My umbrella is (was) fabulous. Purchased for a mere $5.00 at Wal-Mart (don't judge), it was a picture of fiscal responsibility. Black with white and yellow flowers, a soft, sponge-y u-shaped handle; it was lovely, affordable and useful. A rare buy in my experience. Unfortunately, umbrella has definitely celebrated his last hurrah. Due partially to my abuse, and mostly to the inhuman wind yesterday, umbrella will shortly be laid to rest. Here follows the tale of the the untimely demise of Umbrella:
Umbrella has been a silent stow-away in my work bag, and sometimes in my purse, for quite some time now. It sits there quietly waiting for a rainy day during which it can fulfill its simple purpose: keeping me dry. I decided to put umbrella in my purse, rather than in my work bag, for a short trip to Wisconsin last month. I was sitting at McDonald's with the fiance, Ninny-Muggins and Baby Ninny-Muggins, and suddenly I felt an unnerving POP from inside my purse. What was that? Did a mislaid bottle of soda just explode? Is there a rubber band-snapping purse gremlin hiding in there? Should I be afraid of putting my hand inside for fear that it might be covered in lotion/contact solution/makeup/whatever-other-viscous-fluid-was-lurking-in-a-not-safe-for-purses-container? But alas, it was poor umbrella that had caused the ruckus. Umbrella had twisted himself in such a way that his poor squishy handle snapped off. Inside my purse. WTF...??? Anyway, despite losing a limb to a violent, yet unintentional accident, umbrella and I persevered, and although injured, umbrella lived to shield me from rain another day (yesterday to be exact).
Yesterday's weather definitely left something to be desired. Rainy and very windy. The perfect day to stay inside, but for those of us that had to leave the house, it was, to say the least, unpleasant. I got to work at my usual time, and proceeded to patrol the parking lot looking for a space. Ordinarily I am able to find a parking space in the closest lot, however apparently the universe thought yesterday was the day to poo on me so naturally there were no spots available. I had to park essentially in Guam, which instantly put me in a bad mood.
I grabbed trusty Umbrella and got out of the car to brave the long trek into the building. Immediately, the wind caught poor umbrella and flipped his innards out and bent his hinges in unnatural directions. It was like a scene from a bad horror movie. Reminiscent of Linda Blair crawling down the stairs upside down and contorted in "The Exorcist". Luckily, umbrella was able to flip himself back into a decent shape, but the wind had not finished its cruel ordeal. As I began the long walk to the building, the wind was relentless. It continued beating and battering umbrella within an inch of his life. Umbrella did his best to protect me from the rain and wind, acting more as a shield in front of me, rather than as a canopy over me. His hinges were all bent around me as the wind proceeded to flip him inside out several more times before I reached the safety of the lobby.
Once we got inside, I surveyed the damage. Umbrella was sufficiently beaten. But he had to live to fight for one more journey from the building back out to my car. After my shift yesterday, we again made the journey from the building to the car. Umbrella tried his hardest to perform his umbrellical duties. He was again rendered inside-out several times, but he has finally been put to rest down the trash chute it my apartment building. It was a sad day, but umbrella will be remembered fondly. R.I.P. umbrella.
Update: I just found out that the evil wind and rain from yesterday claimed another umbrella victim. A sad day for umbrellas everywhere.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Automated Bathrooms are the Devil.
We've all been there. You're in a public bathroom stall, minding your own business... literally... just letting your mind wander as your body does what it was designed to do, and all of a sudden WHOOSH!!!! The flippin' toilet flushes all by itself causing you to receive an uncomfortably damp hiney; damp with nasty toilet water and all the other unspeakable things which were recently deposited. What folly is this? The toilet just flushes by itself? As if operated by some demonic toilet troll who relishes in delight at the prospect of causing severe uncomfortableness in even the least zealous of germ-o-phobes? Who's idea was this?
It truly is a sad commentary on the world we live in when expecting individuals to merely FLUSH after themselves is simply too much to ask. I like to think that we, as a human race, would collectively be able to handle such a menial expectation. After all, no one wants to look at that. There is such a nice and convenient little lever provided just for the purpose of ridding the world of such ugly sights. It is almost even satisfying to be able to just press a button to clean up after oneself. If only everything were that easy. But alas. Even the simplest of expectations is sadly not met by everyone. I was the victim of just such an individual a mere three days ago. I entered the public facility, opened the stall door and to my horror, I was greeted by a most disturbing sight. I won't go into detail, but there is just something about seeing the digestive remains of another human being that is, in a word, gross. So the rationale behind creating automatically flushing toilets is not completely lost on me, but I am still deeply disappointed in humanity for necessitating such an invention.
I am convinced the automatic flushing apparatus in these toilets was designed by some twisted sadist that enjoys causing havoc in the lives of his invention's unwilling users. It is simply impossible for the stupid thing to work properly at the appropriate time. It will flush when you are not at all prepared or ready for flushing to occur, creating the damp and germy hiney situation described in some detail above; or it will simply refuse to flush when appropriate, causing the user to unnecessarily fret that she will be labeled as one of the "dirty ones" on whom flushing etiquette is lost. This cannot and should not be.
Moving on. Only slightly less sinister than the automated toilet is the automated sink. The automated sink coupled with the automated soap dispenser is the Devil's Duo from Hell. When one works, the other invariably malfunctions. You will either have wet hands with no soap, or worse, soapy hands with no way to rinse them. The user is forced into engage in a ridiculous dance of jumping from sink to sink trying desperately to find at least one sink and one soap dispenser that will function properly so as to rinse the germy splashes from the evil automated toilet from her skin. We have all engaged in this dance and if you deny it, it is clear that you are a fibber.
Finally, it is an undeniable truth that automatic hand dryers will never operate properly at any time. You will stand there like an idiot with dripping wet hands, waving them wildly under the dryer, trying to appease the sensor which relishes in your damp helplessness. Eventually you will come to a mental crossroads. Do you stand there and continue flailing to attempt to make the dryer work? Or do you give up, admit defeat, wipe your wet hands on your pants and leave the bathroom a lesser person than when you entered because you were foiled by the automated beast?
Now I understand the rationale behind these automated bathrooms. Germ-o-phobes will tout their praises to the heavens (I'm talking to you, Ninny-muggins), but in my humble opinion, I'd much rather take my chances with the Ebolas and Bird Flus of the world than prepare for automated battle each and every time I enter a public restroom. But maybe that's just me.
It truly is a sad commentary on the world we live in when expecting individuals to merely FLUSH after themselves is simply too much to ask. I like to think that we, as a human race, would collectively be able to handle such a menial expectation. After all, no one wants to look at that. There is such a nice and convenient little lever provided just for the purpose of ridding the world of such ugly sights. It is almost even satisfying to be able to just press a button to clean up after oneself. If only everything were that easy. But alas. Even the simplest of expectations is sadly not met by everyone. I was the victim of just such an individual a mere three days ago. I entered the public facility, opened the stall door and to my horror, I was greeted by a most disturbing sight. I won't go into detail, but there is just something about seeing the digestive remains of another human being that is, in a word, gross. So the rationale behind creating automatically flushing toilets is not completely lost on me, but I am still deeply disappointed in humanity for necessitating such an invention.
I am convinced the automatic flushing apparatus in these toilets was designed by some twisted sadist that enjoys causing havoc in the lives of his invention's unwilling users. It is simply impossible for the stupid thing to work properly at the appropriate time. It will flush when you are not at all prepared or ready for flushing to occur, creating the damp and germy hiney situation described in some detail above; or it will simply refuse to flush when appropriate, causing the user to unnecessarily fret that she will be labeled as one of the "dirty ones" on whom flushing etiquette is lost. This cannot and should not be.
Moving on. Only slightly less sinister than the automated toilet is the automated sink. The automated sink coupled with the automated soap dispenser is the Devil's Duo from Hell. When one works, the other invariably malfunctions. You will either have wet hands with no soap, or worse, soapy hands with no way to rinse them. The user is forced into engage in a ridiculous dance of jumping from sink to sink trying desperately to find at least one sink and one soap dispenser that will function properly so as to rinse the germy splashes from the evil automated toilet from her skin. We have all engaged in this dance and if you deny it, it is clear that you are a fibber.
Finally, it is an undeniable truth that automatic hand dryers will never operate properly at any time. You will stand there like an idiot with dripping wet hands, waving them wildly under the dryer, trying to appease the sensor which relishes in your damp helplessness. Eventually you will come to a mental crossroads. Do you stand there and continue flailing to attempt to make the dryer work? Or do you give up, admit defeat, wipe your wet hands on your pants and leave the bathroom a lesser person than when you entered because you were foiled by the automated beast?
Now I understand the rationale behind these automated bathrooms. Germ-o-phobes will tout their praises to the heavens (I'm talking to you, Ninny-muggins), but in my humble opinion, I'd much rather take my chances with the Ebolas and Bird Flus of the world than prepare for automated battle each and every time I enter a public restroom. But maybe that's just me.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
A Shambles.
You know that old saying, "when it rains, it pours"? Well dear reader, it is freaking pouring. I have been hunting for a new job for longer than I care to admit for several reasons. First, it is simply time that I moved on because although my current job has been amazing and I have learned more than I ever expected to, I have reached the point where it is simply time that I branch out and take on a new challenge. Second, as many of you know, I am currently living in what I affectionately call "the sticks", and I have been more than ready for a LONG time to get back to civilization (a.k.a. the Twin Cities).
So, fast forward to last MONDAY... a mere 6 days ago, when I got the phone call I have been begging for over the past year and a half. I GOT A NEW JOB. Is this really happening?? Am I finally getting what I've wanted for so long and have been cruelly denied?? Do I actually get to move back to a place where "going to Target" is not a day long escapade??? YES!!! That is a huge affirmative!!! WAHOO!!!!!!!!!
Now that the excitement of "getting back to civilization" has worn off, reality has set in. And reality is a tad overwhelming. I will be starting said new job one week from tomorrow. New job is 3 hours away. This requires moving. I have not started packing...I have a lot of stuff...I should go through the stuff..the stuff is EVERYWHERE..do I have time to go through the stuff or do I just shove all the stuff in boxes? Do I have enough boxes? I need to find a truck... and helpers... and boxes... and change addresses and forward mail and find a new apartment and pay security deposits and find a subleaser and BOOM!!!!!!!!!!
That was the sound of my head exploding.
It is indeed pouring. One big part of my stress was alleviated yesterday when the fiance and I found a great apartment and signed our lease. Now at least I have an address to start using for changing addresses, etc. I will, for the first time since I last lived with my Mom and Dad, have my own DISHWASHER (this is cause for celebration), and my own WASHER AND DRYER in our apartment! No more lugging huge laundry baskets through the snowbank, into my car, to the laundromat, back into the car, and through the snowbank and back into the house. I can simply toss my clothes in the washer that only WE get to use which is a mere 15 feet away. SO EXCITED. And the most important part of all??? I won't feel the need to hoard quarters away every time I find one in my wallet because I need them for laundry. I can go buy a gumball if I want and I don't have to feel guilty. Yes. These are the things I think about.
I am a very type A person and I am a huge fan of lists, therefore this is quite obviously a time when lists are my best friend. I get great personal satisfaction from being able to cross something off my list when it is completed (no matter how minuscule). I'll even consider putting stupid crap on my list just for the joy it brings me to cross it off... for example, I may put something like "clip toenails" on my moving list because it serves two distinct purposes. First, it is something simple that I can do in minimal time and then I get to cross it off my list... and feel a sense of accomplishment. Second, it is a relatively unimportant and not necessarily productive thing I can do to procrastinate and distract me from the important and pressing things (read: packing my entire household into boxes) that actually need to get done. A girl needs priorities.
That being said, I currently have T-minus 6 days in which to pack my entire house into boxes capable of withstanding a move in the dead of winter. Clearly, it is time to clip the toenails and cross that off my list. I am a pure example of productivity.
So, fast forward to last MONDAY... a mere 6 days ago, when I got the phone call I have been begging for over the past year and a half. I GOT A NEW JOB. Is this really happening?? Am I finally getting what I've wanted for so long and have been cruelly denied?? Do I actually get to move back to a place where "going to Target" is not a day long escapade??? YES!!! That is a huge affirmative!!! WAHOO!!!!!!!!!
Now that the excitement of "getting back to civilization" has worn off, reality has set in. And reality is a tad overwhelming. I will be starting said new job one week from tomorrow. New job is 3 hours away. This requires moving. I have not started packing...I have a lot of stuff...I should go through the stuff..the stuff is EVERYWHERE..do I have time to go through the stuff or do I just shove all the stuff in boxes? Do I have enough boxes? I need to find a truck... and helpers... and boxes... and change addresses and forward mail and find a new apartment and pay security deposits and find a subleaser and BOOM!!!!!!!!!!
That was the sound of my head exploding.
It is indeed pouring. One big part of my stress was alleviated yesterday when the fiance and I found a great apartment and signed our lease. Now at least I have an address to start using for changing addresses, etc. I will, for the first time since I last lived with my Mom and Dad, have my own DISHWASHER (this is cause for celebration), and my own WASHER AND DRYER in our apartment! No more lugging huge laundry baskets through the snowbank, into my car, to the laundromat, back into the car, and through the snowbank and back into the house. I can simply toss my clothes in the washer that only WE get to use which is a mere 15 feet away. SO EXCITED. And the most important part of all??? I won't feel the need to hoard quarters away every time I find one in my wallet because I need them for laundry. I can go buy a gumball if I want and I don't have to feel guilty. Yes. These are the things I think about.
I am a very type A person and I am a huge fan of lists, therefore this is quite obviously a time when lists are my best friend. I get great personal satisfaction from being able to cross something off my list when it is completed (no matter how minuscule). I'll even consider putting stupid crap on my list just for the joy it brings me to cross it off... for example, I may put something like "clip toenails" on my moving list because it serves two distinct purposes. First, it is something simple that I can do in minimal time and then I get to cross it off my list... and feel a sense of accomplishment. Second, it is a relatively unimportant and not necessarily productive thing I can do to procrastinate and distract me from the important and pressing things (read: packing my entire household into boxes) that actually need to get done. A girl needs priorities.
That being said, I currently have T-minus 6 days in which to pack my entire house into boxes capable of withstanding a move in the dead of winter. Clearly, it is time to clip the toenails and cross that off my list. I am a pure example of productivity.
Monday, January 3, 2011
New Year's Eve Musings
I distinctly recall a New Year's Eve (NYE) several years ago where I just HAD to have a certain outfit to wear and HAD to have a perfect party and HAD to go out to the bars afterward and HAD to have a perfect night. I remember finding an awesome top on line and spending nearly $90 on it (plus expedited shipping) so that I would have my awesome NYE outfit. Despite the fact that it had a gorgeous beaded peacock on it, even I have to admit that $90 was a tad excessive. Not to mention the money and time spent in preparing for my party/paying cover charges at bars/drink expenses. And quite honestly, it was a fun night (I suppose) but honestly not much different than any other night out, other than the higher bill. I thought that the whole evening was just a prelude to the magical moment at midnight when everyone cheers and drinks champagne and kisses one another. And when that moment came, your whole night was supposed to be transformed into one of those movie moments where you are having the time of your life and champagne rains from the heavens. Get real.
I've had several NYEs along those same lines and all of them seem to end up being a bit of a let down because we put so much pressure on one night to be this magical end all/be all of awesome trophy worthy nights. I've actually had plenty of nights out that end up being so much better than NYE because they were very unplanned, unchoreographed and impromptu so that you focus on the good time you're actually having, rather than the amazing time you're supposed to be having. (An evening of speaking Arabic to cab drivers and getting cheese in one's hair comes to mind). So for the past few years, I've eschewed the pursuit of grandeur and had significantly lower key NYEs and had way more fun in the process.
Last year, I recall my "prefect outfit" consisting of my ratty UWO sweatshirt, socks and jeans. I spent the evening with good friends drinking a few beers and playing Nintendo Wii all night. Who knew that 4 player Super Mario Brothers could be so amusing... I had a great time. Then this year, I again spent the time with great friends and my new fiancee. We all went to dinner at a fun new Italian place in St. Paul, then went back home and watched a movie and completely missed midnight because we weren't even paying attention. And again, I had a great time. No pressure or expectations, just fun (and an awesome olive selection... seriously, try out Scusi, you won't regret it).
Maybe I'm just getting old and lame, but these days I'd prefer a good meal and a good movie to a bar and a crowded dance floor. So happy New Year and Happy 2011 to everyone from this fallen away NYE partier!!! I'll sit here with my sweatshirt and beer and go to bed early and leave the insane NYE partying to those that are much cooler than I!
I've had several NYEs along those same lines and all of them seem to end up being a bit of a let down because we put so much pressure on one night to be this magical end all/be all of awesome trophy worthy nights. I've actually had plenty of nights out that end up being so much better than NYE because they were very unplanned, unchoreographed and impromptu so that you focus on the good time you're actually having, rather than the amazing time you're supposed to be having. (An evening of speaking Arabic to cab drivers and getting cheese in one's hair comes to mind). So for the past few years, I've eschewed the pursuit of grandeur and had significantly lower key NYEs and had way more fun in the process.
Last year, I recall my "prefect outfit" consisting of my ratty UWO sweatshirt, socks and jeans. I spent the evening with good friends drinking a few beers and playing Nintendo Wii all night. Who knew that 4 player Super Mario Brothers could be so amusing... I had a great time. Then this year, I again spent the time with great friends and my new fiancee. We all went to dinner at a fun new Italian place in St. Paul, then went back home and watched a movie and completely missed midnight because we weren't even paying attention. And again, I had a great time. No pressure or expectations, just fun (and an awesome olive selection... seriously, try out Scusi, you won't regret it).
Maybe I'm just getting old and lame, but these days I'd prefer a good meal and a good movie to a bar and a crowded dance floor. So happy New Year and Happy 2011 to everyone from this fallen away NYE partier!!! I'll sit here with my sweatshirt and beer and go to bed early and leave the insane NYE partying to those that are much cooler than I!
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
I feel Like a 6th Grader.
I always thought that once a person was no longer tied to some sort of academic institution that the concept of "Christmas Vacation" would fly right out the window. At that point in life, there are no more socially mandated days (or weeks) off from your every day responsibilities. Now, you'd be lucky to get one paid day off if you worked for the right organization. Never again would the final days of class drag by as you awaited the fateful final bell before winter break. Never again would delicious treats grace your workspace to begin the sugar induced coma that you would enjoy for the entire vacation. I thought that all of these things were over once I entered the adult (read: lame) world and held a real job and had to be a grown up.
Recently however, I have discovered that I was mistaken. The anticipation and frustration with the slow moving clock during the days before Christmas are alive and well in my world. Although I may not be looking forward to nearly a month of zero-responsibilities (ah... how I miss college...), I am able to look forward to 5.5 days of zero-responsibilities, and these days, that is definitely a lot. I find myself having a hard time concentrating on the tasks at hand because I'm too busy thinking about the cookies I get to bake, the tree I get to decorate (because Mom and Dad have "conveniently" decided to let me do it once I arrive -- which I don't mind at all, but I still find kind of funny), the movies I get to watch (24 hours straight of "A Christmas Story" anyone??), and the time I get to spend with my awesome parents who I generally don't get to hang out with nearly enough.
As a sixth grader, most of the anticipation of the winter break came from the hordes of presents that awaited me (MUST HAVE BARBIES), but now the currency of choice is simply relaxation time. Maybe that means I'm a grown-up now (how did that happen??), but I don't care. I'm still sitting here, eating candy canes, anxiously awaiting the moment when I can forget every-day things like work and bills and shoveling snow, and can jump on that plane to Nashville. In the meantime, I'll continue pretending to care about things like summary judgment and DUI's and restitution. Sigh. Is it tomorrow yet?
Recently however, I have discovered that I was mistaken. The anticipation and frustration with the slow moving clock during the days before Christmas are alive and well in my world. Although I may not be looking forward to nearly a month of zero-responsibilities (ah... how I miss college...), I am able to look forward to 5.5 days of zero-responsibilities, and these days, that is definitely a lot. I find myself having a hard time concentrating on the tasks at hand because I'm too busy thinking about the cookies I get to bake, the tree I get to decorate (because Mom and Dad have "conveniently" decided to let me do it once I arrive -- which I don't mind at all, but I still find kind of funny), the movies I get to watch (24 hours straight of "A Christmas Story" anyone??), and the time I get to spend with my awesome parents who I generally don't get to hang out with nearly enough.
As a sixth grader, most of the anticipation of the winter break came from the hordes of presents that awaited me (MUST HAVE BARBIES), but now the currency of choice is simply relaxation time. Maybe that means I'm a grown-up now (how did that happen??), but I don't care. I'm still sitting here, eating candy canes, anxiously awaiting the moment when I can forget every-day things like work and bills and shoveling snow, and can jump on that plane to Nashville. In the meantime, I'll continue pretending to care about things like summary judgment and DUI's and restitution. Sigh. Is it tomorrow yet?
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Nostrils DO serve a purpose.
I have a cold. Not the world's most earth shattering news, and certainly not the first cold I've had, but crap-tastic nonetheless. But I have discovered that there are four stages of having a cold that I inevitably go through over the course of its virulent effects.
First, there is denial. "No, this naggy sore throat is nothing, I'm not getting sick!". "I'm only coughing because I have a tickle in my throat... the cat slept on my head last night and its just remnant cat hair in my lungs, I'm not getting sick!". "My nose is only runny because it's cold outside, I'm not getting sick!". During this phase I will proceed about my day as if nothing is wrong. Would I ordinarily take the garbage out without a coat on when it is 5 degrees outside? Yes! Therefore I can do it now too! I am invincible!!
Second, there is realization. This usually happens the morning after the second day of denial when you wake up with cement in your head and a pile of Kleenexes on the table next to your bed. "I CAN'T BREATHE THROUGH MY NOSE. I might be getting sick". "I can only breathe through my right nostril... I might be getting sick". "Now I can only breathe through my left nostril... I might be getting sick". The moment of joy that you experience during this phase when one nostril clears is immediately dampened when your realize that your other previously-operational nostril is now closed for business. I was created with two nostrils for a reason. It is unacceptable when one or both of them are not fully-functional.
Third, there is anger. "Why am I sick?? What germ infested plague-ridden surface did I come into contact with that infected me with horse flu (or whatever is this year's version of animal-origin death)??". "I used my mango and orange flavored hand sanitizer religiously, how could this happen!" "This is a travesty!". "I don't have time to be sick! I have a bazillion and ten things to accomplish this week and laying in bed draining snot is not one of them!!".
Finally, there is acceptance. In this stage, you consider what it is worth to go into work, and then (if you're me), the guilt of taking a sick day overcomes the desire to lay on the couch with a blanket and a movie and you go in anyway, armed with Dayquil, Kleenex and cough drops. At this moment you strongly consider purchasing stock in the Kleenex Corporation. However, the blessed angel robed in red that is always at your side during these bouts with viral plague will save you from your suffering come bedtime. She is called "Nyquil" and she makes all the bad-ness disappear... Behold:
Can you hear the angels singing and the heavens rejoicing?? Because I sure can. Isn't she glorious? However, Nyquil can be a tricky mistress and you must be sure to select the lovely cherry flavored bottle lest you grab the horrible green bottle. The green version of Nyquil can only be described as Hiroshima in a bottle. I would gladly suffer the perils of my cold than drink that verdigris tinted toxin.
I am currently in the acceptance phase of this cold and will therefore partake of the lovely Red-lady's potion later tonight. In the meantime, her not-as-awesome-but-still-kinda-awesome orange cousin's elixir will suffice (Dayquil). Pass the Kleenex.
First, there is denial. "No, this naggy sore throat is nothing, I'm not getting sick!". "I'm only coughing because I have a tickle in my throat... the cat slept on my head last night and its just remnant cat hair in my lungs, I'm not getting sick!". "My nose is only runny because it's cold outside, I'm not getting sick!". During this phase I will proceed about my day as if nothing is wrong. Would I ordinarily take the garbage out without a coat on when it is 5 degrees outside? Yes! Therefore I can do it now too! I am invincible!!
Second, there is realization. This usually happens the morning after the second day of denial when you wake up with cement in your head and a pile of Kleenexes on the table next to your bed. "I CAN'T BREATHE THROUGH MY NOSE. I might be getting sick". "I can only breathe through my right nostril... I might be getting sick". "Now I can only breathe through my left nostril... I might be getting sick". The moment of joy that you experience during this phase when one nostril clears is immediately dampened when your realize that your other previously-operational nostril is now closed for business. I was created with two nostrils for a reason. It is unacceptable when one or both of them are not fully-functional.
Third, there is anger. "Why am I sick?? What germ infested plague-ridden surface did I come into contact with that infected me with horse flu (or whatever is this year's version of animal-origin death)??". "I used my mango and orange flavored hand sanitizer religiously, how could this happen!" "This is a travesty!". "I don't have time to be sick! I have a bazillion and ten things to accomplish this week and laying in bed draining snot is not one of them!!".
Finally, there is acceptance. In this stage, you consider what it is worth to go into work, and then (if you're me), the guilt of taking a sick day overcomes the desire to lay on the couch with a blanket and a movie and you go in anyway, armed with Dayquil, Kleenex and cough drops. At this moment you strongly consider purchasing stock in the Kleenex Corporation. However, the blessed angel robed in red that is always at your side during these bouts with viral plague will save you from your suffering come bedtime. She is called "Nyquil" and she makes all the bad-ness disappear... Behold:
I am currently in the acceptance phase of this cold and will therefore partake of the lovely Red-lady's potion later tonight. In the meantime, her not-as-awesome-but-still-kinda-awesome orange cousin's elixir will suffice (Dayquil). Pass the Kleenex.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Merry Freaking-Rural Christmas...
I moved from the relative hustle and bustle of the Twin Cities to the conversely rural town of Morris exactly two years, three months, and 8 days ago. It is no secret that I am not a country girl, and I have come to terms with that over the past two years. However, when I first made my transition to the sticks, it wasn't as apparent to me just how out of place I really was. As a disclaimer to all of my Morris friends, who have made living out here exceptionally more enjoyable than I ever thought possible, I still have to say that given my option, the Twin Cities will always win out over Morris as the superior place to reside... but you all already knew that... and you forgive me for it anyway. Thus the tone has been set for the remainder of this post.
In November of 2008, I was facing my first winter and my first holiday season in Morris. I was asked by a friend if I would like to attend the annual Morris holiday parade with her. I was told that there would be floats be-decked in full, lighted holiday glory, so naturally, being the ostrich that I am, my letch for shiny objects won out and I agreed to attend. Having lived in the Twin Cities for several years, when I am informed of a Holiday Parade that involves lights, I immediately think of, and expect, a show worthy of calling itself the Holidazzle Parade. Huge floats bejeweled with thousands of shiny Christmas lights, Christmas music blaring from each one, and even SANTA CLAUS!! Oh be still my beating heart. With those images pulsing through my mind, I prepared for the Morris version that freezing cold November evening, thoroughly expecting a smaller scale, but not at all prepared for what I got.
As I stood there on the curb, freezing and wearing my winter coat, mittens, hat, scarf and wrapped in the comforter from my bed, I saw the first parade entrants begin their trek down Main Street. What was that coming down the street?? Wait, really? No, it can't be... IT WAS. A TRACTOR with strings of Christmas lights draped over it, powered by a portable generator. NO WAY. I was unable to process this for a good 30 seconds. All of my lofty expectations had been blown to pieces by that tractor. I truly was living in the country now. Dear lord, a tractor?! The tractor was eventually followed by a SNOW PLOW similarly decked out in strings of Christmas lights, among other various trucks with trailers decorated for the occasion. For this, I was not prepared.
I'll be honest. I remember calling a friend from back in civilization and regaling her with the story of the parade. Needless to say I have never heard her laugh harder at my misery (you know who you are, Ninnymuggins). I was truly in shock over just how different my new surroundings were from anything I had experienced in the past. How was it possible that I had warped into this alternate universe where most stores are not open on Sundays, rent was nearly half what I was used to paying, gravel roads exist, and Target is a far away oasis??? And so I wallowed in self-pity because clearly this was not civilization. A life with no Target is no life at all.
That realization of what my surroundings had become was my low point. I have since come to terms with, and accepted my fate as a current rural Minnesota resident. Although I whine, kick and scream about not living in a place with a collective population of more than 6,000, it really isn't all bad. I returned to the fateful holiday parade the following year, and again this year, just a couple of weeks ago. I realized that despite the less than splendorous displays, the floats are actually "kinda cute". You can get frozen candy and Dairy Queen coupons if you play your cards right and wave at the right parade marchers. And of course, Santa made his appearance all the way out here in Morris as well. Despite it being insanely cold...
I've still had fun each year attending the parade. So I figure, as long as I am stuck living in the sticks, I can at least make the best of it. Oooh and aaaah over the snowplow, hang out with the friends I've made, and enjoy my frozen candy. Here are a few pictures from the 2010 parade... some of them aren't very good because it was freezing, my camera hates the cold as much as I do, and shivering does not lead to clear photos. Enjoy!
In November of 2008, I was facing my first winter and my first holiday season in Morris. I was asked by a friend if I would like to attend the annual Morris holiday parade with her. I was told that there would be floats be-decked in full, lighted holiday glory, so naturally, being the ostrich that I am, my letch for shiny objects won out and I agreed to attend. Having lived in the Twin Cities for several years, when I am informed of a Holiday Parade that involves lights, I immediately think of, and expect, a show worthy of calling itself the Holidazzle Parade. Huge floats bejeweled with thousands of shiny Christmas lights, Christmas music blaring from each one, and even SANTA CLAUS!! Oh be still my beating heart. With those images pulsing through my mind, I prepared for the Morris version that freezing cold November evening, thoroughly expecting a smaller scale, but not at all prepared for what I got.
As I stood there on the curb, freezing and wearing my winter coat, mittens, hat, scarf and wrapped in the comforter from my bed, I saw the first parade entrants begin their trek down Main Street. What was that coming down the street?? Wait, really? No, it can't be... IT WAS. A TRACTOR with strings of Christmas lights draped over it, powered by a portable generator. NO WAY. I was unable to process this for a good 30 seconds. All of my lofty expectations had been blown to pieces by that tractor. I truly was living in the country now. Dear lord, a tractor?! The tractor was eventually followed by a SNOW PLOW similarly decked out in strings of Christmas lights, among other various trucks with trailers decorated for the occasion. For this, I was not prepared.
I'll be honest. I remember calling a friend from back in civilization and regaling her with the story of the parade. Needless to say I have never heard her laugh harder at my misery (you know who you are, Ninnymuggins). I was truly in shock over just how different my new surroundings were from anything I had experienced in the past. How was it possible that I had warped into this alternate universe where most stores are not open on Sundays, rent was nearly half what I was used to paying, gravel roads exist, and Target is a far away oasis??? And so I wallowed in self-pity because clearly this was not civilization. A life with no Target is no life at all.
That realization of what my surroundings had become was my low point. I have since come to terms with, and accepted my fate as a current rural Minnesota resident. Although I whine, kick and scream about not living in a place with a collective population of more than 6,000, it really isn't all bad. I returned to the fateful holiday parade the following year, and again this year, just a couple of weeks ago. I realized that despite the less than splendorous displays, the floats are actually "kinda cute". You can get frozen candy and Dairy Queen coupons if you play your cards right and wave at the right parade marchers. And of course, Santa made his appearance all the way out here in Morris as well. Despite it being insanely cold...
I've still had fun each year attending the parade. So I figure, as long as I am stuck living in the sticks, I can at least make the best of it. Oooh and aaaah over the snowplow, hang out with the friends I've made, and enjoy my frozen candy. Here are a few pictures from the 2010 parade... some of them aren't very good because it was freezing, my camera hates the cold as much as I do, and shivering does not lead to clear photos. Enjoy!
The infamous snow plow with icicle lights on it... har har har...
Snow plow again.
And of course the FFA rolling up in their grain bin trailer thingy...
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