By Caitlin

Tornadoes in Tuscaloosa

2011-04-28T10:53:00.001-07:00

Last fall I had the pleasure of spending time in Tuscaloosa, Alabama for my graduate school orientation. It was a beautiful town, friendly in its greenness and in the open, easy smiles of its people. Lazy Southern electricity, inspired by the humid heat and the newly born, wide-eyed ambitions of thousands of fresh-faced college students, buzzed through the heavy air, humming with a grace and charm as old as Alabama.

Last night, a tornado tore it to pieces. Hundreds are dead, and even more are injured, their homes demolished. Many are still missing.

My thoughts and prayers go out to my colleagues, friends, and the faculty and staff of UA, as well as all those impacted by the tornado.

For ways to help, check out my classmate Brittany's blog here.

seasons? sure.

2010-08-20T19:22:00.001-07:00

I'm excited for fall. I've always loved fall (or autumn, for you sophisticated folks). There's something beautiful in the crisp edge that makes its way into the air, an exciting tingle that bubbles up inside me at the sound of crackling leaves and a cool breeze. In childhood fall was freedom from sweltering summer heat, a promise of black cats and jack-o-lanterns, crappy home-made Halloween costumes, and tables full of food at Thanksgiving. Fall was a returning to school books, pencils, and a new pair of shoes.

Now, as an adult (and I use the word loosely--I don't think I'll ever grow up), fall is still freedom from heat, Halloween, and turkey. It is football and corn mazes, popcorn and carnivals. I don't know why I associate these with fall, but I do. But for the past few years it wasn't school, only a continuation of the work that was summer. Those were the times I enjoyed fall the least, perhaps.

I was thinking of this the yesterday as I was traipsing across campus at the University of Alabama (beautiful campus, by the way!), where I've been participating in a weekend-long orientation for the graduate program I'm starting this fall. I'm excited to be starting this new program, though I was undoubtedly hesitant and intimidated until the moment I arrived (I'm still intimidated a bit). I'd forgotten how great it feels to be presented with the prospect of learning, of progress, of change.

Change.

Then I thought, that's really the reason that I love fall. Change.

Because I don't only love the fall. I love the Spring. Every year, I love the flowers, the explosion of azalea pinks, the floral-scented air and the welcome warmth after a frigid winter. I love the brightly colored skirts and sandals, and I love the way the marsh of the Carolina lowcountry seems to finally wake up, how the putrid smell of marsh-mud sweeps across the rivers as the spartina grass finally turns that perfect shade of green.

And I love the summer. I love that first day when the heat finally settles in, when it's so hot that people gravitate towards the water and its breezes and stay, still, too hot to move. I love the roar of waves, their steady report and hot sand under my feet. I love the thought of snowcones, their juices overflowing their flimsy paper cups; the anticipation of boats and jet skis and sliding across pluff mud while angry hermit crabs do their worst.

And I love the winter (at first--this gets old the fastest). I like pulling out my long, soft jacket and wearing it for the first time, wrapping up in blankets and drinking hot chocolate with friends. Sometimes, if we're lucky here in South Carolina (and last year we definitely were!), we might get to see a snowflake or two.

I love all these things about each season, but what I love most is the change. I love the change of seasons. That is what I look forward to more than anything else. After a while each season becomes dull, and tiresome, tedious and at times unbearable. Too much heat, too much cold, too much pollen. The fact that seasons are constantly changing, with a reliability as old as earth, is, I think, tremendous. And, as I walked across the humid campus here in Tuscaloosa, I had the thought that pattern of change God laid out on this earth ought to be a pattern for my life.

I am a firm believer that ours is a world made 'on purpose,' though the means in which it was created is up for debate. I don't know how God did it. Everything has a pattern, everything fits together in a sweeping, natural rhythm. Things are the way they are for a reason, and I should learn from them. I should embrace changes, and welcome new seasons of my life. I have always been a person reluctant to let go of good things, which is not inherently a bad trait. I try to cling to what was, afraid and unspeakably saddened at the prospect of good things fading away. However, there comes a time for summer to end, for fall to begin. In the world the most beautiful times of year are those times of change. Though for the plants and actual earth going through these transitions the change of seasons is most likely a difficult, strenuous, time-demanding process, from our perspective, we can see the beauty of it all.

I don't know where I'm going with this. I'm just thinking as I type, alone here in my giant hotel room (free upgrade to a suite? Yes, thank you!). Maybe I'm just trying to convince myself that this new direction my life is taking, school and career-wise, is good. Maybe I'm just realizing something that I've theoretically known my whole life.

Also, fancy hotel suites are boring by yourself. And lonely, too. I'll be glad to head home on Sunday. :)

Dear World,

2010-07-01T14:29:00.000-07:00

I just want to say thank you for spinning so steadily. I really hate today, and it's nice to know exactly how much longer I have to put up with it.

Sincerely,

Caitlin

time

2010-06-22T14:59:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, when neither I nor anyone else is paying any particular attention, I see flashes of people as they used to be. It sounds strange, but it’s true. Something in their walk, their smile, the simplicity of an expression without worry, flashes for the smallest of moments, and I see them as they used to be—young, happy, carefree—or, for some, young, ambitious, determined—some hopeful, some sad, some very tired.

It’s happened to me on occasion, but today, in particular, I saw it in my father. He strolled carelessly towards the car from the Krispy Kreme on Highway 17, the same swinging gait and lolling stride I’d seen a hundred times, his brow smooth and blissfully pensive—his mind doubtlessly filled with the peace that the freedom of random thought sometimes invites—and I saw him as he must have been years ago. I saw that he was still the teenage boy who drove his motorcycle through the high school just before graduation, the quiet boy with a laugh that can send a whole room into hysterics. I saw the youth and promise in his face, then the wisdom that grew as he became a father, and fatigue and disappointment in the world and, unwarranted, in himself. I saw contentment with the world as it was, happiness with a sunny Saturday morning and a Krispy Kreme doughnut. I saw all those things at once, but the flash of who he was resonated most with me.

I wanted to cry when I saw it, because in that moment I felt a kind of love for him that is almost too powerful for my body to contain. I loved him for everything he was and everything he had ever been, for the kindness in his eyes and the generosity in his spirit. I loved him for the sound of his voice and the tireless hours he has spent working for me, for my family, so that we may laugh and eat and complain about not having enough. I loved him for the way he walked and even for the way he squinted in the sunlight, and I loved him for every memory of him brushing my long hair before school each morning and purchasing us hotdog-breakfasts from the gas station on the way out to Mrs. Renee’s, our babysitter, in the summertime. I loved him, and I hated that I could never know those parts of him that disappeared as he grew older, into a graceful maturity that I was blessed to have the opportunity to pattern my personality and life after.

Nothing troubles me more in this life than the concept of time and the fact that so much is constantly changing and fading away into memory. It breaks my heart in ways that I cannot now and will not ever be able to put into words.

I saw the flash once in my mother, years ago, on a day when she didn’t have to make the hour commute to work, had no worries, and for once was not tired. I also saw the youthful flash once on my granny’s face, as I strolled through her backyard and spied her sitting at the kitchen table along with her older brother, his wife, and my aunt. She raised herself slightly up from where she sat and grinned widely as she waved at me, and I saw it then. She was sixteen, laughing on the beach, carefree and full of rambunctious life. I saw it there, still in her, and I know she will always be that lady, even if she is now much more.

I know that time exists only for this life, for earthly purposes, and my only solace from its resultant heartbreak stems from my knowledge that in eternity there will be no time. Everyone will once again be everything they ever were, in a good sense, and so much more.

**I wrote this a few weeks ago, but thought I'd post it in honor of Father's Day...I know, I'm late, and I know, it's not all about fathers. But it's my blog and I'll post what I want. :)

Update!

2010-04-21T18:39:00.001-07:00

So, I'm not great at posting, and I'm not great at taking pictures, either. It's a combination that makes for a pretty pathetic blogger, but hey, what can you do?

I suppose it's time for an update (I feel like the guy at the end of Unsolved Mysteries: Update! After our broadcast Sally's long lost grandfather made contact with our operators, with all the information regarding Sally's missing mother and siblings!). Anyways, here's the update: I'm still living in beautiful South Carolina and loving it. It's azalea season, so it's hard not to be cheerful while surrounded by thousands of bright flowers of various shades of pink everywhere I turn.

I'm still working for the ophthalmologist, and it's still paying the bills. :)

I'm currently obsessed with this song. Can't stop listening to it. It almost makes me cry every time.

My sister Tori is graduating law school tomorrow! Three cheers for Tori! I suppose that's really her update, not mine--but I don't have anything exciting happening in my life, so I'll steal from hers.

This past Saturday was the Regional Southeastern Day of Service (I probably got that title wrong), and our little branch joined in by helping clean up a little place called Wide Awake Plantation in Hollywood, SC. Here are some pictures that I stole from someone else's facebook (I already mentioned that I'm horrible when it comes to taking pictures).

Hard at work clearing out some stubborn plants.

Still working, with Sis. Peterson & Brad. Well, Brad said he was working... :)

At the end of the day the mayor of Hollywood made us a delicious lunch (so nice!), including this lovely chicken and the most wonderful shrimp & grits I've ever tasted! Oh, and the baked beans were spectacular. Yeah, spectacular.

After we were done, we of course had to climb a tree. (See my cute boyfriend, standing up like a crazy person?)

The view from where I was working all day--not too shabby.

Tadaaa! I'm going to try to start taking pictures of my own, but I'm not making any promises.

Snowmen of a Snowless Town

2010-02-16T08:15:00.000-08:00

What happens when snow falls in a place with no snow? Well, Charleston natives knew (from television and hearsay, of course) that when it snows you build a snowman. For some, however, execution of the enterprise proved more difficult than anticipated, especially in the creativity department. Here is a brief photo-essay displaying these inept snow sculptors' creations in all their pathetic glory.

Snowmen of a Snowless Town:

I Love Snow When It's a Novelty

2010-02-13T07:55:00.000-08:00

All day long the weather-people were telling us that it was going to snow in Charleston, and all day long I rolled my eyes at them. Yeah, right. The last time it snowed on the coast of South Carolina and actually stuck I was four years old. That's twenty years ago, folks--and it was a freak occurrence even then.

But joke's on me--when I walked outside last night I was shocked to see SNOW piled on the ground and on cars, in tree branches and all over the roads. For a split second it was as if I'd gone back in time to Provo, but there's no mistaking the lowcountry oaks even when hidden beneath the snowflakes.

Now I've been up since 7:30 AM taking pictures and running around in the snow like a little kid. Gotta love the unexpected. :)

By the Citadel campus

Our backyard! CRAZY!

Jillian's super hot snow-woman. I like her colorful hair.

A little tree in our front yard

See how many inches there are!

Down by the battery with some excellent hot chocolate.

Next entry: Snowmen of a Snowless Town--a photo essay on what happens when snow falls in a place with no snow.

Everyone Is A Winner

2010-01-16T10:57:00.000-08:00

While I was preparing for a talk I'm giving in church tomorrow, I ran across this quote in one of my old BYU packets from a religion class. It was just too good not to share:

"Don't ever call yourself a loser. Consider the fact that you were once a sperm! You were once with a group of more than five million of you lined up at the starting line. And at the end of a long, long tunnel there was one egg. There was a race!
And you won!

"Don't ever call yourself a loser. The odds were five million to one against you, and you came through. You're a winner! You make the Olympics seem insignificant by comparison. You are here by divine appointment. You are here because God chose you to be a winner in the struggle for existence."

--Tony Compolo

Would You Like To Have My Jacket?

2010-01-15T15:19:00.000-08:00

I am currently employed by a retinal specialist and surgeon. I give vision exams and poke people in the eye all day--over and over and over again. I know, I know--it's not what anyone would ever expect me to be doing with my life, myself included, but for now it's paying the bills and keeping me from withering away to nothing. It's not something that I anticipate ever growing to love, and some days my only sanity is knowing that I'll find an escape from it eventually. But I'm very grateful to have a job at all in these times (seriously--who gets laid-off twice before they're even 25?), and I'm actually learning a lot, albeit about things I never really had an interest in. :)

Anyways, one of the most common problems with the retina stems from macular degeneration, which develops with age. For that reason, the majority of our patients are elderly, and it is not uncommon for the "big E" on the sight chart to be a mysterious or even invisible figure to a patient. In addition, a number of our patients are also affected by age in other ways, including difficulty walking and severe hearing loss.

Such was the case of an elderly gentleman who came in for an exam a few weeks ago, his wife of 60+ years in tow. My co-worker took the couple into an exam room to evaluate his vision, and as the minutes passed I could clearly hear her shouting things like "Are you having any vision problems?" and "Can you see the letters on the chart?" at the top of her lungs, repeatedly. Moments later she emerged from the room exasperated, proclaiming that no matter how loudly she spoke, the gentleman was unable to hear her.

"And do you want to know the craziest thing?" she asked me, shaking her head in frustration, "After I scream something at him for fifteen minutes, his wife then repeats it in the softest, gentlest voice in the world, and he answers! Somehow he hears her."

It was a silly situation, but somehow that statement was beautiful to me. It's hard for me to put into words how the thought impacted me. Over sixty years of love, marriage, and friendship had bred a familiarity so intimate that although most sounds of the world had long since stopped penetrating the man's senses, he still could hear her voice.

Somehow he hears her.

Later that day, as the couple waited patiently for the doctor to come into the room, as I was rushing by I overheard the woman say that she felt cold. Her husband asked her to repeat her statement, and she kindly did, in a slightly louder voice that was still anything but a shout.

"Oh," he said when he understood, then without hesitation added: "Would you like to have my jacket?"

That small, tender consideration reinforced my earlier thoughts about the couple. The sweetness of his simple desire to make her feel more comfortable was once again beautiful to me, and made me reflect upon the sweet and simple things that I have in my life. I learned in that instance the power of love and devotion, and also the opportunity that I have to learn and grow every day from every situation. Even though my job is nothing I ever wanted, this, and moments like it, are a highly unexpected silver lining.

Is it November already?

2009-11-03T08:54:00.000-08:00

I was thinking the other day about how slowly time used to move when I was a kid. Back then a summer stretched on into oblivion, countless days of sunshine followed by long, lazy nights of moonlit swims and fireflies. A school-year was a lifetime, and goodness knows it was an eternity between Christmases. The future seemed so far away, and all that mattered was what I was doing right then, at every moment. I think that's one of the reasons children are so happy--they live in the moment, never questioning that it's exactly where they should be.

Time doesn't move so slowly anymore. Sometimes I even doubt that it exists at all, because each day seems to superimpose itself right on top of another, blurring all sense of the passage of time. I have to make plans now, to consider each step I take and am forced to recognize that moments are precious and fleeting. It's good in many ways, being "grown-up," because I can appreciate life in a deeper way than I could when I was younger (though to be honest, sometimes I miss the joy of childish simplicity--but only sometimes).

The point of this rambling is that it's already November, which has long been one of my most favorite months of the year. Early November in South Carolina is beautiful, and I've always loved it. October was over in the blink of an eye, and I'm pretty sure that tomorrow it will be Christmas. I'll try to be better about posting to the blog, but let's be honest...it probably won't happen. I'm just not that dedicated.

Anyway, here are some pictures from Halloween--was it really only this past Saturday? Cray-see.

We spent the day at the state park at Fort Dorchester, where I went nuts and climbed trees like I was ten, or like I was a monkey. But I don't like monkeys, they stink and pick bugs and are ugly, so I'll stick with the ten-year-old analogy. I was in a good mood all day after the tree-climbing. It's impossible to be in a bad mood when you've been climbing in the boughs of oak trees all day--especially when the boughs hang over a river. Dad joined in the fun, and he looked like Mowgli shimmying up some of the trees.

Jillian and I also went to a ward Halloween party, and her costume pretty much rocked like the giant wooden-rocking chair upstairs in Granny's house. Mine was more of a last minute "I guess I should dress up" deal, but eh, who cares. It was a good night!

Life & love were easier when we were kids...

2009-09-18T12:06:00.000-07:00

My Aunt Cheryl posted this picture on her blog the other day, and I just think it is hilarious. Not the beautiful blond baby sitting on her mom's lap--there's nothing funny about that breathtaking child--but the dark-haired sister sitting next to her cracks me up. Check out the adoring expression as she gazes lovingly at the mountain of toys next to her (particularly at the Cabbage Patch doll). Have you ever seen such a true expression of contentment and happiness?

Seriously, though, I love this picture and everyone in it!

So maybe I'm not the only one.

2009-09-16T20:43:00.000-07:00

"...Inside something gnaws at me; some presentiment, anxiety, dreams - or sleeplessness - melancholy, indifference - desire for life, and the next instant, desire for death; some kind of sweet peace, some kind of numbness, absent-mindedness..."

-- Chopin.

Folly Beach Pharaohs

2009-08-21T11:12:00.000-07:00

The ancient Egyptians have got nothing on us.

Peace out, Drayton

2009-07-30T17:06:00.001-07:00

Today was the last day of my internship at Drayton Hall, and in honor of that auspicious event I am posting a few photos. I should have taken tons more, because we did so many things, but today was the first time in over a year that the batteries in my camera weren't dead. So this is all I've got. Sorry.

The looong driveway, leading up to the house.

Taa daaa! Drayton Hall! The Draytons were all about symmetry, folks.

The dig site. You can't really see me, but that's good because I'm dirty and sweaty.

The archaeologists' current project. The painting was a mystery donation...oooooh.

The site close up. Sorry if you're bored. Go check your facebook or something.

Sorting the artifacts by layer. There were zillions of pipe stems. Yes, zillions. Apparently the Draytons were also big on tobacco.

Okay...so there are more pictures, but it takes too long to upload them into blogger. Maybe I will add the rest to facebook. Someday.

Preparing for grad school

2009-07-29T15:34:00.000-07:00

A word to the wise: Don't ever let your brain stop working, because once it stops it won't want to start again.

Hurry up Courtney & Andrew!

2009-07-14T12:42:00.000-07:00

Because I'm excited to see this.

Oh, and I'm also excited to see you!

For John

2009-07-08T20:42:00.000-07:00

It's hard to know what to say sometimes. This is one of those times. I've put it off, but I feel like I need to say something, so here's my best effort.

My Uncle John passed away just over a week ago, and it was completely out of the blue--a total shock. I wonder if it always feels like that when someone dies, because I've yet to have it happen and not feel that way.

My uncle and I weren't close, as I grew up over a thousand miles from his home, but I do know a little about him. At six and a half feet tall Uncle John was a pillar of love and patience. He was the youngest of seven children, and was a wonderful father to his own little ones. His life wasn't easy--it was hard, in fact. But his soft-spoken hello and friendly smile were always ready whenever we met, and that's what I'll remember most.

Keep your loved ones close, because life is fragile. Don't put things off. Your world can change in an instant.

disney dorks :)

2009-07-03T09:35:00.001-07:00

Some of my favorite quotes from the family trip down to Orlando:

"Disney World should be air conditioned!!"
"I think I thought Disney World would be more......magical."
"Couldn't he see I was busy holding a noodle?"
"WHY isn't there a Hunchback of Notre Dame character OR ride?!"
Q: "Colton, have you seen Jillian's flip flop?" A: "It's in the safe."

I realize these quotes might make us sound a little negative (and also weird), but I promise you we weren't! The trip was overall a very good one! Here are just a few pictures--

get out of town!

2009-06-24T08:20:00.001-07:00

My mandatory vacation is drawing closer and closer, and I'm more than ready for a road trip. T-minus 24 hours and counting. Orlando, here I come.

firehouse prayers

2009-06-18T08:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was hectic. I spent the morning at work going through hundreds of student files and creating new intake packets for the entire next year (hey, my boss is using me while she's still got me--it's only another week before the big lay-off). Inside the office the phone kept ringing, the computers were slow, and the paper shredder was constantly roaring in the background. Outside it was hot and sticky, and a very loud team of landscapers/earth-drillers/concrete levelers had set up camp right outside my door.

I spent afternoon sorting boxes of artifacts gathered and never labeled in the 1970s, and then hauling buckets of water away from the dig site (stinkin' thunderstorms!) while simultaneously dodging a couple of very irritated spiders. Today my back and shoulders are still sore, but I managed to get rid of the mud and grime.

Between the two I got lunch. Ah, lunch (and all food in general)--the salvation and momentary solace of an otherwise busy day.......Yeah, right. I decided to hit up Firehouse subs, because sandwiches are delicious. Plus, last time I went they gave me this nifty punch card that gives me a free sub if I buy six (the hole-punch is shaped like a little fire hydrant!).

Wow, I'm typing a lot in parentheses this post.

Anyways, I only had a half hour to get my food, eat it, and get to Drayton Hall, and the line was abysmally long. Two TVs were set up in either corner of the restaurant, and the volume, in my opinion, was louder than necessary--though I suppose it had to be in order to be heard over the shouting of orders and low mumble of conversation. Plus that stupid bell kept ringing every time someone opened the door. I took my spot in line, trying not to check the my cell phone for the time every two seconds, and noticed in front of me a cute elderly couple. He wore a button-up shirt with red, yellow, and blue classic race cars on it, and she wore gold-sequined sandals. There was an air of calmness about them, an innate patience that seemed to encompass their own little world. His voice was low and kind, and the two were incredibly considerate of each other as they ordered and selected a table.

I almost forgot them as I hungrily waited for my order (I was going to have to eat it on the road, and was thinking bitterly that they'd better not put any stupid pickles and onions on it), but after a moment the flutter of motion caused by the waiter delivering their sandwiches caught my eye. The couple set their sandwiches carefully in front of them, and then reached across the table and clasped each other's wizened hands. Oblivious to the blaring television sets, the hustle and bustle, and nosy strangers, they closed their eyes an offered an unmistakable prayer of thanks to heaven.

They opened their eyes and began eating, and my name was called, so I took my food and was gone. But now I was smiling. I don't know who they were, or even what religion, but theirs was a small and unexpected act that reminded me of the many, many things I have to be grateful for.

Like my sandwich, sans pickles and onions, for starters. :)

Winning doesn't suck.

2009-06-15T08:24:00.000-07:00

This morning, on a whim, I actually called the radio station when they said "Call now!" I expected a busy signal, but the phone rang. I thought this was strange, and even checked my phone to see if I had dialed the wrong number--but it was right, and soon enough the morning DJs answered and said, "If you can talk for 25 seconds about the subject we give you without any long pauses, ums, uhs, ergs, etc., then you're a winner." My subject? Tweezers. Yeah, tweezers. 25 seconds doesn't seem that long, but it was hard--which surprised me, because I can talk.

I don't know what I said, but I just kept on talking, and I won tickets to see Darius Rucker and Dierks Bentley in concert--with the possibility of an upgrade to front row seats! To be honest, I'm not a die-hard Rucker fan, but maybe he'll play some Hootie songs. :) And I do like Dierks Bentley, so it should be a fun night. Any way it turns out, it's always nice to get something for free.

My Apologies, Haggai

2009-06-10T06:52:00.000-07:00

Last night I was flipping through my Bible and a slip of paper that I had placed between pages some time ago fell out. It was a scripture reference for a verse in Haggai, but upon seeing the letters my mind quickly and subconsciously made the jump to Hagrid.

Is it a good sign when you automatically assume that there's a book of Hagrid? Apparently I spend more time reading the Book of J. K. Rowling than I should.

motorcycle monday

2009-06-09T09:13:00.001-07:00

If you think a typical evening in the Anderson home involves eating dinner, watching a little TV, and then hitting the hay, you obviously don't know my father (or any of us, for that matter--we're pretty loud). Dad always does things on his own time-table, and even more often he does things out of the blue. He's been known to say things like "I'm leaving for Florida in fifteen minutes if you want to come," or to ask "What do you think is down this road?" as he's turning onto an old dirt road very much like the one that Belle's dad and the wary Phillippe take in Beauty and the Beast.

So, yesterday my dad decides to buy a motorcycle. It's random, and kind of out of nowhere, but not really surprising. It doesn't run. Not surprising at all.

It's also not surprising when Dad calls at 10:30 at night and asks me to come down to the Home Depot parking lot with the towing cable. The truck he rented to get the bike home had to be turned back in to the store by 10:00, and he didn't have time to make it to the house before then. So Dad, Jillian, and the motorcycle are at Home Depot, and I need to bring the towing cable.

Eventually it works out that Dad comes and gets the cable, because I have no idea where it is. Back at the Home Depot, we analyze our options with the mutinous motorcycle. We try to jump it, push it, pull-start it--but nothing works. It's humid and we're sticky and the bike's not budging, and straggling Home Depot workers look at us strangely as they trickle out to their cars. Soon it's 11:30, and we've only managed to move across the parking lot. The bike is heavy, and almost falls on Dad as we're attempting another pulling maneuver, and then it almost falls again when it stubbornly refuses to go up on its kickstand, which turns out to actually be not a kickstand, but a prop used for working on the bike.

I'd like to say that eventually we got it home, and could count the whole enterprise as a success. But it's still in the Home Depot parking lot, and I have a feeling we'll be making another visit after work today, hopefully with better supplies.

As inconvenient as it all is, this is the stuff memories, and life, are made of.

:)

The Great Outdoors

2009-06-03T06:35:00.001-07:00

Sometimes, when I'm super-extra bored at work, I read every single article on CNN's homepage. Today, the seemingly pointless enterprise actually paid off, because I found an article that I'm really excited about! No, it's not about Obama's visit to Saudi Arabia, though that is interesting, I suppose. It's an article about the amazingly awesome thing the National Park Service is doing on certain dates this summer--free admission, to all parks!

If I'm being completely honest with myself, I know that I won't actually be able to visit all the parks. I probably won't even be able to make it to one, though I'll keep my fingers crossed for a quick trick to the Smoky Mountains. But to all my friends out in the wild west, where a ton of parks are close by, please go, so I can live vicariously through you.

Seriously, look at these pictures! It's crazy to think that so much of the country used to look like this, before all us people moved in and needed houses and food and such. I'm so glad there are places like these left! (pics, in order: Yosemite, Smoky Mountains, Grand Canyon).

Mr. Golden Sun

2009-06-02T06:21:00.001-07:00

I haven't blogged in a really long time, and I'm sorry. I just have so many other important things to do, like...well--like thinking about what I'm going to eat for lunch. That takes more energy and concentration than you'd think. Okay, not really, but I don't really have an excuse, so I made one up. Why yes, I am the ideal role model for children.

So, I've done some calculations (I hope you can follow my sophisticated mathematical reasoning):

June 2, 7:30 AM: 71 degrees

June 2, 8:00 AM: 78 degrees

June 2, 9:00 AM: 82 degrees

I'm sure you see the pattern. If the temperature (Fahrenheit, by the way--I don't do that Celsius mess) continues to rise at this rate, then according to my calculations by noon today it will be approximately 11,000 degrees, also known as the temperature of the surface of the sun. It's been nice knowing you.

But even more alarming than the temperature, folks, is the date. It's only June 2nd. This indicates that by mid-July temperatures will have reached a staggering 27,000,000 degrees, aka the temperature of the sun's core. It may even be hotter. Now, some people would be upset by this. I, however, am just glad that it's finally Earth's time to shine and show that ol' arrogant sun that he's not such hot stuff anymore.

Okay, seriously though, here are some quick updates on my wonderful life. I am getting laid off from my wonderful job--but not until the end of the wonderful month. So that's news, I guess. I still haven't officially picked a graduate school. I'm dragging my feet because neither place seems right. Why didn't I apply somewhere in Australia? I've got a pretty sweet internship at Drayton Hall, and it would be even sweeter if they paid me. I'm taking my car in to get the AC looked at on Friday, and if they can fix it, that'd be pretty sweet as well. Not that there's any point, really--I don't think a puny little AC unit will have much of a chance when it's 27,000,000 degrees. I'm just saying.

8:15

2009-04-24T05:13:00.001-07:00

I came in to work this morning feeling pretty tired, but not too bad. I checked my email and checked in some books; I checked the calendars and meeting schedules; I answered phone calls and even checked my facebook. I thought that today wasn't going to be so bad--I was doing well at keeping myself busy--time was sure to fly. It'd be quittin' time before I knew it.

I thought all these things before I looked at the clock.

It's only 8:15.

A.M.

Right now. That's after I took the time to get on this stupid blog thing and type.

I wonder if anyone would notice if I curled up underneath my desk and took a long nap.

an analogy

2009-04-09T12:32:00.000-07:00

I love salads. All kinds. Garden salad, pasta salad, potato salad, broccoli salad, mandarin orange salad...the list could go on, but I think it would be easier just to say:

salads : caitlin :: shrimp : bubba

Also, I don't have to go to work tomorrow. I may not have gotten three weekdays off for Spring break like our students, but I'll take a three day weekend very gladly!

I'd rather be at Hogwarts.

2009-04-07T12:29:00.000-07:00

It's been a while. I abandoned the blog mostly because I couldn't see the point of it, and I was tired of so much in my life being pointless. Also, I didn't really have much to say, and I was bored with blogging. Now, this post doesn't necessarily mean that I finally have something interesting to say, or that I have suddenly come to realize that my meaningless virtual rants have tremendous inherent value--it just means that I'm very bored and have finished reading Harry Potter.

Anyways, it's springtime in Charleston (at least it's supposed to be--what's with the cold snap last night?), and the azaleas are blooming in full force. I love it, probably because of the monstrous azalea bushes that filled my front yard growing up, and it's been years since I've been able to see them. So many colors!

Right now I'm trying to decide where to go for graduate school--BYU or College of Charleston? Any suggestions? There are ups and downs to both choices, and my brain is getting tired of thinking about it! But I've got to choose, and "get on with my life." :)

My dog Audrey has an arch nemesis. His name is Rudolph and he lives across the street with Mr. Bojangles, the rooster. I just hope their enmity doesn't come to any kind of showdown--Chihuahua vs. giant German Shepherd--things wouldn't turn out in Audrey's favor, I'm afraid. Besides, I don't think Rudolph feels any real hostility--he just likes to see how fast Audrey can run.

blue jean ramble

2009-01-30T05:35:00.000-08:00

I'm wearing jeans at work today. Is it ridiculous that I'm so happy about it?

Kidd Kraddick in the morning cracks me up.

I have a cold again. I hope it's better by Sunday or else I just might have to miss nursery! ;)

This song is in my head: Just around the riverbeeeeeeeeend! I look once more, just around the riverbeeend, beyond the shooore....she should have married Kokoum.

For the first time ever, I've been following American Idol. I don't have a favorite contestant yet, but I'll keep you posted. Just so you know, every time I think a person's singing is not that great, the judges love them. I guess that's why I'm not in the music business.

Our office is treated like the ugly step-child of the college. Everyone has fancy displays and colorful magnets to give away at the college fair and we have a science fair board (with cobwebs on the back) and used confetti.

Every book I check out from the library is stupid. How do these people get published? I can't usually even get past the first chapter.

I wish everyone could see the ugly pamphlet sitting on the rack across from my desk, that I have to look at every morning. Its cover has a drawing of a girl in a hideous 1980s sweatshirt (I think it's been sitting there for a while) and comb-over-looking hair, wearing a horrifying look of unchecked rage, hatred, and malice on her face. I think it's a rape prevention pamphlet. I think they're onto something.

We have got to get some new reading material for this office. That pamphlet is embarrassing.

I think I would like running more if I was as fast as a cheetah.

It's going to be a long day.

the perfect cast

2009-01-27T11:25:00.000-08:00

If anyone ever decided to remake the film Gone With the Wind, my boss would make the perfect Pitty Pat Hamilton. Absolutely perfect...

officially famous

2009-01-23T05:36:00.000-08:00

Apparently our college puts out a newsletter every month, though I've yet to see one in the five months that I've been working here. My boss is very excited that this month our office was asked to contribute, and decided that since three of us are relatively new (we all got hired around the same time), she was going to introduce us by spotlighting each of us in this month's issue with little mini-biographies!

Imagine. My. Joy.

So, after writing the stupidest bio about my background (which wasn't really about me, but actually about how wonderful our office is and the overall amazingness of the college and our customer service skills--but that's beside the point), my boss asked the three of us to take a nice, professional picture to submit as well. This is what we came up with.

I think my boss is going to love it, don't you?

secondhand lions

2009-01-21T05:16:00.001-08:00

I love this movie.

always carry your keys

2009-01-15T08:36:00.001-08:00

I have of late developed a new habit, which is admittedly ridiculous. You want to hear about it? Yeah, I thought you would. It goes like this:

I drive somewhere (usually to work), park, and turn off the car's engine. I leave the keys in the ignition so I can continue to listen to the radio while I gather my things, check myself out in the mirror, kill a bit of time, or whatever it is I'm doing in my car. I then get out, responsibly lock the door and then slam it shut. After I walk about two feet I realize my keys are still in the ignition, and that the radio is still playing, and sometimes my lights are still on. Luckily, after the first time this happened I started carrying my spare key in my purse. In total, I'd say I've done this about four times now. Oh, and I talk to myself and call myself names every time I do it ("I can't believe I did this again! Idiot!"), which doesn't make me look crazy at all.

And I'll probably do it again. Mostly because I'm so bright.

a hate letter

2009-01-14T07:20:00.000-08:00

I would not be surprised to receive the following letter from one of the students in our program (had they the mental acuity to form grammatically correct sentences). Not one little bit surprised.

Dear Stupid Caitlin,

I have somehow, through circumstances wholly unknown to you, come to be a single parent without any viable means of supporting my children. This fact alone entitles me to special privileges and financial support, and the services you offer me are my absolute right. I sincerely hope you do not expect any signs of gratitude from me, because there is no need for me to be especially grateful for the free money to which I am inherently entitled.

I have a complaint. Somehow in your bumbling generosity you have failed to give me everything I want, and my predilection to laziness and irresponsibility (which I cleverly mask with stories of a hectic schedule, because I'm sure you have no way of verifying it with the school; my, how clever I am!) deserves the maximum amount of monetary compesation your program allows, if not more.

Furthermore, I cannot understand why you ask more of me than less than the bare minimum. The demands imposed on my time by your program are outrageous. The sheer audacity of your asking me to once a month meet for fifteen minutes with a counselor is upsetting, and when coupled with your request for me to also once a month turn in a sheet of paper with my attendance record on it, it becomes downright unbearable. The paltry assistance your office offers me is not worth such effort. Sure, you purchase all my books and supplies, pay for my children's daycare services while I'm in class (and having lunch with friends in the food court), give me free counseling about my schooling and life, and even give me gas money, but twenty minutes of my time once a month is altogether too much to ask.

Also, when things don't go exactly as I expect them to, and there is a line to pick up my book voucher, in which I am expected to actually wait, it is my right to roll my eyes and suck my teeth, and express to you in every way possible my displeasure with the situation. I cannot believe you have the nerve to ask me to wait in a line. You, Caitlin, as the first point of contact for all students deserve to experience the brunt of my displeasure. You are rude and unhelpful, and really should be more amenable to giving me my money even if I haven't made the time to drop off an attendance sheet or meet with my counselor. You are ridiculous, the money is mine, and you have no right to withhold free money from me. You should just do me a favor and be an idiot who believes my lies when I tell you that I did turn in the paper, and take responsibility by saying you lost it. You should also call me every day and tell me what requirements I'm not meeting, because I can't be expected to keep track of my own life. I am, I hope your are not forgetting, a single parent.

Outraged and Abused,
PA Student

**I must post a disclaimer here, because some students are very grateful, work very hard, do have hectic schedules, and always meet their requirements. Not all of them think this way (as implied by the above letter). But some of them...oh, yes, some of them do. I'm plenty tired of their attitudes.

scary little monsters

2009-01-09T06:27:00.000-08:00

So, every time a student walks through the door and comes to talk to me, I look up and this is what I see:

Yep, they all look the same, and I'm sick and tired of them. Mean, impatient, crazy little monsters. You'd think by the time they reached the college level they would have outgrown such behavior, but then again, I did see a sixty-something year-old woman screaming her lungs out at a poor, innocent teenage BiLo worker the other day because the store didn't carry the specific brand of stuffing she wanted. I guess some people will always be monsters.

Wait, I lied--some of the students look like this:

These students are nicer, but just as aggravating because, let's face it, what I'm telling them is just not that hard to understand.

My favorite question asked today so far: "Huh? What dat mean?"

I can't wait until the semester is well underway and this registration/new semester chaos has ended.

basketballin'

2009-01-03T18:42:00.000-08:00

Summerville loves its sports, and tonight was Colton's first basketball game! He's in the church league here in town, and believe me, they're intense! I was picturing the kind of games we used to have at the stake center down in Savannah when I was younger, but that was just kid stuff. Shoont. Anyways, tonight's game was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints versus Sandhill United Methodist Church--game on!

This is Colton in the backyard warming up before the game. He wasn't happy about having his picture taken, but I was plenty happy taking it!

This was my attempt at an action shot. Apparently my camera doesn't do action shots. So instead of taking pictures of the game, I took a picture of the kid sitting in front of me:

GoBama GoBama Go!

So, I'm sure you're all biting your nails in anticipation of the outcome. Well, it wasn't good. Our team had a solid lead for the majority of the game--until the last five minutes, to be exact. Then......they didn't anymore. It was neck and neck, and at the buzzer the other team pulled off an amazing shot to tie, and then they kicked our trash in overtime. That's okay--they'll do better next game! I just hope the gym doesn't stink so badly next time (it was awful, I don't think I mentioned that before)!

mr. bojangles

2008-12-18T09:26:00.000-08:00

The neighbors across the street from us have a pet rooster named Mr. Bojangles. Mr. Bojangles is a very proud rooster, and crows to show us all how well he can do it. His lung capacity is quite impressive for a bird, I've gotta say. Mr. Bojangles doesn't like to be lonely, and crows when he's sad and alone. Nobody wants to sit outside with a rooster all day, especially one as show-offy as Mr. Bojangles, so he crows a lot about this as well. Mr. Bojangles likes pretty weather, and crows because he's happy when the sun shines. He hates being wet, and so crows when it rains or is dreary.

Basically, Mr. Bojangles crows a lot. I should be annoyed, but I actually like Mr. Bojangles. There's just something about a strutting old rooster singing his heart out that makes me smile, whether he's singing his woes, triumphs, or praises. Plus, his name is Mr. Bojangles. How could I not like that name for a rooster? It's pretty darn funny. This morning as I left for work, Mr. Bojangles was going to town with his crowing--I don't think he was even taking time to breathe. Today he's happy about the pretty weather. 70 degrees in December--I'm certainly not going to complain! :)

PS: I love unexpected little Christmas gifts from co-workers and friends! Especially when chocolate is involved! It's almost better than Christmas morning..........almost.

pearls of wisdom

2008-12-09T10:22:00.000-08:00

It's important to learn from our daily experiences, right? Right. It's how we grow and become better people. Here are some of the things I've learned from personal experience today:

35 miles per hour is a good speed for merging onto the interstate
the painted white and yellow lines on the roads are more "guidelines" than actual "rules"
copy machines are mostly for decoration
paper jams don't necessarily require paper
psychic mind-reading powers are the norm--if you don't have them, you're an idiot
spiders make good Christmas decorations
white people are physically incapable of speaking Spanish (this must be why native Spanish-speakers feel free to say anything and everything they're thinking while you're standing just five feet away; I mean, it's impossible that I can understand what they're saying, right?)
responsibility is for suckers

I just hope that I can learn as much every day of my life (and just think--today's only half over!).

plants don't talk

2008-12-08T05:20:00.000-08:00

My boss is in the corner ruthlessly hacking leaves from the jungle-looking plant that graces our office. She talks to it tenderly like it's a living thing--okay, it is a living thing, but it can't hear you, woman! Oh well, it's an excusable habit, I suppose. Lots of people talk to their plants. She then turns to me smiling eerily and says that sometimes it talks back to her. Okaaaay...that's not quite as excusable (maybe the plant told her to rip its leaves maliciously from its branches). Finally she leaves and I look at the plant hopefully--a talking plant could make me a lot of money. But the thing never says anything, dang it. I'm shocked.

Why do we even have a stupid plant in our office anyway? Why do people put plants in their houses/offices at all? It doesn't make any sense. It takes hundreds of thousands of dollars and countless hours of the hardest human labor to get away from them--hammers pounding, saws buzzing, sweat dripping, the scrape of concrete on concrete and the rumbling of machinery. In the end it's all worth it, though, because we, the people of this planet, have successfully blocked out all of nature's ills--no more needy plants, dirt and bugs, or long hot nights--and created a home of solid brick (or whatever material you happen to prefer). Yes, inside the four walls tirelessly created we can truly make a home, complete with every comfort a person could ever desire.

No more sleeping on dirt under the boughs of a tree for shelter like our ridiculous ancestors, or maybe like those idiot animals out in the yard. We know better. We know we are above such things. We fill the empty space with furniture, soft and luxurious, and line the freshly painted walls with pictures of ourselves and our families (no, we're not vain). We block out the sunlight with lovely silk curtains, get shiny new appliances in the kitchen, and plush new carpet on the floors. Ah, we people know what makes us happy.

After hours of decorating, we stand in the middle of our newly created habitat, and frown as we look around and are unable to shake the feeling that something is missing. Something is not quite right. We look at the room from different perspectives and move the furniture around, but something extra is still needed. As we stare at the empty spot in the corner, at last we have that Aha! moment when inspiration strikes.

We drive to the Home Depot and pick up a potted plant with pretty leaves and vibrant greens, or maybe an exotic bamboo, and put it right in the corner. Ah, that's better. We start to long for smooth, rich oak beneath our feet rather than carpet, and then hang pictures of beautiful landscapes on the wall. We then draw the curtains and open the windows and hope for breezes, begging the outside world to please come in.

My, we are fickle creatures. Inside or out, what do we want? The best of both worlds, I suppose. And there's nothing wrong with that, really. I've never been much of a plant person, but any kind of flowers are always aces in my book. Something deep down inside of every human being misses the outside world of nature when we block it all out. I guess maybe our true genious isn't our escape from nature, but the balance we achieve when we have a little of both inside and out.

I miss my dog.

2008-12-03T09:00:00.000-08:00

2008 has been great in a lot of ways--there have been weddings and birthdays, reunions with long-unseen family members, new jobs, beautiful days, and cross country adventures. But in many ways it has also been most unkind, and I'll be incredibly glad to kiss it good-bye at the end of this month. The most recent unkindness has been the loss of my family's dog, a sweet-hearted animal that my dad rescued from being prematurely euthenized 8 years ago. It's upsetting to think that the happy, energetic dog we lived with would never had had those last 8 years if by chance my dad hadn't stopped to admire the rottweiler. It was hard letting go after trying to nurse him back to health for several days (isn't it weird how attached a person can get to an animal? It's weird, I know, but I was attached), but seeing him in pain hurt me more than I knew it could. Anyways, the point of this rambling post is that I miss him. And I miss my grandparents, too, who I also lost this year. It really has been a year for the record books, but I'm glad to report that I've learned from it all and hopefully have become a better person for it. If nothing else, I've come to appreciate my family and friends more than ever (and that's a whole whole lot). :)

PS: Sorry if this post has any misspellings. I don't feel like checking it.

back to the daily grind

2008-12-02T08:48:00.000-08:00

The worst part about holidays isn't the excess of money spent, the mass quantities of calories consumed (that's actually my favorite part--which is probably why I love Thanksgiving so much), or even the stress of all the planning. No, the worst part about the holidays is the Monday morning following the four (or more) glorious days of vacation--the cold, early morning when mundane, cruel reality slaps you hard in the face. Worse still is the day after that Monday, when you are sitting at your desk and have the depressing realization that it's only Tuesday. Why does time go so slowly following a holiday? Sigh. Here I am, plugging away, counting down the days till Christmas (and also till Friday).

Okay, lament aside, here are a few pictures from my Thanksgiving weekend, spent down in my favorite place on earth, my hometown of Beaufort.

This is at Granny's, and typical of my dad: somehow amidst the chaos he is quietly reading, while surrounded by animals. Seriously--typical. I love it.

My sister Jillian and I (and Colton, but he's not in the picture, sorry!) went into Port Royal and drove past our old house, which happened to be unoccupied. We, of course, decided to take the chance to look around, and this is in the backyard of the place we grew up. Somewhere under our feet is the golden bird statue-thing of my mom's that I buried as treasure (I made a map, but somehow could never find it again). Good memories.

I remembered which windows in the house never locked (you'd think after all these years that somebody would have fixed them, but no--that's the South for you), and viola! We were in (for some reason once you've lived in a place, and felt totally a part of it, you always feel entitled and welcome to visit--even if in reality it's an old house you have no right to enter)! This is our old living room--check out the awesome wood paneling. Love it. :)

Then we drove down to the Sands, where I played as a kid for hours at a time. Yep, it's still beautiful, even in winter.

The dock at the Sands.

Well, now it's back to work. It's time for me to pick out a new book to read online (Kim was good after I got through the first couple of chapters. It seems like all old books are like that).

don't send me stupid e-mails

2008-11-25T08:41:00.000-08:00

So, the college (where I work) has an "emergency website." I'm not really sure what that means, but it must be a big deal because they just sent out a campus-wide email (that was like 291.2 pages long) telling us about it. Yes, this website will be used in the event of an emergency on the campus. So, if the 410 building burns down, we can at least take comfort in knowing that we can log-on to an emergency website. I wonder if it has calming colors? I feel safer already. Golly gee, this is exciting.

At 2 o'clock today they're going to switch to the emergency website (just as a trial run, of course--if they left it for long students would panic, you know). I know I can't wait. I'm so glad they sent out that email.

Turkey Day: T-minus 2 days and counting! Can you tell I need a break?

I took part in the mania

2008-11-24T05:16:00.000-08:00

It could've been better, could've been worse. A good bit of it was crazy dramatic and way corny, but that was to be expected, so I really can't complain. A couple of scenes really bothered me, but overall I wasn't disappointed. It's just such a great story (props to the BYU grad!), how can you not love it in the end? And yes, I'm still on Team Jacob!

I'm still trying to figure out why the director didn't ask me to be in the movie, though...it just doesn't make any sense! Sure, I don't act, but I'm paler than Snow White and would have saved them a lot of money on make-up. Plus, I wouldn't have minded spending time around this particular vampire cast. I just hope the director realizes his mistake and contacts me before the next movie.

shirley temple

2008-11-18T09:41:00.000-08:00

Before now, I never really understood why Shirley Temple movies were such great hits. Corny and predictable, they never could hold my attention for more than fifteen minutes at a time. The plotlines seemed unrealistic and pointless, really, and though I was told in class the reasons for their success, I never really understood them.

The era of the Great Depression is marked in American consciousness as the epitome of financial disaster and poverty, a time of ultimate desperation. During those years the future seemed bleak and distant, there was no good news to be found at any turn, and an air of solemnity hung heavily all across the country (and the world, for that matter). In the midst of this crisis, people barraged incessantly by the forlorn news of reality sought to escape it all for a few hours, and found that temporary solace in Shirley Temple. That's what I was taught in school, but I didn't really understand it. Why would hard-working people waste precious pennies on a corny-cute movie? Weren't they being irresponsible and irrational, ignoring the problems with which they were faced? Also, I didn't see how a movie could really help. It was only two hours, and the cheerfulness wasn't real--so how could it really help?

I think I understand now. I don't for a minute try to equate the current state of our nation with that of the Great Depression--that would be a bit ridiculous, and I have to admit that I roll my eyes whenever someone on the news channel does just that. Yes, we're headed in that direction, but we're not there yet, and we can change things (hopefully). But I do feel like every time I turn on the television, the news goes from bad to worse.

Stocks are crashing, banks are failing, companies are downsizing, thousands are losing their jobs, losing their homes, their livelihoods, and their dreams. Not a day goes by that I'm not barraged with the bad news. It's a constant, steady pummeling, dangerously close to stifling. I'm tired of it, so tired of it. I just want a break! Is that too much to ask? All I want to do is forget the world for a few hours, and pretend that life is bliss. I want to go to the theater and watch Shirley Temple tap dance.

...good thing Twilight comes out on Friday!

I cannot wait...

2008-11-14T06:09:00.000-08:00

...for Thanksgiving!!!

I think I look forward to it more than Christmas. What a dork, right?

And this year I get to be at Granny's for the first time in five years! Whoo hoo! Hurry up, November 27th!

PS: I like this article, it's kind of interesting: http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2008/11/light-pollution/klinkenborg-text/1

PSS: Well, I actually like the pictures more. Here's the link straight to those: http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2008/11/light-pollution/richardson-photography

ode to the eye-roll

2008-11-13T08:57:00.000-08:00

It's such a small gesture, requiring very little bodily movement and absolutely no strenuous effort. Yet, in an instant, this same gesture can irrefutably declare to the person at whom it is directed that his or her actions/words/thoughts are, in the opinion of the eye-roller, completely and utterly ridiculous, asinine, unfounded, and unnecessary. It's a powerful and annoying weapon, wielded by persons of every age, really, but is often employed as the heavy artillery of adolescents in particular.

The ability to roll their eyes at someone is stupidly (and quite immaturely) empowering to the powerless. When my boss asks me to do something ridiculous, I glean an inestimable amount of satisfaction from rolling my eyes at her behind her back. It makes me feel as though I've said my piece, even though I really haven't (is it "said my piece" or "peace"? Hmm..."piece" makes more sense to me). I've actually voiced my thoughts before, respectfully, but that only led to a long drawn out explanation describing my boss's convoluted reasoning, which I naturally found faulty in the end, yet still had no power to denounce.

Maybe one day I will no longer be one of the powerless, forced to resort to such petty action in order to release my frustration. Maybe soon I'll grow out of the juvenile habit. For now, though, I'll roll my eyes when I think something/someone is dumb.

gunfire lullaby

2008-11-11T13:05:00.000-08:00

I'm probably one of the few people in this world who find the sound of gunfire in the distance comforting.

I grew up in Port Royal, a beautiful little Southern town by the bay, directly across the sound from Parris Island, South Carolina. On long summer nights, when dusk finally faded into darkness and I lay snuggly curled up in my bed, during that hazy time between waking and sleep, I drifted off listening to the steady report of gunfire. I equated the sound with safety, and with home. Even now when I hear the sound, or that of a jet flying overhead, I subconsciously relax, a habit formed from a lifetime of associating those sounds with some of my most peaceful moments.

Today is Veterans' Day, and the men and women we honor on this day doubtlessly equate the sound of gunfire with much more than a balmy Southern night. These men and women have faced death head-on; they have seen it, smelled it, and heard it. Our nation's soldiers have sacrificed on countless levels, and have served on the behalves of every man, woman, and child who make their homes on American ground.

My grandfather (the pics I've posted are of him) served in the US Navy during the Korean War, and this is the first Veterans' Day since that conflict that he has not been alive to see. He was, and is, a great man, a very model of generosity and selfless love, and though he had to struggle with illness for decades upon decades, he still continued to make an impact on his world until the very end. I love and miss him dearly. To him, and all others who have served, do serve, or will serve, I want to say thank you. In the midst of the current state of our union, people forget to remember your honor and fortitude, and belittle the efforts you make or have made in the presence of continual danger. You have given me freedom and peace, both as a young child lulled to sleep by rumbling rhythms, and as an adult walking freely across American soil.

When you drive past the Marine Corps Air Station (also in my hometown), a sign (put up in response to complaints regarding the loud rumbling of jets overhead) reads "The Sound You Hear is the Sound of Freedom." That sign always makes me smile.

breakfast is the most important meal of the day

2008-11-10T05:18:00.001-08:00

I had a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit for breakfast this morning. I wanted it, I craved it; traffic was quick today, and I got to work 25 minutes early--all signs pointed to Burger King. I went to the drive-thru, and after some confusion over which window to pull up to (advancing and reversing multiple times were involved), I had my breakfast biscuit (plus hashbrowns and orange juice).

Now I feel like I've rubbed grease all over my face, and I feel sick-ish, and more than a little bit unhealthy.

...And yet, it was oddly worth it.

I'll pretend I'm going to Sweden

2008-11-06T09:17:00.001-08:00

If you know me, you know how much I want to see the world. I've always been fascinated with the idea of place, and the significance place has in the human psyche (I'm not sure 'psyche' is the right word, but I'm using it anyway). Also, if you know me, you know I just don't have a lot of money to do all the things I want to do, especially travel. So I'm making a wishlist of all the places I want to see before I die. Here's the first item on the list: Stockholm, and the Swedish archipelago (along with a little side trip to Vingaker, land of my ancestors!).

Walking/biking trail just outside Stockholm

Sailing by the archipelago--hmm, it looks like I'll have to learn to sail before I go.

Tiny pond by the roadside in Vingaker.

Along the coast of the archipelago (posted by JimmyReu on Flickr)

If only these were my own travel pictures! Sigh, they're not (from visitsweden.com). Maybe one day, though, right? It doesn't hurt to kill time at work making a wishlist.

I think like this when I'm tired.

2008-11-05T07:01:00.000-08:00

I am so tired that I'm not sure I'm actually awake.

I sat in traffic for 2+ hours this morning because a couple of idiots couldn't be bothered to look over their shoulders while switching lanes (I'm not heartless--everyone's ok).

I hear that if you bring in old campaign signs to Sticky Fingers today that they'll give you a free entree. There are a few of those sitting right outside my office (signs, not entrees).

Too bad right now I feel too tired to even think about eating.

My boss thinks vegetarians eat chicken.

I have this song stuck in my head:
Life is like a hurricane, when in Duckberg; Racecars, lasers, aeroplanes--It's a duck-blur! Might solve a myyyyystery (do do dooo) Or rewrite hiiiiistory! Ducktales (woooo ooooooo)

D-D-D-Danger! Watch behind you! There's a stranger out to find you! What to do? Just grab on to some DuckTales (woo ooooo)

I know I left parts out, but these are the good parts. What a great show. I liked the Scottish duck, even though he was bad. How can you not like someone with a thick Scottish brogue?

I also used to like Gummi Bears. Another great show.

I had a crush on Gusto. Sure, he was a bear, but he was my favorite color, and all artsy and whimsical. Sigh.

What a dorky kid I was. Good thing I've grown out of that. ;)

And oh yeah, we have a new president. He's got a tough job ahead of him, that's for sure--but I think he's up to it. He's going to have to be. I hope he listens to everyone like he says he will. Promises are easy to make. Time will tell. I'll stay hopeful.

Eloquence personified: http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/11/04/mccain.transcript/

That's dignity, people. Let's take his advice and unite.

Rock the Vote

2008-11-04T09:37:00.000-08:00

It is, of course, election day, and I have proudly done my duty and cast a vote for the next President of the United States (I actually did so this weekend, because I am lucky enough to be at work all day today). An undeniable sense of excitement permeates the air on days like this, because the opportunity to have even a small part in such a monumental decision is truly amazing, even if I am not particularly enthusiastic about either of the two leading candidates.

Today I am proud to be an American. It's wonderful that in this, in voting, we as a nation can all come together. I am proud of every person who today, in spite of the formidable weather, heads over to his or her designated location and casts a ballot. The fact that our predecessors were able to establish a system that truly enables the peaceful transition of power is astounding to the nth power. Just ask, well, any pre-American civilization. Ask Bloody Mary or Joan of Arc; ask Louis XVI, Julius Caesar, or Openchancanough; ask even modern leaders, like Laurent Nkunda, Hamid Karzai, or Aung San Suu Kyi. Sure, Americans have encountered bumps in the road (there was that certain matter of the Civil War and the subsequent decades of Civil Rights movements), but overall, we make it look so easy. I wish more people could understand that, and were grateful for it. I wish we didn't take it so much for granted.

That said, I will be so glad when this election is over. I, for one, have heard about all the campaigning I can take. I'm sick of the mudslinging (in all directions), sick of SNL, sick of regular news channels. I'm glad they so diligently covered the issues, because they helped me decide which candidate to vote for--but that doesn't mean I'm not glad that it's all coming to a close. I think I was almost to the point of overload, possibly on the brink of a frustration-induced explosion. I will be tremendously relieved to not hear anymore about the race for the White House. Finally, we will be able to move on!

So, for those of you who share my sympathies, and want to think about something other than the election for a few minutes (after you've voted, of course :) ), here's an interesting tidbit about a previous November 4th, courtesy of the History Channel's website.

November 4, 1939
The first air-conditioned car is displayed

On this day, the 40th National Automobile Show opened in Chicago, Illinois, with a cutting-edge development in automotive comfort on display: air-conditioning. A Packard prototype featured the expensive device, allowing the vehicle's occupants to travel in the comfort of a controlled environment even on the most hot and humid summer day. After the driver chose a desired temperature, the Packard air-conditioning system would cool or heat the air in the car to the designated level, and then dehumidify, filter, and circulate the cooled air to create a comfortable environment.

Air conditioning is my friend. Packard, you are an unsung hero. I salute you.

weekend weirdness

2008-11-03T07:09:00.000-08:00

This weekend I saw the movie Max Payne. I had no idea what it was about, but there wasn't much to do, so I saw it.

Now, I understand that there are weird people in this world, with a lot of dumb ideas. I'm not going to pretend like I don't have dumb ideas sometimes, because I do. Dumb ideas are funny, they're entertaining, and goodness knows they keep me distracted in boring places, like work, or the 3 1/2 hour long line for early voting (that was another fun part of my weekend). What I don't understand, however, is how some weird people with dumb ideas can get millions of dollars to make a movie of their dumb idea. The word ridiculous doesn't even begin to describe my opinion of this particular movie. It was cliche (how do you make that little accent over the e?), predictable, and as weird as, well, a vegetarian vampire (team Jacob!). Actually, I take that back--it isn't as weird as a vegetarian vampire. That's strange enough to be interesting, and this was just strange enough to be stupid. There, I said it. I thought the movie was stupid. Let's just say that characters roared in this movie.

But that's just my opinion. My brother liked it well enough, though he wasn't exactly clamoring in line to buy another ticket.

I think sneezing is the closest people can get to roaring. Random, dumb thought, I know. If only I had millions, I could make a movie out of it.

All Hallow's Eve

2008-10-31T06:19:00.000-07:00

Woo hoo! October 31st! Why is Halloween so dang great, you ask? I will enlighten you...

Yay for eighties hair, black cats, Harry Potters, and stealthy ninjas! Hoorah for grinning jack-o-lanterns, haunted houses, and spooky cemetaries! Yipee (I'm running out of excited expressions!) for mummies, pirates, and the chance to be a kid again! Yeehaw for the start of November!

And of course, a big whoopee for candy! Chocolate, please. :)

I really can't remember the last time I dressed up for Halloween (I'm just not creative in that way), but I love seeing everyone else's costumes, especially the little kids! They just get so darn excited! Dress up! Take pictures, and trick or treat!

I'm addicted to National Geographic, and of course they have an excellent Halloween article! Enjoy! http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2008/10/081027-halloween-facts-costumes-history.html

PS: Starbucks hazelnut hot chocolate = barf!

Spice Muffins

2008-10-30T12:00:00.000-07:00

My boss keeps cramming spice muffins down my throat. It's true! She grabs me and with inhuman strength forces my jaw open, then shoves the muffin into my mouth!

Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration--but she might as well be! She keeps bringing the plastic container full of muffins (which she acquired from another department and did not actually bring herself) up to me, holding it right in front of my face, and saying "Take one! Come on, take one!" Then, she comes up again, minutes later, and says "Have another! Take one more!" When I tell her that I am not hungry, she simply repeats the action again, most likely in hopes that during the second-long interval that has elapsed since she last assaulted me that my hunger would have mysteriously increased ten-fold. So, I take the muffin, and I eat it, because I for some ridiculous reason don't have the heart to throw it away. Oh well, at least they're not banana nut muffins.

On another note, there have been entertaining conversations in the office this morning.

Co-worker 1: I wanted to make Halloween muffins, with spiders on them, but couldn't figure out how to make the legs.
Co-worker 2: Use liquish.
C1: What are you talking about, liquish?
C2: Isn't that what it's called? Liii-quisshh.
[it was later determined that liquish = licorice]

C1: We need some music in here!
C2: Yeah, so you can go ahead and bust a bruise!
[translation: bust a move]

All of my co-workers are bright and intelligent. It was just one of those days. :)

Thoughts on the coming November

2008-10-29T08:46:00.000-07:00

It's Halloween on Friday, and that means November starts this very week! I can't believe how quickly this year has gone from April on (I'll be honest--my pre-Carolina days this year absolutely dragged). I don't know why it is, but once the calendar is flipped to November, I consider the year over. It's stupid, because there are still two entire months left, but it's what I do. Once you hit Halloween, things go full speed ahead straight on into New Years, and then we start the whole wonderful mess all over again (not that it ever really stops)!

I like the fall; I like November. It was always my favorite month growing up, a brief and novel respite from the balmly Carolina evenings, sweltering summer days, and sand-gnat infested Spring afternoons (are you supposed to capitalize seasons? I dunno...). I like the coolness of fall, and even a bit of the chill. I probably relish it only because it really doesn't last long here in the lowcountry, and never gets quite frigid enough to deter me from wearing my ever-favorite flip-flops. [ugh, my boss just interrupted me for 5 entire minutes--how dare she bother me with trivial things pertaining to work when I'm busy with my oh-so-important first blog!]. Yes, even in my youth November captured my heart because of Thanksgiving. It was always my favorite holiday, and still is. I wrote a paper about that very theme in the 5th grade (those were the days: What is your favorite holiday, and why; must be 5 paragraphs minimum-oh, how daunting!). I love food, and the absolute most glorious bite on earth consists of turkey, gravy, stuffing, and mashed potatoes all somehow crammed onto a single fork. Furthermore, for my child-self there was something wonderfully fascinating about the Pilgrims and the Indians coming together to partake in one of the few rituals that is found all across the vast cultural spectrum of the single human race: meal-time! It was a greatly romanticized tale of my youth, and I imagined a beautiful Indian maiden passing the maize to her grateful buckle-wearing new friend. Only later did I learn that things didn't turn out too well for the maiden, and that her Pilgrim friend wasn't grateful for long.

I wish childish whimsies weren't squashed by knowledge of the real world. Disillusionment is a bear, and sometimes I ignore it and and pretend it never happened, and act as though the world is mostly right. It's funny, but in pretending things are good, they usually really become that way. How's that for a philisophical quandary? Oh, it takes me back to my high school Theory of Knowledge class (TOK, we cool kids called it), the same class during which I had the misfortune to plant my behind firmly on a chewed wad of gum (so thoughtfully left in my chair by a student in whatever was the previous class), inspiring a teacher-student bridge building experience with Goo-Gone (this was with the majority of the class; I was lucky enough to win a bathroom pass to scrape what remnants I could off of my awesome LEI jeans).

Anyway, I've gotten off track, but the title of my blog should have warned you. Happy Fall, Happy Halloween, and Happy November (almost)!

PS: Herman Melville got it all wrong--there could never be "a damp, drizzly November in my soul"--at least not as long as I'm here!