plane.

3.  I want to do the Labor Day Mackinac Bridge walk/run.  Whether I walk or run will depend on how much I train.  Since I'm also afraid of bridges, in addition to being afraid of heights, I think I might run so that I can get off the bridge quicker!

4.  I want to run a half marathon.  I trained for and completed a 5k in the summer of 2010.  I felt great afterwards... until I came down with a respiratory infection and couldn't run, or exercise, for three weeks.  My intention was to train for a half marathon that October by training for and completing the 5k. 

5.  I want to see the ball drop in Times Square on New Year's Eve.  It's not like I'm jonesing to see Dick Clark or Ryan Seacrest, I just feel like this is something that everyone should experience in their lifetime.  The excitement, the craziness, and the confetti! 

6.  I want to travel to Rome.  Or Europe in general.  I want to see the Pantheon, the Colloseum, the Trevi Fountain, the Vatican archives, St. Peter's Square and Basilica, and all the other famous sculptures, fountains, and architecture.  I also want to go to the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower in Paris, and see castles in Germany.


7.  I want to work at the Smithsonian.  I would also settle for the Field Museum in Chicago, IL.  I am a History major, with an Art History minor, and I would like to get my Masters Degree in Museum Studies.  I don't necessarily want to be curator, but I wouldn't turn down the job if it was offered to me. 


8.  I want to go scuba diving on a tropical reef.  When I was younger I wanted to be a marine biologist and I've always enjoyed watching beautiful fish in their natural habitats.

9.  I want to build my own home.  I have a "dream house" in my head.  It's nothing extravagant...  Just big enough for our family, a couple of guest rooms, nice open living spaces, an island in our kitchen, and a big yard with lots of trees and great landscaping. 

10.  I want to volunteer/work for the Multiple Sclerosis Society.  My brother-in-law was diagnosed with MS a few years back and we have been involved with the society ever since.  Our local Michigan chapter is always in need of volunteers and people to work on committees to organize fundraisers and such.  I don't have a lot of free time, but I want to make time for this.

11.  I want to see Katy Perry in concert.  This may seem like an odd goal to put on a bucket list, but she is my favorite musician.  And consider this.  It's hard to get tickets to her concerts, they aren't cheap, and she won't be touring forever.  Every musician has their era...


12.  I want to become proficient in a second language.  I have always thought it would be exciting to be able to speak another language.  I have to be proficient in Spanish, up to a certain level, for my Bachelors Degree, so that's a start.

13.  I want to meet my goal weight.  Preferably before I get pregnant...  I have struggled with my weight for years, and I finally got things under control.  Now it's a matter of toning up and trimming off some excess weight.

14.  I want to publish a children's book.  I had to write, illustrate, and publish a children's book for one of my elementary education classes and I really enjoyed the whole process.  And, if I may say so, the book was pretty darn snazzy!

15.  I want to backpack the Appalachian Trail with my hubby.  This is really more of his goal, but I think the whole idea is fascinating and would love to accomplish this with him! 

16.  I want to buy and restore an old car with my hubby.  I haven't decided what type of car yet, but I think I want to paint it powder blue with cream leather interior.  Beyond that, I haven't a clue!

17.  I want to get my phoenix tattoo.  The phoenix is a symbol of rebirth.  I went through a big life change when I got my act together and started taking care of myself and getting healthy.  This tattoo would symbolize my transformation.

18.  I want to visit every one of the Disney World parks.  This is cheesy, but I'm still a kid at heart!  And I want a fast pass too!


19.  I want to be the founder of a historical organization.  Maybe something that raises money to restore historical artifacts?

20.  I want to get my Masters Degree.  Whether it's in Museum Studies or not, I want to accomplish this at some point.  Even if I have to write 60,000 word essays and spend months with my head in books at the library.

21.  I want to learn to drive a manual transmission.  This is especially important because the car that my hubby and I buy and restore is most likely going to have a manual transmission.  And I think it's cool to be able to drive a stick shift!

22.  I want to go for a hot air balloon ride.  I realize this is, yet again, another ridiculous goal since I am so afraid of heights.  But maybe I can wear a parachute...?

23.  I want to camp at a national park.  Preferrably somewhere like Yellowstone, or even along the Appalachian Trail.  I really want to experience the great outdoors.

24.  I want to be a contestant on Jeopardy.  I love watching this show and my hubby and I used to actually compete against each other and keep score.  I have gone to their web site to look at the sample tests they administer to determine eligibility to be a contestant, but the questions are random and ridiculously hard.

25.  I want to touch the Stanley Cup.  I am a die hard Detroit Red Wings fan and I love hockey in general.  I just want to be able to say that I was in the presence of and woman-handled the Stanley Cup.  That's not too much to ask, is it?  I might actually have to be dying for them to grant that wish...


26.  I want to see Haley's Comet.  I believe I will be in my early 80's when it comes back around again, so maybe my real goal here is to not kick the bucket before I'm 90?

You can check out this link if you need a little help in putting together your bucket list.

August 17, 2011

My Life... as directed by John Hughes

"His name is Blane?  That's not a name, that's a major appliance!"

"Bueller?  Bueller?  Bueller?"

"Relax, would you?  We have seventy dollars and a pair of girls underwear.  We're safe as kittens."

John Hughes, who was born right here in Lansing, Michigan, was an amazing director, producer and writer.  He created icons, like Duckie, Ferris Bueller, and Sam Baker.  I love his films and I've always wondered what it would be like to really live in the 80's.  What would it be like to have John Hughes direct my life...?

Could I pull off the feathered bangs, funky jackets, big jewelry, and flowered clothes? 


My favorite John Hughes movie has to be Pretty in Pink.  I love the scene where Duckie bursts into song at the record store!


Can you imagine if Jon Cryer spontaneously did this on an episode of Two and a Half Men?  Charlie Sheen would lose his mind...

What else would life be like living in the 80's with Hughes at the helm?  While his characters experienced a lot of drama, life seemed pretty simple.  Obviously we're talking about movies here, but this is my fantasy and if I want to believe that life was really like that in the 80's, no one can stop me!

The 80's were filled with Nintendo and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.  Tight pants and leg warmers.  Vanilla Ice and M.C. Hammer.  The Wonder Years and Golden Girls.

No Facebook.  No smartphones.  Things were more personal 30 years ago.  "Fun" was bowling, listening to good music, painting your toe nails and gossiping with girlfriends, aerobics, and smoking pot.  So much has changed since then...

Maybe I can bring back leg warmers...  Wouldn't that be totally bodacious?

August 12, 2011

Just another sparkly vampire

I’m going to sound like a complete hypocrite writing this blog, but that’s okay.  I know that I am addicted to vampire novels and I also recognize how ridiculous and repetitious they all are.

For example...

Teenage girl meets sparkly “teenage” boy.
Girl falls madly in love with sparkly boy after two days.
Boy exhibits super human abilities while saving girls’ life.
Girl is oblivious.
Girl meets boys family.
Girls finds out sparkly boy is a vampire.
Girl immediately wants to be a vampire too.
Danger.
Drama.
Lots of heavy petting.
Girl becomes vampire.
The end.


Everyone assumes that Twilight was the original teenage vamp series and every other author just copied Stephanie Meyer.  Unfortunately, this is wrong.  Twilight was just the first to hit Hollywood. in a big way  I have read vamp novels by other authors that seem to have very similar plots and sequences of events, however, the copyright is years before Twilight was even published.  And at first I thought I wouldn’t enjoy these books because they seem so similar, but I’m obviously just addicted to vamp novels... as I previously stated.

I just recently finished reading the Argeneau series by Lynsay Sands, courtesy of my best friend’s library, and I loved every book.  Right now, I’m reading the My Blood Approves series by Amanda Hocking.  Just when I get to a point and think “Gosh, this is just like what happened to Edward and Bella!” the author twists the plot just enough and I get engrossed once again.

I don’t really understand the fascination with vamp novels.  There are 40 year old women that have fallen in love with Jacob Black and Edward Cullen.  These teens, and I emphasize TEENS, strut out on the screen with no shirt on and the women in the audience shriek like they just won the Publisher’s Clearinghouse sweepstakes. 

And I also don’t understand why we so easily accept these silly female characters.  These girls are clumsy and ridiculous, and then they just decide after meeting a new sparkly boy that they want to be bitten and then drink blood forever.  Why aren’t these girls afraid?  Didn’t their parents ever teach them not to talk to strangers?  Or not to walk down those dark alley ways alone?  Or to RUN away when someone is chasing them?!?!

Regardless, I will continue to read these vamp novels and I will continue to go see their Hollywood adaptations in the theater... even when I’m 40 and shrieking at the 17 year old hearthrob that is playing the sparkly vamp boy!


August 11, 2011

Vacation etiquette

At some point during this blogging hobby of mine, I will have the uncontrollable and undeniable urge to spew forth advice concerning any number of subjects or situations.  As some of you read through this, you may think this sounds a lot like complaining.  And to you, I say begone!  If you can't read this and mistakenly see it for the fake advice that it is, you won't genuinely appreciate it as such. 

Since I'm here in our nation's capital, an enormous melting pot of both residents and tourists, I decided to take this opportunity to slowly stick my big toe in and test the water.  This will be my trial run at giving "advice".

Picture ruiners:  This city is filled with national museums, historical sites, amazing architecture, and beautiful landscaping.  Everyone has crazy ridiculous cameras and 12 pound lenses nowadays, so we take pictures of everything!  It's like we all suffer from short term memory loss and we can't remember things we have seen unless we capture physical proof.  Let’s try to follow a few simple rules of etiquette when taking pictures and/or are in the vicinity of others taking pictures.
 

1.      Don’t stand 2 inches in front of the statute or painting you are photographing thus eliminating any possibility that others can also take a picture as well.  Also, I’m sure your 12 pound lens has 10 x zoom on it, so you don’t really need to be that close.

2.    Don’t spend 5 minutes staring at and photographing said statute or painting, which also eliminates any possibility that others can take a picture and enjoy the statute or painting.  No one needs 43 pictures of the giant sloth skeleton at the Natural History Museum.
 
On a similar note, don’t decide that the best place for you to stop and take a rest is right in front of one of these statutes or paintings.  You are ruining the whole experience for all of us.

3.    Watch where you are walking!  No one wants you strolling into their family picture in front of the Lincoln Memorial or a blurry image of your arm in front of their sepia toned picture of the National Gallery of Art fountain.
 

Walkers:  This may sound odd... right?  How could I possibly complain... err, give advice... about people walking?  The way I see it, you should walk on the sidewalk the same way you drive on the road.  And don’t stroll down the middle of the sidewalk making others walk in the grass or the street. 

Sign disobeyers:  Even though you may not speak or have the ability to read English, there is no excuse for this behavior.  Most of the public places we visited had very simple signs with symbols telling everyone not to touch things or not to use photography.  You may not be able to read “Do Not Touch!” or “No Photography”, but a picture of a camera with a red slash through it is a universal symbol.  Don’t play dumb with the “foreign” card. 

Unruly children:  Oh yes...  you know who you are.  Did you really think that your children would behave in the middle of a museum gift shop or near the fountain at the World War II Memorial when they clearly don’t listen to a word you are saying?  There are signs at these sites requesting quiet, respectful behavior for a reason.  Your child throwing a temper tantrum ruins the experience for me and everyone else there trying to relish in the moment.
 
 
If your child cannot behave, and you are incapable of quieting them, remove them from the environment.  This is plain and simple.  I realize that you and your children would also like to play the tourist role and see the sites, but it’s completely unfair for you to ruin everyone else’s vacation.  My only request is that you respect your fellow tourists.

Now that I have provided you with some simple rules of vacation etiquette, please feel free to share your most ridiculous vacation stories! 

August 9, 2011

A recipe for disaster...

Disclaimer:  I am not an artist in the kitchen.  I have a few things that I make exceptionally well, like lasagna and meatloaf.  And I’m capable of reading a recipe and making chocolate chip cookies and pecan pie.  Quite the opposite, I’m also capable of destroying the most simple edible concoctions.  For instance, I almost burned down the kitchen making microwave popcorn. 

I gave you that disclaimer so that you don’t go and take my blog seriously and then sue me later when you either burn down your house (you should always have a fire extinguisher in your kitchen) or singe off your eyebrows.  I know a good lawyer and I know how to use him!

While it is a little bit early in the year for this, I’m going to share with you my Thanksgiving Day recipes.  When we are done today, you will have made turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, green bean casserole, dinner rolls, and pie.  I’m not getting fancy with yams and cranberry sauce.  You should NEVER put marshmallows on anything but a graham cracker with a Hershey’s chocolate bar square!

Step 1:  Prep your turkey for the roaster.  Make sure you buy the kind with the pop up timer because, if you’re like me, you will either undercook your turkey and give your family food poisoning, or overcook it and make your Mother-in-Law give you THAT look.  

Remove the turkey from the packaging and rinse it thoroughly.  There should be a little baggy of crap stuck up the turkey’s hind end.  Holler at your husband to come in the kitchen and ask him to politely remove it for you.  Then baste the turkey with olive oil and butter and sprinkle it with seasonings.  I usually use thyme, rosemary, salt and pepper.  Roast on 350 for approximately 1 hour/10 pounds.

Step 2:  Prep your green bean casserole.  Buy frozen green beans, Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup, and French’s fried onions.  Now, this is really simple... follow the recipe on the back of the Campbell’s soup can. 

Step 3:  Prep your potatoes.  Wash them., peel them, cut them into manageable chunks, put them in a pot with water, and boil them until tender.  Once you have drained off the water, mash them with butter, sour cream, and a little bit of milk.  Always sniff the milk first, just in case...

Step 4:  Gravy.  Yeah... I’m not even going to go there.  Your best bet is to make sure you invite your Mom to dinner.  When she comes in the kitchen to ask if you need help (and she will if she is a self-respecting Mom), say casually “Sure!  I was just getting ready to make the gravy.”  When you hand her the packet of powder gravy and a measuring cup for the water, she will scowl at you.  Then she will proceed to make fabulous homemade gravy from the turkey drippings and starch.  THIS IS WHY YOU ALWAYS INVITE YOUR MOTHER TO THANKSGIVING DINNER!

Step 5:  Dinner rolls.  Well, that one is easy!  Call Dad!  Did I forget to mention that my parents own a bakery?  Dad always brings his delicious dinner rolls for every holiday meal.  All you have to do is warm them up in the microwave so they are piping hot.

Step 6:  Pie.  I could also call Dad for this one, especially for the pumpkin pie.  But since my husband likes Pecan Pie, we are going old school on this one.  You could always Google a recipe, or look on the backs of cans in the baking aisle.  You are bound to come up with one eventually.  Just look for the Karo corn syrup bottle.  I’m going to share with you a recipe I found online:

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What you need:

1 pre-made pie crust
1/3 of a cup of packed brown sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons of all-purpose flour
1 1/4 cups of light corn syrup
1 1/4 teaspoons of vanilla
3 eggs
1 1/2 cups of chopped pecan halves
2 tablespoons of melted butter or margarine

Heat your oven to 375.

In a large bowl, mix together the brown sugar, flour, light corn syrup, vanilla and eggs.  Stir in pecans and butter.  Pour into pie crust (oh yeah, you should probably have already had the pie crust out and in a pie pan).  Bake for 40-50 minutes. 

Cool and enjoy!

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For more great cooking experiences, check out “My Drunk Kitchen” episodes or watch a great holiday episode below.  I absolutely love this girl!


August 8, 2011

That really grinds my gears!

Side note:  For those of you that don’t know me, I have a part time job at an auto parts store.  This extra money was originally meant to pay for the two weddings I was involved in this year, and then some “fun” money.  I also bought a new car in February, so this extra money was also covering my car payment.  So, unless I want to sell my car and take the bus, (and I don’t wish that on anyone) I do kind of need this job...

When I started this job, I knew some of the basics about cars.  For instance, I knew how to check fluids, tire pressure, and blown fuses.  I knew the basic parts that a car has, like a battery, starter, alternator, and spark plugs.  I knew that leaving your lights on overnight would kill your battery, and you need to get an oil change every 3,000 miles, and that you can put goopy stuff in your gas tank to clean it out and get better gas mileage.

Now first, let me say that after almost 1 year, there are still people who come into the store that know less than I did when I started this job.  And that’s okay.  Not everyone knows, or needs to know, the intricate inner workings of their vehicle.  That’s why we have mechanics, like my husband.  But, if YOU come into MY store looking for parts and advice, don’t you dare ask to speak to a MAN because you ASSume he knows more about your car than either of the two of us.  The same goes for calling me up on the phone.  On the flip side, don’t ASSume that I know EVERYTHING about cars because I work at an auto parts store.  I can’t read your mind, and I can’t identify one of the 50+ sensors every car has (unless it’s an oxygen sensor, but I’m still not going to know if it’s the one that’s before or after the catalytic converter).

Our sign out front does not state that we have certified mechanics on staff, so it’s touch and go whether you can walk in the door and get some hardcore advice.  A couple of the people I work with have done a lot of work on cars, so their experience makes them the go-to person when a customer has a question I can’t answer.  However, I do know a lot more than I did when I first started working their. 

It’s always amusing when I’m working a night shift with another girl (our store happens to have the highest number of female employees in our district) and someone comes in with an uber-technical question, like “What type of transmission fluid does my car take?” or “I need a new battery installed, can someone here do that for me?”  They kind of look around to see if some guy will magically pop out from the back room at the first sign of a problem (the problem obviously being that I couldn’t possibly know how to install a battery, let alone know where it’s even located).  There’s this slightly perceptible look of fear on their face when I offer to take care of it for them.

I also love when a guy comes in needing wiper blades and asks me to install them... in the pouring rain.  And then he and I stand out their getting drenched while his girlfriend sits in the front seat.  Yeah sweetie, your boyfriend can’t even change his own wiper blades.  Good luck getting the lid off the pickle jar!

The misconception that women know nothing about cars has to stop.  I can install your battery.  I can even carry the old one inside after I’m done.  Dude... it only weighs like 50 pounds.  I won’t cry if I get grease on my soft delicate hands from your starter as I test it for you.  We do have this new-fangled thing called soap.  I know that if you have a 2WD Chevy Silverado older than 1999, it’s actually a C1500 and it probably has a 350 engine.  What I don’t know is why it’s making that weird rattling sound when you accelerate. 

Bottom line... I wouldn’t STILL be working in an auto parts store if I didn’t know what I’m doing.  Next time you come through those doors, think twice before you look at me in a condescending way, because that really grinds my gears!

August 3, 2011

Let's meet at the big inflatable Snoopy

How many of you can say that you've lost your parents?  I was about 15 when I lost mine...  It happened on a sunny day at Cedar Point. 

Now before some of you get all teary eyed, let me explain.  Some of you may be thinking that I "lost" my parents because they died a tragic death riding the bumper cars, or they fell out of that freaky pirate boat ride that swings past vertical.  When I say "lost", I mean missing, misplaced, whereabouts unknown.  This isn't like misplacing your car keys and finding them in the fridge behind the gallon of milk.  I lost my parents in a 364 acre theme park at the age of 15 while acting as guardian for my then 11 year old little sister. 

I had to clarify my age with my Mom just now on the phone, and so I also asked her why they allowed their 15 and 11 year old daughters to gallivant around Cedar Point unattended by mature, responsible adults.  Her explanation?  We begged.  Considering that my sister and I were, and still are, Daddy's girls, I'm not surprised that we managed that one...

So here's how I remember it... with embellishments for your entertainment and amusement, of course! Sometime after lunch at the disco themed cafe, we split up.  Mom and Dad wanted to take in a show, cause they were old and couldn't handle the heart pounding thrills of the log water ride that tells the story of that cute fluffy bunny going on a journey through the forest.  We WANTED to ride the log water ride that tells the story of that cute fluffy bunny going on a journey through the forest, AND we wanted to pretend that we were going to build up the courage to ride the Iron Mountain coaster and the Power Tower.

Here is where the first problem arises.  We had traveled North away from the disco themed cafe, paralleling the Power Tower and encroaching upon the big inflatable Snoopy.  We were trying to settle on a designated meeting place... like, the house is on fire and everyone meets at the fire hydrant after they climb down the window ladder, stop, drop and roll.  I don't know how the designated meeting place got so screwed up, but I do remember that we thoroughly discussed two options.  The disco themed cafe, or the big inflatable Snoopy. 

So my sister and I proceeded to walk to the back of the park to brave the harrowing log water ride while Mom and Dad settled in for a titillating Charlie Brown Funtime show.  I don't remember how long we were allotted for unparented fun time, but I do know that I was worried that we were going to be late getting back to our designated meeting place.  I don't know why I was so worried about getting in trouble.  What did they expect was going to happen letting a 15 and 11 year old run free in a theme park?  Oh no... we're going to get grounded for losing track of time while having fun!  Or maybe I had a crazy notion that they would leave us in the park and just head home.  Cause, ya know, our parents were those type of people.  "Well gee Rick, they didn't make it back to the Snoopy on time.  I guess we better jet.  That'll teach em'."

So at this point, I became very much the 15 year old adult I thought I was.  I sternly told my little sister that it was time to head back... to the disco themed cafe.  Which is precisely what we did.  And then we sat there and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Now, keep in mind that we were sitting outdoors at the cafe on the (I'm guessing) East side of the building.  After sitting with a whiny 11 year old, in a fabulously fun theme park for close to thirty minutes without any sign of our parents, said whiny 11 year old pestered me until I agreed that Mom and Dad were gallivanting around the park themselves, probably engrossed in a Peanuts sequel, and had lost track of time.  Thus, we departed the East side of the disco themed cafe and went back for another rendition of the cute fluffy bunny and his woodland journey. 

Unfortunately, my gut instincts got the better of me after one ride and I started freaking out.  We had lost our parents and were never going to see them again!  I promise you there is no exaggeration in that statement.  I literally freaked out!  My sister can attest to this.  So the first thing I did was put an end to the debauchery and dragged my sister to the nearest INFORMATION/HELP station.  I then proceeded to inform the nice brunette in her cute little Cedar Point shirt that we lost our parents and wanted to report them to the "system".  Said "system" was broadcast throughout the park to other stations in the event that our parents might simultaneously report us MIA.  After being looked at like I was growing  antlers and a tail, she instructed us to head back to our designated meeting place.  Thanks lady.  Because I couldn't have thought of that on my own.  I was here for HELP, as your sign clearly advertises.

So my sister and I headed back to the disco themed cafe.  As we passed the corkscrew, I remembered that we had also contemplated meeting at the big inflatable Snoopy.  So I devised a clever, albeit absolutely useless plan.  Since I could see Snoopy from the disco themed cafe, I was going patrolling.  My now utterly pissed off 11 year old sister was instructed to plant herself firmly on the sidewalk in front of the Snoopy as I patrolled the expanse of pavement looking for our parents. 

What I didn't mention earlier was that I had opted to wear my brand new, white Walmart brand canvas shoes, with no socks.  After numerous water rides, my shoes were soaked and chafing my feet.  All the patrolling cut into my Achilles heel and I was left bloodied and limping.  My mood was not much better.

At some point, probably close to two hours after our originally designated meeting time, I was taking a break in front of the Snoopy with my sister pouting and fuming at my side, when my Mom pops into my peripherals and says "Here they are Rick."  She had this ridiculous smile on her face, like "Oops!  Silly me.  That's where I left my keys." 

Come to find out, they had been at the disco themed cafe at our originally designated meeting time on the WEST side of the building.  They assumed we were having so much fun that we lost track of time.  So they took off again to check out some other geriatric Cedar Point attraction and decided to check back again in an hour... on the WEST side of the building.  At some point, they remembered that we had also suggested the Snoopy and headed in that direction.  You know the rest...

I was livid.  I'm pretty sure that was the first time I cursed out loud at my Mom.  Then, being the Daddy's girl that I am, I saw my Dad and immediately turned into a blubbering mess of tears and snot.  He consoled me and told me everything was going to be okay.  I think both my Mom and my Dad took one look at my little sister and knew that she needed her distance.  If looks could kill...

Now that we had found our lost parents and we weren't going to be left in Sandusky to fend for ourselves indefinitely, we tried to have fun before the park closed.  We rode the corkscrew once, but my emotions left me spent and I was done.  As we walked back to the parking lot, we all agreed that if we ever went to a theme park again, we were investing in mini walkie-talkie's.

I hope you enjoy this story... even though it's long.  It's one of my favorites to share!

August 1, 2011

Are you suggesting that coconuts migrate?

King Arthur:  Not at all.  They could be carried.
Soldier:  What?  A swallow carrying a coconut?
King Arthur:  It could grip it by the husk.
Soldier:  It's not a question of where he grips it.  It's a simple question of weight ratios.  A 5 ounce bird could not carry a 1 pound coconut.
King Arthur:  Well, it doesn't matter.  Will you go and tell your master that Arthur from the Court of Camelot is here?
Soldier:  Listen, in order to maintain air-speed velocity, a swallow needs to beat its wings 43 times per second.
King Arthur:  Please.
Soldier:  Am I right?
King Arthur:  I'm not interested.
Soldier #2:  It could be carried by an African swallow.
Soldier:  Oh yeah, an African swallow maybe, but not a European swallow.  That's my point.
Soldier #2:  Oh yeah, I agree with that.
King Arthur:  Will you ask your master if he wants to join my Court at Camelot?
Soldier:  But then of course... African swallows are non-migratory.
Soldier #2:  Oh yeah...
Soldier:  So they couldn't bring a coconut back anyway.

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First of all, why coconuts?  Why not bang two pieces of wood together?  The monks had plenty of planks of wood to bang themselves in the head with...  I assume the logic was based upon the necessity for a hollow sound to replicate a horse's hoof.  However, nothing in this movie is logical.  It would be more aptly titled "Monty Python and the Quest for Logic".  Regardless, I love this movie!  I make it my goal each time I watch it to memorize another ridiculous quote.

While we are on the subject of all things illogical, I've been curiously pondering the automation that is seen everywhere nowadays... particularly in the loo.  I noticed the other day that the bathrooms on campus have automated soap dispensers, but you have to turn the water on yourself and get your own paper towels.  Don't get me wrong...  I understand that there are probably hygienic reasons for making bathroom fixtures automated, and I'm in no way lazy enough to argue that these automated devices are necessary for our generation, but there needs to be some consistency.  

For instance, why is the soap dispenser automated but not the water?  Aren't we trying to avoid touching the soap dispenser for fear that germs will jump ship and hitch a ride on our epidermis?  So is the logic that once the soap, which is hopefully antibacterial, is on our hands, touching the faucet is inconsequential?  Or, is the soap dispenser automated because people are abusing and overusing soap, thus bankrupting some companies?  If that's the case, why not make the water automated as well.  Companies can control the water pressure and the length of time that the water stays on. 

This also explains the automated paper towel dispensers.  Personally, I know I use too many paper towels.  I like dry hands.  End of story.  The damn paper towel dispensers at the movie theater never give you enough though.  I always have to sit there and wave my hands like a mad woman.  There's some exact method to setting off the motion detector in the machine.  It's like morse code.  You have to make two quick passes at a 90 degree angle, then one long pause at a slightly more vertical angle. 
 
Unfortunately, this logic is still lost on me.  So, once you have escaped the evil soap dispenser germs and washed your hands, you now have to push down the little lever to get your paper towels.  Apparently germs are selective and refuse to migrate to the paper towel dispenser.  

Although... I guess if they were African germs, they would be non-migratory anyway and we wouldn't need automated paper towel dispensers.