So the Sex and the City movie premieres today and I cannot help but wonder if it will live up to the hype. I just saw it this afternoon and I will not reveal any secrets or spoilers.
So it is up to you. Will it live up to the hype? In my opinion, few things ever really do live up to the expectations. However, I cannot argue with the fact that things like this movie premiere definitely give us gals an excuse to grab our friends a little closer, have a Cosmo with them, and laugh a little. Hype or not, that is what this should be all about.
***Also, look at how current we WW are lately! Economic stimulus checks, the Phoenix Mars lander, and the SATC premiere. Check us out!
Friday, May 30, 2008
Sci Fi Suzie
One time, when I was in high school, my boyfriend's mother asked my little brother: "What does your sister want to be when she grows up?"
"Well," he answered, furrowing his brow, "I'm pretty sure a astronaut." (He said "a astronaut" instead of "an astronaut" because he was about 6.)
My boyfriend's mother found this hilarious, and I didn't have the heart to tell her that my kid bro wasn't that far off.
Of the many ridiculous things that I hoped to one day become (gymnast, horse racer, professional dancer), astronaut was probably the most attainable. I took AP Physics in high school and it nearly killed me, and I also did not particularly enjoy Calculus, and I found lab sciences like biology and chemisty B-O-R-I-N-G. So that's when I decided to abandon the whole astronaut deal, because it appeared that the only part about it that would come naturally to me and that I would enjoy would be the whole blasting off into space thing. The calculations on how to get there (and, more pressing, get home), the experiments to be performed once we arrived there, and the writing up of reports to detail what all of that meant - bleh. But to view the earth from miles above her - this, this adventure I could handle.
I feel sj on the fear issue. I have a lot to live for, and the Challenger explosion, happening as it did when I was a wee elementary school lass, has been in the back of my mind during every subsequent blast off. If space travel was free and easy, oh, tomorrow, you'd better believe this girl would not be signing up.
But, when I'm in my nineties, when my children are grown and on their own, when I have no pets, no debts, and I've seen most of what I'd like to see around this here home planet of ours . . . well, that's the day I strap on my space suit and blast my aging body off into a new frontier. The stress of the journey may very well kill me - but what a way to die. Floating in the stars. Gazing down upon the lovely Earth that was my home and contains all that I love. Looking past it into the infinite, where my soul will soon be.
Nice.
"Well," he answered, furrowing his brow, "I'm pretty sure a astronaut." (He said "a astronaut" instead of "an astronaut" because he was about 6.)
My boyfriend's mother found this hilarious, and I didn't have the heart to tell her that my kid bro wasn't that far off.
Of the many ridiculous things that I hoped to one day become (gymnast, horse racer, professional dancer), astronaut was probably the most attainable. I took AP Physics in high school and it nearly killed me, and I also did not particularly enjoy Calculus, and I found lab sciences like biology and chemisty B-O-R-I-N-G. So that's when I decided to abandon the whole astronaut deal, because it appeared that the only part about it that would come naturally to me and that I would enjoy would be the whole blasting off into space thing. The calculations on how to get there (and, more pressing, get home), the experiments to be performed once we arrived there, and the writing up of reports to detail what all of that meant - bleh. But to view the earth from miles above her - this, this adventure I could handle.
I feel sj on the fear issue. I have a lot to live for, and the Challenger explosion, happening as it did when I was a wee elementary school lass, has been in the back of my mind during every subsequent blast off. If space travel was free and easy, oh, tomorrow, you'd better believe this girl would not be signing up.
But, when I'm in my nineties, when my children are grown and on their own, when I have no pets, no debts, and I've seen most of what I'd like to see around this here home planet of ours . . . well, that's the day I strap on my space suit and blast my aging body off into a new frontier. The stress of the journey may very well kill me - but what a way to die. Floating in the stars. Gazing down upon the lovely Earth that was my home and contains all that I love. Looking past it into the infinite, where my soul will soon be.
Nice.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
You Lost Me At Sci-Fi
Sci-fi has never really interested me. You will never find me intently watching Star Trek and you will more than likely never hear me chatting about Saturn's rings. I never dreamt of being an astronaut or traveling through space. I was just never into it.
The whole Phoenix Mars Lander deal is pretty cool in that it does display how far our space program has come in such a short time. But I have this sneaking suspicion that the reason they want to determine if other planets could/can sustain life is so that they can ship some of us there. And? Well, no.
First, in my husband's esteemed words (after looking at some of the pictures from the Phoenix), "It looks like someone went out to a junkyard and took some pictures of the dirt." So, that landscape really sounds enticing. I like my green grass, pretty flowers, and civilization. Second, the atmosphere just does not appeal to me. I would have to wear one of those fancy space suits to go anywhere and then I could not show off my cute shoes or my funny t-shirts. Also, it takes forever to get to any other planet(s), so visiting friends and family would be nearly impossible. I have learned in the last few years that I absolutely cannot live without seeing my family and friends more often than say, oh, NEVER. Living on another planet is just not for me.
I would be happy to hear that the Phoenix does discover some interesting things. Maybe some prehistoric chocolate or some alien species that has advanced the human body to such a point that I could eat whatever I want and not get fluffy. Now, that would be a find I would be interested in hearing about!
So, the Jetsons can keep space travel for now. Maybe someday my grandchildren's grandchildren will be living on Mars, but I will keep Earth for myself, thanks.
The whole Phoenix Mars Lander deal is pretty cool in that it does display how far our space program has come in such a short time. But I have this sneaking suspicion that the reason they want to determine if other planets could/can sustain life is so that they can ship some of us there. And? Well, no.
First, in my husband's esteemed words (after looking at some of the pictures from the Phoenix), "It looks like someone went out to a junkyard and took some pictures of the dirt." So, that landscape really sounds enticing. I like my green grass, pretty flowers, and civilization. Second, the atmosphere just does not appeal to me. I would have to wear one of those fancy space suits to go anywhere and then I could not show off my cute shoes or my funny t-shirts. Also, it takes forever to get to any other planet(s), so visiting friends and family would be nearly impossible. I have learned in the last few years that I absolutely cannot live without seeing my family and friends more often than say, oh, NEVER. Living on another planet is just not for me.
I would be happy to hear that the Phoenix does discover some interesting things. Maybe some prehistoric chocolate or some alien species that has advanced the human body to such a point that I could eat whatever I want and not get fluffy. Now, that would be a find I would be interested in hearing about!
So, the Jetsons can keep space travel for now. Maybe someday my grandchildren's grandchildren will be living on Mars, but I will keep Earth for myself, thanks.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
I Wonder How Sci-Fi the Future Will Be?
I am very picky about my science-fiction loyalties. Sci-fi from the past (Star Wars)? Eh. Ewoks are cute, but that’s pretty much my only opinion about the Forces. Sci-fi predicting the future (Star Trek)? Ew. Shatner, Stewart, and company never really did much for me. Sci-fi where the future has gone apocalyptic and catapulted us into a super-juiced version of the past (“Firefly” & Serenity)? Bring. It. On.
That’s the kind of space travel I want—shuttling around a colonized desert planet, wearing a corset and carrying a cool Japanese parasol.
Knowing that kind of space-travel-as-the-norm world will only happen inside Joss Whedon’s head kind of takes the fun out of thinking about the future. I honestly don’t think I’ve considered whether or not being on a space station or visiting Venus will be a real possibility for me or my nephew or his kids. I’m sure it will happen eventually, b/c if humans can find a way to claim more things and say they reign supreme over/on them, they will.
I remember having a dumb class assignment for a science fair in elementary school about imagining and building a model of what I thought a space station would look like … and what I remember about it was that it was terrible. I used lots of plain-white bendy straws, tape, and Saran Wrap. I didn’t really care one way or the other, but I do know that I grasped the concept that no matter how you decorate your space pad, you’d better have some plants if you want to make it, b/c photosynthesis rules!
And I remember drawing pictures of myself as an astronaut, mostly so I could draw a really perfect circle around my head for my helmet. I also gave myself curly hair in these pictures, so we all know how realistic that vision of the future was going to turn out to be.
I think I’ve decided that I’m cool with whatever form of space travel or space living the future brings, as long as someone makes Joss a consultant on the project. Because I can’t imagine there’s anything more awesome than riding a horse on the moon.
That’s the kind of space travel I want—shuttling around a colonized desert planet, wearing a corset and carrying a cool Japanese parasol.
Knowing that kind of space-travel-as-the-norm world will only happen inside Joss Whedon’s head kind of takes the fun out of thinking about the future. I honestly don’t think I’ve considered whether or not being on a space station or visiting Venus will be a real possibility for me or my nephew or his kids. I’m sure it will happen eventually, b/c if humans can find a way to claim more things and say they reign supreme over/on them, they will.
I remember having a dumb class assignment for a science fair in elementary school about imagining and building a model of what I thought a space station would look like … and what I remember about it was that it was terrible. I used lots of plain-white bendy straws, tape, and Saran Wrap. I didn’t really care one way or the other, but I do know that I grasped the concept that no matter how you decorate your space pad, you’d better have some plants if you want to make it, b/c photosynthesis rules!
And I remember drawing pictures of myself as an astronaut, mostly so I could draw a really perfect circle around my head for my helmet. I also gave myself curly hair in these pictures, so we all know how realistic that vision of the future was going to turn out to be.
I think I’ve decided that I’m cool with whatever form of space travel or space living the future brings, as long as someone makes Joss a consultant on the project. Because I can’t imagine there’s anything more awesome than riding a horse on the moon.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
i wonder if space travel will ever become more common.
i'm sure you've all heard about NASA's phoenix mars lander. according to cnn, the mission of the phoenix is to study whether mars could "have supported primitive life." it is also investigating the possibility of ice on mars and whether there are organic compounds in the soil. this mission has been one of a kind and i marvel at how far space travel has come since the days of buzz aldren and neil armstrong. if our technology and world can advance so mush so quickly, what possibilities are being held for us in the next 40 years?
i know that there have been a few civilians who have been able to experience space travel. wait. let me rephrase that. i know there have been a few incredibly wealthy civilians who have been able to experience space travel. and i think that in the decades to come, more and more people will have this opportunity afforded to them. i would like to think that nearly anyone who wanted to experience the thrill of blast-off and moon walking would be able to do it, although i can't say that i would be counted among them. it scares me, to be quite honest. but so do numerous other things that everyday people do on an everyday basis.
i do believe that space travel will become more common, but only among the very wealthy. besides, if our world can't figure out alternative fuel options (or make them readily available to the 'commoners' like myself), why would i think that average joe american could afford to travel through space? the technology will arrive, but will the economic resources?
i know that there have been a few civilians who have been able to experience space travel. wait. let me rephrase that. i know there have been a few incredibly wealthy civilians who have been able to experience space travel. and i think that in the decades to come, more and more people will have this opportunity afforded to them. i would like to think that nearly anyone who wanted to experience the thrill of blast-off and moon walking would be able to do it, although i can't say that i would be counted among them. it scares me, to be quite honest. but so do numerous other things that everyday people do on an everyday basis.
i do believe that space travel will become more common, but only among the very wealthy. besides, if our world can't figure out alternative fuel options (or make them readily available to the 'commoners' like myself), why would i think that average joe american could afford to travel through space? the technology will arrive, but will the economic resources?
Thursday, May 22, 2008
How Many Times Can I Spend My Economic Stimulus Check?
So here's the thing. We owed in taxes exactly the amount (plus $35) that we are getting in our stimulus check, so technically we are at a wash, in the negative even. But still, we had to pay those taxes in April, and we don't get our check til June, so it still feels like a bonus.
So hmmmm . . . on which of these should we spend our bonus bucks?
So hmmmm . . . on which of these should we spend our bonus bucks?
- A relaxing weekend cruise to the Caribbean, to re-charge our batteries after our recent life-changing event
- A wild night on the town, including an extravagent five course dinner for two, a dozen martinis apiece, a night in a newly built and fancy local hotel, mountains of Tylenol and coffee for the morning after, and reliable babysitting
- Matching forearm tattoos for Darlin', Frog, and me that say ANARCHY RULZ.
- An afternoon at the spa, where I will get my toenails, fingernails, hair, and (dear god, the most pressing thing) EYEBROWS done, and then get treated to a full body massage, and where Darlin' will get a steam and massage and anything else his little heart desires
- A new pet elephant
- A live-in masseuse
- A new wardrobe that bridges this awkward stage when I look ridiculous in both my maternity clothes (swimming in them, I am) and my regular clothes (I look like the Incredible Hulk just before he bursts through his shirt)
- A trip to Vegas with the other Wonder Women
- New truck tires, required for it to pass inspection which was due in, oh, JANUARY; a new catalytic converter for the Matrix; other routine car maintenance we recently had done; our hospital bill for birthing the boy which we were told seven months ago would be pretty much free and boy did they lie through their teeth; dental cleanings for both of us (and, sj, I do the same as you - decent dental insurance is going the way of the dodo these days); the yearly checkup and required shots for the cat and dog; I COULD GO ON
There used to be a time when I thought $1200 was big bucks, boy, if only I had $1200, man, I would be SET. These days . . . oh, these adult days . . . well, let's say $12,000 would be a little more like it! But, I'm not going to be one to look a gift horse in the mouth. We could have had all these expenses and no check coming, so I won't complain. I'll just grit my newly cleaned teeth, part my forest-like eyebrows so I can see, put my un-cut-for-6-months-and-counting hair in a ponytail, hang up a photo of the Caribbean (or better yet, review our honeymoon photos), survey my newly maintained and reliable cars, pet my newly maintained dog and cat, and go give my baby boy a big old raspberry in his chubby belly.
The extra bonus, though, is that we get a $35 refund on our state taxes. So I've got enough to join sj and Wicked in drinking down a six pack. And I might have a little left over to splurge the ten bucks to get my eyebrows done. ;)
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
This is a joke, right?
The topic this week must be a joke. Surely it is. Because, um, I DID NOT GET AN ECONOMIC STIMULUS CHECK. Oh wait. I did! It was for $29 and some change. Thanks, W! No, gosh, I am not bitter at all. Yes, Superman and I are very lucky that we make enough money to not qualify for the fortune that others did through this program. However, when you live in a place that is ten times as expensive as anywhere else, that sort of evens out or puts you at a disadvantage -- I'm guessing that did not occur to anyone. (I am looking at you W!) I am also adamantly opposed to the entire economic stimulus plan, so our check is still sitting on our hallway table. I refuse to cash it and spend it and when I have a chance I will go to the bank and deposit it straight into my savings account. Woo! $29 and some change.
So, let us pretend that I am willing to spend this $29 fortune that has been bestowed upon us. What shall I spend it on? I could go to the bookstore and pick up something new to read. I could buy loads of chocolate and stuff myself silly. I could pick up a new scarf or one and a half new t-shirts at Old Navy. I could buy that cute pair of flip flops I saw the other day at the mall. I could take my husband to Men's Wearhouse and help him choose a new tie. I could take him out to dinner to our favorite place (provided we do not order drinks and what fun would that be??). I could buy WonderCat some fancy cat food and spoil him with new catnip toys. I could take a yoga class at this studio I have been dying to try. Oh! I could take up drinking with super jane and g love and I am sure that MSO Rin would love to join us. They can buy the beer and I will buy the margarita fixings. A party sounds just about right.
My economic stimulus check? It is going straight to the bank. All $29 of it.
***To explain a lot of my economic stimulus bitterness, I would like to say that Superman and I owed about a jillion dollars to the federal government and we also owed hundreds to the local government. I love it when my company makes a mistake on my taxes and no one notices until, oops, it is time to pay that tax bill! LOVE that!
So, let us pretend that I am willing to spend this $29 fortune that has been bestowed upon us. What shall I spend it on? I could go to the bookstore and pick up something new to read. I could buy loads of chocolate and stuff myself silly. I could pick up a new scarf or one and a half new t-shirts at Old Navy. I could buy that cute pair of flip flops I saw the other day at the mall. I could take my husband to Men's Wearhouse and help him choose a new tie. I could take him out to dinner to our favorite place (provided we do not order drinks and what fun would that be??). I could buy WonderCat some fancy cat food and spoil him with new catnip toys. I could take a yoga class at this studio I have been dying to try. Oh! I could take up drinking with super jane and g love and I am sure that MSO Rin would love to join us. They can buy the beer and I will buy the margarita fixings. A party sounds just about right.
My economic stimulus check? It is going straight to the bank. All $29 of it.
***To explain a lot of my economic stimulus bitterness, I would like to say that Superman and I owed about a jillion dollars to the federal government and we also owed hundreds to the local government. I love it when my company makes a mistake on my taxes and no one notices until, oops, it is time to pay that tax bill! LOVE that!
Monday, May 19, 2008
i wonder how i'm going to spend my economic stimulus check?
we've anxiously checked our bank accounts waiting for our big federal bonus. we've logged on to the irs website in an attempt to pinpoint the exact date our stimulus check may arrive. i know we've all had this conversation with coworkers, family, and friends. but, since i just received my check in the mail, i thought about how we're going to spend the money that has newly padded my bank account.
super jas and i have discussed this issue several times. i proposed that we put $300 in each of the girls' bank accounts and let the rest of it sit in ours. we're very cheap (er...i mean 'frugal') and i confess that i hate spending money. surprisingly enough, he agreed. well, except for the part of giving $300 to little mama and aj. okay, fine. we'd save it for a rainy day when financial times became tough.
little did i know that we would spend our stimulus check the way in which it was intended last week. our lovely dog, zeke, decided that he would like to eat our storm door. he's right at a year old and although everyone tells me that he'll grow out of the chewing stage, i've yet to see any progress from him. this door wasn't the best quality. the lower portion of it had started to bow from weather or shoddy craftsmanship or whatever. it doesn't matter, i guess. what matters is that the bottom portion began to come apart and within a matter of days, zeke had chewed the entire bottom off of the door. the chipboard and fibers and everything else that gets stuffed into the lower portion of a storm door (and i think you'd be surprised at the kind of stuff that is in there) was all over our deck. and in zeke's poop scattered through the backyard.
okay, there goes $350 for a new storm door. at least we have a little left. oh, i think i should mention that we did not get the full amount in our stimulus check. we were expecting the $1800 that was more or less promised to us. how ticked was i when our actual check was for $1300? but, i digress...
after the $350 storm door, that left us with $950. hm...now that's not bad. but then...wait for it...wait for it... we went to the dentist. to make a long story short, we dropped our dental insurance because we discovered that we were paying MORE in order to HAVE insurance than we would be if we just paid the dentist out of pocket. (shouldn't that be illegal? g love, can you chime in here, ms. HR?) so, the super fam went to the dentist last thursday afternoon and dropped a cool $700 on cleanings. super jas has one cavity (which was cost us $200 on tuesday) and little mama is having her one and only adult tooth sealed (which will cost us $35 on tuesday).
the grand total for our home and dental improvements? since i work in the world of financial aid, i'll crunch the numbers for you. the grand total is $1285. we have a mere $15 left over from our stimulus check. i think i may spend that $15 on a case of beer. after this last week, i think i need it.
super jas and i have discussed this issue several times. i proposed that we put $300 in each of the girls' bank accounts and let the rest of it sit in ours. we're very cheap (er...i mean 'frugal') and i confess that i hate spending money. surprisingly enough, he agreed. well, except for the part of giving $300 to little mama and aj. okay, fine. we'd save it for a rainy day when financial times became tough.
little did i know that we would spend our stimulus check the way in which it was intended last week. our lovely dog, zeke, decided that he would like to eat our storm door. he's right at a year old and although everyone tells me that he'll grow out of the chewing stage, i've yet to see any progress from him. this door wasn't the best quality. the lower portion of it had started to bow from weather or shoddy craftsmanship or whatever. it doesn't matter, i guess. what matters is that the bottom portion began to come apart and within a matter of days, zeke had chewed the entire bottom off of the door. the chipboard and fibers and everything else that gets stuffed into the lower portion of a storm door (and i think you'd be surprised at the kind of stuff that is in there) was all over our deck. and in zeke's poop scattered through the backyard.
okay, there goes $350 for a new storm door. at least we have a little left. oh, i think i should mention that we did not get the full amount in our stimulus check. we were expecting the $1800 that was more or less promised to us. how ticked was i when our actual check was for $1300? but, i digress...
after the $350 storm door, that left us with $950. hm...now that's not bad. but then...wait for it...wait for it... we went to the dentist. to make a long story short, we dropped our dental insurance because we discovered that we were paying MORE in order to HAVE insurance than we would be if we just paid the dentist out of pocket. (shouldn't that be illegal? g love, can you chime in here, ms. HR?) so, the super fam went to the dentist last thursday afternoon and dropped a cool $700 on cleanings. super jas has one cavity (which was cost us $200 on tuesday) and little mama is having her one and only adult tooth sealed (which will cost us $35 on tuesday).
the grand total for our home and dental improvements? since i work in the world of financial aid, i'll crunch the numbers for you. the grand total is $1285. we have a mere $15 left over from our stimulus check. i think i may spend that $15 on a case of beer. after this last week, i think i need it.
Friday, May 16, 2008
How Old Am I?
I am the youngest of the Wonder Women at 29 (evil snicker.)
But today, right this minute, I am trapped in my house by a dictator child and also a stitch that won't heal. So I have to sit on my donut pillow with my, er, self exposed to the healing air, no walking no sitting normally no riding in the car, and every couple of hours or so have to feed the wriggling monster who could care less that mommy HURTS today, muffin. Today, I am 11 years old, whining to my mother in the middle of summer break that I'm BORED, there's NOTHING TO DO, GAWD our house is SOOOO BOOORRIINNGG. I don't WANNA watch tv, I don't WANNA read, I don't WANNA sit on this damn blue couch any more, I want to go outside in the 77 degrees and go on a hike or something. AUUGH.
This evening, at around 8pm, when my husband heads out to a party that we are both invited to but only one of us can go, and since I'm the sole food supply for the dictator, I will stay, well this evening I will feel approximately 43 years old. I will feel my mortgage. I will feel my parental status. I will feel my myriad responsibilities most keenly. I will feel, in a word, lame (apologies to all the VERY COOL 43 year olds in the world.)
Tonight, when I wake with the wriggling monster at 2am, I will be 97 years old. Fumbling. A little weak, in body and in mind. Tripping over nothing. Forgetting what I'm doing in the middle of doing it. Falling asleep at inappropriate times with my jaw slack, mouth open, drool slipping down my face.
Tomorrow morning, at dawn, as the long night finally draws to a close and sunlight starts to peep through the windows, I will hold a sated, milk-faced infant on my chest. He spends the night in his crib, but the morning is just for me, and I indulge in letting him sleep in my bed, just for an hour, the last hour, a gift to me for the labors of the night. He'll blink his blue eyes at me, slowly, slowly, until they close altogether, and as he drifts to sleep with his jaw slack, mouth open, drool and milk slipping down his face, his open palm will pat, pat, pat around until he finds a bit of exposed skin at the neck of my sleep shirt. And he'll rest his tiny hand there, on my skin, and breathe heavily into my ear, and I'll be 29 years old and happy, happier than I imagined was possible.
But today, right this minute, I am trapped in my house by a dictator child and also a stitch that won't heal. So I have to sit on my donut pillow with my, er, self exposed to the healing air, no walking no sitting normally no riding in the car, and every couple of hours or so have to feed the wriggling monster who could care less that mommy HURTS today, muffin. Today, I am 11 years old, whining to my mother in the middle of summer break that I'm BORED, there's NOTHING TO DO, GAWD our house is SOOOO BOOORRIINNGG. I don't WANNA watch tv, I don't WANNA read, I don't WANNA sit on this damn blue couch any more, I want to go outside in the 77 degrees and go on a hike or something. AUUGH.
This evening, at around 8pm, when my husband heads out to a party that we are both invited to but only one of us can go, and since I'm the sole food supply for the dictator, I will stay, well this evening I will feel approximately 43 years old. I will feel my mortgage. I will feel my parental status. I will feel my myriad responsibilities most keenly. I will feel, in a word, lame (apologies to all the VERY COOL 43 year olds in the world.)
Tonight, when I wake with the wriggling monster at 2am, I will be 97 years old. Fumbling. A little weak, in body and in mind. Tripping over nothing. Forgetting what I'm doing in the middle of doing it. Falling asleep at inappropriate times with my jaw slack, mouth open, drool slipping down my face.
Tomorrow morning, at dawn, as the long night finally draws to a close and sunlight starts to peep through the windows, I will hold a sated, milk-faced infant on my chest. He spends the night in his crib, but the morning is just for me, and I indulge in letting him sleep in my bed, just for an hour, the last hour, a gift to me for the labors of the night. He'll blink his blue eyes at me, slowly, slowly, until they close altogether, and as he drifts to sleep with his jaw slack, mouth open, drool and milk slipping down his face, his open palm will pat, pat, pat around until he finds a bit of exposed skin at the neck of my sleep shirt. And he'll rest his tiny hand there, on my skin, and breathe heavily into my ear, and I'll be 29 years old and happy, happier than I imagined was possible.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Am I That Old?
It is funny, really. There are some days that I wake up feeling like a kid. I could be twelve for all I know. Then there are other days that I feel like I am about 100. Most times I truly feel like I am 31 -- my current age. I have settled into this age fairly easily and for the first time in my life, I truly feel my actual age. I think I would feel older if I had children. That would be an awesome responsibility that would probably age me quite a bit. Since I only have myself and my husband to care for (and my super fluffy cat too!), I live a pretty easy life.
Now that I am 31, I am really starting to feel it. The past few years have been a touch more stressful in many regards and I would be lying if I did not say that there are some days when I wake up feeling like, "Woof. This 31 is a real bitch." Other days, I am beyond thankful that I have made it to 31 and that I have all of the experience and wisdom that come from 31 years of living on this Earth. Sure, my feet hurt a little bit more than they used to, but 31 really is not all that bad. Really!
Now that I am 31, I am really starting to feel it. The past few years have been a touch more stressful in many regards and I would be lying if I did not say that there are some days when I wake up feeling like, "Woof. This 31 is a real bitch." Other days, I am beyond thankful that I have made it to 31 and that I have all of the experience and wisdom that come from 31 years of living on this Earth. Sure, my feet hurt a little bit more than they used to, but 31 really is not all that bad. Really!
Monday, May 12, 2008
i wonder how old i'd be if i didn't know my real age?
if i didn't know my real age, i would probably guess that i was about 22. not because i'm immature or lack responsibility, but because i lack the confidence of a 30 year old, working, mother of two and wife to one.
when i first entered the workforce, i felt so green. i had graduated from our tiny college that existed inside it's own little bubble. for 22 years, i never experienced reality. within a month of graduating, i married super jas. i was hired at a local university and then reality kicked in. i realized that i was so inexperienced and felt like my coworkers were light years ahead of me in the game of life. i figured that as i got older, i would feel more competent. unfortunately, that hasn't been the case. i still feel green. i still feel like i'm wearing a beanie in this working world. and while i've advanced my career, i'm still as unsure of myself at 30 as i was at 22.
i hope i've matured since my 22nd year of life - at least outwardly anyway. i still like the old rap music i listened to in college. i still like to remember the good old days of dancing and hanging out with friends. i long for those days sometimes. i remember my new coworkers and i hanging out at a local pub after work. we'd have a few beers and then walk the quaint streets of our town back to our homes. and, if the truth be known, i'd probably still be that way if it weren't for the fact that i have two children. my, oh my, how life settles down once you become a mother.
so if i didn't know that i was 30, i'd feel like a 22 year old. my confidence hasn't grown much since i was 22 and yet i live to relish the memories of the freedom i held that year.
when i first entered the workforce, i felt so green. i had graduated from our tiny college that existed inside it's own little bubble. for 22 years, i never experienced reality. within a month of graduating, i married super jas. i was hired at a local university and then reality kicked in. i realized that i was so inexperienced and felt like my coworkers were light years ahead of me in the game of life. i figured that as i got older, i would feel more competent. unfortunately, that hasn't been the case. i still feel green. i still feel like i'm wearing a beanie in this working world. and while i've advanced my career, i'm still as unsure of myself at 30 as i was at 22.
i hope i've matured since my 22nd year of life - at least outwardly anyway. i still like the old rap music i listened to in college. i still like to remember the good old days of dancing and hanging out with friends. i long for those days sometimes. i remember my new coworkers and i hanging out at a local pub after work. we'd have a few beers and then walk the quaint streets of our town back to our homes. and, if the truth be known, i'd probably still be that way if it weren't for the fact that i have two children. my, oh my, how life settles down once you become a mother.
so if i didn't know that i was 30, i'd feel like a 22 year old. my confidence hasn't grown much since i was 22 and yet i live to relish the memories of the freedom i held that year.
Friday, May 9, 2008
i wonder when they'll move here?
i love my parents to death. i think they are two of the best people in this world. i love to hang out with them and talk with them and just be together. what i hate is the fact that they live nearly 8 hours away. i talk to my folks at least 5x/week, but i miss them. i miss their hugs the most. and, of course, i miss picking on my mom as we are prone to do.
my parents moved out to missouri during my freshman year of college. my dad changed jobs which took him far, far away from our home in indiana. it was tough going to my new home in missouri on college breaks and vacations, but i did okay. let me just say that the ozarks breed a whole different group of folks. they were not quite like the people i was used to being around in indiana. eventually though, i made some good friends and spent two glorious summers as a camp counselor at a campfire girls camp. it was nice, but i knew that i wouldn't return to missouri permanently. indiana had always held my heart (and it held my boy too.)
obviously, super jas and i have made our life in the only state either of us has called home. my sister lives a few hours away from us which is nice. we don't see each other incredibly often, but i love it when she and/or my brother-in-law stays overnight if either has a conference in the city. and while i love my in-laws and the many brothers and sister-in-law i have acquired who do live near us, no one is like my mom and dad. no one.
my parents have always said that they will move back to indiana when my dad retires. my parents are still young (they are only 57), so i know i've got a few more years of distance between us. it doesn't, however, stop me from looking for homes for them. i scour realty websites in search of a home for my parents at least once a week. sometimes i'll even send them the links so they can check it out for themselves. they always reply back to me with "thanks for thinking of us" or "maybe it will still be available in a few years" or some such comment. never have they said, "hmmm...this looks really good. i think we may need to take a trip to indiana and check it out for ourselves." that's okay, i suppose, because i know one day i'll get that reply in an email or phone call. good things come to those who wait. i just wonder how long that wait will be.
my parents moved out to missouri during my freshman year of college. my dad changed jobs which took him far, far away from our home in indiana. it was tough going to my new home in missouri on college breaks and vacations, but i did okay. let me just say that the ozarks breed a whole different group of folks. they were not quite like the people i was used to being around in indiana. eventually though, i made some good friends and spent two glorious summers as a camp counselor at a campfire girls camp. it was nice, but i knew that i wouldn't return to missouri permanently. indiana had always held my heart (and it held my boy too.)
obviously, super jas and i have made our life in the only state either of us has called home. my sister lives a few hours away from us which is nice. we don't see each other incredibly often, but i love it when she and/or my brother-in-law stays overnight if either has a conference in the city. and while i love my in-laws and the many brothers and sister-in-law i have acquired who do live near us, no one is like my mom and dad. no one.
my parents have always said that they will move back to indiana when my dad retires. my parents are still young (they are only 57), so i know i've got a few more years of distance between us. it doesn't, however, stop me from looking for homes for them. i scour realty websites in search of a home for my parents at least once a week. sometimes i'll even send them the links so they can check it out for themselves. they always reply back to me with "thanks for thinking of us" or "maybe it will still be available in a few years" or some such comment. never have they said, "hmmm...this looks really good. i think we may need to take a trip to indiana and check it out for ourselves." that's okay, i suppose, because i know one day i'll get that reply in an email or phone call. good things come to those who wait. i just wonder how long that wait will be.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
My Best Physical Trait
Well. This is a somewhat cruel I Wonder for a postpartum woman to ponder (that's kind of a tongue twister, isn't it?) All of my favorite physical traits have been stretched beyond recognition lately and I'm not sure how many of them are going to bounce back (belly button? Will you ever be normal looking again?) I could go all squiffy and talk about how my uterus is my best physical trait because it just produced a handsome young darling miracle baby, but even hormonal new mommy me ain't that romantic about the big messy 9 (10) month ordeal my body just went through. Right now I'm quite pleased with my boobies, which are worthy of a Playmate of the Year, but they shouldn't count because (a) their inflated state is temporary, and (b) I have a sneaking suspicion that once my milk dries up they will become my worst trait, a pair of drooping puppies that I can tuck into my belt. So. Hmmmmm.
Well, I am going to go on the presumption that in approximately six months, all the parts of me that can be will be mostly back to normal, because I will be able to resume running and exercising in earnest after about 3 months. Therefore, if we can all cast our eyes back to pre-pregnancy, or cast our eyes forward to September or so, this is my fave physical trait:
I have good legs. Especially if we confine our gaze to the area from about eight inches above the knee to where the foot begins at the ankle. I started running (er, jogging actually) when I was 16, and though that's pretty much the only "sport" in which I have ever participated, that apparently has been enough to keep my stems in shape. My legs are fairly long - longer than my husband's, and he's taller than me by 5 inches. They look rotten in shorts and in knee length skirts, but slap me into a mini skirt and heels and I can "make them boys go Rock Rock, and they be ridin' down the block just to watch what I got."
The calves, they are shapely. The ankle, she turns just so. The knees - ok, the knees have a few scars on them from the odd tumble during a run/hike/walk down a totally obstacle-free hallway (nice legs on that girl, but she's still clumsy as hell). But in dim lighting, all scars are forgiven. The lower thighs are a bit distressing at this particular moment, but if we are casting our gaze where we are supposed to be casting our gaze (cast, bitter sleep-deprived mind, cast with all your might), we can recall that they are normally fairly toned and without cellulite (which all tends to congregate up a little higher.)
I like my legs. I tend to show them off, when I'm not gestating. Other folks may be looking at me going - damn, girl, who do you think you are, Elle McPherson? But when I see myself in the mirror, I say to myself - damn girl, who does Elle McPherson think she is?
Well, I am going to go on the presumption that in approximately six months, all the parts of me that can be will be mostly back to normal, because I will be able to resume running and exercising in earnest after about 3 months. Therefore, if we can all cast our eyes back to pre-pregnancy, or cast our eyes forward to September or so, this is my fave physical trait:
I have good legs. Especially if we confine our gaze to the area from about eight inches above the knee to where the foot begins at the ankle. I started running (er, jogging actually) when I was 16, and though that's pretty much the only "sport" in which I have ever participated, that apparently has been enough to keep my stems in shape. My legs are fairly long - longer than my husband's, and he's taller than me by 5 inches. They look rotten in shorts and in knee length skirts, but slap me into a mini skirt and heels and I can "make them boys go Rock Rock, and they be ridin' down the block just to watch what I got."
The calves, they are shapely. The ankle, she turns just so. The knees - ok, the knees have a few scars on them from the odd tumble during a run/hike/walk down a totally obstacle-free hallway (nice legs on that girl, but she's still clumsy as hell). But in dim lighting, all scars are forgiven. The lower thighs are a bit distressing at this particular moment, but if we are casting our gaze where we are supposed to be casting our gaze (cast, bitter sleep-deprived mind, cast with all your might), we can recall that they are normally fairly toned and without cellulite (which all tends to congregate up a little higher.)
I like my legs. I tend to show them off, when I'm not gestating. Other folks may be looking at me going - damn, girl, who do you think you are, Elle McPherson? But when I see myself in the mirror, I say to myself - damn girl, who does Elle McPherson think she is?
I. Am. Hot.
If I were writing this entry a few years ago, I would have probably said that my best physical feature is my legs. Now they are cellulite covered and are quite large, so they are no longer what I am most proud of. My biscuit used to get me a lot of compliments, but these days I try to hide it more than I try to show it off. My six pack abs are now hiding under a layer of junk food fluff so they are out too. My hair? It is not so bad, but it is very short so I cannot compete with girls like super jane who have long, lovely, flowing locks of hair. Should I be boring and say my eyes? I do love my eyes as they are bright green, change colors depending upon what I am wearing, and they are very big. Nearly everyone asks me if my green eyes are my natural color and they are always shocked when I answer in the affirmative. I have really pretty hands! I also have collarbones that could cut glass. None of these is right...
I am going to be tricky and say my voice and my laugh. Shut up. I am combining them because I can! And they are physical traits! You just cannot see them upon meeting me. Anyway, my voice is super rad. I would like to say that I have a very expressive voice, I can do all kinds of funny sound effects, and I can make my voice smooth like buttah when necessary. If you know what I mean. My voice is uniquely mine and I have never met anyone else with a voice even remotely similar to mine. (As a side note? I love that we all have that internal voice ear that is totally thrown when we hear our voice on an answering machine or voice mail -- "I do NOT sound like that!".)
My laugh is part and parcel of my voice, I believe. It can be totally silent, it can be quiet and giggly or it can be loud and raucous. And, yes, people do turn and look at me when I let out a big guffaw in a public place. Even now, there are times my own husband will turn and look at me with his eyes wide and full of surprise after I have laughed loudly. It is almost as if he cannot believe that I am actually laughing that loud. Hey, he may have married me for my collarbones and/or my green eyes, but he stayed for the like-buttah voice and the laugh shocks! My laugh, like my voice, is something that is all my own. I used to hate that I laughed so loudly or that when I laugh and laugh and laugh, I sometimes snort. Now that I am older, I embrace the laugh and the snorting (it happens rarely but when it does, it is very good for getting others to laugh too) as part of who I am. I am less inhibited as I age and I think my sense of humor improves as well. So, the laugh is really just a complement to my sense of humor. (Physical traits here, people, but I totally would have chosen sense of humor for my best non-physical trait! I am hilarious and I find quite a lot of things hilarious. Also? My sarcasm. DUH.)
***Do not for one second think that I did not consider writing this entry from the perspective of one of my internal organs or cervical rib. Yes, rib, I only have one. I could have gone muuuuch deeper with this entry, so be very appreciative that I chose voice and laugh.
I am going to be tricky and say my voice and my laugh. Shut up. I am combining them because I can! And they are physical traits! You just cannot see them upon meeting me. Anyway, my voice is super rad. I would like to say that I have a very expressive voice, I can do all kinds of funny sound effects, and I can make my voice smooth like buttah when necessary. If you know what I mean. My voice is uniquely mine and I have never met anyone else with a voice even remotely similar to mine. (As a side note? I love that we all have that internal voice ear that is totally thrown when we hear our voice on an answering machine or voice mail -- "I do NOT sound like that!".)
My laugh is part and parcel of my voice, I believe. It can be totally silent, it can be quiet and giggly or it can be loud and raucous. And, yes, people do turn and look at me when I let out a big guffaw in a public place. Even now, there are times my own husband will turn and look at me with his eyes wide and full of surprise after I have laughed loudly. It is almost as if he cannot believe that I am actually laughing that loud. Hey, he may have married me for my collarbones and/or my green eyes, but he stayed for the like-buttah voice and the laugh shocks! My laugh, like my voice, is something that is all my own. I used to hate that I laughed so loudly or that when I laugh and laugh and laugh, I sometimes snort. Now that I am older, I embrace the laugh and the snorting (it happens rarely but when it does, it is very good for getting others to laugh too) as part of who I am. I am less inhibited as I age and I think my sense of humor improves as well. So, the laugh is really just a complement to my sense of humor. (Physical traits here, people, but I totally would have chosen sense of humor for my best non-physical trait! I am hilarious and I find quite a lot of things hilarious. Also? My sarcasm. DUH.)
***Do not for one second think that I did not consider writing this entry from the perspective of one of my internal organs or cervical rib. Yes, rib, I only have one. I could have gone muuuuch deeper with this entry, so be very appreciative that I chose voice and laugh.
Monday, May 5, 2008
i wonder what my best physical trait is?
hello all! i am now taking over the reigns to the ww blog. please bear with me as this is our busy season in my profession. i will do my absolute best to keep up with the monday morning topic, but if i fail to post until tuesday, please don't remove us from your 'favorites.' thank you.
now, on to the topic. i wonder what my best physical trait is? i'm sure this is a tough one for most women, but we all know we have that little something about ourselves that makes us think, 'yeah, i'm hot.' that one trait that makes us just a bit vain. the one trait that makes us think, 'yeah, i hear that a lot' when someone compliments it.
in my opinion, my best physical trait is my hair. i started out with good intentions to grow my hair for locks of love. my hair grows quickly, so i knew it wouldn't take me long to get the required inches. but as my hair grew, the shinier it got. the shinier it got, the more compliments i received. and now, i just can't stand to part with it. i know it's selfish. i know it's completely vain, but i can't help it.
i love the way my hair looks now. i love that i can pull it up into a ponytail or just let it air dry and it looks great. i love that i don't have to do anything with my hair. and i love that nearly every day someone at the university comments on how long my hair is getting and how pretty it looks. i've never cared about my hair before, but somehow i've morphed into a gal who can't stand the thought of cutting it short again. what is wrong with me?
so there you have it.
my vanity.
my deadly sin.
my hair.
now, on to the topic. i wonder what my best physical trait is? i'm sure this is a tough one for most women, but we all know we have that little something about ourselves that makes us think, 'yeah, i'm hot.' that one trait that makes us just a bit vain. the one trait that makes us think, 'yeah, i hear that a lot' when someone compliments it.
in my opinion, my best physical trait is my hair. i started out with good intentions to grow my hair for locks of love. my hair grows quickly, so i knew it wouldn't take me long to get the required inches. but as my hair grew, the shinier it got. the shinier it got, the more compliments i received. and now, i just can't stand to part with it. i know it's selfish. i know it's completely vain, but i can't help it.
i love the way my hair looks now. i love that i can pull it up into a ponytail or just let it air dry and it looks great. i love that i don't have to do anything with my hair. and i love that nearly every day someone at the university comments on how long my hair is getting and how pretty it looks. i've never cared about my hair before, but somehow i've morphed into a gal who can't stand the thought of cutting it short again. what is wrong with me?
so there you have it.
my vanity.
my deadly sin.
my hair.
Friday, May 2, 2008
I WONDER WHAT THE SCARIEST THING WAS?
FIRST, AND FORGIVE ME THIS, OH WONDER WOMEN AND READERS, BUT I MUST WISH MY SON A HAPPY WEEK BIRTHDAY! A WEEK AGO THIS VERY MINUTE, FROG BABY (AS HE WILL NOW BE KNOWN) WAS BEING WEIGHED AND HAVING HIS FOOTPRINTS RECORDED, WHILE MY WONDERFUL MIDWIFE PUT ME BACK TOGETHER AND MY HUSBAND AND SISTER MADE LOTS OF PHONE CALLS. HAPPY BIRTHDAY LITTLE FROG.
OK. NOW. SCARY STUFF.
AS LONG TIME READERS (AND FANS) ALREADY KNOW, I FLEW TO AUSTRALIA WHEN I WAS TWENTY ONE YEARS OLD, TO FINISH MY COLLEGE DEGREE AS AN EXCHANGE STUDENT, AND THEN SPEND SOME TIME THERE TRAVELING. SINCE I HAD TO PAY FOR THE WHOLE TRIP MYSELF (MY PARENTS WERE VERY ANTI-TRAVEL IN THOSE DAYS!), I HAD TO PURCHASE THE CHEAPEST TICKET I COULD GET. 55 HOURS, AIRPORT TO AIRPORT, AND THAT DIDN'T COUNT THE ONE HOUR OF TRAVEL TO THE AIRPORT ON EITHER END. IT WAS A LOOOOOOOOOONG TRIP.
I HAD LAYOVERS IN LOTS OF PLACES, INCLUDING FLORIDA, I THINK AMSTERDAM MAYBE?, AND TOKYO. THE LONGEST WAS IN MALAYSIA. ACCORDING TO MY TICKET I WOULD BE SPENDING OVER 24 HOURS IN KUALA LUMPUR, THE CAPITAL OF MALAYSIA . . . BUT THE AIRLINE KINDLY PROVIDED ME WITH A HOTEL FOR THE NIGHT AND FOOD VOUCHERS FOR ALL DAY, SO IN THE END I SORT OF GOT A FREE PASS TO SEE ANOTHER CITY. A LITTLE MINI TRIP, IF YOU WILL.
I WOULD ARRIVE IN KUALA LUMPUR AT ABOUT 2 AM, AND A HOTEL SHUTTLE HAD BEEN ARRANGED FOR ALL OF US WHO WERE NOT TERMINATING THERE. WE WERE TO COLLECT OUR BAGGAGE, CHECK IN THROUGH CUSTOMS (A VERY CURSORY CHECK, IF I RECALL CORRECTLY), AND THEN FIND THE SHUTTLE. I HAD THE ABSOLUTE BIGGEST SUITCASE YOU'VE EVER SEEN - PEOPLE WERE CALLING IT A "TRUNK," AND IT WAS COVERED IN THOSE STICKERS THAT SAY "DANGER - HEAVY," AND HAVE A PICTURE OF A STICK FIGURE MAN WHOSE BACK IS BREAKING. IT WASN'T MY ONLY BAG, EITHER, SO ONCE I'D COLLECTED EVERYTHING, I MUST HAVE LOOKED A PITIFUL SIGHT, STRUGGLING DOWN THE CORRIDOR. PITIFUL . . . OR EASY PREY.
AN AIRPORT WORKER APPEARED AND ASKED IF HE COULD ASSIST ME, AND THEN GRABBED MY LARGE BAG FROM ME BEFORE I COULD ANSWER. "WHERE YOU GO?" HE ASKED, "I TAKE YOU, NO PROBLEM." I KNEW I'D HAVE TO TIP HIM, BUT I NEEDED THE HELP, SO I SAID "THE SHUTTLE FOR THE EMERALD PALACE," OR WHATEVER THE NAME OF MY HOTEL WAS. "AHHH," HE SAID, "EMERALD PALACE, I TAKE YOU!" HE GRABBED AN ELECTRIC CART AND PILED ALL OF MY STUFF ON IT, AND THEN OFFERED ME A SEAT. "I REALLY DON'T THINK THE SHUTTLE IS THAT FAR," I SAID, BUT HE INSISTED "NO, NO, NO SHUTTLE, VERY CLOSE, I TAKE YOU."
THIS MAN LED ME ON A TWENTY MINUTE RIDE ALL THROUGH THE AIRPORT, TAKING TURNS HERE AND THERE, JABBERING AT ME THE WHOLE WAY, WHILE I KEPT TRYING TO EXPLAIN THAT I THOUGHT I NEEDED A SHUTTLE, WEREN'T THE SHUTTLES THAT WAY?, AND WHERE EXACTLY DO YOU THINK I NEED TO GO BECAUSE I THINK YOU'RE WRONG, UM SIR? SIR? EVENTUALLY, WE PULLED UP TO A SET OF DOUBLE DOORS WHICH LED TO THE LOBBY OF A HOTEL ATTACHED TO THE AIRPORT - IT WAS THE KING EMERALD, OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT. NOT MY HOTEL.
"OH, SORRY SORRY," SAID THE MAN, "YOU NEED SHUTTLE FOR YOU HOTEL. I TAKE YOU SHUTTLE." AND HE DROVE ME BACK TWENTY MINUTES TO WHERE WE'D ORIGINALLY STARTED OUT, AT THE SHUTTLE BAY, WHICH WAS EMPTY BECAUSE OF COURSE MY HOTEL SHUTTLE TOOK OFF 35 MINUTES AGO WHILE I WAS BEING LED ON A WILD GOOSE CHASE. "OH DEAR," SAID THE MAN, "NO SHUTTLE, YOU TAKE TAXI. HERE TAXI MAN!" AND HE WAVED DOWN A TAXI DRIVER. "AHHH," I THOUGHT, "SO THIS IS THE RACKET. HE KNEW ALL ALONG. HE PROBABLY GETS A CUT FROM THIS TAXI DRIVER, FOR TRICKING POOR HELPLESS TRAVELERS OUT OF THEIR FREE SHUTTLE SERVICE." I SIGHED, AND PAID THE MAN A TIP ANYWAY, AND THEN HE AND THE TAXI DRIVER PILED MY STUFF INTO A CAR.
I GOT IN THE FRONT SEAT OF THE CAR WITH THIS MAN, AND WE DROVE AWAY. THE AREA AROUND THE KUALA LUMPUR AIRPORT IS NOT VERY BUILT UP. IN FACT, IT WAS COMPLETELY DESERTED, AND DARK, WITH NO ELECTRIC LIGHTS EVEN ON THE HIGHWAY. IT WAS 3 AM. I SNUCK A GLANCE AT MY DRIVER OUT OF THE CORNER OF MY EYE. HE WAS PROBABLY IN HIS MID THIRTIES. UNSHAVEN, WITH RUMPLED CLOTHES, AND BLACKENED TEETH. I THEN CAST MY EYES AROUND THE CAR. HMMMM. NO SIGN OF A METER. OR, LIKE, A TAXI DRIVER I.D. OR ANYTHING TO INDICATE THAT I WAS ACTUALLY IN A TAXI.
AND SUDDENLY, MY THROAT CLOSED UP, AND MY HEART PLUNGED INTO MY STOMACH. WE WERE DRIVING EVER DEEPER INTO THE DARK, THIS STRANGE MAN AND I, AND I REALIZED JUST HOW TOTALLY FOOLISH I HAD BEEN TO ALLOW THESE TWO MEN TO MANIPULATE ME BY GRABBING MY LUGGAGE AND FORCING ME TO FOLLOW. NOW I WAS IN THIS CAR, IN THE UTTER DARKNESS, IN A COUNTRY THAT COULD NOT BE MORE FOREIGN TO ME, AND FOR ALL I KNEW THIS GUY WAS GOING TO PULL OVER ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD, SHOOT ME, AND STEAL MY MONEY AND THINGS. I WOULD BE A FIVE MINUTE HEADLINE ON THE NEWS - YOUNG AMERICAN TRAVELER MISSING, FEARED DEAD. BODY OF YOUNG AMERICAN TRAVELER FOUND, BOUND AND GAGGED AND DUMPED BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD. I WOULD BE A CAUTIONARY TALE.
I CANNOT DESCRIBE TO YOU THE FEAR I FELT DURING THIS WHOLE 45 MINUTE RIDE. THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO BUT SIT IN THE FRONT SEAT AND PRAY, PRAY, PRAY THAT I WAS REALLY IN A REAL TAXI, AND THAT MY HOTEL WOULD APPEAR ON THE HORIZON SOON. AND PRAY I DID, SILENTLY, EVERY SECOND RIGHT UP UNTIL I SAW LIGHTS AHEAD, AND THEN A CLUSTER OF BUILDINGS, AND THEN A TALL, BRIGHTLY LIT HOTEL WITH A SIGN THAT SAID "EMERALD PALACE."
MY DRIVER PASSED MY LUGGAGE TO THE BELL HOP AND TOOK HIS FARE, AND I RODE THE ELEVATOR TO MY ROOM, AND ONCE I GOT INSIDE WITH THE DOOR SHUT, I LAY ON THE BED AND CRIED AND CRIED. IT WAS 4AM. AN HOUR LATER, SOME PEOPLE WOULD HAVE A SCREAMING ARGUMENT IN THE HALL, AND A BODY WOULD BE THROWN AGAINST MY DOOR. I COVERED MY FACE WITH MY HANDS AND MURMURED, I JUST WANT TO BE THERE, WHY CAN'T I JUST BE THERE NOW, I JUST WANT TO GET THERE, PLEASE LET ME GET THERE SOON, SOON, SOON, SOON, SOON . . .
I SLEPT ABOUT HALF AN HOUR THAT NIGHT, AND THE NEXT DAY, UNDER THE LIGHT OF THE HOT SUN, KUALA LUMPUR LOOKED SIGNIFICANTLY LESS THREATENING. MY FLIGHT WASN'T UNTIL 10PM OR SO, SO I STORED MY BAGS WITH THE HOTEL AND WAS DIRECTED TO A TAXI TOUR SERVICE. I SPENT THE DAY WITH A YOUNG, KIND EGYPTIAN FAMILY WHO WERE ALSO FLYING TO SYDNEY THAT NIGHT. WE RODE AROUND THE CITY WITH A HILARIOUS TAXI DRIVER WHO SHOWED US LOTS OF AMAZING SIGHTS. I DON'T HAVE A SINGLE PICTURE, BECAUSE I WAS TOO AFRAID TO CARRY MY CAMERA. I DREW PICTURES OF WHAT I SAW INSTEAD.
I SURVIVED THAT, AND MANY OTHER BLUNDERS DURING MY TRAVELS THAT COULD HAVE ENDED MUCH DIFFERENTLY. I'M LUCKY. I'M SMARTER NOW. AND I GUESS, KNOWING WHAT I KNOW NOW OF THE WORLD, THAT I CAN'T REALLY BLAME MY PARENTS FOR NOT SUPPORTING MY TRIP ACROSS THE WORLD, AT SUCH A YOUNG AGE, WHEN I WAS SO CLEARLY UNSUITED TO TAKE CARE OF MYSELF. BUT I'M ALSO GLAD I DIDN'T LISTEN TO THEM. I TYPED THIS WHOLE ENTRY WITH MY SEVEN DAY OLD SON IN THE CROOK OF MY ARM (AND DON'T THINK THAT WASN'T TRICKY!), AND THE THOUGHT OF HIM IN DANGER OF BEING MURDERED AND DUMPED IN A STRANGE COUNTRY MAKES MY BLOOD RUN COLD. STILL, I HOPE HE'S BRAVE AND DEFIANT ENOUGH TO IGNORE ME IF I TRY TO STOP HIM FROM SEEING THE WORLD. AND I ALSO HOPE HES A LITTLE SMARTER THAN HIS MAMA, OR JUST AS LUCKY.
OK. NOW. SCARY STUFF.
AS LONG TIME READERS (AND FANS) ALREADY KNOW, I FLEW TO AUSTRALIA WHEN I WAS TWENTY ONE YEARS OLD, TO FINISH MY COLLEGE DEGREE AS AN EXCHANGE STUDENT, AND THEN SPEND SOME TIME THERE TRAVELING. SINCE I HAD TO PAY FOR THE WHOLE TRIP MYSELF (MY PARENTS WERE VERY ANTI-TRAVEL IN THOSE DAYS!), I HAD TO PURCHASE THE CHEAPEST TICKET I COULD GET. 55 HOURS, AIRPORT TO AIRPORT, AND THAT DIDN'T COUNT THE ONE HOUR OF TRAVEL TO THE AIRPORT ON EITHER END. IT WAS A LOOOOOOOOOONG TRIP.
I HAD LAYOVERS IN LOTS OF PLACES, INCLUDING FLORIDA, I THINK AMSTERDAM MAYBE?, AND TOKYO. THE LONGEST WAS IN MALAYSIA. ACCORDING TO MY TICKET I WOULD BE SPENDING OVER 24 HOURS IN KUALA LUMPUR, THE CAPITAL OF MALAYSIA . . . BUT THE AIRLINE KINDLY PROVIDED ME WITH A HOTEL FOR THE NIGHT AND FOOD VOUCHERS FOR ALL DAY, SO IN THE END I SORT OF GOT A FREE PASS TO SEE ANOTHER CITY. A LITTLE MINI TRIP, IF YOU WILL.
I WOULD ARRIVE IN KUALA LUMPUR AT ABOUT 2 AM, AND A HOTEL SHUTTLE HAD BEEN ARRANGED FOR ALL OF US WHO WERE NOT TERMINATING THERE. WE WERE TO COLLECT OUR BAGGAGE, CHECK IN THROUGH CUSTOMS (A VERY CURSORY CHECK, IF I RECALL CORRECTLY), AND THEN FIND THE SHUTTLE. I HAD THE ABSOLUTE BIGGEST SUITCASE YOU'VE EVER SEEN - PEOPLE WERE CALLING IT A "TRUNK," AND IT WAS COVERED IN THOSE STICKERS THAT SAY "DANGER - HEAVY," AND HAVE A PICTURE OF A STICK FIGURE MAN WHOSE BACK IS BREAKING. IT WASN'T MY ONLY BAG, EITHER, SO ONCE I'D COLLECTED EVERYTHING, I MUST HAVE LOOKED A PITIFUL SIGHT, STRUGGLING DOWN THE CORRIDOR. PITIFUL . . . OR EASY PREY.
AN AIRPORT WORKER APPEARED AND ASKED IF HE COULD ASSIST ME, AND THEN GRABBED MY LARGE BAG FROM ME BEFORE I COULD ANSWER. "WHERE YOU GO?" HE ASKED, "I TAKE YOU, NO PROBLEM." I KNEW I'D HAVE TO TIP HIM, BUT I NEEDED THE HELP, SO I SAID "THE SHUTTLE FOR THE EMERALD PALACE," OR WHATEVER THE NAME OF MY HOTEL WAS. "AHHH," HE SAID, "EMERALD PALACE, I TAKE YOU!" HE GRABBED AN ELECTRIC CART AND PILED ALL OF MY STUFF ON IT, AND THEN OFFERED ME A SEAT. "I REALLY DON'T THINK THE SHUTTLE IS THAT FAR," I SAID, BUT HE INSISTED "NO, NO, NO SHUTTLE, VERY CLOSE, I TAKE YOU."
THIS MAN LED ME ON A TWENTY MINUTE RIDE ALL THROUGH THE AIRPORT, TAKING TURNS HERE AND THERE, JABBERING AT ME THE WHOLE WAY, WHILE I KEPT TRYING TO EXPLAIN THAT I THOUGHT I NEEDED A SHUTTLE, WEREN'T THE SHUTTLES THAT WAY?, AND WHERE EXACTLY DO YOU THINK I NEED TO GO BECAUSE I THINK YOU'RE WRONG, UM SIR? SIR? EVENTUALLY, WE PULLED UP TO A SET OF DOUBLE DOORS WHICH LED TO THE LOBBY OF A HOTEL ATTACHED TO THE AIRPORT - IT WAS THE KING EMERALD, OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT. NOT MY HOTEL.
"OH, SORRY SORRY," SAID THE MAN, "YOU NEED SHUTTLE FOR YOU HOTEL. I TAKE YOU SHUTTLE." AND HE DROVE ME BACK TWENTY MINUTES TO WHERE WE'D ORIGINALLY STARTED OUT, AT THE SHUTTLE BAY, WHICH WAS EMPTY BECAUSE OF COURSE MY HOTEL SHUTTLE TOOK OFF 35 MINUTES AGO WHILE I WAS BEING LED ON A WILD GOOSE CHASE. "OH DEAR," SAID THE MAN, "NO SHUTTLE, YOU TAKE TAXI. HERE TAXI MAN!" AND HE WAVED DOWN A TAXI DRIVER. "AHHH," I THOUGHT, "SO THIS IS THE RACKET. HE KNEW ALL ALONG. HE PROBABLY GETS A CUT FROM THIS TAXI DRIVER, FOR TRICKING POOR HELPLESS TRAVELERS OUT OF THEIR FREE SHUTTLE SERVICE." I SIGHED, AND PAID THE MAN A TIP ANYWAY, AND THEN HE AND THE TAXI DRIVER PILED MY STUFF INTO A CAR.
I GOT IN THE FRONT SEAT OF THE CAR WITH THIS MAN, AND WE DROVE AWAY. THE AREA AROUND THE KUALA LUMPUR AIRPORT IS NOT VERY BUILT UP. IN FACT, IT WAS COMPLETELY DESERTED, AND DARK, WITH NO ELECTRIC LIGHTS EVEN ON THE HIGHWAY. IT WAS 3 AM. I SNUCK A GLANCE AT MY DRIVER OUT OF THE CORNER OF MY EYE. HE WAS PROBABLY IN HIS MID THIRTIES. UNSHAVEN, WITH RUMPLED CLOTHES, AND BLACKENED TEETH. I THEN CAST MY EYES AROUND THE CAR. HMMMM. NO SIGN OF A METER. OR, LIKE, A TAXI DRIVER I.D. OR ANYTHING TO INDICATE THAT I WAS ACTUALLY IN A TAXI.
AND SUDDENLY, MY THROAT CLOSED UP, AND MY HEART PLUNGED INTO MY STOMACH. WE WERE DRIVING EVER DEEPER INTO THE DARK, THIS STRANGE MAN AND I, AND I REALIZED JUST HOW TOTALLY FOOLISH I HAD BEEN TO ALLOW THESE TWO MEN TO MANIPULATE ME BY GRABBING MY LUGGAGE AND FORCING ME TO FOLLOW. NOW I WAS IN THIS CAR, IN THE UTTER DARKNESS, IN A COUNTRY THAT COULD NOT BE MORE FOREIGN TO ME, AND FOR ALL I KNEW THIS GUY WAS GOING TO PULL OVER ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD, SHOOT ME, AND STEAL MY MONEY AND THINGS. I WOULD BE A FIVE MINUTE HEADLINE ON THE NEWS - YOUNG AMERICAN TRAVELER MISSING, FEARED DEAD. BODY OF YOUNG AMERICAN TRAVELER FOUND, BOUND AND GAGGED AND DUMPED BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD. I WOULD BE A CAUTIONARY TALE.
I CANNOT DESCRIBE TO YOU THE FEAR I FELT DURING THIS WHOLE 45 MINUTE RIDE. THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO BUT SIT IN THE FRONT SEAT AND PRAY, PRAY, PRAY THAT I WAS REALLY IN A REAL TAXI, AND THAT MY HOTEL WOULD APPEAR ON THE HORIZON SOON. AND PRAY I DID, SILENTLY, EVERY SECOND RIGHT UP UNTIL I SAW LIGHTS AHEAD, AND THEN A CLUSTER OF BUILDINGS, AND THEN A TALL, BRIGHTLY LIT HOTEL WITH A SIGN THAT SAID "EMERALD PALACE."
MY DRIVER PASSED MY LUGGAGE TO THE BELL HOP AND TOOK HIS FARE, AND I RODE THE ELEVATOR TO MY ROOM, AND ONCE I GOT INSIDE WITH THE DOOR SHUT, I LAY ON THE BED AND CRIED AND CRIED. IT WAS 4AM. AN HOUR LATER, SOME PEOPLE WOULD HAVE A SCREAMING ARGUMENT IN THE HALL, AND A BODY WOULD BE THROWN AGAINST MY DOOR. I COVERED MY FACE WITH MY HANDS AND MURMURED, I JUST WANT TO BE THERE, WHY CAN'T I JUST BE THERE NOW, I JUST WANT TO GET THERE, PLEASE LET ME GET THERE SOON, SOON, SOON, SOON, SOON . . .
I SLEPT ABOUT HALF AN HOUR THAT NIGHT, AND THE NEXT DAY, UNDER THE LIGHT OF THE HOT SUN, KUALA LUMPUR LOOKED SIGNIFICANTLY LESS THREATENING. MY FLIGHT WASN'T UNTIL 10PM OR SO, SO I STORED MY BAGS WITH THE HOTEL AND WAS DIRECTED TO A TAXI TOUR SERVICE. I SPENT THE DAY WITH A YOUNG, KIND EGYPTIAN FAMILY WHO WERE ALSO FLYING TO SYDNEY THAT NIGHT. WE RODE AROUND THE CITY WITH A HILARIOUS TAXI DRIVER WHO SHOWED US LOTS OF AMAZING SIGHTS. I DON'T HAVE A SINGLE PICTURE, BECAUSE I WAS TOO AFRAID TO CARRY MY CAMERA. I DREW PICTURES OF WHAT I SAW INSTEAD.
I SURVIVED THAT, AND MANY OTHER BLUNDERS DURING MY TRAVELS THAT COULD HAVE ENDED MUCH DIFFERENTLY. I'M LUCKY. I'M SMARTER NOW. AND I GUESS, KNOWING WHAT I KNOW NOW OF THE WORLD, THAT I CAN'T REALLY BLAME MY PARENTS FOR NOT SUPPORTING MY TRIP ACROSS THE WORLD, AT SUCH A YOUNG AGE, WHEN I WAS SO CLEARLY UNSUITED TO TAKE CARE OF MYSELF. BUT I'M ALSO GLAD I DIDN'T LISTEN TO THEM. I TYPED THIS WHOLE ENTRY WITH MY SEVEN DAY OLD SON IN THE CROOK OF MY ARM (AND DON'T THINK THAT WASN'T TRICKY!), AND THE THOUGHT OF HIM IN DANGER OF BEING MURDERED AND DUMPED IN A STRANGE COUNTRY MAKES MY BLOOD RUN COLD. STILL, I HOPE HE'S BRAVE AND DEFIANT ENOUGH TO IGNORE ME IF I TRY TO STOP HIM FROM SEEING THE WORLD. AND I ALSO HOPE HES A LITTLE SMARTER THAN HIS MAMA, OR JUST AS LUCKY.
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