Friday, December 24, 2010

Just what I wished for!!!

What it did at my house Christmas Eve Day/Night! I was so excited to wake up and see it.  Isn't it pretty?  I always dream of a white Christmas, and this year I got my wish!

P.S. That tree is the same tree where Bella dug up the times.

I hope everyone has a wonderful and safe holiday!

The Green Drink

So my moms side of the family has many Christmas traditions, but the one that is by far the best and most honored tradition is our Grasshoppers! 

Now we don’t spend our summers out in the fields jumping after the little buggers to freeze and eat on Christmas, no this is a drink.  Though, I think, the later would be a very interesting thing to explain to the neighbors.  This is a drink that is made of different liquors and ice cream.

This drink comes two ways A.) Leaded (alcohol, though not very much alcohol at all) B.) Unleaded (no alcohol).  When I was very little, my grandma only knew how to make it leaded…so that made for some VERY fun Christmas Day evenings! I was giving just the smallest amount and then I would fall asleep.  Then when I reached the age of five, she learned how to make it unleaded, and that was what I was given until I reached 21. 

The drink is a very dark bright green when it is Leaded and a very light bright green when it is unleaded, so no tricking anyone into thinking you had one when you really had the other. 

This drink has become infamous in my family, and with some of my friends.  Ryno comes over for Christmas ever year, and somehow always manages to come in the evening, just in time for a Grasshopper, or two.  Da’Da’ has had one, and went back for seconds.  Bebe has had one…and I don’t really know his opinion on it, at that point the was pretty full from the meal that is searved all day on Christmas day at my house, so he was probably too full to really enjoy it.  My two youngest cousins, on that side, though, make the drink even more special for me ever year.

My oldest youngest cousin, Andrea I remembered drinking all of her unleaded and always asking my grandma for more.  My youngest youngest cousin, Andreas sister Karney, also came to love the drink.  Every Christmas Day evening the ask over and over and over again whether or not the Grasshoppers were going to be made soon.  That seems to do the drink to bring my grandma into action.  Once the drinks are done they sprint into the kitchen and grab there unleaded cups and head into the living room holding the cup with both hands, face beaming, teeth showing, and eyes bright and wide staring intently at the drink.  The kids (and I) almost always get served first, and we almost always go back for seconds.  You could be stuffed and if you ate/drank another morsel your body would combust and you would die a horrible death and I think we all would still have a Grasshopper.  You just can’t turn these things down!

Karney, Andrea, and I always sit at the “kiddies” table and watch TV - usually a cartoon Christmas special - and tell stories and jokes while the “adults” are sitting in the dinning room talking about “adult” things.  We laugh and talk and drink our drinks.  In about the time it takes for you to get a brain freeze, are drinks are down and we are ready to go back for more.

This to me makes Christmas officially awesome.  It is this truly bonding experience of us having our families traditional drink, getting a brain freeze at the exact same time together, and talking about goofy things that have no relevant meaning to life other then we think it is awesome and funny.  It helps make our family stronger and brings us together every year.  It makes the whole day of traveling, stressing about whether or not someone is going to like your gift that you got them, the weather conditions, etc…all fade away into things not important and puts the things that are important like family and friends totally in perspective. 

I am so happy my family hasn’t gotten rid of this tradition, I know if it ever came to that, I would step in and make it…but then again that might not turn out well…we all know how well I do in the kitchen.  So if it ever does come to that, I know with the love this drink has brought to my family and friends at least my cousins, and probably Ryno, would be there to help me not ruin the drink that year and still continue on with it.

Country Christmas

Out in the country there is this little farm house and an older gentleman who loved Christmas.  Every year he would put up this huge display all around his front yard, his side yard, on the barn, near the silos, and through the surrounding fields.

It was a Christmas Tradition for families in my town to go out the mile or so outside of town to this farm and see the lights every year.  It was gorgeous and really got you in the Christmas sprit.  My sister started taking me when she first got her license and we would slowly drive through the farm yard and see all the lights, pointing at the ones we loved, and ohhing and awwing over everything. 

When she moved and I got my license I started taking my youngest cousins, Bria and Brad,  (same ones from the Annual Wrapping Paper Ball Fight post) to see the light display.  We would blast Christmas music and sing along and once we got out to the farm we would slowly go through the display.  This became an annual thing before we went to the church for the candle light service and before our Wrapping Paper Ball Fights. 

Every year it was something we looked forward too, and couldn’t wait to bust out of the house and see it again.  The display never really changed, things were placed in the same place, and I don’t think this farmer ever added new lights (since it was already really big) but we didn’t care, it was wonderful to go and see.  My small town usually has snow on Christmas eve, and usually the power goes out right around the time for the candle light service in my church there (very cool if I do say so for our service all by candle light) but something that my cousins and I would have to beat before it would go out so we could see the display in the country. 

Then sometime one year the farmer passed away, it was in our local newspaper about weather or not the display would be shown one last time, since the farmer passed before Christmas time.  His family wrote in that they would put it up one last time and then the farm would not have it again.  Once I heard this, it was my main goal that Christmas.  My friends and I went out there and saw the lights, my mom and I went out there and saw the lights, and my cousins and I were out there Christmas eve to see the lights before that candle light service.

It was amazingly beautiful and the image of  the picture perfect light display will always be a photograph in my mind.  It was Christmas card perfect.  It was bittersweet, the last drive through with my cousins.  It was sad to break it to them, that this display would not be there ever again, but it only made that one last trip even more special. 

Since then I have seen light displays at houses that would blow that farm out of this world, but it doesn’t matter, that light display on that farm will always take the gold medal in my heart for some of the great Christmas memories of mine.

Now my horrible picture that does no justice to what the farm really looked like, but it was bright and gorgeous and just very Christmasy! :) (There were a lot more light displays and Christmas objects throughout the farm land)

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Christmas in July?

So there is this thing where apparently people can’t go too long without some Christmas in their lives, and so Christmas in July comes around.  And even though I love Christmas and the Holiday spirit I don’t feel like we need Christmas in July to feel the love of Christ and to share his love with the world.

But one year in July, in my small town, Kat and I were walking around (it’s what you do when you are from a small town and have no gas money), and decided Christmas was what everyone needed.  It was a hot day, the sun was beating down on us, and really we probably should have just watched a movie but instead we wanted to go out into the world (or just out of our parents houses) and see what there was to see.  Well in my town you have some stop signs, some yield signs, some animals, trees, a courthouse, a few businesses, and people who know you, everywhere. 

While walking we would talk and joke.  But that day it felt like there needed to be something much bigger involved then just talking and joking…there needed to be singing!  So that is exactly what we did.  We held hands, skipped, and sang songs.  NOT just any songs…we sang Christmas songs.  Baby it’s Cold Outside, Jingle Bells, Oh Holy Night, We Three Kings, Emanuel, oh yes we went there! 

We had a lot of people sing along with us as we passed by, other that requested tunes once they heard us belting it out.  It was caroling in the scorching sun and it was a lot of fun!  The best part was when we went by a house that had roofers on top of it.  They yelled down “Jingle Bell Rock” and we quickly went to that song and waved and went by.  We could hear the roofers whistling it after we had passed. 

It was a great feeling of bringing back that spirit of love and joy to those around us when on the really hot day, they probably needed it most.  Plus the people who we did pass either gave us really weird looks, which was just funny, or joined in and enjoyed it.  So either way our day was made, or the peoples were.  Plus we got to skip around town…and once you get to high school skipping is something that not a lot of people do, so we totally brought it back that day. 

It is one of those things that will always bring a smile to my face when I think back on it.  It was so random and such a perfect day.  So now in July…even though I don’t buy into the whole tv stations and radio stations Christmas in July thing…I have my own private Christmas music listening/singing party…or Kat is there too, and we sing at least one song and smile.  And now whenever I hear those songs it brings back memories of skipping down one of the main roads in town taking requests and caroling in July.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Winter Vacation Plans

So my winter vacation from my job starts this afternoon! YAY! DO A LITTLE DANCE! So I thought this would be a good way to keep track of what I plan to accomplish this Holiday Break.

1.) Sleep…a lot. 
I am not a morning person, so since I have had to get up early for quite awhile I plan on sleeping in a lot and taking some naps.  Eventful, I know.

2.) Go to the dentist.
This isn’t something I really want to do…it’s not that I am afraid of the dentist, it is just that I now have a new dentist.  I have been going to the same dentist since I first started going to the dentist and now, since I live in St. Louis, I have to go to someone different.  It’s pretty scary, plus I don’t like change.  But a girls got to do what a girls got to do.

3.) Find some dresses for Christmas.
I have lost quite a bit of weight since receiving my Master’s in May and so I am in need of some new dresses.  I have one, but I have three Christmas’ to go too, plus New Years, PLUS my birthday.  So I will need at least three more, or at least a new skirt or something to go with outfits I already have.

4.) Lose weight
Not something that will be the easiest, since it is Holiday season, but I am going to try.  I plan on walking around 5 miles a day, or more, starting tonight.  I’m a little walking machine. 

5.) Practice my dances
This speaks for itself.  I dance, I need to practice…lets do this!

6.) Clean the house. 
Now I am a germaphobe, I admit it, but sometimes while I am working during the day, in the evening all I want to do is sit and watch tv.  So sometimes the house isn’t as clean as I would like it to be.  I want to change that this break.

7.) Play with Bella
She is my Oosha Boo Boo Baby Girl, and needs some quality time with her mama (that’d be me).

8.) Spend some much needed time with my family and with my friends
I will be heading back to my small town for a few days over break.  I plan on seeing Ryno, The Stud (you haven’t been formally introduced to him, but I will explain in a later post who "The Stud" - his name for himself -  is.) , and Kat for at least a few hours while I am back.

9.) Read books and magazines
Again all I want to do when I am off work is watch tv and sit on the couch, nothing else is in the mix.

10.) I just added this because I don’t like odd numbers.

Expect more Holiday stories in the coming days…I’ve got a least 4 more Christmas ones, if not more, and a few for New Years.  If anyone else has a break, enjoy it! I know I will

OH! I forgot to add in "Blog" on my list…but that would make it 11 things on the list…hmmm…this doesn’t look good…

A Christmas Story

It’s not that I haven’t wanted too, or that I haven’t tried, it’s just that…I haven’t.  I haven’t watch “A Christmas Story” all the way through.  I know, I know, throw rocks at me now…it’s horrible to say out loud…well write out on this blog. Ya’ll are probably judging me silently…or screaming at the computer screen.  I’m probably not a real honest to goodness full bloodied American because I haven’t seen it all the way through.

I know, it’s something I really need to do…but every year it just never happens.  I start to watch it, but then I get distracted, go to sleep, get bored (I know I said bored) and miss most of the story. 

On the other hand, I see that it is a 24 hours marathon and I have plenty of opportunities to watch it on Christmas day…but I always sit down in front of the tv right when it’s in the middle or near the end.  I have seen bits and pieces…I get the point of the story, but still have never seen it all the way through.  I’ve seen the highlights (I guess) of the movie…there is a leg lamp, a bb gun, and apparently you can’t stick your tongue on a pole without it getting stuck.  I’ve only learned these highlights from years and years of trying to watch movie.

This Christmas, I promise I will try and watch it…but I doubt I will get through it all, again.  Christmas day is a hubbub of going ons at my house and a lot of people talking and my grandpa has the TV remote.  Yes, usually he falls asleep, and at that point I could probably sneak in there and grab it away from him, but he would A.) either wake up from me changing the channel, or B.) he would snore so loudly I wouldn’t be able to watch the show anyways. 

I think Bebe might have to interfere and make a point that we watch it this year.  Hopefully he can successfully drag me away from my family into the den room in front of that tv and we can watch it.  We will see if this mission will be completed.    

Don’t Spill the Tea!

I talk with my hands…most…ok, all, of the time.  I am very expressive, and when it comes to talking with my hands, I don’t usually pay attention to what is near my hands when talking…so a lot of things get knocked over.  Apparently this is something I have been suffering from since I was a little kids, because I was always told to move something out of my way, or someone would just do it when I would start talking. 

My most vivid memory of this situation was when I was about 8 or 9 and I was at a restaurant with my mom and dad.  I was probably talking about school, or something (I am a nerd now, and was a nerd then) and talking with my hands.  The whole time my dad kept interrupting me by saying, “Don’t spill your tea, Happy Dance!” and I was getting really annoyed and really not listening to him.  Finally my mom just got tired of hearing him talk about it and me getting lost in thought of what I was saying and repeating myself, so she moved the tea herself. 

Right before the waiter came to the table with our food, my dad reached to grab his napkin which was at the edge of the table.  In doing so, he knocked over his tea, all over the table, all over us, and all over the floor.  My dad turned beat read, and I shouted “DAD! DON’T SPILL THE TEA!” Everyone around us, who had probably heard the whole thing of him telling me the same thing, busted into laughter, and so did my parents.  Now when we order tea at a restaurant it is a huge family joke…so just remember when you are out and about Don’t Spill the Tea!

Monday, December 20, 2010

Dog food and Fishing

My dad has a friend who has a pond out in the back forty on some private property that no one ever goes to but special people he lets know about it.  My dad and I are some of those special people.  This fishing trip with my dad was going to be uber awesome!

We were only going to go for the day and we had to leave really early because the place was about two hours away.  We didn’t have a boat, just our trusty fishing poles (mine was my great grandfathers) and a smile on our faces.  On the way there, I slept, I was about 13 and early mornings were just not my thing, heck they still aren’t!  When I finally woke up we were off roading it in the truck.  Tons of bumps and dirt flying everywhere, it was great! 

Once we reached the pond we unpacked our things and set up our seats for a nice day of fishing.  We took out our poles and I asked dad where our bait was, and he pulled out a bag of dog food.  I looked at him like he was crazy!  “Umm…dad?  Umm…where’s the bait?” “Happy Dance, right here!” He points to the bag.  “Ummm…dad…that’s not fish food, it’s dog food!” He told me to sit still and watch.  He put the dog food on the hook and set it reeling out into the pond.  A few minutes later a bite, and he reeled it in.  A huge catfish was on the other end of the line. 

This pond was fed dog food by the owner, I know it sounds weird to me too, but it works.  We caught around 50 fish that day, and because I feel bad for animals in any sort of pain or dying situation we had to throw all of them back, much to my dads dismay.  At the end of the day of telling stories, laughing, and fishing, we threw in the left over dog food into the pond and the fish went crazy! In mere seconds all the food was eaten off the top of the pond. 

We loaded up the truck and I started towards the passenger side of the truck, my dad pulled me back and asked if I would like to drive.  WOULD I EVER!  So I grabbed his keys and ran to the drivers side.  I sat in, buckled up, and waited for my dad to do the same.  I put the keys in the ignition, moved the gear into place, and….drove backwards!  I almost drove us into the pond.  My dad yelled “BREAK!”  I stopped the truck, just a few inches shy of the edge of the pond.  My dad told me to slowly move the gear shift down two more notches and to go forward.  So I did, and then we were off. 

I was still shaken up by almost killing us, but I had almost forgotten that with the shear awesomenss of driving!  I was kicking up dirt, and gravel, and grass in the back and having so much fun.  Looking back now, I don’t think I actually went that fast, probably only 20 mph, but still it was awesome! 

Once getting to the main road, my dad and I switched around.  He was laughing at me almost sinking the truck and he turned on his “Oldies” station.  Two hours later we were home and the truck was in one piece, we had no fish, and no dog food.  Life was good!

My Twinkie!

Ok…so Da’Da’ (Pronounced DayDay) and I aren’t really twins and we also aren’t really family, but he is just like a brother to me.  Da’Da’ and I met in grade school, but really bonded when we reached high school.  We were mutual friends of Kats and we all decided to be in a band together.  So there were four of us in the band, but Da’Da’ and I were called the Twins of the group.  He played bass, and I played keyboards (we helped each other out with rhythm and what not).  He did backup singing, and I did backup singing.  He sang a song, I sang a song. He was my first date to prom and one of my best friends in high school.

Da’Da’ lived right down the street, through the cemetery, and across the blacktop road at the end of town, from me.  I would go over to his house and play video games, watch horror flicks, and talk about “playing band” for hours.  He would come over to my house and we would watch comedies, hang out in “The Shed”, and eat frozen pizza.  BUT my favorite thing Da’Da’ and I ever did was lay on the top of his car’s front window and roof and watch the stars.  He lived further out of the city and you could see clearly for miles and miles.  We would lay on the top of his car and watch shooting stars, look for the different formations in the sky, and telling spooky stories about aliens and ghosts (he lived next to a field – think “Signs” – and he lived next to the town cemetery).  After our star show ended – usually when it was near midnight in the summer and I had to be home -  we would say goodbye, and I would head out across the blacktop, through the cemetery, down the road, through the alley, and to my back door.  Throughout the summer months this is something Da’Da’ and I did a lot of.  It was a lot of fun and we bonded over so much during that time.  This is also, probably, the reason I am not scared of cemeteries and actually like them…good times and fond memories always waited for me after walking through them. 

Through college Da’Da’ became my dance partner with ballroom.  He is quite tall so doing some of the dance moves proofed to be kind of difficult but he was such an awesome dancer and we laughed through most of our steps.  We quickly became the stars of our class and we would practice all the time.  We showed off our dancing moves wherever we would go.  We were at a department store one day and they had a CD preview stand.  So we turned on a tango and tangoed in the store, we turned on a rumba and rumbaed , we turned on a swing dance and I think I almost knocked over something nearby, but that didn’t stop us.  We had people clapping and wanting us to continue dancing.  It was great!  We had a blast.  He really helped ballroom dancing become fun and something I now love to do.

The next thing about Da’Da’, that you’ve got to know, is that he tells the best stories I have EVER heard.  If he traveled to Chicago he would come back with loads to tell you about skydiving off a building (doubtful it ever happened…but I will let him dream) and then he would tell you about capturing a lion in the jungle when he was in a store that had a green house outside, while pretending to be in the jungle between the plants.  Never a dull moment with Da’Da’. 

Now he lives in the “most magical place on earth” and I don’t see him very often, but whenever I get a call or message from him it makes my day. 

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Overview of my cooking debacles

So I can do a lot of crochet, tango, walk miles, go to college, have 22 credit hours and 4 part time jobs...but there are some things that I just can't do.

When I was a lot younger I tried to help my grandma and my mom cook.  I was ushered out a lot of the times and told to read a book.  Not being on to argue, I would leave them be and settle in with a nice story.  My great-grandma tried to teach me, and she also showed me how to do certain things in the kitchen, but it was so long ago and I was so easily distracted by washing dishes in her sink (partly because I felt like I was able to do it all on my own, and partly because I have...a very vivid imagination and I would pretend that the dishes and cups and silverware were all ships at sea) I just don't remember anything she taught me.  So I really wasn't in the kitchen cooking that often.

When I was in Jr. High, I tried to do certain things in the make a frozen pizza.  That didn't turn out so well, because apparently you have to take the pizza off the cardboard, it is on top of, before putting it in the oven.  I also made rice crispy treats with a said four teaspoons, but I didn't know what that meant, of I put in four sticks.  The treats stuck together even when pulled from the front of the house to the back of the house...very rich tasting treat...and my mom wasn't very happy with that mess when she got home.

When I reached high school, my mom made...again read that take a home economics.  "It will be good for you." She always told me.  So there I was, and in store for me was a lot of discussion on children, sewing, leadership, and cooking.  I loved all of the above BUT cooking.  Things went great in the class, until we moved into the cooking portion of the book.  I made a hamburger when we were grilling and started a fire, and I made biscuits that had so much salt in them no one could eat more then a bite.

I thought at that point I would be done...I wasn't going to take "Foods" class. But one of my friends, Ryno, decided he wanted to do it and wouldn't take the class without me.  So there I was again, with my poor teacher who probably had a minor heart attack after seeing my name on the list of students in her class that semester, taking another cooking class.  This ended up not being so horrible.  We spent a lot of time in the kitchen, which was really scary.  But after my team learned how horrible of a cook I was, they only allowed me to stir things, once in awhile, and with someone watching me, and they allowed me to wash dishes.  They would throw things on the ground and hand them to me to wash, just so I would get points in the class, and not kill anyone with food poisoning or with a fire...nice of them all, really.  

After that class was finished, I had only a year left of high school, and I wasn't planning on cooking much of anything.  Then one day Kat came over, and we decided to watch a movie and eat popcorn.  So I had to put the popcorn in the microwave.  I put the bag of popcorn in the microwave, closed the door, and pressed the popcorn button.  I walked away back downstairs to my room where we were watching the movie and decided to come back up in a few minutes after the popcorn had stopped popping.  Then my dog came running downstairs (not Bella, my first dog, Lady) She was going back and forth between my bedroom door, and the stairs...and she was barking.  I went up stairs to some sparks of fire shooting out of the microwave and poured the only thing handy, some water, on the microwave (which apparently, you are not suppose to do).  I put the bag of popcorn outside and had to open all of the windows in the house to get that awful popcorn smell out.  The, once white, bag of popcorn, was now totally black.  That was it...I was done.

At this point, the horror stories of my cooking (not all of them are listed above) followed me to college.  This is where I met Brina  and we decided to make pasta, one day, together.  Which we did...and it didn't turn out half bad...but that's because she took over midway through.  Though, even to this day, she usually would rather us go out to eat, then me try to cook.  Which most of my friends are that way too, it must be a defense mechanism. I don't really think I can blame them...what with my history and all, I wouldn't want to eat my food either.

Now Bebe decided I couldn't be that bad of a cook.  Anyone could teach me some of the basics and it would stick.  After we entered my apartments kitchen and I didn't know how to open a jar of canned vegetables, I think he might have given up.  But he still had some faith.  That Christmas his parents gave me a cooking class as a gift....I couldn't wait to try it out, but since I had a lot of studying to do for my Master's it would have to wait until that May.  By this December we finally used it.  I took a cooking class, and no one died!  Not even a fire started!  In the kitchen, given some guidance and some long "discussions" (read a few frustrated phone calls) with my mom about how to make her soups and if I was making the pizza correctly, I have finally been able to make about 5 dishes without deaths or destruction in my wake.  

I plan on learning more and taking more cooking classes and hopefully feeling even more confident.  At one point on this blog, I'm sure, I will go into more in depth detail of a lot of my cooking escapades but for now this will have to suffice.  Tonight I made pizza...St. Louis did not burn to the ground...and I find this to be an award winning feat!  The real question is, what will be next in my quest in learning how to cook and will I kill anyone in the process?

Friday, December 17, 2010

Brina and the Tornado!

Today in honor of my friend “Brina’s” Birthday…HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRINA!!! :) I would like to share a story with ya’ll about our college days and living together with a tornado thrown in just for fun! :)

So I come from a small town that has a tornado at least once a year, though it is usually more then once.  Brina does not.  She comes from a place where the weather is awesome (though sometimes colder and more wintery) and butterflies and rainbows always appear.  My small town has tornados, ice storms, droughts, torrential rain for a few days, and the butterflies usually don’t make it to that stage in their life because they end up being squished to death by cars on the country roads.  (there needs to be stoplights for those little buggers or something…dead caterpillar guts everywhere, it’s just nasty!)  Anyway you get the drift.  Once in a great while in Brina’s city there would be a tornado watch…but nothing usually came from it.   (and for those of you who are from my small town...I'm not dissing the town...I love my small town...but we just have REALLY wierd weather...and a lot of nasty catapiller guts on our roads in the spring time.)

So back to college days:
Brina and I were roommates in college, the college near my hometown.  It was great!  She brought me away from my books once in awhile to have some good wholesome fun sitting out in the sun, going for walks, and letting me and my dance partner show off our newest moves.  Everything was going wonderfully until the summer we stayed on campus. 

We were both taking a class together and had just walked back from the main campus to our apartment on campus.  The weather had turned really bad, really quickly.  I could feel it in my bones…I had a headache from the storm coming in, but my bones felt weighed down…and that could only mean one thing…a tornado was on its way. 

We made it to the apartment before the rain began, and then we watched the news on our tv.   This huge red thing was headed straight for us.  This couldn’t be good.  Next thing we know we are under a tornado watch.  Brina starts to tell me she doesn’t like this and would rather be back in her city then this place.  I couldn’t have agreed more with her at that point.  Just a few minutes later and BAM the sirens go off…tornado watch turned into a tornado warning! 

The campus police started making the rounds telling us we needed to go back to main campus, in the theater area in the basement, to stay safe.  Brina starts to head out the door along with our other roommates.  I stop them all and tell them to go and get socks, tennis shoes, and a bottle of water NOW!  They are start to ask questions and I tell them to just do as I say.  They quickly run around and grab everything, and so do I. 

On the way to the basement I answer their questions. “If you are ever in a tornado situation you must have socks, tennis shoes, and a bottle of water with you at all times…if the building collapses on you, you don’t want shards of glass to cut you in your flip flops, or to be standing in rain water if it starts to rain and it gets in from the roof that collapses.  And water…if you are stuck down there for days, or even hours for that matter, you are going to want water, and fresh water at that.”  At this point, they were probably more freaked out then calm (and calm is what I was trying to go for…but I’m a worrier and when I worry this is what comes out of my mouth…really out there thoughts with some scientific backing to some degree)

So we make it to the basement, where of course I had my camera, and we took pictures of us during the tornado warning at college.  I thought this was pretty cool…usually I am in my homes basement and the power goes out and I am stuck in the dark with a scared dog.  So being stuck, in a place with generators, and students seemed awesome to me, compared to my usual. After the all clear we went back to our apartment and could talk of nothing else for about a century.  Really that was all anyone on campus could talk about. 

After that experience and after college, when I go and visit Brina or she comes and visits me (we live 5 + hours away from each other) bad weather has always seemed to follow us…I think it is to bring us closer together like that tornado did. 

Anyway I wish Brina one of the best birthdays ever (even though I can’t be there to share in this wonderful day, I am sending great wishes her way). 

Moral of this story: Always bring water, socks, and tennis shoes with you to your shelter in case of a tornado or you’re going to die a horrible death being cut by glass and from dehydration and a collapsed roof.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Bella and her nose

So Bella is my dog…we’ve seen her real face and how it looks like the predator.  We know she does really funny and weird things…but let me tell you about the time that she really scared me. 

Bella loves her big back yard (that’s right she has claimed it as hers).  She guards it and barks at the other dogs that live nearby that she can see.  She has a race track and she has a spot where she sits and watches the road. 

When we first moved in we didn’t have a fully fenced in back yard, so if we let her off her chain when she went outside so we had to really watch her.  I was sitting in a chair reading a book and Bebe was doing some yard work.  Bella was off her chain and smelling the tree. 

I looked up from my book to make sure she was alright and saw that Bella had something in her month.  I yelled “Bella Drop It!”  (I don’t like it when she has things that aren’t toys are something I approve of in her mouth.)  She dropped it instantly.  I walked towards her telling her “Good Girl.”

And that’s when I looked down to see what it was that she had.  It was a dead squirrel!  Not just any Squirrel!  It was a corpse squirrel, it was hard and mostly just bones stuck together.  I was SO grossed out!  I called to Bebe and brought Bella away from the corpse. 

She was extremely pleased with herself having found the corpse all by herself she was wagging her tail and, thinking this was all just a game, trying to get back to eating the dead squirrel. 

Bebe found where she had gotten the corpse from, she had dug a hole and she had pried it from the ground.  (A. we didn’t know she was a digger until this moment, B. she was apparently a really quick digger, I hadn’t been looking down at my book for very long and this was a pretty deep hole, C. she had smelled the corpse squirrel all the way through the ground and then went for it) This was pretty troubling news.  We covered up the hole with all the dirt she had dug up, and Bebe picked up the corpse and put it in the trashcan. 

Bella was inside looking at us with a lot of confusion.  I looked back at her and wondered how I was supposed to disinfect her mouth.

Annual Wrapping Paper Ball Fight!

Here is a sentimental and creepy blog post for ya!

Every Christmas, since my youngest cousins were born, my grandparents, parents, Aunt, Uncle, and cousins and I would have this Wrapping Paper Ball Fight (It’s capitalized because this is THE event of the season) after we finished opening presents on Christmas Eve.  This fight would last for at least 15 minutes each time and everyone just goes crazy throwing paper balls at each other.  This was one of the best parts about Christmas. 

One Christmas my Grandma was in the hospital and so we had a very small version of the Wrapping Paper Ball Fight.  A few days later, Dec 27th, we lost her.  Before we could have the next Christmas, on Dec 2nd, we lost my grandpa.  So a great memory of  my grandparents will always be having that Annual Wrapping Paper Ball Fight throughout the years. 

The year my grandpa died, it was a very sad time in our family at Christmas.  Grandma and Grandpa would no longer be apart of our Wrapping Paper Ball Fights.  But instead of just lounging around after we ate and opened presents my little cousin threw a wrapping paper ball at my face.  AND THEN IT WAS ON!  We threw wrapping paper balls until we our arms hurt from throwing them.  It was a wonderful time and a great way to remember my grandparents. 

Creepy part:
Now during this Wrapping Paper Ball Fight I took pictures.  In the pictures you see all of our faces laughing, and you can see us throwing paper, and you can see Orbs…lots and lots of Orbs.  Nothing but Orbs!  The last few years I have taken pictures of the fight and each time before and right after the fight there are no orbs…but during…they are EVERYWHERE!  Last year I brought Bebe with me.  It was our first Christmas together.  This year it looks like it is snowing on him and in the room where the fight took place. 

Now I don’t know if I truly believe that it is my grandparents or not, but I will say this it is creepy and weird.  But if I think of it as my grandparents coming back to share their love of the Annual Wrapping Paper Ball fight with us…it isn’t as scary.  The reason it looks like snow on Bebe’s face is because they really like him and approve (or at least that is my thoughts on it). 

Now back to Sentimental:
Now that we are back in the rush of the Holiday season, lets not forget those little things we do in families that are tradition.  For that side of my family it is the Wrapping Paper Ball Fight for my other side it is drinking grasshoppers (not the insect, but the minty drink of awesomeness).  No matter what happens (or how creepy it can sometimes be, what with orbs and everything) keep up those traditions.  They bring families closer together, gives you great memories of family members that are no longer with you.  PLUS it gives you an awesome thing to look forward too. 

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

How a worry wart deals with things…

Hello name is Happy Dance and I’m a…no I just can’t say it…well I probably should…but what if it’s not something someone wants to hear and I hurt them because they to are just like me and…a worrier. 

That first line would be my introduction at a Worry Wart Meeting (not AA but WW).  I worry about everything…and probably the best way to describe my worrying would be to tell you about a time back in high school when I was with my friend Kat. 

Kat and I have an interesting relationship.  We met in church playing tic-tac-toe during the sermon.  We were two very different people and somehow that made it all work.   By looking you would see this: a tall blonde girl and a shorter brunette girl.  One girl would be wearing some neon colors or something very girly…the other girl would be wearing black with some rock band logo on the front of some of the t-shirts.  We make for an odd pair of best friends.  But again, I think that is what makes us work…we bring out the best (or in the scenario below, the worst) in each other.

The story begins with Kat and me getting in my car and going to a nearby town.  Remember my home town is VERY small, so the nearest town that has anything other then a gas station is 15 minutes away, so that is where we were going.  My car, at the time, is so small that it “eats” people.  They get stuck, bang their head, or they just can’t seem to fit their whole bodies inside without some time and maybe a stick of butter to help them slide in.  So after getting in the car that “eats” people we were on our way.  She was suppose to be going over to my house, but instead we decided that we were going to fast food joint in the near by town to see some of our friends that worked there. 

At the fast food restaurant we started to talk to some of our friends and they just happened to get a rush of people in at the same time, so Kat and I decided to leave.  In the process of leaving one of our friends asked us if we wanted something to drink and gave us two sodas to go.  He slide the drinks from his side of the counter to our side.  I told them we couldn’t take it, and Kat elbowed me in the stomach (she was really good at that) and told me to take it. 

This is when it all went down!  I FREAKED OUT! We couldn’t take the drinks because we hadn’t bought the drinks, we were stealing!  Kat told me to calm down and think about it, the friend had given us the drinks, therefore it’s not on us, it’s on them.  That sentence apparently didn’t make any sense in my small little mind, filled to the brim with worry, and I kept on freaking out….what if the police come after us, I can’t go to jail, who is going to bail us out, and why would we go to jail over two sodas! 

I turned around to return the drink, and she pulled on my arm and turned me around.  She again told me to calm down and to take a drink.  So I did…then she pointed and laughed.  “You can’t return it now, you already drank out of it”  This in turn made me freak out again…I JUST STOLE POP!  I took another drink…AND I LIKE IT!  I looked at her on the drive home and told her we were going to hell for this. She laughed and told me to drink my pop. 

The moral of the story, no matter what the situation, and for that matter how kind someone else is being, a worrier will always worry about it. 

The next moral of the story…she still laughs at me to this day about the whole soda “stealing” thing…and I still think that if a cop had seen us, we’d probably have been fined or cuffed and taken to jail.  I should have just kept my mouth shut!