Grace should be my middle name.

Location: United States

Thursday, September 30, 2004

I'm Legit!

Since all this hurricane nonsense, I have been inspired to paint. So yesterday I got out all my art stuff, organized it, inventoried it and built 4 large canvases. Today I went to the art supply store to get a couple things I needed. I saw one of my students there. It's always weird to see them out and around. I'm sure it's even wierder for them to see US out and around wearing tank tops, overalls and Reefs.

I thought about the encounter on the ride home. That girl just saw her art teacher, at the art store buying art supplies. How cool is that?!

Wednesday, September 29, 2004

Just a Few Things

You know you missed out on some sort of girl education when it takes you 45 minutes at Eckerds to decide on buying 4 pieces of make up.

Also, why is make-up so freaking expensive? Dude, I was doing the drug store thing too!

Well, El, at least I don't own only free make up now.

I really like clear lip gloss. Good call, hip sister.

I've been getting caught up on my Real World intake today, as I build canvases to prepare to paint. And wow, this season is actually really hysterical. I seriously laughed out loud a few times.

My city is in pretty bad shape. Grocery stores are opening up, but no milk. I won't be convinced life is back to normal until they get milk back.


I'll give anyone a big fat kiss if they can guess what the "PG" marked on about 30 boxes of cassette tapes in my grandmother's garage stands for.

Not So Swoopy

My sixteen-year-old sister is very fabulous and cool. She's loves all things Mary Kate and Ashley, but with a punkish sort of flare. Incidently, she loves Garden State and the soundtrack. I sort of scoff at that because SHE'S SIXTEEN...and there's no way a 16 year old could possibly grasp all that that movie is. But hey, I guess at least she has good taste.

But anyway, back to her. She's hip. Very hip. I appreciate hip things, but I've never been the best one to pull them off. I alwasy end up looking like a clown or a freak or something. But she is very hip. Maybe if I had gone to an art school for high school I would have caught on. Who knows though.

So within recent months or so, maybe even the last year, I've sort of decided to embrace the fact that I have a hip 16-year-old-sister and use it! So she does my eye make up and gives me fashion advice. I even illicit that fashion advice. My mother who often rolls her eyes at my taste, completely embraces the taste of this sister. So I figure that I look good and I don't hear crap about it. We all win.

Now, I'vd had relatively short hair my entire life. There are 2 or 3 moments where it's been quite long, but it's never lasted long and I've always had to endure the nagging about cutting it. I did have really short and sort of spikey hair for about a year and I loved it. But in recent months, I've been growing it out and it's getting pretty long.

So my hip sister - not that the others of you AREN'T hip, but I'm going to make the assumption that ya'll get me here - has had long hair for a while. She primps and uses product and straighteners and goop. She also has a couple swoopy bangs that I think look pretty fly. So I've been growing my hair out and asking her opinions on my bangs. She said she would cut them. Said she cut her own. Said she cuts her friends' bangs and even her friends' hair. When does she do this? At lunch, of course.

Her resume seemed fairly decent for a 16 year old violinist and I can be a pretty risky girl with my hair (except for the color, I'll leave that to Al) so I let her at them last night.

It was sort of traumatic and I know I was such a pain. I kept wanting to look while she was doing them and she just kept cutting and styling and blow drying and gooping and cutting, ect. I said, "Please don't make me look ike Ashley Simpson!" She thought that was funny. I mean, it's only a couple bangs and it seemed to take too long. So that was totally making me uneasy. I was sort of scared last night when she had finished doing them. But this morning, I'm sort of ok with them.

The thing is, they're not swoopy like hers. I think they're too short. She said that she had to "work" with hers at first and that hers were short at first and that it's good to be short because then you can grow them out and not have to get them cut. When she told me that I was like, "WTF?!"

(aside: this same sister heard me say, "WTF" and she couldn't believe it. Now, I said the actual letters W-T-F, not what they stand for. She said her friends have been saying that for a year...and I told her I made it up. I mean, I guess other people can have the copyright on that...but I sort of felt pretty cool knowing that I came up with that and hadn't even heard it before)

Back to the bangs: They're not as long as I had hoped, but they're sort of fun. And I was due for a change. In 2 weeks they'll have grown out a bit and I'll love them.

Oh, and by the way, I totally DON'T look like Ashely Simpson, thank goodness. I honestly might have shaved my head already!

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Credited to El

I'm not sure how many times I'm going to have to tell ya'll to go see Garden State. Here's a quote from Zach Braff, found by Eleanor that should wet your appetite...

For many years when I was feeling all these feelings, I felt incredibly alone; I couldn't find many people who were "in it"... going through the mental puberty that your twenties can be. - (Or any time of your life that involves feeling long overdue for the next chapter of your life to begin.)

Monday, September 27, 2004

Remember When

I may have mentioned this once before, but since we've been doing the hurricane so much lately, we have been much more acquainted with our neighbors.

A friend of mine from high school, who was probably more of an acquaintance and I have gotten reacquainted and it's been pretty fun. I played monopoly with him and his sister, chilled with his parents and he's been playing games with us and it's fun.

He's always been a friendly, nice, well-meaning guy, but I have this one horrible memory of him, which I revealed to him tonight over sushi.

It was the summer of 1999, I had just completed my freshman year of college, experiencing fun, freedom, and good friends. It was tough coming back home and readjusting myself back to home-life. Anyway, a couple friends had told me this guy was having a party, so I showed up and I remember thinking, "Awesome, now I can have fun and have friends when I'm at home, instead of watching Disney movies with my sisters."

Well, I grabbed a beer. A BEER. Just like everyone else. Just like many 19 year olds have done and will continue to do. A beer...not a shot...not a ket...not a bong...a beer. Suddenly, the host of the party, my neighbor, halts the party and makes an announcement: "Excuse me! Grace Aplenty is drinking a BEER!"

I was mortified beyond belief and that was pretty much the end of hanging out with kids from high school days. It annoyed me because so many people had me pegged the wrong way. I mean, sure I'm a nice girl and I'm polite and sweet and all. But I'm also sort of fun too. I mean, I did win the superlative, along with Al and El's help for "Best Parties". Doesn't that count for something?!

So I reminded the neighbor of this story tonight and we had a nice laugh. He hit it on the head though and said, "Well, I think a lot of people didn't really know you in high school, Grace. And you were a really nice we all filled in what we didn't know, with what we thought we knew. And plus, we were all in high school and really, really stupid."

Anyways, it was fun to remind him of a truly ridiculous moment and make him squirm.

Hot Cakes

Anyone who would like one of the two mix CDs I have made over these hurricanes, please email me your address. I already have them made for Earnest, Al, El, Beatrix, and my 2 sisters in the military. ALL of you, mentioned, must email me the address so as to receive 2 fabulous mixes.

One is the newest installment of the lesbian rock variety called "Lesbian Rock Mix Ultra" and the second is a compilation of Jimmy Buffett favorites called "The Weather is Here, Wish You Were Beautiful"/"Trying to Reason With Hurricane Season" - inspiried by recent natural disasters and weather in the area.

Back to the 6 hour version of Pride and Prejudice...

Required Reading

I haven't mentioned this site yet on my blog, but I should have because it's absolutely vital. Like right up there with Amelie and The Garden State and All the Kings Men and things like that.

In fact, reading this site on at least a weekly basis, may, in fact become required reading to participate in

Anyway, here it is

Today's post is fabulous and has to do with a recent blog of mine. Enjoy.

The Results Are In

Answers by 10-year-old-sister during last night’s game of Balderdash:
1) The Great Gabbo is a movie about a band of man-eating monkeys who get arrested for eating women instead of men.
2) Scurryfunger: A finger that has fungus on it and it wriggles around.
3) Zamouse: A cross between a zebra and a mouse.
4) Choil: Pieces of melted colored chalk, sculpted into rope.

Answers by neighborhood friend from high school in last night’s game of Balderdash:
1) Dick Wilson: The doctor who in 1993, invented the most current hair plug technique.
2) I.F.S.: Inner Foosball Society

Answers by 16-year-old-sister who struggled a lot in last night’s game of Balderdash:
1) Lirida Paz: A hairdresser in Talbot, Illinois who was most famous for shampoo, which could also be used for diminishing acne.
2) It Fell From the Sky (movie): An incredible love story between a middle-aged lonely first grade teacher and a martian disguised as a woman.

Answers by Grace, the champion of last night’s game of Balderdash:
1) Dick Wilson: The founder and creator of Shoney’s restraints.
2) P.R.R.I.: Pirana Rescue Resource Institute
3) (Law) In Springfield, Illinois, it is illegal to toss…salad inside a tikki hut while serving liverwurst. (yes, I actually got VOTES for that one)

Sunday, September 26, 2004

Things I'm Tired of Hearing

1) Hey, Sarah, can we play a game?

2) Hey, Sarah, what are you going to do when you finish eating, bathing, reading, etc?

3) Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.

4) Let's watch, "Sister Act", "The Wedding Video", or "My Big Fat Greek Wedding"

5) It could have been a lot worse.

And the final thing I absolutely might go into hives if I here one more time because it almost made me go into hives when I heard it the first time...

7) Hunker Down

Friday, September 24, 2004

I'd Love to Stop Writing About it, BUT...

Ok, so when I look back on all those blogs I wrote right before Frances, I sort of cringe. I also sort of go, "Good gracious, get a new topic!" I'm tired of writing about hurricanes, talking about them, listening to them on the radio. Dude, I've had it up to here with hurricanes, ok? Still, that's not going to stop me venting here.

So last night, my good friend Eleanor asked what I was doing this weekend. I'm sticking to the same story I told her yesterday, "Most likely sitting in my 'saferoom' that is un-airconditioned and full of parents, 2 sisters, myself and the S.F.'s" The S.F.'s being the grandmothers and extra elderly relatives who live with us. That comes to a grand total of 8 people. If anyone out there in interent-land is wondering, YES, that's too many bodies in an unairconditioned room. The whole concept of the "saferoom" sort of struck me as funny at first and I would use it constantly because they bombard us with it on the radio. It's a common part of southern Florida's vernacular now. But man, I'm really not looking forward to the "saferoom."

It's funny how they're totally saying that this 'cane is coming right for us. Yes, people have freaked out, yes it did take me 1.5 hours to get gas last night and yes, hurricane shutters and plywood are everywhere. But in general, I think people are either a) just really really annoyed or b) they really really don't think it's coming here.

This morning I did what I had to do, and bought my stuff for hurricane preparations. Those two things included rabbit food and Balderdash. I'll let the fam take care of the food, water, gas, generator and all that jazz. I've got the pets and games covered. I'm totally more of a pets and games person. I like to hope that that shows a lot about me.

Anyways, tomorrow morning I'll pack up the car. And this time, I totally know what to bring. Towels, because they get dirty and smelly and there are 8 people living in the house. Tank tops and shorts because when the power cuts out, it gets HOT. Rollerblades, because after the last hurricane, I got bored and couldn't go drive anywhere and got tired of walking the dog so much because I had cabin fever. Yeah, I'm totally ready.

Thursday, September 23, 2004


Maybe it's because I've already missed 8 days of school this year.

Maybe it's because this is the 4th hurricane to come at Florida.

Maybe it's because I'm tired from school, meetings with principals and parent/teacher conferences.

Maybe it's because yesterday they just announced ALL. THOSE. DAYS. WE. HAVE. TO. MAKE. UP. And it seems like we're not having another holiday for the REST OF THE YEAR.

But I'm seriously so annoyed that I could kick Jeanne's ass right now.

A Teacher's Day Never Ends

Full day of school clocked in with painting AND a meeting with the principal. Now, there's parent/teacher conferences for 3 hours. Why did I even come home?

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

Nightmares, The Wild West, and The Basement of the Alamo

So yesterday I spent 2 hours after school and one hour during school hanging up portraits of the US presidents in order. I had at least 2 of all of them. But I had five George Washingtons and five Grover Clevelands. Anyway, it was a lot. I promise. But my room looked sweet and I was happy when I left.

So last night, I had a dream. Not sure if I would categorize it as a nightmare because it wasn't truly scary, but it definitely woke me up and made me think twice. In the dream, I walked into school this morning and found all of my walls bare and empty. All the presidents were gone. All of them. And no trace was left. They weren't on the floor, they weren't on a pile. I remember thinking that maybe the fire-inspectors had taken them down because I had covered 80% my walls with paper. Yeah, I officially dream about work now. That's a first for me.

Thankfully, everyone was basically in their place this morning when I got there and the kids were pumped. They also liked the story of my nightmare. Sixth graders are cool like that.

Theyr'e cool about a lot of stuff (minus using rulers). They know about tons of stuff I totally wouldn't expect them to know about. I mean, as a sixth grader, I had deep love and affection for Pee Wee's Big Adventure. And hey, I STILL have deep love and affection for that movie. But I was in sixth grade in 1992. Well, the good news I have for you today that that movie has stood the test of time and many sixth graders in 2004 not only have SEEN it, but can quote my favorite quote. My faith in parents these days jumped exponentially today when I discovered this.

Why was I talking about Pee Wee's Big Adventure in art class? Yeah, I'm thinking about that right now and wondering myself. I mean, that could totally be grounds for me getting fired or something, probably. Uh oh.

Well, a girl in my class had drawn a picture that seemed to have a lot referencing Texas in it. I had notice this Texas-thing in her work before. And since I did my 4 years time out in Texas in undergrad, I asked her if she used to live there. She said yes, that she used to live in Houston.

Then someone piped in and asked if I used to live in the "wild west". I tried to give him the news flash that the "wild west" only exists today in that silly country song and in history books. But these Florida kids weren't having any of that. Then, someone asked if I'd ever been to the Alamo and I so I explained that I had because I loved this movie.

Most of you know the story here. But for those of you who don't, PWBA is one of my family's favorite films. We especially loved it when he went to the Alamo, searching for his bike in the basement and the tour guide laughs at him and says, "There's no basement in the Alamo." Awesome. So upon embarking on my undergraduate experience in Texas, I was determined to go visit the Alamo, thought it was miles away from where I was. That's when good old Eleanor and her San Antonio roots came in.

Today in class, my kids mentioned the basement-of-the-Alamo-thing before I did. Man, I love that class. I should have given them all A's just for knowing that. Of course, they think I'm super awesome because I had been there and I could tell them that though it is true that there is no basement to the Alamo, that there IS, in fact, a basement to the Alamo's gift shop.

These are going to be some well-rounded kids when I get through with them.

Tuesday, September 21, 2004


Welcome to Mr. Harry Markowitz. He's joining the little community and is much appreciated. You'd better comment, Markowitz, or I'll give you $10,000 worth of dental work!


My sister has a blog. She rules and it rules too. Jump on the bandwagon, guys!


Today I:

drank 0 cups of my beloved Cafe dumond coffee
got ready in 35 minutes
ended up with 2 sopping wet legs after morning "duty" this rainy morning
received 13 emails in my school email account
spent 1.5 hours after school hanging 136 portraits of US presidents in my itty-bitty room

Tonight I need to:

return 3 items to the Gap
eat scrambled eggs - because rainy days are totally scrambled eggs days
get a lot of crap together for school by Thursday
make some plans to go have 2 for 1 watermelon margaritas tomorrow

Adios amigos!

PS. It has been brought to my attention that Eleanor should start a blog. I second the motion

Monday, September 20, 2004

Rain Rain Go Away

Today I was one of those wonderful rainy days that are only wonderful to the people who can crawl back into bed, while the rest of us had to make our way to work through dark, wet and nasty streets.

I had to wake up extra early because due to circumstances yesterday evening, I just could not sit still to get work completed. So I thought, I'll get up early, do a powerpoint, make a worksheet, ect, to Kinkos to make the copies, get to school, hook the lap top and all up and be set to go. And all of that went ok until the part where I left the house and went to Kinkos. Dude, isn't the whole thing about Kinkos is that they're open 24 hours a day? So riddle me this...WHY, oh WHY, was it closed at 7am this morning? Kinkos can be such a sham.

So I decided to print off the copies I would have made on my computer at school, which was totally fine. But then, my lap top wouldn't hook up to the ancient TV in my classroom. Damn. My really cool, beautiful, inspiring powerpoint on Pop Art and Roy Lichtenstein complete with actual photos of one of his sculptures from DC with me standing in front of it, down the tubes. Presto chango and I do the lesson on the my little lap top and things go fine. The kids love it. Good class discussion and happy kids. Makes for one happy teacher.

I dodged two bullets and came out with a good day. Made me feel like a real teacher. Good day - even if curling up in bed with a nice book would have been so much more desireable at 5:15am.

Sunday, September 19, 2004


Good words for your Sunday pleasure by Father Walter J. Ciszek, S.J.

We must constantly return to the catechism truth we learned as children: that God made us to love, reverence, and serve him in this life and so to be happy with him in the next.

We are not saved by doing our own will, but the will of the Father; we do that not by interpreting it or reducing it to mean what we would like it to mean, but by accepting it in its fullness, as made manifest to us by the situations and circumstances and persons his providence sends. It is so simple and yet so difficult.

Each day, and every minute of every day, is given to us by God with that in mind.

We for our part can accept and offer back to God every prayer, work, and suffering of the day, no matter how insignificant or unspectacular they may seem to us. yet it is precisely because our daily circumstances often seem so insignificant and unspectacular that we fail so often in this regard.

It is the seeming smallness of our daily lives and the constancy of things that cause our attention and our good intentions to wander away from the realization that these things, too, are signs of God's will.

Between God and the individual soul; however, there are no insignificant moments; this is the mystery of divine providence

Saturday, September 18, 2004


Funny how my last entry discusses routine and how glad I was to get back to it, when exactly one day later, I was interrupting it again of my own volition. But that's not what I want to talk about this evening while I watch football, eat pizza and drink beer. In between tomahawk chops and humming Rocky Top Tennessee, I have decided to write about my friend Eleanor. Don't worry, ye friends of Grace, you'll all get your chance and you're all being worked on. This stuff takes time though, k?

Eleanor likes pink. A lot. In fact, if you go in her closet, you'll find pink everything. Pink, pink, pink. We even once had a birthday party for her themed "Pink".

Within the first 48 hours of knowing Eleanor, I was impressed by two things, that she was from San Antonio and she received a dozen red roses for her birthday from a guy in our freshman class. Two things that ran through my mind: "Dude, I'm totally going home with her for Thanksgiving. And, man, this girl works fast!"

Eleanor is a great friend to have if you're ever in the mood for a shot of 151 at 4pm on a Tuesday afternoon. At least she used to be. That shot may or may not have scarred her for life for ever doing a shot of 151.

She may not be a great Taboo player, but it's great playing against her because she says things like, "Don't blank the blank" which in Eleanor-ese OBVIOUSLY means "Don't shoot the gun?"

Eleanor has this special talent of being the only person I know who could get her all her studying and homework finished well, party like a rock star and still seem to get a full 8 hours of sleep a night.

Did I mention that the color pink and Eleanor's name are practically synonymous in my mind?

She has tipped me onto some great combinations like pink and green. But she also has, what I consider to be a strange opinion on Big Red and Cool Ranch Doritos. I just can't get behind that one, ok?

Eleanor is one of the most talented people at phrasing a command as a sweet little question. As in, "Hey, Grace, do you think you might want to turn out the light?"

I think that in at least 1/4 of the pictures I have of Eleanor, she has a big toothy beautiful Texas grin. In the other 3/4, she has that grin, along with a piece of gum visible between her teeth. Sexy.

She wore a stocking cap for what I'm pretty sure was about six weeks straight while we were in Europe. Again. Sexy.

Many girls have opinions on the last name of the man they marry. Eleanor is the only one who has a last name picked out, and not a person who matches it. Yet. If there are any Mr. Valentines out there, please contact me and we'll see what we can get set up with you and the future Mrs. Valentine.

Eleanor and I see eye-to-eye on guilty pleasures like Dove Chocolate, The Bachelor and Cheese-Its.

One time Eleanor and I drove 12 hours to see an Indigo Girls' concert over our spring break. We got to Atlanta, saw the Coca-Cola Museum, went to the CNN building, saw the concert and drove home. Call us devoted fans, but please, don't call us lesbians.

She makes a mean brocolli salad. Trust me.

She was once a girl-who-just-got-out-of-the-shower for Halloween, which is hillarious, in and of itself.

Eleanor is always up for throwing parties, telling interesting stories, making drunk dials, saying things like, "Grace, be for REAL", and eating Publix cookies.

She's fabulous at plucking eyebrows and, if she lived nearer to me, mine would be in her full command.

Once Ellie called her parents at 3 in the morning, from New Orleans, on New Year's Eve, just to tell them that Hang on Sloopy had just been played. But the problem was that her phone cut off in mid-call and then completely died, so her parents were just slightly worried about their eldest child, who had probably had more than her share of hurricanes that New Year's Eve.

Ellie's really honest and loyal and a really good listener. She's also the best drunk I know, and perhaps one of the most commical people I know, even though she won't here any word of that.

She's also really good at not making you feel bad for breaking pacts you have together. In fact, she'll go out and break it too, since, of course, you broke it first. But hey, definitely makes a girl feel better.

Eleanor sends me emails with pictures of places called Foamhenge and Zach Braff. She also is great about sending emails with facts about religious holidays, national holidays and even those third tier holidays (though I have yet to receive one from her on Arbor Day...I'll just have to wait for it this year). They tell you things like how many easter eggs are painted, how much candy is bought and how many Mexican-Americans live in the USA.

You should definitely have a friend like Eleanor.

PS. I almost forgot one of the truly fabulous things about Eleanor is that she has some control problems when skiing and laughing a lot. I'll leave it at that, El.

Tuesday, September 14, 2004


Today I was back to the land of the living and working people. And wow, did it feel good.

Routines are important to me. Part of a process, if you will. I am a creature of habbit and I love it that way. I get so much more accomplished. I feel on track. I make lists. I cross things off. I never cross all of them off. In a perfect world, I would. The routines keep me going.

They also keep me from being lazy and flabby...that's flabby of the mind, body, soul, ect. And there's just nothing worse than that.

So this morning, I did my morning thing, I belted out Ashley Simpson and drank my coffee. I arrived at school and did my thing. We did a one-day drawing where my kids had a choice between 3 themes. "What Hurricane Frances felt like to me", "My week off after Frances" and "Thankfulness". It was a lot of fun and pretty low intensity. They loved my drawing of a Monopoly bored and a discouraged, disgruntled, and defeated football player with a #16 on his jersey. Go figure.

Now, I have a full list of things to cross of my list this evening, except that that silly thing called IM is keeping me away. Well, at 1800, I'm getting off this thing and ON the ball.

PS. Glad to see the comments.

Monday, September 13, 2004

It Has Been Brought to My Attention...

that there are many readers of this site who lurk and don't comment. YOU need to change this immediately. You also need to go look under the "Want Ads" post because Annie just left a really good one as well. A+ for creativity, all of you!

The Highlights of Balderdash

The word "snoach" actually DOES mean a nasal twang.

When given the person, Art Fry, I wrote that he was the creator of the post-it-note, completely unaware that Art Fry actually IS the creator of the post-it-note.

Upon getting the date May 16, 1990, I wrote that it was the date that Vanilla Ice's one hit wonder, "Ice Ice Baby" reached number one Casey Casum's count down and got a lot of votes for that from the children, who had no idea who Vanilla Ice actually was.

For the movie title, "Behind the Eight Ball", I wrote that it was the "true story of Missy Jameson, who disguised as a man, one the national billiards title in 1901.

I should have played a lot more of that game in my first 24 years of life, especially in combination with alcohol.

One of Those Nights - One of Those Days

Yesterday, I spent the majority of the day jacking around because I said to myself, "Tomorrow's a teacher work day, kids don't come until Tuesday, so who really cares?" So I went to mass, read, watched TV and talked on the phone. It was Sunday, a day of rest...whoo hoo.

I went over for dinner to my adoptive family here which was fabulous. They have 3 daughters and a son, ages 14 to 4 and are just wonderful. They fed me steak and we played Balderdash. They're such a nice family. I couldn't leave until I saw the six year old's big toe, of which the toenail had been scraped off AND the actual toe nail which she was keeping in her night stand drawer, right next to the shell souvenier she got last week in Key West. She told me she "LOVES toenails". Obviously, it was a spectacular night.

Anyway, so I got up, did my morning routine, ironed some clothes, made some coffee, packed my lunch, went to mass and then headed to school where there were like 2 cars in the parking lot. I wasn't early or anything so I put some context clues together and realized that apparently we did not have school today, even though the secretary called me last Thursday to say that we would HAVE school on Monday. Dude, I need to start paying attention to the news or something.

So, I called my parents, because I had no one else to call and share that bitter/sweet class-is-cancelled-and-I-was-not-prepared-for-this-feeling. They suggested I go up and help my uncle at my grandmother's house. Only, after I drove 35 minutes up there, he told me he didn't need any help. Looks like I have another day of rest.

Sunday, September 12, 2004


One thing about blogging, I've realized, is that some days are definitely higher quality than others. I think that's what frustrates me most and that's why I've started numerous blogs in the past and left them abandoned. Could that be perfectionism lurking in the depths of my soul. I hope so, because I could definitely use some more of that!

Today I slept in a nice air conditioned and clean apartment, watched some TV, and went to mass. I also got eating lunch accomplished. I would have been more motivated to get things done today, if I hadn't found out that tomorrow is just a teacher work day. Kids come on Tuesday. Honestly, it's a good move though. If they were making teachers and students go to school tomorrow, I'm thinking it would be a rough, rough day for everyone involved.

Yesterday, I helped out the family play "Clean Sweep" at my grandmother's house. Sadly, we have to gut the place because of major roof and wall damage from the storm. There were a few cousins, some aunts and uncles and a couple friends there to do the job of packing her shit up and moving it into storage. I got to handle the bathroom, which was very, very interesting. My grandma's 83 years old, has 7 kids and 21 grandchilden, which can only mean one thing - she has accumulated an ASS load of stuff. It would blow your mind. My mother was helping going through boxes upon boxes of fabric while other aunts were complaining that Grandma wasn't getting rid of enough stuff. I couldn't help but think that in a few decades, my sisters and I could be doing exactly the same thing to my parents house. There were at least 30 garbage bags marked "little girls' clothes". When I opened some of them, I realized that they were mainly clothes from MY family. My mother pretended like she was getting rid of our stuff, but put it at Grandma's house...which means that someone is going to go through it TWICE. I need to stop writing abouto it, or I may, in fact, get hives.

I'm in the process of doing a really really creative blog. It might be too creative though. But I think it's a really good idea. Oh well.

Saturday, September 11, 2004

Damn, Gina!

If any of you have NOT looked down and seen Albert's latest comment under "Want Ads" you need to immediately! THAT is why I love Al.

My Week in Numbers

3 games of Monopoly in 2 days = maxed out of my amount of monopoly for the next 5 years.

6 days of powerlessness

1 generator

1 hot and smelly dog

0 hours of VH1

6 days of french braids

1 drive of 1 hour to find large gas can and gas

1 bag of my very own blow pops eaten by my sneaky sisters

4 monster fans that most certainly helped

2 reunitings with neighborhood high school friends, one of which he told me he was always afraid to go to my house because when he moved in in 5th grade we went to "private school"

1 memory of going to a party at afore mentioned high school friend's house one or two summers after we graduated where he stopped the party to announce that "Grace Aplenty" was drinking ALCOHOL - Dude, what do you think I did in college anyway?

1 family disagreement on choice of gererator powered DVD. Sabrina vs. Little Women. Sabrina won - horray!

Total of 8 hurricane days to make up. Not sure what would be worse school on Saturdays, or goodbye to Spring break. Either way, I may be in school until July.

5 glasses of wine for $4.99 on Friday night.

2 or 3 pitchers of beer shared watching a very, very, very sad game, where .01% of the people felt it was sad like me. But the nice company and 1 nice guy, definitely mde up for it.

1 borderline bold statement made by the color of my shirt upon arriving in town yesterday.

The Facts

Yes, hurricane Frances was here and thank goodness that things are ok. My parents spent a week without power, that means me too. So that meant long, hot days of cards, board games and cold showers.

My father made the good decision of investing in a generator so we were able to have lights and fans. But it was hot. Hotter than hot.

I re-acquired my french braiding techniques that had been lost since Europe in 1999. That, in and of itself should tell you something about my cleanliness over the week.

My father ran into some nuns we know while he was at Home Depot, who had power and a commercial ice machine. So we went over and brought back a bunch of battery powered lanterns, a mother load of ice and beer. I thought that was awesome.

I escaped to a more college-town-type atmosphere to hang out with non-family members and people my own age. I also came to watch the big game and to have a little "set up". Which was a good thing, a very good thing. Thumbs up for Elle Woods on a good call. Thanks, Elle.

Next up, head back and help organize and inventory Grandma's house with cousins, aunts and uncles. Bring it.

Thursday, September 09, 2004

All Systems Go

I'm here. I'm alive. There is power at my apartment, though not at my parents house. Thus, I am using some dial up connection and doing an ass load of laundry for the fam...which is totally my pleasure, since I can do laundry and since it'll keep them smelling good. I will be blogging more later. Don't you just hate it when you compose an award winning blog or email and then all of a sudden, it's gone?

Friday, September 03, 2004

Want Ads

I'm not writing this because I'm bitter or angry or listening to lesbian rock. I saw some them on one of my favorite blog's archives and thought I'd play along...

Think you’ve dated some dumb ones in the past? Try writing a want ad with all the characteristics of your exes. You’ll be surprised at what you end up with!

J: Are you a big dumb ox? I’ll be your perfect punching bag! Let all your anger out on me and I’ll even carry your past baggage. Do you like to sleep around too? Just fine! If you are an emotionally unavailable, irresponsible user with no ambition and self destructive habits, I’m the guy for you! Educated and considerate men need not apply!

K: Are you deaf, dumb and blind? I’ll be your Helen Keller! My full time job is being a nanny to all of your childish needs. Weakness and immaturity are my biggest turn ons! Don’t know where you’re going in life, and don’t care? That’s ok, I can save you! Seeking emotionally unstable and woman-hating f-wit idiot to ignore me until it’s convenient for him. Goal-oriented and strong willed men need not apply.

A: Are you neurotic, co-dependent, and in need of medication? Let me be your doctor! Let me absorb all your needs and wants and try like hell to make them come true only to be spit on when its not done right! Do you have a problem with telling the truth? C’mon baby! Lemme be your lie detector! Come lie to me and tell nasty lies to other people about me. I am here waiting with open arms to be the poor sap you milk for everything he has! Honest, self-sufficient, and loving men need not apply.

SB: Are you incapable of buying a new pair of pants on your own? Toying with the idea of going off your meds? Need someone to pay your parking ticket for you? Then you should be dating SB! I’m here for you, baby… even if that just means here for you to break up with on my 18th birthday, or tell me you’re no longer attracted to me 2 years into our 4 year relationship—and then change your mind a few months later! Especially looking for someone to cheat on me for 6 months in high school and then further my humiliation by actually marrying the girl. Wealthy, British or well-read men need not apply!

Grace: Does the world revolve around you and your every whim? Do you need someone to call you every 3 hours? Need someone to hold your hand 24/7? Even when you're in the car? Even when you're in a movie and your hands are all sweaty? And not just that, but always the linky-fingers way? Then you should be dating Grace! Let me be your wet blanket to wrap up your inner insecurities and keep them safe and warm. Bonus points if you have trouble holding onto jobs. Those who have their lives together and who have only minimal to zero amounts of emotional baggage, need not apply.

...Ok, maybe I'm only slightly bitter. But I fully admit to putting up with way too much and will remedy that in the future.

Because We've Only Seen It 1,000 Times

Apparently it's important that I watch Sister Act with the entire family on this hurricane night.

Passing the Time

The last time I played so much Egyptian War...or Egyptian Ratscrew...or Egyptian Rat F...or whatever you call it. This is a PG site though, so keep it clean...

Anyway, the last time I played this much of that game, I think I was on a boat on it's way to Greece.

Hurricane Rambling

So it's getting a little boring around here. Can't you just get here already, Frances, so we can be finished with this?

I think that today, Monopoly is inevitable.

If more people in this house were either under the senior citizen age, and over the legal drinking age...or, who am I kidding, nearer to the legal driving age, a nice scandalous drinking game would be fun.

It might also be fun if we had something other than rum, wine coolers and some BLUE prepackaged hurricane concoction.

Here's some news for you:

My dad and I went to the store last night to purchase reinforcements. I had a list for making a homemade hurricane. But we found this bottle of Bacardi Blue Hurricane stuff and he said we should get that, instead of 4 or 5 different types of rum and whatnot. He said that it would be cheaper and that we were really just buying it for the novelty. Since he was the one buying, and since I'm a relatively understanding daughter, I was alright with that.

We bring the stuff home and my mom says, "Oh, I THOUGHT hurricanes were blue!"

And I said, "NO, hurricanes are NOT blue."

She said, "No, I think that I knew that."

Again, I said, "NO, hurricanes are NOT blue."

She said, "Well, why is THIS blue?"

And I said, "That's a really, really good question."

As if Bacardi knows anything about making hurricanes, is what I have to say.

My mother, who sent my sister and I out yesterday to 4 churches to get some emergency Holy Water, is telling ME that hurricanes are blue. Hurricanes are not even CLOSE to blue. If we were to set up a color wheel and put our fingers on the spot where the actual color of a hurricane is - a reddish/orangish/pink - and then put our other finger on the spot where BLUE is, our two fingers wouldn't be anywhere near each other.

Mom, I've been to the Hurricane capital of the world at least once a year, for the past few years. I have the battle wounds to prove it. I also have pictures of red tonges to prove it.

So, the blue stuff sort of smelled like that familiar smell. And at first, I thought it wasn't that bad. But then it really was. It really, really was that bad. Now we're stuck with a vat of blue stuff. Maybe Pablo would like that. That might make a hurricane a lot more fun.

Thursday, September 02, 2004


Little known facts about my friends and family, using (of course) their code names:

Albert on occasion sleeps with her eyes open. This was one of those important things she felt necessary to share with me when we embarked on our freshmen year of college together as roommates.

MSW was never an art major, yet loves Mark Rothko, so much so that she painted some paintings in his style.

My dad was a cheerleader in college.

Ernest thinks that musicians should play their songs exactly the way they sound on the CD when he is watching them at a concert.

My cat, Rocky, God rest his soul, was once stuck inside our neighbor's garage for over 3 weeks. Before that, he ran away for a month or so when we were living in a townhouse while building a home. Evidently he was pissed. Obviously we found him. A tumor on his cheeck was what finally did him in though.

Eleanor has 5 pictures of 5 different friends, each drinking beer out of a rubber chicken, framed and hanging in her bedroom.

My mother once told my sister that all she is good for is making pink lemonade.

I should stop this before I reveal something I might get in trouble for.

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

The Village

I think I just gave myself about 400 cool points for seeing, a movie more on the side of scary, than not scary, all by myself in a completely empty movie theater. Yeah, me, the one who jumps out of her skin at the sight of her own shadow. Go me. And you know, I even liked it.

Charlie's Big Sister

So you know what I said about Charlie a couple weeks ago? Yeah, I probably shouldn't have said that. Because Charlie has a sister and her name is Frances and though she has given me a five day weekend, I don't much care for her. However, in honor of Frances and the early pay day this week, I'm heading to the neighborhood ABC and purchasing some different varieties of rum. Dude, I've got 2 HURRICANE days...what else am I supposed to do?