Mistaken identity

I meet with Laura, my boss at the advertising agency, tomorrow to work out my schedule. I meet with Diane, my boss at ALA (aka TB history) next Tuesday. I accepted, so this is my first summer with a "real" job. Maybe I'll be so impressive at the advertising agency that they'll pay for more than downtown parking, too.

My family is going to Arkansas this weekend to stay with one of my mom's good friends and former business instructor. That would be Mom, Dad, Kevin, Lyndsey and Lexie. Basically, with only four kids left in the house, I'm going to feel like an only child. I'm not sure what I'll do with myself. Maybe I'll lay out if it's nice. Even on the beautiful days, I have SUCH A HARD TIME just going out to the pool and laying down. I just need to move around. I can control myself when a friend's over, but not when I'm by myself. I'm sure the gusting wind doesn't help me stay in place either. There were upwards of 25 mph gusts today, and we live on a hill. You can't even walk outside without careening sharply to whichever way the wind is blowing.

I just finished a book my friend Erin loaned me for the summer. It's called "The Bell Jar" by Sylvia Plath. The heroine of the story, Esther Greenwood, slowly goes insane, and then tries, on several occasions, to commit suicide. This closely mirrors the author's life, except that she actually succeeded in killing herself at age 31. It's scary because you can see the psychotism (invented?) building. I always worry that I have that button in my head, too, and I'm afraid it will be pressed. I think I tend to overreact to sensitive situations - be it mine or other people's - but still. I feel like I understand the intricacies of mental illness more than I would like to.

I'm slowly easing my way into the summer routine. I think it will be better when my schedule is structured by the two jobs. I'm really excited about starting up school again in the fall. I think it will be so great to be a TA, and I'm so excited I was picked. Of course, hopefully by then I will have cemented my post-graduate study plans. I've been thinking law school for a few months now, and that seems to have stuck. Right now, I'm thinking a divorce attorney or a sexual harassment/abuse attorney. Sooo random, but I think it would be very rewarding to help people get their lives back in order. We'll see. It's fun (right now) to have so many options.

I went up the office yesterday afternoon to see if my dad needed any help. I was up there for two minutes before I was like, "Geez, Dad, how do you stand this? It's boiling in here!" And he said, idly, "Oh, is it? I hadn't really noticed. I'll open the windows again. Amy was mowing the yard, and I couldn't hear the phones over the noise." I stared at him, gaped mouth. "Are you kidding me?" He said, "No! I didn't even know she knew how to mow on the zero-turn. I looked out the window and saw her zipping around the trees." I was like, "Dad, I can't tell if you're messing with me or not." And he said, "No, she really was!" I lifted up my tanktop a little bit so that he could see the bits of grass still stuck to my black shorts. "THAT WAS ME."

I can't even get credit for my slave labor. I kid. I adore mowing the yard. It's a little unnerving how Amy and I are (quickly) morphing into the same person.

Kevin got a $425 check in the mail today. He won a full scholarship for art camp this summer. He actually had a butterfly painting displayed at a gallery in St. Louis last year. I did make fun of him for the butterflies, of course. I now call him Boy Genius.

We have 13 new baby kittens. Yes, that's THIRTEEN. Addison has one, a black fluffy named Midnight (also Bubbles, RIP). Fuzzy has six - two grey, two black, two white. So cute, but annoyingly squeaky. Then there are two more sets down at the barn, two blacks and one white in each. I really enjoy going out to play with them. I'm starting to understand my little sisters a bit more, too, because I find that whenever I get frustrated now, I make a hissing noise. Amy pointed this out to me. It should bother me, but to be honest, I kind of like it.

"That lady said 'Excuse me,' so I squeezed in my buttcheeks." -- Amy

Is it August yet?

No, no, no. It hasn't been that bad - just hectic. Maddie came home with me Sunday. We weren't sure if she would be able to because it looked like she was going to regionals. As of early Saturday afternoon, she was in 12th place in the D1 Central Regionals. As of late into my Saturday night shift on the copy desk, however, she was holding her own in last place for being disqualified. She told me later that she was on the 13th hole, picked up her ball and then realized it wasn't hers. It had been almost identical to her ball - brand, special markings, purple circles, and all, but it had a couple of extra lines on it. Immediate DQ.

That's OK because she made up for it when she played my dad on Monday. We went to a golf course in town that sponsors an annual LPGA tournament. Fittingly, Annika Sorenstam, a fellow Swede, won last year's. Maddie outshot my dad by 12 strokes on a course he's been playing for nearly 30 years. I was in charge of keeping score. Maddie did everything else, including driving the golf cart. She also kept me giggling as she told me exactly what my dad was going to do on each stroke. "He's going to pull left on this one," she confided. "A common mistake." Sure enough! I even got a few shots in myself. Maddie placed a ball four feet from the hole, and I managed to get a par! I think I'm a natural.

We had a lot of fun, going out to eat at Darcy's, swimming in the pool with the kidlets, playing with our 13 new baby kittens, watching Simon Burch downstairs on the projecter screen while stuffing our faces with popcorn and pretzels. Lexie took Maddie and me down to the barn, where she proceeded to chuck large rocks at the chickens, causing a large raucous. Don't worry - I dragged her out by her arm before the roosters could peck her eyes out.

I had an interview today for a research project on the history of tuberculosis in Illinois, from 1900 to present. Apparently there are 200 cases a year here; I didn't realize it even existed. To be honest, all I know is that it's a bacteria because that's what the woman told me. I think I'm going to accept because I could work with Carly. And make a couple of thousand bucks. And work with Carly!

Speaking of Carly, I'm driving to Chicago to pick her up from O'Hare tomorrow. I haven't seen her in four-and-a-half months. Good thing I'm kind of used to this by now, since I'll be playing the 'traded in for a Filipino Spaniard' game again next semester. I can't say I blame her, though - foreign tongues are hot.

My sister's glasses are hot, too, and that's why I'm wearing them. Same prescription, same brain, same cynical sarcasm - is it possible to have two soulmates? Actually, I think I have at least a handful. Too bad none of them are boys.

Warning: Picture of foot enclosed.

So using Carly's style of accurately estimating percentages, I am 134.2389% positive that I just broke my right foot. OWWWWWWWWW.

I was in the shower, and I had just extracted a handful of conditioner. I placed the bottle of conditioner back on the rack, and I proceeded to work the goop through my hair. WHEN ALL OF A SUDDEN, completely out of nowhere, the bottle of conditioner jumps from the rack and stabs itself into my foot. Twice.

Now, granted, this wasn't a normal bottle of conditioner. It was unusually large because I like them that way, and because I go through them more quickly than the average person. Also, I think I had been overzealous in my squeezing because the suspect bottle of conditioner was so tightly wound that the front and back almost touched in the middle of the bottle and all of the conditioner was engorged on the sides. If you can imagine.

And just because I am often accused of embellishing my stories to make them sound cooler, I have enclosed a picture. Doesn't it look like the marks of Christ?



My foot apologizes for not being properly done up. My toenail polish is a mess because I didn't realize that today would be a photo op.

Also, you may be able to see a bruise on the left side of my foot, a little below the stigmata. That's from yesterday. Yes, this has happened before.

P.S. If anyone dares to make fun of my long toes, I will never speak to you again.
P.P.S. The second picture is 10 hours post-incident.

Ne'er were truer words spoken ...

The first sentence in an e-mail from my journalism professor when informing me of my standing in his class (and remarking on my final 12-page paper) --

"I have to say you are one of the more unusual subjects."

I'm not sure what this means exactly, but I have no doubt it's true.

P.S. I got an A in the class. Yay!

Slacker Award!

Hello friends. I know it's been awhile since I last updated, but I had to wait a certain amount of time before I could be secured of the Slacker Award. I'm pretty sure I won it now, so I'll let you know when that arrives with ribbons and bows at my house.

Life has been insane. I can't really tell you where the last few weeks have gone - or really what I've been doing - because I don't quite remember. All I can say is that I'm pretty sure that I haven't been doing any schoolwork because I still have a ridiculous amount left. Like that ten-page paper due next Wednesday. Noooo.

An update - I am slowly finalizing my plans for the summer. I will be interning at an advertising agency in Springfield, directly across the street from the Old State Capitol and down the road from the new presidential library. My "office" has a huge bay window, and I surely will be entertained by the dozens and dozens of disappointed tourists who file past each day. My boss is super cute and bubbly, and everyone in the company is young and fun. I'll be doing a lot of copy editing and copy writing, as well as writing press releases and giving input on design work. I also may help with planning events and finding/dressing models for ads. And I may even get paid for it! But probably not. One semester till that degree!

It's also likely that I'll be waitressing at a fondue restaurant with a friend of mine. But that plan is underwraps, so I'll update more later. Tehehe.

As for the fall semester, I will be taking 13 hours and 3 classes - Advanced Editing and Design (designing the newspaper) and Introductory French and German. I was also hired to be an Editing T.A., so next semester, I'll pretty much just need to pay my rent to the Missourian, since I will be living there. I get to work between 1 and 39 hours a week, making minimum wage and further worsening my eyesight. I can't wait!

My mom and dad had me edit the book for their company a couple of weeks ago. It took me almost a week to go through all 150 pages of that dang thing, plus a good chunk of the life out of my favorite purple marking pen. But I finished and I happily shipped it off - selecting media mail as my postage of choice because it was the cheapest. My parents said they needed it soon, but ground was to take 2 days and media mail 2-3, so if I could cut the price in half by sending it that way, why not, right? Except for the part where it's been almost a week and it hasn't arrived. My father is frantic. Apparently they're running low on books and need to put in a new order, so all they're waiting for are my edits. I got to hear his spiel about how the US Postal Service cannot be trusted and how I SHOULD ALWAYS send UPS or FedEx. I'm sure this will affect me the same way as did other things my parents have told me - like "only wear bright colors so you don't look so washed out" (Mom) or "pull your hair back so your face doesn't look so thin" (Mom) or "don't drink Diet Pepsi because it stunts your growth" (Mom) or "don't pluck your eyebrows because then they'll come back in black and you'll look like a wildebeast" (Mom). All Mom. I guess it's time for my dad to impart some of his wisdom on my life, too.

(By the way, today I'm wearing black; my hair is straight down; I had a Diet Pepsi for breakfast; and I'm carelessly pulling at my eyebrows between typing, as per my usual nervous habit.)

But I guess I will use UPS and FedEx from now on.

And there go all four of my readers ...

I write this with much consternation. I have a feeling I may lose at least two of the four people who read this blog, so that's quite unfortunate. But may the truth set you free.

I was driving to the library tonight while on the phone with my mom. She was giving me the scoop from the last week. As I mentioned in the photo essay, we are the proud parents of two new kittens, Bubbles and NoName.

Sadly, Bubbles, the white boy kitten, has died.

We're not sure how, but someone left the garage door open one night when it was pretty chilly, and when the girls went out to check on the kittens the next morning, Bubbles was dead.

Death is not new to us, or to our pets. I had my first brush with the nether world when I was in third grade and my cat Kelly got hit by a driver who didn't know how to parallel park. Since then, we've had many deaths by car accidents, two deaths by heat stroke and one death by being eaten alive. Sorry, but we have!

My mom was telling me how Lexie had been carrying Bubbles like he was a baby, rocking him and cooing to him, bouncing him up and down, making his little mouth drop open a little bit. And I smiled and awwed to myself because I love hearing stories about Lexie being sweet (possibly because they're so few and far between). And if anything, I reasoned, Bubbles had been loved to death, and what a way to go, right?

These thoughts were interrupted as my mom continued, wondering aloud how she ended up with a child who had such a need for attention and such a sick sense of humor. "I don't encourage her," my mom lamented. "I tell her to take it outside, and I don't laugh at her."

"Excuse me?" I asked, feeling like I had missed something.

I had indeed missed something. These loving acts of snuggling with the kitten, waving its droopy paw at everyone in the family who passed by, shoving the hapless Bubbles in my anxiety-ridden sister Julie's face - they were all a ruse.

Lexie was doing all of these things AFTER THE KITTEN HAD DIED.

After the kitten had died, but before rigor mortis had set in, apparently.

This is worse than the time last fall when another kitten died - I can't remember which one, or the cause of death for that matter - and Lexie's best friend Hannah's mom (following?) decided the poor kitten needed a proper burial. She came by the house to pick up the kitten, but before she left, decided to step in and say hi. Amy was the only one home, so she stood in the doorway, trying not to die, as Hannah's mom chatted amiably, HOLDING A ZIPLOCK BAGGIE WITH THE KITTEN INSIDE OF IT.

These are the things that give you nightmares, and my house is full of them.

Photo Essay: Spring Break

This is a tree in front of our house. It was blooming and gorgeous when I got home on Tuesday. By Sunday when I left, a ton of the flowers were needlessly swept away by the hurricane-style winds. Listen, if we can't have crystal clear water and palm trees, we shouldn't get the wind either. Life is unfair enough.


Our house sits on a hill in the countryside, and this is the view you see to the left, facing the house. My dog likes to swim in the pond. So does Lexie. Just kidding. We told her sharks live in there.


My family is obsessed with cats, as evidenced by their large quantities at our house. I may have been exaggerating when I said we had 26, but it's hard to get exact numbers when you get three strays one day and then one dies in a horrible car accident the next. We are like the foster cat capitol of the world. And somehow they're all beautiful. I think we discriminate a little. From left to right, McKinley (not after the President, but I'm not sure how he got his name), Graycen (donning the stylish purple flea collar) and Piper (new edition and my new fave).


This is Addison. While I was away eating crumpets in London, my sister Lexie announced to the family that Addison was pregnant. My parents looked at the cat and then looked at each other. There was no visible outward sign. But sure enough, several months later, the cat had exploded. HOW DID SHE KNOW? My mom thinks Lexie will grow up to be a vet. I think she will grow up to be a witch doctor.


This is my 10-year-old brother Kevin, also known as the most amazing kid to walk the planet. He is the sweetest thing I know, PLUS he gave himself this equally sweet European hairstyle! He is so stylish. And adorable. As a funny side note, Lexie, Lyndsey and Kevin used to be 10 lbs. apart. Lexie weighed 45, Lyndsey, 55, and Kevin, 65. Now, about a year later, Lexie weighs 55, Lyndsey, 65, and Kevin, 102. He is so chunky and SO CUTE that I just want to squeeze him all day long. Scott was the same way when he was Kevin's age. He suddenly got really pudgy and then shot up - to 6 foot 3. I don't want to lose my baby brother, but I'm pretty sure Kevin will end up even taller than Scott. By the way, the side view looks like he has a mullet. It's a muted object in the background. Good sisters don't let their brothers have mullets.


And this is Cindy Lou-Who. I mean, Lyndsey. I didn't take this picture, which I hope you can tell by the quality. She stole my camera and decided to take pictures of herself. There were pictures of her pretend-sleeping, roughly 15 shots of the television screen and several pictures of her looking like she had just seen the ghost of ten cats past doing a baton twirl on the ceiling. I thought this picture best captured her delicate blond nose hairs. And the Christmas hairbow? I'm sad to say she must have stolen it from my closet. I'm sure my mom had me wearing it up until I was 13.


And this is Lexie in all of her glory. I hope her face freezes like that.


As I mentioned, Addison the cat is pregnant. Lexie decides when a cat will give birth by the pattern of the moon. She was almost positive she would be getting kitties that night, so she was working on her name list. I told you she was my mini-me! Her top name choice? Bubbles. So she needs a little work. Incidentally, Lexie was a couple of days off, but she now has her kittens. My mom and Amy arrived home yesterday to find Lexie peering over the new kittens in their cardboard box. "This one's a boy," Lexie said proudly, pointing to the white kitten. "How do you know?" Amy asked. ".... I just know," Lexie replied, cryptically. Mom and Amy were silent. Lexie continued: "It just lifted up its legs, okay?" I didn't realize newborn kittens were able to do the splits - upside down.


And this is my other mini-me. This was the night that we went to the video store - as evidenced by her cute outfit. You'll see mine in a second. I thought she was wearing an old pair of my capris at first - it turns out that they're her pajama pants. "You had capris that looked like this?" she asked, incredulously. "SICK."


I found her like this in the sunroom, right before Amy and I went downstairs to watch When Harry Met Sally. The lights were off, the TV was off. It's like she just up and collapsed on the floor. Also making a cameo are Kevin's dirty socks.


Me sweeping the mini-me off her feet. Props to Amy for the artsy sideways shot.


My favorite picture ever. Lexie was sitting at the kitchen table, munching on her chocolate-covered long john with sprinkles, her chocolate milk sitting undisturbed on the table. I called her name and pressed the button on my camera. And as she turned to look at me, the picture snapped.