doahleigh - Holy Waste of Teabags!

Last month Brad helped me discover a new website for avid readers. If you like to read but hating spending a lot of money on books, you might appreciate this. If you don’t like to read but enjoy watching movies (and again don’t like spending a lot on DVDs), you might also appreicate this. If you don’t read and don’t care much for movies, then feel free to, I don’t know, check your myspace or something.

It’s called PaperBackSwap, and it’s basically a way to get free very cheap books. Here’s what you do:

1. Sign up for an account.

2. Go rummage through your bookshelves and closets and such and dig up any books you’re willing to part with.

3. Enter all the books into your account (it’s simple - they walk you through it).

4. If you enter 10 books right away, you get two free credits.

5. Think of some books you’ve been wanting to read, but haven’t wanted to spend $12-30 on.

6. Search for those books on the website.

7. Order those books.

8. A couple weeks later, the books come in the mail. FREE!

Now it’s not totally free, don’t be deceived. Whenever someone decides they want one of your books, you have to ship it to them. On your dime. But you get to pay media mail prices, so it’s about $2.50. And every time you send a book, you get a credit to order another one for yourself. Basically you’re paying about $2.50 for each book, which is better than almost any used book store. Plus, less work! Shipping books is easy too. When you get ready to send it out, PBS gives you a label to print. You wrap the book in the sheet of paper, add postage and send it off. If you use stamps or if you pay a small fee for PBS to add postage, you can just drop it in the mailbox. Otherwise you have to go to the post office. Which, yuck. I used stamps.

When your book is received, the receiver has to let PBS know, and then you get your credit. Ta-da! Just like that. It really does work.

If you do decide to sign up, let me know and I’ll give you my email address so you can list me as your referrer. That way I get free credits. Yes, I’m greedy. But I’m using a different email address than the one listed on my contact page, so if you just want to sign up and not list a referrer, I totally don’t blame you.

I’ll just hate you forever.

No I won’t.

Now go swap some paperbacks already!

I was sitting in the car, on the phone with my dad. It was a nice day so I rolled down the windows and talked to him in the parking lot rather than try to fight traffic while chatting. The sun was bright, so I put the visor down to block it. The mirror on the visor was open so I was staring at myself while we talked. I was studying my complexion, noting the errant hairs near my eyebrows, counting the freckles that always show up on my nose in the summer. I was looking at my teeth, inspecting their cleanliness, when I noticed them. Wrinkles. Smile lines. Little creases between my nose and the corners of my mouth. Hardly noticeable, but there nonetheless.

I don’t so much mind having smile lines if that is in fact what they are. I hope it means I’ve done a lot of smiling. But I was kind of hoping the wrinkles would hold off until my 30s at least. I think what freaks me out the most is that wrinkles are permanent. I have problems with permanent.

I’ve been putting off getting my Z tattoo because I can’t decide where I want to permanently ink myself. The idea of settling in and living or working in one place “for life” makes me squirmy. I don’t even like to use permanent marker!

A wrinkle isn’t like a zit that will eventually go away. It’s not a bruise that eventually fades or a cut that eventually heals. It’s not a bad haircut that will grow out or a rash that will clear up. It’s there. Forever. That wrinkle next to my nose will be there tomorrow and next month and next year. It will be there when I’m 30 and 40 and 50 and 80. That very same wrinkle. There will be others as time goes on of course, but that wrinkle that I discovered while sitting in my car, talking on the phone, that same one will be there forever. When I’m an old lady I’ll look at the wrinkle – it will be much larger and deeper then – and remember when it first showed up, back in my 20s.

I promised myself that I would try to embrace aging as it comes, but the idea of being unable to do anything about those two little wrinkles, except watch them get more prominent, kind of makes me uncomfortable. Maybe I should name them, maybe then I’d think of them as friends who I’d like to see stick around. I can greet them in the morning and be proud as I watch them progress. Maybe I could even teach them tricks.

So what’s a good name for a wrinkle?

Help me solve a mystery. So far, this is what we know:

• I put my beach towel on top of my bag while packing for my weekend trip.

• The beach towel was on top of the bag when I carried it from my apartment to my car on Friday afternoon.

• The beach towel was no longer on top of the bag when I carried the bag from the car to the cabin Friday evening.

• The bag did not leave the back seat of my car on the ride from the apartment to the cabin.

• Family members and friends do not remember seeing the beach towel.

• The beach towel was never found on the cabin premises.

• The beach towel was also not found at the apartment.

• The beach towel was also not found at my mom’s house where I stopped on the way.

Where is the beach towel?

It is truly a mystery to me. At first I figured it would turn up eventually, but by the time we were leaving to tube down the river, I was severely aggravated by its mysterious absence. There was swearing. And yelling. But seriously. WHERE THE HELL IS MY DAMN BEACH TOWEL?

It was basically brand new, only used a couple times. It was a gift and it was the only one I had. I’m too stubborn and cheap to go buy a new one because I know my beach towel is out there somewhere in the world, and paying money for another one just hurts my heart too much.

Any idea where it could be? Is there something I’m missing, something I’m not thinking of? Did Bill and Ted travel to 2008, steal my beach towel and bring it back to 1989? Did our housekeeping ghost decide it needed to be laundered before I used it? Maybe I should check the dryer…

This weekend my family and I went up to a little cabin in the woods. It was actually my sisters, their boyfriends, some of their friends, me and my mom (Brad was busy and missed out). It was a tiny little cabin with no electricity or running water, but we spent most of our time around the campfire anyway. Friday night I didn’t get any sleep because half of the group stayed up until past 5am, keeping me unwillingly awake with them. Mom and I ended up leaving Saturday night because I had to get some sleep and I knew it wouldn’t happen if we stayed there again.

None of that is the point of this story though. The point is that on Saturday we rented some tubes to float a river for a few hours. I was so excited because it had been years since I did that, but now, on the other side of that trip, I can safely say that I’ll probably never want to go again. It wasn’t horrible, but it was probably the least relaxing thing I’ve ever done. I had visions of chilling in a tube, drinking a beer while the current quietly carried me down the river.

Not at all what happened.

Misadventure #1
We created two “pods” of tubes so we could stick together. Pod 1 – my pod – consisted of two double-seater tubes, five single tubes, eight people and one fully stocked cooler tied together with rope. We were large and quite unmanageable. It’s impossible to steer something like that, so we were basically never where we wanted to be. Always hung up on a fallen log, stuck in a bank, floating over large rocks or under overhanging trees. And those overhanging trees? FULL. OF. SPIDERS. When I went canoeing a couple years ago on the same river, I had a traumatic encounter with a spider tree, which I had kind of forgotten about until I was back on the river. And then it was too late. I spent the whole trip desperately trying to avoid these trees, and at one point I dove out of my tube and on top of my sister’s boyfriend’s six-year-old daughter to dodge a particularly spidery one. Seriously not relaxing.

Misadventure #2
About half an hour into the trip I saw a little animal swim across the river a hundred yards ahead of us. Aww, cute little animal. A few minutes later Pod 2 yelled back at us to watch out for the woodchuck – apparently they can be aggressive. We made our way to where the woodchuck was spotted and we lifted our feet just in case, but we weren’t really worried. Until suddenly the motherfucking woodchuck surfaced less than two feet from us. Without a bit of exaggeration I can say that the big furry beast was just out of arm’s reach from me when it surfaced and then dove back under. I saw every hair on its broad back. I may have made eye contact. Not so much a cute little animal by the way. This thing was as big as my sister’s yellow lab. It would have been fine if we could have just floated right past it, but instead we were stuck behind a fallen log. Try as we might, we could not get past the log without sticking our legs in the water, which none of us were willing to do with a giant killer woodchuck swimming below us.

While the rest of us tried to keep our limbs and asses from touching the water, my sister Emily was finally brave enough to jump in and pull us around the log. But then she lost her hat, so my sister Kelli had to jump in to save the hat while Emily saved us. Thankfully nobody was mauled by what one of the guys described as “a fucking bear in the water.”

Misadventure #3
But none of this is even the worst part of the trip. All day the weather was gorgeous, and even though we knew there was a small chance of rain, we weren’t concerned. A little sprinkle wouldn’t hurt. When we saw the storm cloud and heard it rumbling though, we knew we were going to get hit with a little more than rain. The guys at the rafting company told us to go left at the fork in the river and our exit was at the first road overpass after that. The first raindrops fell just as we came to the fork, so we figured we’d be out of the river before it got bad. But then it started down pouring, the kind of driving rain that stings your skin. It was so cold that we were all shivering violently.

And then it started to hail. Yes hail. Marble-sized chunks of ice pelted our bodies. So now it’s raining, it’s hailing, it’s freezing cold and the wind picks up. We have no idea how much farther we have to go and the little girl is scared to death. Andrea held onto her while her dad did his best to shield her with his body. Then we see lightening. We’re in the water and there is lightening striking nearby. The river is warmer than the air (what with the HAIL and all!), so it’s a choice between getting in the water with lightening nearby or staying above the water where it’s bitter cold.

About half an hour after the whole thing started, we finally see the bridge. As soon as we get out of the water, the rain lets up, but then it’s a quarter mile hike down a muddy path in bare feet, carrying heavy tubes and coolers. After the rain it was gorgeous and warm, so we spent the ride back to the cabin baking in the sun, which was magnificent. In the end, nobody got hurt so it really wasn’t that bad. But in the middle of the chaos, I looked at my sister and said, “This is what we’re doing right now. This is our life at this moment – floating down a river while it’s raining and hailing and lightening. How did this happen?” But at the same time I kept thinking that soon it would all be over and we’d have a great story to tell.

Edited to add: After some research, I determined that the woodchuck may have in fact been a beaver. This is no less discomforting.

One time Brad and I talked about which identifying marks we’d use if ever we had to identify each other at the morgue. Like if our faces had been eaten off and we had to rely on birthmarks or scars to recognize each other. I can’t remember what we decided for Brad (so hon, don’t die and get your face eaten off until we’ve talked about this again), but I do remember mine. It’s pretty obvious: my freckle patch.

Maybe you’ve noticed it in pictures before and wondered, what the hell is on her arm? I get that all the time. Especially after a long winter when I start wearing short sleeves again. Suddenly there’s this splotch on my arm that has been hidden for months, and everyone’s curious. You know that look you get when you’ve got something in your teeth? People try to look you in the eye, but they keep glancing down? They think they’re being subtle, but the eye shift is pretty obvious every time they sneak a peek at your mouth? Well that’s what I get, only they’re looking at my arm.

Here, you can see it in this picture:

Did you catch that? Here it is a little closer (ignore the fat rolls and chubby arm please, focus on the freckles):

There’s no explanation for the freckle patch, it’s just, well, a patch of freckles. I have random freckles scattered all over my body, as do all my sisters (thanks for that Dad), but it’s as if all the freckles on my right arm forgot to spread out. They were born, and then they were supposed to migrate, but nobody told them, so they stay there huddled together.

I’ve tried to count the freckles many times, and so have lots of other people – I think it’s somewhere around 30, but everyone comes up with something different. Depends if you count certain splotches as one or two, and if you count the really tiny ones that look like pin pricks. At first, most people think it’s a faded temporary tattoo. Others say it looks like henna. My dad thinks it’s funny to lick his thumb and pretend to try to wipe away the “dirt” on my arm. He does this nearly every time I see him and has been since I was little. It’s one of my favorite ongoing jokes.

I’ve tried to get certain other people to have the exact same splotch tattooed on the same place of their arm, kind of like a “friendship” tattoo, but so far nobody’s going for it. Brad said if we ever get married, he might consider it, which is really saying something since he’s sooo not a tattoo guy. It’s not as crazy as having my name tattooed across his shoulder blades (hello Mr. Mariah Carey), but I think it’d be a true sign of commitment. Because otherwise how do you explain why you tattooed a freckle patch on your arm?

Most people won’t ask me about it. They not-so-subtly check it out while talking to me, but don’t dare to inquire. I don’t say anything about it either, even though it’s obvious they’re looking, but if someone asks me, I’m always happy to talk about my freckle patch. I think it’s really cool and unique – it’s one of my favorite distinguishing marks. And it’s definitely a really good way to identify me if I ever end up faceless in a morgue.

(Except, what if my face and my right arm are eaten off? Then what? Then you look at the fourth toe on my right foot. But I’ll have to tell you about that one later…)

About six weeks ago I wrote about a scary syllabus I had gotten for my first session summer class. I was dreading that course, dreading the work, dreading the many hours of sitting in a windowless classroom on warm summer evenings. But many of you said that I might actually end up enjoying this class.

Well smarties, you were right. So far, it’s the best class I’ve taken in the program. The professor had high expectations of us, but it’s because he truly wanted us to learn. And I did! I was really interested and engaged in the material, the discussions were interesting, and my classmates were fun.

Tuesday was the last class and the majority of us went out for a drink afterward, along with the professor. It was a really good group and I’m a little sad it’s over. Actually no, I am really glad it’s over because I’m one step closer to my degree, but I kind of wish I had taken this class during a full semester and taken one of the crappier classes for only six weeks.

I start my second session course next week. I haven’t seen the syllabus yet, but I hope it’s not as intense. Yeah I know, I just said I learned a lot from an intense course, but I’m tired and I really do want to enjoy my summer. Fortunately about half the students from the first class are taking the second one with me. I’m counting on them to get me through it!

I wrote about my mom on Mother’s Day, and since my dad is pretty amazing as well, you should know about him too. He’s a little bit Forrest Gump, a little Chandler Bing, a little Steve Martin, and there’s this other part of him that can’t be described by naming a celebrity or pop culture character.

He’s simple, he’s humble, he’s adventurous and he’s hilarious.

His whole life he wanted nothing more than to be a mountain man. He moved to Montana right after high school, but came back to Michigan when he found out my mom got pregnant during one of his holiday visits home. At age 20 he married her and by age 28 he had fathered five kids. He left my mom soon after that, and while that part of life was hard for all of us, I don’t doubt that he never stopped loving us. If we weren’t number one in his life, he would have moved back to Montana a long time ago.

For a long time he vowed to go to my youngest sister’s high school graduation with a truck full of gear because he was driving west right after the ceremony. Instead, he had his sixth child about five years before that graduation, and now he’s married with two kids under the age of ten.

He’s got five daughters and two sons, he’s worked at the same place for almost 30 years, he drives a pickup truck with crank windows and a stereo that doesn’t even have a cassette-player (by choice). He is not a typical dad—you can’t get away with buying him a grill or golf balls or sports paraphernalia or a tie. Actually you can’t get away with buying him much because he doesn’t like a lot of attention or gifts. Though he does hold on to every damn thing that crosses his path. Anything you need, he’s got three in his garage.

My dad insists on humor in our family, he is welcoming to anyone we bring home, he’s not afraid to make a fool of himself (actually he does it on purpose quite often), and he is a very deep intellectual, always observing and questioning what’s around him. That is something I have learned from him and hope to pass on to my kids someday.

Happy Father’s Day Dad!

So tell me, what the hell does this mean: I’m sitting at my desk at work today and somebody hands me a copy of The Power of Positive Thinking.

If you haven’t been keeping track, I started reading that book on Sunday. Then yesterday I officially gave up on it because it was frustrating and basically unhelpful to me. And then today it shows up on my desk again.

Now the logistics of the thing really aren’t that odd, don’t let me fool you. I work for a library and even though I don’t work in an actual library branch, we get this special service where you simply select a book you want in the online catalog and a couple days later, voila! it shows up on your desk. Plus no late fees, so for a book lover, it’s a big perk of the job. I put practically no effort into getting books these days. I think what happened is I accidentally ordered the same book twice: the first one got to me at the end of last week, the second one took a little longer to travel here.

But you have to admit it’s a little weird that I publicly denounced this book, and the very next day it shows up again. What does that mean? Should I just walk over and return the book again, or should I interpret this as a sign that there really is a gem in there that I need to discover?

It might be a little bit like torture trying to read through the book in search of this gem, but I’m going to choose to take this as a sign and at least hold on to the book for awhile. Maybe I’ll pick it up someday when I’m bored, flip to a random page, skim a few paragraphs and stumble upon something that’s not totally gag-worthy. Maybe it will even be inspiring.

Probably not, but hey, think positive right?

God I can’t believe I’ve dedicated three fucking blog posts to this damn book now!

When I was a kid, one of my favorite icons was Strawberry Shortcake. She went away for awhile as I got older, but I was thrilled when she started getting popular again. I like that my niece and my seven year old sister know about my old pal. I’d rather have them covet Strawberry Shortcake merchandise than that god awful Bratz crap. Strawberry is an icon from my childhood, so I was sad to read that they’re updating her look. Lately she’s been seen in jeans and doo rags, but apparently she’s getting an even more modern look. She’s getting rid of Custard the cat and replacing the kitty with a cellphone and a flat iron.

Can’t anything ever just stay the same?

I really did try to give this book a chance, but it’s just not for me. I can’t relate to any of the anecdotes, nothing resonates with me and I can’t take the advice seriously. I really wanted to finish it though. It felt wrong to pick up a book about being more positive just to criticize and discard it. I thought if I just kept reading, surely I could take something away from it.

And don’t get me wrong, it’s not all bullshit. It did get me thinking about thinking more positively, but the way it’s written has really turned me off. Even Brad has told me to give up and look for something else because I think I scowl when I’m reading it. Yet I was still determined to plow through, determined that I was going to learn from this book damn it. Somewhere in here there’s a gem that’s going to change my life!

But I was in the middle of chapter five (of seventeen) last night when I had to give up. Here’s the passage that made me quit:

“Ma’am, if you don’t mind my saying so, that is a mighty pretty hat* you are wearing.”
She looked up at him and said, “Thank you.”
“And I might add,” he said, “that sure is a pretty dress you have on. I like it so much.”
Being a woman, this appealed to her, and despite the fact that she was not feeling well, she brightened up and asked, “Why in the world did you say those nice things to me? It is very thoughtful of you.”
“Well,” he said, “I saw how unhappy you were. I saw that you were crying, and I just asked the Lord how I could help you. The Lord said, ‘Speak to her about her hat.’ The mention of the dress,” he added, “was my own idea.” Ralston Young and the Lord together knew how to get a woman’s mind off her troubles. [emphasis mine]

Oh really? Just compliment a woman on her clothes and all her troubles leave her mind? This woman later admits she is in constant pain, which is why she looked down and in need of help when Ralston met her. Years and years of constant pain, but Ralston and the Lord knew that all you gotta do is tell a woman she looks pretty and TA-DA! her mind is clear of troubles. Why don’t we just go around complimenting women on their outfits all day and nobody (at least the women) will feel sad again. Just one compliment after another. Nice hat! Nice dress! Nice shoes! Nice purse! Nice belt! Nice earrings! Nice jacket! Oh look I’m so distracted with fashion compliments, which appeal to me so much because I’m a woman, obviously, that I completely forgot I have no job, two broken arms, a chronic disease and my family has abandoned me.

If the above passage was an isolated ocurrence I wouldn’t be so bothered, but the majority of the author’s examples are about men, and the few women are people I have nothing in common with. I’m not in dire straits, I’m not at the end of my rope, none of those clichés. I just want to learn to have a better outlook. Like I said, this book wasn’t written for me. I can see how a lot of people would get good things from it, but I’m ready to give up and find something better for me.

Any recommendations?

*When I was reading over this before publishing, I realized I had written ‘hate’ instead of ‘hat.’ Coincidence? I think not.

What do you know, I was right all along. Tomatoes are the enemy.

At least for awhile I don’t have to worry that when I ask for no tomato I’ll be completely ignored. Is it bad that I kind of hope they never solve the tomato salmonella problem?

We had some severe weather around here over the weekend, and it reminded me just how differently Brad and I react to a stormy forecast.

My reaction to the news: Oh cool, I love storms.

Brad’s reaction: Cool? This could turn into tornados. Haven’t you seen all the news about the tornados around the country? You think it’s just going to be a little storm, but I’m worried about the roof blowing off our building!

My preparations for the storm: place a candle and some matches nearby, just in case.

Brad’s preparations: charge the flashlight, unplug the laptop, tune into the Weather Channel, pull up the local weather on the Blackberry, find a portable radio that will pick up local news in case the power goes out, close and lock all the windows, lock himself and provisions in the bathroom (okay not really).

My activities during the storm: write a paper, do a little light reading, get bored with the Weather Channel.

Brad’s activities: flip back and forth between the Weather Channel and the local news coverage, repeatedly check the weather on the Blackberry, wind the self-charing flashlight a couple more times, pace to the window regularly to watch the lightning, attempt to photograph the lightning, make sure the portable radio is working, advise girlfriend to get off the computer because surge protectors are not to be trusted, live-blog the storm from the Blackberry.

I love him for it though. I can’t join him in this kind of reaction to the weather, but I told him that someday his paranoia will probably save my life. I’ll be all, There’s cows flying through the air? I’m sure it’s fine, let’s order a pizza! And he’ll be shoving me into a basement with blankets and enough food and water to survive a week.

Also, the weather people on the local news announced that one of the stoplights in my small hometown was out. Wait no, I mean the stoplight in my small hometown was out. There’s one single stoplight there and the damn thing stopped working. I can only imagine the chaos. I bet there were multiple tractor/pick-up truck collisions at that intersection before they got it fixed.

Brad tells me I’m too negative. What he calls pessimism I call realism, which is my typical response to his usual reminder to think positive. Finally after more than three years of this, I decided to heed his advice and try to learn to be more positive. I didn’t know where else to start, so I checked out The Power of Positive Thinking from the library last week.

I started the book tonight, and after reading about two pages, which included things like “Believe in yourself!” and “Christ which strengtheneth me,” I turned to Brad and said, “I really don’t think I’m going to like this book.”

I’m not off to a very good start with this…

Believe it or not, I do manage make a little time for the tv in between the work and the school. Sadly, none of what I watch is even remotely educational or good for the brain. It’s kind of embarrassing really, but I’m gonna tell it anyway. Because I like tv and I don’t care what you think. So here’s what I’ve been watching:

Monday nights: Gossip Girl
I never had even the smallest interest in this show—I even scoffed at friends’ suggestions to check it out. But somehow I ended up seeing the final two episodes of season one and I as intrigued. Well lo and behold, they’re replaying the whole season this summer, and I’ve been tuning in. I actually kind of hate the show because come on. Ridiculous. But it’s a loving kind of hatred. And also I really want to see how we get from where all the characters are now to where I saw them in the finale. Fill in the blanks!

Tuesday nights: A Shot at Love 2 with Tila Tequila
Yeah yeah, shut up. I watched the last half of the first time she “fell in love” so why not watch her do it again? In case you too are watching, here is my take on the final four:
Bo: I see how he’s trying really hard and all that, but he strikes me as the kind of guy who would try hard for anyone in that situation. I don’t think he has any strong feelings for Tila in particular, he just likes to be romantic. Please don’t pick Bo.
Jay: I will never understand what she sees in guys like this. He is one of the last people I would want to be near, let alone hang out with, let alone date! Please don’t pick Jay.
Brittany: She’s cute, but Brittany and Tila together remind me of two girls at a party who get drunk and think it’d be fun to hook up. They don’t really go together, but making out is fun. You can pick Brittany, but we all know it won’t last.
Kristy: I didn’t see it coming, but of the remaining four, I think Tila has the most chemistry with Kristy. It’s actually believable when they’re together. Maybe it’s not love, but they could date for awhile. Go ahead, pick Kristy.

Wednesday nights: Real World XX: Hollywood
But you already knew that… I will add though that Sarah has redeemed herself ever so slightly because she is the ONLY one who gave a damn about Joey when he came back from rehab.

After this month I will no longer have extended cable, so I’ll be saying goodbye to most of my tv watching. Hopefully we can wait until Tila and RW are done, then Gossip Girl will just have to get me through the summer.

Anything else I should be watching this summer?

Stole this idea from Schmutzie.

The concept:
1. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
2. Using only the first page of results, pick one image.
3. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into Big Huge Lab’s Mosaic Maker to create a mosaic of the picture answers.

The questions:
1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food? right now?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. What is your favourite drink?
7. What is your dream vacation?
8. What is your favourite dessert?
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. What is one word that describes you?
12. What is your flickr name?