Deep in the pit of winter, it can be difficult to feel like life is sunny. After all, winter sun hardly ever shines in Michigan, and the temperature is frequently below zero. It's dark when I leave for work in the morning, and it's dark when I get home. No wonder it's hard to get excited about mundane day-to-day life!
The way I usually deal with stress is by running. With the roads covered in sheets of ice and the temperature cold enough to freeze the lining of my lungs, this hasn't been an option for a while. Rex suggested that I come to his clinic to run because he has treadmills there. I figured this was a good idea. Treadmills aren't as fun as running outside, but at least I could burn off a little steam and not have to pay exorbitant gym fees to do so.
Well, because it's the middle of winter and I have no motivation, I got up late and forgot to pack my gym clothes when I went to school. I texted Rex and asked him to grab my gym clothes and bring them to work with him so that I could meet him there after school. He said okay. What a great guy.
After school, I drove to Rex's clinic. I walked in and stopped by the receptionist's desk. She said that Rex was with a patient, but that she would let him know I was there. I headed over to the waiting room and took a seat.
I've never waited in a waiting room to see my husband before. It made me feel kind-of unimportant, like maybe I should have made an appointment with him first. But all I needed was my gym clothes! They were probably sitting under his desk in a back office somewhere! I looked around the waiting room and wondered how long I would have to wait for Rex. I eyed the assortment of magazines and decided against reading one. After all, I was not any old patient. I am a WIFE of one of the therapists. Shouldn't that make me some sort of VIP? Is there a VIP lounge somewhere with better magazines and possibly refreshments? Soft Asian music played in the background, and the room smelled faintly of incense. I think I was very close to finding my inner chi or aligning my chakras or whatever. It was all quite zen. I wonder what that has to do with physical therapy...maybe if you're calm you feel less pain? Personally, if I was in a lot of pain, I'd be all, "SCREW THIS ZEN MUSIC! I AM NOT CALM! I AM ANGRY ABOUT ALL OF THIS STUPID PAIN AND THE FACT THAT I'M WAITING SO LONG TO SEE MY THERAPIST!" Maybe it's a good thing I'm not a patient there.
After twenty-five minutes (!!!) of waiting in the waiting room to see my husband, I finally went back up to talk to the receptionist. After all, I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner in less than an hour, so I wasn't going to have time to work out if I couldn't start soon. I asked when Rex was expected to be finished with his patient. I told her that I just needed my gym clothes, and she said, "Oh, that's all? They're probably just in his office. Why don't you go check under his desk?" I said that I couldn't because I felt like that was tantamount to going into the stockroom at a retail store...customers aren't supposed to do that. She laughed at me and said, "Come on, let's go." She took me back to his office, and sure enough: I noticed my bright blue shorts sticking out of his backpack. "That's it!" I said excitedly. I grabbed the bag and turned to leave, but not before noticing that the following are the only items on Rex's desk:
1. A pink lamp
2. A trophy with a banana on it
3. A hedgehog Christmas ornament
What the....?!?! I made a mental note to ask Rex about this later and also to get him a framed picture of us so I could make sure the sexy Pilates instructor knows Rex is married. Maybe a wedding picture. And also a picture of me with a fake baby belly. Just so she knows our marriage is going great and that we are not open to her wiles (because all Pilates instructors are wily. Everyone knows that).
With my gym bag in tow, I went to the bathroom to change. That's where I discovered that Rex had grabbed my dirty gym clothes from the hamper (EWWWW), and he had not packed me a sports bra or a hair tie. He's a guy, so I guess I understand the oversight, but....how on earth am I supposed to run without a sports bra or a hair tie!? I took off my pearl necklace and tried to finagle it into a device that could hold my hair back. If anyone asked, I was going to play it off like the new cool thing: "Oh, you've never heard of gym pearls? They're the newest craze in gym wear. Their tagline is 'Because sweating is no excuse to look unsophisticated.'" Unfortunately, the idea didn't really pan out. I dug through my purse and found a rubber band tucked into a bottom corner - SCORE! That would work.
I went out to go use the treadmills, and guess what? They were full. So even after all of the hassle, I still couldn't run. I stood frozen for a minute, unsure what to do. Ryan (a therapist I've met once or twice) came out and said, "Hey Christine, what's up? Do you want some music on while you work out?" I think what he really meant to say was, "Why are you standing there like a loser?" I assured him that I was fine and that I was just about to get started on "this machine over here." Because obviously I didn't know the name of the machine. Because obviously they all looked like space contraptions that I didn't know how to use.
I walked up to the least intimidating machine and studied its intricate web of levers and pulleys. Rex had showed me this one once before - I knew it was for arms. I grabbed a handle and started pulling. Cool! I could do this! I could pull the handle! Look at me getting ripped! After a few pulls on the handle, I decided to switch the setting. I pulled the pin thing and tried to change the location of the pulley, but suddenly all the strings started hanging out weird and the handle fell to the ground. "Ahhhhhh!" I thought. "I broke Rex's workplace!" I immediately looked around to see if anyone had noticed me. No one had. Phewf. I spotted the Pilates mats over in the corner and decided to just do some push ups and sit ups on those. I couldn't screw that up. I just had to hope Ms. Barbie Doll Pilates Chick wouldn't need them for a class and order me off of her mats. Then I really wouldn't know what to do.
Luckily, I was allowed to use the mats. I did a few push ups and sit ups, and then I decided to take a quick sixty second break. Breaks are GOOD, you know? You have to give your muscles a rest for a second! You can't just move continuously for an hour! Okay, I mean, you can, but....I didn't. I took a QUICK, FLEETING, MILLISECOND break. Of course Ryan picked that exact moment to come back into the gym. He gave me a weird look, and I understand why. The first time he walked in, I was standing and looking bewilderedly around the gym. The second time, I was lying on the Pilates mat like a kindergartner at nap time. He probably thinks I am a total nut. I wanted to exclaim, "I'm not crazy! I just wanted to run on the treadmill! It wasn't supposed to be this complicated!"
When Rex FINALLY came to see how I was doing, I told him that I couldn't use any of the machines because I didn't know how they worked, and also I was pretty sure I broke one. He laughed and said that I didn't break the broken one, that he had made that mistake before too (Phew!). He asked what I wanted to work on, and I said legs. He showed me this machine that was literally a baby bouncer seat. You're basically doing squats on a diagonal plane - you bounce up and down for a while until you feel the burn. He told me to do two sets of twenty-five reps. Then he went back to his office to do whatever the heck he does at his pink-lamp-banana desk.
I did two sets of twenty-five reps, but I didn't know how to do any of the other machines. So in order to keep from looking like the gym foreigner that I am, I kept bouncing. And bouncing. And bouncing.
A hundred fifty reps later, my legs were like jello and I realized it was time to give up on the workout and go meet Sarah for dinner.
Maybe I'll just wait for spring in order to exercise again.
Sunday, March 8, 2015
Monday, March 2, 2015
The Crow
Rex's grandma decided to skip her birthday this year. She didn't want to get a year older, so she declared that she was skipping it. That didn't stop us from going to visit her on the east side of the state this weekend. We decided to call it a "Grandma Appreciation Day" visit instead of a birthday visit.
We also decided to bring a "Grandma Appreciation Day" gift because...you know...it's nice to show appreciation for your grandmother.
Also, it was her birthday.
If I gave you three guesses as to what we got Rex's grandma for her birthday, I guarantee you would not guess it. Actually, if I gave you a hundred guesses, or even a thousand, you wouldn't have a shot.
We got her a.....
....drumroll please....
A dead crow.
Yep, you read that correctly: a DEAD CROW. We actually had to keep it in our freezer for the week leading up to Grandma Appreciation Day or else it would start to rot.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now I don't want to eat anything in my freezer that cohabitated with the dead crow, but I'm too cheap to throw the food away. If you think about it, all meat in a freezer is dead anyway. So really it's not that gross. Except, you know, for the fact that it totally is.
The logical question is, "Why did you get your grandmother a dead crow?" The answer is anything but logical, and I still don't understand it. The answer is simply this: she wanted one.
Yep. Rex's grandma wanted a dead crow for her birthday. She's had this thing about crows lately...she's painted them on a bunch of stuff in her house. She and Rex's grandpa have some dead and stuffed animals in their house, but it's mostly normal stuff like deer and turkeys. Rex's grandma decided that she'd like to add a crow to her corpse collection, but no one in the family is an avid crow hunter (because, really...that's very strange). Anyway, Rex decided to step up and shoot a crow for his grandma, and that's exactly what he did. We brought it to her this weekend, and she was soooo excited.
What kind of weird family did I marry into?
And am I even weirder for loving them all?
We also decided to bring a "Grandma Appreciation Day" gift because...you know...it's nice to show appreciation for your grandmother.
Also, it was her birthday.
If I gave you three guesses as to what we got Rex's grandma for her birthday, I guarantee you would not guess it. Actually, if I gave you a hundred guesses, or even a thousand, you wouldn't have a shot.
We got her a.....
....drumroll please....
A dead crow.
Yep, you read that correctly: a DEAD CROW. We actually had to keep it in our freezer for the week leading up to Grandma Appreciation Day or else it would start to rot.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now I don't want to eat anything in my freezer that cohabitated with the dead crow, but I'm too cheap to throw the food away. If you think about it, all meat in a freezer is dead anyway. So really it's not that gross. Except, you know, for the fact that it totally is.
The logical question is, "Why did you get your grandmother a dead crow?" The answer is anything but logical, and I still don't understand it. The answer is simply this: she wanted one.
Yep. Rex's grandma wanted a dead crow for her birthday. She's had this thing about crows lately...she's painted them on a bunch of stuff in her house. She and Rex's grandpa have some dead and stuffed animals in their house, but it's mostly normal stuff like deer and turkeys. Rex's grandma decided that she'd like to add a crow to her corpse collection, but no one in the family is an avid crow hunter (because, really...that's very strange). Anyway, Rex decided to step up and shoot a crow for his grandma, and that's exactly what he did. We brought it to her this weekend, and she was soooo excited.
What kind of weird family did I marry into?
And am I even weirder for loving them all?
Randoms
From the title of this blog post, you might think that I am going to write about a bunch of random things. Wrong! I'm writing about one specific thing: Randoms.
Randoms are a new candy by Wonka, and they're awesome! It's basically an adventure in a bag. It's a gummy candy sort of like gummy life savers, but they're in the most RANDOM shapes ever (hence the name). I bought a bag to share with Rex, and we took turns reaching in and taking out the candies. Here are some of the shapes we got:
- palm tree
- shoe
- shuttlecock (the thing used to play badminton)
- trophy
- candy (which I thought was clever...candy in the shape of a candy)
- car
- saxophone
- bowtie
Aren't those RANDOM?? Also, the flavors are really random too. They're all different colors, some of the gummies have mixed colors, and some have foamy layers on the bottom. They're so fabulous! Probably the best one of the night was this one:
Rex: So? What did you get this time?
Me: I...uh...I think it's a grenade. Wow, that's weird to make grenade shaped candy...
Rex: It is not a grenade. Let me see it. *grabs the candy to look at it*
Me: Oh! I see it now! It's a ping pong paddle!
It was a ping pong paddle, but it really looked like a grenade. The handle was awfully short! I thought that would be a relatively insensitive shape choice.
Anyway, all that to say...if you need a little variety in your life, try Randoms candy. You never know what to expect.
Randoms are a new candy by Wonka, and they're awesome! It's basically an adventure in a bag. It's a gummy candy sort of like gummy life savers, but they're in the most RANDOM shapes ever (hence the name). I bought a bag to share with Rex, and we took turns reaching in and taking out the candies. Here are some of the shapes we got:
- palm tree
- shoe
- shuttlecock (the thing used to play badminton)
- trophy
- candy (which I thought was clever...candy in the shape of a candy)
- car
- saxophone
- bowtie
Aren't those RANDOM?? Also, the flavors are really random too. They're all different colors, some of the gummies have mixed colors, and some have foamy layers on the bottom. They're so fabulous! Probably the best one of the night was this one:
Rex: So? What did you get this time?
Me: I...uh...I think it's a grenade. Wow, that's weird to make grenade shaped candy...
Rex: It is not a grenade. Let me see it. *grabs the candy to look at it*
Me: Oh! I see it now! It's a ping pong paddle!
It was a ping pong paddle, but it really looked like a grenade. The handle was awfully short! I thought that would be a relatively insensitive shape choice.
Anyway, all that to say...if you need a little variety in your life, try Randoms candy. You never know what to expect.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Fake Coffee
Two things you should know about me:
1. I hate coffee
2. I love options
They are seemingly unrelated facts, but they'll both be important in a minute. The first one is self-explanatory. I don't like coffee. I think it's gross, and it stains people's teeth brown. Ew. I do love the smell of coffee. I can get some of my best writing done when I settle down at a Starbucks or a Barnes and Noble cafe, but I don't actually want to taste it.
The second fact is that I love options. I don't like being told what to do, and I don't like having things decided for me. I'm always one to "keep my options open," and I usually try not to commit to something until the last possible second because I always want to consider everything else (the obvious exception here being my husband, since I got married when I was ridiculously young. Whatever. Rex is the best guy on earth, so I had to lock that down while I had the chance). My parents have told me a zillion times that one of the first full sentences I learned to say was, "I can do it myself."
The other day Rex and I were over at his parents' house for a game night, and Rex offered to make coffee. He asked who wanted to have some, and then he said, "but Christine won't have any because she hates coffee." Um, ExCUSE me. You cannot say whether I will or will not have coffee, Rex. That choice is mine! I want the option to turn it down myself! So then I obviously said, "Actually, I'll have a cup, please," and then, a second later, "a half of a cup. I'm not actually that thirsty." Or I actually hate coffee. You know, whichever. But I'd already said I'd have some. Rex looked at me like I was nuts. "Seriously?" he asked. "You seriously want coffee?"
There was no going back now. "Yep," I said nonchalantly while shuffling some cards. "Why not? Coffee sounds good right now." He looked at me as if I'd just sprouted antennae, but then he shrugged it off and went back to getting the coffee ready. If there was a thought bubble over his head at that moment, I'm sure it would have said, "Women are completely nuts."
Rex brought over the cups of coffee, and we all started playing Phase 10. Everyone enjoyed their coffee, and I considered drinking mine. After all, I'd asked for it. I did like the smell of it, so maybe the taste wouldn't be too bad. I took a tentative sip that was probably equivalent to about 1/4 teaspoon.
Ew! Gross! What was this disgusting brown junk defiling my tongue?! It was bitter and sharp and was probably burning my taste buds right out of my mouth. I tried not to grimace and considered spitting the coffee back into the cup, but that seemed rude. I swallowed the sip and decided not to ever try that again. Suddenly, I had an epiphany. The cup was only half full. I didn't actually have to drink any of it. I could just pretend!
I lifted the cup to my lips and tipped it backwards, but not far enough for any of the coffee to reach my mouth. I pretended to drink and then put it back down. "Ahhh..." I sighed. "Nothing quite as good as a hot cup of Joe." Rex looked at me, baffled, and I just played my cards. Everyone else continued to enjoy their coffee and Phase 10, and I periodically took a "drink" of my coffee to look like I was fitting in. I mean, it's not like someone was going to come measure to make sure the level of the coffee in the mug was going down.
I really thought I was getting away with it. I was feeling pretty proud of myself for thinking of this brilliant plan. After a particularly long sip, I put the mug down. Rex leaned over and whispered in my ear, "It's really interesting how your lips are never wet after you take a drink of your coffee." I stared at him, mouth agape, and he laughed. I was so caught. His family asked what was so funny, but we certainly weren't going to tell! I offered to go get coffee refills, and I surreptitiously dumped the rest of my coffee down the drain when I went into the kitchen. I felt kind of bad to waste it, but I would have felt a lot worse if I actually tried to drink it.
Next time I think I'll make it easier on myself and just back down if Rex tries to make my drink decision for me. After all, the guy's been with me for eight years. He knows me pretty well. Maybe it's okay to let him nix my options when it comes to coffee.
1. I hate coffee
2. I love options
They are seemingly unrelated facts, but they'll both be important in a minute. The first one is self-explanatory. I don't like coffee. I think it's gross, and it stains people's teeth brown. Ew. I do love the smell of coffee. I can get some of my best writing done when I settle down at a Starbucks or a Barnes and Noble cafe, but I don't actually want to taste it.
The second fact is that I love options. I don't like being told what to do, and I don't like having things decided for me. I'm always one to "keep my options open," and I usually try not to commit to something until the last possible second because I always want to consider everything else (the obvious exception here being my husband, since I got married when I was ridiculously young. Whatever. Rex is the best guy on earth, so I had to lock that down while I had the chance). My parents have told me a zillion times that one of the first full sentences I learned to say was, "I can do it myself."
The other day Rex and I were over at his parents' house for a game night, and Rex offered to make coffee. He asked who wanted to have some, and then he said, "but Christine won't have any because she hates coffee." Um, ExCUSE me. You cannot say whether I will or will not have coffee, Rex. That choice is mine! I want the option to turn it down myself! So then I obviously said, "Actually, I'll have a cup, please," and then, a second later, "a half of a cup. I'm not actually that thirsty." Or I actually hate coffee. You know, whichever. But I'd already said I'd have some. Rex looked at me like I was nuts. "Seriously?" he asked. "You seriously want coffee?"
There was no going back now. "Yep," I said nonchalantly while shuffling some cards. "Why not? Coffee sounds good right now." He looked at me as if I'd just sprouted antennae, but then he shrugged it off and went back to getting the coffee ready. If there was a thought bubble over his head at that moment, I'm sure it would have said, "Women are completely nuts."
Rex brought over the cups of coffee, and we all started playing Phase 10. Everyone enjoyed their coffee, and I considered drinking mine. After all, I'd asked for it. I did like the smell of it, so maybe the taste wouldn't be too bad. I took a tentative sip that was probably equivalent to about 1/4 teaspoon.
Ew! Gross! What was this disgusting brown junk defiling my tongue?! It was bitter and sharp and was probably burning my taste buds right out of my mouth. I tried not to grimace and considered spitting the coffee back into the cup, but that seemed rude. I swallowed the sip and decided not to ever try that again. Suddenly, I had an epiphany. The cup was only half full. I didn't actually have to drink any of it. I could just pretend!
I lifted the cup to my lips and tipped it backwards, but not far enough for any of the coffee to reach my mouth. I pretended to drink and then put it back down. "Ahhh..." I sighed. "Nothing quite as good as a hot cup of Joe." Rex looked at me, baffled, and I just played my cards. Everyone else continued to enjoy their coffee and Phase 10, and I periodically took a "drink" of my coffee to look like I was fitting in. I mean, it's not like someone was going to come measure to make sure the level of the coffee in the mug was going down.
I really thought I was getting away with it. I was feeling pretty proud of myself for thinking of this brilliant plan. After a particularly long sip, I put the mug down. Rex leaned over and whispered in my ear, "It's really interesting how your lips are never wet after you take a drink of your coffee." I stared at him, mouth agape, and he laughed. I was so caught. His family asked what was so funny, but we certainly weren't going to tell! I offered to go get coffee refills, and I surreptitiously dumped the rest of my coffee down the drain when I went into the kitchen. I felt kind of bad to waste it, but I would have felt a lot worse if I actually tried to drink it.
Next time I think I'll make it easier on myself and just back down if Rex tries to make my drink decision for me. After all, the guy's been with me for eight years. He knows me pretty well. Maybe it's okay to let him nix my options when it comes to coffee.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
The Weekend Where Nothing Went as Planned, and Everyone Had a Blast
Yesterday was my birthday. I'm twenty-six...only four years away from thirty *cue hyperventilating and lamenting about all I haven't done.* Birthdays are really fun when you're a kid, but as you get older they get kind of ominous. Still fun, but also a little creepy. You're one year closer to the mysterious and nebulous line called "old."
To celebrate my birthday, my parents, Rex, and I decided to go to our cabin in northern Michigan. My friend Elle was flying in from Las Vegas, and we thought this would be a perfect Pure Michigan commercial kind of weekend. Backwoods log cabin, fluffy snow, warm fires and hot chocolate...you get the idea.
WELL, I don't think I've ever been more confident in saying that nothing went as planned. The only thing that actually went how I planned it was that everyone had a great time. Seriously. And when you hear what happened you might doubt me on that, but it's true. We had a blast.
Plans started changing even before we left. My friend Katie from Dayton, Ohio started texting me on Friday about my birthday plans, and I mentioned we were going to the cabin. I invited Katie and her husband to come join us, but I figured they wouldn't accept. After all, it's a six hour drive from Dayton to our cabin, and we were only going for a night. To my surprise, she accepted! How spontaneous and awesome! I was so pumped that she and Chris would be joining us.
A few hours later, Rex walked into the living room and told me that his friend Jake (whose birthday is the day before mine) suddenly had his birthday plans cancelled because his family couldn't go see him in Lansing anymore. Now he had nothing to do for his birthday (which is an obvious atrocity), so Rex invited him to go to the cabin with us. SWEET! So my small weekend of family and one friend had turned into a veritable party within just a few hours. Cool!
I wish I could say that all of the changes to our plans were that fun and positive, but I warn you: things start to go downhill from here. My family drove up to Walhalla, where our cabin is located, but we couldn't get through all of the deep snow to get back into the woods to the cabin itself. We had to get out of the car and trudge through the snow for about a quarter mile to get back to the cabin. Then I grabbed a sled and pulled it back up the giant hill to the car to pull all of our stuff down. Our dog Elvis rode on the sled too. He was a little confused about the process, but he was excited to be outside.
Once we actually got to the cabin, we were in for a new surprise: the furnace was broken. The cabin was freezing, and it looked like it was going to stay that way. I could see my breath as we discussed what to do. I was wearing my knee-length down-filled parka, and I was still cold. We couldn't just turn around and go home...we'd already driven two and a half hours to get there, and my friends were descending upon us in a matter of hours. To add insult to injury, the pipes had frozen too. That meant no running water (and no toilet!). We had to do something. We decided to split up: Dad and Rex would trek back up to the car, go into town, and try to find a furnace repair man who would be willing to work on the weekend. My mom, Elle, and I would stay in our igloo of a cabin and try to warm it up by building a fire.
We built a fire, but most of the heat went straight up the chimney. We sat by the fire and tried to keep warm, but it was really cold. I declared that I will officially never become an eskimo. I wanted things to warm up faster. That's when I had the idea to turn on the oven. After all, the electricity was still working. I checked to make sure it wasn't a gas oven (I didn't want to kill us all), and then I turned it on and opened the door. Surprisingly, this was pretty effective. I'm sure it's not the best way to heat a cabin (actually I'm sure it isn't), but it was better than waiting for the fireplace to work.
After waiting for about an hour, my dad and Rex returned victorious. There was a man willing to come look at the furnace! When he arrived, Rex had to go pick him up and show him the path through the woods to walk down to our cabin. Let me interject a moment to say that if I was the furnace man and some bearded guy in a giant hunter orange coat said, "Follow me through these dark woods to a cabin that I promise you is back in there a ways," I would probably say no. Apparently people are trusting in northern Michigan, though, because he said okay. I'm certainly glad he did, because he was able to fix the furnace. Hooray! Three cheers for the furnace guy!
By this time all of my friends had arrived, and they were all good sports about the freezing cabin. Thanks to furnace man, the cabin would now be not-so-freezing, but the pipes were still broken. That meant we had to go to the bathroom outside in the snow. Ummm...ew.
To minimize the effects of this situation, we decided to go out to dinner in town (about twenty miles away). That way we could use the bathrooms there. We had a TON of fun at dinner, and I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard. My friends are hilarious. I was wearing a birthday tiara, and at one point a little boy said, "Mommy, is that a real princess? She's so beautiful..." That obviously made my day, especially when the mom said, "Yes, honey, that's a real princess." Aw! So we had a delicious dinner, all used the bathroom, then make the drive/hike back to the cabin again.
Back at the cabin, people played Euchre for the next SIX HOURS. Personally I don't love that game, but it was fun to watch. I read a little bit and chatted with the people who weren't playing. We made snacks and basically just hung out. Then we went to bed (after we all inevitably had to pee outside...I built a make-shift toilet out of firewood). Then the real fun started.
I had been asleep for maybe a half hour when I heard a distinctive sound. It's a high-pitched click/screetch type of noise: the sound of a bat. I nudged Rex and said, "Rex, there's a bat in here." He mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over, going back to sleep. Playing Euchre until 4:30 AM really takes it out of the guy. I stared at the ceiling with my eyes wide open, as if I could use my non-existent night vision to see where the screetch came from. I knew that bats find their food through the use of echolocation, so I figured they wouldn't bite me on account of the fact that I was so much bigger than them. Probably. Just in case, I put on a hoodie and put the hood over my head. Because a thin layer of cotton will obviously stop a vicious bat. Whatever, it was 4:30. I wanted to sleep.
When we woke up in the morning, I mentioned the bat to Rex again. We looked up at the ceiling, and we were able to find two little bats snuggling in the corner of the vaulted ceiling. They would have been cute if they weren't, you know, bats. When my dad woke up we showed him the bats, and he grabbed a net to catch them. Of course, bats don't particularly enjoy being caught, so they put up a fuss. Specifically, they started flying all around the cabin. Ahhhh!! Rex grabbed a sharpened walking stick and a pillow, and he defended me. Jake snapped this picture, and I wish I could tell you that it was staged. It wasn't. In retrospect, what was Rex going to do? Spear the bat with a stick? Fend off its fangs with a pillow? I don't know.
Apparently making those bats angry caused some sort of bat uprising, because no fewer than FIVE bats flew out of the ceiling! PANIC!!! By this time everyone was awake, and they were all running around the cabin screaming and laughing and trying to take cover. My dad was chasing all of the bats with his butterfly net. Please take a moment to pause and picture this scene.
It was.....something else.
At one point Jake said, extremely calmly, "Uh, there is a bat on my pants." A bat had landed literally ON HIS JEANS. AHHHHHH!!! I would not have been calm about that. I would have screamed bloody murder. I mean, I'm not the type to jump on a couch if I see a spider, but a bat on my pants would have been a bit too much.
Once the bat-tastrophe was over, we all ate breakfast (breakfast casserole and muffins - yum!) and then started packing up and cleaning the cabin. A blizzard was on its way, and we wanted to get out before it hit. Unfortunately, due to some batty setbacks, that didn't quite happen. We ended up driving home in the blizzard. Even more unfortunately, Kate and Chris got into a car accident (see? I told you nothing went as planned). They were totally fine, but they were rear-ended and their car was a bit beat up. Shaken, they didn't want to drive all the way back to Ohio. They decided to stay with us in Kalamazoo. We drove back to my parents' house to get our car, but guess what? Our car was covered in a snow drift. It's actually still there...we haven't been able to get it out. So we ended up having an impromptu continuation of the birthday party and hung out at my parents house that night. Then school called and said I would have a snow day the next day, so that meant I could just relax and have fun with my friends. Katie and Chris called their respective work places and said they wouldn't be coming in, and then we basically had a blast for the rest of that night too! No bats this time, though, and we had running water. So basically we were in a palace. Hand-on-heart: I will never take toilets for granted again.
It was a crazy weekend for sure, but everyone told me what a great time they had. It's about making the most of what you've got and spending time with awesome people. I feel so blessed to have such fun and adventurous family and friends. Let's hope that the rest of my 26th year isn't as crazy as the beginning of it was!
To celebrate my birthday, my parents, Rex, and I decided to go to our cabin in northern Michigan. My friend Elle was flying in from Las Vegas, and we thought this would be a perfect Pure Michigan commercial kind of weekend. Backwoods log cabin, fluffy snow, warm fires and hot chocolate...you get the idea.
WELL, I don't think I've ever been more confident in saying that nothing went as planned. The only thing that actually went how I planned it was that everyone had a great time. Seriously. And when you hear what happened you might doubt me on that, but it's true. We had a blast.
Plans started changing even before we left. My friend Katie from Dayton, Ohio started texting me on Friday about my birthday plans, and I mentioned we were going to the cabin. I invited Katie and her husband to come join us, but I figured they wouldn't accept. After all, it's a six hour drive from Dayton to our cabin, and we were only going for a night. To my surprise, she accepted! How spontaneous and awesome! I was so pumped that she and Chris would be joining us.
A few hours later, Rex walked into the living room and told me that his friend Jake (whose birthday is the day before mine) suddenly had his birthday plans cancelled because his family couldn't go see him in Lansing anymore. Now he had nothing to do for his birthday (which is an obvious atrocity), so Rex invited him to go to the cabin with us. SWEET! So my small weekend of family and one friend had turned into a veritable party within just a few hours. Cool!
I wish I could say that all of the changes to our plans were that fun and positive, but I warn you: things start to go downhill from here. My family drove up to Walhalla, where our cabin is located, but we couldn't get through all of the deep snow to get back into the woods to the cabin itself. We had to get out of the car and trudge through the snow for about a quarter mile to get back to the cabin. Then I grabbed a sled and pulled it back up the giant hill to the car to pull all of our stuff down. Our dog Elvis rode on the sled too. He was a little confused about the process, but he was excited to be outside.
Once we actually got to the cabin, we were in for a new surprise: the furnace was broken. The cabin was freezing, and it looked like it was going to stay that way. I could see my breath as we discussed what to do. I was wearing my knee-length down-filled parka, and I was still cold. We couldn't just turn around and go home...we'd already driven two and a half hours to get there, and my friends were descending upon us in a matter of hours. To add insult to injury, the pipes had frozen too. That meant no running water (and no toilet!). We had to do something. We decided to split up: Dad and Rex would trek back up to the car, go into town, and try to find a furnace repair man who would be willing to work on the weekend. My mom, Elle, and I would stay in our igloo of a cabin and try to warm it up by building a fire.
We built a fire, but most of the heat went straight up the chimney. We sat by the fire and tried to keep warm, but it was really cold. I declared that I will officially never become an eskimo. I wanted things to warm up faster. That's when I had the idea to turn on the oven. After all, the electricity was still working. I checked to make sure it wasn't a gas oven (I didn't want to kill us all), and then I turned it on and opened the door. Surprisingly, this was pretty effective. I'm sure it's not the best way to heat a cabin (actually I'm sure it isn't), but it was better than waiting for the fireplace to work.
After waiting for about an hour, my dad and Rex returned victorious. There was a man willing to come look at the furnace! When he arrived, Rex had to go pick him up and show him the path through the woods to walk down to our cabin. Let me interject a moment to say that if I was the furnace man and some bearded guy in a giant hunter orange coat said, "Follow me through these dark woods to a cabin that I promise you is back in there a ways," I would probably say no. Apparently people are trusting in northern Michigan, though, because he said okay. I'm certainly glad he did, because he was able to fix the furnace. Hooray! Three cheers for the furnace guy!
By this time all of my friends had arrived, and they were all good sports about the freezing cabin. Thanks to furnace man, the cabin would now be not-so-freezing, but the pipes were still broken. That meant we had to go to the bathroom outside in the snow. Ummm...ew.
To minimize the effects of this situation, we decided to go out to dinner in town (about twenty miles away). That way we could use the bathrooms there. We had a TON of fun at dinner, and I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard. My friends are hilarious. I was wearing a birthday tiara, and at one point a little boy said, "Mommy, is that a real princess? She's so beautiful..." That obviously made my day, especially when the mom said, "Yes, honey, that's a real princess." Aw! So we had a delicious dinner, all used the bathroom, then make the drive/hike back to the cabin again.
Back at the cabin, people played Euchre for the next SIX HOURS. Personally I don't love that game, but it was fun to watch. I read a little bit and chatted with the people who weren't playing. We made snacks and basically just hung out. Then we went to bed (after we all inevitably had to pee outside...I built a make-shift toilet out of firewood). Then the real fun started.
I had been asleep for maybe a half hour when I heard a distinctive sound. It's a high-pitched click/screetch type of noise: the sound of a bat. I nudged Rex and said, "Rex, there's a bat in here." He mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over, going back to sleep. Playing Euchre until 4:30 AM really takes it out of the guy. I stared at the ceiling with my eyes wide open, as if I could use my non-existent night vision to see where the screetch came from. I knew that bats find their food through the use of echolocation, so I figured they wouldn't bite me on account of the fact that I was so much bigger than them. Probably. Just in case, I put on a hoodie and put the hood over my head. Because a thin layer of cotton will obviously stop a vicious bat. Whatever, it was 4:30. I wanted to sleep.
When we woke up in the morning, I mentioned the bat to Rex again. We looked up at the ceiling, and we were able to find two little bats snuggling in the corner of the vaulted ceiling. They would have been cute if they weren't, you know, bats. When my dad woke up we showed him the bats, and he grabbed a net to catch them. Of course, bats don't particularly enjoy being caught, so they put up a fuss. Specifically, they started flying all around the cabin. Ahhhh!! Rex grabbed a sharpened walking stick and a pillow, and he defended me. Jake snapped this picture, and I wish I could tell you that it was staged. It wasn't. In retrospect, what was Rex going to do? Spear the bat with a stick? Fend off its fangs with a pillow? I don't know.
Apparently making those bats angry caused some sort of bat uprising, because no fewer than FIVE bats flew out of the ceiling! PANIC!!! By this time everyone was awake, and they were all running around the cabin screaming and laughing and trying to take cover. My dad was chasing all of the bats with his butterfly net. Please take a moment to pause and picture this scene.
It was.....something else.
At one point Jake said, extremely calmly, "Uh, there is a bat on my pants." A bat had landed literally ON HIS JEANS. AHHHHHH!!! I would not have been calm about that. I would have screamed bloody murder. I mean, I'm not the type to jump on a couch if I see a spider, but a bat on my pants would have been a bit too much.
Once the bat-tastrophe was over, we all ate breakfast (breakfast casserole and muffins - yum!) and then started packing up and cleaning the cabin. A blizzard was on its way, and we wanted to get out before it hit. Unfortunately, due to some batty setbacks, that didn't quite happen. We ended up driving home in the blizzard. Even more unfortunately, Kate and Chris got into a car accident (see? I told you nothing went as planned). They were totally fine, but they were rear-ended and their car was a bit beat up. Shaken, they didn't want to drive all the way back to Ohio. They decided to stay with us in Kalamazoo. We drove back to my parents' house to get our car, but guess what? Our car was covered in a snow drift. It's actually still there...we haven't been able to get it out. So we ended up having an impromptu continuation of the birthday party and hung out at my parents house that night. Then school called and said I would have a snow day the next day, so that meant I could just relax and have fun with my friends. Katie and Chris called their respective work places and said they wouldn't be coming in, and then we basically had a blast for the rest of that night too! No bats this time, though, and we had running water. So basically we were in a palace. Hand-on-heart: I will never take toilets for granted again.
It was a crazy weekend for sure, but everyone told me what a great time they had. It's about making the most of what you've got and spending time with awesome people. I feel so blessed to have such fun and adventurous family and friends. Let's hope that the rest of my 26th year isn't as crazy as the beginning of it was!
Sunday, January 18, 2015
Apostrophe Atrocity
A new pizza parlor opened up on my side of town. It's called Blaze Pizza, and it serves the best personal pan pizzas around. I love it. I am bothered, though, that their promotional materials all advertised "Fast Fire'd Pizza." Why is there an apostrophe in "Fire'd"? It really bothers me. It shouldn't be there. This weekend I asked some employees about it, but they didn't have a solution. I decided to write to corporate and see what they had to say. Here is the e-mail I sent this afternoon:
Hello,
Hello,
I'm writing because I have a question about your marketing materials. I notice that they all say that your pizza is "fast fire'd." I'm confused by the presence of the potentially superfluous apostrophe. The word "fired" is usually spelled without an apostrophe, so I'm wondering why one is utilized in this case.
You're probably thinking to yourself, "Why does this girl have nothing better to do than question our apostrophes? Why doesn't she just shut up and enjoy our wonderful 'fast fire'd' pizza in peace?" I do, Blaze. I do. I love your pizza. I'll patronize your restaurant with or without erroneous punctuation. Your pizza is too delicious to miss. My conscience forces me to ask, though, because I'm an English teacher. I'm always telling my students to be on the lookout for spelling, grammar, and punctuation mistakes. Errors lurk in every corner of our society. I would be hypocritical if wasn't on the lookout as well.
The way I see it, grammar and punctuation are huge issues in the American mainstream population. Due to various educational failures, many citizens walk the streets without any knowledge of proper English. It's appalling. Therefore the main request of this e-mail is an educational one. If the apostrophe has a legitimate grammatical reason for appearing in your promotional materials, please explain it to me so that I can be more knowledgeable in instructing my children about punctuation. If it's not supposed to be there, can you please remove it so that we are not perpetuating apostrophe misuse to our impressionable youth?
I asked the staff at my local Blaze pizza about this issue, and none of them were able to help me. One of them is a college-level English student, and she too was perplexed. Please help me solve the mystery, and I will pass my answer along to the employees at my local store as well. Thank you!
Christine Webb
I don't know how far I'm willing to go with this grammar crusade. After all, Krispie Kreme has horrific spelling, yet I still eat their doughnuts. For some reason, punctuation errors seem worse than spelling ones. Especially since the spelling error at Krispie Kreme is obviously intentional. The error at Blaze is baffling. I wish they would fix it... it hurts my eyes. I will have to update later with a response if I get one!
Christine Webb
I don't know how far I'm willing to go with this grammar crusade. After all, Krispie Kreme has horrific spelling, yet I still eat their doughnuts. For some reason, punctuation errors seem worse than spelling ones. Especially since the spelling error at Krispie Kreme is obviously intentional. The error at Blaze is baffling. I wish they would fix it... it hurts my eyes. I will have to update later with a response if I get one!
Friday, January 2, 2015
Curtain Conundrum
It's weird to move. Your old home isn't your home anymore, but your new home doesn't really feel like home yet. You're an aimless drifter with no real place in the world, even though the name on the deed says the house is yours. Home is where you feel comfortable, where you know what to expect, and where you spend most of your time. Unfortunately, my current home isn't my old rental house, and it isn't my beautiful new house either. My home right now is the curtain aisle.
Which curtain aisle, you may ask? Oh, any one really. Kohls, Wal-Mart, Meijer, Target, Hobby Lobby...you name it. If the store has a curtain aisle, I've been living in it. I've spent probably around $500-$600 (and way too many hours) on curtains in the past week. Keep in mind that I've gotten most of the money back because I keep returning every curtain I buy, but my life is basically a revolving door of go-buy-more-curtains and no-wait-I-hate-them-take-them-back. I don't know why I can't just find some curtains that I like, but I can't. I keep looking for better ones. None of them feel "right." If you ask me how a "right" feeling curtain feels, I can't tell you that. I can only tell you that I'm hoping I'll know when I feel it.
My curtain aisle home is great. No matter which store I visit, they're all the same. Every aisle has the suave sample curtains to touch and inspect - are they too thin? Too thick? Too wild? Too bland? Then, when you think you might have found "the one," you have to rummage through all of the packs of curtains on the walls to find the one that matches the sample you like. Back when I was a curtain rookie, this was a difficult task. Now that I'm a seasoned pro, I understand that the curtain I want might be halfway across the aisle from the corresponding sample. I've developed an eagle eye for matching curtains to samples, just not for matching curtains to a living room. Do I want cheap curtains or expensive ones that insulate my room by giving "thermal protection"? Do I want light blocking curtains or breezy sheer ones? I don't know! I need help!
As I bought my seventh set of curtains today (!!!), I realized that this is a problem. I gave myself a mental newsflash: No one even cares about curtains! It's not like someone is going to come into my home and say, "Wow, Christine, you have such a beautiful house! It's just lovely! It's simply....oh.....uh....sorry, those heinous curtains ruined the whole thing. I hate it now." I don't recall ever judging someone based on their curtains. Come to think of it, I couldn't tell you what the curtains look like in any of my friends' houses. I don't even remember what the curtains looked like at my parents' house when I was growing up. Why am I wasting so much time and energy on a veritably invisible home good?!?
I need an intervention. Is there rehab for this? A support group? "Hi, I'm Christine, and I can't stop buying curtains."
"Hi, Christine."
A few days ago I finally found curtains for my dining room that I really liked. I thought, "YES! Finally! A curtain dilemma has gone my way!" Then when Rex got home, I pointed out our new curtains. He raised his eyebrows and said the worst thing ever: "Those ones? Are you sure those are the ones you actually want?"
*cue immediate spiral into self-doubt and curtainy insecurity*
Ahhhh! I immediately started to do the natural girly dumb thing to do: "You hate them. Why do you hate them? What's wrong with them? I like them!" Rex quickly backtracked and assured me that he doesn't hate the curtains, he just wanted to make sure that I liked them. Hmmmm...I secretly think that he might hate them, but you know what? I'm still juggling five sets of curtains that are sitting in my living room. I don't have time to do this for my dining room too. The curtains are staying unless Rex makes a formal complaint. The truth of the matter is that I don't think Rex will really notice them anyway. I could probably put Sponge Bob curtains in our bedroom, and he wouldn't notice unless I (misguidedly) asked him for his opinion. Note to all men: when women ask your design advice on something you don't actually care about, just tell her that whatever she's asking your advice about looks AWESOME! She's asking you because she needs to hear those words. She probably asked the dog earlier and interpreted his tail wagging as tacit approval, but she really needs it verbalized.
Not that I actually asked the dog about the curtains.
Because that would be ridiculous.
Right?
*nervous laughter*
It's like I took all of the anxiety I had over buying a house, and I've now channeled it into finding the perfect curtains. This is seriously messed up. Am I stressed about wall art? Tablecloths? Furniture? Of course not. But curtains? AHHHH! I shall never find the right ones!
That's it, I'm buying Sponge Bob curtains and calling it a day.
Which curtain aisle, you may ask? Oh, any one really. Kohls, Wal-Mart, Meijer, Target, Hobby Lobby...you name it. If the store has a curtain aisle, I've been living in it. I've spent probably around $500-$600 (and way too many hours) on curtains in the past week. Keep in mind that I've gotten most of the money back because I keep returning every curtain I buy, but my life is basically a revolving door of go-buy-more-curtains and no-wait-I-hate-them-take-them-back. I don't know why I can't just find some curtains that I like, but I can't. I keep looking for better ones. None of them feel "right." If you ask me how a "right" feeling curtain feels, I can't tell you that. I can only tell you that I'm hoping I'll know when I feel it.
My curtain aisle home is great. No matter which store I visit, they're all the same. Every aisle has the suave sample curtains to touch and inspect - are they too thin? Too thick? Too wild? Too bland? Then, when you think you might have found "the one," you have to rummage through all of the packs of curtains on the walls to find the one that matches the sample you like. Back when I was a curtain rookie, this was a difficult task. Now that I'm a seasoned pro, I understand that the curtain I want might be halfway across the aisle from the corresponding sample. I've developed an eagle eye for matching curtains to samples, just not for matching curtains to a living room. Do I want cheap curtains or expensive ones that insulate my room by giving "thermal protection"? Do I want light blocking curtains or breezy sheer ones? I don't know! I need help!
As I bought my seventh set of curtains today (!!!), I realized that this is a problem. I gave myself a mental newsflash: No one even cares about curtains! It's not like someone is going to come into my home and say, "Wow, Christine, you have such a beautiful house! It's just lovely! It's simply....oh.....uh....sorry, those heinous curtains ruined the whole thing. I hate it now." I don't recall ever judging someone based on their curtains. Come to think of it, I couldn't tell you what the curtains look like in any of my friends' houses. I don't even remember what the curtains looked like at my parents' house when I was growing up. Why am I wasting so much time and energy on a veritably invisible home good?!?
I need an intervention. Is there rehab for this? A support group? "Hi, I'm Christine, and I can't stop buying curtains."
"Hi, Christine."
A few days ago I finally found curtains for my dining room that I really liked. I thought, "YES! Finally! A curtain dilemma has gone my way!" Then when Rex got home, I pointed out our new curtains. He raised his eyebrows and said the worst thing ever: "Those ones? Are you sure those are the ones you actually want?"
*cue immediate spiral into self-doubt and curtainy insecurity*
Ahhhh! I immediately started to do the natural girly dumb thing to do: "You hate them. Why do you hate them? What's wrong with them? I like them!" Rex quickly backtracked and assured me that he doesn't hate the curtains, he just wanted to make sure that I liked them. Hmmmm...I secretly think that he might hate them, but you know what? I'm still juggling five sets of curtains that are sitting in my living room. I don't have time to do this for my dining room too. The curtains are staying unless Rex makes a formal complaint. The truth of the matter is that I don't think Rex will really notice them anyway. I could probably put Sponge Bob curtains in our bedroom, and he wouldn't notice unless I (misguidedly) asked him for his opinion. Note to all men: when women ask your design advice on something you don't actually care about, just tell her that whatever she's asking your advice about looks AWESOME! She's asking you because she needs to hear those words. She probably asked the dog earlier and interpreted his tail wagging as tacit approval, but she really needs it verbalized.
Not that I actually asked the dog about the curtains.
Because that would be ridiculous.
Right?
*nervous laughter*
It's like I took all of the anxiety I had over buying a house, and I've now channeled it into finding the perfect curtains. This is seriously messed up. Am I stressed about wall art? Tablecloths? Furniture? Of course not. But curtains? AHHHH! I shall never find the right ones!
That's it, I'm buying Sponge Bob curtains and calling it a day.
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