Free-grazing rabbits and dead raccoons

I went grocery shopping with my sister Amy tonight. I thought my love affair with food gathering had ended - like when I put off grocery shopping in Columbia until I only have a jar of tainted peanut butter left. But I realized that it wasn't that I stopped liking groceries - it's just that it wasn't the same without my best friend and fellow shopper.

We decided that this summer, we're going to go grocery shopping as late at night as possible and in the most hideous outfits as possible. We gave it the good old college try tonight - me in my hot pink t-shirt (with a cow emblem on the front, obviously), navy blue cheerleader shorts, black flip flops, a cream-colored wool zip-up jacket and a black headband. Amy looked even hotter in her pink cat pajama shorts and leopard print flats.

We came up with perfectly plausible scenerios as we meandered through the fresh vegetable section of the store. What would the workers do if we brought in a couple of rabbits to free graze? Would it be too odd to carry a bouquet of broccoli in a wedding? And why, we wondered, inching toward the meat section, would someone want to buy pork riblets? Doesn't that just sound off?

We went down all of the aisles a couple of times, apparently looking lost and getting asked twice if we needed help. In fact, we were in the grocery store so long that we actually saw a very attractive 20-something year old guy in there - and that's when I almost started regretting that I hadn't brushed my hair today, or even had such keen insight as to apply a hint of make-up. Almost. But then I looked over at my sister, who was fondly caressing a package of hot-cross buns, announcing to no one in particular how she could taste them going down her throat, and I realized that who needs a beautiful guy in a sky-blue shirt when you can have THIS? This, of course, equals the only person in the world I would trust to pick out apples for me at the grocery store. And only because I have taught her well.

It's been so great being home. As I had to ask for help finding the pasta aisle in the grocery store, I realized how long it had been. It's the small things, of course - things that I could only have found in London or in Columbia if I had 'napped a herd of wild flamingo. My mom and I were taking a walk down our lane last night - the weather was SO beautiful - when we heard a roar of engines from behind us. Obviously, it was the six-year-old on the four-wheeler and the eight-year-old in the go-cart. Racing. They pull up next to us, the motors so loud that Mom and I can't hear ourselves think, let alone talk. "See that raccoon up there?" Lexie says, pointing to a pile of fur in the field. "It smells." As we continued walking, coming up closer and closer to the animal, we found that it did indeed smell. "It smells a lot worse now that I've run over it a couple of times," she said matter-of-factly.

Mom told the girls to go home because they were being annoying, and the girls promptly rode into the field, where they proceded to run into each other on their vehicles. This was followed by a torrent of accusations - "She hit me!" "No, she hit ME!" How do you know, when they run into each other head-on?

I love how some parents won't even let their children open the pantry by themselves. I'm trying to think of things my sisters aren't allowed to do, which is easy because my parents have lots of rules - however, the girls just don't follow them. And I think my parents are too tired to deal with them anymore. My dad has been a parent for 36 years and my mom has given birth to seven children. It's just so much easier to laugh. Besides, my mom tells me nearly every day that when Lexie hits teenagedom, she's moving in with me. My mom moving in with me, or Lexie moving in with me, I haven't quite figured out which. But oh my God, will Lexie be a terror teen.

Speaking of Lexie, she acquired a new best friend while I was in London. Her old best friend was Jillian who lives down the road in a house with an indoor pool. Lexie was obsessed with Jillian. She would call her every day, several times a day. She had a birthday party with a bunch of kids - but she only talked to Jillian. But I guess Jillian and Lexie were in different classes last year, and that sort of pulled them apart. That, or the fact that Jillian got a restraining order on Lexie. Both are equally possible. Anyway, no worries because Lexie has a new best friend. Her name is Hannah, and she is nine. Can I ask - how many six-year-olds have a nine-year-old best friend? And in case you think it's a power struggle, let me brush that theory aside quickly. There is no fight over who wears the pants in this relationship. It is so clearly Lexie.

The ten coolest women ever

I really need to do laundry. Actually I need to buy more clothes. I know that sounds incredibly lazy, but I do need some. I lost probably 20 pieces of clothing after Lufthansa/American Airlines/AIR INDIA stole my luggage. That was almost three months ago. I just don't want to buy anything. Well, maybe I just don't want to buy anything in America. I don't think I would have a problem going on a shopping spree at TopShop. I hope I don't have to go to school naked tomorrow. Speaking of - you know when you're walking down the sidewalk and you feel like someone is giving you a weird look? My immediate reaction is - OMG, I hope I remembered pants this morning! And then I kind of subtlely glide my hand down to my leg and feel the reassuring jean material. Does anyone else do this? I mean, I've forgotten to put my contacts in, I've forgotten my book bag, I've forgotten my lunch - I just feel like a vital piece of clothing is next on the list.

I have been very interested lately in amassing a list of female role models. I think it's important for every girl to have people to emulate. And I can't just pick one person as my model citizen because then I would be merely morphing into them and not taking myself in account. But this way, I can take all of the good parts from each person, whirl them around and end up fabulously me at the same time.

My list, so far, in no particular order --
1. Princess Diana - I love the way she always looked so shy and sweet. I think she was very intuitive, and I think she loved her children. Plus, she was a princess.
2. Grace Kelly - My pick for the most beautiful woman of all time. She was the classic girl next door, Catholic and exquisitely gorgeous. Plus, she was a princess.
3. Jackie Kennedy - the poise. the elegance. the husband. the FASHION STATEMENT. And she was as close to American royalty as you're going to get.
4. Mother Teresa - Saintly? Yes, please. I love kids, and I admire the work she did at the orphanages as well as the work she did with the sick and dying in the slums.
5. Condoleezza Rice - She is brilliant and an accomplished pianist. She is conservative and is one of the highest-ranking women in government. And she's a powerful single woman.
6. & 7. Two of my journalism professors, Stephanie Craft and Sandy Davidson. Stephanie has her Ph.D. from Stanford, and she's a powerful, brilliant single woman. Sandy has her J.D., as well as degrees in philosophy and music. She's hilarious and insane - and she's a brilliant single woman with a big dog.
8. Ann Coulter - *cowers* I like her gutsiness. And she's conservative!
9. Valerie Plame - OMG, she's a spy! And she's beautiful.
10. You can't just have a top 9 list. But I can't think of anyone else ...

Plus my mom and grandmothers, etc (obviously). But these are my non-familial picks.

I mentioned a few weeks ago that I thought I had decided to stay here for grad school. I think I've changed my mind. I was telling a Chinese grad student about my plan, and she told me it was stupid. I love blunt honesty. She said that I need to go somewhere else, major in something else and get a different perspective. I thought about it and realized she was right. But OOOOH NOOOO. This means I really have to make decisions for my life, and I can't just stay where I'm comfortable. What to do? Where to go? I was talking to my mom about this, and she agreed with my assessment and said, - brace yourself - "I think you should study abroad." And I was like, "Oh yeah? Another semester away?" And she said, "No. I mean, I think you should go to grad school overseas." This is how exposure to Europe can CHANGE YOUR LIFE!! I cannot imagine my mother saying this to me before. I need to research international schools. If I go that route, I want to focus on international relations. If I stay in the U.S., I want to move to the east coast and study some field of political science, or go to Notre Dame, or Michigan State, or the equivalent, and get my law degree. SCARY. But I'm excited! I just need to get my act together and take the GRE and/or LSAT.

I get to sleep in tomorrow before my 11 a.m. exam - and then I'm done for spring break! I work Saturday, Sunday and Monday, and then I come home. I wish I could surprise my family by driving home straight after my shift, but I won't get off until midnight, and I'm pretty sure I would be so tired that I would drive directly off the narrowest two lane bridge in the world and plunge into the Mississippi River. And I know my sister could use my car.

Rain Woes

Disclosure: This is not the umbrella to which I will be referring. I just included this as a verfication of London's wet conditions. P.S. Check out the picture's file name. P.P.S. My smile is so fake.

Since fleeing rainy London, I have decided that umbrellas are no longer necessary. I think the reason for this is, in part, because I'm bitter. I had the cutest umbrella in London - black and white polka dotted and ruffled, with a J-shaped handle. I learned, within my first two soakings, to carry my umbrella everywhere with me. It doesn't matter what weather.com said, or The London Paper, or even if there wasn't a cloud in the sky. If you went outside without your umbrella, God would punish you.

I broke that umbrella in Wimbledon. It wasn't even raining that hard, but I was on my way to the photo shoot and I thought to myself, maybe I should be civilized. Maybe I should keep my hair from turning into a natty frizzball. Maybe I should stop the laziness and pull my umbrella out of my oversized purse. So I did, and promptly 5 seconds later, a gust of wind came and turned my umbrella inside out. That's not at all a new phenomenon, and it had happened roughly 11 times in the past, almost all of those on a pier in Ireland. But this time the inside outness was accompanied by a snap. My umbrella was gone.

I really miss it. Like I said, it was super cute. I actually found its identical twin at an H&M in St. Louis, but I just couldn't buy it. I paid 7.99 euros for that thing. I have not used an umbrella since my favorite one died in the freak accident.

It hadn't really been a problem, up to this week. The weather forecast said five days of rain. I scoffed. The weather forecaster is never right. Until now. It really has rained every day this week. This morning was the worst. It was POURING. I had left my sweater jacket in the car, right on my passenger seat, right under my partially cracked-open windows. It smelled like mildew.

I drive to school. One of my windshield wipers has a long string of black rubber hanging off it. When I'm stopped at a light, I'll let my eyes follow the rubber swishing back and forth - it makes me a little dizzy. The string of rubber is my fault, too, and it's from the time we had 2 feet of snow, all on top of my car. And I was cold, and lazy, so instead of shoveling off the snow with the scraper I had in my back seat, I opened my door, sat down, cranked up the heat and turned on the windshield wipers to do the dirty work for me. The wipers were not pleased.

I almost decided not to go to school today, but then I was like - what am I, a character from the Wizard of Oz? I'm not going to melt. Well, except for my make-up. I forgot that part. When I finally got to class, with raindrops dripping from my hair, forehead and eyelids, I took one long swipe across my face so that I didn't look like I had just stepped out of the shower. I took off a lot of the water, but I also took off a lot of mascara. And by take off, I mean that I put it somewhere else - like on my face.

I think I might invest in another umbrella after all.

"So is it shorter now?"

I went to Great Clips yesterday to get my hair cut. I did this for a few reasons. 1) Because I hadn't gotten my hair cut since the end of November in London. That's three and a half months without a trim. 2) Because the ends of my hair were so fried that it looked like I systematically lit them on fire. You know you need to do something about the mess on your head when you want to take scissors to it yourself. Or a pair of pliers. And 3) clearly the most important - Great Clips was having a sale. $5.99 for a haircut! When I got my hair did in London, I paid 51 POUNDS - more than $100! Now granted, that's because the Romanian girl talked me in to styling and conditioning products, but my hair needed it!

I had barely walked in the door before I was sat down and the scissors were whipped out. The girl didn't even wet my hair down - I think they only bring out the spray bottle if you pay more than $6 for a haircut. I suppose that makes sense. Good thing I didn't curl it! But she just kind of snipped here and there, and then three minutes and 1.5 inches later, she's like, "Muss it up! Make sure it's straight!" So I kind of gingerly poufed my hair and she's like, NO! REALLY MUSS IT UP! So I threw my hands into my hair and gave it a couple of good shakes, and I was out of there.

I've been squeamish about getting a hair cut since I was six years old and went in for a trim - and my waist-length hair was instantaneously shoulder-length. I think I've written about that before. It was just so jarring. It was like getting a third arm cut off. I WON LONGEST PONYTAIL CONTESTS WITH THAT HAIR, PEOPLE. I should have had it insured. I could have been a childhood millionaire.

Day number two of presentations went swimmingly. We're all a bit scared of our professor, so we begrudgingly decided against showing the Billy Madison clip on business ethics to wake up the class. This is the funny thing about my school - you get a professor, like this one, and after a few classes, you're like, this guy is a tool. If we talk about the state of the media ONE MORE TIME, I'm going to bungee jump off Memorial Union. And then you have half the class, particularly during Friday lectures, who are so hung-over that they think the state of the media is New York. And then one day when you should be preparing for your presentation, you're instead mindlessly surfing the internet and randomly decide to google your professor. That's when you find out that this tool is really a SUPER GENIUS and has redesigned newspapers all over the United States and that people actually PAY MONEY to attend his lectures. It makes you feel very small indeed - or like you should at least keep one eye open during class.

I had my weekly coffee date with the Koreans today. I learned something VERY interesting that I want to share with you! I went against cultural norms today and asked my Korean friends how old they are. Young, who looks 25 tops, is 35. Jenny, who looks 35 (even though I told her 30), is 41. But when I asked them their ages, Jenny said, "I'm 43 in Korea, so ... I'm 41 here." And I looked at her like she was crazy and said, "What?!" And she said, "Yes, I was 2 years old when I was born." And I was like, "WHAT?!" Apparently in Korea, everyone turns a year older on New Years Day. And they also count your first year as when you are conceived. So, for example, if you were conceived in November, you're one then, and then as soon as it hits January 1, you turn 2. So then when you're born in August, you're already 2 years old. SO STRANGE. I love learning about new cultures. They also showed me Korean characters, and I was fascinated. How can you write and read in pictures?

As I was waltzing through Super Wal-Mart last night, I was talking on the phone to my sister Amy, who provided me with one of her memorable blond statements. It made me realize how long I've been away from home because I don't remember the last one - and it's not like she's stopped blurting out stupid things since I've left, obviously. I told her about my haircut and how I was so excited that it was so cheap and she's like, "Awesome! So is it shorter now?"

.....................

I said, "No, Ames! It's longer." And she said, really?!! And I burst out laughing, scaring several Wal-Mart customers, thinking that she must be kidding - but she wasn't. When I explained it to her, she said, "Oh... I thought maybe she cut in it a way that made it LOOK longer..." And I said, "What?!" And that's when she burst out laughing, too. She's ridiculous. I love her.

Midterms haven't killed me yet..

Midterms have hit with a vengeance.

I have gone to the library more this past week than I have in the first 2.5 years of undergrad combined. I'd always heard great things about the library - like how it helps you to focus and that you get things done a lot faster without all of the distractions - and who knew? It was all true. I polished off my six-page sociology paper in two and a half hours last night. Granted, I was using the keyboard as a pillow by the time I typed in the last sentence, but I got it done. And hopefully the 11 paragraphs were written eloquently enough to mask the resounding urge I had to write I DON'T EFFING CARE. It's especially bad being in a capstone class with graduating seniors.

Speaking of which, my capstone group had a presentation on Monday on ethics in journalism and our discussion will continue tomorrow. I spent both Saturday and Sunday with the guys in my group and came back to the library on Sunday night to tweak my portion of the presentation. I ran into Nick, one of the guys in my group there, and we finalized some of the slides. I left the library before 12, got home and had just crawled into bed and laid my head on the pillow when my phone rang. I rest my cell phone on the corkboard-like box springs at the end of my bed, and the ringing and vibrating of my phone on that surface is very startling. Nick was on the phone, telling me that I had forgotten to send him pictures for my slides. "I sent them to you a couple of hours ago, Nick," I said, patiently. "Check your e-mail." He's like, "Okay, let me look." He looked and he found them. We hung up, and I drifted off to sleep. I could just see Mark Ruffalo entering the haze of my dream for the second consecutive night when my phone rang again. I yanked off my sleep mask and squinted at the clock. It was 1:37 a.m. "Hewllawo?" I garbled. "Hey, what's up!" Nick. "Not too much, Nick... just um... err.. sleeping!" "Oh, you're sleeping? I'm sorry!" That's when I noticed that his voice sounded weird, and he was whispering. "Nick... are you still in the library?" I asked. "Yeah," he said. "I haven't done my case study yet, and I'm really tired, and I just don't know what to do..." And I was like, "NICK! GO HOME!"

Good thing we just had our presentation at 9 a.m. that morning!! But I think it went really well. We decided to dress up and we looked really snazzy, and our professor said we did a really good job at the end. I hope tomorrow goes just as well. We had a 2.5 hour group powwow at the Heidelberg tonight and managed to tear apart our case studies over a couple of pitchers of beer. I was really hesitant about working with three guys because boys are notoriously lazy, but we've had a lot of fun doing this and they definitely did NOT slack off like I was expecting. Way to overcome stereotypes, boys.

I'm not sure how much of my spring break I'm going home for. I signed up to work 5 extra copy desk shifts (8 hours each), with a 1 percentage point raise in my grade per shift. I think that might be a bit of an overkill, especially since I think I did very well on my midterm and I do fine on the copy desk. I just feel like I need to make up for my dismal quiz scores. Why are you sucking up your editing quizzes, Ashley? That's a great question, and let me tell you why they're destroying me. Our quizzes cover the entire week of news. Anything in the Missourian - news and sports - are fair game. We pick two letters from the AP stylebook and anything under those letters are fair game, too. We have to correct sentences. Let me give you a few examples --

According to a deal between the MU and KU athletics departments, where will the two teams play their annual matchup game in 2007 and 2008?
I answered Kansas City. Which is the city where the two teams will play - BUT NOT THE STADIUM. The correct answer is Arrowhead Stadium. WRONG.

The assets of a Columbia-based agency were frozen in 2004 as it was suspected of providing financial support to a group that provides funds to terrorists. On Tuesday, a federal appeals court upheld the freeze on the assets. Name the Columbia group involved in this case.
I answered the Islamic Relief Nonprofit Organization. The correct answer was the Islamic American Relief Agency. WRONG!

Kudos go to Kris Kringle for using kleenex.
The correct answer is 'Kudos GOES to KRISS Kringle for using KLEENEX (capital K), or tissues.' I actually got that one right.

This is why I am so anal in case you were wondering. I have nightmares about false ranges and because of/due to, thanks to Maggie and copy editing.

I need to stop pretending I mind. I really love it.

That's all. Is anyone else LOVING SPRING?!!! 77 degrees today!

Don't read this on a weak stomach

So today was arguably the most painful day of my life.

I woke up this morning and felt a little nauseated - which I occasionally do in the morning, so it wasn't that weird. Then my stomach rumbled, so I was like - oh! I must be hungry. Although if I really would have paid attention to myself, I would have realized that it wasn't THAT KIND of rumbling - but I was too tired to process that. So I go downstairs and pour myself a bowl of Honey Nut Shredded Wheat with a generous pool of milk, since I'm almost to the bottom of my carton and I wanted to get rid of it. I took one bite. Eeesh. Not good. I took two more bites, this time scooping up less milk. Not much better. I carried my cereal upstairs and placed it on the floor so that I could go through my morning online ritual. I kept trying to eat because I knew by the time I would be able to eat lunch - after 2 p.m. - I would be starving.

But that dang feeling of nausea wouldn't go away, and it usually does after I start eating breakfast. And then - well - all of my internal organs tried jumping out of my body. Among other things. I have never been so sick in my entire life. My face turned blanch white and my lips turned bright red - the lips thing was cool - and I finally understood the meaning of clamminess. I wasn't crying but I had tears running down my face. SO. PAINFUL.

So I laid around all day - I think this was the first legitimate sick day of my life. I kept wanting to go to class (seriously!), but I know no one else would have wanted me and my barf bucket there. The worst moment was around 10:30 a.m. - I thought Katie would come home to find me dead. Actually, at various points today, I was hoping that I would just die and get it over with.

But I'm better now. Katie brought me home 7-Up and Saltines (she is an ANGEL!) and my London internship mailed me several copies of the February issue (with my article!) and our fashion supplement, so I can see the beauty that is Holly and Lianna and Cliff and Thea. The pictures are SO gorgeous, and I'm marked down as a photo shoot assistant. So amazing. See both covers here: http://www.retail-jeweller.com.

My mom has called me four times today. She became immediately convinced that I was food poisoned, after I told her that I went to Chipotle last night for dinner. She is the food safety queen after all. So she hung up with me, called the restaurant, who then called ME - with an obviously uncomfortable and somewhat-hot sounding manager asking me to describe - quickly - my symptoms. After that humiliating encounter, my mom called back and told me that if I was still feeling ill tomorrow, I needed to RUSH IMMEDIATELY TO THE NEAREST HOSPITAL and get set up with some IVs because I WAS LOSING VITAL FLUIDS. Oh, God. I hope it doesn't come to that.

So the moral of the story is, If you fake too many sick days in your lifetime, one day it will all come back to bite you. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in the next year, but within 10-15 years of your life, you will be telling a Chipotle manager the circumference of the chunks you blew that morning. A word to the wise.

The kiss of death - I am a cow.

There's nothing better than a big package!

Oooh. That was awkward. But I was very excited to come home today to a UPS box addressed from home. My mom had wanted to do something nice for me, so she baked me cookies. Four dozen of them actually (not exaggerating). It was really sweet of her, even though I told her in advance that I wouldn't eat them. Not to be mean, but I just wouldn't - I eat approximately two cookies each year. It's perfect timing, though, because Maddie's been having a rough couple of days and she LOVES cookies. She will be even more obsessed with my mom now.

My mom has a few dreams for her kids - she wants us to be happy, and healthy, and holy. Typical mom dreams. But she also wants us to be fat. After I picked her up at Heathrow Airport and we were riding back together on the tube, my mom squeezed my arm and smiled and said, "I was so worried that I would come here and you would be a stick! But you look perfect." Oh, God, I thought. The kiss of death - I am a cow. And true enough, when I got back to America and stepped on the scale, I had gained 15 pounds. My mom never fails me.

She's also very concerned with me adapting the vegetarian lifestyle. It's been more than two months since I last had meat (I still eat fish), and I love it. My mother, on the other hand, is convinced that vegetarianism will kill me. Every time I come home, she urges me to take prenatal vitamins "because they're so good for you!" Thanks, Mom, but I'm not planning to get pregnant. She is more concerned about the lack of folic acid in my diet than she is of guns or drugs or Barack Obama becoming president. Besides deploring my vegetarianism, she also refuses to accept it. Scott came to visit last week, laden with a grocery bag full of canned goods. While I felt a little like a homeless pantry, I thought it was nice of my mom to think of me - until I opened the bag. "Chunky chicken noodle soup," "beef and vegetable stew," "grilled chicken and sausage gumbo" - HONESTLY, MOTHER. Excuse me while I go outside and slay a grizzly bear for dinner.

Enough about that.

I've started working for the women's center on campus once a week. Since I studied abroad, I am now considered "international," aka Very Important. I sit down with two Korean women every Thursday for an hour or so, and we talk so that they can improve and practice their English. I knew I would like them even before I met them in person. I e-mailed one of them - Young - to tell her what I looked like so she knew what to look out for - long blond hair, black coat and blue jeans. She e-mailed me back with a description of her own - black hair, oval eyes and 'I look like Asian person.' Precious. They are both so cute. Young's husband is working toward his doctorate in economics and Jenny's husband is working toward his master's degree in something equally as important. They each have two kids who learn English at school, but Jenny and Young are home all day and don't have that opportunity. They say that Korean schools stress English grammar but not spoken English, which is much harder.

I asked Jenny what she was doing this weekend and she replied that her son was going to learn how to ride his bike to school. "Oh, that's cool!" I said. "Yes, it's very good," Jenny answered. "He needs it. He's fat." Young was like, "He's not fat!" And Jenny said, "Next time you come over, I lift up his stomach for you." I would estimate that I spend about 65% of our time together laughing. Next week they're going to take me to a restaurant for our session so that we can order hash brown casserole, Jenny's favorite.

I hope you're all having a good week! You don't need a blog to leave me a message (HINT HINT).