Grandma Mel got her back right molar pulled last Monday morning.
My very kind dentist called early that morning and said, "Of course we can't have her feeling badly! How about 10:00 AM today?" The whole drive to the dentist, Grandma kept saying, "I feel better, really. I think I'm fine."
When we arrived at the office I told the receptionist Granny said she felt better. The receptionist smiled. "Ah. We hear a lot of that around here."
After filling out paperwork and chuckling over which box to check about fear of dental work (Extreme, Moderate, or None), they call Granny back. Bud and I have a good chat while she is gone, sitting in my dentist's waiting room that is nicer than my living room...it's got a library!
Eventually I see my cute grandma heading our way, accompanied by a dental assistant who says that it's very good that we came in when we did; the tooth needed to come out. I am looking at Grandma, wondering exactly how many teeth they pulled; my goodness, her lower teeth are missing! It's then that I learn she has a partial, which is at the moment wrapped in a tissue in her hand. Whew!
She has a wad of gauze tucked in the back of her mouth where they yanked the molar, and a big grin across the front of her face. I have never seen a smile that big on someone who just had a tooth pulled and was numb on one side. Before I can even ask how she is, Grandma says, "Oh, I feo so mush bettew!"
"Really, Granny? It's okay?"
"Oh, dis waf wunneful! I feo so mush bettew!"
"You know, Grandma, if you feel that much better that quickly after having your tooth pulled, it must have really been bothering you."
"Weo, ifs been a widdle paifoo."
"Well, then I am glad we came. Do I have a happy Granny?"
"Oh, yef! Habby Gwanny!"
We came home, I made a sandwich for lunch for Bud, and Granny tucked little bits of doughnut into the still intact left corner of her mouth. Don't try to tell an almost-84-year-old what they should or should not eat. Just let them grin and munch pastry bits with their head cocked to one side, pretty blue eyes all a-twinkle. Kinda cute.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Sunday Morning With Granny
Grandma Mel and Bud arrived yesterday afternoon. Apparently there was a decent amount of snow in the mountains on the way over and they almost turned around and went back home. I am grateful they made it, and just a couple of hours after they got here, it started to snow here for the first time this season. It was beautiful! Grandparents and snowflakes and a game of Mexican Train Dominoes last night...happy, happy!
As all things grandparenty should be, we had dinner at Elmer's last night. During my yummy split-pea soup, I hear Grandma make a little, "Eep!" sound while she is eating her salad, and I look up to see her holding her right cheek like she bit it or her tongue or something. Turns out she has a bit of a toothache that has been pestering her, and it seemed to flare up more significantly right then. Hmmm. Okay.
This morning, she comes into the living room talking like someone who is trying to move their mouth as little as possible and keep their tongue as still as possible. Hmmm. "Granny, how long has this tooth been bothering you?"
Now the story comes out. It's been bugging her for a few weeks (she thinks it's from a filing that wasn't done terribly well). Bud asks her why she hasn't mentioned it at all. "I was afraid we would have to get it fixed and we wouldn't be able to come here. I didn't want to miss the trip." (Make sure you read that aloud with your jaw and tongue very still.)
How do you tell your 84-year-old grandmother that you are thrilled that she wanted to see you so much, but you want to bop her on the nose for sitting around in pain and not getting it taken care of?
Ask me someday about the...what's a nice word for stubborn?...ah, determined, independent, tenacious, adamant, resolved, single-minded, headstrong...women on the maternal side of my family and the DNA I have inherited as a result. If you need a thrill sometime, get yourself a seat with me, Mom, and Grandma Mel all together and ask us to try doing anything that looks the tiniest bit like inconveniencing someone else or disrupting a plan we have made. Eh gads.
"Grandma, I bought the most expensive turkey I have ever seen for Thanksgiving. You are going to my dentist tomorrow, because if you don't eat your share of this turkey, you are sleeping in the garage."
It takes me an hour to convince her that I would like to go to the store and buy her Orajel. I finally just go get dressed and when I come out of my room, she is in her jacket. "Granny, I can just go and you can stay..." Nope. We both get in the car. I am happy to have her with me; I just don't know how fun her tooth finds the bumps in the road.
I am actually secretly tickled pink to have a little trip with her and to care for her. We get out of the car at the drug store and it bothers me zero to wait for her slow-moving body to climb out of the seat, close the door and walk toward the entrance. I covet every moment I have with her.
Then we get in the store. All I can think is we need the Orajel and we need it fast; I am feeling magnanimous because I acquiesced to Orajel today and my dentist tomorrow, when I wanted emergency dentist today. Grandma stops at the newspapers and picks up a Sunday edition. I offer to carry it, which, of course, I am denied. Okay. I try to move us on to the aisles in the back where the medicines are. Just when I think we are truckin' along, she stops at a candy display...CANDY! She piles four different bags of Hershey's chocolates on her newspaper! "Grandma, you can't even eat, your tooth is killing you, and we need candy? What in the world?" She tells me to hush and bats my hand away, and starts to giggle like my mother. Sheesh.
This is the point where I call my mom. I was perfectly fine to just take care of all this and let my folks hear the story once we had a dentist appointment...but I can't wrap my mind around the illogic of the candy purchase. I also know it's exactly the type of thing Mom would do. When I tell my mom, she just giggles and says, "Apparently you didn't read the fine print on the agreement for having them stay with you! Have fun!"
I happened to mention a doughnut place across the street the day before. We finally have medicine in hand (and newspaper and candy) and are in the car, and as I pull out to head home, Granny says, "Donuts! Let's go!"
Oh my. She picks out seven doughnuts (one an enormous fritter). As Grandma is paying (because, of course, I lost that argument, too), the doughnut gal asks her if this will be everything. "Yes!", I blurt out. "There are only three of us!"
At home, after a slathering of Orajel, we all settle in to watch A League of Their Own with our coffee and donuts. Granny drinks her coffee on the left side of her face and it takes her the whole movie to eat one jelly doughnut. I mention at least every 20 minutes that we are going to the dentist tomorrow.
Good thing Tom Hanks makes her laugh :)
As all things grandparenty should be, we had dinner at Elmer's last night. During my yummy split-pea soup, I hear Grandma make a little, "Eep!" sound while she is eating her salad, and I look up to see her holding her right cheek like she bit it or her tongue or something. Turns out she has a bit of a toothache that has been pestering her, and it seemed to flare up more significantly right then. Hmmm. Okay.
This morning, she comes into the living room talking like someone who is trying to move their mouth as little as possible and keep their tongue as still as possible. Hmmm. "Granny, how long has this tooth been bothering you?"
Now the story comes out. It's been bugging her for a few weeks (she thinks it's from a filing that wasn't done terribly well). Bud asks her why she hasn't mentioned it at all. "I was afraid we would have to get it fixed and we wouldn't be able to come here. I didn't want to miss the trip." (Make sure you read that aloud with your jaw and tongue very still.)
How do you tell your 84-year-old grandmother that you are thrilled that she wanted to see you so much, but you want to bop her on the nose for sitting around in pain and not getting it taken care of?
Ask me someday about the...what's a nice word for stubborn?...ah, determined, independent, tenacious, adamant, resolved, single-minded, headstrong...women on the maternal side of my family and the DNA I have inherited as a result. If you need a thrill sometime, get yourself a seat with me, Mom, and Grandma Mel all together and ask us to try doing anything that looks the tiniest bit like inconveniencing someone else or disrupting a plan we have made. Eh gads.
"Grandma, I bought the most expensive turkey I have ever seen for Thanksgiving. You are going to my dentist tomorrow, because if you don't eat your share of this turkey, you are sleeping in the garage."
It takes me an hour to convince her that I would like to go to the store and buy her Orajel. I finally just go get dressed and when I come out of my room, she is in her jacket. "Granny, I can just go and you can stay..." Nope. We both get in the car. I am happy to have her with me; I just don't know how fun her tooth finds the bumps in the road.
I am actually secretly tickled pink to have a little trip with her and to care for her. We get out of the car at the drug store and it bothers me zero to wait for her slow-moving body to climb out of the seat, close the door and walk toward the entrance. I covet every moment I have with her.
Then we get in the store. All I can think is we need the Orajel and we need it fast; I am feeling magnanimous because I acquiesced to Orajel today and my dentist tomorrow, when I wanted emergency dentist today. Grandma stops at the newspapers and picks up a Sunday edition. I offer to carry it, which, of course, I am denied. Okay. I try to move us on to the aisles in the back where the medicines are. Just when I think we are truckin' along, she stops at a candy display...CANDY! She piles four different bags of Hershey's chocolates on her newspaper! "Grandma, you can't even eat, your tooth is killing you, and we need candy? What in the world?" She tells me to hush and bats my hand away, and starts to giggle like my mother. Sheesh.
This is the point where I call my mom. I was perfectly fine to just take care of all this and let my folks hear the story once we had a dentist appointment...but I can't wrap my mind around the illogic of the candy purchase. I also know it's exactly the type of thing Mom would do. When I tell my mom, she just giggles and says, "Apparently you didn't read the fine print on the agreement for having them stay with you! Have fun!"
I happened to mention a doughnut place across the street the day before. We finally have medicine in hand (and newspaper and candy) and are in the car, and as I pull out to head home, Granny says, "Donuts! Let's go!"
Oh my. She picks out seven doughnuts (one an enormous fritter). As Grandma is paying (because, of course, I lost that argument, too), the doughnut gal asks her if this will be everything. "Yes!", I blurt out. "There are only three of us!"
At home, after a slathering of Orajel, we all settle in to watch A League of Their Own with our coffee and donuts. Granny drinks her coffee on the left side of her face and it takes her the whole movie to eat one jelly doughnut. I mention at least every 20 minutes that we are going to the dentist tomorrow.
Good thing Tom Hanks makes her laugh :)
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Cakeitude
Ace of Cakes came to life Friday night for Becky and me. A little, mini, one-person-knows-what-they-are-doing and one-person-can-hold-the-frosting-roses version, anyway!
Two late nights and one afternoon after first commencing "Operation Get Cake to Church before MAF Game Night on Friday", we were off to the church with the cakes and gear in the car. And me riding in the passenger seat, holding the white roses you see in the back...the blue ones could stay back there because we didn't care so much if they got munched. The white ones...very important.
We arrive and there is a table waiting. There are little pillars already inserted in each layer, so icing gets squirted in between to act like glue.
Becky tried to tell me that if I ever worked with icing enough, I might not be so inclined to chomp the little rosettes of sugary delight. She said it loses its appeal after a while. Yeah, right. I told her about my colored-frosting-tongue photo collection (currently available in blue, maroon, and black). I have many colors yet to capture.
More icing gets piped around the edge of each layer to fill the gaps created by the pillars. What did I contribute thus far? Ever seen those guys on ships landing planes with orange, glowing sticks? Picture me doing the equivalent of that for Becky to stack the layers, making sure they were centered well. But instead of orange sticks, it was lots of, "Go, go, wait, back, no, this way, hold on a sec, more this way" and fingers pointing while I did laps around the table and the cake. I was also a human lazy susan for the individual layers for last minute touch ups before stacking. Becky said my speed was excellent :)
I also found a place to stash the roses so they would not get all soft and thus very difficult to attach to the cake. Classy, huh?
Oh, and I helped assemble and fill the fountain. We wanted it nice and full. So we filled. And filled. After we had it running for a bit, we noticed that the little holes were not able to keep up with the volume, so water was also running over the edges of the tiers, lessening the effect a bit. We want the bride to have the perfect little fountain of her dreams...but it's already assembled under the cake and surrounded by tulle...so....
We are set up in front of the church's coffee and snack bar, so Becky grabs a coffee stirrer. And starts sucking. And swallowing. Water from a plastic fountain that I am sure must have had some warning in the directions about "Do not use this to drink from. Made in China and coated in melamine." or something.
I at least find a regular size straw. After a few swallows, I realize this cannot be the most efficient way to do this. However, I am not a particularly efficient girl...just better than Bekcy. So I grab phase three of "Rescue the Fountain", which is a cup to spit the straw-sucked water into.
I have to tell you that while I was sucking and spitting, Becky just kept using the skinny little red stirrer to drink. Between my sucks and spits, I am yelling across the cake that she is nuts, get a regular straw for God's sake, and really, I don't think you should be drinking that water, there are more cups behind you, woman. Oh, and Becky, I don't think it has to do with the amount of water in here...isn't it just a pump power issue? If it wants to be a volcano with this little ridiculous motor, then so be it, don't you think? And do people think we are getting snockered right now because this fountain has a light in it which makes the water look kinda beige, like champagne? Also, does she need her car's gas tank siphoned any time soon? I am becoming a pro in a matter of minutes...plus, I am a little light-headed. Is she still standing over there?
Of course, as evidenced by the above photo, much laughing commenced while we were engaged in our rescue. It was a heroic feat not to blow trumpets of water from the straw or stirrer when we started to laugh. A little voice in my head kept saying, "Don't hose the cake, please don't let me hose the cake."
Whew! I finally can't stand it anymore...mostly because the laughter has rendered us useless... and God directs me back behind the snack counter again and I find a little paper cup that I can dip into the fountain and use to pour water back and forth to the bigger cup until we finally get the level right. Oy. Note to self: no tiny cake fountains at my wedding.
The actual cake results are lovely and Becky received much praise for her work. And I can claim that I pointed out where icing holes were, and I stuck some of the tiny blue fabric flowers in...the ones in the back :)
Vanna and Vanna with the completed masterpiece.
And, yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, and indeed there comes a point where you have watched enough icing be scraped around, wiped on surfaces, and treated like paste that you decide you can take a break from eating it for a while. Who knew?
Two late nights and one afternoon after first commencing "Operation Get Cake to Church before MAF Game Night on Friday", we were off to the church with the cakes and gear in the car. And me riding in the passenger seat, holding the white roses you see in the back...the blue ones could stay back there because we didn't care so much if they got munched. The white ones...very important.
We arrive and there is a table waiting. There are little pillars already inserted in each layer, so icing gets squirted in between to act like glue.
Becky tried to tell me that if I ever worked with icing enough, I might not be so inclined to chomp the little rosettes of sugary delight. She said it loses its appeal after a while. Yeah, right. I told her about my colored-frosting-tongue photo collection (currently available in blue, maroon, and black). I have many colors yet to capture.
More icing gets piped around the edge of each layer to fill the gaps created by the pillars. What did I contribute thus far? Ever seen those guys on ships landing planes with orange, glowing sticks? Picture me doing the equivalent of that for Becky to stack the layers, making sure they were centered well. But instead of orange sticks, it was lots of, "Go, go, wait, back, no, this way, hold on a sec, more this way" and fingers pointing while I did laps around the table and the cake. I was also a human lazy susan for the individual layers for last minute touch ups before stacking. Becky said my speed was excellent :)
I also found a place to stash the roses so they would not get all soft and thus very difficult to attach to the cake. Classy, huh?
Oh, and I helped assemble and fill the fountain. We wanted it nice and full. So we filled. And filled. After we had it running for a bit, we noticed that the little holes were not able to keep up with the volume, so water was also running over the edges of the tiers, lessening the effect a bit. We want the bride to have the perfect little fountain of her dreams...but it's already assembled under the cake and surrounded by tulle...so....
We are set up in front of the church's coffee and snack bar, so Becky grabs a coffee stirrer. And starts sucking. And swallowing. Water from a plastic fountain that I am sure must have had some warning in the directions about "Do not use this to drink from. Made in China and coated in melamine." or something.
I at least find a regular size straw. After a few swallows, I realize this cannot be the most efficient way to do this. However, I am not a particularly efficient girl...just better than Bekcy. So I grab phase three of "Rescue the Fountain", which is a cup to spit the straw-sucked water into.
I have to tell you that while I was sucking and spitting, Becky just kept using the skinny little red stirrer to drink. Between my sucks and spits, I am yelling across the cake that she is nuts, get a regular straw for God's sake, and really, I don't think you should be drinking that water, there are more cups behind you, woman. Oh, and Becky, I don't think it has to do with the amount of water in here...isn't it just a pump power issue? If it wants to be a volcano with this little ridiculous motor, then so be it, don't you think? And do people think we are getting snockered right now because this fountain has a light in it which makes the water look kinda beige, like champagne? Also, does she need her car's gas tank siphoned any time soon? I am becoming a pro in a matter of minutes...plus, I am a little light-headed. Is she still standing over there?
Of course, as evidenced by the above photo, much laughing commenced while we were engaged in our rescue. It was a heroic feat not to blow trumpets of water from the straw or stirrer when we started to laugh. A little voice in my head kept saying, "Don't hose the cake, please don't let me hose the cake."
Whew! I finally can't stand it anymore...mostly because the laughter has rendered us useless... and God directs me back behind the snack counter again and I find a little paper cup that I can dip into the fountain and use to pour water back and forth to the bigger cup until we finally get the level right. Oy. Note to self: no tiny cake fountains at my wedding. The actual cake results are lovely and Becky received much praise for her work. And I can claim that I pointed out where icing holes were, and I stuck some of the tiny blue fabric flowers in...the ones in the back :)
Vanna and Vanna with the completed masterpiece.
And, yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, and indeed there comes a point where you have watched enough icing be scraped around, wiped on surfaces, and treated like paste that you decide you can take a break from eating it for a while. Who knew?
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Wedding Cake in The House
I love when my house is helpful. I bought it with the hope that it would be a blessing to people. The house certainly had a fun and busy summer with lots of visitors. I think it's happy when people are here :)
It's had some fun the last two nights that I confess I had not imagined when I signed the escrow papers...wedding cake!
No, no, not mine. Put the confetti away, people.
Becky is the queen of wedding cakes, and she is making one for someone at our church. It needs to be delivered Friday night to a church in Boise. Rather than have Becky drive all the way to her house from work or bring the cake to work, then drive to Boise to set up the cake, then back to Nampa for our MAF game night (I made her promise to find me people I could play Mexican train dominoes with), I suggested she decorate the cake at my place since it's only 15 minutes from the church. She toted everything over here last night and the baking began.
Last night ended late. Tonight not so late, but we'll be back at it tomorrow, and she has decided she would like me to help her deliver it, too.
Has she ever seen me try to carry anything delicate? Yikes!
The above was just practice assembly to see how things will fit together. Piping and roses and decoration went on tonight and we'll assemble and pipe, pipe, pipe more icing tomorrow to make everything fit together.
I do the dishes, by the way. Not the piping. And I eat the tops of the cakes that Becky cuts off to make them flat. I have my own eight-layer cake-top cake in a pile on a plate :) And I woke up this morning to a house that smelled like chocolate cake...now that is a great way to meet the morning!
It's had some fun the last two nights that I confess I had not imagined when I signed the escrow papers...wedding cake!
No, no, not mine. Put the confetti away, people.
Becky is the queen of wedding cakes, and she is making one for someone at our church. It needs to be delivered Friday night to a church in Boise. Rather than have Becky drive all the way to her house from work or bring the cake to work, then drive to Boise to set up the cake, then back to Nampa for our MAF game night (I made her promise to find me people I could play Mexican train dominoes with), I suggested she decorate the cake at my place since it's only 15 minutes from the church. She toted everything over here last night and the baking began.
Last night ended late. Tonight not so late, but we'll be back at it tomorrow, and she has decided she would like me to help her deliver it, too.
Has she ever seen me try to carry anything delicate? Yikes!
The above was just practice assembly to see how things will fit together. Piping and roses and decoration went on tonight and we'll assemble and pipe, pipe, pipe more icing tomorrow to make everything fit together.
I do the dishes, by the way. Not the piping. And I eat the tops of the cakes that Becky cuts off to make them flat. I have my own eight-layer cake-top cake in a pile on a plate :) And I woke up this morning to a house that smelled like chocolate cake...now that is a great way to meet the morning!
The CEUs of Life
When I was teaching, like lots of people in lots of professions, I had to keep my CEUs up to date. I had to have enough Continuing Education Units every five years to convince the State Board that they should renew my credential.
I am enjoying the CEUs of Life these days. Sometimes they are challenging, difficult things, but sometimes they are just downright happy and crack me up.
A recent CEU was in one of my favorite areas of course and lab work: Introverts and Extroverts: How to Be Friends, or, Kathie's Perpetual Amazement at The Differences and How She Blows Right Past Them.
The other day, my sweet buddy Becky, my smiling airplane seatmate from the airstrip dedication, lost her keys. An email popped up at work right at the end of the day, sent by another friend in the office, saying that Becky could not find her keys and asking if anyone had seen them. Becky was looking forward to heading home and voting (now you know what day it was) and could we help out by taking a look around?
A few minutes later I toodled over to the other side of the building to see if there had been any success. Nope. Someone had volunteered to pick her up in the morning, and another person had volunteered to drive that evening and drop Becky off at her polling place, but they had to get home and couldn't stay to wait for her to vote. Becky said she would just walk the couple of miles home after voting.
The sun sets here in Idaho at 6:00 PM this time of year; can you say dark and cold? I couldn't stand it, so like the helpful-whether-you-want-me-to-be-or-not girl that I am, I told Becky I was taking her to vote, would wait for her, and would drive her home. Yeah, I am gonna let my friend walk home in the dark and cold and rain...right.
As we head to the car, Becky relates to me the saga of looking for the keys and their inexplicable disappearance. She, along with a couple of other folks, searched every inch of floor and drawer in her office. Nothing. She sheepishly confesses that she does have a theory...do I remember that morning when I opened the front door for her because her hands were full with a huge box and other goodies because she refused to make a second trip out to the car? Well, she thinks perhaps her keys fell into the box while she was carrying so much stuff...a box filled with smaller boxes she was sending to a friend for Christmas...which she sealed and mailed that afternoon...to Portland.
Tee hee hee! Becky might have mailed her keys to Portland! I am cracking up, and reminding her that at least the box is headed to her childhood best friend and not a stranger!
As we get to the car, Becky tosses her things in the backseat and climbs in front. As I am still loading a few things into the back, a colleague comes out to her car and asks if Becky found her keys. I leap up to stand on the side where the back door is open and yell over the roof of my car, "No, no keys, but guess what? Becky thinks she might have mailed them to Portland! Ha ha ha!"
I plop myself into the driver's seat and find Becky looking at me, eyebrows up. "Um, not everyone needs to know I might have been a dunce and mailed my keys away."
Oh. I stare back, my eyebrows furrowed down. What? "I was aleady kind of horrified when they sent the email asking for people to help look for my keys...I finally gave up out of desperation, but I would have been perfectly happy for no one to know."
Oh. Ohhhhh. I pull my mouth down into a sad face. Oh, yeah. There are introverts in the world.
I apologize. She laughs and tells me it's fine...she needs to learn to chill about things sometimes. I sheepishly confess, "I forget that introverts don't want everyone to know every time they do something foolish or embarrassing. I, on the other hand, like a good extrovert, have a blog where I can broadcast all the stupid and humiliating things I do. Anything for a laugh. I'm kind of a laugh ho."
By now we are both laughing hard. And I get her permission to tell this story using her real name :)
And she treats me to dinner at Bardenay after voting! Apparently, extroverts pick exceptional friends!
The keys, by the way, did not end up in Portland. They were cleverly hiding under a folder, waiting to be found when Becky sat in just the right spot at her desk the next morning. We think God wanted us to have a great dinner together so he hid her keys :)
I am enjoying the CEUs of Life these days. Sometimes they are challenging, difficult things, but sometimes they are just downright happy and crack me up.
A recent CEU was in one of my favorite areas of course and lab work: Introverts and Extroverts: How to Be Friends, or, Kathie's Perpetual Amazement at The Differences and How She Blows Right Past Them.
The other day, my sweet buddy Becky, my smiling airplane seatmate from the airstrip dedication, lost her keys. An email popped up at work right at the end of the day, sent by another friend in the office, saying that Becky could not find her keys and asking if anyone had seen them. Becky was looking forward to heading home and voting (now you know what day it was) and could we help out by taking a look around?
A few minutes later I toodled over to the other side of the building to see if there had been any success. Nope. Someone had volunteered to pick her up in the morning, and another person had volunteered to drive that evening and drop Becky off at her polling place, but they had to get home and couldn't stay to wait for her to vote. Becky said she would just walk the couple of miles home after voting.
The sun sets here in Idaho at 6:00 PM this time of year; can you say dark and cold? I couldn't stand it, so like the helpful-whether-you-want-me-to-be-or-not girl that I am, I told Becky I was taking her to vote, would wait for her, and would drive her home. Yeah, I am gonna let my friend walk home in the dark and cold and rain...right.
As we head to the car, Becky relates to me the saga of looking for the keys and their inexplicable disappearance. She, along with a couple of other folks, searched every inch of floor and drawer in her office. Nothing. She sheepishly confesses that she does have a theory...do I remember that morning when I opened the front door for her because her hands were full with a huge box and other goodies because she refused to make a second trip out to the car? Well, she thinks perhaps her keys fell into the box while she was carrying so much stuff...a box filled with smaller boxes she was sending to a friend for Christmas...which she sealed and mailed that afternoon...to Portland.
Tee hee hee! Becky might have mailed her keys to Portland! I am cracking up, and reminding her that at least the box is headed to her childhood best friend and not a stranger!
As we get to the car, Becky tosses her things in the backseat and climbs in front. As I am still loading a few things into the back, a colleague comes out to her car and asks if Becky found her keys. I leap up to stand on the side where the back door is open and yell over the roof of my car, "No, no keys, but guess what? Becky thinks she might have mailed them to Portland! Ha ha ha!"
I plop myself into the driver's seat and find Becky looking at me, eyebrows up. "Um, not everyone needs to know I might have been a dunce and mailed my keys away."
Oh. I stare back, my eyebrows furrowed down. What? "I was aleady kind of horrified when they sent the email asking for people to help look for my keys...I finally gave up out of desperation, but I would have been perfectly happy for no one to know."
Oh. Ohhhhh. I pull my mouth down into a sad face. Oh, yeah. There are introverts in the world.
I apologize. She laughs and tells me it's fine...she needs to learn to chill about things sometimes. I sheepishly confess, "I forget that introverts don't want everyone to know every time they do something foolish or embarrassing. I, on the other hand, like a good extrovert, have a blog where I can broadcast all the stupid and humiliating things I do. Anything for a laugh. I'm kind of a laugh ho."
By now we are both laughing hard. And I get her permission to tell this story using her real name :)
And she treats me to dinner at Bardenay after voting! Apparently, extroverts pick exceptional friends!
The keys, by the way, did not end up in Portland. They were cleverly hiding under a folder, waiting to be found when Becky sat in just the right spot at her desk the next morning. We think God wanted us to have a great dinner together so he hid her keys :)
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Good News This Morning
I woke up to discover I was not the one who let the tool bag float away during a NASA space walk this morning at the ISS.
Just hearing that story on the news made me check to see that it wasn't me that did it. The gal was cleaning up one mess and another resulted in the meantime. That would be a classic Sluss move.
Whew. I knew there was a reason I scrubbed out of the space program.
Just hearing that story on the news made me check to see that it wasn't me that did it. The gal was cleaning up one mess and another resulted in the meantime. That would be a classic Sluss move.
Whew. I knew there was a reason I scrubbed out of the space program.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Marley Is In The House!
Okay, first off, I am completely giddy about this holiday season. Giddy, I tell you. I love the holidays every year, but this year has both some new things and some simplicity compared to last year.
Last year was special and good, and having Tony enjoy December in the States was a blessing. But I won't deny the challenge of it all, especially since four days into his three-week visit, we knew we would not continue pursuing a romantic relationship. God knew the amount of time he had planned for Tony to be here and all the people Tony would meet, which was wonderful and I am very grateful for the opportunities he had while he was here. Hosting any guest always has some surprises, and if you toss some cross-cultural differences into that, it means my filters were never really all the way down, plus we had a crazy schedule to keep, so I didn't really relax into my family time in California. I had also just bought my house and moved in, and I was TIRED! (My parents should have been exhausted, too; they helped me move and then hosted guests in addition to all the usual fun.) Basically, the holidays flew by and I felt like I hardly got to experience them.
This year...I am giggling at every bit of garland and lights and big snowflakes on the lampposts throughout the city, tickled pink every time I see a house adding fall or Christmas decorations, dancing in the car with the steering wheel when the Muppets and Miss Piggy sing "The Twelve Days of Christmas" ("ba-dum-bum-bum!") on the CD Corrina sent me, and skipping with the shopping cart in the grocery store as I buy ingredients to make fudge and things to munch, munch, munch for dinner and snacks with Granny and Bud and Mom and Dad for Thanksgiving!
I am giggling while I grab the cute flannel sheets to make beds for my guests, buy Thanksgiving Blend Coffee at Starbucks, pick up my first free range, antibiotic-free turkey (thanks for the idea, Wendy!), realize that my bright idea that I don't need a cart when I am picking up only one item at the Boise Co-op is not a bright idea if the one item is a 17.5 pound frozen bird (brrrrrr!), put away more groceries than I have ever had in my possession at once since I moved to Idaho, arrange my fall decorations that my parents drove up this summer, and make sure there is Bailey's in the cupboard so Daddy and I can have Irish coffees in the evening.
Thus, Marley has arrived and is the freezer, the sage is in the cupboard, there are breakfast and lunch goodies in the house for my grandparents who are arriving this weekend (hooray!!!), the Mexican train dominoes are ready to go, and Duffy the car is ready to pick Mom and Dad up at the airport next Tuesday...I am the luckiest girl on the planet.
Last year was special and good, and having Tony enjoy December in the States was a blessing. But I won't deny the challenge of it all, especially since four days into his three-week visit, we knew we would not continue pursuing a romantic relationship. God knew the amount of time he had planned for Tony to be here and all the people Tony would meet, which was wonderful and I am very grateful for the opportunities he had while he was here. Hosting any guest always has some surprises, and if you toss some cross-cultural differences into that, it means my filters were never really all the way down, plus we had a crazy schedule to keep, so I didn't really relax into my family time in California. I had also just bought my house and moved in, and I was TIRED! (My parents should have been exhausted, too; they helped me move and then hosted guests in addition to all the usual fun.) Basically, the holidays flew by and I felt like I hardly got to experience them.
This year...I am giggling at every bit of garland and lights and big snowflakes on the lampposts throughout the city, tickled pink every time I see a house adding fall or Christmas decorations, dancing in the car with the steering wheel when the Muppets and Miss Piggy sing "The Twelve Days of Christmas" ("ba-dum-bum-bum!") on the CD Corrina sent me, and skipping with the shopping cart in the grocery store as I buy ingredients to make fudge and things to munch, munch, munch for dinner and snacks with Granny and Bud and Mom and Dad for Thanksgiving!
I am giggling while I grab the cute flannel sheets to make beds for my guests, buy Thanksgiving Blend Coffee at Starbucks, pick up my first free range, antibiotic-free turkey (thanks for the idea, Wendy!), realize that my bright idea that I don't need a cart when I am picking up only one item at the Boise Co-op is not a bright idea if the one item is a 17.5 pound frozen bird (brrrrrr!), put away more groceries than I have ever had in my possession at once since I moved to Idaho, arrange my fall decorations that my parents drove up this summer, and make sure there is Bailey's in the cupboard so Daddy and I can have Irish coffees in the evening.
Thus, Marley has arrived and is the freezer, the sage is in the cupboard, there are breakfast and lunch goodies in the house for my grandparents who are arriving this weekend (hooray!!!), the Mexican train dominoes are ready to go, and Duffy the car is ready to pick Mom and Dad up at the airport next Tuesday...I am the luckiest girl on the planet.
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