For $23 a day you can rent this monster from Enterprise (but first: are you crazy? the gas mileage sucks!). Anyway, since I have no car, I am forced to rent in order to get to/from work. It's expensive, it's a hassle, and I am reaching my "I am totally fed up with this crap" point at an alarming speed. How fast is that? Well, it's a little faster than the speed at which this truck will plow you over on the road because I didn't see you because I am too high off the ground.
You know how they say that it takes 2 weeks for form a new habit? Well, I am one day closer to reaching the 2 week mark for being a clean freak {refer to post 1.22.06 for a full discussion}. I bet that's something you never thought you'd hear from ME with my 25 year history of disorganized clutter. I am becoming a clean freak, and I have 2 ways to prove it. Last night as I was snuggling down under my covers in bed, I realized that I had left my socks on the floor. It troubled me so much that I had to get up and put them in my hamper before I could go to sleep. Seriously, this has never happened to me before. The second proof is a photo I took today randomly (as in, I did NOT prepare for this picture- I just went upstairs and this is what I saw):
Do you see? Not a clutter in sight. Only 5 more days until this way of living is a confirmed habit. And since I work all day tomorrow and all day Thursday, the opportunity to slip up is even less. And Friday I have a wedding to go to. And then Sunday I'll be antiquing in St. Charles. So really that leaves just Saturday. I can manage one piddly day, don't you think?
Now, if you don't mind, I have socks that need mated.
Yours truly,
Ms. Don't Mess With Me, I'm Cleaning
I was officially accepted into the masters program at the University of Genova. Now you know.
Ok, I admit it: I thought I had a serious problem- I accumulate junk faster than any other human being on the face of the planet. Every single solitary foot of my living space has clutter/junk/trash in it. It builds up to the point of driving me out of the space because I can no longer comfortably physically fit in there. It becomes unsightly, chaotic, and just plain hazardous- three weeks ago, I fell so hard on a piece of slippery junk (I think it was a bowl) that I had a terrible headache and was nauseated for 2 days. It's been particularly bad lately. Gianluca said something wise a while back that concerned me- he said he thinks being messy on the outside is a good indication to what's inside. Remembering that today, I panicked a bit and did some reading. I have to say, I have terrible news for you all: Gianluca was right, but it's all your fault: 
You see how beautiful they are? I am so proud of them. At night, I tuck them in at bedtime like this:
Ok, not really. This is how you get the yogurt precursor to "set" into what we know as yogurt. A heating pad, some blankets, and a little TLC are all it takes. I gave Tiffany a jar of my vanilla yogurt- she'll have to post her opinion after she has an adequate sampling period. The best thing is you can make it how you like it (mine is fat free and sugar free)- whole milk, skim milk, tons of sugar, no sugar, whatever flavor you want, etc., and you know what's in it. No preservatives, additives, or anything. I'll post the recipe in a separate link-post just in case I've inspired you to try it (let me know how yours turned out if you do). Anyway, so that's the new "hobby" I've picked up. (I did get up at 2:00 am two nights in a row to check on them, though)
The other newsworthy item is that, as I mentioned, John (Tiffany's fiance) picked up the Durango, so it is officially out of my possession now. Here's John, smiling and happy with his new friend. I think the Durango almost looks happy, too:
So I am officially without a car of my own. Thanks to my best Italian friend (Gianluca), I do have a car to drive, though, at least until I find out whether I'm going to Italy or not. Enjoy your truck, John! :)
Ann is 24 years old, a fellow MU alumnus (school of Journalism), and is currently an account executive at Moosylvania Marketing. I chose this photo because the look on my nephew's face is the look on the face of lots of guys when they see her- she's very attractive, and damned photogenic. One of the reasons I love her is that despite the fact that she could probably choose any guy she pleases, she has a very funny dating track record which includes several Canadians, some overly schmoopy fellows, and one guy who lived with my parents for a while. Why does that endear her to me, you ask? Because she's obviously looking for more than appearances, and that's sort of what she's all about- character. When my sister Jennifer, my mother, and I are sitting around being catty about something, Ann will be the one to change the subject. She is my younger sister, but if I need someone to just listen to me and then offer sound advice, she's it. I can't explain that really- there's a certain advice giving/listening quality she has that lends itself very nicely to particular situations, and makes a person feel like they've really been heard. She is fiercely loyal to her friends and family- you'll find no better back-up anywhere. My mom always says that I stress her out because I worry her so much (with my misfortunate and chaotic life)- she never says that about Ann. In fact, no one worries about Ann. Why is that? She's got it together. She's intelligent, ambitious, creative, fun, and a great planner (she plans the majority of our family vacations). Sure, she takes 2 full hours to get ready to go somewhere, but when she arrives she is polished and prepared in every sense of the word. And I love her because she still needs her big sister sometimes (me, not Jennifer)- whenever she has a health scare, she calls me to find out whether she should panic or not. And although she rolls her eyes and sighs because I am so ridiculous, she still lets me talk her into things- just ask her about mineral makeup.
P.S. You know how I hate to work three in a row? The PICU called this morning and I'm "at home" today because the unit is pretty slow. So I'll only have to work 2 in a row- very manageable. That's why I'm posting this early- I was already up and ready when they called.
(See how much she loves Aroma's too?)
A couple interesting things occurred during our little visit. Would you believe that (unbeknownst to me) I already knew the people that owned my newly found, favorite coffeeshop? This makes twice now that I've known people that owned a coffeeshop I frequented, because you'll recall that last time I entered a coffeeshop in Alton (Meridian Coffee House), I realized it was owned by a girl I had gone to high school with. Anyway, so the barista looked familiar to me every time, but I couldn't place him. His wife, however, recognized me immediately- she and her husband used to own a pet sitting business that I used frequently for my dog Maddie. So we got to talking and she was telling me how she wants to put together a brochure on the history of the building, and then Amy piped up and told her that I am a good writer and before you knew it I was agreeing to do the brochure myself (research, writing, and all). So we'll see how that goes. I'm sure it's not paid, but maybe I'll get some free coffee out of the deal, and it's bound to be good experience. Anyway, as always, I'll keep you posted.
This is my sister Jennifer, and that is no beer bong she's holding. It's a kids' toy that she was waving really hard in a circle while laughing and trying to talk through it. I chose this photo because it sort of illustrates what I'm about to tell you. Anyone who knows her knows how fun she is. Have you ever seen a 31 year old get really excited to go sledding after a good snowfall? Well, my sister Jennifer gets more than just excited. She strategizes about it- like thinking about how many times she'll be able to go down the hill and in what fashion (so that she is able to plan the most efficient sledding event possible). Then, after planning for and thinking of all the possible outcomes (including the quality of the snow, the material of the particular sled she is using, and the best time of day to approach the hill) , she approaches the event with all the enthusiasm and liveliness of a five year old. She'll get all dressed up so that every inch of her skin is covered (you can sled more if you conserve your heat energy, she theorizes) except the tops of her red cheeks and her eyes, which absolutely glow with the excitement of the prospect of having possibly the best sledding outing to date. Though she is so swathed in clothing that she can barely walk, there is always a certain bounce in her waddle on the way to the sledding hill. Then, with the precision of a cardiac surgeon, she arranges herself on the sled just so. Then, since at this point moving would destroy what she believes to be her aerodynamic positioning, she usually will ask her husband Carey to give her the push-off, along with careful and detailed instructions not to push too hard or shove her so that she becomes airborne. This she does with the seriousness of a funeral home director. Then, he'll push her off and down the hill she'll go. To anyone observing, it will be a nondescript trip. But to Jennifer, it is the flight of a millenium. The sled will bounce a couple times, and it will appear that she is on the brink of a wipeout, but by some miracle she will manage to remain upright on her sled. Then her sled finally crawls to a stop, and she lumbers off of it with complete lack of grace (due, I'm sure, only to the extra 50 pounds of clothing she is wearing) and, completely unabashed, she begins her trek back up the hill, breathless and grinning from ear to ear. The whole way up, you can tell she is planning the next trip down, which is sure to include several minute corrections that she has determined will make all the difference in the next ride. But with her this approach is not just limited to sledding; instead, this is how she approaches her entire life, and it is one of the reasons that she will always be one of my favorite people. She has the capability and intelligence of an adult combined with the excitement and silliness of a kid. It's quite a combination, and the next time we go sledding, feel free to come along to witness her at her best- I'm sure she could teach you a thing or two about proper sledding mechanics along the way.
I’ve spent a bit of time lately thinking about what might make me happy in life. It’s not so deep a question as it may first appear. It’s actually pretty simple, at least in my case. Since there’s no single answer, this question becomes a sort of dynamic inquiry which changes from hour to hour, day to day, year to year. For example, had you asked me yesterday at work (when I was operating on approximately 4 hours of sleep) what would make me happy, I would have answered very quickly, “Going home and going to sleep.” Yet by the time I got home yesterday, happiness had changed into a couple hours of downtime and a hot bath. When I was in college, happiness was graduating, a real job, and no homework. After college, happiness was being in college. So I was thinking about this and I decided that part of what I’m lacking right now is a more permanent goal to ensure that I am happy in this life. I need to start thinking long-term, in other words. Sure, a cappuccino and a table at Aroma’s is happiness to me and probably always will be, but it’s not the sort of thing that can keep me happy for a lifetime. So what is, then? I have come up with the following:
Take a good look at this face. Before long it'll be at Copley's West 9th with Gianluca (my good Italian friend/ex-roommate/self-appointed scholarship coordinator) and Raffa (his Italian on-again-off-again girlfriend). This face will force him to tell me what the heck the deal is with this stupid scholarship. It may be smiling sweetly right now, but it is prepared to get tough. Because personally, I think he's dragging his feet to tell me that I'm not going. And you know what? It would not be the end of the world. I mean, think about it. I could actually settle down a little, date someone without worrying that I'll be leaving shortly, maybe go back to school, get involved in some local organizations, etc. I'd be fine. I'd just like to know. Now, look at that face and tell me honestly that it's asking too much.
As expected, I find myself again at Aroma's. If this is anything like Lakota's, finding me will always be easy...just stop in at 554 E. Broadway in Alton, IL and there I'll be.
Anyway, today I actually got up at 9 am, which is something I have not managed to do since the start of the holidays (I've been sleeping later in order to make up for the lack of sleep I get during the night). So maybe I'm starting to get a foot up on my stupid sleep cycle.
You know, I was so excited to find this place yesterday that I had to ask myself why it was that big of a deal to me. And I think I know the answer- it's all the fault of my first college English professor, Dr. Greg Foster. Greg (he wanted us to call him that) was an awesome writer, and he demanded the best from his students. I came into the class knowing I could write well, but after receiving back the first couple papers completely (and I do mean completely) marked all in red with his comments, I began to question myself as an English major. There wasn't a single one of us who managed to escape his wrathful pen. But he realized that he was asking a lot from us, so he offered to meet us individually in various coffeeshops on campus to discuss how to improve a particular writing. At first I took him up on it for the sake of what I was sure would be an otherwise failing grade. Then, at one point he actually stepped outside of his usual constructively critical self and told me that I had the potential to be an interesting and good writer. He asked if I ever wrote anything of my own volition. I told him that I had (I used to write stories and poems). He told me he'd like to read some of them, and then we could meet and discuss them. Those meetings were some of the hardest and most exhilerating meetings I've ever had. It was hard because my writings were very personal, and most of them had never been seen by anyone else before (And I have to say that many were corny and over-emotional...I would be embarassed to claim them now). And he read them with the same critical eye that had marked all of my papers. But for every suggestion and criticism, he offered up something he particularly liked- some way that I had seen something differently that had really made him think, or some particular alliteration I'd used. Over the course of the semester, we spent more than a few hours at Osama's in Columbia (no longer there, unfortunately) talking about poetry and writing as a creative outlet for life...and I drank it all in like the eager young pupil that I was. It was what I had always imagined a university education would be. To this day, there are very few classes that have taught me as much (Honors Organic I with Dr. Ranier Glaser and Honors Calculus II are the only two others that come to mind). Anyway, at some point coffeehouses (thanks to Greg) became to me a symbol of learning and creativity, and I guess that's why to this day I still like them so much.
So, cheers to all the great college professors out there who impact students' lives in ways they never could have imagined.
P.S. I ended up with an A in the class. I think I was one of only 2 that semester.
Have you ever seen such coffeehouse splendor? So what all does this place offer, you ask?
Wi-Fi access
great espresso
awesome atmosphere
plenty of seating
upper and lower level
great variety of drinks at reasonable prices
they serve lunch
great view of the river and bridge
It doesn't get much better than this. Just look at Andrea's face...she's positively beaming. Oh wait, that may have more to do with that little bulge in her tummy area:
Anyway, this is by far the most successful day I've had since moving back to Alton. If any of you come through town in the future, give me a call (or an e-mail) and I'll meet you there for a coffee. Chances are I'll already be there anyway.
Dear screwed up sleep/wake cycle,
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