on lakes in my kitchen...

hmmmmm, is that what kitchen islands are for? I just realized I left a central part of the story out. The main reason for a small lake in the kitchen was the fact that the kitchen sink drains veeeery slowly. So slowly in fact, that while i was upstairs, the sink filled and became a small dam, with water flowing merrily over the counter top, and pooling rapidly on the floor. It was a domestic Niagara Falls, except the real one is alot prettier... and more enjoyable to look at. However, I think you get just about as wet. Of course, that wasn't enough of a crisis; the broken hose was also spraying water in all directions, and getting the living room floor wet as well.

But here's one good thing; even though none of our towels are clean (or dry) anymore, the fish tank is crystal clear. And I was forced to mop, so the floor is clean, too. Which is a good thing. However, glad as I am that the floor is clean, I could have done without the excitement. However, I'm glad that it was the sink that wouldn't drain and not, say, the toilet... But then again, it IS a Friday; that would have to happen on a Monday.

the rest of my life...

I guess its impossible for me to not talk. I went over to Dee's house the other day, and her goofy room mate Mike was there as well playing a game (on Nintendo) called "Bad Fur Day". Sound wierd? It is... they have psychotic squirrles being attacked by just as psychotic and rather violent, gun toting teddy bears. And I thought the things were cuddly. And when you shoot 'em, fluff explodes everywhere. But then again, its not any wierder than my life right now.

But here's a couple of laughs. I went with Becky to take her puppy to dog training classes at the strip mall, which was fun, Sierra was sooo cute. Well, after the dog training classes, I happened to notice a huge sign on the night club next door which said "THURSDAY!!! Wet T-Shirt Contest!!!" Hold this thought...

I then went to pick Dee up from work at this little restaruant, and that night, she'd had to wash dishes; in the course of washing dishes, she'd accidentally splashed a huge pot in the water, and had gotten the whole front of her shirt wet.

So when Dee get's home, Mike is already there, and he asks her why her shirt is all wet. I could not help it, and I said ,"Oh, Gecko's had a wet t-shirt contest, we just got back." He stared at both of us in suprised shock and then said, "Oh, no, no, no!! She just got done with work!! I know better. HA!"

And I said, "Yeah, at 9p.m. she got done with work, and I picked her up; she didn't take the bus home." He stares at us for awhile and then asks me if I was in the contest too.

"Nope, I was wearing a sweater, they wouldn't let me," I said.

Dee cannot hold back any longer and bursts out laughing. He looks at both of us with disgust and stalks off. "I knew you were joking!!!" He calls, over his shoulder.

***

This morning I talked to Nick and missed my Psych class, which Becky told me was a boring waste of an hour anyway. So my time was well spent, although Nick gave me a lecture about skipping class and ruining my grades. I've got an A... well okay an A -, in the class that the teacher told me I wouldn't be able to get an A, because the expectations were so high. I think I can skip one class.

Yesterday her rant was on how harmful it was for children to believe in the "myth" of Heaven as an actual place, and how beliefs in places that weren't real was something that most children grow out of. She said that teaching children about Heaven, and the concept of reuniting with loved ones in such a place was harmful, because children would try to commit suicide to be with a dead loved one if they actually thought they would see them again some day after THEY died... Yes, That's exactly what I wanted to do when my Gran died. I wanted to buy the biggest glock and blow my brains out. <---- (insert sarcasm here, in case you are wondering if I'm serious) What is wrong with people??? Isn't that discrimination? Can you sit there and undermine someone's faith like that? Being the push-over that I am, I didn't say anything, because I didn't feel like being made an idiot of in front of the whole class. She laughed at the last guy who spoke out. I really hate this class.

Aside from that, I made another small lake in the kitchen and dining room because the hose nozzle broke when I tried to change the water in the fishtank. Now, there are about 20 sopping towels on the line, which means laundry is a must now, but hey... the floor got cleaned. :P

well...

I really don't know what's going on right now, but its not fair to Nick to sit and blab about all we're talking about. Guess we got alot of things to think about though, but nothing is definate yet.

Anyway, if nothing new is posted on here, I'm fine, I just don't think I should be writing my feelings at the moment.

So I'll be quiet for awhile.

good morning to you, too

I awoke this a.m. at 4:30 to hear the cat deciding it was time to be fed, and my mother's cheerful morning voice telling him to shut up. The cat didn't like to be ignored, and after she left for work, peed on her slippers. I got to find this nice little gesture of thoughtfulness when I went to take a shower this morning. Why do my parents have such bad luck with pets? Or is the whole house cursed?

Upon discovering that the cat had an empty food dish, I threw some food in a bowl and thought he would be happy, but whatever, he pukes all over the stairs, and makes me late for class.

Which I didn't get anything out of anyway, when I did finally make it. But I did get to retake my test, which will raise my grade. My teacher asked me if I was "that girl who never shows up to class except for test day." Ooops.

As for the other parts of my life, I really have no idea. Don't know about going to England; lol, Nick doubts that I'd be able to afford renting a flat there, if i wanted to have a more substantial diet than saltine crackers every day. But he doesn't think it will work for him to live here (right now). And that it would be impossible to have a long distance relationship for 8 years. But he says we'll work something out. So I'm not going to England, I guess. I'd probably forget I WAS in England, drive on the wrong side of the road, and get myself killed within the first week.

Oh well, at least I have my Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Uh... wait... they don't HAVE Ben and Jerry's in England. Hmmmm... that is NOT good at all. So what ARE the pros, besides being closer to Nick? I'm getting lots of cons... lol, so here's my little list:

PROS:
*Nick
*I can impress people by my tales of living abroad and give them the false
impression that I am cultured...
*fish and chips
*castles
*England needs nurses, a job would be no problem
*Cadbury chocolate... need I say more?
*cool sights to see
*closer to the ocean than I am now
*mountains
*great places to hike
*I can ride his motorcycle... I think
*he has a cool dog
*Nick gets paid to go to school

CONS:
*being away from all my friends
*screwed up time zones
*high expenses
*i would have an enormous phone bill
*i couldn't take my cats with
*there is no such thing as a Chevrolet in the UK
*Everyone drives Fords (ick).
*no Mountain Dew
*no Ben and Jerry's
*I'd have to get rid of my fish
*and I couldn't have a horse
*pick-up trucks aren't cool in the UK
*neither are cowboys
*no rodeos

And I'm going to stop now, as the con's list outweighs the bad, and that wasn't supposed to be the case. :P Which of course, doesn't mean anything; I really don't know what I want to do, because Nick doesn't know. lol. So apparently, for now, both of us are living in the well populated state of Confusion.

chocolate, anyone?

Okay, I feel a tad better. Nick and I had a long talk and clarified some issues. He didn't mean for me to get the impression that he didn't know about us; he just doesn't know when he can come to America now. Or how it will work out, considering the situation.

So, he can come here, and we can live in a crappy apartment and live on macaroni and cheese for 8 years til he gets his degree, or I can move to England and work in the hospital while he finishes school.

While neither is a very attractive option, we still agree that being apart for 8 years is impossible. So it doesn't sound like we'll be apart, whatever happens.

I suppose, if the worst comes to worse, and I go to the land of Poms and driving on the wrong side of the road, I shall keep you informed of my life on my ever informative (and probably too much so) blog.

Heheheh... if the worst comes to worst, we could always live in a van down by the river... the amneties would include free running water, central air, a close view of nature, and free laundry facilities. :P

Okay, neither of us are very happy with this news, but we're gonna figure something out.

Ben and Jerry's aint gonna cut it

Well, I called Nick, and he's staying in England because he doesn't think it makes sense to live in a crappy apartment and work his butt off to get through school for eight years, when he can keep his house and get his tuition paid for in England. And he thinks alot can change in 8 years... And he doesn't know what he wants. As far as us? He doesn't know, but we both agreed that it doesn't make sense to write back and forth, for eight years, esp. since he doesn't know what he wants. Or at least that's what I got out of it. So I don't know what is going on, all I do know is that he won't be moving here for 8 years, and that he doesn't know if its gonna happen AFTER he gets a degree, and that he doesn't know about us.

Them's the facts, people. I'm not even going to try to write about how I feel right now, because if I do, someone will tell me I'm being unfair for not totally understanding this. But I don't. I don't understand at all.

a lovely update on the rather un-fantastic (as of late) life of this chick...

The horse that was only $300 was already sold by the time I was able to call about it. Which was cool, I guess, because she "still needs some work", which can also be interpereted to mean "Do you have insurance? Because you'll need it." After a while, lying on your back with the wind knocked out of you, wondering what just happened just doesnt' fall in the category of "adventerous" any more; it falls into the, "even the birds in the sky are laughing at you, and why do you do this to yourself?" category.

But that was okay... and then I talked to Nick who said he's not getting any settlement from the accident because the insurance company is paying a witness to say he was driving erratically. Which means that he has no money to move here AND go to school. Which means for right now, he has to stay in England.

Of course, there was a tiny smidgen of good news, however ironic it is; if he stays in England, he'll get paid to go to school, because they need medical workers so much, and he wants to take Physical Therapy courses. Which (bad news again), go anywhere from 4 - 8 years, depending on how far you want to go with it.

And I won't be done with school for at least 2 years, because there is a waiting list. Unless I move to England and study there. In which case my friends here will kill me; Diana has in fact already vowed to do so, should I take such a drastic (in her opionion) action.

I'm going to call Nick, then buy some Ben and Jerry's ice cream and indulge in some good, unhealthy chocolate and an insane amount of fat and sugar, and I will also let me feel sorry for myself for a couple of hours. :P

Enough of that crap...

Hmmmmm, I have this problem when I get passionate about something, I put my heart and soul into it and everyone is wondering where it came from. I promise, no more late night thoughts (sermons, ha, ha...) on the subject of life and death. I'll leave the art of homelytics (I am quite sure I spelled that wrong) to those slaving over 6 inch thick books in seminary.

A bit of soul-baring...

Faith is... that little thing that makes you keep believing, even when you feel totally lost and unsure of anything.

So when we lose our faith, are we just disillusioned, or are we coming to our senses? I've seem to be hearing quite a bit that people with faith are really fools, and everyone seems to be waiting for them to come crashing back to reality. Why is faith on my mind? It just seems that you can be so sure of something and someone else can just as strongly believe you are wrong. If that makes sense...

For instance, the people fighing to hard to save Terri Schiavo's life were referred to on Larry King live as fundamental pro-lifers with some kind of twisted right wing agenda. Go ahead, read it . Which makes anyone who tried to fight for this woman's life look like some crazy fanatic who was only doing it because it was a "pro-life" invasion of religious beliefs on other people's rights. So, I start questioning myself, and what I thought I was fighting for.

It would be really nice if lies were non existant; if truth was certain, and you didn't have to wonder. Most of me says I did the right thing, but a tiny, stupid part of me gnaws away, and asks what if I am just supporting some right-wing zealot cause, and that's it's not about Terri at all, just like good ol' boy Mr. Schaivo says? If I thought she wasn't really there, that her mind was really gone, and that her husband really wanted peace for her, I wouldn't be fighting this so hard. Because frankly, I wouldn't want to be alive, either, if I could no longer think or see or feel. But is that the case? According to Micheal Schaivo, it is. And he puts tiny seeds of doubt in your mind; which is also, I might add, a firm rock of certainity for some of you. But then again, all she needs is a feeding tube; we all need food and water. All of would die without it; is that artificial life support then?

So what side do we err on? I guess, for me, I'd rather err on the side of caution.

So here's the big question: What if she did say, "Don't keep me alive if I ever get like that"? I'm sure she didn't plan on it happening. Was it an offhand, casual remark, after a t.v. show about severely disabled people kept alive artificially, or did she sit down with her husband and say, "This is what I want..." Be honest - None of us would want to be in that condition, conscious or unconscious, no one would choose it.

But many of us appreciate life so much, that the people and the love we share make life what is worth living, not the fact that we can feed ourselves or brush our own hair. Why take that away from her? Does she still want it taken away from her? I don't know, and perhaps I helped to do her a grave disservice; or perhaps I really did what I thought I was doing and saved a woman's life.

Where did it happen that our society so values perfection that we feel life is not worth living if we can't meet that? True, I can't say how I'd feel in someone else's shoes, but then, neither can someone else say, "Her life is so horrid, I'm sure she doesn't want to live,"

When I was 16, I was diagnosed with Neurofibroma-tosis, a genetic disorder which can be mild, but it can also be quite severe, causing tumors on the nerves, etc. It also can cause tumors on the skin, which can be disfiguring. However, it usually doesn't show up until adulthood. When I was 16, this news was the end of my world. No one would ever want to marry me, I was sure; I was also certain that no one would like me, even for a friend, if I wasn't normal looking; and I really didn't think that life was worth living if I didn't have friends.

So really, I got a certain carelessness, because I was pretty sure that I wanted people to remember me when I was still pretty. At 16, 25 seemed a long way off, and I was sure I was gonna live it up, have fun, and be gone way before I hit 25. I was pretty reckless on purpose, if you get my drift; because at that point, I thought my world would end if I wasn't pretty anyway, and I didn't want to find out. I sure as heck didn't want to be stared at and have nosy rude people ask me what was wrong with my skin. Big deal, I've had it happen, already; I survived it.

But guess what, I hit 25, and I don't have the perfect body anymore (if I ever did). But I enjoy life too much, I love my friends and family too much; I guess being pretty just isn't that important in the spectrum of things. And I realized if someone can't see past what they see on the outside, they're definately too shallow and self-centered and not worth having as a friend anyway. I'm not saying it doesn't bother me, but I am saying this. When you have it all, you can't imagine what life would be like without it, so it seems like life wouldn't even be worth living. But then when you start to lose it, you realize something else. You were lucky. And you still are lucky. I may not have perfect genes. My parents were, in my Psychology teacher's rather cold terms, "candidates for genetic counselling". Am I perfect? No. Do I wish my parent's had gotten an abortion and "spared" me? No. My life has been so blessed, and so rich with opportunity and experience; I wouldn't ever give any of it up, even if could look like Cindy Crawford for even a day. And its the people in my life that mean the most to me, not the horses I rode, or the rocks I climbed or the fast cars and bikes I rode/drove. But, if I didn't have my friends or family, or my faith, I'll be honest; I don't think life would be worth living. I guess that's why I fought so hard for Terri. Not that I think my life was any where near as difficult as hers, not hardly. But as to family and freinds who love her; she still has that. That's all she has. Who is anyone to take that away from her?

On being romantic...

I'm a romantic at heart, and I try and go for these awesome, romantic touches. Which only work, I might add, when other people cooperate. You always see in the movies where the guy asks this chick to marry him on the big jumbo screen at a baseball or basketball game. Now, with my luck, if I went for big screen to show my love to someone, the people in charge would either forget this completely, or get the name wrong. ("I love you, MICK, Love DORA...") And you say, "oh, of course that wouldn't happen!!, Don't be such a pessimist..."

But that kind of stuff does happen. I thought I would be all romantic, so I wrote Nick a poem about the ocean, and told him to read it on deck, looking out at the sea, listening to the crashing waves. The perfect setting, right? IF YOU GET THE NOTE, MAYBE... I then sent it to the ship's email, with his room #, like you are supposed to do when you want to get ahold of someone who is in the middle of the ocean.

Only, they failed to deliver it. It was probably mistakenly delivered to the room of an old married couple, and now the wife probably thinks her husband is having an affair on her. *sigh*

***

I can see it now...

"Wilbur!!! WHO just sent you this bit of LOVE poetry?" (voice raised several notches).

"I don't know, honey, it must be a mistake..." (confused voice of poor husband).

"Oh, its no mistake, don't take me for a fool!!! I can't believe you would do this to me!!!" (enraged voice of wife...)

***

Yes, I have a rather vivid imagination, and I'm getting a bit carried away with it, but you get my point. Not only is such a misplaced email embarrassing (I dont' want anyone to read my mush and gush), but it does have some disaster potential.

Or perhaps, some red coated bell boy was nosy and read the message he was supposed to deliver and decided to keep the poem; and, after he memorized it, wooed some unsuspecting female on the QE2. Whatever the case, I think if you pay half your life savings for a cruise (like you have to these days), you ought to have all your mail delivered ... with roses.... and with a mint on your pillow! And no tips for nosy bell boys.

Now then, maybe I should let this be a bit of a warning for further attemps at romantic settings... Who knows what would happen if I tried to have a candlelight dinner? I might set my hair on fire and look like Stephen King's Carrie. Hmmmm... McDonald's, anyone?

A Crash Course on How to Look Like an Idiot

And the scene opens at my workplace, where I'm doing patrols, and stopping and cheerfully conversing with other employees. I start telling one of the guys, Bill (not Billy Bob), about this horse I want to buy that's only $300, and... okay, that's another blog entry entirely...

Anyway, I was telling Bill about this horse, and was gabbing away, when all of the sudden I hear this voice behind me, "Excuse me,"

So, I turn around and see none other than Bill's supervisor standing there, who says rather pointedly, "Um, I HATE to interrupt you, but Bill is REALLY busy here, and he should be working... "

"Oh, sorry," I say, flashing him my most winning smile. He did NOT smile back, but remained there, a steely glint to his eye, waiting for me to leave, which I did, hurridly, my face aflame.

Of course, everyone stopped working when he came over, and stared at me as I walked out. So yes, guys, I'm giving idiot lessons to anyone who needs a couple pointers.

Oh, but I love this. When Mr. Bill's Boss left later on today, he flashed ME a winning smile on the way out the door. Grrrrrr.... It is most emphatically a Monday.

Just another day, just an ordinary day...

Today I endured another tortuous math class. I don't think that cute men should be allowed to teach, and here's why...

The teacher was just about to wrap things up, when this girl flutters her eyelashes and asks him to help her with a laughingly simple problem. While he's painstakingly writing it all out on the board, she's batting her eyelashes, and playing with her nails, smiling coyly at him... to his total oblivion. I very much doubt sincerely as to whether or not she heard his little lesson, but she stared in rapt adoration as he explained something to her... but she definitely was NOT staring at the board.

And she wasn't the only one. There were a few other members of his fan club, hanging around the classroom, not paying attention to any of the lesson, but waiting for class to end so they could ask some important (no doubt) questions.

I started noticing this strange phenomenon last class period, when a couple girls had a question to ask him about something, and hung about his desk, giggling at everything he said, and it took a VERY long time to ask whatever question they were asking.

I think the most amusing thing is he doesn't even notice. He's rather shy, and, like a typical math geek, more interested in Calculus than the female species. Sorry to all you math whizzes out there, but that's been my rather amusing observation. No, I didn't get that impression from Dilbert...

What he does notice is the giggling and whispering that goes on in class among his fan club. He actually stopped lecture today and said, "I can see that your attention span is GONE, how about we wrap it up for the day. If any of you want to stay and ask questions, that's fine, the rest of you can go."

I had to ask him when I could re-take my test, so remained with the fan club, but ... finally decided I'd just ask him later.

With old and cantankerous professors you just don't have this problem. Of course, I shouldn't complain. Old and cantankerous professors would most definitely not have taken my assignment a week late, nor would they have said, "Yes you DID have a crappy test score, so I'll think about letting you retake the test..."

Now, all I have to do is survive my Psych class. As long as we don't have a surprise test...

Some Catty Remarks

I wrote a great (in my estimation, anyway) post and my computer froze, aughhhhh, so here we go again. I think that my workplace needs to invest in getting better computers. These archaic dinosaurs just can't keep up.

My cats decided that last night was a good time to chase each other through the house, and at 3 a.m., they were still going strong; although the older cat was rather irritated at this point, and the sound of cats bounding through the house was punctuated with low growls and angry hisses. Being that cats apparently have small brains (and are therefore amused easily), this went on for some time before they got tired of it.

So this morning, when I reluctantly pulled myself out of bed and got ready for work, I wondered just why it was that I had cats. I certainly didn't inherit a love of cats from either of my parents, especially my father. I wouldn't say my dad hated cats, but... they don't seem to fancy each other all the time.

At least that was the case growing up; my cats seemed to have a life ambition to make my dad miserable. When my dad used to make his lunch for work, the cat used to hide in the kitchen, and as soon as he finished making the sandwhich, the cat would leap out of her hiding place, steal the sandwhich, and take off down the hallway in a blur of fur, claws, and mangled sandwhich. The cat would run to MY room, hide under the bed and crouch protectively over the sandwhich, yellow eyes glaring defiantly in the dark, as she gave a low warning growl that would slowly crescend a testy meowwwwwwwwww, sort of like an air raid siren. Why Dad would try to retrieve the sandwhich, I dont' really know, because he had no desire to eat it. Perhaps it was just a battle of wills; he couldn't be outsmarted by a cat.

But if Dad figured out ways to prevent the cat from stealing his lunch, there were other things the cats would do. One such incident was particularly memorable. It was a very hot summer day, and my Dad had to mow the lawn, so he headed towards the closet to put his mowing shoes on. The mowing shoes were a pair of hopelessly outdated, worn out shoes that Mom thought belonged in the garbage, but my father insisted that they were still useable and rescued them from the trash. Mom gave up, and Dad got to keep his shoes. Not if the cats had anything to do with it...

We were watching our Saturday morning cartoons, and dad went to the closet, whistling cheerfully, and absentmindedly stuck his foot in the shoe. The cheerful whistling stopped abrubtly, and became a heated mixture of some words that I can't repeat. Cartoons forgotten, our attention was immediately captured by this much funnier episode, happening right in our own living room. Dad's face turned several shades of red, and he wrenched his shoe (and sock) off and marched toward the garbage, yelling, "WHERE IS THAT @$#! CAT?!!!"

This recieved no answer, and the cats, of course, where nowhere to be seen, and stayed that way for the rest of the day (and the next day after). Apparantly, one of them had left a little *present* in my dad's shoe. He lost two battles that day; one to my mom, for the shoes went in the trash, and one to the cat, who I'm sure was somewhere, purring with mirth over my dad's unpleasant discovery.

And yet, after all that, my father still allowed me to have pets, despite the fact that they wreck furntiture, eat your plants, break things, climb on the counter at night and discover how to open food containers... and the list goes on and on. For those of you who own cats, I'm sure you know exactly what I'm talking about.

But for all the trouble cats are, what would we do without them? Um... my dad might be able to give some very good answers; perhaps I shouldn't ask that.

Other proof that I'm a hick...

I tried (and failed miserably) to argue that I'm not a hick, but then I thought of other blaring facts that attested to this accusation:

I've been in heated arguments with people over whether John Deere or Case International is better...

I know what bluegrass is. I like it.

I was in 4-H. My friends were in 4-H. It was a big deal to show cows at the county fair.

Cowboy boots and cowboy hats are cool. So is country music.

I've been at Demolition Derbys. I know the drivers. I've painted some of the cars. I've been splattered with mud and oil from those cars. :P

I know what the term tp'ing is, and I've done it.

We had a tavern in our town called The Outhouse. A toilet seat decorated the entrance. No one thought this was strange, except for my mother.

And this is the icing on the cake, folks. Yes, I've even eaten roadkill. Laugh all you want; it was good venison. Okay, here's the story, its really not that bad, once you hear it... One year my brother hit 3 deer with his car doing 80mph at 3am, and killed the deer (as well as killing his car). However, the people riding in the car were okay, and decided that those were 3 perfectly good deer on the road, so we called the DNR, got permission to take them home, and had variations of venison at every meal for the rest of the winter.

They were good sized deer, and we got a lot of compliments about 'em. No one else knew that we hit 'em. "How'd you get them," they'd ask, and we'd tell 'em, "The Drive method. It works every time..." See, being from Hickville, hunting is really big up here. Blaze orange is a fashion statement, and people don't just wear it during Hunting Season. On any given day, you will see a guy running around with a huge blaze orange parka, camouflage boots, and a bright orange hat. Why? Because Wisconsin is COLD, and hunting gear is perhaps the warmest outdoor wear on the market. But me, hunting? That's a whole different story entirely...

me, a hick?

I've just been accused of being a full-blown hick by a guy who had a mullet all through high school. I started to argue, but I really don't have a case.

The house I lived in for half of my childhood was on a farm, complete with an old outhouse and a pump (which we didn't use anymore). We lived off a dirt road, and had to walk half a mile to get picked up by the bus. Yes, we walked uphill, and no we didn't get a ride; we had one car, and Dad was already at work.

The one car was another matter entirely. It was an ugly brown Toyota, affectionately named Rusty, after thirteen years of being in the family. The bumper was tied on by green clothesline, the muffler was... well, there was no muffler; it was covered with rust sports, which were in turn, covered with a sickly white primer. People knew our car for miles around. Dogs barked five minutes before we heard it puttering into the town limits. It was sooo embarrassing.

We didn't have a t.v from the time I was 6 to about the time I was 13, because our old one (yes, it was, in fact, a 13 inch black and white...) was struck by lightning and since Dad thought t.v. was a waste of time, we never got a new one 'til vcr's later became a household name.

So what did we do for fun? We played hide and seek in the corn fields (yes I've gotten lost), we built forts in swamps and pretended we were bandits. Our sledding hill was also a cow pasture and once I rode right between a bull's legs. Luckily, he was more surprised than I was, and couldn't even resume chewing for 5 minutes, let alone trample and gouge me, as a proper bull would have done. For which I'm very grateful.

We also used to sneak over to the neighbor's and try to ride their untameable horse. We'd climb up the windmill 'til we were high enough to jump on her back, lure her over with some grass, and then hop on. We thenwould hang on for the ride of our lives 'til we either a.) were bucked off, or b.) fell off. By the time I was into my teens, I should have broken at least every major bone in my body, but I never broke anything. But it was a horse, and we thought we were gen-u-ine cowgirls.

My friends and I did numerous other incredibly stupid stunts as kids. We used to take our Tonka dump trucks to the top of the hill (on a HIGHWAY), and ride them down the hill, which, for being a toy, those babies could gain incredible speeds; however, at high speeds, they wobbled crazily by the time you neared the bottom and the scenery flashed by at a rather alarming rate... These things should come with a disclaimer. *Ahem* By the way Kids, don't try this at home...

City kids don't do stuff like that; they play Nintendo, and baseball and sell girlscout cookies and have lemonade stands. They have no idea what a cow looks like, except from picturees, and they probably couldn't drive a tractor if their life depended on it.

Does that matter? Probably not, but I think they miss out on stuff. Like what, you ask? Accidentally stepping in a cow pie? Well, that too, but, there's other things. They'll never feel big and strong when they can finally carry a 25 lb feed sack all by themselves. They learn a good work ethic (there's always work to do in the country), which most kids don't see as beneficial at all, but its good to know how to get the job done, and get it done right.

They'll never feel the wonder of seeing a newborn farm animal for the first time, or feeding it. For that matter, there's nothing quite like learning (without ever being told) just how that cute little bundle of joy got there.

You worried about less things too; my best friend taught me to drive on back roads in the country two years before I ever got my permit... :P You also didn't have to worry about getting kidnapped or having your bike stolen from your yard. There was no curfew set by the village, you could play as late as your parents let you, and you could be as loud as you wanted to. Its not like the cows were gonna call and complain.

Okay, so its not all cool; city kids probably have never, in the midst of the hated chore of throwing wood into the basement, gotten their mitten caught on a heavy piece of wood and thrown themselves down the stairs as well. They have probably not gotten stuck in a post hole (that looked like a great hiding spot at the time) for hours, while playing hide and seek (and gotten forgotten about, probably on purpose, by the older kids). They were probably never late to work because cows were lose on the road and they couldn't get past them... Or hit a skunk with the car on the way to a wedding... Or had a car so junky in definition that thier friends wanted it for demolition derby. Or when, after giving to their friends for that purpose, all the wheels fell off when they were hauling it away behind a tractor, and in doing so became the laughingstock of other area hicks (Yes, that actually happened). Even counting that... I still think I had more fun... AND, call me a little country hick, but I never had a mullet. :P But yes, I must admit it: I do know how to polka. Yah, sure, youbetcha!

Shopping is, um, educational... :P

Nick... don't read this. heheheheh... I skipped math class today and went shopping instead. It was quite fun and even educational; I learned how to save money. I got a funky new coat (ON SALE!!!) and a couple of shirts. I'm still looking for a bigger purse to bring to England, one that fits all my junk AND can fit Nick's stuff too (without buying a granny purse). However, my purse was so overloaded that I couldn't zip it when he was here, and that was just from trying to carry my stuff - make-up, cell phone, checkbook, credit cards, sunglasses... oh and his cameras and sunglasses. I didn't even have his wallet, lol. I think he was afraid to give that to me, hehehehe. Hey, I don't always spend money, I just made some worthy investments today. :P Anyway, I'm so excited about going to England! Yay! And no, I will NOT come back with an irritating fake accent. And hey, I only start talking like a pom when its 2am and I've drunk loads of caffine and have had a ton of chocolate. That's liable to make anyone loopy. :D

OTHER THAN THAT...

My life has been pretty boring, I've been pretty busy keeping up on the Terri Schaivo case, work and school, and I know alot of you are wondering how I'm doing.

Just kinda wondering how I got to be so dang lucky; I'm surrounded by a loving, supportive (though somewhat eccentric) family (LOL), totally awesome friends, and a wonderful guy, who I could write about all day, and still not be able to express how much I love this guy.

A lot of my friends haven't found the right guy yet, a few of them have had their hearts broken by guys they thought loved them... me included, and then along comes Nick. When we first started talking, we were just friends, and that's how I thought it was going to be... because, well... I'm a dork magnet, lol, or I was beginning to think I was. And Nick is anything but a dork...

Okay, let me tell you about the guys that usually asked me out, lol, and you'll say it too: Nora is a dork magnet...

A coworker tried to set me up with her roommate, Jason, a guy who's life ambition was to be Cornhulio from a t.v. show called Beavis and Butthead (the name explains it all). When we met, I wanted to move to Antarctica; he decided he was in love. I had to convince him he wasn't. My room mate was mad at me.

My friend Kate's room mate also got the hots for me, but he juuuuust didn't do it for me. Maybe it was the fact that he wore his pants up to his chest and didn't seem all that bright, but "hot" wasn't a word that came to mind when I thought of him.

Another guy, also named Jason, decided I was dating material after we worked Security together at Country Jam. He won points when he asked my Dad if he could date me, but my dad lost points when he said, "yes". This guy was unemployed, didn't have a car, had no friends, except a guy nicknamed "Sparky". Sparky got his name because he set a building on fire and then pretended to "find" the fire and put it out, so he could be a hero; except it didnt' work, and the building burnt down. Anyhow, the guy called himself "Maverick" off of the movie Top Gun, and told everyone he had a car in his garage that could do speeds up to Mach 5. He also talks to himself and then answers in different voices to create the illusion of a two-way conversation. I suppose, yes, he was crying out for attention and probably just needed the right woman. But it ain't me.

And of course, every person has a stalker, and I had mine. We worked at the same building, he was a behomoth of a man, about 7 ft. tall and 300 lbs or so, and he had a temper about as short as a dynamite fuse. Besides scaring the crap out of me with his vague little references to how "the people that died in the 9/11 attacks deserved it because Americans are too rich and self absorbed", and how the jocks at school made fun of him, but "they wouldn't be laughing if he had come to school with a gun in his hands"... Yeah, if that wasn't enough of a turn off, he made really dirty, explicit remarks to me all the time and thought it was funny. He would always be waiting outside in the parking lot for me, no matter when I came out, and he'd follow me around everywhere. I just about had a heart attack when he followed me into the machine room and casually announced that it was so loud in there that no one could hear me scream. With my wild imagination, I was starting to picture someone finding my dead body washed up in the river that ran behind our building. Sooooo yeah, I was glad when he got fired because he wasn't doing his job (of course he wasn't; he was stalking me all the time). It really wasn't a surprise when I read in the paper that he was in trouble for road rage; apparently he'd run some poor shmuck of the road because he'd cut him off. Make a note: Angry Perverts.... not boyfriend material!!!

So anyway, I wasn't really looking when I found Nick, but I sure noticed him. :) He was smart, he was funny, and he was definately not a pervert. He was really fun to talk to, and we shared alot of the same interests, and he was cute too, which was a nice touch. lol.

So... Somewhere between now and then, I must have lost my "loser magnet" status, because things happened, we started talking more, then writing, then calling... then we met, and it was the coolest thing. When we met, it was like we'd already been together for a long time - well, lol, its hard to explain, it was more like finally reuniting with an old and very dear friend.

Nick is definately the best thing that ever happened to me. He's sweet and attentive and probably knows me better than I know myself, which lol...i'm not perfect by any means, and my personality can't be all that attractive to him some days. :P But the thing that impresses me most and that I love most about him is the respect he treats me with. He cares enough about my feelings and my beliefs and has an interest in what I want, and what I'm thinking, and that's what makes him special to me, I guess.

Yes I'm picky, and yes I have high standards, but there ARE men out there like that, Nick is def. one of them. :)

Unfortunately for my friend's boyfriends, I want just as good for my friends, so I'm pretty tough on the guys if they don't measure up. LOL, just ask some of my gal pals.

a bit of an update on MY life...

Recently, we had an inter-office memo directed at all the employees about gossip. Apparently, a few of us have big mouths. I for one, do not know who that could be, I never say much at all...

Okay, I talk alot and I like to share information, but I wouldn't call it gossip. But sometimes coworkers do funny (or completely stupid) things that are too amusing to NOT repeat. For instance, yesterday, my supervisor had to drive the company car (which had a broken door handle). HE looked right at me and asked how we opened the door with the handle being broken and I told him that he had to open the window and open it from the outside. So we're driving along, and get to where we need to go, and he has to get out. I watch him pull on the door handle (with no luck of course), and then he stares at the door for awhile, then turns to me.

"How do you get out?" he asks, perplexed.

I point to the window. "You have to open the window," I tell him.

He rolls down the window and waits. I look at him; he looks at me, then says, "Oh! You have to open the door from the outside?!"

Sigh. Am I in a Dilbert comic?

***

At any rate, this was funny, and I later had to tell my co-worker who was just as amused as I was. However, I suppose this constitutes as gossip. Hmmm... is gossip okay when its funny? I kind of did a self evaluation and thought about all the times I told "funny" stories... and yes, I've been guilty on that rare occasion of running to the phone with a juicy tidbit of info about a person I'm not too keen on.

Which makes me realize:
I am a gossip. I keep picturing myself in that Norman Rockwell painting of those two old crones leaning over a fence gossiping, hair done up in rollers, slippers on, wearing sloppy housedresses, completely oblivious to their children raising mayhem in the yards behind them. What? Is that me in ten years? Nooooo, say it isn't so!

But perhaps my supervisor meant "malicious" gossip, and I know she's not talking to me, because there's this evil old crone of a woman I work with who... *ahem* Uh-oh, I'm doing it again...

****

What if?

I love this song...

"What if She's an Angel"

There's a man standing on the corner
with a sign sayin' "Will work for food"
You know the man, you see him every morning
The one you never give your money to

You can sit there with your window rolled up
Wondering when the light's gonna turn green
Never knowing what a couple more bucks
in his pocket might mean...

What if he's an angel sent here from heaven
and he's making certain that you're doing your best
To take the time to help one another
Brother are you gonna pass that test?

You can go on with your day to day
trying to forget what you saw on his face
Knowing deep down he could have been your
saving grace
What if he's an angel?

There's a man and there's a woman
living right above you in apartment G
There's a lot of noise coming through
the ceiling and it don't sound like harmony

You can sit there with your tv turned up
While the words and his anger fly
But come tomorrow when you see her with her
shades on, can you look her in the eye?

What if she's an angel sent here from heaven
and she's making certain that you're doing your best
To take the time to help one another
Brother are you gonna pass that test?

You can go on with your day to day
trying to forget what you saw on her face
Knowing deep down you could have been her
saving grace
What if she's an angel?

A little girl on daddy's lap
hiding her disease with a baseball cap
You can turn the channel,
most people do but what if you were sitting in
her daddy's shoes?

Maybe she's an angel sent here from heaven
and she's making certain that you're doing your best
To take the time to help one another
Brother are you gonna pass that test?

You can go on with your day to day
trying to forget what you saw on her face
Knowing deep down you could have been her
saving grace
What if she's an angel?

-Tommy Shane Steiner-
Austin, Texas

An update on MY life

Well, Nick is on his way back home, and I was spoiled; I won't be able to talk to him twice a day anymore. Actually while he's on ship, I won't be able to talk to him at all. :(

Other than supremely missing Nick, I totally put off doing my math studies and realized just how much of a misake that was when I took my math test today. Remind me, someone, that hating math is NOT an excuse for possibly failing the class due to neglecting it.

I finally found my birth certificate so I can get my passport, but have to wait until next payday. I can't belive I'll be in England day after Christmas!!! Yay!

Other than that.... Oh, I'm almost done making Nick's Christmas present, but I can't tell you what it is, because he reads this too... hmmmm, on that thought, perhaps I shouldn't have been so gushy in my previous posts. Oh well... Anyway, I hope he likes it; am having fun making it.

Okay, I'll give you a hint... it has something to do with his second favorite team, the Pittsburgh Steelers (because I couldn't find anything for the Browns).

Oh and I got a perfect score on my group project that I had to do right before Nick came, so it was worth the effort.

Ciao for now... a horde of giggleing girls in the library is totally disintegrating my concentration, and I can't think of a thing to write.

I know I talk alot, but...

Uh-oh, a friend just reported to me that she tried to print my blog and it jammed her printer. She asked how many pages it came out to, anyway? Ooops. :P I didn't know my life was so jam packed that it was capable of jamming a printer! Hmmmmm....

A volcano... gushing forth a lava of mushy sentiments...

I have been told that the gush factor of this blog is quite high. Hmmmm.... I don't gush, do I? Sorry, guys, I can't help it. :P My life has been very gushworthy as of late. I'm still kind of half expecting to wake up soon and realize that this is all a wonderful dream... I've pinched myself several times though, and am happy to report that I seem quite awake. :P

How about Dem Packers

Guess what?!!! I'm going to a Packer game, my sister's friend gave her tickets!!! Whoo-hooo!!!! So now I get to sit wrapped in an enourmous coat, looking like a snowman, in a freezing stadium, but its the Packers, so I won't care!!!! Yeah!!! Cold weather? Bring it on, baby!!!

Highlights of the Week...

Sharing a plate of "pastalaya" with Nick at the Rainforest Cafe during a fake thunderstorm...

Gooseberry Falls... and some great pics...

the sunset at split rock...

seeing a boat go under the arial lift bridge at night, with all the lights sparkling on the water...

The beautiful scenic rides we had on the way to places...

Getting calls from Cristina in Australia, and "Frosty" in North Carolina...

Meeting the gang at the mall of America...

Fighting dinos from Jurassic park together on a video game, and being named a "great team"...

Best thing about this week was...

I got to do all this with Nick... he was, by far, the best part of the week. :D

When Hicks drive in the City

Perhaps the inaccurate maps and confusing road signs weren't all to blame; put a hick in the city, and we'll get confused. I mean, my idea of a traffic jam is ten cars being stuck behind a tractor on a no passing zone (on a two lane hwy). If, by any chance, we have something as big as a 2 four lane hwy, if traffic is stopped, or going slower than 35mph, we have a.) construction, or b.) an accident. And... you have more of a chance around here of hitting a deer on a lonely country road than getting rear-ended on the freeway. So anyway, I was thinking that Goerge Lucas had a totally great idea with this Star Wars thing. Light speeders, pods, x-wings, y-wings, etc... all this little hovering transportation devices... and no roads!!!! But then... if there are no roads, there are no signs. Furthermore, if you get lost in space, and miss your destination, you're not just missing an exit; you're missing a whole planet! And if your coordinates were off, you could land your ship in a swamp. In Lucas' universe, they didn't have tow trucks - although, they DID have the force. However, since I can't even haul my own tired carcass over a climbing wall, I don't think I could lift my ship out of the swamp - Force or not. Or worse, you could get lost in a strange forest and get captured by Ewoks. Well... okay, I guess driving in the cities isn't so bad; I always figure out how to get there, and I haven't landed on any strange planets, all though that Billy Bob character could have been from another planet. And yes, Molly, this guy had a mullet. It was a dandy, too, long and curly and greeeasy. So greasy in fact, that he could have rung it out into a bowl and fried something. But that's another story. See the "yob" post. :P

First impressions

Upon waking up Saturday, I discovered a huge zit on my face, that had a nice red, angry look to it. So much for looking beautiful. My concealer did nothing to conceal it, and so I felt like a freshman in high school again. Why couldn't it have come on Sunday, after he left? I think that acne is really the result of an evil little fairy that sprinkles acne dust on you at night when you sleep, but only at important times. At least it wasn't on my nose. Combine that with my sleep deprivation, and moodiness at his being gone, and maybe a broom, people would think I was the Wicked Witch of the West. Yes, Dorothy, there IS no place like home. When I get there, I'll sleep for a week. :P

Fun Brit Phrase: "Drunken Yobs"

Yes, there's a story behind that; The restaurant at the hotel also served as a bar, but Nick said that since it was at a hotel it wouldn't be full of "drunken yobs". Right. I'm not sure what a drunken yob is (or at least a yob), but I think one was there on Friday night. This guy (we nicknamed him Billy Bob) kept coming over to our table and flirting with us. Then he put some total honkey tonk songs in the juke box and asked me and Becky to dance with him, which greatly annoyed Delton and Nick.

First off, when we came into the room and hadn't even gotten a table yet, he noticed my superman t-shirt and asked me with a wink if I liked super men. I told him that Nick was my superman. He looked back from me to Nick and then slowly, he comprehended the fact that I was not at all interested in him. So he walked away. Then he seemed to think that if he became best friends with Nick, that he could hang out with me and Becky. Grrrrr... So Nick is trying to walk over to Marisol and Suz's table, and the guy stands right in his way and starts trying to make conversation. Nick was annoyed by now and kept walking. The guy finally got out of his way, and then Nick steered me in front of him, and we escaped. Kind of... *sigh* Billy Bob, it turned out, had also been hitting on Suz, and when he saw us all together, it must have been a redneck's dream come true, cuz he came walking... er... stumbling over, asking us to dance with him... again. For some stupid reason, I felt like I had to be polite, but I wanted to shout, "get lost!!!!" (should I have included a please in that?). Finally, Billy Bob saw someone else, and made his way over to another table, where he sat down and just started talking. The woman tried to pointedly ignore him, but he didn't get the hint. But at least he was leaving us alone. I think, and correct me if I'm mistaken Nick, but he definately would fit under the "yob" classification.

Yes, I'm still Alive...

I've had a busy and fun filled (truly!!!) week. Nick came on Monday, and I've had a wonderful time. :) He's just left today (how sad); but it's amazing how time flies... grrrr... he had to go home wayyy too soon. Well, that's in my humble opinion.

Right, then... here's a rundown of my lovely, spectacular, unforgettable week. Well, okay -- first off, my weekend was a bit hectic; I had to work, and aside from that, I spent it writing up a report and making a speech for my favorite class - yes, Pyschology, and doing some yardwork. My task was writing on the different opinions regarding sexual orientations, give all the veiws from an OBJECTIVE point of veiw... in other words, give all the opinions regarding this topic, but don't offend anyone. Totally fun. I got the whole thing written up and was very proud of getting it done on time, but my mother disapproved of how I wrote it and had her own suggestions for how it should be written from a different point of view. I really didn't care; it was done, and that was that. I still had a load of food to cook, grocery shopping to do, yardwork, and cleaning. My house is one of those homes that no matter how much you dust and mop and sweep, and pick up, its always a mess.

Monday

However, on Monday, I managed to survive my speech and hand in my paper, although I had the misfortune of looking at one of my classmates (Travis) during my group member Lance's speech (it was a group project), and good ol' Travis was laughing shamelessly, so I suddenly wanted to laugh, and I failed miserably at keeping my composure. What was Lance's topic? Homosexuality among the animal kingdom, and at the inopportune moment I was overcome with mirth, he was talking about gay giraffes. Shame on you, Travis, for laughing, and giving me a sure docking of points. Oh well, according to my teacher, I won't be able to keep the "A" I got in my last class anyway, as her expectations are so much "higher" than my last Psych teacher's were.

After class, I managed to get the shopping done, and finish up most of the housework. I had just finished making my pies when I realized I hadn't cleaned the fishtank, so I had to run and do that, and the connecting hose didn't want to fasten tightly to the sink faucet; it was stripped, so after spraying the walls (they got a second cleaning), I managed to get it connected to a different faucet (without the stripped connector).

Fish surviving the latest tank invasion, and the pies being done, Becky and Delton arrived and we set out for a jolly road trip to pick up Nick from the train station in the cities. Alas, the yahoo instructions were totally crap and we got quite lost - in the cities, on a 4 lane highway. We FINALLY found the station, and THEN I got nervous...

What if he thought I was ugly, or even hideous? What if he took one look at me and got back on the train?! What if he hated me? Then I decided my hair was stupid. Delton told me I had something in my teeth (there was NOT anything in my teeth... grrrr), and laughed when I checked. Okay, he did stuff like that about a million times; I only checked once.

Finally, he arrived, and I ran up to meet him, and then like a moron, I just stood there. I couldn't remember how to say hi, or anything. He tried to give me a hug, and I couldn't remember how to hug, either, so I probably looked like an akward marionette trying to give someone a hug. Had I been him, that would have been my cue to panic and think about getting back on the train... Well, anyway, my shy/speechless/stupid phase only lasted for about two minutes, thankfully, and I managed to babble incessantly for a good part of the rest of the trip. We went to Denny's at around 11:30 p.m. and had a proper late night meal - breakfast. :P

Tuesday

Somehow, I thought it would be a bright idea to have a cookout on Tuesday afternoon, so he could meet all my friends. Well, cookouts mean work, and lots of people mean... lots of work. I was running about all morning preparing food, and then was delayed because everyone wanted breakfast, and my parents seemed to be content with the idea that since it was my company, it was my job to cook. My mom thought she was "helping"; she kept doling out liberal amounts of tips and suggestions for me. Why are moms like that? I should mention that for some reason, I had decided that some "quick" dinner rolls would be lovely to have for the B-B-Q, and decided to whip those up, but it took longer, because of breakfast, and then there were other things to make after the rolls, and the morning was just gone, and the people were set to arrive in about an hour, when Becky and her mom came and saved the day (I'm afraid with all my cooking and rushing about, I had totally neglected Nick). Anyway, Becky's mom kicked me out of the kitchen and told me not to waste time cooking, but to spend it with Nick. She then asked me what had to be done and refused to let me help. Becky's mom is awesome. :D

Of course, I had made enough food to feed a small country and we had tons of left-overs. My friends (most of them) got to meet Nick, and they think he's awesome too. :D Then I had to go to my last hunter's safety class (don't laugh!!!!). I couldn't get out of it; in order to graduate, I had to show up and listen to the game warden tell us to always wear orange and to be sure to do many things that I can't remember the half of now. But I'm afraid I bored Nick by dragging him along, but he said he was fine. Oh well, I got a very cool (not) orange hat out of the deal. :P The class ended at 9:45, and we were both too tired to do anything, so hung out at my house. My mother saw how tired I was and offered to help out with whatever I needed, so I took her up on her offer and asked her to make corn chowder for a picnic we were gonna have on Thursday. She said she'd make it up Wedsneday night, so we could just heat it up and go on Thursday, since she worked Thurs. morning. Yay, some more time with Nick!!!

Wednesday

Wednesday, we went to Green Bay, and saw the Packer Stadium, and toured the Packer Hall of Fame. For some STUPID reason that I can't fathom, I got all emotional seeing it all and got teary eyed. He's gonna think I'm such a sappy flake. :P Nick, of course, being the die-hard Browns fan, decided to wear his Browns jersy to the Packer stadium, so everyone would know his true loyalties... lol. We spent an outrageous amount on some games in the arcade, but I think I managed to beat him at a game of air hockey, so it was worth it (we won't mention that that next game he totally annihilated me; I think I got 0 points). :P My sister lives in the area, so we stopped at her place for supper (which was great fun seeing her and the family), but didn't get out of there til like 8pm or something, and we had a 4 hour drive ahead of us, so that was a fun ride home. Nick was more tired than I was, but he kept awake because he was afraid I'd fall asleep, I think, and so he kept me awake. If he hadn't been there, I don't think I'd have made it home, I was that tired. I drank loads of Mt. Dew, though, so it helped somewhat. When I got home, I discovered that there was NO corn chowder, and of course, being the calm person that I am, I panicked. :P But my mom got up at 1am and decided to chop onions and potatoes and make corn chowder. My dad, who had been sleeping soundly, heard her chopping the onions downstairs and yelled, "I got it, just a minute, I'll be right down!!!" (he thought someone was at the door, I had to convince him it was mom on a midnight cooking spree). But I was soooo glad mum was making corn chowder after all; it meant I could sleep in!!!!

Thursday

Thursday, was when we relaxed, right? Well, that's what your HOPING to read, but nope... we went on yet another adventure. :P I thought it would be fun to meet my friend Molly in Duluth and tour Split Rock Lighthouse and see Gooseberry Falls, and have a quaint little picnic. I thought, as cold as it was, that this corn chowder would be just the thing to bring along. So after being lazier than I should have been, I rolled out of bed, and went to get ready for the picnic. When I opened the refridgerator to heat up the chowder, I found... neatly labled tupperware containers of onions, celery, potatoes and bacon, all ready to throw in the pot (which takes about 45 mins. to cook). Aughhhhhhhh, I had misunderstood!!! I panicked again - by this time, I'm sure Nick thought I was a total spas-o, but I threw everything in the pot, and then stupidly decided that since I had four burners, why not cook breakfast??? Martha Stewart made it look easy, of course I could do it, no problem. Right. Nicks bacon was slightly burnt on the edges, I think his "sunny side up" egg was more "runny side up" than anything (not to mention that the cook was anything but sunny), but he insisted that it tasted wonderful. I really don't deserve this guy; he's wonderful! :)

Then, I went to make the sandwhiches and realized we were out of ham, so had to run to the store and buy ham to finish my sandwhiches. That mission a success, all I had left to do throw the finished chowder in thermoses, whip up some hot cocoa, and go. Well, sort of... I had forgotten to turn the burner off, so when Nick accidentally spilt the excess chowder onto the stove trying to put it away for me (what a sweetheart), it prompty cooked onto the surface and made a nice mess. Still not realizing that I had the dang burner on, I got a sponge and tried to wipe it off. I didn't get the chowder off, but I did manage to scald my hand nicely with the now very hot sponge. I think disaster kind of follows me... I can't seem to make a day go smoothly; so far this week I'd laughed during a group presentation (in front of the most critical teacher ever), was rendered speechless upon meeting Nick, then to add further insult, I burnt his breakfast, and then of course I burnt my hand. :P Oh well... But all this fun stuff takes time, and by now, even Nick was worried and told me to just forget the hot chocolate, it was too hot for it; and to just go. But being the stubborn mule that I am, I made the hot choolate, and decided to be wicked and leave the dishes. Okay, now it is 11 am, and we are supposed to meet Molly at 1pm... the drive is approx 2.5 hrs (going the speed limit). I swear, half the excitement of that day was just getting out of the house!!!

We made it to Duluth by 5 mins. past 1 (no, you do NOT need to know how fast I went), and met Molly in Canal Park. Being by the lake, it WAS cold, and the hot chocolate and corn chowder was as lovely as we girls had thought it would be. After pigging out, we headed off for Gooseberry Falls, where I paid a ridiculous amount of money for some (very cool) salt and pepper shakers at the gift shop (they were bears!), and then we headed off to see the Falls.

The Falls were awesome - great big boulders jutting out of the hillside, with water crashing down, and although the water was low this time of year, you could see its path, and how trees were growing right out of the rock, with the roots haning on tenaciously right on the side of the cliff wall. It was really gorgeous. Of course since there were rocks, and I had to climb them, so I went to a really high point and then waved at everyone, which was great fun, watching Nick and Molly walking around looking for me, till I hollered and waved. the found me, and took a snapshot, because of course, it made a fun photo, but then... I realized I had to get down. It's much easier going up than down, and I did a Stallone cliffhanger thing on the way down. It's a good thing I didn't fall; it was a good 30 feet. But it was fun, I love climbing rock (you'll hear more about this rather stupid affinity for rocks later). Strangely enough, I managed not to fall crashing screaming into the rocks, but yet when I was running down the stairs to meet up with Molly and Nick again, I almost tripped and fell. Grrrr!

After we left Gooseberry Falls, we headed for Split Rock lighthouse, only to find that they closed in about ten minutes, and the great exciting tour was $8. Were we going to pay $8 for ten minutes? Nope, we weren't, so we snuck down a nature trail, took some lovely shots, and raced back to the car. Nick was not interested in the lighthouse, and told us to go ahead while he waited in the car. On the way back to the car, as Molly and I were racing down the trail, a root came out of nowhere and tripped me and I flew about ten feet and rolled another 5 and then lay on my back wondering what had happened. I had leaves in my hair, in the hood of my sweatshirt, and my jeans were covered in dirt. I had to limp the rest of the way back to the car like a wounded prize-fighter, but by the time we got to the wayside to take more pics, I was quite recovered.

We girls had the bright idea to eat at this "cool" Indian restaraunt (East Indian), that was in Duluth, and although Nick didn't share our excitement, he went along with it. How many times to you get to eat authentic Indian cusine at a little restaraunt? Apparently, the chances are slim... we should have known there was a bit of a problem with the "authenticity" of the place when we saw beef on the menu. What, what??? Hindus don't eat beef!!!! But we figured, hey, its America, maybe anything goes here. To make a long story short, the food wasn't that exotic, it was like paying $15 for a plate of fried chicken. Thank you very much, I'll fry it myself and it will taste better! But the place was kind of cool, little beaded candle holders and mosiacs on the walls, and elephants and rugs, it was very cool.
But all in all, it was a great day, I had tons of fun, and I'm pretty sure Nick did, despite my poor choice in fine dining. :P Alas, when I got back, my dirty dishes met me at the door, clamoring loudly to be washed, and so I did a much delayed cleaning up of the kitchen. But it worked out fine, because by the time Nick got out of the shower, the dishes were done, the floor sweeped and mopped, and I had checked my email. I then informed him that we could sleep in on Friday, because all we had to do was pack and go, and he of course couldn't resist teasing me that we'd be late yet again, because I'd go find some cooking to do. At this point, I was just amazed that I was still thinking coherently; I was pretty tired. Cooking? Yeah right...

Friday

So Friday rolls around, and we manage to get out of the house about when we wanted to (yay!!), and get to the mall. Right, now all we have to do is meet 6 people we haven't met yet (a bunch of us that chatted online together decided to meet at the Mall of America). Well, Nick had met Denise, so we at least knew what one person looked like. :) Sounds easy, right? Well, we sat for about 15 minutes before we finally realized that Nancy was already there (before us!), and had been waiting. Then another guy showed up, and after a few more minutes the rest of the gang showed up. Pretty good for never having met (in person) before - we all found each other. :D

Camp Snoopy is a total tourist trap, and the people that run it are totally unashamed of that fact. The cost of things is atrocious, but people go, because its an indoor amusement park. hehehe... I even fell victim. They had a climbing wall at Camp Snoopy... Cool, I thought, I can climb, it looks like fun. Well, in the first place its a fiberglass wall. God did not make rocks out of fiberglass, they are not even remotely of the same texture. Yes, one can climb a fiberglass wall, but it is alot harder than it looks. The wall of fame becaue my little wall of shame... i didn't exactly make it to the top, I tried the "difficult" one, before I decided after a few hopless attempts that my pride couldn't be injured anymore, then I tried the "intermediate" one. Well.... I got about 2/3rds of the way up before my arms gave up, but the great fiberglass wall doesn't exacly let you lean on the wall to catch your breath. So there, I am, perched on this wall, like a desparate cat burglar, and then my arms gave out and I let go and rode the safety harness down to the bottom. My arms were screaming in protest, and for the rest of the day, they refused to forgive me. So my illusions of being a great climber were shattered (and I lost $5, or I should say Nick did). Like I said, its a tourist trap. Do you think I learned my lesson? Nooooo - I decided to do the "haunted house"! Was it even remotely haunted? No, although the fact that the scare factor WAS so lame - that kind of scared me. It was called ghost blasters, and you had to shoot the ghosts that popped up. Well, I made like 250 points, which impressed ME, til Suz reported that she was well into the thousands range. Dang, girl!!!! Anyway, we were pretty snooped out, but Nick saw the arcade so we spend some more of his money in there, lol, you can get alot of tokens for $10!!!! :P We fought dinosaurs in a virtual reality Jurassic Park game, rode in the tt races on the Isle of Man (and were both killed), and did some other fun games. Ha, I could NOT help it, I saw a Star Wars games and had to play it -- I managed to kill a few Storm Troopers before being blasted to smithereens by a ... Imperial something. Anyway, I lost, before I even had a chance to weild a light saber. As Yoda would say, A good Jedi I am not.

We ate at the rainforst cafe, which is loaded with tropical fishtanks, the ceiling is done up in fake vines and plants and there are little waterfalls in the room; its gorgeous! Then there was a fake alligator, and I stuck my hand in its (rubber) teeth, and he "cruched down, so Nick got a good pic of that. :P However, there's a price to pay for cool pics; my hair got all wet as I was hanging over edge of pool doing the "caught by the gator" pose.

But we had a great time; after eating, Jilly and her family went home, and we went back to the hotel and hung out with Denise, Suz, Marisol, Nancy, Becky, Delton, and Diana. Hmmm... I think that was everyone (including me and Nick). Well, I should say we EVENTUALLY got to the hotel... We got a little lost on the way, and Nick was trying to give me yahoo directions (which were WRONG!!!!), and, topped with confusing Minnesota road signs, we went about 10 miles out of the way, but since we got lost on that exact same route picking Nick up (yes, we are bad), we knew how to get to the hotel then, because we remembered what we'd done last time. If that makes any sense. Poor Nick, I think I got a bit cranky at the point when we were still lost; he was telling me how to drive, and I was tired, and even I didn't know where I was going, I still thought I could figure out what to do... oh well, we sorted it out.

But we did find the place, and headed for the pools. Finally, some relaxation!!! Suz was dared to push me in the pool and did, but I thought it was Diana, so she got off the hook. :P

Speaking of Diana, Delton and Becky and I teased her mercilessly because she had leopard print pajamas. We called her the wild thing. :P Hehehe... she threatened to kick my butt if I didn't stop teasing her, but Becky told her that it wasn't likely since she didn't eat meat any more and wouldn't have any strength. The poor girl didn't know who's butt to kick after that. Oh well, she's pretty worn out from the weekend, along with the rest of us... I think it will be a bit before she kicks anything. Me... I need about a year to recover - well, til Christmas is good, til I go to England. :)

By the way, Nick, if you are reading this... I never panic. I just focus alot of energy on one thing, sometimes. heh... :P

I haven't been up to much lately, I have a fantastic cold. I'm practially hoarse, but I did manage to talk to nick, who also has a cold. He has discovered the virtues of Ny-Quil, however, and feels much better than he did yesterday. For my friends outside the US, Ny-Quil is a great little cold medicine that works wonders... as long as you don't have to go anywhere. But then again, if you're taking Ny-Quil, you probably aren't in any shape TO go anywhere.

Ah well, being sick, and not going out, I did some sorting, and found the wedding card I had bought for Becky and Delton's wedding (last year), and couldn't find. I'm not exactly messy, I just put things away in spots that I think I'll remember and lose them...

Alas, Dee and Greg have announced that THEY are engaged, so I guess I can give the card to them. :P Yes, I'm a dork, but I can't exactly give the card to Becky and Delton now, and its funny! I want to use it for someone!

Ah, well, I didn't get much done this week, but at least I can look at it this way. I've gotten sick now, no chance of me catching a nasty cold when he's here. When he's here... that is so close!!!! He'll be here in 5 days!!!!