It's been a while, ya'll.
I found I needed to sacrifice blogging on the altar of grad school homework, a full-time job, and two part-time jobs. But all things come to an end, the good and the stressful. And in the interest of time, and in the words of Indigo Montoya, "Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up..."
I graduated in June. I had started packing in May. We celebrated our third anniversary with a week vacation to Disney World in August--it was a little slice of heaven. At the end of August, family and friends helped us pack up our worldly possessions and move from one state to another for the third time in three years. Yes, we have the best family ever.
So where does that leave us now, my friends, with the grad-school and big-city-living roads behind us? On an entirely new road, and one for which we are still learning the rules.
When Nic and I decided to move back to Michigan and back to Ann Arbor, family was pretty much the only thing that was guaranteed. There was no deposit paid on an apartment, no downpayment on a house, no contracts signed for new jobs--just the promise of love and support from both of our families.
That was the first rule: sometimes, family is enough.
Now, three months into living back home with my parents, that list has gotten a lot longer. This road we are now on that is called living-in-my-parents'-house-with-99%-of-our-possessions-in-storage-and-saving-every-penny-for-a-house has some funny rules. Let me share a few:
1. If you use the fireplace, do not leave the flu open when you are finished. But don't close it unless every ember is out or else you might set off the carbon monoxide detector. Also vacuum anything you track in from getting wood for the fire. And don't touch the furniture with sooty hands after you have made the fire. What I'm saying is, you REALLY need to think about how much you want a fire in the fireplace.
2. Do not overfeed the cat. But don't let her yowl her lungs out in the stairwell because she wants to be fed more. What you have to do is pour the leftover dry food on her plate, which she won't eat for some reason, back into the container and then pour out less of it onto her plate again. Reindeer games ain't got nothin' on psycho cat games.
3. We no longer use the garbage disposal. Except for meat. But not bacon/sausage/gyro drippings because those clog up the disposal, so pour those out in the garden. All other food remains go into the compostable (which we did not have as kids growing up). Also, if you leave less than a full glass of milk in the upstairs fridge, you are forced to drink the rest of that gallon and then go bring up a new gallon from the basement. You must also replace the eggs if you use the last of them.
4. Don't run the dishwasher or the laundry appliances between 10am and 5pm because the electricity costs more. But don't let the full dishwasher sit all day because I need to have the kitchen clean before dinner. So run the dishwasher before bed, unload during the day, and try and do laundry first thing in the morning…but don't forget that you've started laundry and then not be able to dry your clothes because it's 10:15am and those electrons now cost twice as much to jump around and run the dang dryer.
5. Don't leave the microwave messages scrolling if you take your food/tea/coffee out early. It will burn out the bulbs.
6. Recycle.All.The.Things. This was hard at first because we didn't recycle anything in Houston or Chicago.
7. The compost and recyclables go out on Sunday night. But not the trash, just in case that creepy guy is out there and wants to go through it. Trash has to go out early Monday morning.
8. Certain Wusthoff knives are NOT DISHWASHER SAFE. Inspect all knives going into the dishwasher.
9. Don't leave the TV on a random HDMI or certain family members may not be able to get the cable working again.
10. Move your car off the street before 8am on football home game days, or you'll get a ticket.
*11. Whenever you are at the grocery store, always buy milk, eggs, whipped cream, half&half/creamer, and Le Croix drinks because these are the five things this family of five adults goes through faster than cell phone data.
But all rules aside, we are so blessed to be living comfy at home with my family. Nic got a job transfer to the Apple store in town and his commute is now 10 minutes instead of the hour it was back in Chicago. I was able to secure a contract doing search engine optimization content development from home. And now we are saving, saving, saving to build our very first house.
I also get to have the cat to myself 8 hours a day, five days a week, so that's pretty sweet.
Have your roads changed recently? Are you adjusting to new rules?
*This list goes to eleven. Because it can.
Friday, November 21, 2014
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Oh, Joy
Joy to the new year! And joy to surviving scary changes in life.
Since practically everyone who reads this blog is either related to me, or Nic, or I talk to you on the phone, it isn't news that in July we moved from Texas to Michigan to live with my parents for a month while we hunted for an apartment in Chicago. We found an apartment and moved just before one of my best friends got married and I started grad school...so it was un poco loco for a while. But, I'm here to explain what happend between between August 2012 and January 2013...no that would take too long, let me sum up:
It took Nic, my dad, and me 9 hours to unload our moving truck and carry EVERYTHING (including all of the antique SOLID WOOD furniture) up the four flights of stairs to our apartment.
I almost called the whole thing off when our couch didn't make it up the vintage 1920s winding stairwell. We're back to sitting on Fred Flinstone's futon.
I finished my first quarter at grad school at DePaul and LOVED every minute of it. Managed a 4.0 GPA and am now hounding the financial aid office for money based on my amazing-ness.
Nic got a full-time position at his new Apple store, but he first had to spend two months impressing his management at the part-time level. He is dah man.
I now work as an executive administrative assistant at the American Osteopathic Association. In order to apply my skills as an editor, I have made it my personal responsibility to correct the grammar and punctuation of the doctors and PhDs that I work for.
Thanks to my lil' bro, I recently got a second job as an editor for a start up publishing company in Michigan. I get to edit manuscripts, be opinionated about commas and plot holes, and get paid for it. Dream. Job.
Nic took me out for an amazing birthday celebration this week to celebrate my big 25. Quarter century, baby.
Now for pictures! I know, it's always the best part.
Back story: Because Nic had to work New Year's Eve Day and New Year's Day, we had to stay in for the holiday. So, I decided I would throw us a surprise New Year's party; it would be a surprise for Nic because he didn't know it was coming, and it would be a surprise for me if I could pull it off and be under budget.
Surprise! It worked.
Since practically everyone who reads this blog is either related to me, or Nic, or I talk to you on the phone, it isn't news that in July we moved from Texas to Michigan to live with my parents for a month while we hunted for an apartment in Chicago. We found an apartment and moved just before one of my best friends got married and I started grad school...so it was un poco loco for a while. But, I'm here to explain what happend between between August 2012 and January 2013...no that would take too long, let me sum up:
It took Nic, my dad, and me 9 hours to unload our moving truck and carry EVERYTHING (including all of the antique SOLID WOOD furniture) up the four flights of stairs to our apartment.
I almost called the whole thing off when our couch didn't make it up the vintage 1920s winding stairwell. We're back to sitting on Fred Flinstone's futon.
I finished my first quarter at grad school at DePaul and LOVED every minute of it. Managed a 4.0 GPA and am now hounding the financial aid office for money based on my amazing-ness.
Nic got a full-time position at his new Apple store, but he first had to spend two months impressing his management at the part-time level. He is dah man.
I now work as an executive administrative assistant at the American Osteopathic Association. In order to apply my skills as an editor, I have made it my personal responsibility to correct the grammar and punctuation of the doctors and PhDs that I work for.
Thanks to my lil' bro, I recently got a second job as an editor for a start up publishing company in Michigan. I get to edit manuscripts, be opinionated about commas and plot holes, and get paid for it. Dream. Job.
Nic took me out for an amazing birthday celebration this week to celebrate my big 25. Quarter century, baby.
Now for pictures! I know, it's always the best part.
Back story: Because Nic had to work New Year's Eve Day and New Year's Day, we had to stay in for the holiday. So, I decided I would throw us a surprise New Year's party; it would be a surprise for Nic because he didn't know it was coming, and it would be a surprise for me if I could pull it off and be under budget.
Surprise! It worked.
 |
| Our 2013 Jar of Happiness. For every blessing and happy event in 2013, Nic and I will write it down on a piece of paper and add it to this jar. Then, on New Year's 2014, we can read all of the wonderful things that happened in 2013. |
 |
| In case you can't read the sprinkle hieroglyphs, the three center cupcakes read "A <3 N" Took. Me. Forever. |
 |
| Happy New Year! |
Friday, August 3, 2012
Home Aagain, Home Again, Jigitty-Jig
The great migration has happened, people. Well, at least the first two thirds of it. I don't know if I really want to relive the down and dirty details (including describing just how ghetto-jenky our moving truck was) and all of the obstacles that we overcame, so a highlights type break down will just have to do. I think it will sufficiently convey just how crazy life has been for the past week and how amazing my family is for helping and how loving and understanding Nic is to consent to all of it.
Last Week
Monday: Pack all day. Take breaks by calling all services, credit cards, etc. to tell them we're moving.
Tuesday: Pack some more, and faster. Try and eat remaining food in apartment, which is mostly comprised of partially used condiments and pasta. Say goodbye to family I grew really close to and babysat their kids. Try not to cry when little boy starts crying.
Wednesday: Pack frantically. Pick up parents at airport past my bedtime.
Thursday: Up early. Freak out at how much little stuff still isn't in boxes. Get rental truck. Freak out that it is too small and will never hold everything. Move everything that Nic and I own in this world down two flights of stairs in 100 degree heat and in about 6 hours. Realize trailer that will be carrying my car behind moving van does not have a crucial pin. Buy pin from ace hardware. Drycleaner looses dad's pants. Recover pants. Have dinner. Pass out.
Friday: Up at butt crack of dawn. Attach my car to trailer and hit morning traffic going southbound toward Houston. Travel through Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, and part of Alabama. Almost take home stray dog hanging around really good back-woods southern restaurant. Almost make the 6am news the next day as gang fight victims as dad tried to book us into a supper shady part of Birmingham where we were the only white people for 15 miles. Find a different hotel and crash.
Saturday: Nic and I miss the butt crack of dawn because I sleep through my alarm. But, we still get to see the love handles of dawn and set out again. Finish traveling through Alabama, then Tennessee, Kentucky, Ohio, and finally Michigan.
Totals: over 24 hours of driving time, $500 worth of gas, 2 cats, 1 dog, and one 5 ft fish were the wildlife high lights of the trip, and 5 Kentucky teenagers I almost purposefully ran over at a gas station for driving like jerks.
Sunday: Up early to make 50+ cupcakes for friend's bridal shower. Decorated by awesome brother. Mother chopped veggies. Set up for party, have party, go home and pass out.
This Week
Monday: Unload truck and put stuff into storage. Do mounds of laundry. Settle back into parents' home.
Tuesday - Thursday: Clean house top to bottom, including all deck and porch areas. Help with grandmother's estate cleaning and sale prep work. Call old apartment place and tell them we forgot our blue bird of happiness, please mail it to us. Call apartment place again and tell them we forgot all of Nic's suites in the closet. Try and find a job. Try and find an apartment. Try to stay awake.
Last Week
Monday: Pack all day. Take breaks by calling all services, credit cards, etc. to tell them we're moving.
Tuesday: Pack some more, and faster. Try and eat remaining food in apartment, which is mostly comprised of partially used condiments and pasta. Say goodbye to family I grew really close to and babysat their kids. Try not to cry when little boy starts crying.
Wednesday: Pack frantically. Pick up parents at airport past my bedtime.
Thursday: Up early. Freak out at how much little stuff still isn't in boxes. Get rental truck. Freak out that it is too small and will never hold everything. Move everything that Nic and I own in this world down two flights of stairs in 100 degree heat and in about 6 hours. Realize trailer that will be carrying my car behind moving van does not have a crucial pin. Buy pin from ace hardware. Drycleaner looses dad's pants. Recover pants. Have dinner. Pass out.
Friday: Up at butt crack of dawn. Attach my car to trailer and hit morning traffic going southbound toward Houston. Travel through Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, and part of Alabama. Almost take home stray dog hanging around really good back-woods southern restaurant. Almost make the 6am news the next day as gang fight victims as dad tried to book us into a supper shady part of Birmingham where we were the only white people for 15 miles. Find a different hotel and crash.
Saturday: Nic and I miss the butt crack of dawn because I sleep through my alarm. But, we still get to see the love handles of dawn and set out again. Finish traveling through Alabama, then Tennessee, Kentucky, Ohio, and finally Michigan.
Totals: over 24 hours of driving time, $500 worth of gas, 2 cats, 1 dog, and one 5 ft fish were the wildlife high lights of the trip, and 5 Kentucky teenagers I almost purposefully ran over at a gas station for driving like jerks.
Sunday: Up early to make 50+ cupcakes for friend's bridal shower. Decorated by awesome brother. Mother chopped veggies. Set up for party, have party, go home and pass out.
This Week
Monday: Unload truck and put stuff into storage. Do mounds of laundry. Settle back into parents' home.
Tuesday - Thursday: Clean house top to bottom, including all deck and porch areas. Help with grandmother's estate cleaning and sale prep work. Call old apartment place and tell them we forgot our blue bird of happiness, please mail it to us. Call apartment place again and tell them we forgot all of Nic's suites in the closet. Try and find a job. Try and find an apartment. Try to stay awake.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Flaming Honey Turds
Don't yah love that title? Can you believe they let me into grad school for writing? Be afraid, be very afraid.
Trembling aside, I'm happy to tell ya'll about our trip to Austin --another thing to check off of our Texas Bucket List.
Austin is about 3 1/2 hours away from Houston, if you follow the speed limits (which we do...if I drive). To break up the drive, we stopped back in Brenham for our tour of the Blue Bell Creamery (i.e. ice cream factory). This means we were having our free bowl of ice cream at the end of the tour before 10am. You can tell I planned the timeline of this trip...it started with ice cream and pretty much revolved around food the rest of the day.
First, a super gangsta' shot of Nic with the Blue Bell Cow.
From Blue Bell, we set our eyes to the Western horizon and Austin. Austin is my favorite city in Texas, probably because it feels like a really big Ann Arbor. There was so much I wanted to see and to show Nic. But first, lunch. I had spent at least one full day at work just looking at food blogs to get a list of must-eat-at foodie joints. The list was three pages long. My stomach isn't that big, and neither is our wallet. So, we decided to tackle only two food groups: BBQ and Mexican. This meant we had to give up the legendary food trucks, but I did mange to get into a truck full of kittens for adoption. A decent swap, I thought.
We experienced lunch at Franklin BBQ. And I do mean experienced. Franklin's sensational brisket used to be served from a food truck (so I kinda got us to a food truck experience) and when the brisket ran out, the truck was closed. The restaurant/BBQ pit/shack still operates by this rule: the line starts forming at 10am (earlier on the weekends), doors open at 11am, and they're open until the brisket sells out (usually by 2pm), and they've sold out every.day.they've.ever.been.open. We had to get a piece of this...
We pulled up just before 12pm and I feared we were too late. We crossed our fingers, got in line under the sun and stood in the 90-something degree heat for probably 45 minutes. I have a habit when standing in line, I usually try and start a conversation with other people. Got nothing else to do, I don't have an iPhone so I have to actually interact with living people. This time, it totally paid off. The family behind us was lead by a travel/foodie blogger who has quite the following. We talked about our experiences traveling, homeschooling, college, living in Michigan and then Texas, and about the food we were about to enjoy. She was kind enough to take this photo of us.
Hopefully we make it into her blog!
Then came the big decision of what to order. The menu was listed on paper bags in permanent marker on the wall after walking along another wall mounted with various publications lauding the food at Franklin.
I decided on the Tipsy Texan, a sandwich bursting with brisket meet, a whole sausage, coleslaw, onions, and pickles...basically a whole true Texas BBQ on a bun. Win. Nic got the brisket plate with their homemade potato salad and beans. Feel free to drool.
Let's see a close-up of that sandwich.
I have never eaten so much meat in one sitting in my life. Even Nic was impressed. Although, he was a sport and helped me out when I started to slow down at the end :) It was, without a doubt, the best brisket I've ever had.
After our more than satisfying lunch, we headed out to explore Austin. We visited Barton Green on the river and saw the springs there. We walked S. Congress Ave. a.k.a. Hipster Heaven. We had food trucks on one side of the road, and a string of vintage-everything stores on the other. There were even messages on store chalk signs saying they had the best bath salts on the block and to come sniff them yourself. Oh, Austin.
Then we visited a historic home and its grounds and Sixth St., where, when I was a modest teenager who believed Jesus needed at least six inches to exist between boys and girls, I was serenaded by the Naked Cowboy. My dad thought it was a hoot and we still joke about it.
Sixth St. is the hub of Austin's Keep It Weird music/bar scene. It's also home of Tears of Joy, a super cool local store that only sells spicy foods and condiments. If S. Congress Ave. is Hipster Heaven, this was heaven for Nic. Warning: picture below contains some language.
Before dinner, we made a quick stop to Cornucopia Popcorn Creations, a local business owned by an alumna of the school I work at. Nadia is a sweetheart and her business is over-the-top fun. They have at least 40 unique popcorn flavors available at any one time: popcorn with chocolate, dill pickle popcorn, spicy chipotle popcorn, snickerdoodle popcorn, and even margarita flavored popcorn. I've been doing business with Cornucopia and supporting Nadia for two years and it was so nice to finally meet her and visit the store. I totally recommend checking out her website and ordering her unique creations for parties, wedding showers, etc.
You can sample dozens of flavors in the store.
Then, it was on to dinner! And dinner was going to be upscale gourmet Mexican. We chose Fondo San Miguel and couldn't have been happier. It's a beautiful restaurant with an even more vibrant menu with regional dishes from all over Mexico. Nic got chipotle blackened shrimp and I ordered chicken pibil, half a chicken cooked in a banana leaf with an onion and tomato sauce...and the best black beans in.the.world. Seriously, I would go back just for the black beans.
So now, the flaming honey turds. On the way home, our ever-wise and adventurous Garmen took us by Kickapoo Rd. in the middle of nowhere Texas. Of course, this lead Nic and I into a conversation about how a road would get this name...heaven forbid it was the last name of some family! We decided it was named after a game invented by Pooh Bear and Eeyore where hard cow pies were coated in honey, lit on fire, and kicked as high as possible. Genius.
And that was our mini-vacation to Austin. Our next travel adventure will be to our new home in Chicago!
Trembling aside, I'm happy to tell ya'll about our trip to Austin --another thing to check off of our Texas Bucket List.
Austin is about 3 1/2 hours away from Houston, if you follow the speed limits (which we do...if I drive). To break up the drive, we stopped back in Brenham for our tour of the Blue Bell Creamery (i.e. ice cream factory). This means we were having our free bowl of ice cream at the end of the tour before 10am. You can tell I planned the timeline of this trip...it started with ice cream and pretty much revolved around food the rest of the day.
First, a super gangsta' shot of Nic with the Blue Bell Cow.
From Blue Bell, we set our eyes to the Western horizon and Austin. Austin is my favorite city in Texas, probably because it feels like a really big Ann Arbor. There was so much I wanted to see and to show Nic. But first, lunch. I had spent at least one full day at work just looking at food blogs to get a list of must-eat-at foodie joints. The list was three pages long. My stomach isn't that big, and neither is our wallet. So, we decided to tackle only two food groups: BBQ and Mexican. This meant we had to give up the legendary food trucks, but I did mange to get into a truck full of kittens for adoption. A decent swap, I thought.
We experienced lunch at Franklin BBQ. And I do mean experienced. Franklin's sensational brisket used to be served from a food truck (so I kinda got us to a food truck experience) and when the brisket ran out, the truck was closed. The restaurant/BBQ pit/shack still operates by this rule: the line starts forming at 10am (earlier on the weekends), doors open at 11am, and they're open until the brisket sells out (usually by 2pm), and they've sold out every.day.they've.ever.been.open. We had to get a piece of this...
We pulled up just before 12pm and I feared we were too late. We crossed our fingers, got in line under the sun and stood in the 90-something degree heat for probably 45 minutes. I have a habit when standing in line, I usually try and start a conversation with other people. Got nothing else to do, I don't have an iPhone so I have to actually interact with living people. This time, it totally paid off. The family behind us was lead by a travel/foodie blogger who has quite the following. We talked about our experiences traveling, homeschooling, college, living in Michigan and then Texas, and about the food we were about to enjoy. She was kind enough to take this photo of us.
Hopefully we make it into her blog!
Then came the big decision of what to order. The menu was listed on paper bags in permanent marker on the wall after walking along another wall mounted with various publications lauding the food at Franklin.
 |
| Low-cost menu. |
 |
| Inside of the BBQ shack/restaurant |
I decided on the Tipsy Texan, a sandwich bursting with brisket meet, a whole sausage, coleslaw, onions, and pickles...basically a whole true Texas BBQ on a bun. Win. Nic got the brisket plate with their homemade potato salad and beans. Feel free to drool.
 | |||||
| The brisket master at work. |
Let's see a close-up of that sandwich.
 | ||
| Oh baby, baby! |
I have never eaten so much meat in one sitting in my life. Even Nic was impressed. Although, he was a sport and helped me out when I started to slow down at the end :) It was, without a doubt, the best brisket I've ever had.
After our more than satisfying lunch, we headed out to explore Austin. We visited Barton Green on the river and saw the springs there. We walked S. Congress Ave. a.k.a. Hipster Heaven. We had food trucks on one side of the road, and a string of vintage-everything stores on the other. There were even messages on store chalk signs saying they had the best bath salts on the block and to come sniff them yourself. Oh, Austin.
Then we visited a historic home and its grounds and Sixth St., where, when I was a modest teenager who believed Jesus needed at least six inches to exist between boys and girls, I was serenaded by the Naked Cowboy. My dad thought it was a hoot and we still joke about it.
Sixth St. is the hub of Austin's Keep It Weird music/bar scene. It's also home of Tears of Joy, a super cool local store that only sells spicy foods and condiments. If S. Congress Ave. is Hipster Heaven, this was heaven for Nic. Warning: picture below contains some language.
 | ||
| Nic didn't think they were too bad. |
Before dinner, we made a quick stop to Cornucopia Popcorn Creations, a local business owned by an alumna of the school I work at. Nadia is a sweetheart and her business is over-the-top fun. They have at least 40 unique popcorn flavors available at any one time: popcorn with chocolate, dill pickle popcorn, spicy chipotle popcorn, snickerdoodle popcorn, and even margarita flavored popcorn. I've been doing business with Cornucopia and supporting Nadia for two years and it was so nice to finally meet her and visit the store. I totally recommend checking out her website and ordering her unique creations for parties, wedding showers, etc.
You can sample dozens of flavors in the store.
Then, it was on to dinner! And dinner was going to be upscale gourmet Mexican. We chose Fondo San Miguel and couldn't have been happier. It's a beautiful restaurant with an even more vibrant menu with regional dishes from all over Mexico. Nic got chipotle blackened shrimp and I ordered chicken pibil, half a chicken cooked in a banana leaf with an onion and tomato sauce...and the best black beans in.the.world. Seriously, I would go back just for the black beans.
 | |
| The super cool front doors. I was so eager for dinner I didn't get any other shots of the beautiful building. |
So now, the flaming honey turds. On the way home, our ever-wise and adventurous Garmen took us by Kickapoo Rd. in the middle of nowhere Texas. Of course, this lead Nic and I into a conversation about how a road would get this name...heaven forbid it was the last name of some family! We decided it was named after a game invented by Pooh Bear and Eeyore where hard cow pies were coated in honey, lit on fire, and kicked as high as possible. Genius.
And that was our mini-vacation to Austin. Our next travel adventure will be to our new home in Chicago!
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Texas Bucket List
Nic and I have been compiling a Texas Bucket List, a list of things we'd like to do or see in the nearby-ish Texas cities and country before we leave for Chicago. Naturally, at the very top of this list was a tour (complete with tasting at the end of the tour) of the Bluebell Ice Cream factory in Brenham, TX, about an hour and a quarter drive from where we live.
Naturally, something went wrong, i.e. the website did not say that you must purchase tickets by 3pm the day before for a tour, and we were unable to take our tour on Friday.
Fail Bluebell, fail.
However, failure for the day was not an option. So we improvised. We decided we would take the short road trip to Brenham anyway and stop at any mom and pop cafe, antique store, cemetery, and/or historical marker along the way. Winning.
Here we are, leaving upper-middle class suburbia for the open road and rolling Texan cattle and horse land.
Our first stop was the small historic town of Chappell Hill, established
in 1847 and located inside Stephen F. Austin's original colony.
From Wikipedia: "Chappell Hill today has a tourist economy, attracting visitors with restored homes, Bluebonnet Festival, Scarecrow Festival and a museum. Main Street has been designated as a National Register Historic District by the National Register of Historic Places. Chappell Hill remains one of the best historically preserved towns in Texas."
Before heading into "town," Nic and I stopped at the Chappell Hill Deli and Bakery on recommendation from one of my friends at work. They prepare all of their own meats and all baked goods are homemade. They even have a small grocery area where they sell preserves, sauces, rubs, salsas, candles, cheeses, and meats, all made locally. They serve up true Texan BBQ fare every day and the place smelled a-m-a-z-i-n-g. Unfortunately, we had just eaten lunch, so we settled for a large Diet Dr. Pepper for our next venture into a giant antique barn.
With soft drink in hand, we ventured into a Texas sized antique barn, filled to the brim with enough odd things to keep us ogling and giggling inside for an hour.
Here are some of our most interesting finds.
Nic found this one. We're pretty sure it's supposed to be a book end. Or, an ancient carving of a nudist yoga instructor. Or, both? I was impressed with the realism of the cellulite and stretch marks on her thighs, but not impressed enough to buy her. I'll keep my Lord of the Rings Argonath statute book ends, thank you very much. Extra points for the boobs, though ;)
This was one of my discoveries. Who wouldn't want a quasi-erotic scene of Adam and Eve on their drinking stein?
In town, we walked along the historic main street, chatted with some locals, admired the gardens, peered in abandon buildings, and walked through some more antique shops. However, these were obviously owned by sensible, church going grandmothers since we didn't find any similar "treasures" in their stores.
Unfortunately, after we left Chappell Hill and later wandered through delightful Brenham, I didn't take any more pictures. We were too busy enjoying the boutiques, local art and gypsy stores, and soaking up the end of the our little mini-vacation.
As luck would have it, Nic and I were almost included in a historical reenactment of the Burning of Brenham. We discovered via informational signs at a small monument that Brenham, during the Civil War, suffered the burning of an entire city block as a result of fights between the Confederate soldiers and townsfolk. We had planned to have dinner at a local cafe known for its sandwiches and homemade chocolate pudding pie, but fate made sure that idea didn't pan out. Shortly before we arrived at the cafe, named Heaven on Earth, a kitchen fire forced them to close early. Sad day...
Since we didn't make it to the ice cream factory or Heaven on Earth, I'm only putting half a check mark next to Brenham on our bucket list. Hopefully, we'll get a chance to work on the list some more before too long. There is a slight possibility that our move date will be closer to the first of July than the 28th.
Naturally, something went wrong, i.e. the website did not say that you must purchase tickets by 3pm the day before for a tour, and we were unable to take our tour on Friday.
Fail Bluebell, fail.
However, failure for the day was not an option. So we improvised. We decided we would take the short road trip to Brenham anyway and stop at any mom and pop cafe, antique store, cemetery, and/or historical marker along the way. Winning.
Here we are, leaving upper-middle class suburbia for the open road and rolling Texan cattle and horse land.
 |
| You'd never guess how excited I was for this trip. |
 | |||
| Nic was pretty pumped, too. This was as close as his "pumped" face got to my exuberant expression above. |
From Wikipedia: "Chappell Hill today has a tourist economy, attracting visitors with restored homes, Bluebonnet Festival, Scarecrow Festival and a museum. Main Street has been designated as a National Register Historic District by the National Register of Historic Places. Chappell Hill remains one of the best historically preserved towns in Texas."
Before heading into "town," Nic and I stopped at the Chappell Hill Deli and Bakery on recommendation from one of my friends at work. They prepare all of their own meats and all baked goods are homemade. They even have a small grocery area where they sell preserves, sauces, rubs, salsas, candles, cheeses, and meats, all made locally. They serve up true Texan BBQ fare every day and the place smelled a-m-a-z-i-n-g. Unfortunately, we had just eaten lunch, so we settled for a large Diet Dr. Pepper for our next venture into a giant antique barn.
 | ||||
| My Husker hubby, always volunteering to be photographed :) |
With soft drink in hand, we ventured into a Texas sized antique barn, filled to the brim with enough odd things to keep us ogling and giggling inside for an hour.
Here are some of our most interesting finds.
Nic found this one. We're pretty sure it's supposed to be a book end. Or, an ancient carving of a nudist yoga instructor. Or, both? I was impressed with the realism of the cellulite and stretch marks on her thighs, but not impressed enough to buy her. I'll keep my Lord of the Rings Argonath statute book ends, thank you very much. Extra points for the boobs, though ;)
This was one of my discoveries. Who wouldn't want a quasi-erotic scene of Adam and Eve on their drinking stein?
In town, we walked along the historic main street, chatted with some locals, admired the gardens, peered in abandon buildings, and walked through some more antique shops. However, these were obviously owned by sensible, church going grandmothers since we didn't find any similar "treasures" in their stores.
 | |
| The Bever Cafe, known for their pies and enchiladas. Welcome to Texas, folks. We enjoyed a slice of French silk pie. It was light and not too sweet, perfect for a 93 degree day. |
 |
| A sign in one of the abandoned buildings. And Kinky was his first name. |
As luck would have it, Nic and I were almost included in a historical reenactment of the Burning of Brenham. We discovered via informational signs at a small monument that Brenham, during the Civil War, suffered the burning of an entire city block as a result of fights between the Confederate soldiers and townsfolk. We had planned to have dinner at a local cafe known for its sandwiches and homemade chocolate pudding pie, but fate made sure that idea didn't pan out. Shortly before we arrived at the cafe, named Heaven on Earth, a kitchen fire forced them to close early. Sad day...
Since we didn't make it to the ice cream factory or Heaven on Earth, I'm only putting half a check mark next to Brenham on our bucket list. Hopefully, we'll get a chance to work on the list some more before too long. There is a slight possibility that our move date will be closer to the first of July than the 28th.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Step One: with Grace, Peace, and Cardboard Boxes
I have decided that what we need here is a little direction. My nearest and dearest have wonderful directions for their blogs: remodeling a first house, life as a new mother, a hobby, a gift perfected inside a New York apartment closet, etc. Well, since my life with hubby Husker now has a new direction, namely north to Chicago, I've decided to sync (let's be honest, it's more of a re-sync) the direction of this blog with our life as we move from Texas to Chicago. But this sync comes with a confession, so let's get the heavy stuff off my chest before we dive into the mountain of boxes taking over our apartment (pictures to follow).
I am in awe of my friends, namely the young women who have recently taken that big step into marriage and raising a family. I have read so many inspirational posts about being a young and educated woman who is happy and fulfilled raising a Christ-centered family, I could burst. It makes me so happy every time I read one, really it does. I'm glad that they are not letting mainstream views on what makes a "purposeful" life shape their views on God's blessing of new life and family.
However...
I am not there, yet. God has other plans for me, for the moment, and as much as I rejoice in His gifts to me and the direction He is leading me, I am a sinner and comparison is surely the thief of joy.
After I was accepted into grad school, I found that my happiness and excitement at this new stage in my life was slowly being drained away by my selfish need for praise and validation. I received many happy congratulations from those I texted (literally within an hour of getting my happy news), but after only a week I was feeling hurt...no one "liked" my excited Facebook statuses, no one commented on my last blog post. I started to feel like no one supported where I was in life, that through the silence was a judgement that I wasn't a mom already and I was lesser for it. It was childish, really, and I know that. But seeing every uploaded baby picture or pregnancy announcement get 100,000 likes, and many posts about the blessings of starting a family (but none about it being ok for God to provide a path for someone to school or a career first) started to hurt. I was brought back to this hilarious cartoon (and I know that none of you will take this the wrong way and think that I think so little of posts about family and babies - they are great, this is just an illustration of the temper tantrum that *might* have happened inside of me for like, 5 seconds):
But then I prayed about it, and God worked with me (ever so patiently) to remind me that He has just as happy of plans for me, and that I don't need to compare myself to others and worry that they won't think well of me simply because I'm pursuing my master's degree. My family supports me. My husband supports and loves me.
So friends who are at a different place in life than me, please accept my apology for being so childish, selfish, and narcissistic. And keep on being the amazing women of God that you are...and I am going to keep going down my path, and I will do it with grace and peace.
Now back to that mountain of boxes...observe:
From here on out, I will be chronicling our big move from Texas (with it's sun, heat, low cost of living and free parking spaces) to Chicago (with it's urban style, four seasons, and often gag-inducing cost of living).
This is Step One: Being Box Lady and Box Boy
At the moment, hubby and I are looking at an end of July move date. So, for the next two months, we will both be dumpster diving for boxes. There is no way on God's green earth that I am OK with paying hundreds of dollars for packing materials when I can get used materials from work...or Target...or Wal Mart.
I hope you all stay tuned and laugh along with us. I have no doubt that trying to coordinate a total upheaval of life so early in marriage will provide a plethora of opportunities for laughter, humility, learning, and entertaining blog posts.
Cheers.
I am in awe of my friends, namely the young women who have recently taken that big step into marriage and raising a family. I have read so many inspirational posts about being a young and educated woman who is happy and fulfilled raising a Christ-centered family, I could burst. It makes me so happy every time I read one, really it does. I'm glad that they are not letting mainstream views on what makes a "purposeful" life shape their views on God's blessing of new life and family.
However...
I am not there, yet. God has other plans for me, for the moment, and as much as I rejoice in His gifts to me and the direction He is leading me, I am a sinner and comparison is surely the thief of joy.
After I was accepted into grad school, I found that my happiness and excitement at this new stage in my life was slowly being drained away by my selfish need for praise and validation. I received many happy congratulations from those I texted (literally within an hour of getting my happy news), but after only a week I was feeling hurt...no one "liked" my excited Facebook statuses, no one commented on my last blog post. I started to feel like no one supported where I was in life, that through the silence was a judgement that I wasn't a mom already and I was lesser for it. It was childish, really, and I know that. But seeing every uploaded baby picture or pregnancy announcement get 100,000 likes, and many posts about the blessings of starting a family (but none about it being ok for God to provide a path for someone to school or a career first) started to hurt. I was brought back to this hilarious cartoon (and I know that none of you will take this the wrong way and think that I think so little of posts about family and babies - they are great, this is just an illustration of the temper tantrum that *might* have happened inside of me for like, 5 seconds):
But then I prayed about it, and God worked with me (ever so patiently) to remind me that He has just as happy of plans for me, and that I don't need to compare myself to others and worry that they won't think well of me simply because I'm pursuing my master's degree. My family supports me. My husband supports and loves me.
So friends who are at a different place in life than me, please accept my apology for being so childish, selfish, and narcissistic. And keep on being the amazing women of God that you are...and I am going to keep going down my path, and I will do it with grace and peace.
Now back to that mountain of boxes...observe:
From here on out, I will be chronicling our big move from Texas (with it's sun, heat, low cost of living and free parking spaces) to Chicago (with it's urban style, four seasons, and often gag-inducing cost of living).
This is Step One: Being Box Lady and Box Boy
At the moment, hubby and I are looking at an end of July move date. So, for the next two months, we will both be dumpster diving for boxes. There is no way on God's green earth that I am OK with paying hundreds of dollars for packing materials when I can get used materials from work...or Target...or Wal Mart.
I hope you all stay tuned and laugh along with us. I have no doubt that trying to coordinate a total upheaval of life so early in marriage will provide a plethora of opportunities for laughter, humility, learning, and entertaining blog posts.
Cheers.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Tension...Broken
Hello friends, who, without my texts and occasional Facebook posts, might have thought my Husker hubby and I were kidnapped and taken across the boarder....we're still here, but maybe not for long.
I apologize for the extreme hiatus. My excuses run thus: 1) from Christmas until five weeks ago, I was spending all of my extra time working on my application to graduate school and my longer marathon training runs; 2) five weeks ago, I submitted my application (which included a 25 page quasi-fictional travel memoir short story) and have been spending all of my energy stalking the mailman and waiting, waiting, waiting for the admissions decision (waiting for something you want and something that could drastically change your life takes a lot of energy...to stretch a metaphor just a little, this was my version of a five week pregnancy...except that I didn't know if I would really have a baby...like I said, it's a stretch).
Now, due to a very nasty blood blister incurred on my latest 7 mile run, which is still healing and preventing me from running, and receiving and answer from DePaul, I have the time to share with you all that.... I WAS ACCEPTED TO THEIR MA IN WRITING AND PUBLISHING PROGRAM!
Ah!
Freak out!
Deafen the poor admissions rep on the other end of the phone with screams and giggles of joy!
So now hubby Husker and I must make some big decisions in a very short time. The move from Houston to Chicago, the termination of two jobs and the search for two more, the quest for an affordable apartment, and finding the money to pay for tuition and undergrad loans will be taken with the utmost care, deliberation, and penny pinching. I'll be honest, I miss the Midwest, I miss being close to my family and my friends, and I really want to be a grad student, but I don't want those things so badly that I want to ruin the financial stability hubby and I have managed to sustain these nine months of marriage.
But I have faith. God sat with me and wrote my short story. He was with that admissions committee when they looked over my application. Although the knowledge that I had never taken a creative writing course was fuel to the fire of doubt for me, it wasn't for Him.
If God and I are thinking along the same lines (and sometimes this does happen), this Wolverine and her Husker will be moving to Chicago around the end of July. Fingers crossed and prayers sent...every day.
I apologize for the extreme hiatus. My excuses run thus: 1) from Christmas until five weeks ago, I was spending all of my extra time working on my application to graduate school and my longer marathon training runs; 2) five weeks ago, I submitted my application (which included a 25 page quasi-fictional travel memoir short story) and have been spending all of my energy stalking the mailman and waiting, waiting, waiting for the admissions decision (waiting for something you want and something that could drastically change your life takes a lot of energy...to stretch a metaphor just a little, this was my version of a five week pregnancy...except that I didn't know if I would really have a baby...like I said, it's a stretch).
Now, due to a very nasty blood blister incurred on my latest 7 mile run, which is still healing and preventing me from running, and receiving and answer from DePaul, I have the time to share with you all that.... I WAS ACCEPTED TO THEIR MA IN WRITING AND PUBLISHING PROGRAM!
Ah!
Freak out!
Deafen the poor admissions rep on the other end of the phone with screams and giggles of joy!
So now hubby Husker and I must make some big decisions in a very short time. The move from Houston to Chicago, the termination of two jobs and the search for two more, the quest for an affordable apartment, and finding the money to pay for tuition and undergrad loans will be taken with the utmost care, deliberation, and penny pinching. I'll be honest, I miss the Midwest, I miss being close to my family and my friends, and I really want to be a grad student, but I don't want those things so badly that I want to ruin the financial stability hubby and I have managed to sustain these nine months of marriage.
But I have faith. God sat with me and wrote my short story. He was with that admissions committee when they looked over my application. Although the knowledge that I had never taken a creative writing course was fuel to the fire of doubt for me, it wasn't for Him.
If God and I are thinking along the same lines (and sometimes this does happen), this Wolverine and her Husker will be moving to Chicago around the end of July. Fingers crossed and prayers sent...every day.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Virgin Turkey Tacklers
Don't you just love that title? It could mean so many things.... :)
This Christmas was the first Christmas for both Nic and I that we were away from our families. The way that we dealt with this possibly depression-inducing situation? We decided that we would basically cook and then eat ourselves into food comas. But have no fear, I had extra insulin on hand for us both!
I technically began weeks ago by baking about 15 dozen of three different kinds of cookies. Only two of those kinds made it to Christmas day. I took that as a compliment from my husband.
I woke up early Christmas Eve Day and made apple brown sugar and chocolate chip coffee cake for Nic. It was the definition of scrumptious.
Nic then headed to work on Christmas Eve Day. I also worked...on plotting out the cooking time-line for the next 48 hours. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail. With my time-line on the fridge, a cooking apron securely tied around my waste and a spatula in each hand, I was practically armored for battle. Let the cooking begin!
I spent 4.5 hours making, punching/kneading and watching my first ever batch of homemade dinner rolls rise. Seven cups of flour and several bruised knuckles (my dough decided to punch back) later and I had these beauties to serve to my husband...
We also had franks from Omaha Steaks wrapped in this homemade dough for dinner that night...unfortunately Nic was so hungry when he got home that I didn't get a picture of them before two of them met an early demise in the pit of his stomach.
On Christmas we started the cooking marathon early. Shortly after presents were opened I had the pumpkin pie in the oven. I was in charge of all sides and desserts while Nic took responsibility of tackling our 10 lb. turkey. We decided to make a root beer-glazed roasted turkey with rosemary, cinnamon and cayenne stuffed with apples and onions. My sole role in handling the turkey was denuding our rosemary bush for the 6 tablespoons of rosemary we needed. Our poor plant is very naked now. But its sacrifice was acknowledged with every "mmmm" that escaped our lips when we partook of this beauty:
The turkey was joined by sides of bacon-apple cornbread stuffing...
...and cranberry sauce (my first try and according to Nic the best he's tasted even though he doesn't particularly like the dish)...
...and of course we couldn't forget one of my favorite dishes: green bean casserole! I know, this very safe and canned side joins my love of hamburger helper...they just can't be explained amidst my love of everything exotic, ethnic, spicy and gourmet-fusion. Although, truth be told, we did mix it up a bit and use garlic cream of mushroom soup in the this casserole...
...and all together these dishes made the beautiful and boutiful spread that Nic and I shared as our first Christmas dinner together as a married couple...
God bless us everyone!
The happy couple (or, as happy as we could be with this sitting next to us while I insisted we get some pre-dinner photos together)...
This Christmas was the first Christmas for both Nic and I that we were away from our families. The way that we dealt with this possibly depression-inducing situation? We decided that we would basically cook and then eat ourselves into food comas. But have no fear, I had extra insulin on hand for us both!
I technically began weeks ago by baking about 15 dozen of three different kinds of cookies. Only two of those kinds made it to Christmas day. I took that as a compliment from my husband.
I woke up early Christmas Eve Day and made apple brown sugar and chocolate chip coffee cake for Nic. It was the definition of scrumptious.
 |
| Note: This very county patterned plate was my grandma's, and I think both she and my grandpa would have approved! |
Nic then headed to work on Christmas Eve Day. I also worked...on plotting out the cooking time-line for the next 48 hours. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail. With my time-line on the fridge, a cooking apron securely tied around my waste and a spatula in each hand, I was practically armored for battle. Let the cooking begin!
I spent 4.5 hours making, punching/kneading and watching my first ever batch of homemade dinner rolls rise. Seven cups of flour and several bruised knuckles (my dough decided to punch back) later and I had these beauties to serve to my husband...
We also had franks from Omaha Steaks wrapped in this homemade dough for dinner that night...unfortunately Nic was so hungry when he got home that I didn't get a picture of them before two of them met an early demise in the pit of his stomach.
On Christmas we started the cooking marathon early. Shortly after presents were opened I had the pumpkin pie in the oven. I was in charge of all sides and desserts while Nic took responsibility of tackling our 10 lb. turkey. We decided to make a root beer-glazed roasted turkey with rosemary, cinnamon and cayenne stuffed with apples and onions. My sole role in handling the turkey was denuding our rosemary bush for the 6 tablespoons of rosemary we needed. Our poor plant is very naked now. But its sacrifice was acknowledged with every "mmmm" that escaped our lips when we partook of this beauty:
 | ||
| Didn't Nic do a fabulous job?? |
...and cranberry sauce (my first try and according to Nic the best he's tasted even though he doesn't particularly like the dish)...
...and of course we couldn't forget one of my favorite dishes: green bean casserole! I know, this very safe and canned side joins my love of hamburger helper...they just can't be explained amidst my love of everything exotic, ethnic, spicy and gourmet-fusion. Although, truth be told, we did mix it up a bit and use garlic cream of mushroom soup in the this casserole...
...and all together these dishes made the beautiful and boutiful spread that Nic and I shared as our first Christmas dinner together as a married couple...
The happy couple (or, as happy as we could be with this sitting next to us while I insisted we get some pre-dinner photos together)...
Friday, December 23, 2011
Some of the Things This Wolverine Loves About Christmas
1. The moment when you realize that flour, sugar, and even some sprinkles are not only coating your kitchen counters and floors, but also your shirt, elbows, and hair. This situation is a natural result of cookie baking marathons. And trust me, having flour and sugar in funny places is WAY better than having sand in funny places!
2. The moment when you realize that you don't have enough cookie tins for all of the cookies you have made and/or received in the mail.
3. Having meaningful marital discussions over the proper way to decorate sugar cookies with your spouse.
4. The ability to know when your tree needs water by the more piney smell it gives off.
5. The chance to constantly rearrange the gifts under the tree for maximum aesthetic viewing pleasure.
6. The excuse to burn every candle in the house. At once.
7. The excuse to drink hot and sugary drinks at every meal.
8. The chance to show some Christian love to other harried customers in the post office. Also the chance to share a Christian smile while also showing that you will not lay down and die (or more accurately, be run over) by that crazy lady who just tried to steal a parking spot from you at the mall while visiting your husband and work.
9. Knowing every line in the Grinch song and always wondering why it's such a bad thing to have garlic in your soul....no one has been able to answer that one, by the way. It's right up there with the question of why store mannequins have very hard and prominent nipples. Sorry dad, I still don't have that answer for you yet!
10. The time and leisure to blow through 4 young adult novels in a week.
And there you have it, folks. Some of the things that have been keeping me ticking during my time off while my husband pulls 14 hour days at his two retail jobs. I tell yah, that Husker is a hard-working man! And I love him all the more for it.
2. The moment when you realize that you don't have enough cookie tins for all of the cookies you have made and/or received in the mail.
3. Having meaningful marital discussions over the proper way to decorate sugar cookies with your spouse.
4. The ability to know when your tree needs water by the more piney smell it gives off.
5. The chance to constantly rearrange the gifts under the tree for maximum aesthetic viewing pleasure.
6. The excuse to burn every candle in the house. At once.
7. The excuse to drink hot and sugary drinks at every meal.
8. The chance to show some Christian love to other harried customers in the post office. Also the chance to share a Christian smile while also showing that you will not lay down and die (or more accurately, be run over) by that crazy lady who just tried to steal a parking spot from you at the mall while visiting your husband and work.
9. Knowing every line in the Grinch song and always wondering why it's such a bad thing to have garlic in your soul....no one has been able to answer that one, by the way. It's right up there with the question of why store mannequins have very hard and prominent nipples. Sorry dad, I still don't have that answer for you yet!
10. The time and leisure to blow through 4 young adult novels in a week.
And there you have it, folks. Some of the things that have been keeping me ticking during my time off while my husband pulls 14 hour days at his two retail jobs. I tell yah, that Husker is a hard-working man! And I love him all the more for it.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Duh, Monday is Red, the Number Nine is a Diva, and the Calendar is a Three-Sided Rectangle
It's official. I'm a synesthete. Promise we can still be friends? Even if I told you that the number 2 is a goody-two-shoes and that Friday is blue? Maybe I should define synesthesia and synesthetess for you first.
Synesthesia is a neurologically based condition in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway. For example, some synesthetes (those who experience synesthesia) smell different odors for each number, or hear sounds for the different colors. For a full explanation, check out Wikipedia's page.
I don't smell purple though. I have what's called ordinal linguistic personification and spatial-sequence, or number form, synesthesia.
My ordinal linguistic personification synesthesia takes the form of numbers having personalities. The basic personality traits are contained in the numbers 1-10 with subsequent numbers having personalities formed from the individual single digit numbers within them. Lemme break it down for you:
1 = Very mailable and easily influenced personality. No beliefs or convictions of its own.
2 = Goody-two-shoes to the point of wanting to slap it. Teacher's pet. Annoying perfectionist.
3 = Naughty toddler. Very mischievous but always claims it's too young to be responsible for its actions.
4 = The older mentor/version of 2 but minus the annoying part. A very law-abiding personality.
5 = Very unique and independent, like that person who can pull off wearing plaid with stripes. Marches to the beat of its own drum.
6 = Demure. Soft spoken. Feminine.
7 = My favorite number. Easy going and like #5. Very chill.
8 = The academic who wishes it weren't a single digit number. Wants to distance itself from the others, especially #7.
9 = The diva. Don't cross her because she can be a b*tch. 3 wants to be 9 when it grows up.
10 = The overseer of the lower numbers. Denies its identity as the lowest of the double digits. Conflicted.
Good so far? And so for me, the number 79 is a very strong personality number because 7 won't be manipulated by 9, but 9 isn't sure 7 is cool enough to be seen with.
My spatial-sequence or number form synesthesia is the strongest. To help you understand a bit better, here's a good video.
I see the days of the week laid out in an "L" shape with Monday at the top of the "L" and Sunday at the end of the horizontal line. But I'm always looking at it so that Sunday and the foot of the "L" are sticking up to my right and I read the days of the week side-ways (because they are written as if the "L" were facing like it is when you write it). The days of the week are in connected boxes and they are all colored. However, Saturday and Sunday are slightly longer boxes and part of Friday bleeds into Saturday. I think this is because I know I can stay up later on those days.
Monday = Red
Tuesday = Yellow
Wednesday = Purple
Thursday = Green
Friday = Blue
Saturday = Silver/Gray
Sunday = Gold/Brownish-orange
I also have a very specific spatial orientation to the months in the year. They are arranged in a 3 sided rectangle that is missing one of its long sides. I stand in place of one long side with December to my left, followed by January and February on the short side. March begins the long side opposite me followed by April-August with September beginning the short side to my right. The short side to my right stops with November and there I stand: in the corner of the short side with November to my right, a long gap and then December to my left beginning the other short side. Each month also has a color.
My number sequence is also 3-dimensional. It's at an angle to my left and continues at an angle going up and to my right in front of me. At 10, the line goes straight in front a bit, then at 20 it angles to my right again and stair steps up at each integer of 10 (20s, 30s, 40s, etc.). At 101 it turns the corner to the left at 90 degrees and each number thereafter is in that straight line to the left.
Years proceed in the opposite way. I see myself at the current year, with previous years stepping down to my left, with a slight kink at 1990 so that 1989-1900 bend slightly to the right. Then, 1700-1899 double back on the 1900-1999 line.
I discovered that not everyone has this spatial relationship to numbers, days, weeks, months, and years just this week when a colleague of mine, who teaches AP Psychology at the school I work at, described her lessons about synesthesia and mentioned these various kinds of synesthesia. I told her that of course my days of the week have colors and that I see them three dimensionally in relation to me when I think/talk about them. She diagnosed me on the spot in the cafeteria. I got to be her guest speaker the next day in her AP class.
Are you a synesthete? They claim 1 in 23 people are. I'm curious to hear your thoughts on this....
Synesthesia is a neurologically based condition in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway. For example, some synesthetes (those who experience synesthesia) smell different odors for each number, or hear sounds for the different colors. For a full explanation, check out Wikipedia's page.
I don't smell purple though. I have what's called ordinal linguistic personification and spatial-sequence, or number form, synesthesia.
My ordinal linguistic personification synesthesia takes the form of numbers having personalities. The basic personality traits are contained in the numbers 1-10 with subsequent numbers having personalities formed from the individual single digit numbers within them. Lemme break it down for you:
1 = Very mailable and easily influenced personality. No beliefs or convictions of its own.
2 = Goody-two-shoes to the point of wanting to slap it. Teacher's pet. Annoying perfectionist.
3 = Naughty toddler. Very mischievous but always claims it's too young to be responsible for its actions.
4 = The older mentor/version of 2 but minus the annoying part. A very law-abiding personality.
5 = Very unique and independent, like that person who can pull off wearing plaid with stripes. Marches to the beat of its own drum.
6 = Demure. Soft spoken. Feminine.
7 = My favorite number. Easy going and like #5. Very chill.
8 = The academic who wishes it weren't a single digit number. Wants to distance itself from the others, especially #7.
9 = The diva. Don't cross her because she can be a b*tch. 3 wants to be 9 when it grows up.
10 = The overseer of the lower numbers. Denies its identity as the lowest of the double digits. Conflicted.
Good so far? And so for me, the number 79 is a very strong personality number because 7 won't be manipulated by 9, but 9 isn't sure 7 is cool enough to be seen with.
My spatial-sequence or number form synesthesia is the strongest. To help you understand a bit better, here's a good video.
I see the days of the week laid out in an "L" shape with Monday at the top of the "L" and Sunday at the end of the horizontal line. But I'm always looking at it so that Sunday and the foot of the "L" are sticking up to my right and I read the days of the week side-ways (because they are written as if the "L" were facing like it is when you write it). The days of the week are in connected boxes and they are all colored. However, Saturday and Sunday are slightly longer boxes and part of Friday bleeds into Saturday. I think this is because I know I can stay up later on those days.
Monday = Red
Tuesday = Yellow
Wednesday = Purple
Thursday = Green
Friday = Blue
Saturday = Silver/Gray
Sunday = Gold/Brownish-orange
I also have a very specific spatial orientation to the months in the year. They are arranged in a 3 sided rectangle that is missing one of its long sides. I stand in place of one long side with December to my left, followed by January and February on the short side. March begins the long side opposite me followed by April-August with September beginning the short side to my right. The short side to my right stops with November and there I stand: in the corner of the short side with November to my right, a long gap and then December to my left beginning the other short side. Each month also has a color.
My number sequence is also 3-dimensional. It's at an angle to my left and continues at an angle going up and to my right in front of me. At 10, the line goes straight in front a bit, then at 20 it angles to my right again and stair steps up at each integer of 10 (20s, 30s, 40s, etc.). At 101 it turns the corner to the left at 90 degrees and each number thereafter is in that straight line to the left.
Years proceed in the opposite way. I see myself at the current year, with previous years stepping down to my left, with a slight kink at 1990 so that 1989-1900 bend slightly to the right. Then, 1700-1899 double back on the 1900-1999 line.
I discovered that not everyone has this spatial relationship to numbers, days, weeks, months, and years just this week when a colleague of mine, who teaches AP Psychology at the school I work at, described her lessons about synesthesia and mentioned these various kinds of synesthesia. I told her that of course my days of the week have colors and that I see them three dimensionally in relation to me when I think/talk about them. She diagnosed me on the spot in the cafeteria. I got to be her guest speaker the next day in her AP class.
Are you a synesthete? They claim 1 in 23 people are. I'm curious to hear your thoughts on this....
No Charlie Brown Christmas Trees Allowed
Ah, the first Christmas as a married couple. When two people attempt to make 20+ years of two different family traditions into something new and their very own. This could be a very beautiful or a very ugly new thing, depending on the compatability of the respective traditions.
Friends and family, have no fear. You won't hear any bickering in our apartment over white or colored Christmas lights on the tree (they're colored, of course), no arguments about a themed tree or one with a menagerie of beloved ornaments (it's a menagerie of ornaments, no question), and absolutely no disagreement about real vs. fake tree (I did a fake tree last year and about cried. Every day. So it's a real tree this year.) All of this agreement means we obviously did our premarital counseling homework.
But Texas did not do its "Ariel's necessities for Christmas" homework. The list is rather long (and it starts with the lack of snow), but for this post we'll simply focus on the adventure of getting a real, live, fragrant, Christmas tree in the Lone Star state.
My loving and understanding husband promised that we could go pick out a tree two days after we returned from our Thanksgiving trip to Nebraska. I was going to have my tree up and decorated before the first day of December! Things were off to a good start!
First stop that evening was Walmart for a tree stand. We checked out the pre-cut Christmas trees offered there and were appalled to see a total of 6 Charlie Brown Christmas trees (and I mean the Charlie Brown trees before Linus put his blanket around it). Observe:
I promptly turned up my nose and Nic and I proceeded to a Christmas tree farm. In Michigan you can find a plethora of them. In urban Texas you have two choices, both of which are at least 30 minutes away from where ever you live. No matter, my Ford compact gets good gas mileage. Spring Creek Growers, the five-time winners of Grand Champion Christmas Trees of Texas, here we come!
As we approached the farm, I noticed the two "farm hands" helping to bind and load trees into people's trucks. They are in t-shirts. Because it's 65 degrees outside. I zipped up my jacket and pretended to shiver. It made me feel better.
The nice lady at the information shack told us that we could go cut our tree or choose from the freshly pre-cut trees. We decided to check out the cut-your-own trees.
Here is Nic with the measuring pole so you know how tall you are cutting your tree. Apparently, Nic did not see the height markings on the pole, so half way to the trees he asks me "What's this pole for?"
I told him it was for pole vaulting over the trees.
After doing a very scientific and thorough inspection of the trees offered in the field, I declared them unworthy. You only had two tree choices: Leyland Cypress or Virginia Pine. Wimpy trees with not enough branch strength to hold paper snowflake ornaments or fruity trees with swishy looking needles with a poor excuse for pine fragrance.
Back to the pre-cut trees.
And that's where we met "the one." A six foot Fraser with buff and toned branches and a strong pine scent to make you (or at least me) weak in the knees.
Nic might have called it "tree fondling" but I called it "tree love at first sight." It was ours, it was meant to be. We paid for it, had it shaken and bound. Then we took it to our car.
Remember my Ford Escort, my compact car that gets great gas mileage? That's right, that was the only vehicle we had to transport our tree home. Observe the result of determination and Nic's mad skillz.
An older Texan passed us as Nic was loading the tree into the backseat and promptly told him, "Son, ain't no way you're gettin' that tree into that there car." Pa-lease, sir. Just because we're the only ones in the parking lot without a Ford F-150 doesn't mean we can't engineer the improbable. I've seen way more ghetto tree haulin' arrangements than this.
But we drove home under 45 miles/hour, just in case.
The only other bump we had while putting up our tree was discovering that we only owned (and could afford after the cost of the tree, the tree stand, the gas to get the tree..) one strand of lights for our tree. Be honest, does it look that ghetto?
Of course it doesn't because the flash always washes out the lights. Perfect. We can pretend.
The last thing I must mention about our tree is how much love is hung around its branches. There are several personalized and "our first Christmas" ornaments we received as wedding gifts and the skirt was handmade by one of my aunts. Both of our families are with us this Christmas season, even if they are hundreds of miles away. We love you all.
Friends and family, have no fear. You won't hear any bickering in our apartment over white or colored Christmas lights on the tree (they're colored, of course), no arguments about a themed tree or one with a menagerie of beloved ornaments (it's a menagerie of ornaments, no question), and absolutely no disagreement about real vs. fake tree (I did a fake tree last year and about cried. Every day. So it's a real tree this year.) All of this agreement means we obviously did our premarital counseling homework.
But Texas did not do its "Ariel's necessities for Christmas" homework. The list is rather long (and it starts with the lack of snow), but for this post we'll simply focus on the adventure of getting a real, live, fragrant, Christmas tree in the Lone Star state.
My loving and understanding husband promised that we could go pick out a tree two days after we returned from our Thanksgiving trip to Nebraska. I was going to have my tree up and decorated before the first day of December! Things were off to a good start!
First stop that evening was Walmart for a tree stand. We checked out the pre-cut Christmas trees offered there and were appalled to see a total of 6 Charlie Brown Christmas trees (and I mean the Charlie Brown trees before Linus put his blanket around it). Observe:
I promptly turned up my nose and Nic and I proceeded to a Christmas tree farm. In Michigan you can find a plethora of them. In urban Texas you have two choices, both of which are at least 30 minutes away from where ever you live. No matter, my Ford compact gets good gas mileage. Spring Creek Growers, the five-time winners of Grand Champion Christmas Trees of Texas, here we come!
As we approached the farm, I noticed the two "farm hands" helping to bind and load trees into people's trucks. They are in t-shirts. Because it's 65 degrees outside. I zipped up my jacket and pretended to shiver. It made me feel better.
The nice lady at the information shack told us that we could go cut our tree or choose from the freshly pre-cut trees. We decided to check out the cut-your-own trees.
I told him it was for pole vaulting over the trees.
After doing a very scientific and thorough inspection of the trees offered in the field, I declared them unworthy. You only had two tree choices: Leyland Cypress or Virginia Pine. Wimpy trees with not enough branch strength to hold paper snowflake ornaments or fruity trees with swishy looking needles with a poor excuse for pine fragrance.
Back to the pre-cut trees.
And that's where we met "the one." A six foot Fraser with buff and toned branches and a strong pine scent to make you (or at least me) weak in the knees.
Remember my Ford Escort, my compact car that gets great gas mileage? That's right, that was the only vehicle we had to transport our tree home. Observe the result of determination and Nic's mad skillz.
An older Texan passed us as Nic was loading the tree into the backseat and promptly told him, "Son, ain't no way you're gettin' that tree into that there car." Pa-lease, sir. Just because we're the only ones in the parking lot without a Ford F-150 doesn't mean we can't engineer the improbable. I've seen way more ghetto tree haulin' arrangements than this.
But we drove home under 45 miles/hour, just in case.
The only other bump we had while putting up our tree was discovering that we only owned (and could afford after the cost of the tree, the tree stand, the gas to get the tree..) one strand of lights for our tree. Be honest, does it look that ghetto?
The last thing I must mention about our tree is how much love is hung around its branches. There are several personalized and "our first Christmas" ornaments we received as wedding gifts and the skirt was handmade by one of my aunts. Both of our families are with us this Christmas season, even if they are hundreds of miles away. We love you all.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Halloween: A First
Nic and I have a pretty good track record when it comes to Halloween. Granted, this was only our second one together, but two for two is still a perfect record. Last year, he surprised me by deciding on Thursday night to drive the 12.5 hours down from NE to TX to be with me for the Halloween weekend. I love this about him, his romantic spontaneity.
This year, however, was our first Halloween as a married couple.
The Friday before Halloween, we had a small party at our apartment; the first shin-dig we'd ever hosted at our place. It was pretty chill and laid back: four friends from church, pizza, a friend's homemade pumpkin cinnamon bread pudding, and games. Nic and I were almost the champions of 90's Trivial Pursuit game, but were beaten by our friends who were both born much earlier in the 80s and can recall more events from the years 1990-1999 than either Nic or I. However, it must be said that we were the first to obtain a colored triangle in the game, and that I impressed the others by knowing what a FPS is...a First Person Shooter video/computer game, duh. (A shout out to my dad and brother for those endless games of Doom, which made my correct answer possible.)
The weekend was very quiet and the extent of our Halloween celebrations was a Ghost Busters marathon ("there's always room for jello!"). Then there was the Oktoberfest/Reformation Day cook out at church on Sunday, which came complete with a very tough trivia game about all things German/Lutheran/October.
On Monday, I told Nic that I desperately wanted to carve a pumpkin with him for Halloween. We always carved pumpkins at my house on Halloween. My parents have this great video of me as a toddler flinging pumpkin guts everywhere as I dig into my first pumpkin. Winning!
As soon as I got home from work on Halloween, Nic and I headed to Wal Mart. We'd seen pumpkins there just days before and figured we'd get a steal on a pumpkin and the carving kit as they'd most likely be on sale. I must say, this made me very sad to think that our only recourse for getting a pumpkin was to go to Wal Mart. My heart ached for the roadside pumpkin picking of MI!
Tragedy of tragedies, Nic and I walked the entire length and breadth of our super Wal Mart only to discover that THEY DID NOT HAVE PUMPKINS ON HALLOWEEN DAY. Oh, but they were 2/3 of the way set up for Christmas, complete with fake trees and ornaments. I think that this is one of Texas' greatest flaws, that because they don't have seasons, they just rush through them irreverently and without respect.
Luckily, we have a Kroger down the street and I KNEW they'd have them as I'd just been by there days before. But what did we find? That Kroger too had no trace of Halloween decorations, let alone pumpkins. At this point, panic was setting in for me. We had one last spot to check before despairing. The HEB across the street. Surly, if they had organic versions of every herb/vegetable imaginable, they'd still have pumpkins.
Well folks, Here Everything ISN'T Better.
They did have pumpkins, of a sort. They had "pie pumpkins" which were very small and barely worth their $5 to use for carving. But they did have these massive pumpkins, which would have worked just fine, for $25 each. Well, I was not about to pay $25 for an over-sized pumpkin, even if it was organic! I reasoned that with the trends of the other stores, there was no way that this store was going to sell all five of these giant pumpkins for $25 each.
Time to try out my mad haggling skills. I told Nic I was prepared to take these drastic measures for a pumpkin, but I'm not sure he believed me until I was dragging him to find a manager.
Two managers and a checkout girl later and I am trying to work my hard-earned Hillsdale rhetoric skills on a Latnio manager. I explain that we are willing to pay $10 for a pumpkin and that I doubt she will sell all of them for full price before they are rotten.
"I'm sorry, but I don't have that power" she tells me.
BS. I've worked in retail and know that for customer satisfaction you can make these kinds of calls.
'"Fine. Then we're not getting anything" I reply and storm off with Nic. Perhaps I should have swore loudly in Spanish, then maybe she would have taken me more seriously.
Back at our apartment, I was pouting in the kitchen when Nic came to my rescue. He was holding this mini pumpkin, which was partially spray painted gold, that we had taken from my work's Golf Tournament weeks before as fall decoration. I mean, this thing barely qualified as an over-sized gourd. But, Nic assured me we could still carve our Harry Potter pattern into it.
Score, hubby!
This year, however, was our first Halloween as a married couple.
The Friday before Halloween, we had a small party at our apartment; the first shin-dig we'd ever hosted at our place. It was pretty chill and laid back: four friends from church, pizza, a friend's homemade pumpkin cinnamon bread pudding, and games. Nic and I were almost the champions of 90's Trivial Pursuit game, but were beaten by our friends who were both born much earlier in the 80s and can recall more events from the years 1990-1999 than either Nic or I. However, it must be said that we were the first to obtain a colored triangle in the game, and that I impressed the others by knowing what a FPS is...a First Person Shooter video/computer game, duh. (A shout out to my dad and brother for those endless games of Doom, which made my correct answer possible.)
The weekend was very quiet and the extent of our Halloween celebrations was a Ghost Busters marathon ("there's always room for jello!"). Then there was the Oktoberfest/Reformation Day cook out at church on Sunday, which came complete with a very tough trivia game about all things German/Lutheran/October.
On Monday, I told Nic that I desperately wanted to carve a pumpkin with him for Halloween. We always carved pumpkins at my house on Halloween. My parents have this great video of me as a toddler flinging pumpkin guts everywhere as I dig into my first pumpkin. Winning!
As soon as I got home from work on Halloween, Nic and I headed to Wal Mart. We'd seen pumpkins there just days before and figured we'd get a steal on a pumpkin and the carving kit as they'd most likely be on sale. I must say, this made me very sad to think that our only recourse for getting a pumpkin was to go to Wal Mart. My heart ached for the roadside pumpkin picking of MI!
Tragedy of tragedies, Nic and I walked the entire length and breadth of our super Wal Mart only to discover that THEY DID NOT HAVE PUMPKINS ON HALLOWEEN DAY. Oh, but they were 2/3 of the way set up for Christmas, complete with fake trees and ornaments. I think that this is one of Texas' greatest flaws, that because they don't have seasons, they just rush through them irreverently and without respect.
Luckily, we have a Kroger down the street and I KNEW they'd have them as I'd just been by there days before. But what did we find? That Kroger too had no trace of Halloween decorations, let alone pumpkins. At this point, panic was setting in for me. We had one last spot to check before despairing. The HEB across the street. Surly, if they had organic versions of every herb/vegetable imaginable, they'd still have pumpkins.
Well folks, Here Everything ISN'T Better.
They did have pumpkins, of a sort. They had "pie pumpkins" which were very small and barely worth their $5 to use for carving. But they did have these massive pumpkins, which would have worked just fine, for $25 each. Well, I was not about to pay $25 for an over-sized pumpkin, even if it was organic! I reasoned that with the trends of the other stores, there was no way that this store was going to sell all five of these giant pumpkins for $25 each.
Time to try out my mad haggling skills. I told Nic I was prepared to take these drastic measures for a pumpkin, but I'm not sure he believed me until I was dragging him to find a manager.
Two managers and a checkout girl later and I am trying to work my hard-earned Hillsdale rhetoric skills on a Latnio manager. I explain that we are willing to pay $10 for a pumpkin and that I doubt she will sell all of them for full price before they are rotten.
"I'm sorry, but I don't have that power" she tells me.
BS. I've worked in retail and know that for customer satisfaction you can make these kinds of calls.
'"Fine. Then we're not getting anything" I reply and storm off with Nic. Perhaps I should have swore loudly in Spanish, then maybe she would have taken me more seriously.
Back at our apartment, I was pouting in the kitchen when Nic came to my rescue. He was holding this mini pumpkin, which was partially spray painted gold, that we had taken from my work's Golf Tournament weeks before as fall decoration. I mean, this thing barely qualified as an over-sized gourd. But, Nic assured me we could still carve our Harry Potter pattern into it.
Score, hubby!
Me, after my rum and coke and Nic's optimism has me feeling a little more...festive :)
I'm a little over enthusiastic about the pumpkin seeds we're saving to bake. And check out the Harry Potter we had playing while we carved, yup, we're just that into themes ;)
Nic looks practically jolly as he disembowels our wittle pumpkin.
Our original pattern had Harry's whole torso with wand in hand...but we could only fit his head on our mini pumpkin
Despite this look, Nic did not partake in the rum and coke that night
Ta-da! Check out Harry's cranium!
Thanks to my creative husband we were able to have a smashing Halloween together. We had an adventure that now makes for a fun story.
Stay turned for a post about this weekend's trip to the Texas Renaissance Festival!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)