If you've been reading, you know that I've had a pretty rough week. Monday's news left me crying until the well of my tears had run dry. Tuesday's discovery really just pissed me off. Wednesday, I had to have a biopsy. They say that bad things happen in threes. But even so, the outlook for the birthday festvities on Thursday did not look good.
Since the week was sucking so badly, I decided to take Friday off. I spent the better part of the morning at my favorite spa -- I got a massage, a mani/pedi, and even got my hair done. Then I went shopping (always a favorite activity). I took the puppy on an extra long walk. I enjoyed a long workout, not feeling rushed for the first time in a long time. And then, after taking as long as I wanted to get ready, the new man and I went to a comedy/magic show, where I laughed so hard that my tummy still hurts this morning.
So the hellish week ended happily after all. And my birthday was a happy one, despite the other not-so-happy events of this week. Thanks to everyone for your support about my dad. And thanks to everyone for the birthday cards, flowers, gifts, lunches/dinners, etc. I've never doubted that I have the best friends and family around, but if ever there was a week when I needed a little confirmation, this was it. So thanks for being there.
I heart you all!
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
To the Evil Key-er of My New Car:
What kind of mother raised you to believe that it is acceptable to so badly damage the brand-new car of someone who has done nothing, I repeat: NOTHING, to you whatsoever?
Did the shiny (and did I mention brand-new?) silver paint allow you to see your monstrous reflection, and did it repulse you so much that you had to destroy said reflective surface?
Has life been so unkind to you that you felt it necessary to demonstrate to someone else WHO YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW that life is unfair?
Did you assume, based on the new car, that I have been even a little bit successful, and did it make you so angry that you needed to cut me down (or cut my car with your key, as it were) so you wouldn't feel like such a complete failure?
How would you feel if you worked really hard for something, and then within three weeks of getting it, someone ruined it?
I just want you to know that I forgive you (but only because I am required to do so). Whatever has happened to you that made you so hateful, that turned your heart into such an abyss of blackness, that stripped you of any conscience whatsoever, must have been so much more terrible than the foot-long scratch you inflicted on my unsuspecting (and previously unblemished) door. So I feel pity for you. I hope you gain a soul sometime in this life.
Did the shiny (and did I mention brand-new?) silver paint allow you to see your monstrous reflection, and did it repulse you so much that you had to destroy said reflective surface?
Has life been so unkind to you that you felt it necessary to demonstrate to someone else WHO YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW that life is unfair?
Did you assume, based on the new car, that I have been even a little bit successful, and did it make you so angry that you needed to cut me down (or cut my car with your key, as it were) so you wouldn't feel like such a complete failure?
How would you feel if you worked really hard for something, and then within three weeks of getting it, someone ruined it?
I just want you to know that I forgive you (but only because I am required to do so). Whatever has happened to you that made you so hateful, that turned your heart into such an abyss of blackness, that stripped you of any conscience whatsoever, must have been so much more terrible than the foot-long scratch you inflicted on my unsuspecting (and previously unblemished) door. So I feel pity for you. I hope you gain a soul sometime in this life.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Dear God, It's Me, Nicole.
Nothing else matters when you are faced with the harsh reality that your parents will be gone someday. That you will one day mourn the loss of the first two people you ever loved.
In 1998 my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She has always been a strong, healthy woman, so it was no surprise to anyone when she fought it and won. Until 2002. When the doctors told us that it had come back. With even stronger resolve than the first time, she fought back again. And so far, she is winning. But until the doctors tell us that she is officially in remission, I live everyday in fear that my mom might not be there when my first child is born.
My father has been her rock, ever stronger for her, ever more supportive of her, ever more loving. Their faith and their relationship continually strengthened by this test. He has always been, and is still, my hero.
Which is why it came as a great shock to me this evening when he told me he has prostate cancer. How could this man, who I have idealized all my life, be fallible? Equally inconceivable to me is the thought that my daddy might not be there to walk me down the aisle someday.
And this, mere weeks after learning that my cousin, who is my age and one of my dearest friends, has just had her own brush with skin cancer.
At this moment, I cannot imagine how I am going to deal with this. They say "prepare for the worst, but hope for the best." But I refuse to accept this. I refuse to even entertain the idea that I could lose both parents so early in life. And yet at the same time, I am forced to realize that life is so fragile. That we may not have as much time as we once thought.
Friends in blogland, tell your parents you love them today. Tell your children you love them. And if you have ever been religious in your life, please pray for my papa. Thanks.
In 1998 my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She has always been a strong, healthy woman, so it was no surprise to anyone when she fought it and won. Until 2002. When the doctors told us that it had come back. With even stronger resolve than the first time, she fought back again. And so far, she is winning. But until the doctors tell us that she is officially in remission, I live everyday in fear that my mom might not be there when my first child is born.
My father has been her rock, ever stronger for her, ever more supportive of her, ever more loving. Their faith and their relationship continually strengthened by this test. He has always been, and is still, my hero.
Which is why it came as a great shock to me this evening when he told me he has prostate cancer. How could this man, who I have idealized all my life, be fallible? Equally inconceivable to me is the thought that my daddy might not be there to walk me down the aisle someday.
And this, mere weeks after learning that my cousin, who is my age and one of my dearest friends, has just had her own brush with skin cancer.
At this moment, I cannot imagine how I am going to deal with this. They say "prepare for the worst, but hope for the best." But I refuse to accept this. I refuse to even entertain the idea that I could lose both parents so early in life. And yet at the same time, I am forced to realize that life is so fragile. That we may not have as much time as we once thought.
Friends in blogland, tell your parents you love them today. Tell your children you love them. And if you have ever been religious in your life, please pray for my papa. Thanks.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
Unrelated
As a teenager, one of my primary household chores was to babysit my four younger siblings so my parents could go on a date or sometimes just run errands. Why they continued to entrust me with this responsibility when so often things went horribly wrong, I still do not understand. But I was less expensive than outsourcing the babysitting duties (you didn't think I did it for free, did you?), so maybe that's how they justified it.
On this particular instance, my five-year-old baby sister had an extreme case of brattiness (not unusual for her at that time). In all my 13-year-old wisdom I decided that it would be fun for the three boys and I to gang up on her and teach her a lesson. I think most of us have told a sibling that they were adopted at some point or another. But we took it much too far. What ensued got me grounded for two months, and left emotional scars for which I don't think she has yet forgiven me. Here is how it played out:
Me: You know, you're adopted. Mom and dad aren't your real parents. If you don't stop being such a brat, I'm going to call the orphanage and have them take you back. Because we don't want a bratty little sister anymore.
Sister: [screaming, and starting to cry] I'm not adopted!
Me: Oh, yes you are. Just ask any of the boys. They know, too.
[All three boys confirm this sad, sad truth.]
Sister: [crying harder] Even if I am adopted, mom and dad don't want to get rid of me.
Me: Well, I'm in charge right now, so what I say goes. Besides, mom and dad don't want you around anymore because you're such a brat.
Sister: [crying harder still] You don't even know the phone number for the orphanage!
Me: Sure I do, it's 555-TAKE. (wasn't I clever?)
Sister: I don't believe you!
Me: You'll see, I'm not kidding. [I pick up the phone and dial, pretending to talk to the orphanage and asking them to take her back right away.] You better go get packed.
[At this point, my sister is crying uncontrollably. One of my brothers comes down the stairs with her suitcase, packed. Another brother sneaks around the house to the front door and rings the doorbell.]
Me: They're here for you. Say goodbye to everyone. You have to leave now.
[Now she is screaming and crying so hard that she is hyperventilating and turning blue in the face. At this very moment, my parents arrive home. She runs to them and tells the whole story, and I get in major trouble for masterminding this whole plan.]
I realize this story doesn't paint a very good picture of me. And it's true, I certainly wouldn't have won Sister-of-the-Year for most of my teenage years. But we all laugh about it now, because there was no permanent damage done, no therapy required. And thankfully, we're all really close now, despite many an incident of this very type.
On this particular instance, my five-year-old baby sister had an extreme case of brattiness (not unusual for her at that time). In all my 13-year-old wisdom I decided that it would be fun for the three boys and I to gang up on her and teach her a lesson. I think most of us have told a sibling that they were adopted at some point or another. But we took it much too far. What ensued got me grounded for two months, and left emotional scars for which I don't think she has yet forgiven me. Here is how it played out:
Me: You know, you're adopted. Mom and dad aren't your real parents. If you don't stop being such a brat, I'm going to call the orphanage and have them take you back. Because we don't want a bratty little sister anymore.
Sister: [screaming, and starting to cry] I'm not adopted!
Me: Oh, yes you are. Just ask any of the boys. They know, too.
[All three boys confirm this sad, sad truth.]
Sister: [crying harder] Even if I am adopted, mom and dad don't want to get rid of me.
Me: Well, I'm in charge right now, so what I say goes. Besides, mom and dad don't want you around anymore because you're such a brat.
Sister: [crying harder still] You don't even know the phone number for the orphanage!
Me: Sure I do, it's 555-TAKE. (wasn't I clever?)
Sister: I don't believe you!
Me: You'll see, I'm not kidding. [I pick up the phone and dial, pretending to talk to the orphanage and asking them to take her back right away.] You better go get packed.
[At this point, my sister is crying uncontrollably. One of my brothers comes down the stairs with her suitcase, packed. Another brother sneaks around the house to the front door and rings the doorbell.]
Me: They're here for you. Say goodbye to everyone. You have to leave now.
[Now she is screaming and crying so hard that she is hyperventilating and turning blue in the face. At this very moment, my parents arrive home. She runs to them and tells the whole story, and I get in major trouble for masterminding this whole plan.]
I realize this story doesn't paint a very good picture of me. And it's true, I certainly wouldn't have won Sister-of-the-Year for most of my teenage years. But we all laugh about it now, because there was no permanent damage done, no therapy required. And thankfully, we're all really close now, despite many an incident of this very type.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Of sticks and stones
Let us all give thanks to Rico, for inspiring this little stroll down memory lane...
The scene: my childhood home in master-planned suburbia, circa 1993
The principal players: my youngest brother, myself, my mother, and a large handful of very helpful ambulance and hospital staff
It's funny how things can be so important at the time, but later you can't even remember the details. Like what school assignment I thought so important as to lock myself away in my bedroom while "babysitting" my four younger siblings, three of whom are boys, so my mom could do a bit of long-awaited and much-deserved shopping over this particular Christmas break.
Growing up with five children in the family, there was truly never a dull moment. Our house was always full of people and often full of noise, because we lived in the cool house. A trampoline in the big backyard. A pool less than 100 yards down the street. Cable. A constantly growing movie collection. Every Nintendo game known to child-kind. A pool table. A built-in basketball court on the driveway. A pantry and refrigerator stocked with all manner of goodies.
So I didn't find the noise of our full house on this particular day distracting. I was in my room, drowning out the pandemonium that could be heard throughout the rest of the house with my music and tending to my very important school project, as all good babysitters should do. But then, insolence! I was interrupted.
"Nikki!" screamed my youngest brother. "I got a splinter in my leg -- come help me!"
"Don't be such a baby!" I screamed back. "Go get the tweezers and take it out yourself!"
"But it's really big and it hurts really bad -- I need your help!" he insisted.
The nerve! I stormed out of my room to the entry hallway, where he and several other kids who could have been his friends or my other brothers (I can't remember) had been running and sliding on our hardwood floors. Remember how at age 10 we could find fun (and trouble) in the simplest things?
"Let me see it. I can't believe you're being such a baby."
So he proceeded to pull up the leg of his sweatpants to show me this "splinter."
And then... Stomach. In my throat. Room. Spinning. Blackness. Stars.
When I regained full consciousness, I saw a foot-long stick piercing my brother's leg. Yes, you read that right: PIERCING. It went in his knee and came out his calf.
You see, in California we have earthquakes. Big ones, sometimes. And occasionally, things settle. Like the ground. Or the boards comprising our hardwood floors. And when sliding on said floors, one must be careful not to catch an edge.
So I ran to the phone and called 9-1-1. They must've thought I was crazy.
911 Operator: 9-1-1, what is your emergency?
Me: My little brother has a splinter in his leg.
911: A splinter?
Me: Well, not really a splinter. More like a stick.
911: A stick? In his leg?
Me: Yes, it went right through his leg. From the knee to the calf. And it's stuck inside, sticking out both places.
[silence]
Me: Um, I'm pretty sure we need to go to the hospital to have it removed. We live at [insert address].
The ambulance arrived mere seconds before my mom got back. Now I'm not a mother or anything, but I'm pretty sure an ambulance in front of your house isn't exactly what you want to see when you return home.
But the story ends well. My parents went with my brother to the emergency room, where they had to do surgery to take the stick out. In three pieces. Of course, this left me to continue babysitting the other kids. Because, clearly, I was responsible enough to be trusted with that again.
Like I said, never a dull moment at my house.
The scene: my childhood home in master-planned suburbia, circa 1993
The principal players: my youngest brother, myself, my mother, and a large handful of very helpful ambulance and hospital staff
It's funny how things can be so important at the time, but later you can't even remember the details. Like what school assignment I thought so important as to lock myself away in my bedroom while "babysitting" my four younger siblings, three of whom are boys, so my mom could do a bit of long-awaited and much-deserved shopping over this particular Christmas break.
Growing up with five children in the family, there was truly never a dull moment. Our house was always full of people and often full of noise, because we lived in the cool house. A trampoline in the big backyard. A pool less than 100 yards down the street. Cable. A constantly growing movie collection. Every Nintendo game known to child-kind. A pool table. A built-in basketball court on the driveway. A pantry and refrigerator stocked with all manner of goodies.
So I didn't find the noise of our full house on this particular day distracting. I was in my room, drowning out the pandemonium that could be heard throughout the rest of the house with my music and tending to my very important school project, as all good babysitters should do. But then, insolence! I was interrupted.
"Nikki!" screamed my youngest brother. "I got a splinter in my leg -- come help me!"
"Don't be such a baby!" I screamed back. "Go get the tweezers and take it out yourself!"
"But it's really big and it hurts really bad -- I need your help!" he insisted.
The nerve! I stormed out of my room to the entry hallway, where he and several other kids who could have been his friends or my other brothers (I can't remember) had been running and sliding on our hardwood floors. Remember how at age 10 we could find fun (and trouble) in the simplest things?
"Let me see it. I can't believe you're being such a baby."
So he proceeded to pull up the leg of his sweatpants to show me this "splinter."
And then... Stomach. In my throat. Room. Spinning. Blackness. Stars.
When I regained full consciousness, I saw a foot-long stick piercing my brother's leg. Yes, you read that right: PIERCING. It went in his knee and came out his calf.
You see, in California we have earthquakes. Big ones, sometimes. And occasionally, things settle. Like the ground. Or the boards comprising our hardwood floors. And when sliding on said floors, one must be careful not to catch an edge.
So I ran to the phone and called 9-1-1. They must've thought I was crazy.
911 Operator: 9-1-1, what is your emergency?
Me: My little brother has a splinter in his leg.
911: A splinter?
Me: Well, not really a splinter. More like a stick.
911: A stick? In his leg?
Me: Yes, it went right through his leg. From the knee to the calf. And it's stuck inside, sticking out both places.
[silence]
Me: Um, I'm pretty sure we need to go to the hospital to have it removed. We live at [insert address].
The ambulance arrived mere seconds before my mom got back. Now I'm not a mother or anything, but I'm pretty sure an ambulance in front of your house isn't exactly what you want to see when you return home.
But the story ends well. My parents went with my brother to the emergency room, where they had to do surgery to take the stick out. In three pieces. Of course, this left me to continue babysitting the other kids. Because, clearly, I was responsible enough to be trusted with that again.
Like I said, never a dull moment at my house.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Humor at the Expense of Others
AKA Lessons in Proofreading
I know. You've probably seen some of these before. And maybe it's weak sauce that I didn't make up something funny of my own. But for some reason, these made me laugh out loud at home by myself when I came across them again today. So I felt compelled to share. Enjoy!
Headlines
Something Went Wrong in Jet Crash, Expert Says
Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers
Panda Mating Fails; Veterinarian Takes Over
Miners Refuse to Work After Death
Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant
War Dims Hope for Peace
If Strike isn’t Settled Quickly, It May Last Awhile
Cold Wave Linked to Temperatures
Enfield (London) Couple Slain; Police Suspect Homicide
Red Tape Holds Up New Bridges
Man Struck by Lightning Faces Battery Charge
New Study of Obesity Looks for Larger Test Group
Astronaut Takes Blame for Gas in Spacecraft
Kids Make Nutritious Snacks
Local High School Dropouts Cut in Half
Hospitals are Sued by 7 Foot Doctors
Typhoon Rips through Cemetery; Hundreds Dead
Signs
(in an office restroom) Toilet out of order…Please use floor below.
(in a laundromat) Automatic Washing Machines: Please remove all your clothes when the light goes out.
(in a London department store) Bargain Basement Upstairs
(in an office) Would the person who took the step ladder yesterday please bring it back or further steps will be taken.
(in an office) After tea break, staff should empty the teapot and stand upside down on the draining board.
(in a secondhand shop) We exchange anything – bicycles, washing machines, etc. Why not bring your wife along and get a wonderful bargain?
(on the window of a health food shop) Closed Due to Illness
(found in a safari park) Elephants Please Stay in Your Car
(at a conference) For anyone who has children and doesn’t know it, there is a day care on the 1st floor.
(near a farmer’s field) The farmer allows walkers to cross the field for free, but the bull charges.
(on the door of a repair shop) We can fix anything. (Please knock hard on the door – the bell doesn’t work.)
Church Bulletins
Don’t let worry kill you – let the church help.
Thursday night - Potluck supper. Prayer and medication to follow.
Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our church and community.
For those of you who have children and don't know it, we have a nursery downstairs.
This afternoon there will be a meeting in the South and North ends of the church. Children will be baptized at both ends.
Tuesday at 4:00 PM there will be an ice cream social.. All ladies giving milk will please come early.
This being Easter Sunday, we will ask Mrs. Lewis to come forward and lay an egg on the alter.
The service will close with "Little Drops of Water." One of the ladies will start quietly and the rest of the congregation will join in.
Next Sunday a special collection will be taken to defray the cost of the new carpet. All those wishing to do something on the new carpet will come forward and do so.
The ladies of the church have cast off clothing of every kind. They can be seen in the church basement Saturday.
A bean supper will be held on Tuesday evening in the church hall. Music will follow.
Weight Watchers will meet at 7 p.m. at the First Presbyterian Church. Please use large double door at the side entrance.
The senior choir invites any member of the congregation who enjoys sinning to join the choir.
Please join us as we show our support for Amy and Alan in preparing for the girth of their first child.
Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.
The associate minister unveiled the church's new giving campaign slogan last Sunday: "I Upped My Pledge--Up Yours."
8 new choir robes are currently needed, due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.
The outreach committee has enlisted 25 visitors to make calls on people who are not afflicted with any church.
Ushers will eat late comers.
The Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10. All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B.S. is done.
Evening massage - 6 p.m.
The Pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday morning.
The audience is asked to remain seated until the end of the recession.
Low Self-Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 to 8:30 p.m. Please use the back door.
The third verse of Blessed Assurance will be sung without musical accomplishment.
The Rev. Merriwether spoke briefly, much to the delight of the audience.
The pastor will preach his farewell message, after which the choir will sing, "Break Forth Into Joy."
During the absence of our pastor, we enjoyed the rare privilege of hearing a good sermon when J. F. Stubbs supplied our pulpit.
Next Sunday Mrs. Vinson will be soloist for the morning service. The pastor will then speak on "It's a Terrible Experience."
Due to the Rector's illness, Wednesday's healing services will be discontinued until further notice.
Stewardship Offertory: "Jesus Paid It All"
The music for today's service was all composed by George Friedrich Handel in celebration of the 300th anniversary of his birth.
The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare's Hamlet in the church basement on Friday at 7 p.m. The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.
On a church bulletin during the minister's illness: GOD IS GOOD Dr. Hargreaves is better.
The concert held in Fellowship Hall was a great success. Special thanks are due to the minister's daughter, who labored the whole evening at the piano, which as usual fell upon her.
The 1997 Spring Council Retreat will be hell May 10 and 11.
Pastor is on vacation. Massages can be given to church secretary.
22 members were present at the church meeting held at the home of Mrs. Marsha Crutchfield last evening. Mrs. Crutchfield and Mrs. Rankin sang a duet, The Lord Knows Why.
A song fest was hell at the Methodist church Wednesday.
At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be "What is Hell?" Come early and listen to our choir practice.
Ladies, don't forget the rummage sale. It is a good chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Bring your husbands.
Next Thursday, there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can get.
Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on Oct. 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in school days.
I know. You've probably seen some of these before. And maybe it's weak sauce that I didn't make up something funny of my own. But for some reason, these made me laugh out loud at home by myself when I came across them again today. So I felt compelled to share. Enjoy!
Headlines
Something Went Wrong in Jet Crash, Expert Says
Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers
Panda Mating Fails; Veterinarian Takes Over
Miners Refuse to Work After Death
Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant
War Dims Hope for Peace
If Strike isn’t Settled Quickly, It May Last Awhile
Cold Wave Linked to Temperatures
Enfield (London) Couple Slain; Police Suspect Homicide
Red Tape Holds Up New Bridges
Man Struck by Lightning Faces Battery Charge
New Study of Obesity Looks for Larger Test Group
Astronaut Takes Blame for Gas in Spacecraft
Kids Make Nutritious Snacks
Local High School Dropouts Cut in Half
Hospitals are Sued by 7 Foot Doctors
Typhoon Rips through Cemetery; Hundreds Dead
Signs
(in an office restroom) Toilet out of order…Please use floor below.
(in a laundromat) Automatic Washing Machines: Please remove all your clothes when the light goes out.
(in a London department store) Bargain Basement Upstairs
(in an office) Would the person who took the step ladder yesterday please bring it back or further steps will be taken.
(in an office) After tea break, staff should empty the teapot and stand upside down on the draining board.
(in a secondhand shop) We exchange anything – bicycles, washing machines, etc. Why not bring your wife along and get a wonderful bargain?
(on the window of a health food shop) Closed Due to Illness
(found in a safari park) Elephants Please Stay in Your Car
(at a conference) For anyone who has children and doesn’t know it, there is a day care on the 1st floor.
(near a farmer’s field) The farmer allows walkers to cross the field for free, but the bull charges.
(on the door of a repair shop) We can fix anything. (Please knock hard on the door – the bell doesn’t work.)
Church Bulletins
Don’t let worry kill you – let the church help.
Thursday night - Potluck supper. Prayer and medication to follow.
Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our church and community.
For those of you who have children and don't know it, we have a nursery downstairs.
This afternoon there will be a meeting in the South and North ends of the church. Children will be baptized at both ends.
Tuesday at 4:00 PM there will be an ice cream social.. All ladies giving milk will please come early.
This being Easter Sunday, we will ask Mrs. Lewis to come forward and lay an egg on the alter.
The service will close with "Little Drops of Water." One of the ladies will start quietly and the rest of the congregation will join in.
Next Sunday a special collection will be taken to defray the cost of the new carpet. All those wishing to do something on the new carpet will come forward and do so.
The ladies of the church have cast off clothing of every kind. They can be seen in the church basement Saturday.
A bean supper will be held on Tuesday evening in the church hall. Music will follow.
Weight Watchers will meet at 7 p.m. at the First Presbyterian Church. Please use large double door at the side entrance.
The senior choir invites any member of the congregation who enjoys sinning to join the choir.
Please join us as we show our support for Amy and Alan in preparing for the girth of their first child.
Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.
The associate minister unveiled the church's new giving campaign slogan last Sunday: "I Upped My Pledge--Up Yours."
8 new choir robes are currently needed, due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.
The outreach committee has enlisted 25 visitors to make calls on people who are not afflicted with any church.
Ushers will eat late comers.
The Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10. All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B.S. is done.
Evening massage - 6 p.m.
The Pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday morning.
The audience is asked to remain seated until the end of the recession.
Low Self-Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 to 8:30 p.m. Please use the back door.
The third verse of Blessed Assurance will be sung without musical accomplishment.
The Rev. Merriwether spoke briefly, much to the delight of the audience.
The pastor will preach his farewell message, after which the choir will sing, "Break Forth Into Joy."
During the absence of our pastor, we enjoyed the rare privilege of hearing a good sermon when J. F. Stubbs supplied our pulpit.
Next Sunday Mrs. Vinson will be soloist for the morning service. The pastor will then speak on "It's a Terrible Experience."
Due to the Rector's illness, Wednesday's healing services will be discontinued until further notice.
Stewardship Offertory: "Jesus Paid It All"
The music for today's service was all composed by George Friedrich Handel in celebration of the 300th anniversary of his birth.
The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare's Hamlet in the church basement on Friday at 7 p.m. The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.
On a church bulletin during the minister's illness: GOD IS GOOD Dr. Hargreaves is better.
The concert held in Fellowship Hall was a great success. Special thanks are due to the minister's daughter, who labored the whole evening at the piano, which as usual fell upon her.
The 1997 Spring Council Retreat will be hell May 10 and 11.
Pastor is on vacation. Massages can be given to church secretary.
22 members were present at the church meeting held at the home of Mrs. Marsha Crutchfield last evening. Mrs. Crutchfield and Mrs. Rankin sang a duet, The Lord Knows Why.
A song fest was hell at the Methodist church Wednesday.
At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be "What is Hell?" Come early and listen to our choir practice.
Ladies, don't forget the rummage sale. It is a good chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Bring your husbands.
Next Thursday, there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can get.
Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on Oct. 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in school days.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
And the winner is...
Undercover Celebrity.
For the rest of you, here are the answers from yesterday's game:
- Wadsworth, Clue
- Elle Woods, Legally Blonde
- Ralphie as an Adult/Narrator, A Christmas Story
- Bill Lumbergh, Office Space
- Old Woman in Deli, When Harry Met Sally
- Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the Carribbean
- Sherri Ann Cabot, Best in Show
- Vivian, Pretty Woman
- Xander Cage, xXx
- Ralphie as an Adult/Narrator, A Christmas Story
- Cher Horowitz, Clueless
- Milton, Office Space
- Elle Woods, Legally Blonde
- Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the Carribbean
- Will, Good Will Hunting
- Mr. Green, Clue
Monday, August 15, 2005
Why I prefer to buy movies instead of renting...
...because then I can watch them over and over when I'm home sick from work, learning some of my favorite lines to quote in everyday speech.
Since I'm stuck in bed all day today, let's turn it into a game, just for fun. Here are some movie quotes that have recently amused me. Try to guess the character and the movie (leave your guesses in the comments). I'll provide the answers in a later post. Bon chance!
- "...the double negative has led to proof positive. I'm afraid you gave yourself away." (1985)
- "I just don't think that Brooke could've done this. Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don't kill their husbands. They just don't." (2001)
- "NOW it was serious. A double-dog-dare. What else was there but a 'triple dare ya'? And then, the coup de grace of all dares, the sinister triple-dog-dare." (1983)
- "Hello Peter, what's happening?...I'm going to have to go ahead and ask you to come in on Sunday..." (1999)
- "I'll have what she's having." (1989)
- "You need to find yourself a girl, mate. Or perhaps the reason you practice three hours a day is that you already found one, and are otherwise incapable of wooing said strumpet. You're not a eunuch, are you?" (2003)
- "People say 'oh, but he's so much older than you' and you know what, I'm the one having to push him away. We have so much in common, we both love soup and snow peas, we love the outdoors, and talking and not talking. We could not talk or talk forever and still find things to not talk about." (2000)
- "In case I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time tonight." (1990)
- "The things I'm gonna do for my country." (2002)
- "Aunt Clara had for years not only perpetually labored under the delusion that I was 4 years old, but also a girl." (1983)
- "Daddy's a litigator. Those are the scariest kind of lawyer. Even Lucy, our maid, is terrified of him. And daddy's so good he gets $500 an hour to fight with people. But he fights with me for free because I'm his daughter." (1995)
- "...they've moved my desk four times already this year, and I used to be over by the window, and I could see the squirrels, and they were merry, but then, they switched from the Swingline to the Boston stapler, but I kept my Swingline stapler because it didn't bind up as much, and I kept the staples for the Swingline stapler and it's not okay because if they take my stapler then I'll set the building on fire..." (1999)
- "The rules of hair care are simple and finite. Any Cosmo girl would have known." (2001)
- "I think we've all arrived at a very special place. Spiritually, ecumenically, grammatically." (2003)
- "...I got her number. How do you like them apples?" (1997)
- "They all did it. But if you wanna know who killed Mr. Boddy, I did. In the hall. With the revolver. All right, Chief, take'em away. I'm gonna go home and sleep with my wife." (1985)
Saturday, August 06, 2005
Why I Love Being an Aunt
My niece (aka, the cutest baby to ever walk the planet) just had her first birthday. Of course, this momentous occasion was commemorated at her first party, complete with her very own cake to dive into. Now, if you don't love this face, you are seriously dead inside.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Speechless
Well, voiceless, anyways. My vocal cords apparently have the stamina of a 13-year-old male virgin. I'm at a weeklong worship conference for church, and after two days of singing, I have absolutely no voice left. What's more, I have a voice lesson tomorrow with the best vocal coach. In all the world. The very man I've been dying to take a lesson from, even though I totally couldn't afford it, for over a year. Seth Riggs. And then, after a week of vocal overuse and the resulting fatigue, I have two gigs this weekend.
I shouldn't complain -- I'm fortunate to have so much work this month. Most musicians would love to have my schedule. But to do a show without a healthy voice is torture. Argh!
I shouldn't complain -- I'm fortunate to have so much work this month. Most musicians would love to have my schedule. But to do a show without a healthy voice is torture. Argh!
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
My first-ever CD was released last Saturday. Of course, this very limited release is not expected by anyone to go platinum, or even gold for that matter. But I don't have to tell you, especially since most of you who read this haven't heard me shut up about it since I started recording it, that I was incredibly excited. And although it is highly unlikely to win any Grammys, or lead to great fame or fortune, and although I remain a star only inside my own mind, I feel so richly blessed to have so many opportunities to do something I love, and to actually get paid to do it!
So I've decided to use this post to dedicate this, my debut album, with overflowing gratitude first to God, for giving me this talent and the opportunities to discover and develop it. To my parents, for always believing in and supporting me. To Pete and Christi, for challenging me and teaching me how to constantly improve my voice. To Kara, for the countless hours spent together in our youth singing around the piano, and then for marrying Pete's son and having Emma, thereby allowing me this amazing opportunity. To Shannon, for getting me to sing again after the near atrophy of my vocal chords, even if it was at the Foxfire. To Shadd, for insisting that I sign your copy of the CD as if I was a big star. To T, J, D, J, J, J, and P, for being so patient and understanding of my schedule over the past year, even when it would conflict with our plans. To Gracie, for enduring many nights when mommy wasn't home. And to all of my friends and family who love me even when I use the word "gig". Cheers!
So I've decided to use this post to dedicate this, my debut album, with overflowing gratitude first to God, for giving me this talent and the opportunities to discover and develop it. To my parents, for always believing in and supporting me. To Pete and Christi, for challenging me and teaching me how to constantly improve my voice. To Kara, for the countless hours spent together in our youth singing around the piano, and then for marrying Pete's son and having Emma, thereby allowing me this amazing opportunity. To Shannon, for getting me to sing again after the near atrophy of my vocal chords, even if it was at the Foxfire. To Shadd, for insisting that I sign your copy of the CD as if I was a big star. To T, J, D, J, J, J, and P, for being so patient and understanding of my schedule over the past year, even when it would conflict with our plans. To Gracie, for enduring many nights when mommy wasn't home. And to all of my friends and family who love me even when I use the word "gig". Cheers!
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Afternoon Tee Party
I fear the amusement of this afternoon will come at my own expense.
You see, this morning I shook off the dust and cobwebs from my golf clubs, which have been severely neglected for the last 16 months. And now, after letting my golf muscles (and any skill that I might have possessed in my former life when I golfed somewhat regularly) atrophy to the point where I'm not even sure I remember how to hold the club, I am supposed to play with someone who I want to impress. I can only hope that he'll have a sense of humor as I try to remember how to swing that thing so that it makes contact with the ball. Or as I search endlessly for my ball in the trees. Or as I pull out flip-flops from my bag so I can at least be comfortable during the hours I will surely spend in the sand.
I'm quite sure I'll achieve the highest score. (Not a good thing, for all you non-golfers.) Should make for entertaining stories, anyways. Fore!
You see, this morning I shook off the dust and cobwebs from my golf clubs, which have been severely neglected for the last 16 months. And now, after letting my golf muscles (and any skill that I might have possessed in my former life when I golfed somewhat regularly) atrophy to the point where I'm not even sure I remember how to hold the club, I am supposed to play with someone who I want to impress. I can only hope that he'll have a sense of humor as I try to remember how to swing that thing so that it makes contact with the ball. Or as I search endlessly for my ball in the trees. Or as I pull out flip-flops from my bag so I can at least be comfortable during the hours I will surely spend in the sand.
I'm quite sure I'll achieve the highest score. (Not a good thing, for all you non-golfers.) Should make for entertaining stories, anyways. Fore!
Thursday, June 02, 2005
An Interview With My Favorite Celebrity
I simply couldn't resist playing, now that the "about me" questions have inevitably evolved from email to blog. And so, for your reading pleasure, my responses to the interview questions posed by my favorite celebrity:
1. Name your favorite 80's teen icon.
Ah, the 80s -- so full of iconic teens, many of whom unknowingly found their way onto the walls of my peach-and-mint-green-adorned bedroom. With so many worthy candidates, I think it's only fair to crown a king and queen in this category. And the winners are...
King: Kirk Cameron
Queen: Elisabeth Shue
2. If you were a boy, what were your parents going to name you?
I'm not sure my parents even considered such a notion. Based on logic alone, it would seem to be a toss-up between the masculine form of my name, Nicholas, and my first brother's name, Richard. But I'd hope that it would have been something more interesting, like Jean-Pierre.
3. If today were groundhog's day (like the Bill Murray movie) what would you have done differently, knowing that you could re-do it tomorrow?
I'd have blown off work, rescued M from the prison that his office has lately become, and spent some quality time together, something that has been regrettably difficult to do these last few weeks. We'd enjoy lunch and a nap while soaking up some sun at the beach, then head to my all-time favorite amusement park for some rollercoaster-riding fun. Then we'd have a lovely dinner, discussing over a bottle of wine how great it is that we can wake up tomorrow and still have jobs, despite this little escapade, and then we'd catch a show -- maybe at the comedy club, maybe a concert, or maybe a musical. We'd end the day with a rematch of Trivial Pursuit. And this time, I'd win because it's my groundhog's day, dammit!
4. If your name no longer contained letters, only numbers, what would you go by?
512153914... 3914 for short... bonus points for anyone who can figure out the super-difficult secret code without the help of your decoder ring.
5. What's the worst lie you ever told and got caught for? - I won't make you "out" yourself on a lie that no one's discovered.
Not unlike most teenagers, I thought I was so much cleverer than my parents. My girlfriends and I created a chain of lies that was clearly unbreakable, because, after all, our parents were complete fools, right?! I was sleeping at Kara's... Kara was sleeping at Wendy's... Wendy at Kathy's... Kathy at Jannell's... Jannell at Sam's... Sam at Melissa's... Melissa at Kristine's... and Kristine at my house. (Are you amazed at the genius of our young minds?!) Problem was, it was prom night. And we, of course, were all going to a hotel party after the dance. In the morning, we awoke to an irate phone call from my father. Which parents broke our unbreakable chain of lies, I'll never know. But I'll never forget the look in my father's eyes when my boyfriend dropped me off that morning -- a combination of fierce anger and severe disappointment. I've not lied to him since.
_____________________________________
Want to play?
The Official Interview Game Rules:
1. If you want to participate, leave a comment below saying "interview me."
2. I will respond by asking you five questions -- each person's will be different.
3. You will update your journal/blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
1. Name your favorite 80's teen icon.
Ah, the 80s -- so full of iconic teens, many of whom unknowingly found their way onto the walls of my peach-and-mint-green-adorned bedroom. With so many worthy candidates, I think it's only fair to crown a king and queen in this category. And the winners are...
King: Kirk Cameron
Queen: Elisabeth Shue
2. If you were a boy, what were your parents going to name you?
I'm not sure my parents even considered such a notion. Based on logic alone, it would seem to be a toss-up between the masculine form of my name, Nicholas, and my first brother's name, Richard. But I'd hope that it would have been something more interesting, like Jean-Pierre.
3. If today were groundhog's day (like the Bill Murray movie) what would you have done differently, knowing that you could re-do it tomorrow?
I'd have blown off work, rescued M from the prison that his office has lately become, and spent some quality time together, something that has been regrettably difficult to do these last few weeks. We'd enjoy lunch and a nap while soaking up some sun at the beach, then head to my all-time favorite amusement park for some rollercoaster-riding fun. Then we'd have a lovely dinner, discussing over a bottle of wine how great it is that we can wake up tomorrow and still have jobs, despite this little escapade, and then we'd catch a show -- maybe at the comedy club, maybe a concert, or maybe a musical. We'd end the day with a rematch of Trivial Pursuit. And this time, I'd win because it's my groundhog's day, dammit!
4. If your name no longer contained letters, only numbers, what would you go by?
512153914... 3914 for short... bonus points for anyone who can figure out the super-difficult secret code without the help of your decoder ring.
5. What's the worst lie you ever told and got caught for? - I won't make you "out" yourself on a lie that no one's discovered.
Not unlike most teenagers, I thought I was so much cleverer than my parents. My girlfriends and I created a chain of lies that was clearly unbreakable, because, after all, our parents were complete fools, right?! I was sleeping at Kara's... Kara was sleeping at Wendy's... Wendy at Kathy's... Kathy at Jannell's... Jannell at Sam's... Sam at Melissa's... Melissa at Kristine's... and Kristine at my house. (Are you amazed at the genius of our young minds?!) Problem was, it was prom night. And we, of course, were all going to a hotel party after the dance. In the morning, we awoke to an irate phone call from my father. Which parents broke our unbreakable chain of lies, I'll never know. But I'll never forget the look in my father's eyes when my boyfriend dropped me off that morning -- a combination of fierce anger and severe disappointment. I've not lied to him since.
_____________________________________
Want to play?
The Official Interview Game Rules:
1. If you want to participate, leave a comment below saying "interview me."
2. I will respond by asking you five questions -- each person's will be different.
3. You will update your journal/blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
All Grown Up
As she walked gracefully down the petal-laden steps to become my sister-in-law, his smile extended from ear to ear and his eyes filled up with tender tears. She was beautiful. And about to be his forever. Happiness, love, excitement, and a slight sense of disbelief filled the thick South Carolina air last Saturday afternoon.
I can't believe how grown up he is. Although we are separated by little more than a year, he is still my little brother. The little brother who I played with and fought with. The little brother who I have always loved. The little brother who I worried about for so many years. The little brother who I prayed would be kept safe. The little brother who I always believed was an incredible person with a huge heart. The little brother whose life has so dramatically changed in the last few years.
And I'm so proud of him. I'm proud of the amazing man he has become. I'm proud of the life he has chosen. I'm proud to call him not only my brother, but also a friend.
There are not appropriate words to express my emotions that day. Perhaps words will eventually come, but for now I will just say that I love you, little brother, more than you know. That I'm proud of you. That I thank God every day for keeping you safe. And that I am so excited for the new life that awaits you and your lovely bride.
I can't believe how grown up he is. Although we are separated by little more than a year, he is still my little brother. The little brother who I played with and fought with. The little brother who I have always loved. The little brother who I worried about for so many years. The little brother who I prayed would be kept safe. The little brother who I always believed was an incredible person with a huge heart. The little brother whose life has so dramatically changed in the last few years.
And I'm so proud of him. I'm proud of the amazing man he has become. I'm proud of the life he has chosen. I'm proud to call him not only my brother, but also a friend.
There are not appropriate words to express my emotions that day. Perhaps words will eventually come, but for now I will just say that I love you, little brother, more than you know. That I'm proud of you. That I thank God every day for keeping you safe. And that I am so excited for the new life that awaits you and your lovely bride.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Southern Comfort
Oh, the dangerous charm of the Texas accent of a tall, dark, and handsome stranger... and I'll just leave it at that for tonight -- more details to follow.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Please Wipe Your Feet
So JS still wants to go to church with me, because K (the ex-turned-girlfriend-but-inevitably-soon-to-be-ex-yet-again) is apparently an atheist or agnostic or some other thing that is absolutely incompatible with a Christian. He said he feels like it's "our" church (mine and his) and that it didn't feel right to be there with her.
How very curious. Do you think that maybe she didn't want to be there in the first place? That it was nothing more than a ploy to make you believe she had changed on this very important and divisive issue? Didn't it seem at all strange that she never wanted to go to church, and had successfully convinced you not to go either, until you broke up and she found out that you were going without her -- and, in fact, that you were going with me? And so many other glaring examples of how she controls him and manipulates him into choosing a relationship with her over a relationship with God. But I digress.
So he wanted to continue going with me. Having begun this spiritual journey together, this part of our relationship was very special to me. And I didn't want his growth to stop just because she wouldn't go with him. So I foolishly agreed. I thought it was the right thing to do. I was sure that I could be strong enough to be his friend. We made plans to go to services together. We signed up for classes. We talked about getting baptized.
Then yesterday, after what by my count was the ninth time he had cancelled, I entered into the anger stage of the grieving process. Of course I miss him (the him I knew, not the him he's become now that they are back together, which I assure you is a completely different him, and one who I quite frankly don't like very much). Of course I wish things were different. But I realized that he is essentially carrying on one "perfect" relationship with two people. There are the things about her that he thinks he loves (although from what I've heard from his friends, this list can't possibly be very long), and then he has with me the things he knows he wants. And I'm enabling this destructive behavior. Because every time he is unhappy with her, I am there to make him happy again. And every time he is frustrated by their relationship, I am there with a relationship that is so much less work. And every time they break up, I am there for him. And this is a one-way ticket to nowhere. For all three of us. Because true fulfillment should be found in one person. Not two.
After realizing that I have become a doormat for his dirty feet, and after realizing that this, regrettably, was not the first time I had been so accomodating of someone else's needs that I found myself trampled by their boots, I decided it was time to start standing up for myself. To recognize that this is not a characteristic of a healthy or normal relationship. To declare that I deserve better -- more respect, more consideration.
My dear friends, you will all be relieved to know that I will no longer be in contact with JS. That he cannot cause me any more pain. That you won't have to hear about it anymore. I may still be sad at times, because I didn't want it to end like this. I may still cry on occasion, because, despite the flaws revealed out of my heartache over the last few weeks, there are some wonderful things about him that I will really miss. But I can't change his mind and I care too much about him to watch him hurt himself anymore.
So to my dear JS -- adieu. I pray the Lord your soul to keep -- lest your faith be sucked out by the godless witch*.
*I hereby reserve the right to hate her just a little bit until I'm completely done healing.
How very curious. Do you think that maybe she didn't want to be there in the first place? That it was nothing more than a ploy to make you believe she had changed on this very important and divisive issue? Didn't it seem at all strange that she never wanted to go to church, and had successfully convinced you not to go either, until you broke up and she found out that you were going without her -- and, in fact, that you were going with me? And so many other glaring examples of how she controls him and manipulates him into choosing a relationship with her over a relationship with God. But I digress.
So he wanted to continue going with me. Having begun this spiritual journey together, this part of our relationship was very special to me. And I didn't want his growth to stop just because she wouldn't go with him. So I foolishly agreed. I thought it was the right thing to do. I was sure that I could be strong enough to be his friend. We made plans to go to services together. We signed up for classes. We talked about getting baptized.
Then yesterday, after what by my count was the ninth time he had cancelled, I entered into the anger stage of the grieving process. Of course I miss him (the him I knew, not the him he's become now that they are back together, which I assure you is a completely different him, and one who I quite frankly don't like very much). Of course I wish things were different. But I realized that he is essentially carrying on one "perfect" relationship with two people. There are the things about her that he thinks he loves (although from what I've heard from his friends, this list can't possibly be very long), and then he has with me the things he knows he wants. And I'm enabling this destructive behavior. Because every time he is unhappy with her, I am there to make him happy again. And every time he is frustrated by their relationship, I am there with a relationship that is so much less work. And every time they break up, I am there for him. And this is a one-way ticket to nowhere. For all three of us. Because true fulfillment should be found in one person. Not two.
After realizing that I have become a doormat for his dirty feet, and after realizing that this, regrettably, was not the first time I had been so accomodating of someone else's needs that I found myself trampled by their boots, I decided it was time to start standing up for myself. To recognize that this is not a characteristic of a healthy or normal relationship. To declare that I deserve better -- more respect, more consideration.
My dear friends, you will all be relieved to know that I will no longer be in contact with JS. That he cannot cause me any more pain. That you won't have to hear about it anymore. I may still be sad at times, because I didn't want it to end like this. I may still cry on occasion, because, despite the flaws revealed out of my heartache over the last few weeks, there are some wonderful things about him that I will really miss. But I can't change his mind and I care too much about him to watch him hurt himself anymore.
So to my dear JS -- adieu. I pray the Lord your soul to keep -- lest your faith be sucked out by the godless witch*.
*I hereby reserve the right to hate her just a little bit until I'm completely done healing.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Sick
"I cannot go to work today,"
Said Nic, while in her bed she lay.
"I have a hole in my stomach wall,
It hurts just lying in a ball.
My tummy's empty, my mouth is dry,
I really fear that I may die.
I'm nauseous and I don't feel well,
I've counted sixteen heaving spells
And there's one more--that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My finger's cut--my eyes are blue--
It can't just be the stomach flu.
Each time I gag, I gasp and choke,
I'm sure my heart's irreparably broke--
My head hurts when I move too fast,
Oh, how much longer must this last?
My back is wrenched, my throat, it burns,
To just feel healthy, how I yearn.
My body's cold, my stomach aches.
I don't know how much I can take.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My belly's sore, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
I'm dizzy and I cannot hear,
I fear the end is drawing near.
I have a hangnail, and I feel like--what?
What's that? What's that you said?
You think it's all just in my head?
I wish it was, now I'm going back to bed."
Adapted from Shel Silverstein's "Sick" in Where the Sidewalk Ends.
Said Nic, while in her bed she lay.
"I have a hole in my stomach wall,
It hurts just lying in a ball.
My tummy's empty, my mouth is dry,
I really fear that I may die.
I'm nauseous and I don't feel well,
I've counted sixteen heaving spells
And there's one more--that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My finger's cut--my eyes are blue--
It can't just be the stomach flu.
Each time I gag, I gasp and choke,
I'm sure my heart's irreparably broke--
My head hurts when I move too fast,
Oh, how much longer must this last?
My back is wrenched, my throat, it burns,
To just feel healthy, how I yearn.
My body's cold, my stomach aches.
I don't know how much I can take.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My belly's sore, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
I'm dizzy and I cannot hear,
I fear the end is drawing near.
I have a hangnail, and I feel like--what?
What's that? What's that you said?
You think it's all just in my head?
I wish it was, now I'm going back to bed."
Adapted from Shel Silverstein's "Sick" in Where the Sidewalk Ends.
Monday, April 11, 2005
Grading on a Curve
Warning: This post is not worth reading. It is yet another futile attempt to explain my current heartache. To make it seem normal.
When I was in school, I was almost always that kid who scored 100% on an exam, throwing off the curve for everyone else. Luckily for me (so I wouldn't be hated all the time), the grading system was usually pretty straightforward. If you scored anywhere in the 90s, it was an A. In the 80s, a B. And so on. You had to score below 60 to fail.
Being the type-A that I am, this kind of rigid scale has always worked for me. Always made sense. There is logic. Constancy. Objectivity. Absolution. The possibility of actual perfection. Which is why I always preferred the true A to the inflated grades one receives when a curve is used. Why I didn't feel bad when I threw off said curve for the others who didn't study as fastidiously as I.
But in life, and most specifically in love, I find that the scale is nowhere near as predictable or precise. It is fickle. Complex. Multi-faceted. There is no formula for perfection. No single right answer. No proof of why things are as they are. There is a curve that is based on others' expectations of you, which are based on their opinion of and respect for you, which is often based on nothing solid at all. Or there is something of a reverse curve, where 99% is actually much worse than, say, 50%. Let me explain...
J and I dated for nearly four years. We were practically perfect for each other. Practically. There was just one thing that was missing. I have been assured that I will never know what that one thing was, so for the sake of making my point, I'll assign it a point value of 1. Which takes us from 100% to 99%.
D seemed at first to be wonderful. He treated me like a queen. But, as it turned out, he was a compulsive liar. Now, this is a major character flaw, so I'll take off extra points. Let's say 25. 75% - generally considered an average score, so I'm being generous here.
JT was fantastic. He was honest. He was fun. He was intelligent. But he, too, had a fatal flaw. He is in town for roughly 12 hours every month. Total. And sometimes those hours are not consecutive. A relationship is impossible when you only see each other once a month, so he lost 10 points. 90% - still an A by most standards.
M was honest, too. He worked nearby. Even lived close. But there was no chemistry. This is a big problem, so he lost 15 points. 85%.
JS was seemingly perfect. (And, yes, I know that this being the most recent of them all, I'm bound to feel this way. And I promise that at some point, hopefully soon, I'll shut up about him. But for today, just go with me on this one.) He was intelligent. Funny. Honest. Communicative. Affectionate. Spiritual. Lived and worked within 25 miles of my home. There was chemistry. But he was occasionally and temporarily emotionally disabled. Minus 5. 95%.
There are many others I could use to illustrate the point I'm about to make, but my dating stories aren't even interesting to me anymore, so I'll spare you the details.
The thing is, in all of these relationships, I was mostly happy. Mostly fulfilled. They were mostly good. Often great. Nearly perfect. But it's that one thing that isn't right, that one thing that you can't live with (or in some cases without), that one inadequacy that takes you from 100% to anything else, however small the variance, that makes it fail in the end.
And when something is so close to perfect and then it doesn't work out, it is sharply more painful than if it was much further off the mark. Because you were hopeful. Sure, even. That the long and laborious search might finally be over. That the right person and the right timing may have finally come together. Which is why I say that in love, 50% would be so much better than 99%. At least you'd know to expect failure. But who expects failure when something is 99% great? And is it even possible to find something worthy of an uninflated 100%? I, for one, have my doubts.
When I was in school, I was almost always that kid who scored 100% on an exam, throwing off the curve for everyone else. Luckily for me (so I wouldn't be hated all the time), the grading system was usually pretty straightforward. If you scored anywhere in the 90s, it was an A. In the 80s, a B. And so on. You had to score below 60 to fail.
Being the type-A that I am, this kind of rigid scale has always worked for me. Always made sense. There is logic. Constancy. Objectivity. Absolution. The possibility of actual perfection. Which is why I always preferred the true A to the inflated grades one receives when a curve is used. Why I didn't feel bad when I threw off said curve for the others who didn't study as fastidiously as I.
But in life, and most specifically in love, I find that the scale is nowhere near as predictable or precise. It is fickle. Complex. Multi-faceted. There is no formula for perfection. No single right answer. No proof of why things are as they are. There is a curve that is based on others' expectations of you, which are based on their opinion of and respect for you, which is often based on nothing solid at all. Or there is something of a reverse curve, where 99% is actually much worse than, say, 50%. Let me explain...
J and I dated for nearly four years. We were practically perfect for each other. Practically. There was just one thing that was missing. I have been assured that I will never know what that one thing was, so for the sake of making my point, I'll assign it a point value of 1. Which takes us from 100% to 99%.
D seemed at first to be wonderful. He treated me like a queen. But, as it turned out, he was a compulsive liar. Now, this is a major character flaw, so I'll take off extra points. Let's say 25. 75% - generally considered an average score, so I'm being generous here.
JT was fantastic. He was honest. He was fun. He was intelligent. But he, too, had a fatal flaw. He is in town for roughly 12 hours every month. Total. And sometimes those hours are not consecutive. A relationship is impossible when you only see each other once a month, so he lost 10 points. 90% - still an A by most standards.
M was honest, too. He worked nearby. Even lived close. But there was no chemistry. This is a big problem, so he lost 15 points. 85%.
JS was seemingly perfect. (And, yes, I know that this being the most recent of them all, I'm bound to feel this way. And I promise that at some point, hopefully soon, I'll shut up about him. But for today, just go with me on this one.) He was intelligent. Funny. Honest. Communicative. Affectionate. Spiritual. Lived and worked within 25 miles of my home. There was chemistry. But he was occasionally and temporarily emotionally disabled. Minus 5. 95%.
There are many others I could use to illustrate the point I'm about to make, but my dating stories aren't even interesting to me anymore, so I'll spare you the details.
The thing is, in all of these relationships, I was mostly happy. Mostly fulfilled. They were mostly good. Often great. Nearly perfect. But it's that one thing that isn't right, that one thing that you can't live with (or in some cases without), that one inadequacy that takes you from 100% to anything else, however small the variance, that makes it fail in the end.
And when something is so close to perfect and then it doesn't work out, it is sharply more painful than if it was much further off the mark. Because you were hopeful. Sure, even. That the long and laborious search might finally be over. That the right person and the right timing may have finally come together. Which is why I say that in love, 50% would be so much better than 99%. At least you'd know to expect failure. But who expects failure when something is 99% great? And is it even possible to find something worthy of an uninflated 100%? I, for one, have my doubts.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
How to Annoy Me
AKA Adventures in Online Dating
Send me an email that proves to me that you looked at the photos in my profile, but did not read a single word I wrote or look at a single item on the list of qualities I am looking for in someone. Demonstrate extreme superficiality to confirm for me, once and for all, that all of the good ones are either married or gay.
Send me an email that proves to me that you looked at the photos in my profile, but did not read a single word I wrote or look at a single item on the list of qualities I am looking for in someone. Demonstrate extreme superficiality to confirm for me, once and for all, that all of the good ones are either married or gay.
Feliz aniversario.
JS' birthday is in two days. But the gift I had planned for this occasion cannot be given. Our romantic weekend getaway will not come to pass. The private hot spring just outside our luxury suite will remain empty. The side-by-side massage tables will remain untouched. The special table by the window overlooking the gorgeous landscape will remain available. The bottle of wine will remain unopened.
All because he doesn't know what (or, rather, who) he wants. Because he keeps changing his mind. Because he can't break free from her and the disastrous cycle that they are in. Because he's not ready to find what he's been searching for. Because he's not strong enough to do the right thing. And still I want to be with him despite these flaws. Because the heart knows no reason.
Happy Birthday, JS. I hope you get everything you want and need this year. I wish for you to find the happiness you seek.
All because he doesn't know what (or, rather, who) he wants. Because he keeps changing his mind. Because he can't break free from her and the disastrous cycle that they are in. Because he's not ready to find what he's been searching for. Because he's not strong enough to do the right thing. And still I want to be with him despite these flaws. Because the heart knows no reason.
Happy Birthday, JS. I hope you get everything you want and need this year. I wish for you to find the happiness you seek.
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