This new batch really packs a wallop

Work was tedious today, right up until I went to clock out just now. When I came downstairs there were goodies left over from a set upstairs, and with them some raspberry lemonade (or DPL* for short). Oh happiness. And I see that it's pouring rain outside. I'm very pleased by this discovery. Also, as I walked past the barber shop I saw a small boy running along, probably no more than 5 or 6 years old. I looked at him, he looked at me, and as we passed each other we didn't break eye contact, but instead continued peering over our shoulders at each other. He smiled and I went down the hallway laughing. Now I'm headed home. I have no jacket and I fully intend to take my time walking in the rain as I drink some DPL.

* We used to get this stuff at work all the time last summer. It's pretty strong depending on which flavor you get and it tends to burn your throat on the way down unless you dilute it. But man oh man is it delicious. I wonder what they put in this stuff. I drank two and a half glasses of it straight just now. What do you mean I've had enough?! I know when I've had enough! (That outburst right there was for you Bony M)

Slightly Undone

I just quit my job. Not my real job, but my new early morning job. 4:00 -7:30 a.m.

It just wasn’t working out, which isn’t to say that I didn’t enjoy it. Let’s start by saying I didn’t make it through today, my third day. I should have made it through the spring term (25 more weekdays of working) or even given two weeks notice and muddled through that, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even make it through this morning. And that irritates me that I was in a position where I had to make such a decision- to quit my job without notice. It goes on my record for seven years.

I liked the people. They were funny, even at such an early hour. The lead student supervisor –I liked her too. We’d started calling her E-Dawg and everything. And I got to work with M-Lite, which is how I ended up working there in the first place. I’m going to be honest and say I felt pressured into working there. “It’ll be fun. It’s our last summer together. We can do it.”

I apparently cannot do it. Mostly the decision was made based on how I felt getting up this morning, which was like crap. I’ve slept a grand total 9 hours in the last three days. And each of those days feels like two days because I’d get up at 3:32, go to work from 4:00-7:30, and then come home and try to sleep between 8:00 and 10:30. Try. Then I’d get up and shower and go to my real job from 12:00 to 4:30, after which I’d try to sleep without ever actually managing to. Is it really only Thursday?

So in the middle of our shift I left and found my boss in her office where she was talking to E-Dawg and I said I wanted to talk to her about quitting. Her demeanor was rather cold after that. She reminded me it would go on my record. I said I felt I wasn’t adjusting. She told me to drop my keys and punch out. I did and went to find M-Lite before I left so she’d know I’d gone through with it.

The thing is, I’ve never quit a job before. The job I’m at now I’ve had for 20 months. To the day, now that I look at a calendar. I was hired September 17th 2005. And I’ve stuck with it for my entire BYU career. The job I had in high school? Almost four years. Every day after school December 2001 – August 2005. Even during the summer months - I stayed.

I stayed because I couldn’t quit. I felt I had an obligation to fulfill and because I cared about the people I worked with and for. And some of those factors even applied to this new job, but made no difference in the end. It’s wrong to quit a job without notice and to leave your own sister in the lurch and to let down your employer. That’s what part of me said anyway. The rest of me is sleep deprived. I actually thought I might pass out today while we were cleaning classrooms. I felt queasy in a way that only comes from getting up early. It’s that empty stomach toothpaste feeling. (That’s what I’ve always called it, and I have no better way of explaining how it feels –I’ve tried before without success, so that’s all you get.) And I’m sure that part of it was guilt too. And a sense of helplessness.

So all these things mingled together and it ended with me quitting this morning at 5:28. I exited the building after consulting with someone about whether or not I had to use an after hours exit or just the regular exit. You’re sure the silent alarm won’t sound?

I stepped out into the early morning that was still a blue merle, birds calling through the air as I took my leave. I got a little ways from the building and started crying. I even sobbed some on the way home, and cried more still when I’d made it to my living room, for all the reasons I’ve already mentioned combined with the knowledge that an entire custodial crew was sure to be thinking ill of me. She couldn’t make it three days.

And I try to say that it doesn’t matter. I don’t even know those people –why should I care? In a week they won’t even remember me. Except there was the coldness in the way my boss spoke to me, and the fact that I left M-Lite behind, and the fact that as I left, E-Dawg told me (in a good way) that she’d always remember my name. And now I’m crying again and hoping it’s all a matter of sleep deprivation and not a symptom of a larger something.

Perhaps it was Oral-B

It's been four months now that I've had this floss on my finger and it shows no signs of stopping.

The Weatherholds

I haven't posted in forever. Too much has happened, and most of you have already heard it all by now. That or you were there.

Optimistic. and I drove to Portland to see some concerts. We went and picked out a ring. He met my family. My parents met his parents. He was forced to meet every person I'd ever met on account of the fact that I never moved growing up. Everyone had something to say. None of those things are in the order that they happened.

The concerts were amazing, especially the Decemberists. I've never had so much fun in all my life. The drive home was not as much fun, owing to the fact that the concert was two hours away in Eugene and both of us were falling asleep. We did eat at Shari's though. Man I love that restaurant. And on the way there we crossed over a bridge with a sign that read "Butte Cr."
We were both thinking the same thing.

The group that opened for Andrew Bird, called The Apostles of Hustle, had a sound that attacked you when they played. I felt their music in my collar bones. And as we were leaving I saw a girl with some really cool Nightmare Before Christmas Tattoos.

And we went downtown to Powell's Books, Pioneer Courthouse Square, and Finnegan's Toys. We met up at my house first, me and Optimistic. and his brother "Kevin". My sister H2 was home sick and trying to work out some math homework. She asked for my help and I tried to make sense of the problem by drawing it out, which is how I think, but really I just made the whole thing more confusing. Then Optimistic. and Kevin showed up, and Kevin is in math education so he got excited and started in on the problem, only he couldn't solve it either.

Kevin: Man, I can't believe this.
H2: Me either. You're in college.

I think we were all disappointed that none of us could do the math homework assigned to a thirteen year old, but I can't say I'm surprised.

We went downtown and shopped and walked and ate. I think I could spend a week in Powell's if I brought some sandwiches with me. I bought a few children's books, some postcards, my own set of slang flashcards, and a collection of Wodehouse stories. I found some other things I would have bought if I weren't so cheap, and by cheap I mean practical. There was a neat booklet about the art of thumb wrestling. The jab, the counter-jab, wrist angles - all these things were discussed and diagrammed. There was a book about gamesmanship, or rather how to cheat without really cheating. And another sweet book about croquet. I wanted it mostly for the cover, because that's apparently how I judge books after all is said and done.

We stopped and sat in the shade by a park and watched some children play, by which I mean they ran and screamed and crowded around the drinking fountain, jumped in the pits dug out for the trees, fell off of things, etc. One boy kept on yelling "Barf bags!", and I practiced my glare on a small girl with a ponytail. We continued on our way but stopped almost immediately to use the bathroom. It may have been the dankest restroom I've ever encountered. Definitely a hobo bathroom, with a bottle of vodka on the floor next to the toilet. I took a picture. The good news is that I found 4 pennies outside on the curb. Optimistic. and Kevin each got one. I got two because there were four, and despite all of us proving that we didn't know how to do inequalities earlier that morning, I still knew that three didn't go into four evenly.

We were stopped on the sidewalk and asked to sign a petition. We signed, but when we looked up Kevin was gone. He'd already ambled across the square, managed to find a group of people playing hackey sack, joined them, and had taken his pants off to do so. We sat and watched and I took pictures of some pigeons - fat and gloriously filthy as they were I couldn't resist.

I took my mom to a plant nursery seeing as how I'd missed her birthday in March and Mother's day was coming up. All she usually asks for is dirt for her garden. That said, I wasn't about to mail her dirt across the country, so I told her we'd go and she could pick out whatever plants she wanted for her garden. When we were done we stopped by H's best friend's house, because that's where H had spent the night, at A's house. Her parents were out of town and she was all by herself. I found them in the downstairs living room sitting in the dark eating out of cans and looking incredibly nappy. I think they're incapable of making food for themselves. Or cleaning.

me: Get in the car. Mom wants to take us to lunch.

This was met with some moans about how disheveled they looked weighed against the fact that they needed sustenance.

H: Do you have a hair thing?
me: For the love of crap put this in your hair and let's go.

Burgerville was full - we went to Dairy Queen. Then we went home and H, A and I went to Value Village. Man alive I love that store.

We went to WINCO our last night in town and bought gummi worms, fruit pies, Martinelli's sparkling cider, cookies, strawberries, pudding - anything and everything we felt like eating. We brought it home, made a toast to ourselves with the cider, and had a small midnight feast. We'd meant to go TPing but we were all too tired when the time came around. We'd even taken a pre-TPing nap, but to no avail. We were both dead tired throughout the trip. I guess I'm not used to being so busy. Or I am, but in a different way. Mopping and shopping take their different tolls on me.

We said we would only go TPing "if the weather holds" and H2 asked," Who are the Weatherholds?".

We explained that they weren't people. She said a number of remarkably funny things this visit home, so this is me giving her some mad props for that. I love that family of mine. Krebscout always says that she wants to meet my family because in her mind they are the Weasleys. Optimistic. said he also saw that in them when he met them, so I guess it's true. It was good to be back home where I can be a little more spastic. F also made me laugh with a phrase that is now my new motto and the words I will leave you with - "Keep your friends close and your sandwiches closer." Words to live by indeed.

P.S. The driving parts of the trip were fairly uneventful. I'm not much fun on roadtrips -I tend to sleep. We listened to roughly a billion CD's. Highlights included a rest stop on the way back, and stopping in Baker City at a windmill where I was proposed to. Hoo-ray.

Barefoot in the Park/Kitchen or How I Came to be a Big Winner!

I'm getting married, and much like Optimistic., I have nothing clever to say about it. This is probably due to the fact that my head has exploded. Several times over in fact.

I met the family. Optimistic. fake won the lottery. We got engaged, though fairly unofficially. He called his family. I called my family. I went to convocation with the family. They expressed how excited they were, very unofficially. I got a phone message from H. We went out to eat and got rub on tattoos. We went to L'afro's party. Our friends expressed how excited they were in many rib-crunching hugs. I ate a ring made out of Twizzlers. I was tired out of my mind. We went thrift shopping with most of the family. A 1995 swimming trophy, a Charades game, a pair of old man slippers, half a game of battleship, some clothes, and a hip flask purchase later we were back at his Grandparents' for a family celebration. He announced. We celebrated. I ate strawberries. We're getting married.

Give Said the Little

It's been three months, and the string around my finger is still holding on. It's a little frayed, but I wouldn't be surprised if it made it another few months.

Also, I received a fourth piece of sock mail yesterday. It's from Auntie J, the aunt of my coworker Minerva, who sent me my third piece of sock mail. The whole thing makes me incredibly happy.

Life is good. Terribly, horribly busy, but good. I've taken note of at least 17 things I've wanted to post about, but I haven't had time. I need to write about my Easter in Rexburg as well as some of my fondest Easter memories growing up, and tied into that is the story of my Easter/laundry basket. I have pictures from the Festival of Colors. I have everything I've been thinking from the last few weeks rolling around in my head and nothing to do with it. I have posts eking out my ears and it won't be until after classes are out that I can even attempt to write them all down and do them justice. I have pictures and stories and nonsense waiting to come forth. Wait for it...wait for it...

A magic wishing lamp

I got to use the lift all day today at work. I was 30 feet up in the air cleaning windows and it was amazing. My coworkers and I also decided to plant clues in various places around the building, sort of like a treasure hunt, but much more intense. There will be codes, secret hiding places, and bribery involved. I love my job.

How to read (my face)

Announcement time! The Maoist got in to Boston College. Woot! I just wanted to say how immensely proud of her I am. She was getting a Jamba Juice, saw one of my coworkers, and asked her if she knew where I was. She was then led back to the bathroom I was cleaning, where she told me the good news. I'm excited for her.

I also wanted to say how much I love running into people I know when I'm at work. If you see me you should holler at me and get my attention. It's happened a few times that I've be talking with someone and they mention that they saw me sometime earlier that day or week, but didn't say hello. They usually say it's because when they saw me I looked very busy, very angry, or both. I always have to explain to these people that I'm rarely either of those things, and that that's just the way my face looks. Apparently I look severe most of the time. I think it's the face, coupled with the way I walk, which is quickly.

When my face is at rest the corners of my mouth turn down slightly. I'm not upset, and I wouldn't call it a frown exactly, but that's the way it stays when it's at rest. My smile consists of my lips pulling themselves up into a straight line, taut across my face without allowing my teeth to show. So my neutral face is a frown and my smile is really rather neutral looking. I am not a tooth smiler. It's only within the last few months that I've even attempted tooth smiling for pictures. It's unnatural for me, and therefore requires a great deal of thought and preparation on my part. I may just have to get used to it. The world expects us all to be tooth smilers, but I like to think that all good smiles start in the eyes somewhere. There's a crinkling that occurs when something truly tickles my fancy, and it's after this that I throw my head back and laugh.

And if none of this helps you in reading me, there's always the Helen Keller approach, but I don't think you should start feeling my face unless you've already tried the approach I've delineated above.

I found it delightful

I read this today and wanted to pass it along - it's a poem by Jay Hopler from his book Green Squall. The form will be a bit off, but oh well. Either he'll never know, he'll forgive me, or I'll get sued.

MEDITATION ON RUIN

It's not the lost lover that brings us to ruin, or the barroom brawl,

or the con game gone bad, or the beating

Taken in the alleyway. But the lost car keys,
The broken shoelace,
The overcharge at the gas pump
Which we broach without comment - these are the things that

eat away at life, these constant vibrations

In the web of the unremarkable.

The death of a father - the death of the mother -
The sudden loss shocks the living flesh alive! But the broken

pair of glasses,

The tear in the trousers,
These begin an ache behind the eyes.
And it's this ache to which we will ourselves
Oblivious. We are oblivious. Then, one morning - there's a

crack in the water glass - we wake to find ourselves undone.

Everybody plays the fool

Anyone else pee blue this morning? I'm hoping so, otherwise that last sentence might make things a bit awkward. Dimmi and Lavish, I'm shaking my fist at you right now, even as I type. Just know that I don't forgive pranks without some form of pranking in return, and by some form I mean that it's probably not safe for you to fall asleep. Ever again. And by forgive I mean hold a grudge and enter into a war to the death making all involved regretful, as ultimately they're left empty shells of their former selves, wasted and morally debauched with no hope of pursuing a useful, normal, or satisfying life.

Also, as I shake my fist I'm doing that pointing with two fingers stare. How am I doing both of those things while still managing to type? I'm simply doing the pointing while I shake the one hand and typing with the other, which doesn't look as menacing as I would have hoped, but rather more like a disgruntled elderly person with the shakes has it out for you.

When I noticed this morning that my pee was blue, do you know what I thought? Of course you don't, but I know that you're dying (ha!) to find out, so I'm going to tell you. My initial thought was, "I'm not M-Lite."

You're thinking this is a conclusion I probably should have reached fifteen or twenty years ago.

Bear with me. I do have a reason for thinking this, and it's because Wednesday at the hospital they injected M-Lite with the same stuff that would make her pee blue, so when I discovered that my pee was also blue I was a bit confused. It was also early in the morning. Ah well.

Also, just to guilt trip Dimmi and Lavish, methylene blue does have side effects, aside from just the blue urine. Yeah, the abdominal pain, chest pain, and dizziness makes sense now. Maybe because you're not supposed to use it on people who are sick.

I don't think either of them read this blog, so someone pass it along to them to watch their backs. Shakes fist again while pointing.

Ob-La-Da

Well, M-Lite's surgery went really well, and we got her pathology report back yesterday. No more cancer! Hooray! The doctor gave us a double thumbs up. She's going to have a sweet scar though, let me tell you.

Also, it was actually kind of fun being at the hospital on Thursday when she went in to have her surgery. F2 and I kept joking with the medical people coming in and out, we took some fun pictures with M-Lite, and we got to eat some Handi Snacks and apple juice. Yum! Perhaps best of all is that I made M-Lite a cancer crossword while she was out. It's a thing of beauty, if you haven't already seen it.

She goes back on Monday and Friday to have some staples removed, but other than that she's mostly done. I just wanted to say I'm incredibly thankful for everyone who helped us out these last few weeks, either by coming with us to Salt Lake, making M-Lite food, taping paper effigies of themselves (as well as some celery) to out front door, or just by asking how she's been doing. It really has meant a lot to me, so thank you.

Ob-La-Di

Too much has happened and it's been too long since I posted last. The festival of Colors was amazingly fun. I think it must have been similar to how it felt to be at Woodstock. Okay, maybe not, but I thought of it when I saw the masses with their bags of colored powder traipsing around a giant bonfire like pagans. It was fun. And I hit a small kid with a rock. Oh boy. Maybe I'll post more about it when I get my pictures developed. We'll see.

Meeting Dean and CJ was fun - I was sorry to see them go, even though I did not in fact actually see them go. I liked being around people who were so carefree.

I ate soup for the first time in approximately fifteen years and loved it. I hate soup. I have one hazy memory of staring at a bowl of tomato soup as a child. But krebscout's taco soup tasted like chili, so it went surprisingly well. Apparently it had cilantro in it, as well as about fifteen other things I would never think to eat. Good, I say. I should try more foods.

ND, my mom's best friend since 4th grade was in town and M-Lite and I were supposed to hang out with her, but she had to reschedule and I missed her. Last time she came she took us to the grocery store and told us to buy twenty dollars of whatever we wanted. Bony M got a lot of blueberries - blueberry pancake mix, frozen blueberries, etc. I don't exactly remember what I got. I know I picked up some chocolate chips and a few other baking essentials. This time she left us each twenty dollars, so when Optimistic. and I went to the store I bought all the things I would never ordinarily buy for myself, like fruit snacks and DOTS and bread.

And I found out last Friday on my birthday that M-Lite has cancer. Melanoma stage IIB. I dismissed it, not knowing at that time how serious it was. Now I know. I went with her to her consultation in Salt Lake where we found out all the statistics involved, what the procedure would be, studies she could participate in, etc. That scared me down to my core.

She coped with it very well and worked out all the insurance information with the nurse behind the desk while I paced. I pace a lot. When I talk on the phone or when I brush my teeth I find it necessary to roam about the space I'm in. So I paced the office and worried and paced and panicked more than somewhat and tried to keep it together for M-Lite's sake because I wouldn't be much good to her if I broke down right there on the spot. I wished I could have called someone. Instead I worked in my Boggle book and roamed the halls until I found some bubble wrap to play with.

We drove home singing to the radio, a million thoughts going through my mind, the main one being, "If there's anybody who doesn't deserve this it's her". I scribbled in a spiral notebook when I saw interesting things, like the license plate of the car in front of us that said SO M UP, which M-Lite guessed must have been driven by a surgeon. And there was a billboard with Abraham Lincoln on it. Our sixteenth president is now linked in my mind with everything that happened that day.

Anyway, we drove, sang, and got lunch at Wendy's once we were back in Provo. I never would have been able to remain as composed as she did, and it surprised me that she was so upbeat and that I was coming undone. Anyway, she's going in for surgery this week. F2 is flying in to take care of her, thank goodness. If she wasn't coming it would mean that I would need to be the responsible one, and while I know that I can be, it's nice to not have to be. I don't want to be the brave responsible one; I want to be the younger sister that I am.

M-Lite said she was more worried about me driving her home from Salt Lake than she was about the actual procedure. I can't say I blame her. I'm a nervous driver when I have passengers. It's good that F2 will be here.

All in all this last week has been okay. The week before that was not as okay. I should sleep more. Oh well. That's most of the major plot points. Also in there somewhere, I did my taxes, signed a Summer housing contract, drank a very tart Slurpee, went to an eagle scout court of honor, got creamed playing Boggle, took a walk, drove to Borders, went to work, aced my English midterm, listened to some great accordion music, went to Carl's Jr., and saw some good movies.

The end for now.

A freckle-faced redhead girl you want to know

Best birthday ever. This is where I recap how awesome it was.

First came the pith helmet, which you know. Something I forgot to mention was what my dad told me when I called to thank him for it. He said," Make sure you write your name in it so you don't get it mixed up with everyone else's pith helmet." I laughed so hard at that.

And that opened the floodgates. So many gifts. I feel so loved.

Next came the coolest bag ever. It's yellow and made to look like a "caution wet floor" sign. Then came the sock. My friend sent me a sock postmarked on the 12th, making it my third piece of sock mail. I'm so glad. Thanks to M and M2 who make work so much more enjoyable.

My birthday package from home contained Twizzlers, approximately 4 pounds of gummi worms from Winco, The New Adventures of Pippi Longstocking, orange tic tacs, birthday candles, balloons, a Bart Simpson figurine, a notebook full of graph paper, gift cards to Old Navy and Barnes and Noble, a threadless shirt, an I can Stencil Pirates! book, several weeks worth of comics from The Oregonian, and my favorite three berry blend jam.

Also,
-A and B sent me a card saying they'd bought me a cranberry farm.
-a girl in my ward gave me Andes mints and a card that said I did not look like a fat dinosaur.
-both F2 and Boney M called me and wished me a happy birthday.
-my roommate gave me a delightful card and several bars of candy.

Then the gifts from my party! I got
- edited copies of The Big Lebowski and Good Will Hunting from my cousins
- 2 boggle brain busters books from the Maoist
- a small can of meat that had a label taped to it that said Sugarman's from Little Pete
- a yoyo from Robert Poste
- Some Like it Hot and The Rescuers from M-Lite
- 7 boxes of jello from A and C
-a Cat Shtevens CD and the coolest scrapbook page ever from krebscout.
-a giant road atlas that I'm itching to put to use. Thank you Ahem.
-a New York Times touch screen handheld crossword puzzle dealy and all the supplies to make a whole lot of sock puppets. Thank you Optimistic..
-Superthug gave me an amazing card with a monster terrorizing a city on it.
-and a special gift from Uffish involved a goose and a golden W

Also, Ahem and krebscout made me the coolest cake I've ever laid both my eyes on, shaped like a windmill, complete with a small Don Quixote made from frosting. I've never been more impressed. And they were gracious enough to let me have my party at their apartment. It's a tradition I started last year, celebrating my birthday at krebscout's. When we're 78 she may finally be sick of me, but until that day comes I'm going to keep on throwing myself birthday parties in her house.

This birthday actually started in the grocery store after eating at Taco Bell, going to the Divine Comedy tech show, and watching Scrubs with some of my favorite people. And before that was the Happy Pirates show and Pi day, movie night, jungle gyms, 24, and back and back and back. I'm never able to separate out the events of my life - they all tend to run together making it seem as though this whole semester has been one incredibly long and fun-filled day. Halcyon is the word I want to use.

That's all really. I just wanted to show off how much people love me based on all the cool things they gave me, and to say thank you to everyone who came to my party. It was nice to see so many people from the old ward there. Thanks for making my 20th so special. I love you guys.

Also, today is my favorite holiday. Happy St. Patrick's Day!

The pith of the matter

A pith helmet! I'm overjoyed. My dad sent it to me for my birthday, and I must say it's one of the coolest things I've ever been given. I'm trying to think of ways I can put it to good use this summer. Oh boy I'm excited. It's made me rather giddy, having such a cool hat. I wore it last night when we went to Kiwanis Park and played on the jungle gym. It's the closest thing I've got to a real jungle for now, but it sure was fun.

Other news: tomorrow is the two month mark for how long I've had this piece of floss tied around my finger for no reason. It's also Pi day, and the Happy Pirates are having a show! I wrote new words to "In Our Lovely Deseret" on Sunday to make another pirate hymn. This is how it goes -

On the high seas of Pro-vo, where we sail and yell "yo ho!"
are us pi-rates and we like to do improv.
We are swar-thy, we are knaves, we have scur-vy, we don't shave
and we never wear char-treuse or puce or mauve!
Arr! Arr! Arr! We're hap-py pi-rates. Bliss-ful Bucc-an-eers are we.
When we come to do a show, oh we hope that it won't blow
b-ut, after all you did get in for free!

In addition to this hymn I have "Pirates can be together forever" and "Shiv one another." All three of them are terribly catchy.

Also, it's my birthday this Friday the 16th of March, and I'm terribly excited for it to come. My family mailed my birthday package yesterday and I've been promised that it contains my favorite kind of jam. I'm so happy right now.

Pigeon Crap Tuesday

Today was pigeon crap Tuesday, despite the fact that it's a Monday. Under the east canopy at work there are pigeons that nest in the eaves, which gets to be quite messy. This last summer it was our job to clean out the eaves on Tuesdays. The process involves a hose, a very tall ladder, and getting sprayed with a lot of pigeon crap. It's glorious.

So today, first thing when I got in to work my boss said that the pigeons needed to be dealt with and I leapt at the chance. I hadn't gotten to do pigeon duty in ages.

"Pigeon crap Tuesday?! On a Monday?! It's Christmas come early!"

Three of us went out there, but I have the most experience so I got to do most of the hosing while up on the ladder. Basically it rains down crap and you try to not get covered in the stuff. And it was beautiful outside today, which made it that much more exciting. The whole thing took an hour and a half. Time sure flies when you're up to your elbows in bird poop.

Story from this Summer. My coworker E and I were usually the ones to do pigeon crap Tuesday. It all came about because of these memos we'd get from PB who's in charge of everything that goes on in the Wilk. He'd send us memos asking us to get rid of the birds and we'd be forced to go out and deal with them as best we could, which usually involved hosing out the eaves while up on a ladder. One time he called in saying that there was a nest under the canopy and that we were to tear it down. We went out there, looked at it, and both of us admitted that we were hesitant to destroy some poor bird's nest. E said that we were just doing our job, that we were following orders, and that we couldn't possibly be held accountable for what we were about to do. I made reference to Nuremberg at that point. He ignored me and tore down the nest.

Directly after tearing down this nest we went to put our ladder away, and what happened? A little bird flew up into the eaves where its nest used to be and produced a few sorrowful sounding cheeps, almost as if to say "Hey, where's my house?"

Then a second bird flew up and the two cheeped together, having a conversation that I can only imagine went something like this:

B2: What happened?! Where's our house?
B1: I don't know, but when I came back there were two evil custodians walking away from here. I just don't understand why they would want to tear down our home.
B2: What did we ever do to deserve this? For the love of all that's good and decent, why? Why did this have to happen?

Yeah, we felt pretty low about having destroyed their nest, and what's worse is that the crosswalk by the canopy makes that chirping sound, and every time it sounded I thought of what we'd done. We also accidentally killed some baby birds once. I wasn't actually there for that one, but I heard about it that afternoon. They didn't know they were up there when we started the process.

The last time I did pigeon crap Tuesday was sometime last semester. I was up on a ladder with a broom handle trying to force out a particularly large pigeon while it kept backing further and further into the corner. Then a girl from one of my classes walked by and we had a semi-awkward greeting due to the fact that I was up on a ladder antagonizing a pigeon and she was walking around like a normal human being. I succeeded in getting the bird to take flight while she was still present, which was unfortunate because its movements caused quite a bit of crap to come showering down.

Oh well. I got to be outside doing something incredibly fun, disgusting, and interesting this afternoon after having to sit through three incredibly boring classes. Today was a great day.

Scars with a Z

"Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London underground." -Albus Dumbledore

I have my fair share, but none of them are very cool. Not at all in fact. Guys always seem to have cool scars. I've never broken anything, so all of mine are from nicks and cuts, etc.

On my hands, starting with the right
-There's a half inch long white line at the base of my thumb. Source: unknown
-Middle knuckle of my middle finger. Short, thick, white scar. This one is from playing pool of all things. M-Lite and I used to go down to the basement of the old apartments and play, and somehow we'd always end up talking with ridiculous fake accents. One time my hand slipped and I gouged my knuckle open on the edge of the table. I don't handle pain all that well. I ran upstairs to get Neosporin and band aids, hoping I wouldn't pass out before I got there. M-Lite has a similar scar on the same finger from cutting hair.

My left hand
-There are several spots on the palm of my hand where the natural lines are interrupted and my flesh looks as though it must have been pinched by something. I have no idea if this came about naturally or what.
-The base of my ring finger has a squat segment of a scar. I nicked it at work cleaning the chef's office. I don't understand why it chose to scar, as I've had much worse happen with nothing left behind to show for it. Hmmmm.
-A white line, an inch and a half long on the left side of my hand, on the flat part that you'd rest on the desk while writing. Everyone needs a nemesis growing up. I detested a little boy six years my junior who had a better vocabulary than most adults I know. Playing chase at the church building I ended up being cut by a pen that was jagged at one end, its clip having been broken off. Little beads of blood formed, and as per usual I headed for a restroom to clean it off before I could faint. Man I hated that kid. He bit me in the leg once.
-No scar remains from this that I've been able to see, but sometime this past summer I managed to cut off the tip of my thumb. I was using a pair of scissors to detach long strips of magnets from some metal poles. My hand slipped and whoops! I sliced into my thumb. Like I said, I don't deal with pain very well. I grabbed some toilet paper to blot with and laid down on my back on the floor by the vanity with my feet up in the air, holding my thumb, feeling lightheaded, and hoping that the skin would reattach itself. Finally I called out for M-Lite, asking her to come into the back. She came back, found me lying like I was, and I told her I'd cut off the top of my thumb, and asked could she please get me some Neosporin and some band aids? The skin never did reattach itself.

My head
- I have a large white spot on my chin. I have no idea why. It's possible that it's left over from the chicken pox I had as a child and I've only just noticed it. Likewise, I have a small white spot on my nose.Then again I'm white all over, so it's possible that it's not a scar, and just my natural coloration.
-High on my forehead is a dent. Playing horsey as a child I was ridden into a rocking chair.
-Somewhere on the top of my head there is a scar. I've never seen it, but I believe that it must be there. It's from a ladle. M-Lite and I were sword fighting when we were little, and even though I had the older, sturdier ladle, and she had the new blue plastic one, I was the one who ended up getting hurt. She bopped me on the head and I bled. A lot. Head wounds do that. I was put in my parents' bed to rest and I bled all over my dad's pillow. He gave me the pillow after that, as it was blood stained and of no use to him.

This opens up a whole other can of worms though, because I remember being glad he'd given it to me because I didn't have a pillow at the time. I have no idea why this was, just that I didn't have one. I'm sure there's a logical explanation - I probably lost it or something, and in the shuffle and the hustle and bustle of ten people all living together nobody noticed. I find it very funny is all, because I didn't have an Easter basket either. Some of my siblings had set Easter baskets that they had dibs on and used every year while the rest of us used ice cream buckets or whatever. I also did not have a Christmas stocking for a few years because mine got lost. Each of us has a stocking with our name on it, but mine disappeared somehow and for several years my mom used a brown paper lunch sack instead. I have a new one now, but for a few years I kind of expected to find some yogurt and a sandwich awaiting me Christmas morning.

Just to clarify, I don't actually think I was neglected in any way that was harmful to me- looking back I think it's really quite funny, these things I realize about my childhood, and I laugh and wonder why I didn't have a pillow.

That's all really, except for some scars on my feet and some obvious mental problems. The end.

"Mumps" said the doctor, "Measles" said the nurse...

Today at work was long and grueling with no end in sight. People kept asking for changes to their sets, we were out of poles, we were rushed and pressed for time, and as a rule I have no patience with people who worked ineptly and inefficiently. The Ballroom needed to be taken down and set up, as did the Terrace. I was a bit stressed out. Then I saw L'afro and she fed me popcorn. That made my day. L'afro, I thank you a million times over.

In unrelated news I had a dream that I purchased a white alligator skin purse for $46.38.

Je n'ai pas besoin d'un parapluie

I thought that yesterday was nice weather-wise, because the sun was out and it was T-shirt weather for once. My coworker and I got to cut up a refrigerator box and sweep the south dock, which was a lot more fun than it might sound. Using our exacto knives we cut out all the cool phrases we could find on the box and kept them. Mine I'm going to turn into refrigerator magnets, which I think is very appropriate. So we worked and we talked and we stood in the sun and we sang familiar songs, tweaking the lyrics to make them about custodial work. We're contemplating performing a medley at the Moppies in April.

Best of all, it rained last night, and the air was perfumed with that wonderful scent of soil, the smell of wet dirt that I will never get over no matter how long I live. I only thought it had been nice out until that happened.The rain made it beautiful, making me miss home. And this morning it continued raining. It was overcast. I was ecstatic.

When I set out for class this morning it was only sprinkling, but then it really started up and it was glorious. Living in the northwest you learn to walk with your head at such an angle that your glasses don't get wet, but today I didn't care. In fact, I even thought to slow down a bit and enjoy being outside in it. I waited at the crosswalk longer than I needed to in order to soak it all up. I hope it stays like this for awhile. It probably won't, but that's okay. This rain has signaled the coming of Spring, which means road trips, playing croquet, and all sorts of things. Man alive I'm excited.

Here's looking at you Kearl

Krebscout gave me cauliflower. Chou-fleur. I'm so happy. For that and for other reasons.


Also, this is my fiftieth post, give or take fifty. Hoo-ray.

The contents of my purse

(1) green spiral notebook marked "crosswords"
(1) deck of invisible playing cards
(1) plastic bib from a McDonald's in Blackfoot Idaho
(1) lens cleaning cloth in its original bag, encased in a second plastic bag
(1) one dollar bill
(1) piece of paper inviting me to join the birthday club at Craigo's
(1) green cloth napkin with a Twix wrapper folded inside of it
(1) key ring holding (1) house key and (9) cards - Border's gift card, BYU student ID, Oregon driver's license, Washington County library card, Provo city library card, my laundry card, Washington Mutual debit card, Target gift card, and M-Lite's Washington County library card
(1) package of Kleenex tissues, received in my stocking at Christmas
(1) copy of Symptoms & Illnesses
(1) movie stub I found on the ground at work
(2) yellow pencils, neither of them size 2. A Dixon Ticonderoga size 2 5/10 medium, and a General's BADGER size 2 2/4
(1) cell phone
(1) ballpoint pen
(1) tube of Mint Delight softlips brand chapstick I got last Christmas from the Maoist
(1) Hall's cough drop wrapper
(3) pennies - 1994, 2004, and 1975, one of which I was given on Valentine's day
(1) dime - 2004
(2) quarters - 1995 and 2005
(1) piece of two foot long tape I stole from a dispenser in the BYU-Idaho library that is now condensed into a small blob after having been wrapped around my finger for a brief period of time
(1) brown fork