Things I Am Newly Addicted To

• Cruncheros

For some reason, this taquito product appeals to me. I don't eat them very often because more often than not, I'm like, what the h was I thinking? And I eat them late when I do eat them, which is even more dumb. They're bad for me, and really, they probably aren't the best representation of their kind. Why keep eating them? Addiction, duh.

• Puzzle books

Variety puzzle books are amazing. I get the Penny Press ones, and I don't have a subscription because when I have them I waste too much time on them as it is. But here's the thing: I am almost incapable of watching TV and doing nothing else, unless the program is really amazing or new to me. I have to have something to do with my hands, and frankly I can only take so much hand-held Yahtzee before I start to go bonkers. It turns out it's not just my hands, but also part of my brain that needs appeasement, and crosswords, word finds, cryptograms, in all types of arrangements, take care of me just fine.

• Flavorice

No one in his or her right mind can say no to Flavorice.

Things I Might Soon Be Addicted To

• X-Files on dvd. Eight episodes per two-disc set, three sets for the first season? Come on. EIGHT HOURS STRAIGHT OF X-FILES. Love it.
• Grilling. I made some pretty sweet burgers last night.

Had a fantastic...
no, that's not it...
I mean, dismal 24 hours in which I was repeatedly scared by lightning and tornado sirens, and liberally hid my head in some blankets. Fortunately, Bowling Green did not get smeared like it could have and my sanity and apartment are still intact.

Anthropomorphizing in the News

Hilarious tidbit from a local news website about a recent earthquake in Cleveland probably resulting from the Akron Magnetic something-or-other:
"It was formed when North America tried unsuccessfully to split a billion years ago."
It's OK, North America. We all fail sometimes.

So my eyes sting today because it was storming this morning and I was awakened at 7:20 am as opposed to remaining obliviously asleep until 10:30. Boo. It was the type of lightning/thunder that makes me cringe and cower a little, but then a particularly shocking flash will come along and I have to open my eyes, I just have to, to make sure a bomb didn't just go off.
We're supposed to have more storms today, but the sun has been "reluctant to participate," so perhaps we won't get hot enough to make anything happen.

Frankly, I need to get some sleep tonight so I can get up fully charged for the US vs. Ghana footie game tomorrow. That's right, I said footie. Not the kind that you put on before you try on shoes at the shoe store, but the kind that we so stubbornly call soccer when no one else does. I don't really care, I just want to see good looking boys run around and kick a ball.
Speaking of which, did anyone else find the ESPN headline "France Blow It" disturbing? We can argue about whether France is a collective noun, but wouldn't it have been easier to write, "French Blow It," which ultimately sounds better? It's the same number of letters, and is more consistent with the announcers, who would have said "France blows it," and have in fact said similar things all World Cup long.
Furthermore, I have finally identified the Irish voice I was hearing in some of the World Cup matches; his name is Tommy Smyth, his accent is mad fun, and did you know there is an entire organization for Gaelic games?

Hot Monday

Here I am in my office eating a gigantic ham and munster sandwich. I just dropped ham down my dress by accident. I also ate some cottage cheese because I can't get enough dairy. I love lunch.
I also love Bing cherries, and yesterday I got some at Meijer and ate too many last night. It's hard to stop eating Bing cherries. My mom used to get them a lot and she'd put out a bowl on the table, and they'd be pretty much gone by the end of the day. It's a good system.
Today it's hothothot, and we're under a storm warning; at this point a storm might be a blessing (and I can't believe I just said that) because it'd probably cool things down a little. My apartment is absurdly warm. I almost--ALMOST--got out of my bed last night to take a cool bath...considering my love for my bed and my dislike of cold water, that was something to think about.
So far I'm doing a really great job avoiding writing my book review. I don't know what the fuss is; I usually do a decent job, and it takes me no time at all once I get going, but for some reason starting it is so hard. I even have notes, like always, of poems I could talk about and lines I particularly responded to. No dice.
I plan to grill this week. I got some thin t-bone steaks to experiment with, and I have some ribeyes in the freezer, along with burger, so I have some options. I can't explain how much I enjoy a fairly cheap, well-marbled ribeye steak on the bone. I've really only ever had one bad one, and that was my fault, because I bought one where the fat was sort of grainy and disintegrating off the steak. Gross. And dumb. But a nice one with some soy sauce, Accent, pepper, and parsley rubbed in there and broiled...awesome. I've never grilled before, so we'll see what happens. My neighbor, who I said could break in the new grill while I was home, said it works great, but he's probably grilled before. I am a grilling novice.
I have eaten too much for lunch and I believe I will be going for a walk before I settle in to work.

Hello, children.
I'm back from Lisa and James's wedding in Hobart/Valparaiso, Indiana, the first wedding I've been to where I've known the groom for longer than the bride, but also where I know both bride and groom equally well, as do many of my friends.
The wedding was lovely, the bride and groom relaxed (at least they looked it) and clearly a handsome couple. I love weddings where there isn't any nervous or tense silence. Even when people make mistakes it should feel normal, or just comfortable and familylike. At this wedding, there weren't any mistakes, and even the silences felt natural. It was a good wedding.
The reception was a good time for everybody. We ate buffet, and even before we ate they did the toasts. The cake was even cut right away, without a lot of fanfare. Same with the couple's first dance. It was sort of like, ok, let's do the wedding stuff while we are calm and unsweaty, then relax more and cut loose and spend time with people without having to be pulled away for duties. A lot of times they space that stuff out through the reception, and it's hard to get everyone together, especially when they're talking to people. Here, everything was all done and we could dance, and early-to-bedders didn't have to miss those moments.
I'm throwing a shout-out to The Safes here. There was a DJ for the first part of the reception, then the band played, and they really got the dance floor working, with a good mixture of songs from different times. I got very sweaty, the strapless bra ended up about two inches lower than it should be a few times, and I got told by the dance superstar of the evening, who is four, that since she did such a good job dancing, I owe her money. It was hilarious.
I have some nice pictures of people, but I feel leery about posting without their permission, so instead, here's my room at the Courtyard Marriott:

More stitchery adventures

So I'm nearly done with dress number two for the week. It's made out of this blue patterned crinkled fabric, not the ordinary crinkled cotton, but...well, it's hard to describe. It's a bit heavy, sort of like that material you see demi-pleated satiny pillow cases made out of. I had a very hard time trying to figure out how on earth to cut it and sew it, and selected a pattern I thought I could work with only to decide another was better and cut out pattern pieces twice.
After discovering that this fabric would NOT sew as is, I decided to treat it sort of like a knit, so have produced stretch seams with a ball-point needle. Thing of that is, the dress would then be slightly too big (and it is), but oddly enough that problem can be mostly fixed by eliminating the zipper and just stitching a tighter seam in the back. The fabric and seams will give enough for me to get it on without a zipper, which actually eliminates some work. It also may give me enough fabric to make straps out of, because I'll be able to cut off some of the extra (I bought all of the fabric of this type there was, which wasn't much. Straps were going to have to be ribbon).
Sewing this stuff is insanely hard, though, because the machine skips stitches, or makes really long stitches intermixed with normal knit-style stitches. Basically, the machine hates, hates, hates this fabric. I've gone over seams multiple times (which you ordinarily do with knits anyway, just not because of stitch gaps) and hand-stitched a few stubborn spots.
Basically, I'm winging it. Probably Tim Gunn is rolling over in his Parsons School desk chair, but I think I'm doing pretty well for fabric I have no idea how to use and a pattern that really doesn't go with the fabric. I think it will look pretty good once I get that back seam in and some adjustments made. Really, I am actually sort of enjoying the obstacles...I'm frustrated, but it's keeping my mind and hands busy. My knee isn't really enjoying the sewing positions on the floor, but the rest of me is enjoying the design challenge.
Speaking of which, Project Runway 3 starts JULY 12! MARK YOUR CALENDARS! I think that's the date. Maybe don't rely on me to mark your calendars.

Finished in Two Days

If you're wondering how cute I am going to be this weekend, here:





What's that? You want to see the dress more closely?

Hair - 4 inches

Do you love my haircut?










Here, why don't you look at it in color?

Are my eyes usually this gi-normous?

Busy Weekend

My weekend was pretty busy; I was at home working the dance recital of the studio I attended for 18 years. It was good to see everybody, and to participate backstage in a routine I know so well. I miss being onstage a lot. I was sort of the mother hen of our group, since I was older than most of the girls, and now I've just been applying those skills to assisting the stage manager with all the needs during the show. For instance, we had one dance in which to "quick change" four girls from a tap costume to a jazz costume.
I also got to spend some time with my parents, though not a whole lot because I was running around so much during the day and at the theater at night. It was nice to sit down to a family meal with them on Sunday before I left, and to eat some dinner leftovers Friday night. My Mom is a great cook and I needed a little fattening up. My parents were amazed that I was drinking so much milk. In the few days I was home, I drank over a half gallon myself.
And now I'm back. I watched the US lose to Czech Republic in World Cup today, which was a shame. They weren't playing the fiery footie of which they are capable, that's for sure. Everyone says this is a great team this year, but they sure didn't look the way, say, the 1996 team did, with energy and panache. Those players had charisma. These guys probably do, too, but they weren't showing it. I'm hoping for better luck with Italy.
I also have to sew rather a lot this week in order to have my dress (or dresses...I need options) ready for my friends' wedding this upcoming weekend. I guess I better go home and do that.

American Girls

When I was young, I wanted desperately a Samantha doll from the American Girls collection. I saved up for her, and relatives sent me money for her at birthdays and Christmas. Then, I decided that if I was going to have the doll, I wanted all her stuff (over a thousand dollars worth), so I kept saving. Then, I decided that having the money was pretty great, too, and I never got the doll. Possibly some day I will still get Samantha...if I can get Nintendo 64 for nostalgia, a doll is not out of the question.
Today, I was perusing the American Girl catalog. They still have the historical dolls I remember, and the prices are pretty much the same. Much of the stuff has gone away, now that they have a lot more dolls, both historical and otherwise. They've had to balance the stuff with the variety of dolls. One of the cool things back in the day was that they had dresses you could wear to look like your Kirsten doll, or your Samantha doll. I always wanted Kirsten's prairie dresses and Samantha's birthday dress. Mostly they only have the nighties now, and other, less historical wear if you want to match your AG doll. But, oh lordy, have they added stuff. There are more historical dolls, for sure, but also dolls that look like you. They have one that looks like me, with light skin, brown hair, and blue eyes, but they also have a doll that has (get ready for it) light skin with freckles, blue eyes, and brown hair with HIGHLIGHTS! Highlights? Are you kidding? Sun-bleaching, natural style, I can understand, but these look dyed in. Are there eleven-year-old girls out there with dyed-in highlights? Why?
Not only that, but the pure abundance of whatnot you can get for your doll is crazy...Irish, African, or Native American dance costumes, ice skates, soccer uniforms, a whole schoolroom, canopy beds, three different horses, a brocade ballgown, fake lunch money (5 dollars! where do you go to school, American Girl?)...I thought it was pretty great when they had an accessory set for each historical doll for each book they wrote about her. Now, they've replaced that with hair salons and sleepover gear. I feel overwhelmed, but I also wonder about the state of imagination for kids today. I remember making caps and tents for My Little Ponies out of wallpaper samples and milk caps, thanks to my sister's craftiness. Do kids *make* stuff anymore? Certainly, this American Girl stuff is pretty amazing, but I have to ponder how much is too much.

Today I Ran....

TWO MILES. And then walked another mile.
I had a break of several days, there was grass being mown, my allergies are going nuts, but I ran two whole miles without stopping.
Who am I and what have I done with myself?

Don't need no lullaby

Today I am that unbelievable kind of drowsy where, no matter what I do or how many naps I take or how much fresh air I get, I can't wake up. My good buddy Michelle has come and gone from Colorado, dance recital is on the near horizon, at which I will help, but today I have just done absolutely nothing and I can't even care.

el futbol

Sabres lose, Tigers win, Pistons....well, we'll just wait and see.
But in other sports news, the World Cup is just around the corner.
Why do I love soccer? Here's a few reasons:

1. The boys are, on average, cuter than in any other sport, except perhaps baseball.
2. It's like hockey on grass; slower, maybe, but only because the field is huge.
3. When I was catsitting with my sister, we used to watch the 1994 World Cup on cable when we visited, since we didn't have it. We actually timed our visits to watch big US games. This was the first big year when there was a lot of fuss over the US team, and it was on US turf. I remember the People magazine article about it, with pictures of men like John Harkes, who is one of the most handsome men in the world. I had a crush on Claudio Reyna at the time. Ah, the 90s.
4. When I was in Italy, I went to a Fiorentina game with my friend Jelena, since a relative of hers, Pedja Mijatovic, was playing with the club at the time. Pedja had been a crazy-huge star in Spain and was still with the Yugoslavian team at the time also. I have one of his jerseys. The game was intensely crazy, even I started yelling "Vai! VAI!" (Go! GO!) and even though Fiorentina lost, it was hella fun to watch the players getting stripped by a mob of fans after the game. Those Italians love their pallone.

The only thing that no longer appeals to me so much about soccer is that the US team has a whole cadre of players who are younger than I am (10) or about my age (6). I've reached that point, friends, where pro athletes are younger than I am and, if they're my age, they better start looking over their shoulders.

A little hockey love.

Let me just give a couple of shout-outs here to Shawn Horcoff and Ryan Miller.
These former Spartans have really torn up the NHL, and I couldn't be more proud to have seen them on the ice many times in person.
Take Shawn: one year ahead of me. I had three years to watch him with season tickets at Munn Arena, though I actually watched him a few games the year before as well. And now? Best center in the west, according to Sports Illustrated, playing for the Oilers, where before him Anson Carter (now a Canuck) and Mike York (now an Islander) tread. He's called one of the best penalty killers, which certainly squares with a season when the Spartans had just as many shorthanded goals as they had power play goals...which was a lot. Yay for Shawn for being in the Stanley Cup finals, even if they did have to play the Wings to do it. Sing the fight song with Rem Murray for me, will you?
Now let's size up Ryan Miller, the shutout king for the Spartans. Many were confused when the Sabres started to play awesomely, but not me. They had Miller, and I'd seen him play. Certainly he struggled initially with pro play, but that's natural. I expected that, but knew greatness was in store. He was skinny, not untried. He bulked up, studied in the minors for a year, then came back to help the Sabres rip up the season and these playoffs. They've got a tough game 7 against Carolina coming up, but I feel pretty satisfied that one of my home-grown boys has been working for his team Spartan-style. He was part of the Spartan goaltending legacy, and has pushed that legacy to further glory.
And what happens if my guys go head to head for the Cup? Do I start cheering for the Oibres or the Salers? Everybody wins. It doesn't get any better than that.
Fight! Fight! Rah Team Fight! Victory for MSU!

Another post about running.

So, lately I've been jogging...regularly.
I'm trying to make this make sense. Consider:
When I was young, I was an awesome runner. I was faster than any girl in my class, and faster than most of the boys. In fact, I was the only girl who ran the fifty-yard playground dash during recess in elementary school that wasn't trying to get boys to like her and therefore intentionally losing. I could beat almost anyone in my class, except Mikey Bargey and Gordon Kiewiet, and on occasion Brian Boldizar or Jason McHenry. I wasn't good at such President's Physical Fitness Test events as "Steal the Bacon," but when it came to a straight track shot or a couple of laps, I was usually first.
Gradually things changed, and my friends Tracy Schmelzer and Ann Siegrist caught up with me, and later Sunshine Nelson, maybe one or two others. I was dancing a lot more, which changes your musculature, while they were playing basketball and softball. Still, I was pretty darn quick, and I remember in middle school when we'd go over to run on the high school track (which involved walking through the woods), and sometimes my sister's class would be out there. That's how I achieved the name "Flo Jo," after winning a particularly big race (I can't even remember what the heck it was, just that I won and then collapsed), and having her cheer for me, which ruled.
In seventh grade I ran track officially, hurdles, which was pretty great. I was trying to get out of distance running at that point, because it made me queasy, and while I wasn't a particularly great hurdle runner, I was more flexible than most of the girls who hadn't done that sort of thing before. Basically, I was the best beginner we had. I ran 60s and 100s, but did better at 100s because I could get up more speed between the hurdles. I have a picture of me flying over a hurdle, actually...it was during my awkward stage, so I won't be showing you unless I'm tipsy. My best friend Ann ran 60s with me, and we often went 1-2 in a race, me at #2, but I won quite a few 100 races, too, or at least came in first out of our runners. I hated running hurdle relays, though...I didn't like being dependent on others' performances.
One big track meet we needed another 4X400 runner, and I got tapped. I was coordinated with a baton, and I remember very clearly that I had a lot of ground to make up on my lap. We actually came in 8th, which was good enough for a medal. After that race, my coach tried to make me a permanent 400 runner, but I actually refused. The season was almost over, I was beginning to hate the queasiness from running a distance, and I wanted to dance more. So, by eighth grade, track was out. It wasn't good for my dance muscles, and I knew my Mom didn't like watching me on hurdles. She'd seen me wipe out a few times in practice.
I still had to run in gym, though, and I plunged on through the required 1-mile and 2-mile races, along with others. I can honestly say I only missed track once or twice, while watching others run hurdles in practices. I was too busy with dance, piano, and other projects, and I sure didn't miss feeling sick...I mean, if you're going to be so overheated and tired you're nauseous, you might as well be wearing a tutu, right?
But I was a bit harassed by Mr. Greider, who was coaching cross country at the time. He wanted me to go out for cross, and I probably would have been good at it, but I resisted. It felt nice to be pursued for cross, but there was no way I was going to run that much. I remember once I had a past dance injury bothering me; I didn't realize I was limping at all until he pointed it out. I think at that point I made some explanation about dance and I remember he didn't bother me much after that. I'd made my choice and was obviously dedicated to it.
After 9th grade gym I didn't run much, and I was dancing intensely for hours every week, so I sure as heck didn't miss it. When I pulled my hamstring (dancing) after college I was in physical therapy, which involved a treadmill once in a while, and here at grad school when I was really angry I ran around town, sometimes throwing a sprint in for good measure, but that's about it. I love walking, and hiking, and have done a lot, but running...well, that was pretty much out of the picture.
Until this last couple of weeks. For some reason, I started jogging once a week, then every few days, then every other day. Last week I ran four times. What the heck is going on? I'm not dancing much now, but I do make sure to stretch properly before and after so as not to damage those muscles; I have plans for dancing later this summer. But why running now? What's changed?
I know I've had an aggravating year; in fact, I just got back some poor semester evaluations, in my opinion, and I know part of this is running out the frustration. I also know my sister can now run over two miles comfortably, which I haven't been able to do in years, and I'm jealous. The weird part is that, while I'm quick, the only reason I was really good at running was competition. I wanted to beat other people, and in independent racing, it was easy to measure myself against others. But I'm not competing against anyone now. I know my cardio system has been in a slump and needs to improve. I know I've been feeling sluggish and wanted to make sure I got exercise. I also know I have exercise and allergy asthma, and running isn't really the best for that (especially outside; I hate running indoors). But I also know that I'm terribly bored.
I can't explain why I am suddenly obsessed with running. Well, not obsessed, but returning to the fold. It's confusing, but at the same time weirdly satisfying. So if you see me, browned and lean, in short shorts, just think of a little girl running like a cheetah across the blacktop, beating all the boys. She's probably wearing a dress, or barefoot, and if you blow the whistle, she will just keep running.

The Fifth Position

So, has anyone else ever wanted a fifth position for sleeping? I mean, there's left side, right side, back, and stomach, and pretty much everything else is some variation. Even sleeping with your butt in the air is a variation of being on your stomach.
So, these last few late nights when I've been tossing through the four positions (no butt in the air...my knee bursitis is a little much for that), I've been really wanting some other option. I almost actually slept with my head at the foot of the bed instead just for some alternative. Weird.

Meanwhile, church is an hour earlier now, and I remembered but lots of other people didn't. It was a nice service for the first summer one; special music by a lady who sang and played an old Quaker hymn, and we seemed to sing extra, too, with an extra hymn, which I am all about. I do loves me my singin'!

Mystery Solved

So the mystery of the creepy phone messages about an important customer issue is marginally solved.
Today, it was a different message, though I'm pretty sure the number to call was the same; but the message was preceded by "Michael Dunham," did not involve a teenaged voice saying, "Again, I repe-eat," and actually included a case reference number along with the phone number. Thus, the calls are for someone who evidently used to have my phone number. I've gotten calls for this Michael Dunham before from businesses, and once for a particularly human sounding message I called them back to tell them they're barking up the wrong tree. It's only a matter of time before I call back this time and beg them to quit hounding my phone.

Whoah....what?

Read this, from CNN:
"Barnes' mother, Mary, told The Associated Press her son has battled mental illness.

'He's been suffering with depression for years,' she said, her voice shaking after being told by a reporter what happened. 'Lord have mercy.'"

Told by a reporter? What? In what crazy world should media reporters be allowed to tell parents their son ran over people at McDonald's? And then have their immediate reaction and words be spread out in the headlines?

I Dream of...the Candyman?

I'm in a stretch of crazy dreams again. Last night was kind of scary.
Basically, I (along with a group of friends) was being chased by a cross between the Mothman from the Mothman Prophecies (or the Creeper from Jeepers Creepers; can't decide) and the Candyman. Basically it was the Candyman with wings. I don't remember very much of the dream except for a very clear picture of me looking up to some pedestal or tower and Tony Todd's face blazing in the night down at us. We thought we could make it if we ran. We were wrong.
I do remember that at that point after the face, I faded out and then faded back in, I think for the running scene. Sometimes my dreams are alarmingly cinematic.
Anyway: Guy friend at the back of the group, whoever you were, I'm sorry.
I haven't seen any of these movies in a while, and I'm not sure where this came from. I did watch the final three episodes of Charmed on tape before I went to bed, but nothing that dramatically scary went on, at least not involving creatures.
I will miss Charmed. I can't believe it is over, but I'm glad they gave me a solid happy ending, even if the last episode was unbelievably confusing. Whenever time travel gets involved...well, I'm going to have to watch it again. It was great, and I'm thinking I might accumulate the dvds of the series. There aren't too many series that successfully pair magic and girl power, and I need more of that in my life.
Also of note was this week's two-hour episode of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition which made me cry not just for the last twenty minutes, but through nearly the whole darn two hours. I've decided to blame hormones.

Doo Doo Doo, Do-Doo Do-Doo

So, I was unlucky in locating a business to rent me a game system. So, I bought one.
I know what you're thinking, but hear me out: It was 15 dollars. I got a used Nintendo-64. Now, I know this is not the best Nintendo game system, and I know it may not even be the best old school system, which is what I wanted. But it was cheap and the guy at 2-Play sold me his own personal copy of Zelda because it didn't need the expansion pack like the two the store had, and I bought Mario, too. I think that's all pretty great, and is equally capable of turning me into a total zombie.
When I was a kid, we didn't have Nintendo. We had a couple of PCs, an Atari and a self-built machine, and on those we played our fair share of Blue Max (flight simulator), Pac-Man and Ms. Pac-Man, all the Carmen Sandiegos we could get our hands on, and then when the internet hit, we played MUDs (Multi-User Dimensions) and such. That's all great, but when I went to my friend Season's, I always wanted to play Zelda on her Nintendo (I mastered Duck Hunt, but wasn't so great at Mario). When I went to my friend Katie's, we played Wheel of Fortune ALL the time. So now that I am a Nintendo owner, I feel like my childhood is complete. I can now participate with the rest of society on the same level.
Okay, that's not true. I felt a little superior because our family had real computers and played games that no one else had, or games that made us smart. But a little part of me always wanted Nintendo like the other kids.
And now, let me just say this: Super Mario Bros in 3-D makes me just a little bit dizzy. I spent two hours losing at level one, but just trying to get oriented in that space with all the view angles and such under control. I don't even fully comprehend the buttons yet, and being able to move in more than four directions. I've tried to play it simple a lot, but that isn't always working since you need to see stuff to get stuff. It's the opposite of MUDs where you are wholly reliant on descriptions to "see." With this jazz, you have to actually look.
So, if my eyes look a little bloodshot next time you see me, you'll know what I've been up to.