Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Well...it's here
It used to be that bug bites for me meant summer had started. Apparently, the bugs are starting earlier and earlier, because I received my first big huge bite on Saturday. So I guess now, itchiness heralds the arrival of Spring. Huzzah!
Thursday, April 24, 2008
That poem was good...until you went all Thomas Kinkade on it's ass
I am not sure why I love hotels so much, but I do. It started when I was a kid, because even then I have memories of being super excited whenever we stayed in a hotel. Maybe it was because if we were staying in a hotel it meant vacation, but I really think there’s more to it.
Hotels meant little cute soaps that have never been touched by anyone else. It’s a cozy space where bedtimes don’t apply, the air conditioner can be on full blast, cable TV for free, and you’re going out to eat or you’re eating continental breakfasts full of cherry turnovers and chocolate cake doughnuts. If you picked the right one, there’s a sweet pool and a hot tub. The TV is right at the foot of your bed, you can turn off all the lights without leaving your bed, and if you have to go to the bathroom – bonus!- it’s only three steps away!
Hotels mean you’re on an adventure, and likely pretty excited about it. Even now when I’m not such a little kid, I still am happy when I’m greeted by the sight of a perfectly tucked bed, a locked mini-fridge, and a coffee maker with individual sized coffee packs to brew.
I remember staying in hotels at Disneyworld when I was 9-10, and staying in hotels on the way to the Grand Canyon when I was 13-14. Then of course, there were the sweet cabin/hotel rooms/resort thing at Big Bear, the place we stayed in the summer whenever we went to Lake of the Ozarks. Big Bear was particularly awesome because for some reason when we were there, Sara and I got to stay in the bedroom, and Mom and Dad slept on the fold out sofa bed. Maybe the sofa bed was bigger, I don’t remember. What I do remember was the fact that Harry and the Henderson’s was always on TV, the bedspread in the bedroom was animal print, and the stairs around the dining room table were big huge cluncky things that has big brass furniture tacks in them. The chandelier was a big thing hung from the ceiling as well, and dark wood and brass fake candles, if I remember right. The whole thing, along with the fake wood paneling gave off a very renaissance dungeon feeling, but goodness, I loved that place. We didn’t have a boat, or jet skis or anything cool like that, but we could stay all day swimming in the lake practicing our back dives, floating on our life jackets, and fishing n the evening. I believe that we lost one fishing pole, one set of keys, a couple of flashlights, and various other things to that lake. We didn’t swim in the pool all that much, even though they had one, I mean come on, if it’s pool vs. lake, lake wins everytime! It’s amazing the things we did to amuse ourselves.
There was also a strip of arcades on the dam, and a candy store where you could buy a bouquet of maybe 15-20 tootsie roll pops for a dollar or something obscene like that. That store also honored the ‘Indian shooting a star rule’ and would give you free ones if you turned the wrapper in. I love Skeet ball, and we played it all day. The dam was great because you could cuss while you were there. ‘Is that the dam tower?’ ‘Where’s the dam taco shell company?’ “Hey Sara, move that dam rock!’ That’s pretty rebellious when you are a kid.
All in all, I’m sure that everyone has a spot that really truly represents happiness to them. I think the lake was one of those places, and somehow it came to symbolize all the joy and carelessness and happiness that comes along with childhood.
I really thought this was all about hotels, because I stayed at one recently, and I was going to describe it and all it’s weird quirks, but somehow it just turned into some sort of sentimental walk through Lake of the Ozarks, which I guess just means that I myself am feeling a little sentimental. But not in a Thomas Kinkade-pretty-cottages-and-flowers-kind of way.
(I had a poetry teacher once who hated Thomas Kinkade. So therefore everything that was flowery and clichéd and boring became Thomas Kinkade. As in ‘That poem was good, until you went all Thomas Kinkade on it’s ass in that third stanza.’) (and now I'v found my new favorite quote, and the title for this entry.)
Sometimes I hate blogging, because I can’t get myself out of the ‘intro, three paragraph, conclusion’ formula. And I feel guilty when I don’t have a conclusion.
So no conclusion today suckers, I gotta kick my English major habits.
Hotels meant little cute soaps that have never been touched by anyone else. It’s a cozy space where bedtimes don’t apply, the air conditioner can be on full blast, cable TV for free, and you’re going out to eat or you’re eating continental breakfasts full of cherry turnovers and chocolate cake doughnuts. If you picked the right one, there’s a sweet pool and a hot tub. The TV is right at the foot of your bed, you can turn off all the lights without leaving your bed, and if you have to go to the bathroom – bonus!- it’s only three steps away!
Hotels mean you’re on an adventure, and likely pretty excited about it. Even now when I’m not such a little kid, I still am happy when I’m greeted by the sight of a perfectly tucked bed, a locked mini-fridge, and a coffee maker with individual sized coffee packs to brew.
I remember staying in hotels at Disneyworld when I was 9-10, and staying in hotels on the way to the Grand Canyon when I was 13-14. Then of course, there were the sweet cabin/hotel rooms/resort thing at Big Bear, the place we stayed in the summer whenever we went to Lake of the Ozarks. Big Bear was particularly awesome because for some reason when we were there, Sara and I got to stay in the bedroom, and Mom and Dad slept on the fold out sofa bed. Maybe the sofa bed was bigger, I don’t remember. What I do remember was the fact that Harry and the Henderson’s was always on TV, the bedspread in the bedroom was animal print, and the stairs around the dining room table were big huge cluncky things that has big brass furniture tacks in them. The chandelier was a big thing hung from the ceiling as well, and dark wood and brass fake candles, if I remember right. The whole thing, along with the fake wood paneling gave off a very renaissance dungeon feeling, but goodness, I loved that place. We didn’t have a boat, or jet skis or anything cool like that, but we could stay all day swimming in the lake practicing our back dives, floating on our life jackets, and fishing n the evening. I believe that we lost one fishing pole, one set of keys, a couple of flashlights, and various other things to that lake. We didn’t swim in the pool all that much, even though they had one, I mean come on, if it’s pool vs. lake, lake wins everytime! It’s amazing the things we did to amuse ourselves.
There was also a strip of arcades on the dam, and a candy store where you could buy a bouquet of maybe 15-20 tootsie roll pops for a dollar or something obscene like that. That store also honored the ‘Indian shooting a star rule’ and would give you free ones if you turned the wrapper in. I love Skeet ball, and we played it all day. The dam was great because you could cuss while you were there. ‘Is that the dam tower?’ ‘Where’s the dam taco shell company?’ “Hey Sara, move that dam rock!’ That’s pretty rebellious when you are a kid.
All in all, I’m sure that everyone has a spot that really truly represents happiness to them. I think the lake was one of those places, and somehow it came to symbolize all the joy and carelessness and happiness that comes along with childhood.
I really thought this was all about hotels, because I stayed at one recently, and I was going to describe it and all it’s weird quirks, but somehow it just turned into some sort of sentimental walk through Lake of the Ozarks, which I guess just means that I myself am feeling a little sentimental. But not in a Thomas Kinkade-pretty-cottages-and-flowers-kind of way.
(I had a poetry teacher once who hated Thomas Kinkade. So therefore everything that was flowery and clichéd and boring became Thomas Kinkade. As in ‘That poem was good, until you went all Thomas Kinkade on it’s ass in that third stanza.’) (and now I'v found my new favorite quote, and the title for this entry.)
Sometimes I hate blogging, because I can’t get myself out of the ‘intro, three paragraph, conclusion’ formula. And I feel guilty when I don’t have a conclusion.
So no conclusion today suckers, I gotta kick my English major habits.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Things that add up to an entire entry
So a full time job and full time school makes one’s blog become stale….
There were so many things that at I wanted to check in and write about, like:
1. Going to the book store last Wednesday and finding a book called ‘Becoming a millionaire: God’s way’ I kid you not. I always knew the prosperity Gospel was out there, heck, I see Joel Osteen on the TV all the time just like the next guy. It’s just that is wasn’t even disguised as anything but a smack-you-in-the-face ‘God wants us to drive better cars than other people’ Book. Really? Really.
2. The elevator is where most people bitch about their jobs.
3. We now have a lilac bush in our yard by the driveway, petunias in a hanging pot out back, begonias in the front, impatients in the front and the back, and peonies planted out back. It’s going to smell so good around here! I am most excited about the peonies, because that’s what we had all over our yard when I was little. Ben is most excited about the lilac plant because they had one outside his house when he was growing up. When we were on our way home I said ‘Awww, look, Ben, we’re blending our families horticulturally!’ He was amused.
4. I have a real honest to goodness salaried job.
5. My grandmother passed away on Saturday from pancreatic cancer and a little bit of plain old age. I do not know what to write about this yet.
There were so many things that at I wanted to check in and write about, like:
1. Going to the book store last Wednesday and finding a book called ‘Becoming a millionaire: God’s way’ I kid you not. I always knew the prosperity Gospel was out there, heck, I see Joel Osteen on the TV all the time just like the next guy. It’s just that is wasn’t even disguised as anything but a smack-you-in-the-face ‘God wants us to drive better cars than other people’ Book. Really? Really.
2. The elevator is where most people bitch about their jobs.
3. We now have a lilac bush in our yard by the driveway, petunias in a hanging pot out back, begonias in the front, impatients in the front and the back, and peonies planted out back. It’s going to smell so good around here! I am most excited about the peonies, because that’s what we had all over our yard when I was little. Ben is most excited about the lilac plant because they had one outside his house when he was growing up. When we were on our way home I said ‘Awww, look, Ben, we’re blending our families horticulturally!’ He was amused.
4. I have a real honest to goodness salaried job.
5. My grandmother passed away on Saturday from pancreatic cancer and a little bit of plain old age. I do not know what to write about this yet.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Reality TV actually makes sense for two seconds...
'So I want to ask, will we be the generation that eradicates injustice for the poor? Or will we continue to let our voice be silenced?'
-Alicia Keys,
Tonight on 'American Idol:Idol Gives Back'
-Alicia Keys,
Tonight on 'American Idol:Idol Gives Back'
People that startle me
There's this guy who works in the office I work with. technically, we work for two different companies, but we are housed in the same building. He doesn't live in this state, he flies in every week from somewhere else. And he's the only guy consistently at our office.
We wouldn't have to intereact at all, and we really don't except my desk is in the front of the office, by the door. I think he feels obligated to say 'hello' and 'goodbye' everytime he comes and goes. That is the extent of our conversation.
However, the man walks around the office like he is hunting a snake that has severely pissed him off, and he's going to do that snake in as soon as he catches up with it. Fast, stomping, head down, arms swingin' away.
Everytime I hear him coming up behind me, it makes me jump. Stomp, stomp, stomp...... *open door* Stomp, stomp stomp........*door slams closed*
We wouldn't have to intereact at all, and we really don't except my desk is in the front of the office, by the door. I think he feels obligated to say 'hello' and 'goodbye' everytime he comes and goes. That is the extent of our conversation.
However, the man walks around the office like he is hunting a snake that has severely pissed him off, and he's going to do that snake in as soon as he catches up with it. Fast, stomping, head down, arms swingin' away.
Everytime I hear him coming up behind me, it makes me jump. Stomp, stomp, stomp...... *open door* Stomp, stomp stomp........*door slams closed*
Monday, April 7, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
