Two Stories

Two very interesting things happened to me this weekend..

A Rescue Mission
Saturday was Clayton’s, my brother-in-law, wedding day, so I dropped Daniel off at the church for some picture taking, and I tried to decide where to go to spend the next hour. I started to dial his mom’s number when all of the sudden, I noticed that my car seemed to be acting odd. It also appeared that I wasn’t moving. I looked around and hit the gas, but the car didn’t budge, then I tried reverse and it stayed stuck. So I jumped out only to realize that my car was stuck in a ditch, and the back driver’s side wheel was sticking straight up in the air.

I looked around to see if anyone had seen my predicament, and I immediately saw Daniel, Clayton and the rest of the Wedding Party Groomsmen running towards my car. Together they heroically pushed me out of the ditch and I went on my merry (and embarrassed) way. Needless to say, I was the butt of a few jokes for the rest of the day, but I'd like to call it a wedding day miracle. Also, the moral of the story is: Do not try to dial a cell phone while driving.

The Monster in the Bushes
Every fall I buy Mums to decorate my porch, then I promptly proceed to forget to water them and they die. Well Friday, determined to be a good “mum” to my mums, I grabbed a big pitcher of water only to discover that it had rained the day before, so they were already a bit waterlogged. Unsure of what to do with the unneeded water, I just threw it in a couple of my bushes, and that is when I heard the sound.

“Mew. Mew.” Such a soft noise, but it was very distinct. My mind started racing. Maybe there was a cute cuddly kitten living in one of my bushes. I listened for the sound again, but after a few minutes things were still silent. I looked around the front of the bush to see if I could get a glimpse of the mysterious kitten. By this time, I was getting a little bit wary, but I decided to get on my front porch and see if I could find anything from behind the bush. “Here kitty kitty kitty kitty,” I cooed a few times, each time moving my head closer to the bushes in question. “Here kitty kitty kitty…”

Suddenly the bush started moving and rustling and I dropped my water pitcher, screamed like I was being attacked by zombies, ran in my house and locked the door. After about 10 minutes of heavy breathing and peering through my front window at the bush, I called Daniel who refused to believe me when I told him that there was something living in our bushes, and even had the nerve to tell me that it was ”just the wind and I needed to stop imagining things.” Well I have news for him, “Mr. It’s Just the Wind,” there IS something living in the bushes and it’s probably some sort of zombie mutant cat that will eventually try to eat our brains. And when that happens, he’ll be sorry, and I’ll want to tell him “I told you so," but I won’t because I’ll be far away in my zombie protection shelter. So take that Daniel!

Ummm, but the moral of the story is: Do not water your plants.

It's Coming!!

So October is my favorite month. First of all, there is great weather, (present circumstances aside), beautiful scenery, great food (I loves me some chili), and of course, there is HALLOWEEN!

My all time favorite holiday, I love Halloween more than a pig loves shit. And even though I stole that quote from Julie Powell, it's still true. Although she was talking about her husband, and not Halloween....but this is serious business here.

Top 5 Things I Love About Halloween:

5. Making Spooky Food: I am always so happy when I get to plan out party food, and no party food makes me happier than "spooky" food. Why does taco dip taste better if it looks like a spiderweb? Why do cookies seem a little crunchier when they look like fingers? One of life's great mysteries I guess.

4. Trick or Treaters: So because Daniel and I haven't squeezed out any little ones yet, that means I don't really get a chance to meet the neighborhood kids, or the adult ones either, for that matter. But on Halloween, my haunted graveyard, multiple jack-o-lanterns, and giant pot of candy draw the kids to my house like zombies to a shopping mall. So I get my kid fix in for the year, plus my neighbors are reassured that we aren't some crazy childless weirdos. (Except...we sort of are)

3. Scary Movies: I absolutely adore scary movies, and I'm not talking about some crappy Torture Porn movie like Saw or Hostel. I mean, some really well-made tense/frightening/scary films. Poltergeist is my all time favorite Halloween movie, and we've watched it on Halloween for the past 4 years. For more on this, see my post from last year. Movie Time

2. Costumes! Ever since I dressed up as Igor in the 3rd Grade, I realized that dressing up was awesome. And no crappy box costumes for this lady. The only good costumes are the ones you make by hand. It doesn't have to be perfect, and it could be made of your old clothes, but as long as you "made" it, it will feel so much more special. I was a zombie named Betty last year and it was amazing! She had an entire history, and a very nice (tasting) boyfriend named Steve.

1. My annual Halloween Party! The best part about my Halloween party, other than partying it up with all my friends, is that it encompasses all of the above! Not much in the world better than, being dressed up with my friends, eating spooky food, catching Poltergeist and scaring the trick-or-treaters. Last year's bash was amazing. Check out this post from my friend Nikki's blog. I was too lazy to update last year, but she did a great job!

Anyway, just wanted to display this new banner to remind me and everyone else of what's to come!

The price.

I finished a really good novel last night.

Tana French's "The Likeness" is the sequel to her earlier novel "In the Woods." "The Likeness," deals with a murder and an undercover detective. I won't go too much into the plot so as not to spoil anything, but the general gist of the story involves Cassie, the main character, going undercover into a group of very close friends. These five friends found a very intimate connection, and have moved into together to form a sort of mismatched family. As Cassie learns to integrate herself into this "family," there way of life begin to seem more and more appealing.

The novel really brought some big ideas to my attention. At the end of August, I took a trip to Kirksville and Truman State University to do a 5-year college reunion with my close friends. It was indescribably wonderful. Buildings had changed, businesses had closed and opened, but the overall atmosphere of the city and school were the same. We wandered aimlessly around the campus and the square. We haunted our old haunts, and discovered new ones equally enchanting. Every Kirksville food I touched tasted better than I had remembered, the town seemed more lovely and the campus more beautiful.

Planning the trip, I had completely expected to feel out of place, to enjoy myself and relive some old times, but that was it. I had not imagined I would feel so totally at home. As I looked around, I felt like I had never truly appreciated what had been around me for the four years I lived here. I could hear the excuses in the back of my head. There hadn't been enough time in the day, enough money in the bank, enough good weather. How could I have wasted my time here because of these small inconveniences?

In the novel, the leader of the group of friends, Daniel, talks about this sense of the "real world" encroaching on his lifestyle:

"I'm not by any stretch of the imagination a hero," he said, "and I don't consider myself to be insane. I don't think any of the others are either of those things. And yet I wanted us all to have that chance at freedom..."
"You asked me what I wanted. I spent a lot of time asking myself the same thing. By a year or two ago, I had come to the conclusion that I truly wanted only two things in this world: the company of my friends, and the opportunity for unfettered thought."

After my time at Truman, my mind was equally filled with dreams of what could have been, and returning to the "real world" was a challenge. The normal and sometimes not so happy details of my life seemed trivial in comparison to the dream life in my head. I know that those dreams are not made to last, as much as I may want them to, and Daniel realizes it too:

"It seemed like such a beautiful idea," he said..."The idea was flawed, of course," he said irritably. "Innately and fatally flawed. It depended on two of the human race's greatest myths: the possibility of permanence, and the simplicity of human nature...Our story should have stopped that night with the cold cocoa, the night we moved in: and they all lived happily ever after, the end. Inconveniently, however, real life demanded that we keep on living."

Maybe that's why the world in "The Likeness" seems so inviting, but yet so fragile. Throughout the story, the friends grasp each other tighter to keep their world afloat, but water always seeps in through the cracks. Life cannot remain stagnate, no matter how happy the time may be. "I have always accepted...that there is a price to pay," Daniel says.

The price of a life that stands still, however, is a bit too steep for me.

Haiku's

These aren’t really part of the “Back to School Theme” I have going on this month, but I am bored. Haiku’s are such a delight to write, and Brenda requested one the other day, so I thought I’d post some of the others I’ve been working on. Enjoy!

Red Paperclip Haiku
O red paperclip
Hidden in my fav'rite stall
I know your secret

For Brenda
Happy memories
Bounce them around in your mind
You, Pie & Grandma.

Rain
My, what a downpour
A blanketing of freshness
Wisping through the night

Twilight
Beware the Leechmen!
Flashing eyes & rock hard skin
Lead to Sparkling Death

Ode to Worst Fanfic Ever
One Hundred Horse Hooves
Wandering out in the snow
Lie about Feelings

She's All Growed Up

So as I was goofing off at work and messing around on the internet (whoops), I happened to notice my sister-in-law's facebook status. "Senior shirts are in!!"
My mouth dropped open and I stared at the screen. SENIOR shirts!?!?? How did my Emmo get to be a Senior in High School??

I knew she had been growing up. I mean, I've known her since she was four years old, and obviously I've noticed. She drives to school, works as a lifeguard, and I've noticed that lately she looks a lot more like Keira Knightly than Dakota Fanning. I know I have very distinctive memories of her being a freshman, sophomore, and junior. For some reason though, that's where it ends in my mind.

This has happened before. After high school, I called my sister a freshmen, as well as her classmates, about until the day she graduated. I remember staring in shock as all those "freshmen" walked across the stage, grabbing diplomas with glee.

I guess, in a way, keeping time stagnate is a defense mechanism. Emily staying a Junior is comforting for me and for her. Juniors have all the fun of the upperclassmen, but none of the stress of applying for colleges and preparing for graduation. Plus, I am safe in the knowledge that I still have a while before she leaves and grows up for real. However, time doesn't work that way, and Emmo is already loving being a senior, and I know she's going to experience all the crazy/awesome times that will come with it.

And because my whiney old lady butt can't stop you from growing up, I wish you good luck and many fun times, Emmo.

I love you. :-)

I searched for a good poem to describe time and growing up and stuff, but I couldn't find anything that really fit other than this. And although I'm not a father (obviously), I identify with that role here. It's a lovely poem, so enjoy! :-)

Locks

Neil Gaiman

We owe it to each other to tell stories,

as people simply, not as father and daughter.

I tell it to you for the hundredth time:

"There was a little girl, called Goldilocks,

for her hair was long and golden,

and she was walking in the Wood and she saw — "

"— cows." You say it with certainty,

remembering the strayed heifers we saw in the woods

behind the house, last month.

"Well, yes, perhaps she saw cows,

but also she saw a house."

"— a great big house," you tell me.

"No, a little house, all painted, neat and tidy."

"A great big house."

You have the conviction of all two-year-olds.

I wish I had such certitude.

"Ah. Yes. A great big house.

And she went in . . ."

I remember, as I tell it, that the locks

Of Southey's heroine had silvered with age.

The Old Woman and the Three Bears . . .

Perhaps they had been golden once, when she was a child.

And now, we are already up to the porridge,

"And it was too— "

"— hot!"

"And it was too— "

— cold!"

And then it was, we chorus, "just right."

The porridge is eaten, the baby's chair is shattered,

Goldilocks goes upstairs, examines beds, and sleeps,

unwisely.

But then the bears return.

Remembering Southey still, I do the voices:

Father Bear's gruff boom scares you, and you delight in it.

When I was a small child and heard the tale,

if I was anyone I was Baby Bear,

my porridge eaten, and my chair destroyed,

my bed inhabited by some strange girl.

You giggle when I do the baby's wail,

"Someone's been eating my prridge, and they've eaten it —"

"All up," you say. A response it is,

Or an amen.

The bears go upstairs hesitantly,

their house now feels desecrated. They realize

what locks are for. They reach the bedroom.

"Someone's been sleeping in my bed."

And here I hesitate, echoes of old jokes,

soft-core cartoons, crude headlines, in my head.

One day your mouth will curl at that line.

A loss of interest, later, innocence.

Innocence; as if it were a commodity.

"And if I could," my father wrote to me,

huge as a bear himself, when I was younger,

"I would dower you with experience, without experience."

and I, in my turn, would pass that on to you.

But we make our own mistakes. We sleep

unwisely.

It is our right. It is our madness and our glory.

The repetition echoes down the years.

When your children grow; when your dark locks begin to silver,

when you are an old woman, alone with your three bears,

what will you see? What stories will you tell?

"And then Goldilicks jumped out of the window and she ran —

Together, now: "All the way home."

And then you say, "Again. Again. Again."

We owe it to each other to tell stories.

These days my sympathy's with Father Bear.

Before I leave my house I lock the door,

and check each bed and chair on my return.

Again.

Again.

Again..