So I love my building and I even love my cubicle, if that’s possible. Nothing too overwhelming… not yet at least. I basically got to chat with my supervisor all day long, go out to eat, do a little paperwork and then head home.
Immediately after work I purchased a microwave. I felt it only appropriate to have popcorn for dinner (and yogurt) after craving it as long as I had. It hit the spot perfectly.
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The plan was to sleep in late because nothing is going on all afternoon. Well, besides the internet guy coming over to hook up my computer. But other than that, no plans. Just relaxing. Maybe some sun soaking, etc. Early morning phone call wakes me up. And following it I just lay there. Staring at my white, white ceiling. My air mattress is going flat, the sun is shining bright through the blinds, and me trying to go back to sleep is borderline worthless. So I begin my day, groggy eyed, but somewhat bushy tailed. Um… what to do… what to do… Okay, gourmet breakfast burrito for starters. Yay. That was fun. Clean the apartment. No, I don’t want to clean my apartment! It feels so empty I think I’d rather keep it full of boxes and papers in order to take up space. Finally I get to cleaning and it looks pretty darn good. I cannot wait for my stuff to get here!
I was picked up for the baseball game at 4:15 by my second cousins and their four kids. They have been more than gracious toward me, and much to my delight invited me to use the spare ticket they had. Thank goodness, then, that I at least had Saturday night plans (okay, so I spent most of it with a children under the age of ten, some of whom thought we were watching hockey, but I had a great time nonetheless). And we enjoyed the works. Hot dogs loaded with toppings, $5.50 “fresh squeezed” lemonades, and ice cream for dessert. Yes, my stomach is not exactly agreeing with this evening’s dietary choices, but once in awhile I suppose one must splurge.
Toward the end of the night I was turned around in my seat people watching, which is what I do at all baseball games when there is a pause in events. Actually it is one of my favorite parts. I mean really, you get all sorts at a baseball game, which makes crowd scanning even more enjoyable. Of course there was the fifty-year old woman dressed and acting seventeen, the rich couple dressed in fancy pants and high heels, and the somewhat scary, partially balding, sno-cone/beer/cotton candy selling guy with such an abrasive and intrusive voice that you can’t help give him your attention, as well as half your wallet.
So there I was, scanning as usual, when all of the sudden my eyes focused on something strangely familiar. No way. Can’t be. I blink, refocus. Holy schmoley! A guy from college who was in the same club I joined a couple of years back was sitting five rows up. Here I am, in a completely different state, in the middle of a big city and BAM. Right there, someone I know, of course not “know” as in really, really well. He is more accurately described as an acquaintance, but still, a familiar face is worth a million dollars when you know less people than you can count on three fingers. He was just as shocked and excited as I was, and at first even a little dumbfounded. Couldn’t believe it. We caught up on each other’s whereabouts and will hopefully meet up sometime.
Although I knew it is true, the old saying never ceases to amaze me, “It is a small world after all.”
I was picked up for the baseball game at 4:15 by my second cousins and their four kids. They have been more than gracious toward me, and much to my delight invited me to use the spare ticket they had. Thank goodness, then, that I at least had Saturday night plans (okay, so I spent most of it with a children under the age of ten, some of whom thought we were watching hockey, but I had a great time nonetheless). And we enjoyed the works. Hot dogs loaded with toppings, $5.50 “fresh squeezed” lemonades, and ice cream for dessert. Yes, my stomach is not exactly agreeing with this evening’s dietary choices, but once in awhile I suppose one must splurge.
Toward the end of the night I was turned around in my seat people watching, which is what I do at all baseball games when there is a pause in events. Actually it is one of my favorite parts. I mean really, you get all sorts at a baseball game, which makes crowd scanning even more enjoyable. Of course there was the fifty-year old woman dressed and acting seventeen, the rich couple dressed in fancy pants and high heels, and the somewhat scary, partially balding, sno-cone/beer/cotton candy selling guy with such an abrasive and intrusive voice that you can’t help give him your attention, as well as half your wallet.
So there I was, scanning as usual, when all of the sudden my eyes focused on something strangely familiar. No way. Can’t be. I blink, refocus. Holy schmoley! A guy from college who was in the same club I joined a couple of years back was sitting five rows up. Here I am, in a completely different state, in the middle of a big city and BAM. Right there, someone I know, of course not “know” as in really, really well. He is more accurately described as an acquaintance, but still, a familiar face is worth a million dollars when you know less people than you can count on three fingers. He was just as shocked and excited as I was, and at first even a little dumbfounded. Couldn’t believe it. We caught up on each other’s whereabouts and will hopefully meet up sometime.
Although I knew it is true, the old saying never ceases to amaze me, “It is a small world after all.”
day two...
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Today it was time to test my wings with public transportation. I was never much one for wandering around aimlessly in this world. If I have a question, such as what aisle something is in a store, or where a certain place is located, for example, I pretty much ask the first person I see for assistance. Call it naïve, but I suppose I just expect the majority of people to at least be a little helpful, and usually I am right. Today was no exception. As soon as I got to the station I walked over to a woman standing alone, looking fairly approachable. She definitely was. And a talker too. Nancy was a lifesaver today. She taught me about what rides to take, what to avoid, schedules, all sorts of things. And by the end of our journey I also knew routes to take for good hiking, camping, and amazing views. I never got a chance to read the book I had planned, but she was more resourceful than most knowledge one could gain by reading. I am hoping to meet up with her in our future travels.
Following my practice run to the jobsite, I stopped by a coffee shop and enjoyed banana bread on the patio. My solo trip back home was successful too – thankfully. I then spent my two weeks wages on apartment supplies. So no worries. I now own a pasta spoon, light bulbs, a shelving unit, and a paper shredder, among a thousand other items. Should be set. Ha.
After all of my purchases were put in place (sort-of) I laid out in the sun. It felt strange to finally have my own pool, and not be trespassing on the neighboring apartment complex’s swimming hole. Oops. We never used to do that. Err… only got caught once.
My big Friday night plans consisted of cozy visit to Blockbuster. Three rentals for $9.99. Oh please, oh please, I need to make friends quick! I couldn’t wait to dive into my popcorn – as pathetic as it is, I had actually waited all day to relax with a bowl and watch a movie on my 8” big screen. And then I had a devastating realization. No microwave. How can an apartment have no microwave?! *#@&^$%!!!
A stay-in movie is just not the same with a cold bowl of cereal.
P.S. I found my first shortcut today. Yes, I was/am ecstatic.
Following my practice run to the jobsite, I stopped by a coffee shop and enjoyed banana bread on the patio. My solo trip back home was successful too – thankfully. I then spent my two weeks wages on apartment supplies. So no worries. I now own a pasta spoon, light bulbs, a shelving unit, and a paper shredder, among a thousand other items. Should be set. Ha.
After all of my purchases were put in place (sort-of) I laid out in the sun. It felt strange to finally have my own pool, and not be trespassing on the neighboring apartment complex’s swimming hole. Oops. We never used to do that. Err… only got caught once.
My big Friday night plans consisted of cozy visit to Blockbuster. Three rentals for $9.99. Oh please, oh please, I need to make friends quick! I couldn’t wait to dive into my popcorn – as pathetic as it is, I had actually waited all day to relax with a bowl and watch a movie on my 8” big screen. And then I had a devastating realization. No microwave. How can an apartment have no microwave?! *#@&^$%!!!
A stay-in movie is just not the same with a cold bowl of cereal.
P.S. I found my first shortcut today. Yes, I was/am ecstatic.
day one...
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It is always key to pack certain things when moving. Such as toilet paper. One roll is all you need, but obviously a crucial component to remember. I however did not. Which leads me to mistake number two. Trash bags. Do not forget those either. Kind of a pain as well. Other than that you are pretty much good to go.
on the road...
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I am moving. Tomorrow. AAAAAuuuuuuuugh! And in exactly four minutes I will be disabling my computer temporarily, which will be a trying time. I have no idea when my items will be delivered to my new home, so for a week or two I will be living with a 13" t.v., an air mattress and three folding chairs. That is honestly basically it. So bear with me as I give this relocating thing a try. It should get interesting.
see you again soon...
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My grandpa died two days ago. He battled stomach cancer for almost a year, and I am so proud of him. He is the first grandparent I have lost, so I suppose that makes me pretty lucky - I have had the chance to make many memories of him, grandma, and the farm. Of course I think my grandpa is amazing. First and foremost he has six daughters. Six! No boys. One bathroom. You do the math. School mornings could not have been pleasant around that house. Yikes. My mom is the oldest, so she had to do "boy" things like drive a tractor to help out. She said she only fell asleep at a few times. Oh, how his patience must have been tested raising all those girls with grandma.
There are a few things that come to mind most when thinking of grandpa. He loved, loved Pepsi. I remember bottles and bottles and cans packed into the fridge in the shop. But he never drank it straight from the can. He liked it ice cold, poured into a glass. Even as he got older and the doctors suggested cutting back on sugar, he stuck by Pepsi like a best friend. I remember making him a glass, with added water (at his request) to weaken it a little. Man, that was dedication.
The other thing I remember, and will miss the most was his jokes, and the way he laughed at a good story. Grandpa always had a blonde joke for me and the other blonde grandkids. He delivered mail up until the cancer set-in (talk about a hard worker) and the people along his route always passed on the good jokes to him. He would tell it to all of our eager ears, and I never heard the same one twice. My uncles always had jokes for him too, that he could pass along. And when he got tickled he would laugh out loud, with his hand on his over his eyes, and shaking his head back in forth. That's when you know you told a good one. I know I will miss that.
Some of the favorite childhood memories I have are out on the farm. All of his girls grew up and had babies, leaving nineteen grandchildren for grandpa and grandma to spoil. And did they ever. Maybe not the way some grandparents do, with lavish gifts and such, but I thought it was even better than that. Every summer we got to go on a week visit with three or four other cousins. We played in the tree rows for hours upon hours. Built forts, booby traps, hideaways, and escape paths. That farm was a little piece of heaven for our make-believe days. Of course grandpa did not appreciate us using the tree-clippers to chop down branches that were in our way, or to clear a bigger path for our crazy imaginations, but he forgave us. Eventually.
At night we would settle in for movies with the lights off, all cozied up on blankets and draped over couches, anywhere you could find a seat. Then grandma would bring out a big bowl of ice cream or Doritos or popcorn, and grandpa would cut apple "O's" for us to munch on during the show. I don't think I ever really enjoyed the movies we watched, but that never seemed to matter, because we were all so content sitting together.
We, the older ones, continued those farm trips clear up to high school. The little ones still visit. I hope they have as much fun as we always did. And got into as much trouble. There are so many stories I would love to share about him and the time on the farm. I think of them and can't help grinning. I will remember them forever. We all will.
I know grandpa was ready to go. He wasn't used to being trapped to a bed when there was work to be done. And although I will miss him terribly, we all will, I am so happy he no longer has to work or worry, about how to make ends meet, or if the crops were going to get hailed out again this year. I hope he knows how much he is loved. And that he will never be forgotten.
I love you grandpa.
There are a few things that come to mind most when thinking of grandpa. He loved, loved Pepsi. I remember bottles and bottles and cans packed into the fridge in the shop. But he never drank it straight from the can. He liked it ice cold, poured into a glass. Even as he got older and the doctors suggested cutting back on sugar, he stuck by Pepsi like a best friend. I remember making him a glass, with added water (at his request) to weaken it a little. Man, that was dedication.
The other thing I remember, and will miss the most was his jokes, and the way he laughed at a good story. Grandpa always had a blonde joke for me and the other blonde grandkids. He delivered mail up until the cancer set-in (talk about a hard worker) and the people along his route always passed on the good jokes to him. He would tell it to all of our eager ears, and I never heard the same one twice. My uncles always had jokes for him too, that he could pass along. And when he got tickled he would laugh out loud, with his hand on his over his eyes, and shaking his head back in forth. That's when you know you told a good one. I know I will miss that.
Some of the favorite childhood memories I have are out on the farm. All of his girls grew up and had babies, leaving nineteen grandchildren for grandpa and grandma to spoil. And did they ever. Maybe not the way some grandparents do, with lavish gifts and such, but I thought it was even better than that. Every summer we got to go on a week visit with three or four other cousins. We played in the tree rows for hours upon hours. Built forts, booby traps, hideaways, and escape paths. That farm was a little piece of heaven for our make-believe days. Of course grandpa did not appreciate us using the tree-clippers to chop down branches that were in our way, or to clear a bigger path for our crazy imaginations, but he forgave us. Eventually.
At night we would settle in for movies with the lights off, all cozied up on blankets and draped over couches, anywhere you could find a seat. Then grandma would bring out a big bowl of ice cream or Doritos or popcorn, and grandpa would cut apple "O's" for us to munch on during the show. I don't think I ever really enjoyed the movies we watched, but that never seemed to matter, because we were all so content sitting together.
We, the older ones, continued those farm trips clear up to high school. The little ones still visit. I hope they have as much fun as we always did. And got into as much trouble. There are so many stories I would love to share about him and the time on the farm. I think of them and can't help grinning. I will remember them forever. We all will.
I know grandpa was ready to go. He wasn't used to being trapped to a bed when there was work to be done. And although I will miss him terribly, we all will, I am so happy he no longer has to work or worry, about how to make ends meet, or if the crops were going to get hailed out again this year. I hope he knows how much he is loved. And that he will never be forgotten.
I love you grandpa.
ka-BOOM...
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We celebrated the Fourth of July at Clint's hometown. It's small town living at its finest, and I love visiting - not to mention his parents spoil us like crazy. I happen to be a huge fan of the red, white, and blue holiday. Of course I enjoy the huge displays and fancy shows, but most of all I can't ever hardly wait to light them myself. Call me a kid but going through the rinky-dink fireworks stand and picking out my favorites to shoot off later makes me pretty darn excited. At first I thought this was probably because it's one of the few times I feel really young again, but then I remembered I also continue to hunt for Easter eggs, dress up on Halloween, wake up early for Santa's deliveries on Christmas Day, umm... so I'm a kid at heart. There are very fond memories of my dad, brother and I spending an hour finding the best bargains we could come up with. Roman candles, saturn missiles, parachute men, worms, and smoke bombs frequently found their way into our shopping bag. Oh what we do for entertainment. Of course Clint easily got into the 4th spirit as well - we went to the fireworks stand with all the cash we had and happily returned home with $10 worth of goodies. As you can tell by the photo - I'm pretty darn happy to show off our purchases...
In our family we always seem to purchase a dud. Of course most people typically experience dud fireworks, but ours are consistently the ones we have the most expectations for. A huge firing army tank, spitting turtle, speeding sports car, you know the type. We have our hopes up for a great finale, only to be let down by a sputtering flame of disappointment. Well this year Clint's keen eye caught our future dud. It was in the shape and resemblance of a Budweiser bottle, and we just had to have it, failure or not (which I knew it would be). After all of our other fireworks had been lit and extinguished, and our show nearing its end, Clint proudly brought out the beer bottle, hoping for the best. Amazingly enough, it turned out to be the best one we had - a crazy sparkling fountain - at least his mom oohed and ahhed for us, and that may just be what I needed to change my mind about those darn flashy duds. 
The next day we lounged around, the boys played golf, his mom and I grabbed a cappucino and chatted, etc. - just general relaxation. It was pretty muggy outside but we needed a break from the indoors, so Clint and his dad rigged up a very interesting version of Polish horseshoes. Although it is generally used as a college drinking game, we knew his parents would have a good time learning - and that we did. Three games later we were worn out and ready to head back in. I am embarrassed to say I was the biggest loser that day - the only one who lost every single game. Humbug. Must have just been bad luck :)
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