Solve for Y

I went to the pool a few nights ago. One of the pool rules is, "No unattended solo bathing permitted."
I don't know if that's a nice way of saying "No skinny dipping" or if I'm not supposed to be there by myself.
If it's the latter, I think it'd be funny if some moron caught me and said something moronic like, "You're not supposed to be swimming alone." Because then I could narrow my eyes and say, "Well, I'm not swimming alone now since you're here, right?"

ZING

I love when there's no one at the pool, though. It's been especially delightful now that all the children have homework to do at night. It gives me freedom to play with the toy boats that they leave behind.

Mike: Is there such thing as drinking too much water?
Me: Yeah, it's called drowning.

Cats are mysterious creatures.

You know how they ask to go outside, and then you let them outside. Then they want to come back inside, then they want to go back outside, but when you open the door they kind of look out as if wondering, "Do I really want to go out there? Didn't I come in last time? Why do I want to be out here?"
So then you kick them outside, and then they want to come inside, but when you open the door they kind of look in as if wondering, "Do I really want to go in? Didn't I go out last time? Why do I want to be in there?"

It's a maddening cycle for any cat owner.

But yesterday, it was nice enough to open the windows. Sam watched in awe from outside while I did this. Then he started sticking his claws in the screen like a bad kitty, so I went outside to bring him in. As soon as I come out of the house, he runs as fast as he can to the back edge of the fence like he's got somewhere to be. I catch up with him, and he tears around to the basil patch. Then to the hot tub. Then finally, his big butt gets tired, and I bring him in.

I just think he got so excited about open windows. And I think he likes weird things like being chased and smacked on the head.
Mike and I were talking about this last night. Almost every day, Sam will stretch and reach his big claws on the corner of the bed and start scratching. I will reach down and smack him with my hand, a pillow, book, curling iron, etc. Then he runs away. It's like he forgets every day that it's a bad thing. And he has to relearn this every day.
But it doesn't make sense that he can't learn not to do it. It's not like the bed is changing every day, so he must enjoy getting the bejeezus smacked out of his skull.

Or maybe he has no neurons and just goes through one, painless life like the big hunk of fur that he is. Maybe I should try psychological manipulation.

"You don't want to scratch the bed..."

Just kidding about the curling iron, though.

I walk in my neighborhood about the same time each day. I think it kind of makes people think they're in a Truman Show situation.

For example, there's this guy near the cul de sac who is always putting stuff in his truck like he's going to the gym, but he smells nice like he just showered. I don't understand why you would go to the gym after taking a shower.
And then there's the people who are always on their front porch when it's really miserable outside. But then when it's nice outside, like yesterday, they weren't there. There's also like 40 people that live in that house.
There's a rotund dog owner that walk his rotund dog.

Mike and I talk about doing neighborhood shenanigans. It's something I would never do, but it's fun to imagine.
For example, we walked by this car one time. No one was around, and the trunk was open which revealed a big ol' bag of red mulch. We could've started some neighbor wars by taking that bag and putting it all around the house beside the owner's.
And there are always bikes and things strewn on people's driveways. Like, what if we just moved it one driveway over? People would think they're losing their minds.

It's like Woodstock, but with a greater emphasis on vans,
TWS

Decadence

Ten years is a long time.

Where was I ten years ago?

I was thirteen. Middle School. Just started 8th grade.

Madly in love with Pirates of the Caribbean. (Still am.)

Just started playing guitar. 

I had just started this blog, too, I think. 

It was really ridiculous back then. I'll go back and read it occasionally for the lols/cringes. 

Sometimes I really wish I could reach through the space time continuum and give my 15 year old self a punch in the face.

Because, my goodness, I really needed one back then.

Where will I be ten years from now?

I'll be thirty three, which, surprisingly doesn't really seem all that old.

Working part-time, and maybe for myself muahahaa.

Married and raising a family...of kittens!

Hopefully closer to home? I miss having, like, friends.

I'll have really long and pretty hair. Or, maybe, really short pretty hair. Michael likes short hair. But I feel like everyone gets shorter hair when they're in their late 20s/30s, and then they keep this cut well into their 80s. 

I mean, seriously- go into any nursing home. You will not find any old ladies with hair below their shoulders.

In ten years, I should be fluent in German.

I watched Schlussmacher last night. It was like the opposite of Hitch and in German.

And, oh my goodness, his girlfriend sewed and was really pretty. (And so was he.)

It's hard to envision the future, though, because so much can happen in ten years.

I got a text from an unknown number that said, "The oddsmakers have made a huge mistake in the TEXAS A&M/SOUTH CAROLINA game. They have no idea what they are doing. They totally blew it. This is by far the strongest opening day game we have ever seen. Simply reply STRONG and we'll text you this guaranteed winner absolutely free. Reply STRONG."

So, naturally, I replied, "You're an idiot."

A long time ago, left my home for a job in the fruit trees,

TWS

One More Dollar; The Wailin' Jennys

Teaser

Let's be real.
5th grade social studies was pretty fun.
Elementary school was pretty fun altogether, but I liked Mrs. Thomas' 5th grade social studies class.

Then in middle school, history class got progressively worse. I don't even know what sixth grade was about. 7th grade we "learned" what Islam was and about the Taj Mahal, and then 8th grade culminated in the dreaded Georgia History Class.

However, without that class, I wouldn't know what an atlatl is.
Very valuable learnage that was.

Then in high school, it got even worse.
There was Coach Connor: "Gorbachev looked like someone pooped on his head."
And AP US History where we had to read A Miracle at Philadelphia Terribly Boring Book. Over the summer.

And then in college, history class was insufferable, with Steinberg's impossible multiple questions that were all like:

Is this a question?
a. most likely
b. probably
c. yes, but with exceptions
d. sometimes
e. none of the above and you probably don't want to pick this one again since the last four questions were this answer

Anyone who's had Steinberg knows what I mean.

Finally after that class, history was, well, history. I was never required to learn about it again.
There was no stupid "History of accounting" because, I guess, accounting's boring enough as it is.
Hardy har har I can laff at my career now

But something is different now.
Now that I'm not forced to learn it or regurgitate it on some test, learning history is actually fun again like it was in 5th grade.

Leverage says you. I feel a change in the wind says I.

I've been learning about church history and reading Joshua and looking at the archaeological and culture stuff surrounding it, and it's interesting in a way that has never been interesting to me before.

Like- do I like history now? Is that okay? Is it okay to like history?
Is it okay to want to know what happened in the past because it has direct implications and symbolism on other stuff?

Something that I had previously dismissed as boring and irrelevant has become increasingly not so.
And I think archetypes are pretty cool.

Read Joshua.

Mark doesn't even need lipstick to make his teeth look white; they just are,
TWS

Cornmeal

Yesterday, I felt ALIVE.

I was sitting on my couch after dinner thinking, Man. I am so tired. But Michael is broken so I have to go walking by myself.

I don't know what degree to which Michael would appreciate me sharing the following information, but he doesn't read this blog anymore, so it really doesn't matter.

The company that Michael works for has instituted this new health initiative. The goal is that it keeps employees healthy, so they go to the doctors less, and the company ends up paying less in insurance premiums each year. They have "stretching time" every day at like 10 am where everyone stands up and spends a few minutes stretching to improve flexibility.

It's been a personal goal of Mike's to be able to touch his toes. He's only done it a few times, but it's a pretty huge deal to him. His leg started hurting him a few days ago, and then it went away. Then yesterday, he bends down to stretch and something went horribly, horribly wrong.

All I heard from him after that was how bad it hurt, how he could barely walk, etc. He came home and looked at the back of his leg, and there was a big, purple disease-like bruise about 5 inches by 3 inches above his knee.

Yeah. He tore something.

Then began the ice-pack making, and he sat for the rest of the night. If it doesn't get better, he might actually have to go to a doctor. The real irony in this? The health program was supposed to keep you from having to go to the doctor.

Anyway, so while Michael felt like he was dying, I was experiencing an inner conflict: do I stay with him and forego my walk, or do I go for a walk because he's on the phone with his bff anyway?

"Let's not be fat anymore."

I decided to go for the walk. But walking can be so, like, pedestrian.

So I did a walk-run. And then, I walked by the pool, and I was like, man a pool would feel so cool right now. Then I walked home, changed, got my bike, and rode to the pool.
It was more amazing than I had even imagined before some Hispanic children came and threw a ball in my general direction.

Then it was like 8, and I figured I should be getting back so I could go to bed really early. I rode my bike back, and I just felt so ALIVE. The wind was blowing, the clouds were moving, the sun was setting, and everything was just awesome. I didn't think that feeling was possible after not sleeping well having to drag myself in a body bag through work.

Announcer at The Hulk ride: "Please remove all bags before getting on the ride. This includes purses, handbags, book bags, body bags, the bags under your eyes..."

Then, after I showered, the weariness returned.
Sam and I got in a tussle. He started it, though, and he almost won, but I had some cool moves that his little kitty face didn't see coming.

But running, biking, and swimming all in one night?
It's honestly probably the closest I'll ever be to doing a triathlon.

The goal is to have teeth as white at Mark's,
TWS

Villiamsburg

In my German lesson, I had to translate the following:

Was ist Ihr Geschlecht?

Means, "What is your gender?"
It's one of those things that if you have to ask, you probably shouldn't.

I was on my bike on Saturday, pedaling through a shady grove that wasn't Shady Grove. The sun was shining, the locusts were humming, and a little butterfly was fluttering along beside me.
It was all delightful until I realized I was going the speed of a butterfly.

Did you know that warm coffee is better than hot coffee? That's a true story.

I actually had a full cup of black coffee the other day. 

I know people who drink black coffee usually have something to prove, and that was true for me as well. I had to prove to myself that it could be done.
Spoiler alert: it can be.

I was pondering deep questions today, such as "What is the meaning of life?" and "Why don't piranhas eat each other?"

Go to Yahoo! answers, and there's a few brazen scientists using words like, "instinct" and "pheromones" and all types of whatnot. But I think they're all overlooking one very important factor.

Piranha Jesus.

In the beginning, piranhas were vengeful hateful creatures. They still kind of are. Razor-like teeth and a murderous spirit did not bode well for the continuation of the species. God knew this and therefore sent Piranha Jesus to calm the stormy sea, so to speak. Piranha Jesus came and gave the commandment for piranhas love one another and not to eat each other, and so they don't. In fact, he even did them one better by dying for their past sins so that whoever believes in Piranha Jesus may have an eternal fishy life.

I mean, animals just don't wake up and know not to eat their own kind, right? Right. Something has influenced piranhas in such a deep, moving way that it caused them to refrain from eating their own kind.
Holy mackerel! What a miracle!
There is evidence of piranhas not eating each other. Therefore, there is evidence of Piranha Jesus having once lived, and once died, for the sake of all piranhas in the world.

Piranhas swim by faith and not by sight (or smell).

Omg look at this website,
TWS

The Letter N

Feels. I have so many of them today, and most of them are not good feels.

I will compensate by giving you a list of five good feels:

1. When you're wearing high heels, and you walk across some grass, and you sink your heels into the dirt and just revel quietly in the satisfying, sinking feeling of heel into mud. This feel works especially well after a sprinkler or rain.

2. Squeezing a tomato as hard as you can and feeling the insides give up and watch them come through your fingers. Bonus feel: makes your hands soft if you do it enough.

3. When it's really cold and windy outside, and your car has been sitting in a parking lot with the sun shining on it all afternoon, and you run to it and jump inside and bask in its stuffy goodness. Swim practice in the winter intensifies this feel.

4. Silky panties.

5. When something gently strokes or pulls your hair. Sometimes, I'll just be laying there, and Sam will put his claws on my head and do that flexing thing that kitties do and oh my goodness the feels.

That is all I have for you today.

I must find out how Matt got to go youth tubing and then do likewise,
TWS

Crux

$29.96 for a cell phone bill feels good, feels good.

It's been a long time since I came on here and babbled about nothing in particular like I used to do over at the Ooga Booga Surf Company.

So what's been happening while I was away?
Nothing much?

Let me tell you a true story about the first time I used a business card.

I've been carrying a little packet of them in my bag, lazily anticipating the day where I might need to take one out and say, "Here's my card. The person you would actually want to talk to is not me, but here is all of my information."

Or, "Here is my card. My address, phone number and e-mail are all work-related, so if you want my personal information, I'll have to write it on the back."

Needless to say, I had never used one until one day, Mike and I decided to go to the Mexican restaurant at like 7 o'clock after exercising. This is a key point to the story because had we not been there so late, it would've been less crowded, I wouldn't have sat down in the waiting area, and I never would have seen the jar.

But I did see the jar. And it was like, "Drop your business card in for a chance to win a $10 gift card!"
I got all excited. "MIKE!!!! I CAN DO THIS! I actually get to use one of these things!"
So drop one I did. Apparently they do a drawing every month.

And then I got a congratulatory e-mail this morning saying I had won.
I love winning stuff.
Especially tacos.
Much better than winning an iPad.

Baby you a sawng, you make me wanna rowl mai windows down and crooooz

What if, while you were walking around your neighborhood one night, you found a grill that someone threw out?
Plot twist: instead of being a grill that you cook stuff on, it was a grill that someone wore on their teeth.

Nobody, like, cross-stitches anymore,
TWS