Hello. My name is Meghan. I've begun to watch reality tv. SAVE ME!
I really don't have many shows on television that I get excited about. Man V. Food is one that I love to watch but I've been slacking on that a bit. So it is really surprising to me that I've started wanting to watch tv more. Not any tv. No. I'm afraid it's reality. I've been able to skip the "Survivor" craze, "So You Think You Can Dance", "The Hills," and "Jersey Shore." There was that blip early in the day when I watched "American Idol" and a few random "Real World" but those were blips. I also really got into "Big Brother" when I lived in Wales but that was overseas so it doesn't count.
Now, I'm going to step out here and make an admission. Much to my husband's dismay, I've started watching "Dancing with the Stars." I was really curious about who "The Situation" was and how Bristol Palin could dance. Matt's been working in the evenings on freelance comic books so I'm going to blame this on the comics. (His work will appear here in the next few months at Mystery Solved. Check it out. It's really great. Matt also has a Deviant art page with his other work. We're shopping his "Caaats!" book around at the moment.)
"Dancing with the Stars" is one thing but I'm afraid I've turned a corner. While Matt (seeing a trend here?) had his comic creating buddies over one Friday night. I succumbed to Netflix and watched..."Keeping up with the Kardasians." There is no excuse but I watched an entire vapid first season! I even (gasp!) watched half of the second season. It was a long drawing session! What could I do!
So it's Monday night and Matt's upstairs working. "Dancing with the Stars" is on tv. I actually set a reminder. I think I may be too far gone. As long as I stay away from "Keeping up with the Kardasians" I think I'll be okay. At least I'm not voting...yet. How did I get to this point!?
Monday, October 18, 2010
It all goes back to fudge and coffee.
When I was about 14 or 15, my dad said to me, "Meg, you should get a job." I'm not sure why he thought that. Maybe it was that age that kids used to go off and make a livin' back in the day. Maybe he was tired of me asking for cash (entirely possible). Or maybe, just maybe, he thought I could go out and learn somethin'.
I started the job search that day. I remember it really well. It was a sunny day and I kinda think it was fall time which means it was most likely summer. I sat down in my room with my totally 90's-tastic clear phone with the neon pink florescent light in it (it rocked, I know it) and started making calls. Being so young had its disadvantages. I couldn't drive, laws prohibited me from worked to much or past a certain time, and of course it had to be cool. I couldn't just work anywhere! Eventually, my parents suggested I give a woman from our church, Vanetta, a call. She owned a place called, "Prints of Peace." It was a art gallery, framing place that also happened to have a coffee bar where they made fudge, cappuccinos, and lattes. I was hired! That was such a stroke of luck!
That was maybe the best job in high school EVER. I was a barista in the highest form...well, maybe not but I could make a mean Funky Monkey latte. The store was in Grabill, Indiana so it wasn't the metropolis of nearby Fort Wayne but it was pretty busy at times. After working there a few years, I decided I needed more experience so I, um, traded up to Blockbuster. That was not as fun and walking into a Blockbuster these days still makes me shudder. I'm not sure what the smell is at Blockbuster but there is one. I'd traded in the aromas of fresh fudge and coffee for plastic and weird smells I still can't distinguish.
College was a weird mix of jobs but once I left the coffee shop, I kinda think it took a turn for the worse. I worked at a dry cleaning place for all of 2 weeks at most (and holds the record as the only job I was fired from...don't ask). Then I worked at a senior living community with the best cuties ever. One, Wilma Fox, still holds a special place in my heart. I also had a student ministries position working with teen moms in Anderson by my university, Anderson University.
After college, I can sum it up really quick: worked for my dad, worked for two other companies, lived in Cardiff Wales (BLISS!), worked for my dad, and then to where I am now working for both parents. My post-college jobs all involved graphic design. I did nearly give it up once to go back to school and get my masters in English so I could go into the book business. I didn't though when my parents opened their own company.
I'm not sure why the job history via blog. I've always felt happy I never had to be a waitress. I never had to work fast food. And aside from the dry cleaners, I've been really lucky. I didn't always treat the jobs right (dry cleaners) and the first three design jobs I had, I took for granted. I was really young and probably had too much autonomy than I should have.
I've always found it interesting how much enjoyment I get out of work and it really is fulfilling. I've been sick for a week with the flu and then a cold. Tomorrow I am going to tackle it again and I'm kinda nervous. Like the first day of school. Kinda, like my first day at the coffee shop.
I started the job search that day. I remember it really well. It was a sunny day and I kinda think it was fall time which means it was most likely summer. I sat down in my room with my totally 90's-tastic clear phone with the neon pink florescent light in it (it rocked, I know it) and started making calls. Being so young had its disadvantages. I couldn't drive, laws prohibited me from worked to much or past a certain time, and of course it had to be cool. I couldn't just work anywhere! Eventually, my parents suggested I give a woman from our church, Vanetta, a call. She owned a place called, "Prints of Peace." It was a art gallery, framing place that also happened to have a coffee bar where they made fudge, cappuccinos, and lattes. I was hired! That was such a stroke of luck!
That was maybe the best job in high school EVER. I was a barista in the highest form...well, maybe not but I could make a mean Funky Monkey latte. The store was in Grabill, Indiana so it wasn't the metropolis of nearby Fort Wayne but it was pretty busy at times. After working there a few years, I decided I needed more experience so I, um, traded up to Blockbuster. That was not as fun and walking into a Blockbuster these days still makes me shudder. I'm not sure what the smell is at Blockbuster but there is one. I'd traded in the aromas of fresh fudge and coffee for plastic and weird smells I still can't distinguish.
College was a weird mix of jobs but once I left the coffee shop, I kinda think it took a turn for the worse. I worked at a dry cleaning place for all of 2 weeks at most (and holds the record as the only job I was fired from...don't ask). Then I worked at a senior living community with the best cuties ever. One, Wilma Fox, still holds a special place in my heart. I also had a student ministries position working with teen moms in Anderson by my university, Anderson University.
After college, I can sum it up really quick: worked for my dad, worked for two other companies, lived in Cardiff Wales (BLISS!), worked for my dad, and then to where I am now working for both parents. My post-college jobs all involved graphic design. I did nearly give it up once to go back to school and get my masters in English so I could go into the book business. I didn't though when my parents opened their own company.
I'm not sure why the job history via blog. I've always felt happy I never had to be a waitress. I never had to work fast food. And aside from the dry cleaners, I've been really lucky. I didn't always treat the jobs right (dry cleaners) and the first three design jobs I had, I took for granted. I was really young and probably had too much autonomy than I should have.
I've always found it interesting how much enjoyment I get out of work and it really is fulfilling. I've been sick for a week with the flu and then a cold. Tomorrow I am going to tackle it again and I'm kinda nervous. Like the first day of school. Kinda, like my first day at the coffee shop.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
The car that caught fire and how I blame a Christian Rock band.
Everyone has that one car from their teenage years. Either you were in love with it, embarrassed of it, crashed it, or really owned it (we're talking fringe, hydraulics, paint job you name it). I had several cars in high school. And while my family likes to taunt me that I was a horrible driver, I wasn't. I did ask how to "point this thing" when driving with my dad for the first time but I was trying to be funny.
I mean, yes, there was the day I went into the ditch...twice (different ditch, same car). There was the white Taurus that I experimented with airbags on (they hurt when they come out. I wouldn't advise experimenting). And yes, I did go "off-roading" into a cornfield with the white Taurus (it wasn't a ditch and in my defense, I TOTALLY would have gotten away with it had it not been for the cornstalks sticking out of my tailpipe.). But the one car which gave me a bad rap that was totally not my fault was the cranberry colored GrandAm. I got this after the Taurus was put to pasture (they just don't stick airbags back in I guess). I loved it. It looked fast. It was reddish. The seats were all cool and buckety. And the stereo seriously rocked. The thing that made me not love the GrandAm was the fire. THAT I had nothing to do with.
I was reminded of the GrandAm and my love for it this weekend. My husband and I got tickets to a Jars of Clay Concert. As they opened, they said they were celebrating their 15th year of making music together since their first album. That album, is what made my GrandAm rock. They played through their whole first album. Each song reminded me of something in that flying cranberry. When they started to play "Flood" though, it all came back. It was 1995 and although I was on my second car, I hadn't had my license for too long. This album came out and was on solid replay. I turned the base all of the way up and "Flood" made the windows shake. I was rockin' out. I remember coming home and my parents coming out just laughing because they could hear me coming up the drive. They live in the woods and they have a really long driveway so I must of been jamming. As Jars was playing the song this weekend, I sent my parents a text,
What happened, was this car was maybe a lemon. It's hard to tell. My mom and I were minding our own business driving when smoke started pouring from the vents. We're not talking a little smoke. We're talking major can't-breathe-gray-smoke. We pulled over on Jefferson, hopped out and called my dad. The car was towed and turns out the defroster had caught on fire. What I don't get is why did the defroster catch fire IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SUMMER!? Yeah. I don't buy it but that's what we were told.
So, I get a bad rap for cars and then this happens. This was not my fault. Clearly though someone has to be blamed and it all clicked for me. Jars of Clay. This may sound like a stretch but stick with me. I was rocking out. Bass turned all the way up. Thumping to "Flood" rattling it all around in there. It's a cheap GrandAm (sorry if you own one. It was a 93 so it's old.). Things are going to move. They got the wires all jumbled and shaken up. That's the only thing I can think of. It all makes sense now...okay. It doesn't. That's weak I guess. But still. How could that be my fault? In my defense, I've not had a wreck or fender bender since 2002 in my new VW Beetle. I think I've matured...and gotten to be a better driver just maybe.
Just to back up my theory, here's the totally 90's tastic video clip of the song. Imagine the base. Oh that 90's hair and clothes.
I mean, yes, there was the day I went into the ditch...twice (different ditch, same car). There was the white Taurus that I experimented with airbags on (they hurt when they come out. I wouldn't advise experimenting). And yes, I did go "off-roading" into a cornfield with the white Taurus (it wasn't a ditch and in my defense, I TOTALLY would have gotten away with it had it not been for the cornstalks sticking out of my tailpipe.). But the one car which gave me a bad rap that was totally not my fault was the cranberry colored GrandAm. I got this after the Taurus was put to pasture (they just don't stick airbags back in I guess). I loved it. It looked fast. It was reddish. The seats were all cool and buckety. And the stereo seriously rocked. The thing that made me not love the GrandAm was the fire. THAT I had nothing to do with.
I was reminded of the GrandAm and my love for it this weekend. My husband and I got tickets to a Jars of Clay Concert. As they opened, they said they were celebrating their 15th year of making music together since their first album. That album, is what made my GrandAm rock. They played through their whole first album. Each song reminded me of something in that flying cranberry. When they started to play "Flood" though, it all came back. It was 1995 and although I was on my second car, I hadn't had my license for too long. This album came out and was on solid replay. I turned the base all of the way up and "Flood" made the windows shake. I was rockin' out. I remember coming home and my parents coming out just laughing because they could hear me coming up the drive. They live in the woods and they have a really long driveway so I must of been jamming. As Jars was playing the song this weekend, I sent my parents a text,
"@ jars of clay concert. Reminds me of rockin out in the GrandAm. :)" I got this response,
"ha!!! Dad wants to know what caught on fire?"
It took me a second and then I got it. Not funny. All of a sudden, I was not loving the GrandAm.
What happened, was this car was maybe a lemon. It's hard to tell. My mom and I were minding our own business driving when smoke started pouring from the vents. We're not talking a little smoke. We're talking major can't-breathe-gray-smoke. We pulled over on Jefferson, hopped out and called my dad. The car was towed and turns out the defroster had caught on fire. What I don't get is why did the defroster catch fire IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SUMMER!? Yeah. I don't buy it but that's what we were told.
So, I get a bad rap for cars and then this happens. This was not my fault. Clearly though someone has to be blamed and it all clicked for me. Jars of Clay. This may sound like a stretch but stick with me. I was rocking out. Bass turned all the way up. Thumping to "Flood" rattling it all around in there. It's a cheap GrandAm (sorry if you own one. It was a 93 so it's old.). Things are going to move. They got the wires all jumbled and shaken up. That's the only thing I can think of. It all makes sense now...okay. It doesn't. That's weak I guess. But still. How could that be my fault? In my defense, I've not had a wreck or fender bender since 2002 in my new VW Beetle. I think I've matured...and gotten to be a better driver just maybe.
Just to back up my theory, here's the totally 90's tastic video clip of the song. Imagine the base. Oh that 90's hair and clothes.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Sunny Day, Sweepin' the Clouds Away
So the sunshine and cool temp today has me all excited because it's fall and my wedding anniversary is this week. I'm just a little giddy.
We woke up this morning to fighting cats (no surprise there) and brilliant sunshine. As I was drinking my coffee the Sesame Street song popped into my head. When I was a kid, I LOVED Sesame Street. In fact, there isn't a person I've met that hasn't seen this iconic show (if they live in the US that is). Its so hard to pick my favorite character. I think Snuffleupagus, then I change to Cookie Monster, then I change to Ernie, then Grover, then Slimy the worm (he didn't say much but I liked his colors), then Oscar the Grouch. I never really liked Elmo. He kind of annoyed me so I really don't get why he's such a big deal these days.
Anyway, I really like the little stories and the characters. The slightly scary thing is that I remember way to much about that show than I think I should. If they used whatever ninja tactics they used in Sesame Street, on me when I was in school, I would definitely have excelled at match, science, and maybe even gym. Yes. Gym. Here are some the bits I remember that are so inconsequential (big word!) I wish I could forget them and remember really important things like where I put my extra set of keys for the Saturn I just turned in.
Drumroll please....In no particular order...
We woke up this morning to fighting cats (no surprise there) and brilliant sunshine. As I was drinking my coffee the Sesame Street song popped into my head. When I was a kid, I LOVED Sesame Street. In fact, there isn't a person I've met that hasn't seen this iconic show (if they live in the US that is). Its so hard to pick my favorite character. I think Snuffleupagus, then I change to Cookie Monster, then I change to Ernie, then Grover, then Slimy the worm (he didn't say much but I liked his colors), then Oscar the Grouch. I never really liked Elmo. He kind of annoyed me so I really don't get why he's such a big deal these days.
Anyway, I really like the little stories and the characters. The slightly scary thing is that I remember way to much about that show than I think I should. If they used whatever ninja tactics they used in Sesame Street, on me when I was in school, I would definitely have excelled at match, science, and maybe even gym. Yes. Gym. Here are some the bits I remember that are so inconsequential (big word!) I wish I could forget them and remember really important things like where I put my extra set of keys for the Saturn I just turned in.
Drumroll please....In no particular order...
- Mr. McFeely (wait. Nope. That's Mr. Rodgers)
- The story about the kid who's mom wants him to go to the store and buy a stick of butter, a container of milk, and a loaf of bread.
- Teeny Little Super Guy
- When the guy who ran the grocery store died (Mr. Hooper)
- When James Taylor sang on the show and I told everyone he and my dad were best friends
- When Gordon and what's her name when to an art museum
- When Gordon and Maria (that's her name!) got married
- Some bit where kids were playing in a park
- The Ladybugs picnic
- I dance myself to sleep
- "Waiter! There's a fly in my soup!"
- Something with a ballerina and eating cottage cheese? How random is that!
- Something with a little house and flowers. I have no idea.
- Near........Far.....
- Cookie!
- Ala Peanut Butter Sandwiches!
- 1. Ah Ah Ah 2. Ah ah ah
- Sesame Street Theater...something about a flower.
Okay, with all of this reminiscing, I'm off to watch the clips. I'm sure I'll remember more! What a genius show.
Ha ha ha! I was watching the Jelly Man Kelly and the kids woke up the cat! Awesome.
Ha ha ha! I was watching the Jelly Man Kelly and the kids woke up the cat! Awesome.
It's Hamm-ock Time!
Today may be the best hammock day yet. It's sunny, cool, and there are still leaves on the trees. In our yard, we have the best hammock trees. In fact, I'm slightly suspicious that those three trees were what made me like this house.
The trees make a triangle over a little patch of grass. They are big oak trees (I'm ashamed to say I think they are oak. My parents would be so disappointed.) that have a great canopy of leaves. When it's summer, they provide great shade and an amazing sound while the wind goes through the boughs. (Yes. I am in fact trying to redeem my lack of tree species with throwing in official kinds of words.) In the fall, they do the same but towards the end of the season they begin to drop and the sun warms your face and blinds your eyes. Not a win win scenario but I'm in the hammock so who cares!
I love the hammocks. They were a birthday present for my 30th from my husband. There are two of them and they are striped with a great color combination. If you've never laid in a hammock you should. Something happens. It's kinda like Narnia. Well, that may be a stretch. You definitly won't see Mr. Tumnus and if you do, you may need to get checked out. You just sink back, relax, and have no choice but to relax and feel comforted. This year hasn't had nearly enough hammock time.
When I was a teenager, my parents bought our first hammock. They live in the woods and have two great hammock trees just inside of the yard. Sometimes at night, I'd take a blanket out there with a pillow and just lay and relax. It always surprises me how hammocks have an instant relaxing effect. I'm not sure what it is about them that has that soothing effect. I can be stressed, upset, or exhausted and I'll get out feeling like I've woken up from the best nap in the world.
The trees make a triangle over a little patch of grass. They are big oak trees (I'm ashamed to say I think they are oak. My parents would be so disappointed.) that have a great canopy of leaves. When it's summer, they provide great shade and an amazing sound while the wind goes through the boughs. (Yes. I am in fact trying to redeem my lack of tree species with throwing in official kinds of words.) In the fall, they do the same but towards the end of the season they begin to drop and the sun warms your face and blinds your eyes. Not a win win scenario but I'm in the hammock so who cares!
I love the hammocks. They were a birthday present for my 30th from my husband. There are two of them and they are striped with a great color combination. If you've never laid in a hammock you should. Something happens. It's kinda like Narnia. Well, that may be a stretch. You definitly won't see Mr. Tumnus and if you do, you may need to get checked out. You just sink back, relax, and have no choice but to relax and feel comforted. This year hasn't had nearly enough hammock time.
When I was a teenager, my parents bought our first hammock. They live in the woods and have two great hammock trees just inside of the yard. Sometimes at night, I'd take a blanket out there with a pillow and just lay and relax. It always surprises me how hammocks have an instant relaxing effect. I'm not sure what it is about them that has that soothing effect. I can be stressed, upset, or exhausted and I'll get out feeling like I've woken up from the best nap in the world.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Mad Skillz
Okay I'm a slacker. Or rather, I've become one. I need to get back on this blogging soapbox. I've been to lazy to even say how I feel or what I remember. Oh well.
There's a quality I've discovered about myself that I'm sad to say I have grown to like. It's a skill that a "creative" person like me should not like. A skill that is really helpful but totally left brained. In fact, it verges really close to accounting and math (who am I kidding? It is math at least.). If you know me, those two things are nothing like me. In fact, the word math gives me hives. I've developed... mad Excell skillz. Now, you'll notice that skillz has a "z" because although I can do some fancy cell and spreadsheet footwork, my college statistics prof would still give me the abysmal grade he felt I deserved back in the day. And he'd be right. And yes, I did take statistics. And no, I did not do it of my own free will. Just like I didn't take Business Law of my own free will...but I digress.
This realization that I actually like getting stuck in a spreadsheet hit me a little while ago but I didn't want to own up to it until tonight. My husband MattyG and I were pouring over our finances. I had exported our bank statement as a csv file and was reorganizing and calculating like a wiz. I pulled out the random costs (does a vet really have to pay that much?), added up the meals we ate out (WAY too many), and tallied the regular expenses (XM is how much?!). I actually enjoyed it! Never mind the fact that the budget had a good result. I've also gotten like that in work. I used to get stuck in InDesign or Illustrator all day and months would go by without opening a Office program other than Entourage. No more my friend, no more. Now, a few days will go by before I open the beloved Adobe programs. It's a dark day. A dark day indeed. Now, where's that calendar? I need to get it color coded. (Sadly, I'm not kidding.)
There's a quality I've discovered about myself that I'm sad to say I have grown to like. It's a skill that a "creative" person like me should not like. A skill that is really helpful but totally left brained. In fact, it verges really close to accounting and math (who am I kidding? It is math at least.). If you know me, those two things are nothing like me. In fact, the word math gives me hives. I've developed... mad Excell skillz. Now, you'll notice that skillz has a "z" because although I can do some fancy cell and spreadsheet footwork, my college statistics prof would still give me the abysmal grade he felt I deserved back in the day. And he'd be right. And yes, I did take statistics. And no, I did not do it of my own free will. Just like I didn't take Business Law of my own free will...but I digress.
This realization that I actually like getting stuck in a spreadsheet hit me a little while ago but I didn't want to own up to it until tonight. My husband MattyG and I were pouring over our finances. I had exported our bank statement as a csv file and was reorganizing and calculating like a wiz. I pulled out the random costs (does a vet really have to pay that much?), added up the meals we ate out (WAY too many), and tallied the regular expenses (XM is how much?!). I actually enjoyed it! Never mind the fact that the budget had a good result. I've also gotten like that in work. I used to get stuck in InDesign or Illustrator all day and months would go by without opening a Office program other than Entourage. No more my friend, no more. Now, a few days will go by before I open the beloved Adobe programs. It's a dark day. A dark day indeed. Now, where's that calendar? I need to get it color coded. (Sadly, I'm not kidding.)
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Have you seen me? Missing: July to August
Maybe it's me and maybe it's just an "age" thing but I think I'm going crazy. I remember May. I remember June. I do not, however, remember July. I think I remember the beginning (something about an appendix followed by a trip to NYC and Dallas a week later). I just don't remember the middle to the end bit. That's the bit I'd like to remember. Maybe it's good I don't? Can someone tell me if it was okay? I'm guessing since I can't remember nothing monumental happened and the world is okay.
What I'd like to know is how does time go so fast? Last thing I knew, I was laying on the couch nursing a sore tummy from surgery and now, I'm in Dallas again (wasn't I JUST here?!) wondering how in the world it got to be August 19th. Not just any day. It's the flippin' end of the month almost. The end! What happened to the beginning? When I was in school, the summer seemed to fly by and the school year dragged on. They usually seemed adequate though in terms of time. Not like the lightening fast days of today (wow I sound old). Next thing you know I'll be saying how gas was only $1.12 when I was in high school and movies were only $5. Too late. It's been said.
****
On another note, today is my brother Andrew's 26th birthday. If you look back in my older posts (just before May 1, 2010), you'll see the story of my brother's passing and how he's no longer here. Age 7 to 26, he's been in heaven longer than he was here but he'll still be the same 7 year old twit I've always loved. Miss you Sharkboy! (At age 5 or 6, Andrew decided that he wanted to change his name. I think it's got a nice ring to it!)
What I'd like to know is how does time go so fast? Last thing I knew, I was laying on the couch nursing a sore tummy from surgery and now, I'm in Dallas again (wasn't I JUST here?!) wondering how in the world it got to be August 19th. Not just any day. It's the flippin' end of the month almost. The end! What happened to the beginning? When I was in school, the summer seemed to fly by and the school year dragged on. They usually seemed adequate though in terms of time. Not like the lightening fast days of today (wow I sound old). Next thing you know I'll be saying how gas was only $1.12 when I was in high school and movies were only $5. Too late. It's been said.
****
On another note, today is my brother Andrew's 26th birthday. If you look back in my older posts (just before May 1, 2010), you'll see the story of my brother's passing and how he's no longer here. Age 7 to 26, he's been in heaven longer than he was here but he'll still be the same 7 year old twit I've always loved. Miss you Sharkboy! (At age 5 or 6, Andrew decided that he wanted to change his name. I think it's got a nice ring to it!)
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
If you fry it, they will come.
I realize it's been awhile since I've written. I've been thinking about it, but I've just not been inspired. I've also got a few books I want to write, but I've not had the time.
I sat down determined to write something tonight. I've started about 4 different entries and nothing seemed right. I started one about how I left my iPhone at work tonight and I feel lost without it. Bor-ring! I started one about this last weekend. Da-umb! Then it hit me! FRIED BUTTER! Yes. You read that right. Fried Butter.
My husband and I went to the Three River's Festival a few weeks ago. As we walked down the aptly named, "Junk Food Alley", we saw the traditional cotton candy, fried cheese, and other junk food glory all laden with gluten, sugar, and fat. As we rounded the corner, I saw one of the newest additions, Fried Candy Bars. These have been around for years now, but this booth had a little something extra. A few somethings actually. One was a Doughnut Burger. It consisted of 2 doughnuts with a burger in the middle. For only $0.50 you could add lettuce and tomato, and although I'm all for trying to make it healthy, that just sounded even worse than a burger on a doughnut. The final nail in someone's clogged artery coffin however was the fried butter.
Matt and I walked up closer assuming it was a typo or we were reading it wrong but no. Deep fried sweet cream butter. I overheard a rather rotund dude say to his buddies, "I tried that butter, man. It was amazing! You have to try it!" That was just before he was hauled off to the closest hospital. (Not really but I expected it.) How could that be good?! Admittedly, it's been ages since I've had real butter. The thing is, I never just ate it. It was always on bread or something. I rarely ever said, "Hmmm...I think I want butter." and then went to the refrigerator and took out a stick.
I ventured up to take a closer look. Sitting in a grease laden paper boat were about 6 or 8 small dough-balls lightly fried and dusted with powdered sugar. They looked pretty innocent but I could not get over the fried butter. That's all it was. Butter. That's like eating a stick of butter let alone the butter that is in the batter. It was a moment that for once, I realized: people will eat anything if it is fried. I'm a little afraid to see what's next. The mind reels with possibilities.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
In NYC...the city that never sleeps
And here am I...never sleeping. Okay, okay. It is 10:30 and I went to bed about 10 but I've been up since 4:15 "not sleeping." At dinner I thought going to bed early was a great idea. Why is it though, that sometimes, your head hits the pillow and it's like you accidentally pushed the restart button? I was getting ready for bed and felt like I could sleep standing. Light's off, head hits pillow, and "HELLO! Did you order a "Second Wind" for one? We have it right here with a free side of 'Here's what you need to do instead of sleep'!" My travel partner is my mom. Her head hit the pillow and a few minutes later I hear her asleep just like I'd hoped. Even as I type, she's counting sheep. Me? I'm counting keystrokes.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Cooking became fun when I tried it.
Gluten Free Girl is at it again. A challenge. "When did cooking become fun?" Well, I'm not a huge cook lately, nor am I a professional trying to make my own recipes. But I think cooking became fun when I tried it. It was fun to create a recipe and have it turn out to the ooh's and ahh's of the table. So what if the Russian Borscht didn't turn out good. Is Borscht ever good? When I tried to make a traditional English Roast Dinner though, that really knocked it out of the ball park. Bisto gravy included.
I went through a phase in my pre-teens where I wanted to go to Russia. I wanted to experience another culture. My parents took me to the library and I looked in the kids section for any cookbook that looked good. Yes. I was judging a book by it's cover. I chose Russian and my daring parents and 3 year-old brother allowed me to make it. They still tease me to this day. I can't remember what it ended up like and I remember most good meals. It was fun though. I was experiencing another culture from my little home in Grabill, Indiana.
When I returned from a year in Cardiff, Wales I missed the food. I bought a British cookbook and made the roast dinner. I've made many things from that cookbook. All great. Indian food. Great. It's the other cultures you can taste. That's what makes cooking fun. Experiencing other cultures or even celebrating our own with a homemade Thanksgiving meal. That meal, I'm happy to say, faired out far better than the Russian one.
I went through a phase in my pre-teens where I wanted to go to Russia. I wanted to experience another culture. My parents took me to the library and I looked in the kids section for any cookbook that looked good. Yes. I was judging a book by it's cover. I chose Russian and my daring parents and 3 year-old brother allowed me to make it. They still tease me to this day. I can't remember what it ended up like and I remember most good meals. It was fun though. I was experiencing another culture from my little home in Grabill, Indiana.
When I returned from a year in Cardiff, Wales I missed the food. I bought a British cookbook and made the roast dinner. I've made many things from that cookbook. All great. Indian food. Great. It's the other cultures you can taste. That's what makes cooking fun. Experiencing other cultures or even celebrating our own with a homemade Thanksgiving meal. That meal, I'm happy to say, faired out far better than the Russian one.
I am woman hear me...wimper?
I don't like to think of myself as weak. In fact, I prefer to think of myself as invincible and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. In reality, I can't. I can barely jump up a few stairs in my house. Well, let me tell you, this last week was a struggle.
A week ago almost to the minute actually, I had my appendix removed. Stupid appendix. Who needs it? It succeeded in knocking me down all week and tomorrow, I'm to face the throngs of work for a day before going on a business trip. The thing it taught me was this: I'm human. Shocking, I know but I always thought I could do whatever I wanted or get whatever done that I needed to get done. Not so. Especially when you are wearing one of those darling hospital gowns that serve to flatter no one (my backside in particular). To be so vulnerable and tiny sucked. I couldn't get something to drink. I couldn't shower (no worries, as soon as I could, that was the first thing to happen!). I couldn't even sit up without that oh so comfortable hospital bed (and by comfortable I mean stiff as a board) that crinkled every time I moved. I even had jello for my first "meal". Lime jello no less. The anti-jello. I hate lime jello. Any flavor that is red is what I want.
Now here's the thing. I've never had surgery before besides having my tonsils removed so it was a learning experience. As a person with Celiac disease, I am used to having an endoscopy, waking up, falling asleep, and being fine. I expected this surgery to be the same. Wake up, fall asleep, be fine. No, these scars are actually scars, and there is a pain level on a scale of 1 to 10 associated with them. Right now, about a 2. At it's worse, at 10. Sometimes, the surgery pains were worse than the appendix pain when it was still attached. Stupid appendix. So this whole experience has led me to admit that I am not invincible. Especially if an organ the size of a worm can take me down for a week (gross right? organ. Not a fan of the word). Instead of roaring through the week, I whimpered feebly on the couch, bed, couch, bed, floor, and asked for water. Soaking up all of the sympathy until I felt sorry for the sympathizers.
This whole experience did lead me to one question though. Where is my appendix now? Was it thrown away in a trash heap? Poor appendix. It may have had to be removed from me but that seems a little uncalled for. We spent 31 years together. Least I could've had a moment to say good bye.
A week ago almost to the minute actually, I had my appendix removed. Stupid appendix. Who needs it? It succeeded in knocking me down all week and tomorrow, I'm to face the throngs of work for a day before going on a business trip. The thing it taught me was this: I'm human. Shocking, I know but I always thought I could do whatever I wanted or get whatever done that I needed to get done. Not so. Especially when you are wearing one of those darling hospital gowns that serve to flatter no one (my backside in particular). To be so vulnerable and tiny sucked. I couldn't get something to drink. I couldn't shower (no worries, as soon as I could, that was the first thing to happen!). I couldn't even sit up without that oh so comfortable hospital bed (and by comfortable I mean stiff as a board) that crinkled every time I moved. I even had jello for my first "meal". Lime jello no less. The anti-jello. I hate lime jello. Any flavor that is red is what I want.
Now here's the thing. I've never had surgery before besides having my tonsils removed so it was a learning experience. As a person with Celiac disease, I am used to having an endoscopy, waking up, falling asleep, and being fine. I expected this surgery to be the same. Wake up, fall asleep, be fine. No, these scars are actually scars, and there is a pain level on a scale of 1 to 10 associated with them. Right now, about a 2. At it's worse, at 10. Sometimes, the surgery pains were worse than the appendix pain when it was still attached. Stupid appendix. So this whole experience has led me to admit that I am not invincible. Especially if an organ the size of a worm can take me down for a week (gross right? organ. Not a fan of the word). Instead of roaring through the week, I whimpered feebly on the couch, bed, couch, bed, floor, and asked for water. Soaking up all of the sympathy until I felt sorry for the sympathizers.
This whole experience did lead me to one question though. Where is my appendix now? Was it thrown away in a trash heap? Poor appendix. It may have had to be removed from me but that seems a little uncalled for. We spent 31 years together. Least I could've had a moment to say good bye.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Ramblings of my former self
I went to save a document I started writing tonight and as I selected the save spot, I saw a number of folders and documents long forgotten. Books I had started to write ranging from short stories and poems, to kids books and novels. I found poems and prayers that showed God's faithfulness and encouraged me year's later. I also found old journal entries full of ramblings of a girl in her early twenties trying to figure out "life."
Wow. I'm glad I found these. It's really funny to see how strongly I felt or craved something. How anguished I was over a lost relationship that I laugh to think about now. Early entries wondering if my now husband was, "THE ONE" (he was/is, don't worry).
I used to keep a journal religiously in high school and college. I know exactly where they are right now too. They are in the guest room on the highest shelf above my wedding dress. (If anyone is curious, they have a secret alarm that will instantly trap you in a cage so consider yourself warned.) Part of me wants to read them like a novel and feel emotions of the 13 year-old Meghan up to just after living in Wales as a 25 year-old. What a life story! Oh the trials of a 16 year-old Meg frustrated by her first boyfriend. (the shame!) If I get the courage I may post one if only to make everyone laugh at me.
Sure I missed gaps here and there but it's pretty well documented. I remember journaling just before going to college my freshman year and trying to journal with my left arm since my right was broken. That's how dedicated I was to journaling. I've lost part of that. I need to go back. If only to laugh at my thoughts and assumptions about life, love and the pursuit of happiness (or boys, you pick).
Wow. I'm glad I found these. It's really funny to see how strongly I felt or craved something. How anguished I was over a lost relationship that I laugh to think about now. Early entries wondering if my now husband was, "THE ONE" (he was/is, don't worry).
I used to keep a journal religiously in high school and college. I know exactly where they are right now too. They are in the guest room on the highest shelf above my wedding dress. (If anyone is curious, they have a secret alarm that will instantly trap you in a cage so consider yourself warned.) Part of me wants to read them like a novel and feel emotions of the 13 year-old Meghan up to just after living in Wales as a 25 year-old. What a life story! Oh the trials of a 16 year-old Meg frustrated by her first boyfriend. (the shame!) If I get the courage I may post one if only to make everyone laugh at me.
Sure I missed gaps here and there but it's pretty well documented. I remember journaling just before going to college my freshman year and trying to journal with my left arm since my right was broken. That's how dedicated I was to journaling. I've lost part of that. I need to go back. If only to laugh at my thoughts and assumptions about life, love and the pursuit of happiness (or boys, you pick).
Monday, June 21, 2010
Oh Jet Lag, We Meet Again (Or why you should go to Kauai)
I've become a pro at jet-lag. NOT getting it that is. Well, okay, I get it but not for long. Going to China 4 times in one year with a side of London, England will do that to a girl. However, I just returned from my vacation in Kauai and I have to say that this time, it is kicking my butt. I know I won't get pity, I just came from Kauai after all, but I'm trying to decipher where I went wrong. Here I am, at home, working (well, just finished) and it's 9:15pm. Why didn't I feel this awake when I was at work today?
Kauai was amazing. Matt and I went there for our honeymoon and when we got a lucky break at work we were able to go again. We read, relaxed, ate ice cream for dinner, went snorkeling, and ate way more food than we should have. The temperature was great! I'm not normally into heat and stuff but the breeze made it perfect.
One of my favorite moments was, sadly, the second to last day. Towards the end of the day we went to Polihale State Park. It is at the end of the road all of the way to the west. There was an ominous sign saying that only 4-Wheel Drive vehicles were allowed (we had a rental car, does that count?). We'd received many warnings about how bumpy it was, not to get stuck, make it out there if its the last thing you do, blah, blah blah. So we did. Make it out there that is. We didn't get stuck. It was bumpy. Actually, that is an understatement. It was like driving on an oversized Cheeto. No joke. The dirt is reddish-orange, there were pot holes everywhere, and we were constantly dodging giant holes. Just imagine if a Cheeto was huge enough to drive on. That'd be a problem!
Poor Matt was driving and doing a far better job than I would do but I still felt the need to freak out (Sorry Matty). After 45 minutes on this giant Cheeto road we found the most amazing beach ever. It was the kind of beach that made you forget the ordeal it took to get there. It was quiet, with a gorgeous view. One end tapered off to where the island curved and the other end stopped abruptly at the beginning of the Napali coast where cliffs are ridiculously high and there isn't a way to get around it unless you go by boat.
We stepped up to the water and the temperature was perfect. It was bath water warm but NOT from the usual suspects. This is the ocean you know, not your neighbor's pool. The waves were gentle and the white sea foam created intricate patterns in the sand. The sun began to set and there wasn't a bird in the sky. It was a postcard picture of a beach in Hawaii.
It was the postcard picture that gave me this undeniable jet-lag. It was also worth it. How could it not be?
Kauai was amazing. Matt and I went there for our honeymoon and when we got a lucky break at work we were able to go again. We read, relaxed, ate ice cream for dinner, went snorkeling, and ate way more food than we should have. The temperature was great! I'm not normally into heat and stuff but the breeze made it perfect.
One of my favorite moments was, sadly, the second to last day. Towards the end of the day we went to Polihale State Park. It is at the end of the road all of the way to the west. There was an ominous sign saying that only 4-Wheel Drive vehicles were allowed (we had a rental car, does that count?). We'd received many warnings about how bumpy it was, not to get stuck, make it out there if its the last thing you do, blah, blah blah. So we did. Make it out there that is. We didn't get stuck. It was bumpy. Actually, that is an understatement. It was like driving on an oversized Cheeto. No joke. The dirt is reddish-orange, there were pot holes everywhere, and we were constantly dodging giant holes. Just imagine if a Cheeto was huge enough to drive on. That'd be a problem!
Poor Matt was driving and doing a far better job than I would do but I still felt the need to freak out (Sorry Matty). After 45 minutes on this giant Cheeto road we found the most amazing beach ever. It was the kind of beach that made you forget the ordeal it took to get there. It was quiet, with a gorgeous view. One end tapered off to where the island curved and the other end stopped abruptly at the beginning of the Napali coast where cliffs are ridiculously high and there isn't a way to get around it unless you go by boat.
We stepped up to the water and the temperature was perfect. It was bath water warm but NOT from the usual suspects. This is the ocean you know, not your neighbor's pool. The waves were gentle and the white sea foam created intricate patterns in the sand. The sun began to set and there wasn't a bird in the sky. It was a postcard picture of a beach in Hawaii.
It was the postcard picture that gave me this undeniable jet-lag. It was also worth it. How could it not be?
Thursday, June 10, 2010
First thing I ever made...in an oven
There is this great blog called Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef. The "girl" is Gluten-Free like me! Well, on Twitter today, she challenged her followers to blog about the first thing they ever cooked as a kid. I said, "Biscuit Pizza's" but now that I truly think about it, it was something else entirely. I was five or six and alone with a baby-sitter. The Biscuit Pizza story was so interesting in my head as I wrote it. Now, I have to start over.
My brother, Andrew, was a baby. So, my parents, desperate for a night out, left us with our baby-sitter who shall remain nameless (fairly certain we are facebook friends). I decided that I was going to make a cake as a welcome home gift for my parents. Who knows where the sitter was. I got to work! I broke out my mom's "Better Homes & Gardens" red and white gingham cookbook (she still has it by the way) and chose what I thought would be the yummiest treat: Lemon Pudding Cake. I set my first grade self to work reading the ingredients, pretending how to measure, and making a masterpiece. I remember the baby-sitter coming in at some point. I think we baked it. The only thing I can remember is the taste. Oh my word was it bad. It tasted like pure salt! It was the grossest concoction known to man. I also remember the mess. It looked like a bomb exploded in the kitchen...just in time for mom and dad to waltz through the door.
Out of curiosity, I just went and pulled my own BH&G off of the counter. No Lemon Pudding Cake to be found. Maybe my version wasn't so bad after all. Maybe that cake was a bomb.
My brother, Andrew, was a baby. So, my parents, desperate for a night out, left us with our baby-sitter who shall remain nameless (fairly certain we are facebook friends). I decided that I was going to make a cake as a welcome home gift for my parents. Who knows where the sitter was. I got to work! I broke out my mom's "Better Homes & Gardens" red and white gingham cookbook (she still has it by the way) and chose what I thought would be the yummiest treat: Lemon Pudding Cake. I set my first grade self to work reading the ingredients, pretending how to measure, and making a masterpiece. I remember the baby-sitter coming in at some point. I think we baked it. The only thing I can remember is the taste. Oh my word was it bad. It tasted like pure salt! It was the grossest concoction known to man. I also remember the mess. It looked like a bomb exploded in the kitchen...just in time for mom and dad to waltz through the door.
Out of curiosity, I just went and pulled my own BH&G off of the counter. No Lemon Pudding Cake to be found. Maybe my version wasn't so bad after all. Maybe that cake was a bomb.
A little over here... a little over there...
As I created my first and only Twitter account (only because it kinda creeps me out and I'm not sure I'll keep it) I got sucked into immediately personalizing it. I spent my lunch break yesterday picking out a background pattern, couldn't find one, and then proceeded to do the same thing today.
As I looked at the patterns and colors I thought, "Is this what shows ME?" Who cares! It's Twitter. Here's the thing that struck me though: We are putting our "selves" out there on Facebook, on Twitter, on art pages, on blogs, on just about anything really. We then try to personalize it so we stick out from the masses. People put decals on their cars, skins on their laptops, photos on their blogs, all to show who we are or what we do. It's a little crazy. We have shared our "selves" with who knows how many people all in an attempt to say, "Hey! Hey! Look at me!" or whatever your purpose is (I admit I get a bit of the "Hey!" syndrome from time to time. I have a blog after all.) How much is too much though? Can it be too much? Where does the real you reside? Is it on Facebook or Twitter? I can't answer that for you but for me, I'm really starting to give it some thought. I'm also thinking about how much is too much and who sees what and where.
As I looked at the patterns and colors I thought, "Is this what shows ME?" Who cares! It's Twitter. Here's the thing that struck me though: We are putting our "selves" out there on Facebook, on Twitter, on art pages, on blogs, on just about anything really. We then try to personalize it so we stick out from the masses. People put decals on their cars, skins on their laptops, photos on their blogs, all to show who we are or what we do. It's a little crazy. We have shared our "selves" with who knows how many people all in an attempt to say, "Hey! Hey! Look at me!" or whatever your purpose is (I admit I get a bit of the "Hey!" syndrome from time to time. I have a blog after all.) How much is too much though? Can it be too much? Where does the real you reside? Is it on Facebook or Twitter? I can't answer that for you but for me, I'm really starting to give it some thought. I'm also thinking about how much is too much and who sees what and where.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Banana Pancakes on the Brain
As life changes and evolves, so has my take on situations, things, people, and life in general. (I think that covers all of the bases.) When I named the blog, it's only purpose was to be cute. But, in life, sometimes you get great things (pistachio ice cream), some times you get bad things (mashed parnips, remember, I only like mine roasted). All in all though, it always seems to end up okay and for the best. That has been shown to me more and more lately.
I'm leaving for Hawaii on Saturday. Something I can't wait to do. MattyG and I are going to Kauai where we had our honeymoon. Life's gotten slightly simpler since we got married and so I'm excited to really get away and relax for probably the first time since we got married. Loving the idea. We're going to go mountain tubing, snorkeling, lay on the beach, read, eat Banana Pancakes (well, Matt will. I've yet to decide how to handle that impending gluten-fest), and Hawaiian shave ice. I can't wait.
Now, Fort Wayne is NOT a bustling city that you need to escape from but escaping wherever you are is good once and awhile. And before you get any crazy ideas, we are having housesitters so no keggers. :)
Now, off to work and listen to Jack Johnson while I envision eating fresh pineapple on a beach.
I'm leaving for Hawaii on Saturday. Something I can't wait to do. MattyG and I are going to Kauai where we had our honeymoon. Life's gotten slightly simpler since we got married and so I'm excited to really get away and relax for probably the first time since we got married. Loving the idea. We're going to go mountain tubing, snorkeling, lay on the beach, read, eat Banana Pancakes (well, Matt will. I've yet to decide how to handle that impending gluten-fest), and Hawaiian shave ice. I can't wait.
Now, Fort Wayne is NOT a bustling city that you need to escape from but escaping wherever you are is good once and awhile. And before you get any crazy ideas, we are having housesitters so no keggers. :)
Now, off to work and listen to Jack Johnson while I envision eating fresh pineapple on a beach.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Room with a window seat
When I was a little girl, I always wanted a room that had one of those half-circle turret thingys. It would have a window seat that lifted up to show rows upon rows of hidden books. The seat would have a soft cusion (that is always pink in my mind for whatever reason) and perfect with a round window at just the right height so I could peek out and look at the people and trees as I read.
I never got that window seat. Or any window seat for that matter. But I still want one. There was a book I read as a kid called, "Betsy, Tacy, and Tibs." Tibs or Betsy (I can't remember now, it might have been Betsy) had a window seat and she would read for hours on that seat. She also wrote little stories that she kept in a tin under the seat and hoped to get published someday. I wanted to be like her. I wanted to write stories. There were a whole series of books on Betsy, Tacy, and Tibs. Their names always confused me though. Who would name their daughter Tacy? Tibs was short for something but surely there was a cuter nickname!
I never got that window seat. Or any window seat for that matter. But I still want one. There was a book I read as a kid called, "Betsy, Tacy, and Tibs." Tibs or Betsy (I can't remember now, it might have been Betsy) had a window seat and she would read for hours on that seat. She also wrote little stories that she kept in a tin under the seat and hoped to get published someday. I wanted to be like her. I wanted to write stories. There were a whole series of books on Betsy, Tacy, and Tibs. Their names always confused me though. Who would name their daughter Tacy? Tibs was short for something but surely there was a cuter nickname!
Monsters Under the Bed
When my brother, Andrew, was about 5 or 6, he was afraid to go to bed one night. He was afraid of being alone. When my dad asked him why, he said it was because of the monsters under his bed. To which my dad replied, "Andrew, there are no monsters under your bed." This greatly confused my brother. He said something that I thought about today. He said, "Well. Adults need to tell kids this then because if no one tells us, how are we supposed to know? Kids are scared of monsters under their beds and they wouldn't be if adults told them."
So true. How are we supposed to know if people don't tell us? I always expect to know the RIGHT answers...which I don't (don't tell anyone). How am I supposed to know if someone doesn't tell me? It's so funny. What level of it though is arrogance and what level is finding out for yourself? If Andrew had crawled under his bed and looked, he would've known there wasn't a monster under his bed. No Mike Wasowski to scare him and bring up his quota of screams. Just sayin'. If people don't tell you, and you don't try to find the answer, how are you supposed to know?
So true. How are we supposed to know if people don't tell us? I always expect to know the RIGHT answers...which I don't (don't tell anyone). How am I supposed to know if someone doesn't tell me? It's so funny. What level of it though is arrogance and what level is finding out for yourself? If Andrew had crawled under his bed and looked, he would've known there wasn't a monster under his bed. No Mike Wasowski to scare him and bring up his quota of screams. Just sayin'. If people don't tell you, and you don't try to find the answer, how are you supposed to know?
Monday, May 31, 2010
How?
I'm not sure how I've let so much time lapse since my last entry. Time is something that seems to either fly by or creep slower than a snail. It seems like I am still just out of college but no. Time has flown and I have officially been out 9 years. How the heck has that happened? It makes sense but I'm not sure how. I graduated from Anderson University in 2001. Now, I'm horrible at math but that makes 9 years I'm fairly certain.
When I was a kid, I felt like time took forever! Now, as an adult, it seems like it flys by. I don't have kids yet but I can imagine that once they appear, it will go even quicker.
None of this is news I realize but once and a great while it really surprises me how fast it all goes by.
When I was a kid, I felt like time took forever! Now, as an adult, it seems like it flys by. I don't have kids yet but I can imagine that once they appear, it will go even quicker.
None of this is news I realize but once and a great while it really surprises me how fast it all goes by.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
The envy of mad skillz
I just returned from a business trip to NYC for the National Stationery Show. The show was a culmination of a year's worth of work crammed into about 2 months. It was nail-biting and exciting. It was frustrating. It was fun. And it left me with wanting to be more (much like my parents cat Max).
When I left the show I wasn't terribly motivated by the stationery and more motivated by the surface design. However, I just looked at one of my favorite design blogs and they had a recap of the NSS. Now, I just want to make people envious of my mad skillz. Why is that we are never happy with what we have? Maybe it's just me but I always want to be more. I want to draw better (which isn't hard to do!), design better, garden better (again, if I took the effort, I might be okay but who has time), cook better, and relax better. How's that for being a perfectionist!? Who fails at relaxing! Seriously!
My whole life has been like that. I was always aware of where I lacked the skills and never where I excelled. I wonder now if people ever envy my skills. Maybe someone saw my design and products at the NSS and felt the same way. How cool would that be?
One of my favorite design books is called, "Print & Pattern." There is also a blog of the same name. How cool would it to be in that book someday. I have so many ways I want to improve. I also have so many things blocking my way like time. Here's the thing though. If I truly wanted to be better, I'd find a way wouldn't I? Maybe that's why I'm working (after this blog anyway) tonight like I have for so many nights so I can get better. So people can envy my mad skillz. Oh to be the envy. I want to be in a blog other than my own. I want to write a book. I want to be featured. I want my 5 minutes of fame I guess. Excuse me Mr. Warhol but I'm ready.
When I left the show I wasn't terribly motivated by the stationery and more motivated by the surface design. However, I just looked at one of my favorite design blogs and they had a recap of the NSS. Now, I just want to make people envious of my mad skillz. Why is that we are never happy with what we have? Maybe it's just me but I always want to be more. I want to draw better (which isn't hard to do!), design better, garden better (again, if I took the effort, I might be okay but who has time), cook better, and relax better. How's that for being a perfectionist!? Who fails at relaxing! Seriously!
My whole life has been like that. I was always aware of where I lacked the skills and never where I excelled. I wonder now if people ever envy my skills. Maybe someone saw my design and products at the NSS and felt the same way. How cool would that be?
One of my favorite design books is called, "Print & Pattern." There is also a blog of the same name. How cool would it to be in that book someday. I have so many ways I want to improve. I also have so many things blocking my way like time. Here's the thing though. If I truly wanted to be better, I'd find a way wouldn't I? Maybe that's why I'm working (after this blog anyway) tonight like I have for so many nights so I can get better. So people can envy my mad skillz. Oh to be the envy. I want to be in a blog other than my own. I want to write a book. I want to be featured. I want my 5 minutes of fame I guess. Excuse me Mr. Warhol but I'm ready.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Tap Tap Tap...
When I was a little girl living in Bay City, Michigan (all you Bay City-ites Hollah!) I used to LOVE going to the Sage library by my house. In my memory it was amazing. They had a fountain out front to splash your feet in. It had a statue of a lady in the center and she was beautiful. The kids section was the only one I ventured into. They had the best selection of books and I took part in the book club every summer.
I had two books in particular that I remember checking out so much they should have borrowed it from me. One was called "Marianna May and Nursey". It was by Tommy dePaola. I've never met anyone else who has read this book. It was amazing. This was the book I single handedly ruined at the library from getting it so much. It shaped my childhood which come to think of it may be part of the problem. I still remember nearly every word.
Marianna May had a problem. Nursey only let her wear white so she was always getting it dirty. Finally Nursey said she couldn't do anything. One of the house help (Marianna May was very rich) thought up a brilliant idea to make different colored dresses so she could roll in the grass, make mud pies, eat orange ice, and strawberry ice cream. (That was all from memory by the way!) From that, I too thought I should have clothes to match everything I did. Sadly, my parents didn't have the same thoughts or the same budget that Marianna's parents did. If I ever meet anyone else who read this book and loved it we are sure to be instant friends.
I can't explain how much I love this small saddle-stitched book. My favorite dress that she gets is so typically girly it makes me itch. It's the rainbow one so she can paint pictures. Yeah. I know. The only thing that could have possibly made me love it more was if it sparkled. So not much has changed really. (It's true! I still love rainbows and sparkles and I'm almost 31.)
The other book I can't remember the title of to save my life. It was a prize for reading books for the summer. It had a girl named Gwen in it who solved mysteries. The only thing I can remember is that Gwen tapped her teeth with her finger when she thought. Since Gwen did it, I thought all people who thought did. I think that may have been the longest summer for my poor mom. As I thought, I tapped my teeth. Have you ever heard that noise before? On repeat? It's kind of annoying. Try it.....see! Annoying right?
(I was tapping my teeth as I wrote this FYI)
I had two books in particular that I remember checking out so much they should have borrowed it from me. One was called "Marianna May and Nursey". It was by Tommy dePaola. I've never met anyone else who has read this book. It was amazing. This was the book I single handedly ruined at the library from getting it so much. It shaped my childhood which come to think of it may be part of the problem. I still remember nearly every word.Marianna May had a problem. Nursey only let her wear white so she was always getting it dirty. Finally Nursey said she couldn't do anything. One of the house help (Marianna May was very rich) thought up a brilliant idea to make different colored dresses so she could roll in the grass, make mud pies, eat orange ice, and strawberry ice cream. (That was all from memory by the way!) From that, I too thought I should have clothes to match everything I did. Sadly, my parents didn't have the same thoughts or the same budget that Marianna's parents did. If I ever meet anyone else who read this book and loved it we are sure to be instant friends.
I can't explain how much I love this small saddle-stitched book. My favorite dress that she gets is so typically girly it makes me itch. It's the rainbow one so she can paint pictures. Yeah. I know. The only thing that could have possibly made me love it more was if it sparkled. So not much has changed really. (It's true! I still love rainbows and sparkles and I'm almost 31.)
The other book I can't remember the title of to save my life. It was a prize for reading books for the summer. It had a girl named Gwen in it who solved mysteries. The only thing I can remember is that Gwen tapped her teeth with her finger when she thought. Since Gwen did it, I thought all people who thought did. I think that may have been the longest summer for my poor mom. As I thought, I tapped my teeth. Have you ever heard that noise before? On repeat? It's kind of annoying. Try it.....see! Annoying right?
(I was tapping my teeth as I wrote this FYI)
Sunday, May 9, 2010
What I have in common with Pearl Jam...
I like jam okay and I love pearls but that is the closest I may ever come.
Friday, Matt and I went to a Pearl Jam concert at Verizon Wireless whatever it's called now. Since he sat through a Michael Bublé concert, I figured it was his turn. Having never really listened to Pearl Jam seriously, I was curious to see what it was like. My only experience had been Top 10 radio.
As we waited in line to get in, the storm clouds were getting closer and closer and my annoyance was getting higher and higher. I am SUCH a girl when it comes to getting wet. I don't like it. Not one bit. My hair gets frizzy or curly and all funky. I hate it. (insert foot stomp here)
We had been seated on the lawn in great seats for about 30 minutes (the last time I buy lawn tickets for multiple reasons) when they announced all people on the lawn had to get off because a storm was coming. So we went and sat in my car while it barely rained. Then they announced it was safe so we came back and that is of course when it let loose and I got drenched. Stinkin' rain!
So, long story short. After a really long wait, Pearl Jam rocked (even if Eddie Vedder was slightly drunk) but the crowd sucked. Oh my word! Let me say my darling, sweet, unthreatening hubby nearly got in a fight and I was nearly pushed down the lawn. This crowd was so drunk it was insane! Eddie Vedder even came out with a bottle of wine!
Matt and I were deconstructing our recent concerts and the audiences. Now, most have been on the lawn at Verizon so we have vowed to never sit there again but we are uncertain where we fit in the whole scheme of concerts. Here are our concerts we've been to together:
Friday, Matt and I went to a Pearl Jam concert at Verizon Wireless whatever it's called now. Since he sat through a Michael Bublé concert, I figured it was his turn. Having never really listened to Pearl Jam seriously, I was curious to see what it was like. My only experience had been Top 10 radio.
As we waited in line to get in, the storm clouds were getting closer and closer and my annoyance was getting higher and higher. I am SUCH a girl when it comes to getting wet. I don't like it. Not one bit. My hair gets frizzy or curly and all funky. I hate it. (insert foot stomp here)
We had been seated on the lawn in great seats for about 30 minutes (the last time I buy lawn tickets for multiple reasons) when they announced all people on the lawn had to get off because a storm was coming. So we went and sat in my car while it barely rained. Then they announced it was safe so we came back and that is of course when it let loose and I got drenched. Stinkin' rain!
So, long story short. After a really long wait, Pearl Jam rocked (even if Eddie Vedder was slightly drunk) but the crowd sucked. Oh my word! Let me say my darling, sweet, unthreatening hubby nearly got in a fight and I was nearly pushed down the lawn. This crowd was so drunk it was insane! Eddie Vedder even came out with a bottle of wine!
Matt and I were deconstructing our recent concerts and the audiences. Now, most have been on the lawn at Verizon so we have vowed to never sit there again but we are uncertain where we fit in the whole scheme of concerts. Here are our concerts we've been to together:
- Collective Soul: 105 degree weather but no problems other than a third degree sunburn.
- Third Day: Met the band, awesome.
- John Mayer: Ridiculous teenyboppers where we felt ancient.
- Collective Soul: At Pierre's. Enough said. I still feel violated.
- Dave Matthews Band: Great show but the pot stench still turns my stomach if I think about it.
- Michael Bublé: A mostly over 50 crowd with a sprinkling of drunk sorority girls
- Pearl Jam: Drunkest crows (and band) ever.
I'm not sure what our next show will be. I'm thinking it's going to have to be another Christian band so I feel better about the experience not annoyed. Still, Eddie can sing.
Monday, May 3, 2010
This one time at Farm Camp...
For people who know me well, they know this, I hate getting dirty. I hate working outside. I hate sweating. Basically, I hate any kind of hard labor...or labor at all. My parents knew this and thinking they were wise and could reform my evil ways, they sent me to summer camp. Not any summer camp. Farm camp. On a farm. Where you had to work...HARD.
This was possibly one of the hardest weeks of my existence. The first warning sign should have come when one of the primary items that I would have to bring was work boots followed by a straw hat. Yes, you read that right. A straw hat.
This "camp" or as I like to call it "seasonal free labor" consisted of feeding chickens, grinding corn BY HAND, milking goats, cutting the lawn with a manual lawn mower, picking cotton, and feeding the ravenous sled dogs that just happened to live there. The power was only on from 9am-8pm. We had to get up when it was still dark. You could only take a shower every other day and "fun" was playing with old-fashioned toys that couldn't fight back.
This concept was probably genius. It was a working farm that sold its produce and we were free labor. Not only that, but the people running the joint were charging my parents to have me work. Not the reverse! Needless to say, this attempt of my parents to get me to enjoy working in the wide world and understanding the joys of hard labor failed. I just resent the week that I had to use an out house, milk a goat, grind corn by hand, and feed the ravenous sled dogs.
This wasn't the only time they sought to improve my life skills. They also sent me to "Super Camp". Let me tell you, that was anything but "super". It revolved around learning. I'll leave you with that for now.
This was possibly one of the hardest weeks of my existence. The first warning sign should have come when one of the primary items that I would have to bring was work boots followed by a straw hat. Yes, you read that right. A straw hat.
This "camp" or as I like to call it "seasonal free labor" consisted of feeding chickens, grinding corn BY HAND, milking goats, cutting the lawn with a manual lawn mower, picking cotton, and feeding the ravenous sled dogs that just happened to live there. The power was only on from 9am-8pm. We had to get up when it was still dark. You could only take a shower every other day and "fun" was playing with old-fashioned toys that couldn't fight back.
This concept was probably genius. It was a working farm that sold its produce and we were free labor. Not only that, but the people running the joint were charging my parents to have me work. Not the reverse! Needless to say, this attempt of my parents to get me to enjoy working in the wide world and understanding the joys of hard labor failed. I just resent the week that I had to use an out house, milk a goat, grind corn by hand, and feed the ravenous sled dogs.
This wasn't the only time they sought to improve my life skills. They also sent me to "Super Camp". Let me tell you, that was anything but "super". It revolved around learning. I'll leave you with that for now.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
You can do it if you set your mind to it!
“You have to have confidence in your ability, and then be tough enough to follow through.
― Rosalynn Carter
I have this undeniable expectation that if I set my mind to do something, not only will I do it, but it will be perfect coming out of the gate. I remember the first time I realized this wasn't the case. I hadn't been out of college long and was house sitting for my parents. I think it was their anniversary or someone's birthday because I decided I would make a cake as a welcome home gesture. I was going to be all "Martha Stuart" and glaze this angel food cake. They would be amazed at my mad skills and it would be a success. It was not. The angel food cake turned out fine but it was from a mix so there wasn't any real danger involved there. The trick was a glaze that was sure to delight and amaze. The amazing part was how it didn't glaze at all it just got absorbed into the cake. Totally ridiculous.
So today, I sat down at the table to draw. Now, keep in mind that my husband is the illustrator, not me. In fact, when I went to college, I was going to stay as far away from art as possible because my mom was the artist. Not me! When I did end up in art classes the beginning of my junior year, I was seriously lacking in the drawing department. So I sat down with a fresh sketchbook all set to draw. I start and stop. Not going so good. Everything I drew was wonky and not perfect.
Another example from today. Our house is great but the bushes out front are a mess. I decided to get out some pent up frustration out while pulling weeds and trimming bushes. After really going to town for what seemed like ages, I stepped back and laughed. The bush was now a stump and there was all sorts of leafy carnage laying everywhere. Mrs Greenjeans I am clearly not. I called in the reinforcements and my mom is going to show me how the do the rest. Yet another area where I am actually not perfect.
Thinking you are perfect and can do anything is great until you are slapped in the face by an over grown twig or wonky illustration. Then, it's just annoying!
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Is this thing on?
Yes. Yes it is. Shoot. I didn't think people read this thing! I'm so touched that people are interested in what I have to say. I mostly just thought of it as a journal going out there no one has read or will read. Pressure is on now! :)
I haven't always been an only child. Part 2
May 1, 1992
I woke up for school and was so excited about the prospect of a slumber party at my friend Lisa's house. It was her 13th birthday party. The majority of the day is a blur. I can only suppose it was a standard day in the life of a 12-year old.
As the bus started for home, I noticed an ambulance parked on the side of the road. I turned to my friend Molly and said, "Wouldn't it be weird if I knew the person in there?" I did.
As the bus rounded for home, I saw police officers in front of our house on State Road 1. I got off of the bus and the wind was blowing really hard. My pastor came up to me and said there had been an accident. My brother, Andrew, had gotten off of the bus and been hit by a car. He was to take me to the hospital where my parents were waiting for me. I was told that he had some broken bones but they weren't sure how serious it was. I remember a lot of random things. Like a billboard with Dave Coulier on it for a celebrity hockey game.
After waiting at the hospital, we were told that he had too many internal injuries and he had passed away. Even as I write this, it seems like a former life. I was 12. Andrew was 7. You aren't supposed to wake up a sibling and fall asleep an only child.
I remember a lot of people being at the hospital. I remember it being really dark. I remember after I found out I tried to call my friend Emily but couldn't reach her and instead called my friend Marissa. Her poor brother. Marissa was outside and I just blurted out, "Andrew just died! I'll call back." (So sorry Seth!) I remember not crying. I remember feeling like I needed to go make sure people were okay and that they knew we were okay. The rest is a dark blur.
My brother was an amazing little kid. He called eyebrows, byeows. Hamburgers were called hangaburgers. He had this little elf dance that was awesome and he could fight like a champ. I was your typical antagonizing older sister. I loved making him mad. It was so easy! He had one way to get back. He would bend in half and charge at me. He would only stop when his head made contact with my stomach as I flew backwards and got the air knocked out of me. The stories my parents and I have between he and I are just hilarious.
I also remember people being supportive in such a difficult situation. I also remember one misguided "friend" who said after I'd been back to school a few weeks and was crying in class said, "What. You're still upset about that?" Yes. Yes I was. I challenge you to be different. In fact, I still have my moments and it has been 18 years. I'm not ashamed.
The photo above is my brother Andrew and I when we still lived in Michigan. He's probably 3 which would make me 8ish. I love how I'm picking a bandaid and he's grinning like a fool. He always was happy.
These last few months, I've really been thinking about Andrew. What would he look like? Would he work with my parents, husband, and aunt at the agency? Would he be tall? Would he be married? My cousin Joe wondered if he'd wear hipster jeans. (That made me laugh) I'm sure he would. He had those darn Vanilla Ice stripes in his hair so who knows what he would've done.
I was talking to my cousin Joe on Monday about Andrew. He said he can't think of an area of his life that Andrew's death hadn't touched. I absolutely agree. He may have only been around for 7 years but his impact has far exceeded that.
I tell you all of this not for attention or even pity. Just to say this (let me get out that soap box again): If you have a sibling, be thankful. I've heard people say, "I wish I was an only child!." No you don't. Trust me. I've had the rare and unfortunate opportunity to see both sides. If I could change things, I'd chose the sibling way every time. Make the most of your time with them. You won't regret it.
The night before Andrew died was my parents anniversary. I was babysitting Andrew and set up a treasure hunt. We had a blast! I've always been so happy that my last memory of Andrew was such a fun one! Imagine if we'd argued and fought. I really miss that twit but all in all, I'm glad I had him so I could miss him. (I hope that makes sense).
I haven't always been an only child.
There is a song that I love. It's called, "If I Could Forget to Breathe" by a little known artist called John Gorka. Here are the lyrics:
If I could forget to breathe
Forget to breathe entirely
It's happened down through history
And surely I could lose my head
Some night I could drink too much
And take it off and just forget
And I will learn all languages
I will speak in every tongue
From highnesses to savages
And to all beneath the sun
Someday I will paint the sky
I will build a ladder, make a roller
That could reach that high
And nothing that I do will pass
Everything I will and make and feel
And dream and know will last
I will rid the world of sorrow
Stop all wars and pain
I will tell you of tomorrow
As I rule the wind and rain
I can do it all it's true
But only when I've done all that
Oh will I turn away from you
Only when I've done all that
Oh will I turn away from you
There is something that is lost in just reading the lyrics. The melody is haunting and touching. Have you ever really looked at the words of a song and it doesn't mean half of what you thought it did? Yeah. All of my favorites I've decided are related more to the melody and music rather than the words. This is one case.
When I was younger, say around ages 9-12, my dad played this album a lot. When I think about certain events in my life, this is "Meg's Theme" on that soundtrack. When I'm feeling melancholy, this is my go to song. When I'm "in the depths of despair" ala Anne of Green Gables, this is my song.
This time of year always makes me pensive especially right now. I've not always been an only child. The time is coming close when I went from being an older sibling to being the only child again. I'll tell that story soon. It's on my mind a lot these last few months.
If I could forget to breathe
Forget to breathe entirely
It's happened down through history
And surely I could lose my head
Some night I could drink too much
And take it off and just forget
And I will learn all languages
I will speak in every tongue
From highnesses to savages
And to all beneath the sun
Someday I will paint the sky
I will build a ladder, make a roller
That could reach that high
And nothing that I do will pass
Everything I will and make and feel
And dream and know will last
I will rid the world of sorrow
Stop all wars and pain
I will tell you of tomorrow
As I rule the wind and rain
I can do it all it's true
But only when I've done all that
Oh will I turn away from you
Only when I've done all that
Oh will I turn away from you
There is something that is lost in just reading the lyrics. The melody is haunting and touching. Have you ever really looked at the words of a song and it doesn't mean half of what you thought it did? Yeah. All of my favorites I've decided are related more to the melody and music rather than the words. This is one case.
When I was younger, say around ages 9-12, my dad played this album a lot. When I think about certain events in my life, this is "Meg's Theme" on that soundtrack. When I'm feeling melancholy, this is my go to song. When I'm "in the depths of despair" ala Anne of Green Gables, this is my song.
This time of year always makes me pensive especially right now. I've not always been an only child. The time is coming close when I went from being an older sibling to being the only child again. I'll tell that story soon. It's on my mind a lot these last few months.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
I get to be arm candy!!!
(steps up onto a soap box)
Ahem! Attention, Attention!
Come see my husband (and me) at the Summit City Comic Con! He's going to be doing sketches, selling his hot off of the press comic book, "The Troll & the Giant", and I'll be his arm candy/bouncer. It's the first time for any of this so come on out!!! Summit City Comic Con. Be there! May 22 (Also, my birthday. Come as a gift to me.)
He's been going to these just forever and wanting to be in a show just forever. It's his first try out and also the first time this even will be in Fort Wayne. Come support it! Thank you!
(Cough Cough) (Step down from soap box)
(If you are curious, the soap box is located in Speaker's Corner, Hyde Park, London, UK, the center of my world)
(Hi Na, Zöe, and Andy!)
Ahem! Attention, Attention!
Come see my husband (and me) at the Summit City Comic Con! He's going to be doing sketches, selling his hot off of the press comic book, "The Troll & the Giant", and I'll be his arm candy/bouncer. It's the first time for any of this so come on out!!! Summit City Comic Con. Be there! May 22 (Also, my birthday. Come as a gift to me.)
He's been going to these just forever and wanting to be in a show just forever. It's his first try out and also the first time this even will be in Fort Wayne. Come support it! Thank you!
(Cough Cough) (Step down from soap box)
(If you are curious, the soap box is located in Speaker's Corner, Hyde Park, London, UK, the center of my world)
(Hi Na, Zöe, and Andy!)
Sunday, April 25, 2010
America's Most Stressful Jobs 2010 - CNBC
America's Most Stressful Jobs 2010 - CNBC
I'm so happy its not just me! They have Ad Exec on their top 10 list as well as corporate executive. I'm not sure which one I actually am but I know that I feel the pressures to keep my clients, get new ones, etc. I don't think it's up there with a surgeon though. That's just crazy talk. :)
I'm so happy its not just me! They have Ad Exec on their top 10 list as well as corporate executive. I'm not sure which one I actually am but I know that I feel the pressures to keep my clients, get new ones, etc. I don't think it's up there with a surgeon though. That's just crazy talk. :)
Saturday, April 24, 2010
You can't have that!
"Hey Meg! I was eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch for breakfast the other day and you can't eat that! It has gluten in it!"
Gee. Thanks. What a revelation. :) Last night as Matt and I were watching our brand spankin' new Blu-Ray of Avatar (which is amazing visually by the way), he turned to me and said, "Do you ever get tired of people asking about Celiac disease? I get tired for you!" In short: Yes but I'm touched they are curious. So, for all of you voracious wheat eaters out there...here's my story:
(Cue birds chirping and lovely music playing ala Disney)
It was late Summer 2007. I was preparing to marry the man of my dreams (M@ttyg) and working really fast and furious on releasing a full line of stationery by my self. I was feeling rough! I was nauseous, achy, exhausted, dizzy, and feeling kinda beat up. I chalked it up to work and proceeded with my life.
September 29, 2007 rolled around and it was my wedding day. Then the honeymoon in Kauai. Then we came back to work. I expected to be 100% better because the stress was over. Guess again. I felt worse than before! I went to the doctor and she said, "I'd be shocked if you weren't pregnant!" Having only been married for 2 weeks, that was extremely unlikely and I told her so. She ran all sorts of blood tests and it turned out I was not pregnant (Told ya!) but I was extremely anemic. She turfed me to the next doctor, a hematologist.
(Cue ominous evil music)
Now, unbeknownst to me, a hematologist also specializes in cancer. At least the one I was sent to did. Upon meeting me he went into cancer talk (real uplifting discussion for a 3 week old marriage by the way). While it was uncommon, it certainly could happen. He turfed me to the next doctor, a Gastroenterologist (or something like that). She was my lucky star. She instantly didn't think it was cancer but diet related. I didn't think it was that but hey! what do I know. We did an endoscopy followed by a colonoscopy on New Year's Eve (you've not partied until you've had a colonoscopy!). She was right.
Sometime in mid-January 2008 I found out that I had Celiac disease which meant that I was allergic to wheat, barley, oats, rye, and a bunch of other things related to wheat and gluten. The trick is, its more than just an allergy. It's actually a disease. Its really only an allergy in that I have a reaction. Its a disease in that if I have gluten, my body attacks itself. It's an autoimmune disease.
When I have gluten, sometimes it effects me in a way I can tell but it always effects me in a way I can't. The symptoms I feel are extreme nausea combined with chills and hot flashes. About 1 week later a joint will ache so bad I can't bend it. About 2 weeks later my iron takes a dive and I'm exhausted. Internally, all sorts of things begin to degrade and my body doesn't take in the nutrients it needs so I either lose weight (yeah!) or gain weight (nay!), get anemic, bloated, and a whole bunch of other really attractive features. Also, I've noticed that my allergies are magnified or I can't fight off sickness as well. Additionally, this year for the first time I've noticed that if I'm really stressed, my body just decides to act like it's had gluten by making me nauseous and achy but in reality, I'm okay. That one really stumped the doctors this week.
So, it has been one heck of a journey. Mostly, it's been okay. People always say, "I don't know if I could do it! I love bread to much!" Here's the thing: you totally could. It's like driving a stick-shift. If I can do it, anyone can.
I'm a little bit country, I'm a little bit emo
I've been a little to mopey and emo lately. You know that saying where if you can't say something nice don't say it at all? That should have been my motto from the minute the clock struck 12:00 on January 1. Man what a difficult year it has been! The thing is, I don't think I'm alone. As I looked around facebook the last few months, it seems like we're all a bunch of whiners (and I'm included in that). Apparently, we all just need a hug..."I'd like the give the world a coke...." Well, maybe not Coke. Seems like that'd get everyone more ramped up.
I don't know. What I do know is that I'm tired on focusing on the negative and getting knocked down. I take it all too personally whether it's someone commenting on the work I've done, the state of my house, or the kleptomaniac cat that is Olive. Why do I do this? I dunno know. Just one more thing to whine about I guess. :)
I don't know. What I do know is that I'm tired on focusing on the negative and getting knocked down. I take it all too personally whether it's someone commenting on the work I've done, the state of my house, or the kleptomaniac cat that is Olive. Why do I do this? I dunno know. Just one more thing to whine about I guess. :)
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Yeah, I'm Online. What of it?
Shhhh....I'm online and I'm working as well. Don't tell my email.
There's something "sneaky" about working, being online, and NOT checking my email. It's completely mental. I know it. Why should I care if I'm online and not checking email. Or working, and not checking email. I feel like I'm cheating on my email. This seems to be an overdependent relationship that needs to be monitored. My email doesn't care. It's just taunting me, "Psst. Meg! Hey Meg! I've got email! It may be a crisis just waiting to pounce or junk. Only I know. Hmmm....Wouldn't you like to know? I could tell you. Just click on that Entourage button and all will be revealed."
Evil email. Seriously! I have friends who work for other companies and are completely addicted to their crackberry's. When I travel for work, I'm somewhat addicted to my iPhone email but if I'm not traveling or in meetings, I rarely turn the email on. I could, but that is a dangerous slope my friends. Very dangerous. One moment, you are emailing in an airport and the next minute you are hiding in the bathroom checking email trying to hide your addictive behavior from your husband. (HAND ON HEART THIS ISN'T ME! IT'S A FRIEND I SWEAR!) (THAT SOUNDS LIKE A DENIAL PROBLEM BUT IT REALLY ISN'T ME.) (REALLY)
Anyway, if you see my email, I wasn't here.
There's something "sneaky" about working, being online, and NOT checking my email. It's completely mental. I know it. Why should I care if I'm online and not checking email. Or working, and not checking email. I feel like I'm cheating on my email. This seems to be an overdependent relationship that needs to be monitored. My email doesn't care. It's just taunting me, "Psst. Meg! Hey Meg! I've got email! It may be a crisis just waiting to pounce or junk. Only I know. Hmmm....Wouldn't you like to know? I could tell you. Just click on that Entourage button and all will be revealed."
Evil email. Seriously! I have friends who work for other companies and are completely addicted to their crackberry's. When I travel for work, I'm somewhat addicted to my iPhone email but if I'm not traveling or in meetings, I rarely turn the email on. I could, but that is a dangerous slope my friends. Very dangerous. One moment, you are emailing in an airport and the next minute you are hiding in the bathroom checking email trying to hide your addictive behavior from your husband. (HAND ON HEART THIS ISN'T ME! IT'S A FRIEND I SWEAR!) (THAT SOUNDS LIKE A DENIAL PROBLEM BUT IT REALLY ISN'T ME.) (REALLY)
Anyway, if you see my email, I wasn't here.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Must have this...
Oh my. My need to be an adult and obtain a headboard has been acheived. Check this out at blik! Now to convince the hubby! "Ohhh Maaattttyyyy...."
Sunday, April 11, 2010
A few of my favorite things...
Today is one of my favorite things. It's spring, the birds are chirping, I have the potential to lay in the hammocks, and it looks like it might storm. I was going to work but decided that I would rather read and watch movies all day. Something I've not done in awhile. Matt and I were supposed to get up and go to small group and church but small group got cancelled so we decided to lay low today. That's another one of my favorite things. So...in the spirit of favorite things, I'm going to make a list (in NO order):
Now off to one of my least favorite things: dum dum dummmmm The Grocery Store. (cue the horror music)
- Hammocks with a warm breeze blowing and a good book
- Kids books that are ridiculously cute and make me want to be the main character
- My husband
- My parents
- Good music: Natalie Merchant, Meiko, Ingrid Michaelson, John Gorka, Joni Mitchell, James Taylor, more meloncholy stuff.
- A good movie like (500) Days of Summer or Fantastic Mr. Fox
- Did I mention the cats? Olive and Hazel the Odd Couple of cats. Hazel is 12 and over dependent. Olive is almost 1 and like an ADD toddler.
- Birds Chirping.
- Fall in every sense of the word
- Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream
- Steak (I am my father's daughter)
- My couch (most comfortable thing in the world)
- Gluten-Free Surprises. Things that I have had to do without and now can be found Gluten-Free.
- Rain
- Thunderstorms
- Fireplaces
- Long Walks on the Beach (I had to through that in since it appeared for a moment I was writing a sappy personal add)
- Hearing my husband do impressions spot on. I love that man. He really is a peach.
- Asparagus (don't know why, I just do)
- My nook filled with good books
- Rainbows and puppy dogs
Now off to one of my least favorite things: dum dum dummmmm The Grocery Store. (cue the horror music)
Monday, March 29, 2010
Is 30 Middle-Aged?
So Matt and I were at the Michael Bublé concert this weekend and realized something...we may just be middle aged.
A few summers ago we went to a John Mayer concert. It was amazing. HOWEVER, we were surrounded by teenyboppers saying, "OMG. John is SOOOO HOOOTTTT!" The other night, it was, "Michael Bublé is so darling!" Aside from a few girls in their 20's, most of the crowd was 40+. We could tell because instead of jumping up immediately, the whole crowd stayed seated in a civilized manner. It was bliss. And then I felt old. When you add the fact that my joints are aching from my Celiac disease, I feel like an arthritic 30 year old. and yes, Michael Bublé was just darling. I wanted to pinch his cheeks. ;)
A few summers ago we went to a John Mayer concert. It was amazing. HOWEVER, we were surrounded by teenyboppers saying, "OMG. John is SOOOO HOOOTTTT!" The other night, it was, "Michael Bublé is so darling!" Aside from a few girls in their 20's, most of the crowd was 40+. We could tell because instead of jumping up immediately, the whole crowd stayed seated in a civilized manner. It was bliss. And then I felt old. When you add the fact that my joints are aching from my Celiac disease, I feel like an arthritic 30 year old. and yes, Michael Bublé was just darling. I wanted to pinch his cheeks. ;)
Sunday, March 21, 2010
You should never look in a girl's purse...
And yet, here I am about to show its contents to the 3 people who read my blog.
Amanda at Swedish Pankakes tagged me in this little challenge...be careful what you wish for! I happen to be carrying my biggest bag today. My Cath Kidston cowboy bag. This sucker is mammoth and I carry it out of principle right now. I love the print but the bags a bit bulky. So this bag is my newest one and I've been carrying it for 1 month at the most. Without further adieu, the contents of the bag.
Amanda at Swedish Pankakes tagged me in this little challenge...be careful what you wish for! I happen to be carrying my biggest bag today. My Cath Kidston cowboy bag. This sucker is mammoth and I carry it out of principle right now. I love the print but the bags a bit bulky. So this bag is my newest one and I've been carrying it for 1 month at the most. Without further adieu, the contents of the bag.
So, I found a letter I was supposed to give to my cousin a few weeks ago that he left at my parents (sorry Joseph! It's on the table for you), a stack of receipts and church bulletins "this deep", two prescription bottles which both curiously say, "MAY CAUSE DIZZINESS" and may explain why I've been dizzy. My business card holder, grocery lists for the last 3 weeks, anti-bacterial gel which I only use in China, my Bible, garage door opener, keys, iPhone (in my hand taking the photo), and the huge envelope that holds my various lip glosses, receipts, eye glasses cloth, and passport (you never know when you will have to escape). Curiously missing is my wallet....hmmmm. That must be in my other bag.
Friday, March 19, 2010
O.M.G. The perils of turning 17.
As I was delaying the inevitable nighttime ritual of brushing my teeth, I happened upon a blog of a 16-year old girl who is turning 17 in 3 days. She is freaking out because time is going too fast and she's almost 17. O.M.G. (says she)
She thinks she'll die she's so freaked out by it. 17. She's only turning 17. Are you kidding me? Wow. I turned 30 last year and thought that was bad but 17, that is SO much worse.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Things that make noise in the night
As I laid in bed an hour ago wondering if I should get up or lay there, I heard a noise. It was coming from the bedroom door or somewhere in that general area. It started slight and quiet, like a murmur. Then it gradually increased in volume and sounded like a contented sigh. The sighs were coming too closely together though and clearly it wasn't human. I kind of sat up to see what was happening. Olive, the ridiculous almost-1-year-old cat was laying my Matt and I's feet so surprisingly she wasn't causing noises. I got out and walked to the door. In the dim light from the hallway, I could see our senior citizen cat Hazel, age 12, curled up in a tight little ball snoring away. I'd been slightly scared by a cat. And not for the first time mind you. She's done that before AND louder! She is the champ of snoring cats. She's woken me up out of a really solid sleep. She's even woken Matt up and that's a challenge let me tell you! There was something different about this snoring episode though. I'd never heard such a petite little noise grow in volume so quickly. And it was adorable too! The tiny little "hmmm. hmmmm. hmmmm." noises were so sweet and happy. It was similar to the noise she makes when she's really purring and her little heart is full...
Okay. Stopping. Really? "Little heart is full". I am CLEARLY sleep deprived. This has to end. How ridiculous. My next post should be on monster trucks to slightly redeem myself. Little heart is full...for pete's sake!
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Photo Explanation
The photo on my page is one that I took when Matt and I were in London for Naomi's wedding to Andy in September. This amazing flower stand was just outside of the Kensington Tube station.
The photo for my profile was also taken on that trip. We took it at the Tower of London.
London. One of the best places on Earth.
The photo for my profile was also taken on that trip. We took it at the Tower of London.
London. One of the best places on Earth.
The shaping of the blog.
When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a librarian. That way I could get locked in the library at night and just read whatever I wanted to. I didn't have to worry about some other punk kid checking it out. I could have it all to myself. I guess I see now where my lack of sharing comes from.
I still think about that little girls dreams and aspirations from time to time. Why would I want to stay in a dark, vast library by myself? I hate being alone now as a 30 year-old. I still love reading though. My parents got me a Barnes & Noble nook for Christmas and its rarely left my side. I'm trying to figure out something new to read though. I'm reading a book right now that is a self-help kinda thing and it's boring me. Guess I don't want to help my self THAT much.
Matt's off tonight on a new Comic venture. He's meeting with a bunch of creators like him. I may start calling it the "brain trust" if it works out. I'm so thrilled for him that he's been drawing pretty much non-stop these days. His dream is to do this for a living and I'd love for him to be happy all of the time. At work right now he's working on a special new stationery item for a new client. I'm crossing all fingers and toes that it works out. Watch this space if it does.
I still think about that little girls dreams and aspirations from time to time. Why would I want to stay in a dark, vast library by myself? I hate being alone now as a 30 year-old. I still love reading though. My parents got me a Barnes & Noble nook for Christmas and its rarely left my side. I'm trying to figure out something new to read though. I'm reading a book right now that is a self-help kinda thing and it's boring me. Guess I don't want to help my self THAT much.
Matt's off tonight on a new Comic venture. He's meeting with a bunch of creators like him. I may start calling it the "brain trust" if it works out. I'm so thrilled for him that he's been drawing pretty much non-stop these days. His dream is to do this for a living and I'd love for him to be happy all of the time. At work right now he's working on a special new stationery item for a new client. I'm crossing all fingers and toes that it works out. Watch this space if it does.
What's in a name?
"I'm going to write a blog" I said to my husband Matt (herefore called MattyG)
"Oh, yeah! That's cool. What are you going to write about?"
"No idea. Stuff I guess."
Wow. Riveting. Stuff. So Here it goes.
I never realized how much pressure I would feel coming up with the title! It had to be clever, perfect, pensive, thoughtful (is that the same as pensive?), and above all funny. Here's a glimpse at what I thought about (and yeah, Parsnips + Pistachios was the best I could come up with):
"Oh, yeah! That's cool. What are you going to write about?"
"No idea. Stuff I guess."
Wow. Riveting. Stuff. So Here it goes.
I never realized how much pressure I would feel coming up with the title! It had to be clever, perfect, pensive, thoughtful (is that the same as pensive?), and above all funny. Here's a glimpse at what I thought about (and yeah, Parsnips + Pistachios was the best I could come up with):
- Favorite song titles ranging from "If I Could Forget to Breathe" to "Like the Weather" were considered but although I love the songs, once I looked at the lyrics, they um were a little depressing. I had NO idea and I'd been listening for years and years to these songs.
- "Keep Calm & Carry On" and "Don't Panic" were both evoked and used up.
- Nicknames: I have a plethora of nicknames. Moogan, Nutmeg, Megaphone, Mega, Megatron, MeggieB (for Britton my maiden name), MeggyG (for Gross my married name), and Meggerinos (don't ask, I can't explain it).
- Names that had meaning relating to Celiac Disease, my faith, my cats, or something I cherised more than anything.
- Things my little brother wanted to be called as a kid: Bite Bite, Sharkboy, etc.
- "Learning Mandarin" because I'd like to but then this would give me pressure and let's face it Mandarin is hard enough.
- Favorite Foods. One friend has a great title based on a favorite food but I couldn't narrow it down to one thing so I've got a bizarre pale green and yellow combo.
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