High Speeds

About a week and a half ago, I was at the mall with my little sister and some of her friends. We had been looking for dresses for them to wear to the Wildwood evening party thing, and had been taking lots of pictures and having a hilarious, albeit exhausting, time. We finally collapsed and ate a late lunch at the food court, sitting down right across from the new Borders store. There was a small crowd hanging around: getting pictures with the Stormtroopers or Rams cheerleaders, etc., etc, for the purpose of raising money for FirstRead. And they also had. . .a speed reading contest. As we sat there eating, I listened to people try to read one of three books out loud as fast as they could. Turning to Julia, I remarked, "I could so beat them."
Julia quirked her eyebrows at me, and with that mischievous gleam that's always in her eyes remarked, "So try. I dare you." I made the usual protestations, but I already knew what my answer was going to be.

As I finished eating, I continued reconnaissance, noting that people did best with "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish." They had a white board with the current high score, 87. I assumed that was words per minute. I suffered a slight shock when I discovered that it was actually "words per 15 seconds." All of a sudden 87 began to look hard to beat. Still, I was confident in my abilities, and I knew I would never forgive myself if I lost this opportunity. After all, isn't how fast I talk one of the first things people mention about me? Don't little kids, slightly more blunt than their elders, announce "You talk too fast"? Surely this is my niche, my talent, my area of expertise! So I went up to the table area, and ever desperate for someone new to read, I was quickly encouraged to try.

Now, I love talking. I guess what I really ought to say is, I love attention. Nevertheless, I am always slightly nervous when I get up in front of people. So it was with some trepidation as well as exhilaration that I began to read. The words spilled out, and I blessed Dr. Seuss for giving nice flowing sentences that rhyme. I allowed the words to carry me along, and it was hard to screech to a stop at the end of 15 seconds (though probably a good thing, as I needed to breathe). There was silence, and as they only announce a new record I was terrified that I had done, well, terribly. Come on, come on I thought. Then one of the ladies reached out to erase the score on the board, and another said "Well! It seems we have a new record." The numbers took shape: 107.

YEEESSSS! I felt like yelling inside, though outwardly I was shaking. I think I was probably grinning like an idiot. The contest was set to go on for another twenty minutes, so the lady suggested that I come back then, as, she said, they would probably have a trophy for me. So Julia, Julia, Lauren and I killed some time, and then came back. I looked worriedly at the board, but my score still held. As they browsed through books in the store, I went out five minutes before the contest ended to wait around. The really friendly lady smiled to see me again, said something to the coordinator, and beckoned me over. "If you don't mind, I'd like for you to read again," she said. "To see if you can beat your high score." Flattered, I agreed. Still, what if my score went down? That would be embarrassing. But I swung into it, glad to have another chance. This time, I reached 120 words! When the girls came out I felt deviously happy, as I was sure they would think it was someone else's score and come comfort me, so that I could tell them that it was actually mine. I'm telling you, I really am a selfish person. After yet another attempt, I topped off at 123 words in fifteen seconds.

Well, all I won was a little plastic trophy with a matchbox car on top and a computer printed sticker saying "Borders 1st Place" (or something like that), but that's okay. I left feeling very proud of myself, and wondering how I could turn this into a career (lol). Maybe I can't sing, maybe I have no sense of rhythm, maybe I'm terrible at sports, but hey, at least I can read really really fast. So there. ;)

16 Inches

Last Friday Mizzou announced its first snow day in eleven years. My roommate woke me up at eight that morning with the words "I think school might be cancelled." Somehow those words brought me awake faster than my alarm ever does. I checked my email, and yes indeed, school was cancelled. "Awesome." I thought. So I called Lukas to share the good news and then went back to bed.

I got up for the second time and meandered down to eat a sort of brunch. Unfortunately, the snow had interrupted the delivery of Krispy Kreme donuts, and just about every other food source. So I had cold cereal.

Now, the problem with snow days is that when school is cancelled there is usually a reason. I found this out as I tried to make my way to the parking garage. Somehow I was under the misconception that snow did not enter parking garages, a notion that was quickly dispelled when I saw the large drift behind my car. Still, I managed to get the car out, and by 11:30 Lukas and I had all our stuff loaded. At this point Mike calls, asking if we want to hang out and watch a movie. Sorry, I tell him; we're headed home. "How are you going to get to St. Louis with the highways closed?" he asked. Uummmmm, I respond.
Since sources varied as to what state exactly the highways were in, we decided we might as well kill a few hours hanging out at Mike's apartment. But I was loath to park the car in the garage again, and wade off campus in sixteen-inch snow. So I came up with the "brilliant" idea to try and park in Trowbridge, the huge field-like parking lot right of campus.

The road into Trowbridge was clear enough, but going through the lanes began to get a bit sticky. I felt very sorry for people whose cars were parked here all night; getting those out would be impossible. But I see a lovely spot that some Jeep or something managed to pull out of, leaving it perfect for me to pull into. Or so I thought.

I head for the spot (only three down in the row) and all of a sudden I'm not going anywhere. I push harder on the gas, and hear the smell of burning rubber. I look at Lukas and Marcus. "Um, I think we're stuck." I had grounded the car on a huge patch of ice and snow.

The boys tried to push the car, with zero success. Lukas suggested just leaving it, and going to Mike's. I flatly refused to leave my lovely car somewhere where it could be hit or towed. So they hiked off to Mike's to see about getting a shovel, while I stayed with Lirael (that's our car's name).

They came back a bit later, plastic bags flapping around their ankles as makeshift boots. Mike and Mark came along to help, and Mike (bless him!) had two ramps to help get the car out. With the five of us (plus two ramps!) we got the car out after about forty minutes.

But the adventure doesn't end there, oh no, not at all. While this saga was unfolding, there were other people attempting similar feats. Some kids in a jeep came and went, but the two guys in this one car were trying with no success during the time we were getting our car out (maybe that's cuz they only had one guy to push, while the other had to steer). The poor guy pushing looked enviously at our ramps, and asked if he could borrow them. So, after we had Lirael safe and sound, we started working on digging their car out. Even with seven of us now (plus the ramps!) it was another hour before we had anything resembling success. Another girl in an SUV offered to tow the car; that only resulting in her getting stuck as well (though she was able to get out after detaching the other car). Then a group of eight more guys showed up, and we practically lifted the car out.

So Lukas and I finally left Columbia at about 2:30, both very tired, cold, and hungry (plus I had the additional burden of feeling stupid). The highways were terrible--covered in snow and ice. We were going about 25 when the speed limit is normally 70. We go about ten miles, and all of a sudden I here this ding! and a message comes up that says "Check tire pressure." With my typical OCD finesse, I completely panicked. I envisioned that we had somehow managed to puncture all four tires; that we would be stuck in the middle of nowhere, etc, etc. The ride to Kingdom City (the next main town, about twenty minutes from Columbia) was grim. When we got there, we stopped a gas station and filled up the car. Of course my credit card's magnetic strip wouldn't work, which is a whole different story. Meanwhile Lukas had called my dad to ask how to check the air pressure in the tire. To make a long story slightly less torturous than what we endured, I had to go back and buy a tire gauge, which proved that, yes, indeed, our tire were low. We eyed the air pump with uncertainty; it was hardly plowed and we had just come from hours stuck in the snow. "Not again," I groaned. We make it to the pump, and it’s frozen solid, of course. The instructions told us to stick it into the tail pipe to warm it up. "That can't be right," I tell Lukas. Of course, my knowledge of exhaust pipes is limited to vague horror stories of carbon monoxide poisoning. We finally get it warmed up, but after "filling" them up, Lukas realizes he didn't do it correctly. So we have to go back into the gas station to clarify. When we come back out: the pump is frozen again. Arrrgg! So we repeat the entire process.

Finally we're back on the road, and starving at this point. We tried stopping at the McDonalds next to the gas station--which was completely closed. Finally, about half an hour down the highway we find an exit with a McDonalds. We exit, and find that all the stoplights are down and police are directing traffic. Could we hit any more bad luck?!?!?

Since I can't torture you all with any more detail (I've had to write this in three sittings), I'll just sum it up by saying that we finally got home, safe and (mostly) sound at 5:30. That's later than it would have been had we had classes. I'm not sure what the moral of this story is; maybe "Lee Anne is a misadventure magnet," "Determination alone will not get your car over sixteen inches of snow, or even " always bring food in the car." Or I could jut leave it open to interpretation.

Joining the Dinosaurs

Well, I'm back from break, and let me just say that is so positively *wonderful* to be back slogging through classes. If you failed to catch the irony of the last sentence, let me make that even plainer: coming back from thanksgiving break STINKS. Oh well. Seven days of classes plus finals week left. Not that I'm counting or anything.

Thanksgiving break was pretty much the normal state of hecticness that is my life. For that weekend before Thanksgiving, my mom and I flew down to South Carolina to see my grandma. It was good to see her again, and sweet to spend time with her, but sad, too (she has Alzheimer’s). My mom spent the weekend cleaning out her room and closet, and I spent it lugging the tons and tons of trash and junk mail out to the dumpster. Not exactly exciting blog material. (Except for getting creative so that the doors wouldn't lock me out).

Still, one funny thing did happen. One of the evenings, when my mom and I were out getting some food (since her choices are limited because of that terrible no-wheat-celiac-disease-stuff) I begged her to let us stop by Blockbuster and rent a movie or two. "Like, let's get a grown up chick flick" I begged. "Maybe one rated R? Like we can't watch at home?" "Why?" she asked. "Becaaaause," I responded. "We can't watch it at home." Duh.

[Side note: I did NOT want a movie for what I term "icky romance." I wanted a good movie with a higher rating because we can't watch those with my younger sisters, as I'm sure you can guess how well THEY take being left out.]

Like the kind and loving mother she is, my mom agreed. I ran in to Blockbuster, my brain furiously working to figure out what I could find in two minutes (our food was already in the car).
I had one of those moments when it's like the ground positively shifted under my feet.
I mean, seriously, it was one of those times when your frame of reference completely collapses. Aliens walking through the door would have been less surprising.
Because as I looked around, I realized to my horror than every single video was on DVD.

Now, I suppose I should explain. My mom and I were staying in the "independent living" home's guest room. A room that was equipped with one set of silverware, two plates, no glasses, a kettle for decoration only, lots of random and weird trinkets, and a TV and VCR. So, for the first time I needed something on VHS and realized to my shock that they were. . .extinct.

I swear, it was like one of those moments from the movies, where the hero glances around as the camera spins, revealing bad guys emerging from every alleyway. Every single DVD seemed to leap out with unnatural clarity as I searched in vain for a nice, fat, comfortable VHS tape.

So, my mom and I went back and watched a Disney Channel movie. I'm not sure rather to laugh or tear my hair out. The one time away from my little sisters, and I watch their favorite station. Really, life is ironic.

Happy Meals and College

I have to say, I think I’ve now lost any remaining dignity that I had. Ordering a Happy Meal hamburger plain on a college campus with no kid in sight is embarrassing enough; having to ask for a different toy is utterly humiliating. Now, I will defend my right to order a Happy Meal no matter what my age is; I like the portion sizes (except for the drink) and somehow it doesn’t feel as wrong still eating plain hamburgers when it’s just a kid’s meal. Plus, they’re a whole lot cheaper.
But it is truly a lowering experience to request a different toy. Now, I may still be childish, child-like, and possibly immature, but it is NOT true that I order Happy Meals for the toys. Usually. As it so happens, if the toy seems decent then I drag it home and give it to Clara. Usually she’s indifferent, occasionally Julia will be impressed (case in point: Yoshi ball-popping figure), but it’s better than throwing it away. (Once, recently, the lady asked me if I wanted a toy. I said no, of course. What, am I supposed to admit to clinging with my every breath to a McDonald’s toy?) Anyhow, last week I found one of the Barbie Twelve Dancing Princesses in my kids meal. Dutifully, I brought it home to Clara.
Rarely has she more surprised me with an outpouring of complete and ecstatic happiness. She squealed in delight and jumped up and down hugging me. Now, even when I BUY her toys, I don’t get that response. Apparently she had so wanted one of those toys, but she hadn’t been taken to McDonalds, and by the time she had, they had moved on to “Flushed Away” toys. Of course I thoroughly enjoyed being the loved older sister, and I basked in her affection.
So, when it came time this week to go back to McDonalds, I ordered a happy meal and hoped fervently for a different princess (after all, there are twelve of them). Imagine my unpleasant shock when I opened the bag and found . . .a hot wheels toy. What to do? The lines were getting long (side note: this McDonalds really does provide “fast food” as they have lines to the door during the between-class rush) and I hated trying to get someone’s attention. Plus, there was that whole issue of a twenty-year-old asking for a Barbie happy meal toy. Embarrassment warred with the ego-boost I’d get from making Clara happy (I really am a very selfish person). I hesitated at the counter for a minute or two, then quickly asked for the toy when one of the workers had half a second. The exchange was made. I left with cheeks flaming, but a sense of accomplishment and triumphant.
Then I went to get a flu shot, and well, that’s a different story entirely.

Rain, Tea, Muffins, and Emma

On Saturday, Lukas, Marcus, Arianna (a freshman who lives a floor below us), and I all met for lunch and went to Wal-Mart (it's sad when that's the only thing exciting in your whole week). It was pretty much your average shopping trip, except that it was raining steadily. I was (of course) the only one with an umbrella. It's a very cute umbrella: it's medium pink, with flowers and cherries on it--but NOT garish--it was a Brighton gift with purchase (okay, so technically it's my mom's, but she's quite generous). It's also one of those one-person umbrellas: so of course Arianna and I shared it. The boys, Lukas especially, were most infuriating. He had the gall to insist that it wasn't even raining. I beg your pardon, but when one can see raindrops falling for the sky quite continuously in all directions, my understanding is that it is, indeed, raining. Granted, it was not pouring, but it was more substantial than a drizzle, which is the definition of raining, in my opinion.

After going to Wal-Mart, we had just gotten back when it was time to go over to Mike's to watch Emma. I have to say, it's quite funny watching a chick flick (or a chick classic?) with only guys. Lukas had seen most of the movie before, Marcus had read the book (but not seen the movie) and Mike didn't know any of it. Anyhow, a raining Saturday afternoon is the perfect time to watch a Jane Austen movie and knit, which I proceeded to do until Lukas made me turn out the light because of the glare. Mike, who's quite the cook, had made bran muffins from scratch, and they were very delicious. We he suggested tea a few minutes later, of course we took him up on the offer.
This is where the real fun begins. Mike didn't have any mugs, so my tea was in a glass cup, Lukas' was in some random drink container, and Marcus--get this--had to drink out of a crystal gravy boat. It was quite a humorous situation, considering that Marcus had never had tea before (I know you're all gasping in horror), we were all advising him about whether he should add sugar or honey, the importance of adding milk to english breakfast tea (but NOT to fruit teas), and asking him how it was. Of course, as he's never had tea before he couldn't quite answer our inquiries as to whether he needed more sugar, etc.
The best part was when we got back and unpaused the movie. I had remarked to Mike how perfect tea and muffins were for watching Emma, and he responded with his typical surprised response of "Really?/." sounding quite pleased. And no sooner did we unpause the movie, than the next line was "I think we should stop for some tea." LOL, you should have seen our faces. It was such an awesome moment. I love Jane Austen. And tea. And muffins. And friends. And even brothers.

Oh, the lovely J-school (sarcasm dripping)

Hmmm. . . so much (and yet less than nothing) has happened. Right now I can't even remember half the things I meant to post on here, and so much of that is obsolete already anyway. Let's see. . .

This week has been the j-school-takeover-of-my-life-week. In addition to regularly scheduled classes, we were sent on TWO fieldtrips. Class meets MWF, but we were made to clear our schedules on Tuesday from 3-5 and Thursday from 5-7 (not including traveling time), drop everything else, and go running at the j-school's beck and call. Not to mention that a) they expected us to get to these places ourselves b) didn't deign to give us directions, and c) told us to find our own transportation. GRRRR! I know several classmates who had to get out of other classes twice in the same week (wince) just to make it to the stupid visits to the Missourian and KOMU. What's more, our teacher showed up, left a sheet for attendance, and then went to his own classes! (he's a grad student) It's so insane!

The Missourian visit was completely pointless anyway. Almost all of us (if not all) had already had the tour when we visit campus, and the people were too busy trying to actually put out the newspaper to really show us around. We sat in on their budget meeting (what stories are going where), which was way too small of a room to accommodate us anyway. Then we were shoved from one student guide to another, most of which were only two happy to find someone else to take care of us. All in all a pointless waste of time and general disaster.

The visit to KOMU (the campus owned NBC affiliate TV station) went a little better (but not much). Kate and I decided to carpool, and headed off (with her driving, thank goodness) in what we assumed was the right direction. Thankfully we found it, but as soon as we saw the station we turned too soon, and ended up on a one lane road with cows. We had to turn around, go across the highway again, and take the next turn. Once again our teacher announced that he had somewhere to be, and left. Only two of the class were broadcast students, so for most of us it was pointless anyway. Our student guide (poor guy) had never given a tour before, so overall he did a good job. Only none of us cared to be there, and he kept asking if we had any questions, as we looked at him bleary eyed and wished to go home. We got there at 5, and were going to sit in on the 6 o'clock news, so he had an hour to kill. Unfortunately there was not that much to say. So we someone new came in halfway through he decided to start all over again (groan).

Sitting in on the actual news was interesting--for the first five minutes. The newsroom is actually very small; the anchor's desk is really tiny, and the weather stuff is all in this side corner and parallel wall. It's like four mini corner rooms in one. The three cameras-robot things are fully automated; they move around by themselves for each shoot. So one just takes off and moves across the room when it's time for weather. We (the 20 of us) were all given those plastic lawn chairs and sat (mostly) out of the way. Some people had to move when the sports section was up, because that's on the back wall close to where we were sitting. They didn't even bother to tell us to be quiet, just assumed we knew it (foolish on their part, I say). The red light just goes on, and then all you can hear is the anchors' talking. We they cut to a video clip or commercial, that's heard and shown on a TV, but it's weird because you can see the anchors, in person and on the screen, but only hear the sound from their actual voices. I'm not making any sense, am I? Anyhow, the whole time I was terrified that I'd drop something or sneeze. Not to mention being hungry and tired. And now, I was going to go home this weekend, but nooooo. We have to do a video interview with a partner, and they gave us the cameras on Friday and want them back Monday. And all this is for one three hour class!!!!! It's insane, I tell you.

Dark M&Ms and Zombie Nights

I have just made ( to use one of Kaelen's words) the most splendiferous discovery. I was at the Mizzou bookstore, looking at the candy isle (it was an island, after all) when I saw a purple wrapper on the bottom shelf. Looking closer, it proved to be (drum roll please)--DARK CHOCOLATE M&MS!!!!!!!! Aaaahhhh, heaven. I can't ever begin to describe how ecstatic I was (then again, if you know me you can probably guess). Mmmmm. Needless to say, I have had the most delicious week.

Last Tuesday was Lukas' birthday, and to celebrate that evening we played one of his new boardgames, Mall of Horror, and watched The Mummy, which Luke D. and Lindsay had never seen before. The game was actually quite fun, despite the gruesome cover and slogan "chop till you drop." Each player has 3 characters, and you are all stuck in a mall with Zombies attacking. The game ends when only 4 characters are left (or six in a six player game). Whichever player's characters are worth the most wins. So basically you want to put yourself in a position where the Zombies won't get you but instead will get the other players. We played it again twice last night (by "we" I mean Lukas, Luke, Marcus, Mark, Jason, and myself). I won both times (slightly superior smirk). The second time I had all three of my characters left! (Of course, that could be because Luke and Lukas formed a powerful alliance which eventually made us so mad that everyone obliterated them).

Right now I'm trying to steel myself to write a lovely journalism paper that is due tomorrow. >:( I so dislike the J-school.

Illusions

Well, my obsession of the past two weeks has been the movie The Illusionist, about which all I can say is GO SEE IT and don't read any reviews of it first. Trust me on this one. :) On a similar note, I've been thinking about some of the illusions I've had that have been shattered already this year.

Illusion #1: Dining hall food may not be great, but at least it's edible
Reality: One of my friends found a bug in her noodles. Ugh! So much for "decent."

Illusion #2: It's the beginning of the 4th week of class, and there hasn't been a fire alarm drill. Maybe I missed it!
Reality: The siren will go off two minutes after you get back Sunday night.

Illusion #3: Doing your work ahead of time pays off
Reality: You'll go to find that paper you wrote two weeks ago, only to open the document and find only the title and first sentence. Because you wrote it two weeks ago, you can't even look it up "recent documents" for any other drafts. You also returned the textbook and the bookstore is closed. Panicking, you'll email your T.A., and then find the search bar on your computer, bringing up the real document, which somehow ended up with a journalism name for a history paper. Seriously. Working ahead isn't worth the drama.

Illusion #4: It's a good idea to clean out your refrigerator.
Reality: My mom cleaned out the refrigerator this past Thursday, and Lukas and I were completely shocked by a) the shininess b) the cleanness and c) the emptiness. "Wait! There's no FOOD!" we wailed. But the real lesson was still to come. My parents, Lukas, and I were all in the dining room playing Princes of Florence, when Clara waltzes in proclaiming, "Guess what? I climbed in the refrigerator and closed the door!" We stared openmouthed for a second, alternating between shock, worry, fear, and hilarity. "How'd you get in?" "And how in the world did you get out?" "Wait, you fit in there?" "Oh great, now I've got to sanitize the whole thing." Aaargh. The joy of little sisters. Honestly, that girl scares me to death. My mom and I agreed that we'd count it as a success if we manage to just keep Clara alive. So, beware: don't clean out your refrigerator.

Keyed Up

Well, my blog seems to be having some issues lately, so hopefully someone will be able to read this. To those of you who can't read this, you might want to try re-saving it to your favorites. (This advice is completely worthless, since if you can read this, you don't need to.)
Despite feeling all alone, my faithful bloggers separated by the huge and unforgiving realm of internet errors, I am actually quite happy. Hmm, let me rephrase that. Despite lack of sleep, a predominance of journalism classes and Bio readings, and a tendency to forget myself playing FreeCell, I am enjoying a fairly satisfactory time at college. Don't despair, however, readers (or non-readers, as the case may be). I am still having quite the usual numbers of misadventures, misdirections, and general mix-ups.*
After a first week of school that dragged on and on and on and on and on, I was looking forward with great anticipation to the weekend. Most of it was filled with the inevitable school assignments, but I did have a chance to watch two movies with my roommate and brother. The first was The Skeleton Key (hence the first “key” event of the weekend). It was creepy (okay, so I don’t do even slightly scary movies well), and even though Luke D. and I saw most the plot lines coming, we still were surprised by the ending. It’s rare that a movie can catch you off guard, but this one did. Even though almost all our guesses were correct. And the atmosphere still managed to be chilling, even with Lukas and Luke making fun of it. Their sarcasm was only slightly dampened by the glares Ginny and I threw their way, but then again it was too dark for them to really see them.
The other movie that we watched was Tristan + Isolde, which I am not going to discuss here, except to say that the best part was when King Mark is arguing with Melot in the background and says “I’m SICK of your moaning!” LOL, some things never change.
Now, some of you may know of my history with trying to lock/unlock doors. For specific instances, I will only bring to mind three.
1) In Spain, none of us could ever unlock the hotel doors in Madrid (they would have confounded Houdini himself). We actually had to ask for help from the man at the front desk and get him to unlock it for us. (Except for Lukas and Jim. They had to get help because they had actually looked their keys in the room.)
2) This summer, Lukas and I (and Julia and Max and Clara) came back earlier than my parents from something, only to realize that we couldn’t get into the house. After an hour of waiting, leaving, coming back, and still waiting for them, it turns out we had a key all along. The lock just sticks.
3) The locks in Scotland are worse than the locks in Madrid. Nuff said.

So it must come as no surprise that my college dorm room has a temperamental lock. For starters, unlocking/locking the door is always the reverse of what one would expect. This confusion would eventually go away, were it not confounded with other problems. The lock hates us, and sticks all the time. Apparently the keys hate us too, for Ginny managed to lose hers. After going down to dinner one day, we returned to find that we could not open the door with my key. Several minutes of trying everything (including hitting the door and begging) produced no result. Finally it opened, and we realized that with it sticking AND being reversed, we were confusing locked and unlocked.

Hopefully these tales of woe will teach you a lesson. It is too late for me, but perhaps I can still save someone else. Never, ever get on the bad side of locks (seriously, I must have horribly offended them by chewing on plastic keys as a baby), and make sure you have your AAA card with you at all times. And a cell phone.



*If you notice some differences in my style, I must excuse it on the basis of time spent with a new friend, Amelia Peabody. I have been happily enthralled listening to her adventures, and some of her tone seems to have rubbed off on me. (If you have never had the opportunity to be acquainted with Ms. Peabody, I strongly recommend the friendship. You can find her memoirs at your local library or bookstore under the aegis of Elizabeth Peters.)

A Teenager No Longer

Well, I meant for my next post to be more about Scotland, but since I am a horrible procrastinator, I figured I should just jump back to the present and catch up when I have time (haha). Today is my 20th birthday! Weird. I'd be . . .like. . .on the shelf (in a regency novel). Or maybe that's 21. I just cannot think of a better way to spend my birthday than running back and forth to class in the heat, dripping sweat (and sarcasm). Oh well; at least I stopped at the poster sale and got a new LOST poster for my room. :)

So far my classes seem pretty normal; I have the intensive class (Spanish every day), the boring class (Bio 1010), the very boring class (News 2100), the fun class (19th Century British Women Writers), and the so-easy-it's-an-insult-to-my-intelligence class (Am History). I just had American history today, and got a chance to look at the syllabus. The only assignment for the entire semester is one four to five page (double spaced) paper. I feel like I'm back in kindergarten (except I never actually went to kindergarten). I think I almost laughed out loud when I saw that. I suppose I could/should switch to the Honors section. . .or I could use the free time to get a job. Or just read more fiction books.

Overall my new roommate and I are getting along well. She talks (if possible) more than I do. It's somewhat exhausting. Still, we're having a pretty good time together. I could use prayer, though. She's a Deist, and something of a skeptic, but she did go with me to the RUF picnic last night. Also last night we spent over two hours taking "which character would you be" personality tests (not my fault--she started it (even if I was an active participant)). Apparently I'm most like the monkey from Pirates of the Caribbean. :P She says I'll never live that one down. Makes you wonder what depths I’m really hiding. . .heehee

Culloden

Yesterday I stood upon the battlefield of Culloden.

It was a nice warm day--unseasonably warm, in fact. There was a nice breeze (as always), the panoramic view was lovely, and the cars made soft swooshing sounds as they drove by. All around me stretched a three-foot high jungle of brush, thistles, and generally tangled and prickly plants. I was standing on the spot of one of the most famous and bloody Scottish battles, surrounded by the sounds of tourists laughing. I couldn't help but thing how wrong it all was.

Where were the specters of ghostly warriors? Where was the chill fog blowing off the barrows? I wanted to close my eyes and see, overwhelming the present light atmosphere, the sight of two armies arrayed for battle. I wanted to kneel at the stone where a brave Scottish captain died and, just for a moment, mourn the keening loss of that life. I wanted to be jolted out of my apathy, to feel—what? anything else: horror, grief, the weight of history pressing upon me.

Even as I went through the motions of a sightseer (snap a picture; pause, read a signpost; meander on), I wanted my cold, selfish heart to break with the tragedy of this place. Or maybe even that was selfish. Maybe all I really wanted was to have an experience; to feel the ghostly fingers of the past brush my shoulder for a moment; giving me a vision, setting me apart.

Yesterday I stood upon the battlefield of Culloden, and it failed to touch my spirit. I walked off the field, excited at the prospect of a gift shop.

End-of-the-year awards

Apart from finals (and 3 science papers), my freshman year is over. So I wanted to do kind of a fun wrap-up of some of my new favorite and least favorite things. Well, and I'm trying to avoid those science papers.

Best Part of College: Swiping My Student Card Everywhere

Worst Part of College: Bad Weather

Best Dining Hall Meal: Grilled Cheese and Vanilla Coke

Least Favorite Things: Fire Alarms and Tornados

Favorite New Item: My Watercolor Colored Pencils

Least Favorite Accusation: "Eowyn is a gold digger"

Favorite New Book: The Hollow Kingdom by Clare B. Dunkle

Least Favorite Book: Microcosmos

Favorite New Authors: Sharon Shinn, Patricia Briggs

Least Favorite Campus Buildings: Geology, all the J-buildings, Middlebush (all far away)

Favorite Campus building: Conservation (closeness)

Favorite New Singer: Loreena McKennitt

Best Part of Having a Mac: itunes; Expose

Worst Part of Having a Mac: Lack of games; Windows-based Discrimination

How to tell if you're a college student (bonus: do you go to Mizzou?)

8 Ways to tell you're a college student (or at least think like one)

1.You believe that pedestrians have the right to cross at any time and any in any place they desire (with or without crosswalk)--unless you're the one driving
2. You know that teacher evaluations are there merely to create a façade of student empowerment
3. Naps and pizza at midnight are not deviance, but social norms
4. You brave weather to get to class that Columbus, Magellan, or even a postman would quail at
5. Facebook is not a site, it's a way of life
6. You think that ipods are natural appendages of the body
7. You eat all your meals at a dining hall
8. You follow any flyer that promised to lead to "free food"


Are you at Mizzou? Five easy ways to find out

1. You can't walk to class without seeing someone setting up a newscast
(aka journalists to people ratio : 14 to 1)
2. You not only have your school song, chant, and mascot, but your own ice cream flavor
3. Kansas= Nemesis
4. The campus library is a labyrinth
5. You are standing next to a sign that says "University of Missouri Columbia"

Rain and Beleriand

Today it was raining all morning. Not just drizzling, but really raining. The cobbles and sidewalks of Mizzou are obviously not prepared to deal with a downpour of this magnitude (I know, I know: it's Missouri; they should be used to it) and turned everything into a lake-marshland-pond-area. All the pollen stuff that they trees have been dropping make very convincing algae, too. I had carefully wrapped my backpack in my raincoat before slinging it onto my back, so the priceless artifacts inside (read: LotR dvds to return to a friend) were safe. But even with these precautionary measures, and my small but cheery brighton pink umbrella, my shoes, socks, and bottom half of my capris were soaked by Econ class. So I trudged around all day in wet socks. Just what a person recovering from an ear/sinus infection needs.

On a more happy note, on thursday my Tolkien class is putting on an impromptu play from a script that a local highschool student wrote-- based on the Tolkien story Of Beren and Luthien (or the Lay of Leithien, or whatever name you want to call it). Apparently he is quite thrilled that college students will be performing his play, even if it is just in class and without any run-throughs. I am totally excited (even if I'm just playing the queen and have 3 lines) and I'm already thinking ahead to a yearly Tolkien Extravaganza in which we make it into a real play. Actually, I'm already planning for a movie deal, if you're interested. ;) I'm very excited to met this guy; finally a captive audience for me to recite the hour of Beren and Luthien stuff that I have memorized (evil grin). On another happy note, I won the little campus dining writing contest, and I now have a $300 gift card for next year. Sweetarts here I come!

So, yeah, things are wrapping up fairly nicely around here. Except for that dreaded Word-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named.

Sick

Ugh! [I cough, groan, and curl into a ball] I hate being sick. Yesterday after church I was at Walmart, getting some absolutely necessary supplies for a science project, and waiting on a bench for my friend to get out of late service and come pick me up. I had only had five hours sleep, and I had a headache, so I was not feeling the best. I remember that I forgot to get the glue, so I go back inside to buy it, and I start to feel dizzy. As I wait in line, there is a problem with the checkout in front of me, and as it goes on and on I feel like I'm going to pass out. When it's my turn, I slap down the glue (proud of myself for staying upright) and fumbling throw 3 dollars down. The cashier asks me if I have two pennies. Do I have two pennies? I can't even see my purse. I'm going to fall over and you want me to find some pennies? I manage to buy the glue and I rush to my bench, feeling horrendous. I second later I think I'm going to throw up. So I rush back through the store to the bathroom. I'm going to pass out on a wallmart floor. I can't believe this. I feel less nauseous after I get there, but now I'm all trembly. My face in the mirror is so white that my lips look bright red, even though I know they are cracked and dry.
My friend shows up after another half hour. We try to go to the student heath clinic, but it's closed on the weekends. I don't want to go to the emergency room, so she drops me off at my dorm. For the next few hours I toss restlessly in bed, calling home and telling my mom it's okay; she doesn't have to come up. Finally at four o'clock my mom convinces me to find someone to drive me to a clinic downtown that's open til five. Jason gets his car and drives me, and, after going the wrong way on Providence, we finally get there.
Then it's a lot of filling out forms, etc. The doctor comes in to see me, and does all that normal doctor-y stuff, asks me questions, etc. He makes me get up and try to walk putting one foot heal to toe in front of the other one. He tells me to hold my hands out, close my eyes, and touch my finger to my nose. I sit back down and wait breathless to see what he'll say (well, yeah.,. cuz breathing hurts). I'm almost afraid that they're is nothing wrong with me; that I've dragged everyone on a wild goose chase for nothing. Then the doctor says "You've got a sinus and ear infection" and goes on to explain to be how that throws my balance off, etc. Ohhh I think, I never would have guessed that. So he writes me a prescription, and off I go, dragging poor Jason to Walgreens. That took like 40 min (I miss my Kaye Pharmacy). But to end this sad tale of woe, I'm now on 3 different medicines: Meclizine (take three times a day), Amoxicillin (twice a day) and 12 hour Sudafed. Which I'm sure is more information than you ever wanted to know about my sickness. So, yeah, I’m still feeling miserable, but at least not as bad as yesterday morning; thanks to my mom's insistence that I take care of things right away. The road to recovery may not be fun, but at least it's better than staying in Sicktown.

Trudging through slush

Haha! I love this Zits comic (grin). Only one more week of classes to go! I want the time to zoom by, but then I realize just how much I'm supposed to do before then, and I try to coax it to go more slowly. Lately I've been feeling kind of tired--and I don't mean just physically (that's a permanent characteristic). I feel like spiritually I'm trudging through slush. I've started to realize just how much pressure living "in the world" puts on a Christian. It's not outright attacks: those would almost be easier to deal with. It's the pressure that builds up slowly: dealing with the divorce of science and religion in class, trying to argue for Biblical inerrancy on the Tolkien listserve, attempting to answer skeptical friends about how Christianity makes sense. It's all so. . .constant.

Not that I'm giving up or anything; I'm just starting to realize what a special haven the Christian community really is. I've also been thinking a lot about two different things I've read in the last semester that talk about this. One is a column by Joel Belz (published in World last fall),
Uphill all the way
I like the column especially because it reminded me of the other thing, a poem by Christina Rossetti (also called “Uphill”).

Does the road wind uphill all the way?

Yes, to the very end.

Will the day's journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.

But is there for the night a resting-place?

A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.

May not the darkness hide it from my face?

You cannot miss that inn.

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?

Those who have gone before.

Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?

They will not keep you standing at that door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?

Of labor you shall find the sum.

Will there be beds for me and all who seek?

Yea, beds for all who come.


This poem is most meaningful, though, when you have it’s opposite as well. I wasn’t planning on posting it too, but it’s so good; from the title to the last sentence, it makes me shiver. This one is called “Amor Mundi”

'Oh where are you going with your lovelocks flowing,
on the west wind blowing along this valley track?'
'The downhill path is easy, come with me an it please ye,
We shall escape the uphill by never turning back.'

So they two went together in glowing August weather,
The honey-breathing heather lay to their left and right;
And dear she was to dote on, her swift feet seemed to float on
The air like soft twin pigeons, too sportive to alight.

'Oh what is that in heaven where grey cloud-flakes are seven,
Where blackest clouds hang even just at the rainy skirt?'
'Oh that's a meteor sent us, a message dumb, portentous,
An undeciphered solemn signal of help or hurt.'

'Oh what is that glides quickly where velvet flowers grow thickly,
Their scent comes rich and sickly?' 'A scaled and hooded worm.'
'Oh what's that in the hollow, so pale I quake to follow?'
'Oh that's a thin dead body which waits the eternal term.'

'Turn again, O my sweetest, - turn again, false and fleetest;
This beaten way thou beatest, I fear, is hell's own track.'
'Nay, too steep for hill mounting; nay, too late for cost counting;
This downhill path is easy, but there's no turning back.'

Too Funny (Well, if you've read the Silmarillion)

Oh my, I love this illustrator so much! She has a whole series of comics about Boromir as a kid (they're in a Calvin & Hobbes style too). These are some of my (many) favorites. (To check out the rest, here's a link) LOL, the problems with little boys having early Middle Earth role models.
Well, I just spend the past weekend looking at Tolkien illustrations online. It was for school--honestly! So maybe I got a little too into it. But the presentation did give me a chance to use some of those many comics I've been storing up. Hmm, maybe I'll have to start posting some more of them (evil grin). I'll try not to overwhelm everyone with my very-avid- LotRfan-sense-of-humor.

The Craziest Bible Study Ever

This past Wednesday my Bible study met as usual at Plaza 900 (the "suave" dining hall) for dinner. It was such a nice evening that we decided to have Bible study on the Quad. On the way over, four of the six of us decide to take a detour through Conservation to visit the restroom. In the typical misadventuring spirit, we entered through a door that led either up, down, or through a locked office. So we decided to risk the ascent to the second level. Of course, this being a science building, all the doors had red "Warning: Hazardous Materials" signs. Such a fun place to be after hours. (One door even had a sign saying "Beware of Attack Butterfly." Brrr. Gives me shivers just thinking about it.) After this side trip (and looking suitably impressed by one members lobster red sunburn), we tramped off towards the Quad.
But the quickest way around Jesse hall was barred by some weird circus/play people, so rather than barge through the middle of whatever it was they were doing, we meandered around and cut through Jesse. We realized afterwards that just going around the other side would have been a lot faster. Oh well.
Finally arriving at the Quad (and skirting the typical guys playing football), we caught up with the other two girls and sat down. For a while, we focused on study (apart from the normal distractions: me tying grass stalks into a string, another girl slapping at a mosquito, etc.) All of a sudden, a girl stops her bike and comes to talk to us. She introducers herself, and after a bit of conversation, told us that she is a new Christian, but is intent on starting a huge revival at Mizzou, and were we interested in joining people in prayer. We all talked a bit more, and she left. Well, I for one raised my eyebrows, and we started discussing revival. Most of us were skeptical, but also felt a bit chastened that she, a younger Christian, was being so active. I'm still not sure that you can just start a revival that saves half the campus, but I suppose I should be the last one to say that's "impossible."

During everything that had happened, we had also noticed some other interesting characters wandering around on the Quad. This guy wearing a red polyester outfit was filming stuff while balancing on a Segway (one of those electric scooter things). The guy he was filming was ambling around, strumming his guitar. Not long after our first visitor left, they come up to us and say hi. He asks if he can sing a song for us, and we kind of dampened his hopes by replying that we're having Bible study. So he asks if he can sing a Christian song. "umm, okay" we tell him. 'Do you know 'By the River of Babylon" by Sublime?" he asks. We all just kind of stare at him, with a few chuckled mutters at "sublime" (I've never heard of that group before). We told him we didn't know that song, and there is this long silence. He walks back to the guy filming, and says to the camera in a dejected voice "they don't want to hear anything." By this point we're all kind of laughing quietly, but we can't really explain that we aren't laughing at him; we're laughing at his friend in the red suit. We look at each other, and decide that we can't be that mean; besides, we might not be showing good Christian behavior. So we say "Oh come on. you can play a song for us." We listen dutifully, and clap at the end of the song. Then they ask us, "hey can we have your permission to use you in our movie?" We give our consent, and they walk off to the other side of the quad.
Then Andrea looks at us, and says "You know, we have no clue what kind of movie they're making." This starts to sink in, and we have another discussion, where our imaginations jump to all kinds of horrible conclusions (rolls eyes).

A bit later, they are leaving and walk past us again. So we work up our courage, and flag the guy over. "So. . what's your movie about?" we ask slightly nervously. He graciously takes time to tell us about it. It's an independent film called "Homecoming," about 3 guys who graduate from Mizzou and come back five years later. "I play the failed musician" he tells us with a grin "So your reactions were great." Happy to oblige, we tell him. The rest of our time is spend talking about how we'll have to see it when it's shown on campus next year ( a big possibility).

I wonder if this happens to all Bible studies on the quad?

Over the river and through the woods

Well, I just got back from my last science field trip. ("Just" meaning I returned almost an hour ago, promptly got a shower, and have been posting messages for my Tolkien listserve.) We were taken out to a "Mystery Spot," so that they could dump us there and have us put all the Lovely Things we've been learning into action by coming up with a history (geological, topographical, etc) of the area. Actually, the spot was only two minutes away from campus (last time it was 20 minutes away plus a 12 minute hike in the woods to get there).

First off, we had presentations this morning in science. Our group (group #3) was. . .you guessed it! going to go third. Unfortunately we weren't the only ones who decided that Global Warming would be the easiest topic. So we sat through the first two presentations, and watched as they used our facts, our evidence, even some of the same diagrams and slides. Go figure. But here's the worst of it: each presentation was supposed to be 7 min long. Which means, with a 50 minute class period, there should be more than enough time for all five of the groups to go, even assuming the normal technological breakdown at the beginning. Both groups in front of us took 20 minutes. ARRGG! What do these people not get about a 7 MIN PRESENTATION???? Okay, so a little of that time was the tech problems, and questions after, etc., but each one was still like 17 minutes. I'm sorry, but that's way off. So we had to rush through ours, which, yes, did end up being around ten minutes with questions (NOT my fault, as any of you who have heard me present no doubt know. And this time I was trying to fly through the material). I hope the teachers don't blame us for lack of depth just because we stayed within the time limit. What a mess.

Anyway, back to our lab fieldtrip. Most of it was pretty normal; tripping on rocks, ducking under branches, trying to look intelligent while saying things like "Definitely looks like it was formed by karst" or "These crinoids point to the mississipian period" or "Oh look at the pretty flowers." And, of course, trying to cross a wide stream by hopping on rocks and waving one's arms wildly. But two moments stood out (well, besides the "yes, that IS poison ivy")

Sarah (one of my lab partners) and I had crossed the stream, when out from the woods comes. . .a yellow lab/golden something kind of dog. And it looked just like Walt's dog from LOST. Woah! This trip began to gain back my interest. Off it went racing into the woods (hmm, maybe we should follow it), but then there were two other dogs with it, and a minute later a woman walking past on the path higher up in the woods. Oh well. (Ooooh, wait, maybe she's an other! :0)

Second crazy happening was on our way down the cliff we were on top of back to the vans. No, nobody fell off, though goodness knows we probably deserved to. We weren't supposed to go near the edge (ha!) unless we were lying on our stomach. I sat quite a safe distance away, and I wished I was bold enough to pull out my fiction book. Okay, so I did get close to the edge (lying down, of course!) to take pictures, but it was for a good cause. Anyhow, we were at the edge of the dirt parking lot, when some girls see a snake and shrink back. Our teacher comes and blithely picks it up. It is, of course, dead. Well, we here a shriek behind us, and we find an even bigger snake, which one of the girls, in her haste to back away from the first one, stepped on. (Isn't that so like the way things work?) Unfortunately there is no moral behind this story; this snake was dead as well. Which leaves only the question of how they died. . .they didn't seem hurt at all. Then again, I was keeping a safe distance. But I bet the others did it.

Back Again. . .

I'd like to pretend that I have a good reason for not updating this in so long. But I don't really. I mean, I could mention lab reports, papers, extra credit assignments, Spanish homework, Tolkien presentations, etc (but I won't). I suppose the real reason is that nothing particularly hilarious/exciting/extremely crazy has happened to me lately. There's all the normal stuff, the fiction book read every two days or so, the afternoon nap, but nothing worth blogging about. Hmm, except for. . .


~This weekend I lost control of the Roman World to my brother, but my ally (Julia) and I consoled ourselves by remembering that chances are our descendants would no doubt steal it back at some later date.


~I had 17 books ready to be picked up at the library; the librarian asked me if I "wanted to check them all out at once." Huh? I requested them all, didn't I? I mean, I know some people must request a bunch, and then take a few at a time, but surely, surely, I do not look like one of the those people. I really need to make myself more known at the Sachs branch. Maybe I should go for the world record of books requested at one time. . .


~Some people I know are playing a really awesome game (I didn't look at the facebook group until too late). They're called the "MizzouMercenaries." I figured it would just be a paintball group or something, but what it really is is everyone playing gets a secret code name and a list of the real names of everyone else playing. Your goal is to tag people to learn their secret name. Once they get your name, you're out; but you can't tag people in class or in the residence halls. (wicked grin) It seems awesome.

Drama, Drama, LOST (to be chanted in the style of Duck, Duck, Goose)

Well, I'm back at college after Spring break, and I don't really know where to start. Maybe I should explain why my alarm didn't go off this morning, or why I missed my classes, or why I have four science group projects in as many weeks (not to mention two more lab reports), or why I have empty Dr. Pepper cans in my room or why. . . Or maybe I should start at the beginning. [Imagine swirly computer screens, or the whoosh! you hear in a LOST back-story. . . enough! You get the picture.]

It all started one pleasant spring day when my mother said to me,
"Lee Anne, how do you feel about giving Clara your room and sharing a room with Julia?"
Now, this did not elicit the response you might have expected; that is, screaming and sobbing as loudly as possible. Actually, I found the idea intriguing. The again, I'm an idealist and I find most ideas intriguing. Until I realize their practical implications. In any case, I consented, and decided the next step would be to convince Clara that this was all her own idea. So I promptly went to work (oh, reverse psychology is a beautiful thing!). It really didn't take much at all to convince her; after all, before I even left for college she came to me and, very seriously, told me that when I left she'd get my room and would probably take all my Aragorn posters down. Oh, the ingratitude! We set the date of the move for Spring Break.

Back to the present. Hurley comes running through the jungle. “Dude! An army of tree frogs are attacking Sawyer!” Oh wait. Wrong reality (though that wouldn’t be any weirder than anything else on LOST. . .) [Okay, you hear the whoosh! thing again. . .]

Spring break arrived, and we sat down to make our plans. One of our first actions (after Clara dumping all my stuff in the hall) was to go pick out wallpaper borders. My mom graciously drove us to an outlet, but I worried that she had ulterior motives. (Last time it took us six months to get her out of the wallpaper store. I had good reason to be scared). Thankfully, things went fairly smoothly, and we even got cherry slushies on the way home. Julia and I had picked out some awesome fantasy prints which we decided to structure the room around. (If you want to see the artist’s site, it’s http://www.dreamflierstudios.com) My dad suggested putting up a line of shelves for books all the way across the wall.

At this point Julia, Clara and I decided that we were smart enough to put up the wallpaper border in my (new) room by ourselves. Ha! Actually, it went pretty well, if you count loosing an exacto knife, knocking over a lamp, and falling through a folding chair as the minor events that they were. Not to mention decoding the directions, matching ends, finding out the exacto knife wouldn’t cut (before it got lost), dealing with corners (we didn’t cut the corners in a literal sense, though we probably did figuratively. . .), etc. Quite the experience. Still, I think we were done in less than 2 hours. For all of our fine workmanship, I think I’ve found another profession to cut off of my list.

Whew! Enough of the drama (though I can assure that their was plenty more that week). Julia and I now have a very awesome room with very amazing fantasy prints and a super long bookshelf, while Clara has wasted no time with her new room in turning it pink. Bound to happen, I suppose.

Now, I’m back at college, and not so happy to be here. After all, I should be at home playing Conquest of the Empire and beating out my family for control of the Roman world. And you ask me to study microbial evolution? Fat chance. Maybe I’ll just put on another LOST episode. . .

Aquí, Allí, Allá

Less than 24 hours until spring break starts!!!! Oh, I am so counting the hours. (Except that I dislike doing an unnecessary math. So I'm not really counting). I still have to finish writing a ten page paper, go to RUF, study for an exam, and write another lab report so I don't have to do it over spring break. Not to mention finishing over a hundred pages in a fiction book that I want to give back to someone before break and packing. As usual, it's the lab report that has me the most freaked out. I know they're not always as bad as my mind makes them out to be, and that it's "making a mountain out of a molehill." Only maybe change "molehill" to "extremely large badger hill" and that might be more accurate. Better yet, make that "bear cave." Oh look, we're back at mountain. Other random things that happened this week:

~I filled out a student survey, and one of the questions asked "how many books have you read for personal enjoyment this schoolyear?" The choices were something like 0-5, 6-10, 11-15, 15-20, 20+. "20+" is the highest choice they're gonna give me? Come on! That is not an adequate measurement of my reading interests.

~Today in science (yes, another lovely evolution lecture), the professor (this is my favorite professor of the four that teach this class) briefly mentioned that many evolutionists are divided into the gradualist and punctuated equilibrium camps. He said that the gradualists like to explain punctuated equilibrium as "evolution by jerks." It took me a minute, but I got it! LOL, that's awesome.

~At Bible study last night we shared prayer requests, and I realized again how thankful I am for my roommate. I have never been "sexiled" as one girl put it, and I don't think I would take it very well either. Sometimes college kids amaze me. (Did you know that like 78% have more than 5 drinks a day over spring break? I can't remember the exact statistic, but it's something like that. Crazy.)

Kindergarten Fan Girls. Oh boy.

As I've hopefully mentioned before, this semester our Sunday school theme is Little Pilgrim's Progress (it has a readers' theater setup like Narnia last semester). This past Sunday, one of our activities was splitting the kids into groups and having them dictate a letter of encouragement to someone who helps out at the church. After giving some suggestions, the four little girls in my group decided to write their letter/poster to the guy who plays Christian in our reader's theater. (On a side note, he played Edmund last semester, and try as I will that is how I will always think of him). The letter was your basic "Thank you for helping with the plays. You are a good friend" etc. I then turned it over to the girls to sign their name and decorate.

This is when it gets a little crazy. The again, anytime you have four little giggling kindergarten girls coloring on the same piece of paper, things are kind of bound to get crazy. They wrote "love" before their names, and obviously thought they were being scandalous. One even started to write "kiss", but she got as far as the "K" before I raised by eyebrows and the girl next to her turned it into a heart. Things continued in this vein for a minute or so: they drew hearts figures "kissing" (remember: this are kindergarten stick figures, so it's not as horrible as it sounds). I was mostly amused, I mean *really* the guy who plays Christian is a really cool dad, and for all their attempt to be bold it just looked like a cute little kid's thank you note. I had just told them to finish up, and started counting to five, when one of the girls wrote "you are hot." Okay, that was beyond enough. I grabbed the paper, wishing I had interfered about ten seconds sooner. They, of course, moved from giggling to rolling around laughing. Oh dear.

But while they had snacks I went ahead and finished writing the "Dear Chad' and the top, and went and gave it to him. I have to admit I was slightly embarrassed; after all, I was the "teacher." He, of course, thought it was really sweet. Then again, I left before he could read all of it. I marched back into the classroom and leaned conspiratorially over the girls' desks. "Hey," I said. "I just gave him the card." Complete and utter shock filled their eyes. Even though I had told them we were really giving people these cards, I don't think they believed me (grin of smug satisfaction). The looks on their faces were priceless. But it gets even better: a minute later Chad comes into the room and says "Hey, thanks for the card." He said it to the class in general (it's not like he knows them by name, and there were 25 kids there), but all four girls turn bright red and start giggling again (this time it was a bit nervous, though). LOL. I was torn between laughter at the whole situation and the shade of red I was pretty sure my face was turning as well. Hopefully they learned a lesson.
(I can just see them in ten years, drooling over Orlando Bloom. Then again, at their precocious rate, maybe that will be next month. What is the world coming to?)

Double Trouble

Well, for those of you who don't know, I've decided that going to one of the best journalism schools in the country isn't enough writing for me, oh no! I have to go off and add a second major in English (with an emphasis in creative writing) too. :P I never did learn when to quit. How did this come about, you might ask. Well, maybe you didn't ask, but I'm going to tell you anyway.

I think it started when I realized I would scream if I heard the word "democracy" one more time in my J1100 class. That, and the insistence that "there is no liberal media bias." All I do in that class is crossword puzzles. Journalism may be practical, but it bores me. So I started looking (and drooling) over the classes I could take if I got an English degree instead. What else lets you take Old English as your foreign language requirement? Not to mention classes in oral tradition and, of course, creative writing.

So, after long discussions with my parents, and the realization that journalism really would be helpful in the "real" world (while English seems more useful for surviving flaming dragons), my mom came up with the brilliant idea of a double major. I know I'd thought of that before, but never very seriously. So, now I'm in the process of filling out forms and finding out I have not one advisor now, but three (Journalism, Honors College, A&S). Oh, the joys of double majors.

If I'm honest though, the real reason I'm double majoring can be summed up in three words: St. Andrews, Scotland. Heehee, study abroad with English rocks.

A Typical Weekend: Poker, Asia, Tornados, and Wigs

Well, I've had a crazy kind of weekend. Friday I hung out with friends at Mark's place, watching people play Katamari Damacy, reading the prologue of The Hollow Kingdom to my friend Libby while people were playing katamari, and playing poker for money. (No, I am not getting sucked into the gambling underworld. We each put in $2 at the beginning, that's all).

Yesterday I went to an "International Fashion Show" at Jesse auditorium. It was three hours (three hours!) and it turned into more of a dance recital than fashion show. It was fairly fun, but I was really surprised: it was all Asian countries. What, can't European countries have fashion heritage too? Or South American or African for that matter? I hardly consider Japan, Taiwan, China, Korea, and India "worldwide." As one of my friends pointed out, it's probably because those countries are the ones with clubs here at Mizzou. Still! My favorite part was the one little toddler who was supposed to be part of a modeling "family" who ran crying off stage, was led back by his mom, who then left; of course, he started promptly crying again.

Today, as usual, I prepared to help out with my kindergarten sunday school class. But our reader's theater leader came running up, and asked me if I could play a part because they really really needed someone. Of course I was willing to oblige. ;) So, at the last second I was transformed into the evil "Self," minion of the Dark Prince. I got to throw flaming (okay, foam) darts at Christian, and wear a horrendous back wig. Oh, not to mention having a bunch of lines AND getting stabbed and running out of the room dying. What better part is there? I'm afraid I'm going to get typecast as the evil villain soon.

This afternoon I was awoken from my nap by my roommate tapping me, as the tornado sirens were going off. They herded all of us into our laundry room/basement. It was quite a tight squeeze. Actually, they had to put people in the first and second floor bathrooms, too. We were kept down there for quite a while. I almost finished my book and didn't have anything to read, either (horrors!). Such fun.

A Conspiracy Unmasked

This past weekend I went home, and being the rebellious person that I am, I planned on skipping my Monday classes so that I could stay with my family a little bit longer. Sunday night I started a new book at eleven o'clock, and I finished it slightly before two in the morning. My mom and I had planned on shopping the next morning, and I was (mostly) awake by nine-ish. So far so good. We left the house, me chattering despite my sore throat and hoarse voice.
All of a sudden my mom pulls into this parking lot and says "We're here." I look around me, not sure exactly where "here" is. All I can see are a lot of cars and the back of a brick building. I remember passing a church just a second ago, and I wonder if I'm meeting someone about my scotland trip, or something else or what? "Mom" I groan. "I can't talk to people. I'm sick and a wreck and I'm wearing that long lumpy polar fleece that you hate." I try to emphasize the sick part by sniffing loudly (well, I'm sure I at least thought of it). She smiled an enigmatic smile, which really should have warned me (but didn't) and I complainingly followed her into the building through a side door. We went up some stairs, and past a lawyer's office, some orthodontists' offices (Been there. Done that. So not going back.), and my mom stopped in front of a door labeled "Quest Diagnostics."
I'm pretty sure my eyes narrowed, and if I was some animal (or even as smart as some animals) I would have bolted for cover then and there. But, being I highly educated human, I merely noted "This isn't the mall." My mom reminded me that I needed to get tested for celiac's as she breezed into the clinic. "I thought you'd do better if you didn't have time to think about it," she commented, as if I needed reminding that the last time I had blood work done I fainted. (Hey, there were extenuating circumstances. I had been reading a book were a girl got sent back to the Middle Ages and almost instantly passed out from a plague. Think lovely thoughts.) I settled moodily into the chair feeling very betrayed.
"Calm down," my mom says. "Remember, last time you said you didn't want to know ahead of time." I said WHAT? Frankly, I have no memory of this admission, and I cannot believe that I would have betrayed myself so. Still, I have no memory of a lot of things that happen to me, so this is not all that unusual. Maybe next time I should have her get it in writing (ink is fine; it doesn't have to be blood. . .oh wait, blood. . .aaahhhh). I really really really hate having blood drawn. As I waited in the (where else) waiting room, I discovered that not only was my mom in on this plan, but my dad and Julia too! If it turns out Kaelen knew about it too I may have to consider moving to Australia.
Well, back we went to The Room, and I glared at my mom and made dire warnings, and she mentioned that I was turning green, and could we please not go down the me-fainting route again. Well, I didn't faint, but I insisted that it was only because the lady was good, and that's not something you can count on. In any cause, I got a Dr. Pepper out of it, and the promise that my mom would actually listen to two of my new favorite songs (she has the bad habit of flipping off all our music in the car). Actually, I suppose her plot was a good idea, but who wouldn't feel a bit miffed when their family places them in a situation of torture instead of shopping?

Vizzini Lives

Do you remember Vizzini from The Princess Bride? You know, the neurotic Sicilian with a penchant for shouting "inconceivable!" ("You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."). Well, yesterday I was sitting in my Career Explorations of Journalism class (only one more day of it left total! yay!), and the lecture was about other options in communications. The first speaker started out pretty bland, but he got excited quickly, and every other sentence ended up very loud and with lots of emphasis. It was during one of the first of these impassioned sentences that I realized he sounded EXACTLY like Vizzini. I'm not kidding. His "normal" speech sounded, well, fairly normal, but as soon as he got excited *poof* out came Vizzini. I was starting to want to giggle; once you noticed it it was so obvious. I whispered it to my friend, and she started snickering. Really, I was trying so hard not to laugh, and I think my face was probably red. . . it's a good thing it was a lecture and not a small class. I wish you all could have heard this guy. Or maybe not: then we'd have a whole row of people cracking up, and that might warrant some more attention.

Prolific Predestination and Elasticity

Arg! I just finished writing a 1 1/2 (real) page single-spaced email on predestination. It wasn't my fault! The guy specifically wanted a response to his questions about my earlier statement. Honest! It's for my Tolkien class. See, the professor set up a listserv so that we can discuss the issues we're talking about out of class. And all these people are raising questions, and I have so much to say, and you know I can never keep my mouth shut. . . (It was so hard to write, too, because I couldn't use italics at all. Really, I was quite handicapped.) Groan. . . I am hopeless.

Actually, the real thing this blog update is about is my Econ lab this morning. We played a "game" called "Elasticity Stretch," and we randomly split up into four teams. When I say "game," I mean "write down answers to questions about elasticity supply of demand." Oh, so fun!(voice drips with sarcasm) Still, the winning team got extra credit, so at least we were competing for something. The environment was hardly conducive to quick thinking: this is 9am on a friday morning in a warm room filled with yellow sunlight. Duh! Our first major challenge came when we were told to pick a name. The three other people in my group and I look at each with completely blank stares. "Come on," our TA told all of us, "Think of a fun name that has to do with Economics." That got a few raised eyebrows, at least. We muttered some halfhearted phrases to each other ("we could always go with 'demand'"), and then he asked the first group what their name was. "Supply" they said. He his expression clearly said you-can-do-better-than-that, and he said,"the next group had better not say "demand." Oops. There goes our one idea. We stare desperately at each other, and the other girl in my group says "Come back to us." The next group picked "George" (the name of our TA) and the other group picked "We supply the answers." Drat! It's back to us, and now we are starting to plan escape routes from the building. Without missing a beat, the TA writes our group name on the board "Come back to us." LOL. Whenever we had to write our name down we cracked up. At least I did. Oh, and all the groups tied and got the extra credit. But we had the coolest name.

Somebody Get Ready To Do CPR. . .

I'm too tired of typing right now to write much, so I'll just give an update of my science lab yesterday. I thought of doing a serious reflection of my life right now, then I figured that I couldn't make this blog serious if I tried. If you want a series book review, though, go to www.writersread.blogspot.com (shameless self-promotion). It's a cool blog Mr. Eubanks started, and I'm one of the (many) contributors. But back to my story:
So I finished my first science lab report (barely) in time to start my next one. We were measuring magnetic fields in appliances, and since we had to do it somewhere other than the lab, I volunteered my room. Thankfully I knew about this ahead of time, otherwise I cringe to think what might have appeared when we were moving the refrigerator and microwave. One of the teachers (i.e. our TA) was going to come by and check to make sure we were doing okay. So imagine my surprise when our professor walks into my room! Now, this is the same professor who I found myself arguing about evolution with on the first day (will I never learn?). The same professor of who, I convinced myself, has absolutely nothing in common with myself. The professor who scares me; the professor who makes me believe that our brains operate in completely different universes. So, she sits down on my rug (and I utter another prayer of thankfulness that I had time to vacuum), and asks us about our experiment. Then looking at the poster on the wall right by the door, says "So who here likes Firefly?" If my jaw did not drop open literally, then it certainly did mentally. I tried to gather the facts in my head (1. It's a poster for "Serenity", which means that she actually knows that "Serenity" and "Firefly" are connected. 2. Wait: she knows what Firefly is?) and I managed to come up the completely inane comment "You know Firefly?" "Yes," she replies. "I love that show."
I can just see God chuckling up in heaven as he teaches me that I have a lot in common with even the most different people. All my assumptions crumble away, and I admit that I am not so isolated from the rest of humanity as I sometimes think (well, who else do you know who memorizes 15 pages of poetry for fun?). That, and there's at least one other Firefly fan still out there. ;)

Apocalypse Now, Por Favor

Saturday, February 18th:
I begin to work on my lab report. I stare blankly at the many papers spread across my bed until my roommate takes pity on me and helps me decipher them. She also tries to help me understand the difference between velocity and acceleration. I wonder how such a simple physics experiment can go so wrong. I spend hours trying to learn how to use the charting software on my computer.

Sunday, February 19th:
There is no curse in elvish, entish, or the tongues of men for such a lab report.

Monday, February 20th:
I remember that we are supposed to find outside sources to put our experiment in context. I spend a half hour at the library and come up with nothing. I cordially dislike scientific journals. That is the understatement of the century.

The Future:
Maybe the world will end before this thing is due. I'll go see if the apocalypse in on my calendar for sometime today.

Of Marshmallows, Fantasy, and "Country" Music

Sigh. . .I've actually just spent like 4 straight hours reading a book for a journalism test tomorrow and doing my econ homework. I'm getting burned out (I'm never that productive!). Maybe it's cuz of that 2 and a half hour nap earlier. ;) And I still have more reading to do for that class (groan).
At the dining hall tonight we had a dessert that the signs labeled "marshmallow treats." And yes. . .they were rice krispy treats. That is just so weird! I understand that "Rice Krispy's" is a name of a brand, and chances are the cheapskates don't use the real stuff, but "Marshmallow treats" keeps making me expect little marshmallow snowmen with candy eyes or something. Maybe I have been studying too much.

Last night I remembered that I wanted to order the King of Attolia (by Megan Whalen Turner) and the last of the Wren books (by Sherwood Smith) from amazon, and I wanted them shipped to my dorm, so I decided to spend enough to get free supersaver shipping. Well, when I picked out another book I discovered that most of their fantasy/sci-fi books are get 4 for the price of 3! Of course, the two books I originally wanted are "kid's books" or something and so they don't count; I ended up ordering six fantasy books. :D (or is that a :P ?)

I found a new music group that I really like. They are called "The Spares" and itunes calls them country, but I don't usually like country at all and I like them, so I'm not sure that that is right. Anyhow, they led the worship at my church this past Sunday, and I bought their CD "Hand Me Down." It's really great! I've listened to it waaay to may times already.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Happy sigh. . .this morning Rollins (my dining hall) had a special valentine's breakfast. There were supposed to be heart-shaped pancakes (which there weren't), but I had a decadent breakfast of normal pancakes doused in a dark chocolate syrup and covered with semi-sweet morsels. Highlight: strawberries with tons of a warm chocolate glaze. I felt like Kaylee (if you don't get this, YOU NEED TO SEE FIREFLY). It's such a nice day here, all warm and sunny; so, of course, I have a two hour science lab this afternoon in a room without windows. Go figure.
Ha! The journalism school just sent out an e-mail encouraging us to go to a lecture on "the important topic of nanotechnology." On valentine's evening? They're got to be kidding. Even people like me who aren't dating have better things to do! (I'm hanging out with friends and watching Scrubs.) Hee hee, nothing like priorities.

Maybe I'll Be a Steerswoman Next Halloween. . .

Wow. I just finished the 3rd of 4 books in a series, and found out that there will be more that haven't been published yet. The author took a ten year break between 2 and 3, so that doesn't look particularly encouraging. Oh, the books are The Steerswoman's Road (two novels in one: The Steerswoman and The Outskirter's Secret), The Lost Steersman, and The Launguage of Power (which I haven't started yet). They are set in a medieval-like society, but one quickly discovers the the "magic" of the world is actually technology. Only the wizards know how to use this "magic," and they guard their secrets jealously. On the other end of the spectrum are the Steerswomen, explorers and chroniclers who give knowledge freely to any who ask. A steerswoman must reply truthfully to any question she is asked, and a person must give an answer to any question she asks. Believe it or not, these books actually tied into my science course (a very little) and made it more intriguing for me. Okay, I didn't mean give a lecture about these books, but oh well.

On Monday night, I went to "Waffle Night," which is a chance to hang out at our RUF leader's house. It was a "rip-roaring good time" (LOL). The party was made up of our campus minister and his family, our RUF interns, and about seven students.

[My posting was just interrupted by the sounding of the fire alarms. To paraphrase what Jayne from Firefly so eloquently stated, There's nothing more deceiving than a low down dirty (pause) deceiver. . .especially one that pulls fire alarms.Well, I might was well update the "Fire Alarm Stories" archive. Several people were out there in flip-flops; that would be so horrible! It's really freeezing out there. One person "saved" their guinea pig by bringing it out in its plastic ball. And one of the guys (whom I do not know) in the small huddle I was in mentioned that he pulled the fire alarm in his dorm early first semester. He even used a hanger to avoid any possible ink packs. We brought up that this crowd was probably not the best place to boast about this exploit, but he laughed it off and was not repentant. In hindsight, I think I should have slapped him, as some small revenge for all the people he inconvenienced. I really wish I would have. When our hall coordinator finally got our attention for announcements, she was greeted with a very loudly shouted F-word. This probably does not put us anymore in her good graces. It turns out it was a scheduled fire alarm, which in good because it means it wasn't a prank, and bad because it was really really cold out and very mean to do it at this time.]

Back to Waffle Night. Basically we ate waffles and had a good time; the funniest/craziest thing we did was go around the table telling scar stories. A very odd, but also strangely cool, tradition. I (personally) really like my scars, maybe because they look impressive and I was too young to remember the pain. I think, though, that it's because I've read too many books where the neat characters had interesting scars. And people seem very impressed when I tell my stories, and wince or gasp very nicely. Maybe that makes up for the fact that I faint when I have blood drawn. Anyhow, "Scar Wars" was really fun, and it was awesome because it was so different from all the other "What is your major?", etc.

Only 3 more episodes of Battlestar Galactica (first season) left. :(

Estoy Muy Triste

Yesterday my Spanish class found out that our teacher is leaving. She's got a new job, and can only keep one of her two classes. The university chose to have her keep her other one (go figure). The really depressing thing is I know someone in the other class, and she doesn't appreciate the teacher at all. Sigh. So today we had a new teacher. Homework, class format, etc. is all going to be different now. It's hard not to compare our new teacher to Grisel, and start out miffed. She seems nice enough, but it's different, and we all know how much I like change. :P

In other news, I bought a "Serenity" poster at a poster sale.

Rocheport, MO

Yesterday I woke up, did four loads of laundry, and dueled with a washer (I lost). I also ran out of meal tickets, so I decided rather than trudge somewhere to get meals (or just pay the dining hall) I would eat snacks for lunch and dinner. But when my friend Libby called at 1 o'clock and invited me to go out to lunch with some other friends, I figured it was meant to be. So I walked through the rain (without my umbrella) to her dorm, then to another girl's car and off we went. It was a very nice (albeit a bit cramped with four people) sportscar. We headed to Rocheport, a town about 20 minutes away, Pop. 208 (Plus 1!), as the sign announced.
As we turned down the small streets, Libby was ecstatic "Look! Isn't that fence amazing? This is such a wonderful place!" While the rest of us looked around and saw many, many antique stores but no restaurants. Anyhow, after some "I think it's around here somewhere's" (you can't get too lost in Rocheport), we found the little restaurant. The menu was so small it was just written on a whiteboard, and as the rest of us looked suspiciously at the weird combinations of pasta or crabcakes with sauces we were unfamiliar with (hey, I'm a picky eater), the other girl peppered Libby with questions, while the lone guy in our group pondered "What's shit-take?" (that is, Shittake mushrooms). In the end I ended up ordering two desserts, carrot cake and apple pie, which was probably the oddest order the lady had ever received. But she laughed. While we waited for our food, we colored on the paper tablecloth with crayons, Libby drawing a crazy picture of the guy (he's in the Navy) on a very funny looking boat, while he responded by adding Libby in among the aliens he had already drawn. I just doodled some girls, who Libby declared to be the characters from Little Women, and we spent a few minutes trying to remember their names, discussing the movie, and agreeing that we needed to read the book again.
Afterwards we walked to one of the Antique stores, where I bought something (but it wasn't for me). The store has very cute little bags and purple tissue paper. Then we all piled back in the car and returned to Mizzou. Ummm. . .the end. So this story doesn't have a climax. Live with it.

Horoscopes In A Klutz-Centric Universe

For my science class, we did a little fun experiment. Basically, we proved that Zodiac signs do not determine personal characteristics (duh!). Anyhow, it got me thinking. I imagined a world where horoscope predictions were true, and I decided that it would not help certain klutzy people like myself. For example:

You will have a special encounter with a person you know.

You careen head-on into a casual acquaintance, making a complete fool of yourself.

Your financial situation will change.

A soda machine eats your dollar and provides no soda.

You will escape the rut of boring ho-hum existence

You fall down a flight of stairs.


etc. and so on. The only thing more powerful than fate is Klutziness.

From The Chronicles of the Princess, Semester Two: Week One

Well, my day started off just lovely: after my second class I sliced my thumb on the bathroom door. As slices go, it's not the bad-enough-to-need-stitches-kind, but it is certainly the wow-that's-a-lot-of-blood-is-it-ever-going-to-stop?-variety. It would be my left thumb, too (go ahead and smirk, right-handers :P). It's rainy and cold here today, and my long journalism class was, of course, on the other side of campus. And I spilled pizza on my shirt at lunch. But enough tales of woe and sorrow: it is the weekend! Let us make merry and rejoice!

My classes this semester run the gauntlet from predictable to horrible to wonderful. My Theology of JRR Tolkien class (the only redeeming class on my schedule) is taught by an amazing professor. He's retired, and doesn't even get paid to teach, but that's never seems to have stopped him. This year the university offered him any class he wanted, so he made this one up. For the first class, he read us a portion of the Ainulindalë (the Middle Earth creation story) while playing some of Hayden's "Creation." For fun he travels the world trying to see every species of penguin in the wild (he just got back from one of these frozen trips). The other class he teaches is called "Music and Mathematics." As I said, he's awesome.
The not-so-great class is my Honors science course. The main professor (the lectures will be taught by a variety of professors, most of whom seem really nice) is rather intimidating; she seems fair but very stony. Her comment on the first day that she hates to let students out early didn't reassure us any, either. Apparently a lot of the class will be geology, and at the end will be a group project, part of which is identifying age, etc, of a spot near campus. So after class, I went up and asked what if one did not believe in millions of years. We ended up arguing (umm, "discussing") evolution for the next half hour. To be fair, she doesn't say that science equals atheism, but believes that ethics and especially metaphysics should not be mixed up with science. Anyhow, she thinks that evolution is the most viable theory, and that every other argument has vital flaws from a scientific perspective. Of course I don't know enough to really contradict her. So now I'm doing extra research to try and defend my position. As if I didn't already have enough to do.
My Econ T.A. is from Georgia--not the state, the country. His accept is really interesting. So far I've had teachers from China, Puerto Rico, and now Georgia. Exciting.

The other day I found out that itunes had added the rest of Loreena McKennitt's albums! I was so happy; I downloaded 2 of them and have listened to her rendition of Alfred Noyes' poem "The Highwayman" almost constantly since them. Sigh of contentment . . .I love story-poems set to music. One last note: Mr. Eubanks has started a really cool blog called "Writers Read," it's a great place to get book reviews (and I'm not just saying that cuz I'm part of it!) The address is www.writersread.blogspot.com
And I'm horrible with adding links, so there isn't one. Sorry.

My Long Sojourn in Internet-Free Lands

Technically I had internet at home, but between the slow dialup and fending off my siblings clamoring for their turns, I decided I had a good enough excuse not to blog (that, and the fact that my blog's title specifically mentions adventures in college). Hopefully my brain is enough awake to at least start to chronicle some of the things that have happened to me lately.

I'm going to breeze over Christmas break (Firefly episodes, reading fiction till 2am, Firefly Episodes, trip to the art museum, Firefly episodes. . .), but I can't resist at least mentioning my recent escapades in retail. As you may (or may not) know, I got a job, thanks to Lukas, as a seasonal cashier at Target (not that it was his idea to let me handle money). It's pretty funny/odd/different being introduced and having people's eyes widen when they realize "Oh, you're Lukas' sister!" Before all my siblings had to put up with being known as "Lee Anne's brother/sister." The tables have turned. Sigh. . .soon I'll come home, and their friends will go "We didn't even know you had an older sister!" But I digress.

Einstein once said that genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration. I'm trying to think of some similar witty remark to cover retail, but it's not coming. I know the perspiration is in their somewhere. So are blood and tears (and I'm not kidding about the blood!) Hmm, Neither holidays, nor schedules, nor shoving people out of line will cause us speed up. . . Oh well. In honor of this lovely period of my life, I have come up with some Plastic Bag Awards to give to some very special customers.

Best Practical Joke
It's Target Policy to ask a guest if they need a gift receipt if it looks like it might apply to something in their purchase. Before the holidays, you pretty much just ask everybody. What's really funny is how predictable their reactions are. Everyone pauses for a second, and stares at their purchases as if they are trying to telepathically connect with the items ("Oh wise item from the planet of Mattel, you do desire that I should request a gift receipt for you?"). Most people make up their minds, and go back to being their brusque or painfully slow selves. But some people just think this situation is just too funny. Notably dads. First time this happened:
Me: Do you need a gift receipt for anything?
Customer: [long thoughtful glance at items] Maybe for the laundry detergent.
Then thee dad grins, elbows one of his kids (if they are with him) and laughs at his wittiness. First time, it was kind of funny. Second time it happened (with a completely different customer!) it was even funnier. They think that they are being so original, yet they all pick laundry detergent. I'm not kidding.

But the prize for best joke goes to one particular customer. I'm scanning the items, trying to be a "fast, fun, and friendly cashier" (read: impossible), I've said hi, then this dad just says "Umm, I was harassed by one of your employees, and you need to give me a 10% on my entire purchase." The next two seconds were filled with more thoughts than I've ever had at one time before: ohmygoshdoIcalltheheadcashiermaybehe'dliketoopenaTargetcardandsavetenpercentthatwayIknowIcangivediscountsonsingleitemsbutonawholeorderthisisgoingtomakethistranactionslowandgivemeabadratingWHATdidhejustsay?
Some of this complete confusion must have showed in my face (I hope my mouth wasn't open), for he look at me, slightly worried, and said "You know I was joking, right?" Rush of relief and quick drop of adrenaline. He kept looking worried, and apologized, and I think I managed at least a wan smile while assuring him that it was quite all right and really very funny. Afterwards, that is.


Oddest Combination of Items
(A man is checking out) A turquoise bra, a kid's baseball glove, and a household object. Yeah, that was surprising. Of course, after a few minutes he was joined by his wife and son, which went a long way towards explaining things, but STILL.

Craziest Request
It's always funny to see what people open in the store and then pay for. For example, a lady checking out with a HUGE (open) bag of M&Ms: "You may want to put those in a separate bag so they don't spill. My daughter would be so embarrassed [conspiratorial smile] but she's not here, and after all, sometimes you just have to have some chocolate. . ." Other crazy open items: Kleenex box (obvious, due to the girl blowing her running nose as she checked out) feminine products ("We had an accident") and the usual array of sodas. But the absolute craziest was when three twenty-something girls came to check out. They dumped their pile of items on the belt, then said:

Spokesgirl: Can you just ring up the tags? They're all here. I'm not sure if you can or not, but she's kind of wearing the items
Other Girl [pointing at third girl, our Target product model]: It's the shirt, and the bra, and the belt. . . Are you going to make her take them off?
Me[slightly floored]: That's okay, I can just ring up the tags.
Spokesgirl [huge smile] Thanks so much. I wasn't sure if you could do that.
Me: I'm not sure I can either; I'm new, but I will anyway.
Girls: [smiles and giggles]
me (to myself) was it really that funny?
"Bye," "Thanks," etc.
Definitely Unusual.