I’m writing this from the beach, but it won’t be posted for a few days since I don’t have internet that I can depend on. Well, I can slightly depend on internet, but getting a wifi signal consists largely of sitting in a specific place on the deck and praying to the internet Gods that “NETGEAR” somehow works today.
Soapbox:
If you have a router for your internet signal, and maybe live in an area where poor students might live there, maybe you could be a good internet citizen and NOT encrypt your signal. I’m not saying you shouldn’t have firewalls and all that security jazz, but maybe just give away a little bit of bandwidth. Really, does Comcast’s CEO need ANOTHER yacht paid for by starving students, artists and vagrants? Before you get on your “I shouldn’t have to pay for some computer nerd’s internet” high horse, just remember that Open Source Code has been one of the greatest things in the development of the internet as we know it. What is Open Source Code? Basically, it’s someone doing something really hard (writing computer code – and I doubt any of us Georgia grads can do that with great proficiency like our Yellajacket friends), something for which one could make a lot of money – as did Bill Gates with a little thing called MS-DOS and Windows – and instead giving it to the internet FOR FREE. They gave you things like Napster, the least you could do to say thanks is maybe “forget” to password-protect your signal.
Off Soapbox.
Anyway, the week has been extremely good to us here at the beach. We’ve gotten some sun, played with Melissa’s little cousins/relatives, and managed to make a few bucks in the meantime. We’ve had great weather, and 6-hour days at the beach just about every day. I’m also happy to report that we’ve kept up our walking schedule and have walked at least 5 miles a day, with our biggest walk being from 56th Street all the way down to 20th. Round-trip, that’s 70 blocks for you mathematicians out there. We went to the boardwalk one night for some ice cream and bumper cars, went to the OD in Sea Isle one night, and we’re going back there tonight as Mr. Greengenes and $2 bottles are on the marquee. I can’t complain about anything during the week, it’s been a much-needed respite from the daily grind in Philly. I had a shore house last summer in Avalon, and I have to say – there’s something different about going to the shore when you’re going for the shore scene versus just going to GO TO THE BEACH. I don’t know how to explain it other than the fact that I’m far more sober this year than last. For those of you that remember me last year, I probably needed that summer-of-not-being-sober, but this summer has been quite different, yet welcome as a change. I don’t know if I’d have walked 5 miles on the beach last summer, gotten up at 9 to drag all kinds of stuff down to the ocean or enjoyed Melissa’s Mom-Mom’s meatloaf & fried chicken every night. But I did it this summer and thoroughly enjoyed it.
For those of you who are now scared that Molly has ceased to be fun, have no fear. I’m still here, just rebuilding cellular damage to various parts of my body. Specifically, my liver. But at any rate.
I also have managed to get a little bit of writing done…longhand. I’m scared at the thought of what has come out of my Bic Cristal Pen that has now lost a long battle to Ocean City’s sand. It could be a bunch of crap, but could turn out to be something decent. I guess my deciphering of my own handwriting shall tel
Since I’ve Looking forward to a fun night at the OD, then a fun last full day at the beach – we’re going back either Friday or Saturday.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
Weekend update...going down the shore
So yes, my post from yesterday was supposed to be posted thursday morning but then didn't post til Friday, and then I just changed the date back. So I went on the date Thursday, not Friday, so it wasn't two dates on two nights (had a couple people who seem to love not commenting ask me). Yeah, two dates in two nights might be a little much for me. I'd be the Carrie Bradshaw of Philadelphia, which is NOT the case. It's Anyway, yes, went on the date. I had met him earlier in the week (a mutual friend had randomly insisted he set us up, which I'm now glad I accepted), but seeing as how I was so hopped up on antibiotics earlier in the week, it was kind of a first date. Anyway, very nice guy, I had a lot of fun. He came over after he got off work at the hospital, and as I'm always late in getting ready, my roommate entertained him while I finished getting ready. And by "entertained" him, I mean gave him the third degree, but hey, that's her job. We had a drink or two with her at home, then we had a long dinner at a restaurant called Mixto in my neighborhood. All in all, a good date. Melissa came downstairs this morning (she went to bed early last night) and just goes "Good Morning, Molly, I LIKED him. Really. Like way more than anyone else that you've introduced me to. Hell, I like him more than anyone whose come to this house for EITHER of us." I laughed at that one. Granted, only two other guys have ever met her through going out on a date with me anyway, but I'll take it. And no, she won't go stealing anything. We may share clothes and gallons of milk, but definitely not dates.
Well, that's it for that story...I had to rewrite that a few times to make sure that everything I just wrote was:
a) from my perspective only.
b) not revealing of anything about him, and
c) everything he already knows anyway.
He's seen this and knows I write it (has actually complimented me on my writing, which is nice to hear) - and though I try to live and/or document my life in the same way regardless of who knows I'm writing about it, I DO, believe it or not, strive to protect anonymity of those who are not as public as some of us who have these blogs, and wouldn't want anyone to go figuring things out that I was thinking exclusively from my writing. If I've got the kahonays to reveal things about the way I feel about specific people online, I try to make sure it's something I've already had the nerve to tell directly to them. Seems to be a good way to operate.
I sat around and was exhausted yesterday - I didn't get much sleep on Thursday night. My roommate and I are kind of sick of the fact that we seem to be the most out-of-shape people we know, so we decided to go walking on the Schuylkill River Trail first thing today. It's about 15 blocks from our house, then we walked all the way to the Art Museum and past Boathouse Row on the trail. By my estimation, we walked a total of 7 miles. I'll be hurting tomorrow, but we had a great time enjoying the day.
Tomorrow we're taking off for the Jersey Shore, and I REALLY need to pack. My roommate's grandmother has a house for the week and Melissa is taking the whole week off and randomly invited me. While I feel a little guilty tagging along for the whole week, we're excited. We're going to Ocean City, where I have yet to go down at the shore. It's one of the more classic shore towns, with a boardwalk and all that stuff. Last summer, I lived in Avalon, which is only a short distance away, and we're probably going to go out a few nights in Sea Isle City. I know, I've bitched about New Jersey quite a bit, but I DO enjoy the shore. Even though I haven't been in ten years, I'd love to surf again at least once before I leave.
In "I can't believe I'm related to someone who can accomplish this sort of thing" news, my cousin Kate is due to blow everyone out of the water when she takes the Delaware Bar Exam on Monday through Wednesday of this week, capping off her success as a Cum Laude graduate from Law School in May. Send good thoughts her way, she's quite stressed about it. I have no idea how people do that kind of thing. Taking my financial and insurance licensing exams was difficult enough - I have no idea how I'd pass the bar, or for that matter, law school. But I AM looking forward to getting my cousin and bestest friend in the whole world back where she belongs - out playing with me. She's thinking of going down and taking the Cape May-Lewes Ferry over to Cape May, NJ and meeting us at the shore, or we might do the reverse and go see her. I'm very excited - I haven't been to my favorite place on earth yet. Yes, I'm speaking of The Rusty Rudder. You just haven't experienced the good life til you've been there. So it'll be a pretty neat week, I hope we'll have a whole helluva lot of fun. Good Luck, Kate!
In the spirit of the shore, I give you my favorite cover band, Mr Greengenes, at Sea Isle's Ocean Drive, affectionately known as The OD, home of the world-famous No Shower Happy Hour. If anyone's up at the shore or over at the Beach in Delaware, give a shout.
Well, that's it for that story...I had to rewrite that a few times to make sure that everything I just wrote was:
a) from my perspective only.
b) not revealing of anything about him, and
c) everything he already knows anyway.
He's seen this and knows I write it (has actually complimented me on my writing, which is nice to hear) - and though I try to live and/or document my life in the same way regardless of who knows I'm writing about it, I DO, believe it or not, strive to protect anonymity of those who are not as public as some of us who have these blogs, and wouldn't want anyone to go figuring things out that I was thinking exclusively from my writing. If I've got the kahonays to reveal things about the way I feel about specific people online, I try to make sure it's something I've already had the nerve to tell directly to them. Seems to be a good way to operate.
I sat around and was exhausted yesterday - I didn't get much sleep on Thursday night. My roommate and I are kind of sick of the fact that we seem to be the most out-of-shape people we know, so we decided to go walking on the Schuylkill River Trail first thing today. It's about 15 blocks from our house, then we walked all the way to the Art Museum and past Boathouse Row on the trail. By my estimation, we walked a total of 7 miles. I'll be hurting tomorrow, but we had a great time enjoying the day.
Tomorrow we're taking off for the Jersey Shore, and I REALLY need to pack. My roommate's grandmother has a house for the week and Melissa is taking the whole week off and randomly invited me. While I feel a little guilty tagging along for the whole week, we're excited. We're going to Ocean City, where I have yet to go down at the shore. It's one of the more classic shore towns, with a boardwalk and all that stuff. Last summer, I lived in Avalon, which is only a short distance away, and we're probably going to go out a few nights in Sea Isle City. I know, I've bitched about New Jersey quite a bit, but I DO enjoy the shore. Even though I haven't been in ten years, I'd love to surf again at least once before I leave.
In "I can't believe I'm related to someone who can accomplish this sort of thing" news, my cousin Kate is due to blow everyone out of the water when she takes the Delaware Bar Exam on Monday through Wednesday of this week, capping off her success as a Cum Laude graduate from Law School in May. Send good thoughts her way, she's quite stressed about it. I have no idea how people do that kind of thing. Taking my financial and insurance licensing exams was difficult enough - I have no idea how I'd pass the bar, or for that matter, law school. But I AM looking forward to getting my cousin and bestest friend in the whole world back where she belongs - out playing with me. She's thinking of going down and taking the Cape May-Lewes Ferry over to Cape May, NJ and meeting us at the shore, or we might do the reverse and go see her. I'm very excited - I haven't been to my favorite place on earth yet. Yes, I'm speaking of The Rusty Rudder. You just haven't experienced the good life til you've been there. So it'll be a pretty neat week, I hope we'll have a whole helluva lot of fun. Good Luck, Kate!
In the spirit of the shore, I give you my favorite cover band, Mr Greengenes, at Sea Isle's Ocean Drive, affectionately known as The OD, home of the world-famous No Shower Happy Hour. If anyone's up at the shore or over at the Beach in Delaware, give a shout.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
What the hell have you been doing, Molly?
I talked to my friend Marisa veeeeerrrrry early this morning, who was drunk-dialing me on the way home from a happy-hour-that-turned-into-insanity night. Center City's Summer in the City has a way of doing that to you, if I remember correctly. She was intoxicatingly screaming on the phone to me that she hadn't heard from me, and that she knew I was sick but it "was no excuse" for not joining her out. I asked how she knew I was sick, she said she read this blog. Oh yeah. I forgot. People read this. Anyway, Marisa said something that someone else told me...
"Well, I know how you feel about stupid stuff, but what are you DOING? Like what's going ON?"
So I give you an UPDATE. In list form, because I like numbering things. Some very random stuff about my life lately:
1. I found a box in which to ship Caroline's portrait to Meghan, pending finishing touches, varnish, and Meghan's OK. It only took me 2 1/2 years to do it. Owen's locked in as soon as he's old enough, and I was actually worried about Canson discontinuing the color of paper I did Caroline's on, so I bought a few pieces in that color and labeled it "OWEN" so the portraits are consistent.
2. I have completely reworked about half a dozen paintings. The one of the poppies? Unrecognizable now, but has a better focal point. More use of negative space.
3. I lost 7 lbs since the last time I weighed myself, in Lynchburg. I actually think it was probably more, as I probably gained a few more in the 'burg (I ate more junk than a person ever should) and I literally couldn't eat a THING for almost a week here. But yeah, want a new "best diet ever"? STAPH INFECTION. I'm kidding, y'all. It ain't worth it, and I didn't even want to lose the weight.
4. I'm actually re-thinking the whole "move home" thing. A bunch of reasons behind it - it's not exactly a place where I'd have more than say 4 friends to go hang out with, I'm afraid I'd be an even bigger hermit than I already am, and oh yeah, big blowout last week with my dad, who currently isn't speaking to me. Long story on that one. But I know that come October 15, I either have to go find a sublease or move SOMEwhere, I can't afford this place on my own. I'm kind of open to just about anything. Could move WAY south, like Miami or California...I was always jealous that Maverick got to go to law school in Malibu and he thinks I'd dig it. Could consider another big city where I don't have to own a car, like New York or Chicago. I've always wanted to live in New York. And I miss Boston some days. And I DO have that obsession with Texas. And Angie keeps wanting me to move to Washington DC and live with her, as we are, in fact, the last two single girls on earth. Hell, I even tossed about the idea of moving to Italy and teaching art, although I don't know the language and I'm not actually crazy about those Italian men. Who knows.
5. I thought for about five crazy seconds about cutting all my hair off. Then I remembered how every time I've cut it, I've instantly wanted to grow it out again. I need some sort of change though. Maybe I'll get an eyebrow wax tomorrow. I am befuddled as to why I continually procrastinate getting one - I live RIGHT next door to the salon.
6. I bought two mats for watercolor paintings, three sheets of pastel paper, three drawing pencils, two pieces of compressed white charcoal, one piece of sepia chalk, and one piece of really good portrait paper (those are for the people who pay the big bucks) at Pearl yesterday. I meant to spend $5. I ended up spending $24. Dammit.
7. I don't really miss most of the stuff I used to buy when I had a lot of money. I have clothes, and I enjoy the ones I have, borrow from my roommate and/or cousin, alter old ones, etc to make my way through the place. Yes, I dropped a few on the Gap sale, but it literally was like $10 for the dress I bought. But about a week ago, I was in a store down the street from me and randomly decided to try on a pair of jeans. They fit like you wouldn't BELIEVE. Any woman out there, regardless of her size or shape, knows the horror of pants-shopping or jeans-shopping, so when you find a good one, the heavens open up. But unfortunately, my wallet couldn't open up as well. Well, it can open, but the only thing you'll find is pocket lint. All of a sudden, I got REALLY depressed about not having money. Like I wanted to cry. And all I've done for a week is covet these damn jeans. I want a fairy godmother - because if those jeans replaced my paint covered shorts, even until midnight, I'd be a happy lady. If that happened, I might be wandering around a bar with no pants on after midnight, in which case I'm guessing there's be a few happy fellas, as well. Size 24, Bibbity Bobbity Boo. True Religion, if you're listening for reviewers, send me those jeans and I will write you the best review ever about how I came back to wearing your jeans.
8. I've noticed that Philadelphia has an odd obsession with its TV news personalities. I'll tell you one day about my theory about Channel 6's Erin O'Hearn. It's not bad, she actually looks like a nice girl. But based on the stories that the newsanchors generate about themselves in this city, all Philadelphians kind of suspect scandal the minute someone hits the airwaves. But speaking of, does anyone remember a reporter on CBS in Atlanta named Lori Wilson? She's up here now, she hosts the local 10! show, which is the only morning show I can tolerate. She talks about Atlanta a lot, and it's kind of weird, because I've kind of thought sometimes about going down to the studio for one of the tapings (they give away tickets to go) and saying "hey, I was in Atlanta when you were there!" I think she'd think I'm crazy.
9. I've been going to Starbucks some mornings and getting a New York Times with my coffee. I know I've posted about newspapers before - I'm a newspaper aficionado and have gone toward being a newspaper SNOB. I love the New York Times. Love it. It's written for people with a brain in their heads. Even though I like my "mental junk food" - the ones that have all those fun stories like "Atlantans' Cutest Pets!", yes, I'm talking about YOU, AJC - I like a newspaper that actually takes the time to delve pretty deep into issues and current events. I think I learn something every day from it. Now before you go screaming at me for talking smack about the South, please know that:
a) I am a PROUD graduate of the Henry W. Grady School of Journalism.
b) Henry Grady is probably rolling over in his grave at the sight of the AJC now. I'd be willing to bet that Lewis Grizzard is too.
c) I do not consider all Southern papers "as amusing" as the AJC. For the record, I have been a fan of the commitment to investigative journalism that the Charlotte Observer has shown for years. I even applaud my own hometown paper - The Lynchburg News & Daily Advance, for at least TRYING.
So I've begun to even feel this way about the Inquirer. I don't like how they seem to gloss over, yet still sensationalize the real stories in Philly. But anyway, I'd love to subscribe to the NYT if I wasn't afraid that some a-hole would steal it from my front step every morning.
10. I have a date tonight. Just got a text message about it now, actually. Nice-looking, very polite, very nice, from Virginia originally. That's all I'll give you right now. Since I'll get this question after this post anyway, I've had a few people ask me in recent weeks "oh what happened with the other dude, in Charlotte?"...you tell me, I have no idea. He just dropped off the face of the Earth. I don't really care, it was no skin off my back when I heard some backstory. And a REALLY weird connection, CharlotteDude and my ex have a mutual friend - other than myself - on Facebook. Since my ex also lives in Charlotte (from what I hear - we don't talk), I had a shuddering thought that it was entirely possible that the two of them have run into each other. Since my ex is that guy that all straight men get the man-crush on (he's the total guys' guy, the one that organizes the bachelor party, the one like Vince Vaughn in any movie, the one that rarely has a girlfriend but the ladies just come around when he's around), CharlotteDude would probably think he's the coolest cat ever. I'm still getting chills from the thought. God, it's a small world.
11. Remember how that woman in the 1990's had a condition in which she had Grand Mal seizures when she heard the voice of Entertainment Tonight's Mary Hart? I think I'm psychosomatically getting to be that way about Rachael Ray. Except I get overwhelming rage, not seizures. I just turned the channel away from her (I was watching Regis and Kelly beforehand, and really, Kelly's bad enough), because I looked up and realized she was talking to THE HONEY JAR.
12. It might be a good thing I have a date tonight. Because Coldplay is in town. I can't afford tickets, unfortunately. I purely say that it might be a good thing because I'm sure Chris Martin might have put me on that "list" that says "do not allow within 500 feet of the man at the piano."
"Well, I know how you feel about stupid stuff, but what are you DOING? Like what's going ON?"
So I give you an UPDATE. In list form, because I like numbering things. Some very random stuff about my life lately:
1. I found a box in which to ship Caroline's portrait to Meghan, pending finishing touches, varnish, and Meghan's OK. It only took me 2 1/2 years to do it. Owen's locked in as soon as he's old enough, and I was actually worried about Canson discontinuing the color of paper I did Caroline's on, so I bought a few pieces in that color and labeled it "OWEN" so the portraits are consistent.
2. I have completely reworked about half a dozen paintings. The one of the poppies? Unrecognizable now, but has a better focal point. More use of negative space.
3. I lost 7 lbs since the last time I weighed myself, in Lynchburg. I actually think it was probably more, as I probably gained a few more in the 'burg (I ate more junk than a person ever should) and I literally couldn't eat a THING for almost a week here. But yeah, want a new "best diet ever"? STAPH INFECTION. I'm kidding, y'all. It ain't worth it, and I didn't even want to lose the weight.
4. I'm actually re-thinking the whole "move home" thing. A bunch of reasons behind it - it's not exactly a place where I'd have more than say 4 friends to go hang out with, I'm afraid I'd be an even bigger hermit than I already am, and oh yeah, big blowout last week with my dad, who currently isn't speaking to me. Long story on that one. But I know that come October 15, I either have to go find a sublease or move SOMEwhere, I can't afford this place on my own. I'm kind of open to just about anything. Could move WAY south, like Miami or California...I was always jealous that Maverick got to go to law school in Malibu and he thinks I'd dig it. Could consider another big city where I don't have to own a car, like New York or Chicago. I've always wanted to live in New York. And I miss Boston some days. And I DO have that obsession with Texas. And Angie keeps wanting me to move to Washington DC and live with her, as we are, in fact, the last two single girls on earth. Hell, I even tossed about the idea of moving to Italy and teaching art, although I don't know the language and I'm not actually crazy about those Italian men. Who knows.
5. I thought for about five crazy seconds about cutting all my hair off. Then I remembered how every time I've cut it, I've instantly wanted to grow it out again. I need some sort of change though. Maybe I'll get an eyebrow wax tomorrow. I am befuddled as to why I continually procrastinate getting one - I live RIGHT next door to the salon.
6. I bought two mats for watercolor paintings, three sheets of pastel paper, three drawing pencils, two pieces of compressed white charcoal, one piece of sepia chalk, and one piece of really good portrait paper (those are for the people who pay the big bucks) at Pearl yesterday. I meant to spend $5. I ended up spending $24. Dammit.
7. I don't really miss most of the stuff I used to buy when I had a lot of money. I have clothes, and I enjoy the ones I have, borrow from my roommate and/or cousin, alter old ones, etc to make my way through the place. Yes, I dropped a few on the Gap sale, but it literally was like $10 for the dress I bought. But about a week ago, I was in a store down the street from me and randomly decided to try on a pair of jeans. They fit like you wouldn't BELIEVE. Any woman out there, regardless of her size or shape, knows the horror of pants-shopping or jeans-shopping, so when you find a good one, the heavens open up. But unfortunately, my wallet couldn't open up as well. Well, it can open, but the only thing you'll find is pocket lint. All of a sudden, I got REALLY depressed about not having money. Like I wanted to cry. And all I've done for a week is covet these damn jeans. I want a fairy godmother - because if those jeans replaced my paint covered shorts, even until midnight, I'd be a happy lady. If that happened, I might be wandering around a bar with no pants on after midnight, in which case I'm guessing there's be a few happy fellas, as well. Size 24, Bibbity Bobbity Boo. True Religion, if you're listening for reviewers, send me those jeans and I will write you the best review ever about how I came back to wearing your jeans.
8. I've noticed that Philadelphia has an odd obsession with its TV news personalities. I'll tell you one day about my theory about Channel 6's Erin O'Hearn. It's not bad, she actually looks like a nice girl. But based on the stories that the newsanchors generate about themselves in this city, all Philadelphians kind of suspect scandal the minute someone hits the airwaves. But speaking of, does anyone remember a reporter on CBS in Atlanta named Lori Wilson? She's up here now, she hosts the local 10! show, which is the only morning show I can tolerate. She talks about Atlanta a lot, and it's kind of weird, because I've kind of thought sometimes about going down to the studio for one of the tapings (they give away tickets to go) and saying "hey, I was in Atlanta when you were there!" I think she'd think I'm crazy.
9. I've been going to Starbucks some mornings and getting a New York Times with my coffee. I know I've posted about newspapers before - I'm a newspaper aficionado and have gone toward being a newspaper SNOB. I love the New York Times. Love it. It's written for people with a brain in their heads. Even though I like my "mental junk food" - the ones that have all those fun stories like "Atlantans' Cutest Pets!", yes, I'm talking about YOU, AJC - I like a newspaper that actually takes the time to delve pretty deep into issues and current events. I think I learn something every day from it. Now before you go screaming at me for talking smack about the South, please know that:
a) I am a PROUD graduate of the Henry W. Grady School of Journalism.
b) Henry Grady is probably rolling over in his grave at the sight of the AJC now. I'd be willing to bet that Lewis Grizzard is too.
c) I do not consider all Southern papers "as amusing" as the AJC. For the record, I have been a fan of the commitment to investigative journalism that the Charlotte Observer has shown for years. I even applaud my own hometown paper - The Lynchburg News & Daily Advance, for at least TRYING.
So I've begun to even feel this way about the Inquirer. I don't like how they seem to gloss over, yet still sensationalize the real stories in Philly. But anyway, I'd love to subscribe to the NYT if I wasn't afraid that some a-hole would steal it from my front step every morning.
10. I have a date tonight. Just got a text message about it now, actually. Nice-looking, very polite, very nice, from Virginia originally. That's all I'll give you right now. Since I'll get this question after this post anyway, I've had a few people ask me in recent weeks "oh what happened with the other dude, in Charlotte?"...you tell me, I have no idea. He just dropped off the face of the Earth. I don't really care, it was no skin off my back when I heard some backstory. And a REALLY weird connection, CharlotteDude and my ex have a mutual friend - other than myself - on Facebook. Since my ex also lives in Charlotte (from what I hear - we don't talk), I had a shuddering thought that it was entirely possible that the two of them have run into each other. Since my ex is that guy that all straight men get the man-crush on (he's the total guys' guy, the one that organizes the bachelor party, the one like Vince Vaughn in any movie, the one that rarely has a girlfriend but the ladies just come around when he's around), CharlotteDude would probably think he's the coolest cat ever. I'm still getting chills from the thought. God, it's a small world.
11. Remember how that woman in the 1990's had a condition in which she had Grand Mal seizures when she heard the voice of Entertainment Tonight's Mary Hart? I think I'm psychosomatically getting to be that way about Rachael Ray. Except I get overwhelming rage, not seizures. I just turned the channel away from her (I was watching Regis and Kelly beforehand, and really, Kelly's bad enough), because I looked up and realized she was talking to THE HONEY JAR.
12. It might be a good thing I have a date tonight. Because Coldplay is in town. I can't afford tickets, unfortunately. I purely say that it might be a good thing because I'm sure Chris Martin might have put me on that "list" that says "do not allow within 500 feet of the man at the piano."
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Bad weather means Molly gets nervous about going up to meet St Peter...
After a 6-day heat wave, Mother Nature finally decided to bring the temperatures down...in the form of VIOLENT thunderstorms. I rarely see hail up here, but we had quarter-size hailstones outside. I shot this right between spurts of hail, but it was still really nasty. It reminds me of a funny story involving storms. Maybe my confession shall even absolve me.
I seem to know a lot of people that LOVE watching thunderstorms, but I have never gotten into it. The whole lightning mess, combined with drenching rain and the fact that Colonel Mustard is terrified...it just isn't fun to me. I grew up in a pre-Civil War house that seemed to shake and move every time we got a storm, and we really had no neighbors, so it was basically one big Nature Fury show. Pretty scary. Plus I remember a couple years back where a girl at a Dave Matthews Band concert was struck by lightning and she wasn't even on the top tier of the arena - like it SOUGHT her out.
I don't think that girl got anything other than the shit-end of a random-selection stick, but if that whole "God throws lightning bolts at the real heathens" thing is true, I am screwed. My friend Megan (no, not Holbrook, a different one, a really close friend from just after college) had me be her son's godmother a last year, and I thought I did everything I was supposed to do, which largely consisted of going over to where they live in Northern Virginia, holding the baby in the front of the church and standing up for way too long. After the service, Megan's husband, Jim, came up to me and said "Megan forgot to do this before, but you need to fill something out in the church office, nothing big, just telling where you went to church and got your first holy communion and stuff like that."
"...uhhh, I don't remember my first communion, but I got confirmed somewhere around 13 at Peakland Church. I don't think we call it Holy Communion like y'all do."
"do you remember who the priest was?"
"well, ours are called pastors, I think"
Suddenly Jim gives me an "OH SHIT" look.
"Molly, you ARE Catholic, right?"
"No, but my mom was raised Episcopal, and that's like Catholic-Lite. All the ceremony and half the guilt."
He did not find this as funny as I did.
"Oh no..."
Unbeknownst to me, the godparents are supposed to be Catholic, too. How am I supposed to know this? I barely even knew any Catholic people until I got to college. Because he didn't want anyone to freak out, the godfather jumped in and told me what to put on the form that basically made the whole thing kosher...pardon the pun. Since Jim didn't want to cause a scene, have to do the Christening all over again or more importantly, have Megan find out, he looked the other way while I filled out the form with the aid of the godfather. For the record, God, Jim took no part in lying to the church, he didn't even handle the form containing my littlewhitelie. Should, God Forbid, Megan and Jim should get hit by a bus tomorrow, I promise to raise their children in the Catholic church, because really, I don't care. If they make me, I'll even convert. Whatever. I thought it was more of a ceremonial duty, sort of symbolically demonstrating the whole "it takes a village to raise a child" mentality. Apparently NOT.
That afternoon, despite having exactly zero forecast for it, I saw the most violent thunderstorm EVER. I was having some beers with the godfather and a couple of other friends and he said "hey, maybe it's God throwing a bolt at you for lying to the church. That's an offense worthy of excommunication..." Well, so is premarital sex, saying GD or hey-zeus cree-sto and for that matter, speeding, but I DID feel quite guilty about it. Megan eventually found out, and said she really didn't care anyway as they hadn't been to church since the christening anyway.
But yeah, I don't take risks with lightning anymore. Because I could be laying in a ditch in the lowest point of the land, far away from any tree, and Johnny NeverLiesToPriests could be standing on a radio tower holding a magnetic golf club in the air, but that lightning bolt would be headed directly for me.
I seem to know a lot of people that LOVE watching thunderstorms, but I have never gotten into it. The whole lightning mess, combined with drenching rain and the fact that Colonel Mustard is terrified...it just isn't fun to me. I grew up in a pre-Civil War house that seemed to shake and move every time we got a storm, and we really had no neighbors, so it was basically one big Nature Fury show. Pretty scary. Plus I remember a couple years back where a girl at a Dave Matthews Band concert was struck by lightning and she wasn't even on the top tier of the arena - like it SOUGHT her out.
I don't think that girl got anything other than the shit-end of a random-selection stick, but if that whole "God throws lightning bolts at the real heathens" thing is true, I am screwed. My friend Megan (no, not Holbrook, a different one, a really close friend from just after college) had me be her son's godmother a last year, and I thought I did everything I was supposed to do, which largely consisted of going over to where they live in Northern Virginia, holding the baby in the front of the church and standing up for way too long. After the service, Megan's husband, Jim, came up to me and said "Megan forgot to do this before, but you need to fill something out in the church office, nothing big, just telling where you went to church and got your first holy communion and stuff like that."
"...uhhh, I don't remember my first communion, but I got confirmed somewhere around 13 at Peakland Church. I don't think we call it Holy Communion like y'all do."
"do you remember who the priest was?"
"well, ours are called pastors, I think"
Suddenly Jim gives me an "OH SHIT" look.
"Molly, you ARE Catholic, right?"
"No, but my mom was raised Episcopal, and that's like Catholic-Lite. All the ceremony and half the guilt."
He did not find this as funny as I did.
"Oh no..."
Unbeknownst to me, the godparents are supposed to be Catholic, too. How am I supposed to know this? I barely even knew any Catholic people until I got to college. Because he didn't want anyone to freak out, the godfather jumped in and told me what to put on the form that basically made the whole thing kosher...pardon the pun. Since Jim didn't want to cause a scene, have to do the Christening all over again or more importantly, have Megan find out, he looked the other way while I filled out the form with the aid of the godfather. For the record, God, Jim took no part in lying to the church, he didn't even handle the form containing my littlewhitelie. Should, God Forbid, Megan and Jim should get hit by a bus tomorrow, I promise to raise their children in the Catholic church, because really, I don't care. If they make me, I'll even convert. Whatever. I thought it was more of a ceremonial duty, sort of symbolically demonstrating the whole "it takes a village to raise a child" mentality. Apparently NOT.
That afternoon, despite having exactly zero forecast for it, I saw the most violent thunderstorm EVER. I was having some beers with the godfather and a couple of other friends and he said "hey, maybe it's God throwing a bolt at you for lying to the church. That's an offense worthy of excommunication..." Well, so is premarital sex, saying GD or hey-zeus cree-sto and for that matter, speeding, but I DID feel quite guilty about it. Megan eventually found out, and said she really didn't care anyway as they hadn't been to church since the christening anyway.
But yeah, I don't take risks with lightning anymore. Because I could be laying in a ditch in the lowest point of the land, far away from any tree, and Johnny NeverLiesToPriests could be standing on a radio tower holding a magnetic golf club in the air, but that lightning bolt would be headed directly for me.
101 Goals progress...
I should update a little on my goals. Here we go...goals in red are complete. The goals in blue are in progress - if they have a timeline, for example.
Health & Fitness
1. abstain from smoking cigarettes for 365 days in a row.
2. complete a marathon
3. Eat exclusively organic for two weeks in a row.
4. Drink only water for one month.
5. See the dentist and have a clean bill of health twice in one year’s time.
6. Do the neti-pot every day for six months straight.
7. Floss every day for one year.
8. Ride a bike 500 miles in one month.
9. Meditate every day for one year.
10. abstain from the tanning bed for 365 days in a row.
11. Get my eyes checked and obtain correct glasses and/or contacts
12. Work out every day for 60 days straight.
13. Do three chin-ups or pull-ups without assistance.
Home & Garden
14. Sell my old Insurance Books.
15. Find out if the microwave is fixable, If it is, fix it.
16. Refinish my wooden antique furniture.
17. Repaint every room in whatever house I live in.
18. Eliminate every “catch-all” junk drawer, basket, folder, bin and box in my house.
19. Plant and raise a garden, even if it’s a window garden.
20. sell my old clothes in the basement to consignment
Financial
21. Turn a profit in art and writing.
22. Pay my dues to my sorority for two years straight.
23. Donate 10% of one year’s income.
24. Pay every bill on time for one year.
25. Get my credit to where I COULD qualify for a home loan.
26. Balance my checkbook on the computer every week for two years.
27. Do my own taxes correctly, but have them double-checked professionally.
28. Save $1000 and don’t touch it until the end of the 1001 days.
29. Become 100% financially independent.
30. Buy one horrendously expensive purse with money that I have earned through art & writing after all that month’s bills are paid.
Personal
31. Get my grandmother’s story on paper.
32. Buy a Wii.
33. Learn to knit and finish one item. Completed - 6/15/08. It was an Ipod koozie-looking thing. It counts.
34. Make a quilt.
35. Create and sew an outfit on my own.
36. Make something out of www.bitchyinthecity.com with Celeste.
37. Plant a tree
38. Walk into my favorite stylist and allow them to do ANYTHING they want to my hair.
39. Get on Jeopardy.
40. Design and make a gingerbread house.
41. Make every Christmas present I give without giving presents that suck or leaving anyone out.
42. Take a class on something I know little to nothing about.
43. Write down my life story.
44. Have a tasteful nude photograph taken while I like my body.
45. Train Colonel Mustard to walk off the leash without fear of him running into traffic
46. Meet Dolly Parton.
Self Improvement
47. Donate a day of time to a charity
48. Learn to write HTML & CSS code.
49. Recycle everything possible for three months straight.
50. Use non-disposable bags 50 times instead of plastic or paper.
51. Create ten recipes on my own.
52. Clean out my computer clutter and back everything up outside of the Time Capsule.
53. Give a wedding gift in the appropriate gift-giving window.
54. Learn to speak a foreign language.
55. Stop using a computer for one week straight (the work is still possible, just requires some forethought!)
56. Make a list of five things I am grateful for every day for a year.
Adventure
57. Take a day trip to New York by myself.
58. Hike a mountain.
59. Drive across the country.
60. See Paris, France.
61. Go to a foreign country by myself.
62. Go on a girls’ vacation.
Family
63. Have an argument with a family member without crying.
64. Send birthday cards to every brother, sister, aunt, uncle, cousin, grandparent, close friend and child of the above for one year.
65. Send my mother on a vacation to Greece.
66. Scan pictures of our childhood onto a disk for my mother, father, brothers and sisters.
67. Take all of my brothers and sisters to lunch at the same time.
68. Mow my mother’s lawn for free.
Entertainment
69. See all Oscar-winning movies for best picture.
70. Read the Bible, cover to cover.
71. Complete scrapbook of Italy and Greece trip
72. Go to a movie by myself.
73. Read 100 best book of all time
Professional
74. Update my art resume.
75. Copyright my existing work
76. Create a sculpture.
77. Write a business plan.
78. Create and print postcards and business cards.
79. Do creative sparks every day for a year.
80. Complete an Egg Tempera portrait.
81. Teach someone to draw.
82. Open an Etsy shop.
83. Create a mixed-media piece.
84. Take a figure drawing & critique class.
85. Complete series on quitting your job to do what you love.
86. Complete a self-portrait in oil.
87. Take a watercolor class.
88. Phase out crappy art supplies.
89. 50,000 RSS subscribers.
90. Publish something in a magazine.
91. Publish something in book form.
92. Sell a painting with no commission and no discount.
93. Organize and run a one-woman show.
94. Organize blog for effectiveness – put art on art, etc.
95. Start a business.
96. Print and frame a collection of 30 black and white photographs
97. complete and publish my website
98. Create 75 paintings of fine art – no commissions, no portraits.
99. Write a novel
100. Have my portfolio reviewed by a non-related professional whose opinion I value.
101. Meet every professional deadline for one year.
Health & Fitness
1. abstain from smoking cigarettes for 365 days in a row.
2. complete a marathon
3. Eat exclusively organic for two weeks in a row.
4. Drink only water for one month.
5. See the dentist and have a clean bill of health twice in one year’s time.
6. Do the neti-pot every day for six months straight.
7. Floss every day for one year.
8. Ride a bike 500 miles in one month.
9. Meditate every day for one year.
10. abstain from the tanning bed for 365 days in a row.
11. Get my eyes checked and obtain correct glasses and/or contacts
12. Work out every day for 60 days straight.
13. Do three chin-ups or pull-ups without assistance.
Home & Garden
14. Sell my old Insurance Books.
15. Find out if the microwave is fixable, If it is, fix it.
16. Refinish my wooden antique furniture.
17. Repaint every room in whatever house I live in.
18. Eliminate every “catch-all” junk drawer, basket, folder, bin and box in my house.
19. Plant and raise a garden, even if it’s a window garden.
20. sell my old clothes in the basement to consignment
Financial
21. Turn a profit in art and writing.
22. Pay my dues to my sorority for two years straight.
23. Donate 10% of one year’s income.
24. Pay every bill on time for one year.
25. Get my credit to where I COULD qualify for a home loan.
26. Balance my checkbook on the computer every week for two years.
27. Do my own taxes correctly, but have them double-checked professionally.
28. Save $1000 and don’t touch it until the end of the 1001 days.
29. Become 100% financially independent.
30. Buy one horrendously expensive purse with money that I have earned through art & writing after all that month’s bills are paid.
Personal
31. Get my grandmother’s story on paper.
32. Buy a Wii.
33. Learn to knit and finish one item. Completed - 6/15/08. It was an Ipod koozie-looking thing. It counts.
34. Make a quilt.
35. Create and sew an outfit on my own.
36. Make something out of www.bitchyinthecity.com with Celeste.
37. Plant a tree
38. Walk into my favorite stylist and allow them to do ANYTHING they want to my hair.
39. Get on Jeopardy.
40. Design and make a gingerbread house.
41. Make every Christmas present I give without giving presents that suck or leaving anyone out.
42. Take a class on something I know little to nothing about.
43. Write down my life story.
44. Have a tasteful nude photograph taken while I like my body.
45. Train Colonel Mustard to walk off the leash without fear of him running into traffic
46. Meet Dolly Parton.
Self Improvement
47. Donate a day of time to a charity
48. Learn to write HTML & CSS code.
49. Recycle everything possible for three months straight.
50. Use non-disposable bags 50 times instead of plastic or paper.
51. Create ten recipes on my own.
52. Clean out my computer clutter and back everything up outside of the Time Capsule.
53. Give a wedding gift in the appropriate gift-giving window.
54. Learn to speak a foreign language.
55. Stop using a computer for one week straight (the work is still possible, just requires some forethought!)
56. Make a list of five things I am grateful for every day for a year.
Adventure
57. Take a day trip to New York by myself.
58. Hike a mountain.
59. Drive across the country.
60. See Paris, France.
61. Go to a foreign country by myself.
62. Go on a girls’ vacation.
Family
63. Have an argument with a family member without crying.
64. Send birthday cards to every brother, sister, aunt, uncle, cousin, grandparent, close friend and child of the above for one year.
65. Send my mother on a vacation to Greece.
66. Scan pictures of our childhood onto a disk for my mother, father, brothers and sisters.
67. Take all of my brothers and sisters to lunch at the same time.
68. Mow my mother’s lawn for free.
Entertainment
69. See all Oscar-winning movies for best picture.
70. Read the Bible, cover to cover.
71. Complete scrapbook of Italy and Greece trip
72. Go to a movie by myself.
73. Read 100 best book of all time
Professional
74. Update my art resume.
75. Copyright my existing work
76. Create a sculpture.
77. Write a business plan.
78. Create and print postcards and business cards.
79. Do creative sparks every day for a year.
80. Complete an Egg Tempera portrait.
81. Teach someone to draw.
82. Open an Etsy shop.
83. Create a mixed-media piece.
84. Take a figure drawing & critique class.
85. Complete series on quitting your job to do what you love.
86. Complete a self-portrait in oil.
87. Take a watercolor class.
88. Phase out crappy art supplies.
89. 50,000 RSS subscribers.
90. Publish something in a magazine.
91. Publish something in book form.
92. Sell a painting with no commission and no discount.
93. Organize and run a one-woman show.
94. Organize blog for effectiveness – put art on art, etc.
95. Start a business.
96. Print and frame a collection of 30 black and white photographs
97. complete and publish my website
98. Create 75 paintings of fine art – no commissions, no portraits.
99. Write a novel
100. Have my portfolio reviewed by a non-related professional whose opinion I value.
101. Meet every professional deadline for one year.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Truth is SO Much Stranger than Fiction...in the ER.
My roommate got home on Thursday and told me what is quite possibly...
THE CRAZIEST STORY EVER. It supercedes the troll story, for anyone who knows that. I won't even type the troll story, for the record, because it seriously might bring cops around. But anyway.
My roommate works at a local hospital in the Trauma/Emergency Department. She's always good for a story - with an 80-bed emergency room directly off a hugely busy interstate serving three states, there's always crazy stuff going on. On Thursday, she got a doozie.
A patient is taken in with bruises and typical bar-fight type injuries and unconscious due to drugs and alcohol. Melissa did the normal stuff when they get a roughed-up junkie - fix 'em up and let them sleep it off - just get them stabilized so they're not...like, dying or something. She notices that he's handcuffed to the bed and asks the police officers - who escorted Mr. Black&Blue to the hospital - what happened.
And here's where it gets weird.
"Dexter" (the patient) invites homeboy over to his house, where they partake in drinking many beers and a little too much of the brown acid. Dexter has had a history of mental problems.
Sidebar 1:
If you decide that hallucinogenic drugs are a pastime you'd like to indulge, pick your dance partners carefully, if you know what I mean. It's generally not a good idea to pick someone who, oh, I don't know, might or might not have spent some time in a straitjacket.
(end sidebar)
When homeboy and Dexter are extremely drunk/seeing fractal patterns, Dexter either hits the world's worst LSD trip or his psychotic tendencies really come out. Dexter HOGTIES homeboy up, chains him to the couch, gags him, and goes downstairs.
Of course homeboy wakes up and freaks out. Keeps trying to get out. Dexter comes back and says to him that he "just needs to die". Enter larger freakout from hog-tied homeboy. Dexter goes back downstairs, and homeboy keeps hearing clanging, hammering, etc. Finally, Dexter's sister comes home and finds homeboy tied up on the couch.
Sidebar 2:
dilemma:
Sister sees a man tied up on the couch in her brother's house. Knowing that her brother has mental problems, should she untie homeboy? Or does she consider that he might, for example, have been an intruder, tied up for self-defense reasons? Or does she skip the whole thing and call the police, perhaps giving people time to carry out whatever they might be planning? Hmmm.
(end sidebar)
Sister decides to call out her brother's name, and can't find him anywhere. When she goes downstairs to the basement, she finds THE MOST DISGUSTING, HORRIBLEST, CREEPIEST SCENE THAT HAS EVER EXISTED.
Dexter has cut open and laid trash bags all over the floor, walls and ceiling, and in the middle of the room, has laid out knives, bolt-cutters, a hacksaw, plastic ties, rubber gloves, battery acid, a hatchet, wires...the list goes on. Dexter is clearly out of it and asks his sister very calmly if she knows where any duct tape is, because he needs to go kill his friend.
Sister turns around, goes upstairs, calmly unties Dexter's friend, and says in a quiet, emphatic voice "Get out of here NOW. My brother is trying to kill you."
Don't have to tell homeboy twice. He's out like jean shorts.
Sister then goes and gets her other brother, NotDexter and tells him what she found. NotDexter and Sister go back to the house to attempt to restrain Dexter and have him committed. Dexter then attacks the sister, at which point the police were called. After a significant tussle (hence Dexter's injuries), he is arrested and taken to the hospital.
So my roommate goes "okay, so I'm going to call Psych and get him in up there?" when she hears the story from the police.
"No, do not call them. He's not going to a psychiatric ward. He is going to JAIL for a VERY LONG time."
Shortly thereafter, Dexter wakes up. Looks confused.
Nurses: "do you know who you are?"
Dexter: "yes"
N: "do you know where you are?"
D: "I'm guessing it's a hospital?"
N: "yes, do you know why you're here?"
D: "no, I don't...was I in a fight?"
N: "sort of"
Dexter goes to lift his hand and notices it is handcuffed to the bed.
D: "oh god did I get arrested?"
N: "yes you did"
D: "is it bad?"
Nurse doesn't have to say anything.
Dexter: "uh-oh."
Uh-oh indeed. Uh-oh Spaghetti-O's.
Turns out that Dexter has been studying serial killers and methods for some time and had all these fantasies about killing people and how to get away with it - things like trashbags covering the walls to prevent blood spatter. Apparently he had watched a few Law & Order/CSI/Dexter episodes, but had neglected to do one thing.
Make sure he wasn't expecting a visit from the fam.
No matter how crazy my work can ever get, it will simply never measure up to tales from the Emergency Room.
THE CRAZIEST STORY EVER. It supercedes the troll story, for anyone who knows that. I won't even type the troll story, for the record, because it seriously might bring cops around. But anyway.
My roommate works at a local hospital in the Trauma/Emergency Department. She's always good for a story - with an 80-bed emergency room directly off a hugely busy interstate serving three states, there's always crazy stuff going on. On Thursday, she got a doozie.
A patient is taken in with bruises and typical bar-fight type injuries and unconscious due to drugs and alcohol. Melissa did the normal stuff when they get a roughed-up junkie - fix 'em up and let them sleep it off - just get them stabilized so they're not...like, dying or something. She notices that he's handcuffed to the bed and asks the police officers - who escorted Mr. Black&Blue to the hospital - what happened.
And here's where it gets weird.
"Dexter" (the patient) invites homeboy over to his house, where they partake in drinking many beers and a little too much of the brown acid. Dexter has had a history of mental problems.
Sidebar 1:
If you decide that hallucinogenic drugs are a pastime you'd like to indulge, pick your dance partners carefully, if you know what I mean. It's generally not a good idea to pick someone who, oh, I don't know, might or might not have spent some time in a straitjacket.
(end sidebar)
When homeboy and Dexter are extremely drunk/seeing fractal patterns, Dexter either hits the world's worst LSD trip or his psychotic tendencies really come out. Dexter HOGTIES homeboy up, chains him to the couch, gags him, and goes downstairs.
Of course homeboy wakes up and freaks out. Keeps trying to get out. Dexter comes back and says to him that he "just needs to die". Enter larger freakout from hog-tied homeboy. Dexter goes back downstairs, and homeboy keeps hearing clanging, hammering, etc. Finally, Dexter's sister comes home and finds homeboy tied up on the couch.
Sidebar 2:
dilemma:
Sister sees a man tied up on the couch in her brother's house. Knowing that her brother has mental problems, should she untie homeboy? Or does she consider that he might, for example, have been an intruder, tied up for self-defense reasons? Or does she skip the whole thing and call the police, perhaps giving people time to carry out whatever they might be planning? Hmmm.
(end sidebar)
Sister decides to call out her brother's name, and can't find him anywhere. When she goes downstairs to the basement, she finds THE MOST DISGUSTING, HORRIBLEST, CREEPIEST SCENE THAT HAS EVER EXISTED.
Dexter has cut open and laid trash bags all over the floor, walls and ceiling, and in the middle of the room, has laid out knives, bolt-cutters, a hacksaw, plastic ties, rubber gloves, battery acid, a hatchet, wires...the list goes on. Dexter is clearly out of it and asks his sister very calmly if she knows where any duct tape is, because he needs to go kill his friend.
Sister turns around, goes upstairs, calmly unties Dexter's friend, and says in a quiet, emphatic voice "Get out of here NOW. My brother is trying to kill you."
Don't have to tell homeboy twice. He's out like jean shorts.
Sister then goes and gets her other brother, NotDexter and tells him what she found. NotDexter and Sister go back to the house to attempt to restrain Dexter and have him committed. Dexter then attacks the sister, at which point the police were called. After a significant tussle (hence Dexter's injuries), he is arrested and taken to the hospital.
So my roommate goes "okay, so I'm going to call Psych and get him in up there?" when she hears the story from the police.
"No, do not call them. He's not going to a psychiatric ward. He is going to JAIL for a VERY LONG time."
Shortly thereafter, Dexter wakes up. Looks confused.
Nurses: "do you know who you are?"
Dexter: "yes"
N: "do you know where you are?"
D: "I'm guessing it's a hospital?"
N: "yes, do you know why you're here?"
D: "no, I don't...was I in a fight?"
N: "sort of"
Dexter goes to lift his hand and notices it is handcuffed to the bed.
D: "oh god did I get arrested?"
N: "yes you did"
D: "is it bad?"
Nurse doesn't have to say anything.
Dexter: "uh-oh."
Uh-oh indeed. Uh-oh Spaghetti-O's.
Turns out that Dexter has been studying serial killers and methods for some time and had all these fantasies about killing people and how to get away with it - things like trashbags covering the walls to prevent blood spatter. Apparently he had watched a few Law & Order/CSI/Dexter episodes, but had neglected to do one thing.
Make sure he wasn't expecting a visit from the fam.
No matter how crazy my work can ever get, it will simply never measure up to tales from the Emergency Room.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Philadelphia heat is a different, more miserable heat than you will ever know.
I'm up on time for once so I'm going to get my calamine-and-neosporin-covered self back into the swing of things on here. Very slow weekend for me, no going out and a good retreat into work that I missed out on while wiped out from this leprosy-looking thing.
First of all, seriously, I know I've been bitchin' about the itchin' lately but it LITERALLY consumes 70% of my thoughts. They warned me that when they start to heal, they're going to itch like hell, and they weren't kidding. I'm doing all I can to avoid scratching - a steady diet of Benadryl, the aforementioned calamine lotion, cutting all of my nails down to the point where I can't get any effective scratching out of them, even putting socks on my hands when I sleep. Yes, I'm apparently doing it in my sleep. Even though they assured me that there is absolutely nothing crawling under my skin or feasting on my flesh other than run-of-the-mill staph bacteria, my body betrays me and is paranoid in thinking otherwise. When I told a friend of mine about it, she told me that it's actually very normal after having an allergic reaction or a bad case of bug bites. Seems it's called delusional parasitosis, which has a less than lovely ring to it, in my opinion. Haley knew about it because she works for a drug rehab center and said it tends to be a prevalent side effect for Crystal Meth users. I'm just in fantastic company, as evidenced by these photos she sent me, which made me laugh a bit. At any rate, I feel like I now understand why Leprosy Colonies existed - even if it's not contagious, any sort of skin problem is just horribly embarrassing - I don't want to go outside if I can't wear something that covers my arms and legs for fear that someone would see me. Horribly vain of me, but hey, I now have an extra ounce of compassion for people with bad skin. I'm thanking my lucky stars that I never had any acne worse than what . I dated a guy in college who had really bad skin when he was in high school, and I never realized how tough it was for kids like that until I heard him talk about it. He went on that crazy drug Accutane, as did my friend Sarah when she got a sudden and severe case of acne in college, and it just kind of hit me about how scary it is to have something wrong with your skin - so much so that people risk the horrible side effects of that drug. When I mentioned to the dermatologist that the black-box warnings on Accutane might make me think twice before having my kid take it, she just looked at me and said that she could probably have an entire practice just centered around people who want to be on Accutane. Yikes. Thanks for good genes, Mom.
Change of topic:
IT'S SO DAMN HOT. I woke up at 8 am and it was already 93 degrees. Heat index of satanic proportion. When I lived in Boston, I used to get a little high and mighty when people complained about it being hot outside - because as a Southerner, I KNOW heat. That wasn't heat. I even survived a summer in Italy and Greece - with air conditioning being a rarity - and only complained about it once. I was on an overcrowded 3 hour train from Athens to Piraeus while sitting right behind a window that would only open 5 inches - just enough for thick diesel smoke exhaust from the engine to pour in. Even my sister complained about that one, and she's lived in some pretty uncomfortable digs. I thought I was a trooper in the heat, however. I thought that two Atlanta and four Athens, Georgia summers had adequately prepared me to not be miserable in heat.
That being said, Philly heat is just DIFFERENT. We have only about eight trees left standing in this concrete jungle, so any "shade" we get is from buildings. Buildings that are, by design, radiating heat. When I worked in the corporate world and took the train to work every day, I only walked a total of five blocks in my commute, but I always brought an extra camisole to work in the summer - sometimes an extra shirt as well - because by the time I got into the office, I was drenched in sweat. Combine that with the basic industrial city stench and the world's largest collection of body-odoriffic homeless people, and heat just gets different. I don't have to wear a suit (wearing jeans for the bug bites and a polo shirt today) but really - it is HOT. CVS is across the street, but I don't have the energy yet to brave the heat to walk over there. Starbucks is out of the question, it's a full block and a half away. I could die walking that far on day 4 of a heat wave.
First of all, seriously, I know I've been bitchin' about the itchin' lately but it LITERALLY consumes 70% of my thoughts. They warned me that when they start to heal, they're going to itch like hell, and they weren't kidding. I'm doing all I can to avoid scratching - a steady diet of Benadryl, the aforementioned calamine lotion, cutting all of my nails down to the point where I can't get any effective scratching out of them, even putting socks on my hands when I sleep. Yes, I'm apparently doing it in my sleep. Even though they assured me that there is absolutely nothing crawling under my skin or feasting on my flesh other than run-of-the-mill staph bacteria, my body betrays me and is paranoid in thinking otherwise. When I told a friend of mine about it, she told me that it's actually very normal after having an allergic reaction or a bad case of bug bites. Seems it's called delusional parasitosis, which has a less than lovely ring to it, in my opinion. Haley knew about it because she works for a drug rehab center and said it tends to be a prevalent side effect for Crystal Meth users. I'm just in fantastic company, as evidenced by these photos she sent me, which made me laugh a bit. At any rate, I feel like I now understand why Leprosy Colonies existed - even if it's not contagious, any sort of skin problem is just horribly embarrassing - I don't want to go outside if I can't wear something that covers my arms and legs for fear that someone would see me. Horribly vain of me, but hey, I now have an extra ounce of compassion for people with bad skin. I'm thanking my lucky stars that I never had any acne worse than what . I dated a guy in college who had really bad skin when he was in high school, and I never realized how tough it was for kids like that until I heard him talk about it. He went on that crazy drug Accutane, as did my friend Sarah when she got a sudden and severe case of acne in college, and it just kind of hit me about how scary it is to have something wrong with your skin - so much so that people risk the horrible side effects of that drug. When I mentioned to the dermatologist that the black-box warnings on Accutane might make me think twice before having my kid take it, she just looked at me and said that she could probably have an entire practice just centered around people who want to be on Accutane. Yikes. Thanks for good genes, Mom.
Change of topic:
IT'S SO DAMN HOT. I woke up at 8 am and it was already 93 degrees. Heat index of satanic proportion. When I lived in Boston, I used to get a little high and mighty when people complained about it being hot outside - because as a Southerner, I KNOW heat. That wasn't heat. I even survived a summer in Italy and Greece - with air conditioning being a rarity - and only complained about it once. I was on an overcrowded 3 hour train from Athens to Piraeus while sitting right behind a window that would only open 5 inches - just enough for thick diesel smoke exhaust from the engine to pour in. Even my sister complained about that one, and she's lived in some pretty uncomfortable digs. I thought I was a trooper in the heat, however. I thought that two Atlanta and four Athens, Georgia summers had adequately prepared me to not be miserable in heat.
That being said, Philly heat is just DIFFERENT. We have only about eight trees left standing in this concrete jungle, so any "shade" we get is from buildings. Buildings that are, by design, radiating heat. When I worked in the corporate world and took the train to work every day, I only walked a total of five blocks in my commute, but I always brought an extra camisole to work in the summer - sometimes an extra shirt as well - because by the time I got into the office, I was drenched in sweat. Combine that with the basic industrial city stench and the world's largest collection of body-odoriffic homeless people, and heat just gets different. I don't have to wear a suit (wearing jeans for the bug bites and a polo shirt today) but really - it is HOT. CVS is across the street, but I don't have the energy yet to brave the heat to walk over there. Starbucks is out of the question, it's a full block and a half away. I could die walking that far on day 4 of a heat wave.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Diagnosis!
I can't believe I got in and out of Penn Hospital in 2 1/2 hours. Last time I went to the Emergency Room, I was there from 8:30 pm until 4:00 am.
Diagnosis: Spider bite of unknown origin, cellulitis & severe allergic reaction to one or both. They can't tell what kind of spider bit me (I KNOW it's not a recluse, I got bit by one of those before and it was all necrotic and gross) but they gave me an epinephrine injection, some anti-venom, an anti-biotic and prednisone. The cellulitis (basically infected bites) came from me scratching the darn things as well as whatever it was dumping an assload of bacteria on me when it bit me. 15 times. The only thing they can surmise is that either I sat in a freshly-hatched nest of them (where, I have no idea - lets be honest, I live in an urban city) or that the same bug just crawled all over me and had a nice little meal of my flesh. The reaction either came from the venom or from the bacteria I got dumped with. Either way, my final diagnosis was stupidity for not getting it looked at by a non-free-clinic doctor the first, second or even fourth time I got the stupid reaction. My entire wardrobe is now being washed in hot water (again) in case there's some sort of eggs in it (EWWWW) and I have to follow up and go to the allergy consultants tomorrow.
I also finally got myself an EpiPen. The doctor asked if I had ever had a severe reaction before or had family history, and when I said yes (to bee stings) and yes (my mom is allergic to bees as well and my grandmother is all but homebound with allergies and asthma), she looked at me like she was about to write "has three heads and spews green vomit" on my chart. Her exact words?
"Molly, I don't need to tell you that you shouldn't be walking around in this city, not to mention rural Virginia, without an injection kit. That's how people die of reactions."
I know. I was crazy. I figured I'd used the old one circa a billion years ago and have enough sense to stay away from bee's nests. Not to mention drunk people seem to be fascinated with an auto injector when they find out there's one in my possession. For those of you who didn't witness the incident at the Five Points house senior year, for the record, do NOT dare certain people(oh, I don't know, YOU, Mav) to give it to themselves. They'll shoot toxic waste into their thigh if they've been hanging around a keg since 1 pm. Try explaining how your old kit got used to UGA's Health Center without evidence that you were treated. You'll get a nice "this is a controlled substance, you could get into a lot of trouble for this" lecture that just might make you miss your Media Planning quiz.
So anyway. Yes, I'm fine. A little tired from 3 Benadryl and an Epinephrine injection, but otherwise A-OK.
I DID, however, get quite a show while I was in the ER. I saw the following:
1. An old man who had no idea where he was and his good-for-nothing daughter who was pissed off that Pop was keeping her from her beauty sleep because "you'll be fine in the morning". For the record, the man was suffering from dementia, and in a moment of clarity, had the presence of mind to request to go to the hospital because his leg was swollen with some sort of diabetic thing to the point of where I could hear the doctor go "oh my GOD that's huge". He kept having WWII flashbacks and his daughter kept telling him to shut up. I felt like walking over and reminding her that if it weren't for her father storming the beaches at Normandy, she'd be speaking German right now. But I restrained myself.
2. An Asian fellow came in right behind me and had clearly been in a bar fight. His story changed from "a car accident" to "I fell on the edge of the sink" to "I hit myself in the face". My male nurse yelled at him to "man up." He barely spoke English, and I'm guessing that his language-learning method was much the same of 8th graders - he could pronounce the F-bomb and call his girlfriend a C-word, but the rest was very fuzzy. He wanted to go home, but they said he had to get CAT scans. Why he wanted to go home when his eye was so swollen that the doctor couldn't even get his contact lens out was beyond me.
3. A very common sighting at Emergency Rooms: people who bring their entire family to the hospital for a minor problem. Seriously, if you are ever hurt, please - RESIST the urge to clutter up the waiting room. Hospitals are some of the dirtiest, most germ-infested places you will ever enter. For your OWN health, stay home and wait for your aunt/cousin/whatever to get discharged. Do not bring a CHILD to a hospital unless they have a dying relative, is a patient themselves or is over the age of 7 and is welcoming a new sibling. If you need to go to the ER, bring ONE representative/person with you. I guarantee you, if you need to go to the Emergency Room, the neighbors will keep an eye on your kids.
4. There is not ONE healthy choice in the vending machines. And we wonder why America is the fattest nation on Earth.
5. The Gatekeeper Theory: be nice to the front desk, the security guard, every nurse you meet, and your technician. They control when you see the doctor, and they can disable your call button.
6. While I appreciate that we, as a society, want to catch substance and domestic abuse at its first sign, I do not need Psych to visit me to assure them for the fifth time that no - no one has been hurting me. I also do not need to talk to anyone about a drinking problem since my large bruise was due to a drunken mishap. I'm 28. I'm single. It's summer. I found a shopping cart. End of story. Yes, they still gave me the domestic abuse and Alcoholics Anonymous 1-800 numbers. Keep in mind - I WAS SOBER tonight and was NOT there about the bruise.
7. There was poop on the wall. I have now visited TWO hospitals in the Philadelphia area and spotted poop on the wall. Again, germs. They're everywhere in hospitals. MRSA is everywhere.
8. They never asked for my ID or insurance information. I'm thinking I'm going to wait to see IF a bill shows up and THEN submit my info.
9. There was NO George Clooney in this ER. No Noah Wyle. No Croatian hottie named Luka either. Dammit.
Diagnosis: Spider bite of unknown origin, cellulitis & severe allergic reaction to one or both. They can't tell what kind of spider bit me (I KNOW it's not a recluse, I got bit by one of those before and it was all necrotic and gross) but they gave me an epinephrine injection, some anti-venom, an anti-biotic and prednisone. The cellulitis (basically infected bites) came from me scratching the darn things as well as whatever it was dumping an assload of bacteria on me when it bit me. 15 times. The only thing they can surmise is that either I sat in a freshly-hatched nest of them (where, I have no idea - lets be honest, I live in an urban city) or that the same bug just crawled all over me and had a nice little meal of my flesh. The reaction either came from the venom or from the bacteria I got dumped with. Either way, my final diagnosis was stupidity for not getting it looked at by a non-free-clinic doctor the first, second or even fourth time I got the stupid reaction. My entire wardrobe is now being washed in hot water (again) in case there's some sort of eggs in it (EWWWW) and I have to follow up and go to the allergy consultants tomorrow.
I also finally got myself an EpiPen. The doctor asked if I had ever had a severe reaction before or had family history, and when I said yes (to bee stings) and yes (my mom is allergic to bees as well and my grandmother is all but homebound with allergies and asthma), she looked at me like she was about to write "has three heads and spews green vomit" on my chart. Her exact words?
"Molly, I don't need to tell you that you shouldn't be walking around in this city, not to mention rural Virginia, without an injection kit. That's how people die of reactions."
I know. I was crazy. I figured I'd used the old one circa a billion years ago and have enough sense to stay away from bee's nests. Not to mention drunk people seem to be fascinated with an auto injector when they find out there's one in my possession. For those of you who didn't witness the incident at the Five Points house senior year, for the record, do NOT dare certain people(oh, I don't know, YOU, Mav) to give it to themselves. They'll shoot toxic waste into their thigh if they've been hanging around a keg since 1 pm. Try explaining how your old kit got used to UGA's Health Center without evidence that you were treated. You'll get a nice "this is a controlled substance, you could get into a lot of trouble for this" lecture that just might make you miss your Media Planning quiz.
So anyway. Yes, I'm fine. A little tired from 3 Benadryl and an Epinephrine injection, but otherwise A-OK.
I DID, however, get quite a show while I was in the ER. I saw the following:
1. An old man who had no idea where he was and his good-for-nothing daughter who was pissed off that Pop was keeping her from her beauty sleep because "you'll be fine in the morning". For the record, the man was suffering from dementia, and in a moment of clarity, had the presence of mind to request to go to the hospital because his leg was swollen with some sort of diabetic thing to the point of where I could hear the doctor go "oh my GOD that's huge". He kept having WWII flashbacks and his daughter kept telling him to shut up. I felt like walking over and reminding her that if it weren't for her father storming the beaches at Normandy, she'd be speaking German right now. But I restrained myself.
2. An Asian fellow came in right behind me and had clearly been in a bar fight. His story changed from "a car accident" to "I fell on the edge of the sink" to "I hit myself in the face". My male nurse yelled at him to "man up." He barely spoke English, and I'm guessing that his language-learning method was much the same of 8th graders - he could pronounce the F-bomb and call his girlfriend a C-word, but the rest was very fuzzy. He wanted to go home, but they said he had to get CAT scans. Why he wanted to go home when his eye was so swollen that the doctor couldn't even get his contact lens out was beyond me.
3. A very common sighting at Emergency Rooms: people who bring their entire family to the hospital for a minor problem. Seriously, if you are ever hurt, please - RESIST the urge to clutter up the waiting room. Hospitals are some of the dirtiest, most germ-infested places you will ever enter. For your OWN health, stay home and wait for your aunt/cousin/whatever to get discharged. Do not bring a CHILD to a hospital unless they have a dying relative, is a patient themselves or is over the age of 7 and is welcoming a new sibling. If you need to go to the ER, bring ONE representative/person with you. I guarantee you, if you need to go to the Emergency Room, the neighbors will keep an eye on your kids.
4. There is not ONE healthy choice in the vending machines. And we wonder why America is the fattest nation on Earth.
5. The Gatekeeper Theory: be nice to the front desk, the security guard, every nurse you meet, and your technician. They control when you see the doctor, and they can disable your call button.
6. While I appreciate that we, as a society, want to catch substance and domestic abuse at its first sign, I do not need Psych to visit me to assure them for the fifth time that no - no one has been hurting me. I also do not need to talk to anyone about a drinking problem since my large bruise was due to a drunken mishap. I'm 28. I'm single. It's summer. I found a shopping cart. End of story. Yes, they still gave me the domestic abuse and Alcoholics Anonymous 1-800 numbers. Keep in mind - I WAS SOBER tonight and was NOT there about the bruise.
7. There was poop on the wall. I have now visited TWO hospitals in the Philadelphia area and spotted poop on the wall. Again, germs. They're everywhere in hospitals. MRSA is everywhere.
8. They never asked for my ID or insurance information. I'm thinking I'm going to wait to see IF a bill shows up and THEN submit my info.
9. There was NO George Clooney in this ER. No Noah Wyle. No Croatian hottie named Luka either. Dammit.
Ewwww...the bug bite saga continues.
Ugh. The whatever-it-is has gotten worse. I finally got ahold of a temporary health insurance card which is good for two reasons:
1. I can get looked at by someone other than the public health department. At the health department, there's a weird mix of people - rich, poor, of every background and class. It's also mostly children. Probably because kids get sick more often than adults and there's more resources to treat sick uninsured children, and probably because parents will ignore their own symptoms for a long time, however their children are a different story. It's quite strange, but it makes you realize how incredibly shameful it is that we live in the richest nation on earth and there's at least 6 million that we know of who have no access to health care. At any rate, I don't know if you know this, but if you're a 28-year-old single woman who walks into a pay-what-you-can clinic, they pretty much just test you for STD's and then give you an antibiotic and a decent guess at what you have if they get no positive results. They're understaffed, underfunded and overworked, so if you're walking, they're pretty much at a loss for any big level of care. While the docs there are real doctors, I need to see someone who KNOWS what the hell is wrong with me.
2. I can fill whatever prescription they give me, provided I have the copay. This is a good thing.
So yeah, the bug-bites-slash-allergic-reaction has only proceeded to get worse and worse. I have been feeling overall lethargic, sick, dizzy and nauseous, not to mention a whole buncha irritable. I dare someone to say something like "get off your ass, Molly". I'll get my last ounce of energy together and slap you and then burst into tears. My friend Kelly took one look at it and said "if it's not spider bites, you're either highly allergic to whatEVER it is and/or it's getting infected really quickly." I don't remember any spiders in our house, but I know I'm allergic to whatever it is - I've had severe hives, itching, swelling and my throat narrowing a good four times in two days.
I called my doctor today with my new health insurance information, told her my symptoms and she told me the worst thing EVER - I gotta go to the ER. She doesn't think it's that bad, but the office doesn't have the ability to test whatever it is without risking some sort of anaphylaxic reaction that she doesn't want to happen in her office - i.e. if I were allergic to peanuts like that new wave of kids are, she'd be worried I'd stop breathing if she tried to figure it out by exposing me to the peanuts. Great, love that she's all careful, but it means a $100 copay that I simply don't have.
So I'm off to Penn Hospital to sit amongst the Gunshot Wounds, ear infections and other bug-bitees. Who'da thunk it.
I have a picture of my legs and arms to show you, but I'm thinking it's too much tissue decay and gross stuff for most of you, so I'll spare you.
On a bright note...that show "Hopkins" on ABC? My friend Mary is on it...look for a red-headed nurse in the transplant ward that kinda looks like Grace from Will and Grace. I just saw a couple of minutes of it tonight and am hoping it's on a podcast somewhere, I haven't gotten the other episodes.
1. I can get looked at by someone other than the public health department. At the health department, there's a weird mix of people - rich, poor, of every background and class. It's also mostly children. Probably because kids get sick more often than adults and there's more resources to treat sick uninsured children, and probably because parents will ignore their own symptoms for a long time, however their children are a different story. It's quite strange, but it makes you realize how incredibly shameful it is that we live in the richest nation on earth and there's at least 6 million that we know of who have no access to health care. At any rate, I don't know if you know this, but if you're a 28-year-old single woman who walks into a pay-what-you-can clinic, they pretty much just test you for STD's and then give you an antibiotic and a decent guess at what you have if they get no positive results. They're understaffed, underfunded and overworked, so if you're walking, they're pretty much at a loss for any big level of care. While the docs there are real doctors, I need to see someone who KNOWS what the hell is wrong with me.
2. I can fill whatever prescription they give me, provided I have the copay. This is a good thing.
So yeah, the bug-bites-slash-allergic-reaction has only proceeded to get worse and worse. I have been feeling overall lethargic, sick, dizzy and nauseous, not to mention a whole buncha irritable. I dare someone to say something like "get off your ass, Molly". I'll get my last ounce of energy together and slap you and then burst into tears. My friend Kelly took one look at it and said "if it's not spider bites, you're either highly allergic to whatEVER it is and/or it's getting infected really quickly." I don't remember any spiders in our house, but I know I'm allergic to whatever it is - I've had severe hives, itching, swelling and my throat narrowing a good four times in two days.
I called my doctor today with my new health insurance information, told her my symptoms and she told me the worst thing EVER - I gotta go to the ER. She doesn't think it's that bad, but the office doesn't have the ability to test whatever it is without risking some sort of anaphylaxic reaction that she doesn't want to happen in her office - i.e. if I were allergic to peanuts like that new wave of kids are, she'd be worried I'd stop breathing if she tried to figure it out by exposing me to the peanuts. Great, love that she's all careful, but it means a $100 copay that I simply don't have.
So I'm off to Penn Hospital to sit amongst the Gunshot Wounds, ear infections and other bug-bitees. Who'da thunk it.
I have a picture of my legs and arms to show you, but I'm thinking it's too much tissue decay and gross stuff for most of you, so I'll spare you.
On a bright note...that show "Hopkins" on ABC? My friend Mary is on it...look for a red-headed nurse in the transplant ward that kinda looks like Grace from Will and Grace. I just saw a couple of minutes of it tonight and am hoping it's on a podcast somewhere, I haven't gotten the other episodes.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
I know, I know...
It's been forEVER. I'm horrible. I'm bad.
I've had a rough week.
A week ago, I was stupidly drunk and broke my elbow. Again. I don't have to have a cast this time (it was very small and there's some tissue and fluid that had kind of built itself around my elbow from the last time that protected it a little), but it still hurts. I will write more on it later, but put it this way - I have learned that shopping carts may be fun, but their power needs to be RESPECTED.
My brother Parker came to visit for the weekend, whereupon 2 Harringtons and a few others consumed two cases of Pabst Blue Ribbon. I was already on this train after the elbow incident, but I am laying off the sauce for a WHILE.
I've been working my butt off.
And I had a bit of a scare. Wednesday night, I was on the phone with my friend Beth and suddenly felt a little...odd. I got off the phone with her, and about ten minutes later, my entire body was CONSUMED with a severe allergic reaction to SOMEthing. I hadn't eaten anything since lunch, but even then, there was nothing I had never eaten before. I'm telling you, it was BAD. Like those kids you get warned about with peanut butter bad. My whole body swelled, I got hives like you read about, had labored and shallow breathing, and my throat started to narrow significantly. After tearing the house apart, I took THREE Benadryl tablets. I almost called my roommate, but decided against it because by the time she got home from work, it would probably die down or I'd be dead anyway. I called Cara, who seems to know protocol for stuff like that given the fact that she's had minimal first aid training in flight attendant school. She yelled at me a little bit for not having an EpiPen, and then she told me to go smoke a cigarette or find a nicotine patch. Before you yell at me for smoking, it WAS kind of good advice. Cigarettes, in a pinch, are minor broncho-dialators, and it calms nerves in a chemical way. Since an allergic reaction is basically your body over-reacting to whatever allergen you've encountered (not the actual allergen itself), I complied. After about 30 minutes, the Benadryl and nicotine kicked in and my skin settled down. A little bit. Now I'm left with about 15-20 HUGE welts all over my arms and legs. Have no idea what caused it. I've only had anything like that in two different situations - whenever I get stung by a bee (which is why I should have had an EpiPen - and in case anyone ever is with me and I get stung by one, YES, I am very allergic), and ONCE when I was in Venice, Italy and got bitten by some rare but insanely allergic-reaction-inducing mosquito. Since I couldn't recall being stung, the doctor surmised that it was some sort of mosquito.
So that's kind of it, it's been a LONG week!
Cleaned the house from top to bottom this weekend (my roommate and I decided that if there's any sort of bug in the house that caused the reaction, it might be good to wash EVERYTHING in ultra-hot water and get some Borax out), and other than that, I've been taking it somewhat easy. Sorry, no hugely fun stories from the single life. After all, I look like I've got a big old case of leprosy due to this bug-bite saga.
I've had a rough week.
A week ago, I was stupidly drunk and broke my elbow. Again. I don't have to have a cast this time (it was very small and there's some tissue and fluid that had kind of built itself around my elbow from the last time that protected it a little), but it still hurts. I will write more on it later, but put it this way - I have learned that shopping carts may be fun, but their power needs to be RESPECTED.
My brother Parker came to visit for the weekend, whereupon 2 Harringtons and a few others consumed two cases of Pabst Blue Ribbon. I was already on this train after the elbow incident, but I am laying off the sauce for a WHILE.
I've been working my butt off.
And I had a bit of a scare. Wednesday night, I was on the phone with my friend Beth and suddenly felt a little...odd. I got off the phone with her, and about ten minutes later, my entire body was CONSUMED with a severe allergic reaction to SOMEthing. I hadn't eaten anything since lunch, but even then, there was nothing I had never eaten before. I'm telling you, it was BAD. Like those kids you get warned about with peanut butter bad. My whole body swelled, I got hives like you read about, had labored and shallow breathing, and my throat started to narrow significantly. After tearing the house apart, I took THREE Benadryl tablets. I almost called my roommate, but decided against it because by the time she got home from work, it would probably die down or I'd be dead anyway. I called Cara, who seems to know protocol for stuff like that given the fact that she's had minimal first aid training in flight attendant school. She yelled at me a little bit for not having an EpiPen, and then she told me to go smoke a cigarette or find a nicotine patch. Before you yell at me for smoking, it WAS kind of good advice. Cigarettes, in a pinch, are minor broncho-dialators, and it calms nerves in a chemical way. Since an allergic reaction is basically your body over-reacting to whatever allergen you've encountered (not the actual allergen itself), I complied. After about 30 minutes, the Benadryl and nicotine kicked in and my skin settled down. A little bit. Now I'm left with about 15-20 HUGE welts all over my arms and legs. Have no idea what caused it. I've only had anything like that in two different situations - whenever I get stung by a bee (which is why I should have had an EpiPen - and in case anyone ever is with me and I get stung by one, YES, I am very allergic), and ONCE when I was in Venice, Italy and got bitten by some rare but insanely allergic-reaction-inducing mosquito. Since I couldn't recall being stung, the doctor surmised that it was some sort of mosquito.
So that's kind of it, it's been a LONG week!
Cleaned the house from top to bottom this weekend (my roommate and I decided that if there's any sort of bug in the house that caused the reaction, it might be good to wash EVERYTHING in ultra-hot water and get some Borax out), and other than that, I've been taking it somewhat easy. Sorry, no hugely fun stories from the single life. After all, I look like I've got a big old case of leprosy due to this bug-bite saga.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
SINCE NO ONE GUESSED IT...
Remember how I held a little contest about the magazine I started subscribing to?
No one guessed it.
So Davis, Party of 3 wins it because she reminded me of it.
The prize? A subscription to said magazine. I mentioned it in a past post and the mention got picked up on by someone remotely related to my editor. He got me some gift subscriptions as prizes, mainly because....he was born in Texas.
That's right, folks. The correct answer?
TEXAS MONTHLY.
Yes, I'm obsessed with Texas. I love that whole darn state. If you put a man in a pair of Wranglers and a Stetson, I dare say I wouldn't kick him outta bed for eatin' crackers. And for the past ten years or so, they've had a magazine for folks JUST LIKE ME.
The cover article? All about...COWBOYS. They just OOZE Americana to me. But its largely a photographic essay, so it's completely clean, Mom.
The movie that was passed around at the sorority house? DEBBIE DOES DALLAS. It was taped on the end of Rain Woman. Rain Woman was gross, but Debbie Does Dallas held off for a good 70 minutes before the "real" stuff got to happenin'. It IS just about the "Citizen Kane" of the porn business. It turned 30 this month.
Anyway, Carrie said "hey Molly, what was that magazine?" first. So the Davis Family gets a subscription. I promise, Carrie - I've never ever ever seen an article about porn other than this month. Every other month is completely clean - seriously, People and US Weekly are WAY more trashy than TM and it really IS good reading.
Carrie, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys...
Waylon Jennings, where have you gone?
No one guessed it.
So Davis, Party of 3 wins it because she reminded me of it.
The prize? A subscription to said magazine. I mentioned it in a past post and the mention got picked up on by someone remotely related to my editor. He got me some gift subscriptions as prizes, mainly because....he was born in Texas.
That's right, folks. The correct answer?
TEXAS MONTHLY.
Yes, I'm obsessed with Texas. I love that whole darn state. If you put a man in a pair of Wranglers and a Stetson, I dare say I wouldn't kick him outta bed for eatin' crackers. And for the past ten years or so, they've had a magazine for folks JUST LIKE ME.
The cover article? All about...COWBOYS. They just OOZE Americana to me. But its largely a photographic essay, so it's completely clean, Mom.
The movie that was passed around at the sorority house? DEBBIE DOES DALLAS. It was taped on the end of Rain Woman. Rain Woman was gross, but Debbie Does Dallas held off for a good 70 minutes before the "real" stuff got to happenin'. It IS just about the "Citizen Kane" of the porn business. It turned 30 this month.
Anyway, Carrie said "hey Molly, what was that magazine?" first. So the Davis Family gets a subscription. I promise, Carrie - I've never ever ever seen an article about porn other than this month. Every other month is completely clean - seriously, People and US Weekly are WAY more trashy than TM and it really IS good reading.
Carrie, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys...
Waylon Jennings, where have you gone?
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Finishing the sentence...
Found this in a magazine, I will fill it in myself to kill some time.
The house I grew up in... was an old house built in 1820, had a fireplace in almost every single room, was very busy, very loud and probably haunted.
When I was a child I wanted to be... an artist. My grandmother is one, and I wanted to be one as well for as long as I can remember. I used to go to her studio when I was young and I felt completely at home.
The moment that changed me for ever... in retrospect, probably the minute I set foot on the UGA campus for the first time. I didn't think I would change that much, but I don't think I even recognize that kid who left Lynchburg in 1997.
My greatest inspiration... is probably the myself that I'd like to be. I haven't really wanted to emulate any one person in particular, but I've always had an idea of where I want to go in life.
My real-life villain... a composite of those people which Julia Cameron calls "the censor" - those that make you think "wait, I can't do this"...sometimes its a family member, sometimes it's a friend, sometimes it's an enemy, sometimes it's a gut feeling that you're trying to stifle. The irony is that sometimes it's also my greatest motivator. You just have to acknowledge the censor and make it work for you.
If I could change one thing about myself... I'd stop cutting in mid-sentence all the time. I talk too much and interrupt when I'm super-excited about the conversation, but I know it pisses people off and I don't want it to affect me like that. Give other people a chance, Molly, you might learn something.
At night I dream of... strange things. I usually forget them the minute I wake up. I really should start keeping a journal by my bed again and just take the first ten minutes when I wake up to write - it really does spur creativity and start the day off on the right foot.
What I see when I look in the mirror... I'm pretty satisfied, and I think I've gotten better with age. But I always see room for improvement, and right now it's the fact that I desperately need a haircut.
My style icon.... just one? Since I'm the one answering the questions, I get one current and one from years past. Current - Sienna Miller. Very easy-going, bohemian style without looking like a dirty hippie and makes blonde hair and blue eyes fun again. Past - Grace Kelly.
My favourite item of clothing... Men's Hanes tank-tops, in the 3pack. They're so comfy, you can layer them and they look decent if you dress them up a little.
I wish I'd never worn... those stupid silver beads that every sorority girl wore back in the late 90's. I just hate them now.
It's not fashionable but I like... boot-cut jeans. I like the skinny cuts too, but I can't get out of bootcuts for long.
You wouldn't know it but I'm very good at... History. Ok, some people know it, I have a huge obsession with history. I am that dork that wants to read the signs on the roadside. I usually don't say anything, and I think I'm going to stop more often and see them.
You may not know it but I'm no good at... higher-level math. I still think maybe I should go audit a calculus class or something - it's not that I CAN'T do it, it's that it actually takes effort and studying. I was a student that just "got" everything else right off the bat, but math is challenging. Probably why I like it a lot.
All my money goes on... art supplies.
If I have time to myself... I paint and draw in front of the TV. Love it.
I drive/ride... I walk a lot. I think it's healthy and great for the environment and I feel better about myself for having done it. I am currently trying to find a Jeep Wrangler, however to actually drive when I have to do so.
My house is... lived-in. I love old furniture, lots of books, and a use for everything. It may not be un-cluttered, but I hate the "right out of a catalog" look - I like my house to say things about me and my personality.
My most valuable possession is... my easel. It was my grandmother's and it's big and beautiful and I don't think you could go and buy it off a rack anywhere.
My favorite building... in Philly: the Art Museum. Old, grand and welcoming. In Boston: any old Comm Ave rowhouse. In Atlanta: the Swan Coach house. In Athens: the UGA president's home. In Lynchburg: the Point of Honor.
Movie heaven... Love Actually, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Singles, and about a thousand others.
A book that changed me... Eat Pray Love. Tells you how to lose the BS and just go DO what you love.
My favorite work of art... I have about a thousand, I'm currently trying to pare it down to 100 to post up here. Overall favorite...one my grandmother did of me and a girl who I grew up with in about 1984.
The last album I bought/downloaded... I didn't BUY it (it was sent to me), but Neil Diamond's new album. AWESOME.
The person who really makes me laugh... Maverick Staylor. I'd never want to date him for other reasons, but he made me realize that I would never be able to marry someone unless they made me laugh on a consistent basis.
The shops I can't walk past... vintage stores, antique stores and used bookshops. I'm more like my maternal grandmother than I knew.
The best invention ever... sorry, TMI - Tampax and the Pill. Not just for my own use (because lets be honest, I'm not necessarily in need of the latter these days), but because they've liberated women in a bigger sense than many know.
In ten years time, I hope to be... content and happy.
My greatest regret... is having paid way too much attention to what people thought of me earlier in my life. It never got me anywhere, and I just ended up more unhappy with myself. It's quite liberating to say "see ya later" to those that don't agree with the way you want to live your life.
My life in seven words... Fun, creative, inspired, fortunate, observant, exciting, humorous.
The house I grew up in... was an old house built in 1820, had a fireplace in almost every single room, was very busy, very loud and probably haunted.
When I was a child I wanted to be... an artist. My grandmother is one, and I wanted to be one as well for as long as I can remember. I used to go to her studio when I was young and I felt completely at home.
The moment that changed me for ever... in retrospect, probably the minute I set foot on the UGA campus for the first time. I didn't think I would change that much, but I don't think I even recognize that kid who left Lynchburg in 1997.
My greatest inspiration... is probably the myself that I'd like to be. I haven't really wanted to emulate any one person in particular, but I've always had an idea of where I want to go in life.
My real-life villain... a composite of those people which Julia Cameron calls "the censor" - those that make you think "wait, I can't do this"...sometimes its a family member, sometimes it's a friend, sometimes it's an enemy, sometimes it's a gut feeling that you're trying to stifle. The irony is that sometimes it's also my greatest motivator. You just have to acknowledge the censor and make it work for you.
If I could change one thing about myself... I'd stop cutting in mid-sentence all the time. I talk too much and interrupt when I'm super-excited about the conversation, but I know it pisses people off and I don't want it to affect me like that. Give other people a chance, Molly, you might learn something.
At night I dream of... strange things. I usually forget them the minute I wake up. I really should start keeping a journal by my bed again and just take the first ten minutes when I wake up to write - it really does spur creativity and start the day off on the right foot.
What I see when I look in the mirror... I'm pretty satisfied, and I think I've gotten better with age. But I always see room for improvement, and right now it's the fact that I desperately need a haircut.
My style icon.... just one? Since I'm the one answering the questions, I get one current and one from years past. Current - Sienna Miller. Very easy-going, bohemian style without looking like a dirty hippie and makes blonde hair and blue eyes fun again. Past - Grace Kelly.
My favourite item of clothing... Men's Hanes tank-tops, in the 3pack. They're so comfy, you can layer them and they look decent if you dress them up a little.
I wish I'd never worn... those stupid silver beads that every sorority girl wore back in the late 90's. I just hate them now.
It's not fashionable but I like... boot-cut jeans. I like the skinny cuts too, but I can't get out of bootcuts for long.
You wouldn't know it but I'm very good at... History. Ok, some people know it, I have a huge obsession with history. I am that dork that wants to read the signs on the roadside. I usually don't say anything, and I think I'm going to stop more often and see them.
You may not know it but I'm no good at... higher-level math. I still think maybe I should go audit a calculus class or something - it's not that I CAN'T do it, it's that it actually takes effort and studying. I was a student that just "got" everything else right off the bat, but math is challenging. Probably why I like it a lot.
All my money goes on... art supplies.
If I have time to myself... I paint and draw in front of the TV. Love it.
I drive/ride... I walk a lot. I think it's healthy and great for the environment and I feel better about myself for having done it. I am currently trying to find a Jeep Wrangler, however to actually drive when I have to do so.
My house is... lived-in. I love old furniture, lots of books, and a use for everything. It may not be un-cluttered, but I hate the "right out of a catalog" look - I like my house to say things about me and my personality.
My most valuable possession is... my easel. It was my grandmother's and it's big and beautiful and I don't think you could go and buy it off a rack anywhere.
My favorite building... in Philly: the Art Museum. Old, grand and welcoming. In Boston: any old Comm Ave rowhouse. In Atlanta: the Swan Coach house. In Athens: the UGA president's home. In Lynchburg: the Point of Honor.
Movie heaven... Love Actually, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Singles, and about a thousand others.
A book that changed me... Eat Pray Love. Tells you how to lose the BS and just go DO what you love.
My favorite work of art... I have about a thousand, I'm currently trying to pare it down to 100 to post up here. Overall favorite...one my grandmother did of me and a girl who I grew up with in about 1984.
The last album I bought/downloaded... I didn't BUY it (it was sent to me), but Neil Diamond's new album. AWESOME.
The person who really makes me laugh... Maverick Staylor. I'd never want to date him for other reasons, but he made me realize that I would never be able to marry someone unless they made me laugh on a consistent basis.
The shops I can't walk past... vintage stores, antique stores and used bookshops. I'm more like my maternal grandmother than I knew.
The best invention ever... sorry, TMI - Tampax and the Pill. Not just for my own use (because lets be honest, I'm not necessarily in need of the latter these days), but because they've liberated women in a bigger sense than many know.
In ten years time, I hope to be... content and happy.
My greatest regret... is having paid way too much attention to what people thought of me earlier in my life. It never got me anywhere, and I just ended up more unhappy with myself. It's quite liberating to say "see ya later" to those that don't agree with the way you want to live your life.
My life in seven words... Fun, creative, inspired, fortunate, observant, exciting, humorous.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Absolute Hilarity: White kids dancing at an 80's prom.
I don't know who thought this up, but it may be better than "The Dark Side of Oz".
One last thought after watching this for the tenth time: if I had grown up in a town where dancing was forbidden by the man who would go on to play an alien on 3rd Rock from the Sun, I would be a little uncoordinated on my first attempt if the ban were to be lifted. Apparently, these kids were not uncoordinated, they just had crazy moves. Who knew?
One last thought after watching this for the tenth time: if I had grown up in a town where dancing was forbidden by the man who would go on to play an alien on 3rd Rock from the Sun, I would be a little uncoordinated on my first attempt if the ban were to be lifted. Apparently, these kids were not uncoordinated, they just had crazy moves. Who knew?
Friday, July 4, 2008
Happy Birthday, US of A...
For the first time since I've lived here, I'm spending the Fourth of July in Philadelphia, mere blocks from where our founding fathers signed that famous document 232 years ago today. I can't even imagine how freaking HOT it was on that day - a few dozen men crammed in a tiny little room in Independence Hall, all wearing powdered wigs and longstockings underneath their wool suits in the days before Degree anti-perspirant and air-conditioning - all waiting to risk their lives simply by signing a piece of paper. That piece of paper, written by Virginia's most famous and well-loved resident, not to mention my most famous ancestor, Mr Thomas Jefferson, said things that we now consider to be a no-brainer - that all men are created equal, that we are all entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
Kudos, Mr Jefferson, thanks for the words.
John Hancock, as well as those that were in line after him that day on 5th and Chestnut Streets, were the first in a long line of those willing to lay down their lives if need be for a purpose that they considered to be greater than themselves. I saw a broadcast of a profile on a World War II veteran who was selected to be the grand marshal of today's parade in Millville, Pennsylvania, and as soon as the video becomes available, I will post it. It reminded me of how I was telling a friend of mine recently that I often think that I'm still single because very few men could ever live up to my granddad. While it's a cliche, I'm pretty certain that God broke the mold when he made him - the story I saw was additional proof that they just don't make them like that anymore.
But for now, here's another little tribute to our troops - when I came back from being abroad for a summer, this song was coincidentally playing on my iPod as the plane touched down on American soil. Still makes me proud to be an American every time I hear it. Like your fireworks today? Thank a veteran!
Kudos, Mr Jefferson, thanks for the words.
John Hancock, as well as those that were in line after him that day on 5th and Chestnut Streets, were the first in a long line of those willing to lay down their lives if need be for a purpose that they considered to be greater than themselves. I saw a broadcast of a profile on a World War II veteran who was selected to be the grand marshal of today's parade in Millville, Pennsylvania, and as soon as the video becomes available, I will post it. It reminded me of how I was telling a friend of mine recently that I often think that I'm still single because very few men could ever live up to my granddad. While it's a cliche, I'm pretty certain that God broke the mold when he made him - the story I saw was additional proof that they just don't make them like that anymore.
But for now, here's another little tribute to our troops - when I came back from being abroad for a summer, this song was coincidentally playing on my iPod as the plane touched down on American soil. Still makes me proud to be an American every time I hear it. Like your fireworks today? Thank a veteran!
Thursday, July 3, 2008
This is the funniest thing I've seen, ever - that or I need to lay off the boxed wine.
Apparently I'm the last person on earth to hear of this, but I seriously just laughed until there were tears - TEARS - streaming down my face like a crested river through small Iowa farm towns.
What does my dream mean?
I had the oddest dream last night that involved the following elements:
1. A plane that crashed shortly after landing. But we were all cool with it, and we were more concerned with getting to our destination (Myrtle Beach, SC for some reason - I haven't even been there since I was probably 13 or so) than with the fact that we had just crashed a plane.
2. A very crowded Burger King at breakfast. They didn't have any numbers on the menu for the value meals, and when I asked for my breakfast, I couldn't remember the word for "sausage" or "bacon" or "biscuits and gravy" - which I've never really had - and when I finally got it out by describing it, the people wouldn't take my order because they said I had to give them the number of what I wanted. There was also some sort of focaccia pizza that I kept calling Pizzacata, which is actually the name of a restaurant here in Philly - that doesn't serve pizza on focaccia/Northern Italy-style, it's served Neopolitan-style.
3. A midget. I don't know why, but the midget was there. This scares me, because I had a dream a couple of months ago that I had to go to someone's wedding with a midget as my date, and he was really mean to me. I didn't even like him in the least bit, but everyone thought he was the coolest person that has ever lived. I hereby apologize to the little people/dwarfism sufferers/vertically-challenged community if I've just offended, I don't know what the proper term is. His stature had nothing to do with why I didn't like him in my dream, he was just MEAN.
4. The city of Charlottesville, Virginia. I haven't been there in two years.
5. The people I went to Cancun with on Spring Break of my senior year of college. Ryan J, Natalie M, Traci R, Leslie C, and a bunch of guys from Traci's boyfriend's fraternity. I have no idea what was going on, but they were all there. With the exception of hearing from Traci every once in a while on IM/Facebook and Nat and Ryan being facebook friends, I haven't talked to any of them since I left UGA.
Anyone got any ideas of what this means? I was painting a very vivid, high contrast painting very late until when I went to bed, so I think my my mind thought it was in some sort of hallucinatory state.
1. A plane that crashed shortly after landing. But we were all cool with it, and we were more concerned with getting to our destination (Myrtle Beach, SC for some reason - I haven't even been there since I was probably 13 or so) than with the fact that we had just crashed a plane.
2. A very crowded Burger King at breakfast. They didn't have any numbers on the menu for the value meals, and when I asked for my breakfast, I couldn't remember the word for "sausage" or "bacon" or "biscuits and gravy" - which I've never really had - and when I finally got it out by describing it, the people wouldn't take my order because they said I had to give them the number of what I wanted. There was also some sort of focaccia pizza that I kept calling Pizzacata, which is actually the name of a restaurant here in Philly - that doesn't serve pizza on focaccia/Northern Italy-style, it's served Neopolitan-style.
3. A midget. I don't know why, but the midget was there. This scares me, because I had a dream a couple of months ago that I had to go to someone's wedding with a midget as my date, and he was really mean to me. I didn't even like him in the least bit, but everyone thought he was the coolest person that has ever lived. I hereby apologize to the little people/dwarfism sufferers/vertically-challenged community if I've just offended, I don't know what the proper term is. His stature had nothing to do with why I didn't like him in my dream, he was just MEAN.
4. The city of Charlottesville, Virginia. I haven't been there in two years.
5. The people I went to Cancun with on Spring Break of my senior year of college. Ryan J, Natalie M, Traci R, Leslie C, and a bunch of guys from Traci's boyfriend's fraternity. I have no idea what was going on, but they were all there. With the exception of hearing from Traci every once in a while on IM/Facebook and Nat and Ryan being facebook friends, I haven't talked to any of them since I left UGA.
Anyone got any ideas of what this means? I was painting a very vivid, high contrast painting very late until when I went to bed, so I think my my mind thought it was in some sort of hallucinatory state.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
My dad would have a field day with this...
Because he's always trying to get me to nail down a "plan". Like a five-, ten-, or lifelong plan. And I've always been hesitant about nailing down anything for years (or, in this case, 1001 days) because I know that I might change it. Who are we kidding here, anyone who has ever lived with me knows that I try on my entire wardrobe before going to the grocery store - change is inevitable with Molly.
Can I change my 101 goals? Just a couple of them, because there's some that I really want to be on there now. And a couple I actually don't really give a shite about, I just wanted that 101 when I was writing them.
Can I do it? And don't tell me "oh it's YOUR goals, YOU can do whatever you want"...because when I don't do them, I expect people to yell at me.
Can I change my 101 goals? Just a couple of them, because there's some that I really want to be on there now. And a couple I actually don't really give a shite about, I just wanted that 101 when I was writing them.
Can I do it? And don't tell me "oh it's YOUR goals, YOU can do whatever you want"...because when I don't do them, I expect people to yell at me.
When can you "dump" a friend?
First of all, don't worry, none of the people who read this blog are in danger of getting "dumped"!
I was catching up with a friend today that I hadn't talked to in a few years. No, she's not in danger either. Anyway, she asked me about a former friend of mine and how he was doing. I told her that I had chosen to stop talking to him a few years back, and her reply surprised me.
Her exact words?
"Wow Molly...I don't mean to upset you, but did you ever reconsider that? I know you always trust your gut and everything, but one of the things I admire about you is that you're very loyal to your friends. It just doesn't sound like you."
Wow.
I should back up and tell the story. This friend, who I won't name by name, and I had dated for a while in college. If he reads this, so be it - he probably should. Our breakup wasn't anything hairy or bad, in fact, we kept in contact for almost four years after that. He was even one of the first people to come visit me when I moved to Philadelphia. Neither of us ever wanted to get back together or anything, we were just good friends. However, when I went back to Athens, a mutual friend of ours told me something that was really disturbing - my friend had started dating a girl that had been married to one of his good friends.
I don't know the details of the story of how they started dating. Frankly, I don't really care. Even if the husband was cheating on the wife, if my friend waited until after the divorce to start dating her, whatever - the reality is that he owed more to his friend than to go after his former wife. I know, if she had been burned, she might need a friend as well and that might have been how they got together. But in my experience - and I've had a bit, coming from two divorces in my family, as well as two difficult breakups in my post-college life - even the worst cases of adultery or cheating are just symptoms of a relationship already gone down the tubes. Cheating, in my opinion, is simply a symptom of an already inherently flawed situation. People that are happy in committed relationships just don't cheat. I'm not saying that it absolves someone of it, but I think that his close friend deserved a little more than for his friend to go after his ex-wife. There's 2.5 billion potential partners on this planet - he should have picked another girl to date. Yeah, she's beautiful, I understand the temptation, I just don't think it was his place to burn his friend like that.
So. Yeah, I was surprised at him. I deleted him from my phone that night, and I was so upset about the whole matter, I called my mom the next day to ask if I had done the right thing. I may tell my mom what I'm doing, but I've never been one to ask her opinion on what I should have done. She actually agreed with me - that sometimes you have to take a stand for what you believe in, and if someone disappoints you in the way they treat their friends, you may not ever know when they may do something similar to you.
I thought about this today and realized that I still feel the same way. I don't know if they're still together, and again - frankly, I don't really care. They could have gotten married, have kids now, whatever. I hope they're happy, and I know that deep down he's either changed or he repressed some sense of integrity when he got into that situation. I don't think there's room for us to be friends again, I think that even if he came to me and said that he made a mistake and was sorry, I wouldn't feel any differently. Don't get me wrong, I've already forgiven him, but I think that he owes his friend the apology - not me. I think I had reason to "dump" this friend, simply because if one of my friends did that to me, I'd be extremely hurt. As for my friend's comment today, I know she meant well, I think she didn't really know the context of it all, but I think it still makes me a loyal friend - I just don't like giving that loyalty away when someone has been callous with that loyalty with their own friends. I'll admit - this is a bit different because he's NOT a girlfriend. If one of my girlfriends did the identical thing, I don't know what I'd do. We've all made mistakes, I know. But for the record, if any of my friends were to (God Forbid, and I've just knocked on wood) run off, leave their spouse and find another, I would be worried, first and foremost, about my friend. The spouse - they'll get support from their own friends and family. I would be concerned for my friend - if they had been going through rough times that I didn't know about, whatever - because that's my job: to be there for them when the world is not. I'm not married to the friend, after all, so they're not cheating on me. But if someone demonstrates - in a very big way - that they aren't such a good friend, then yes, it might cause me reason to reassess our own friendship.
Anyone think I did the wrong thing? Do you think that there IS a time when you can "dump" a friend - even when they haven't wronged you specifically?
I was catching up with a friend today that I hadn't talked to in a few years. No, she's not in danger either. Anyway, she asked me about a former friend of mine and how he was doing. I told her that I had chosen to stop talking to him a few years back, and her reply surprised me.
Her exact words?
"Wow Molly...I don't mean to upset you, but did you ever reconsider that? I know you always trust your gut and everything, but one of the things I admire about you is that you're very loyal to your friends. It just doesn't sound like you."
Wow.
I should back up and tell the story. This friend, who I won't name by name, and I had dated for a while in college. If he reads this, so be it - he probably should. Our breakup wasn't anything hairy or bad, in fact, we kept in contact for almost four years after that. He was even one of the first people to come visit me when I moved to Philadelphia. Neither of us ever wanted to get back together or anything, we were just good friends. However, when I went back to Athens, a mutual friend of ours told me something that was really disturbing - my friend had started dating a girl that had been married to one of his good friends.
I don't know the details of the story of how they started dating. Frankly, I don't really care. Even if the husband was cheating on the wife, if my friend waited until after the divorce to start dating her, whatever - the reality is that he owed more to his friend than to go after his former wife. I know, if she had been burned, she might need a friend as well and that might have been how they got together. But in my experience - and I've had a bit, coming from two divorces in my family, as well as two difficult breakups in my post-college life - even the worst cases of adultery or cheating are just symptoms of a relationship already gone down the tubes. Cheating, in my opinion, is simply a symptom of an already inherently flawed situation. People that are happy in committed relationships just don't cheat. I'm not saying that it absolves someone of it, but I think that his close friend deserved a little more than for his friend to go after his ex-wife. There's 2.5 billion potential partners on this planet - he should have picked another girl to date. Yeah, she's beautiful, I understand the temptation, I just don't think it was his place to burn his friend like that.
So. Yeah, I was surprised at him. I deleted him from my phone that night, and I was so upset about the whole matter, I called my mom the next day to ask if I had done the right thing. I may tell my mom what I'm doing, but I've never been one to ask her opinion on what I should have done. She actually agreed with me - that sometimes you have to take a stand for what you believe in, and if someone disappoints you in the way they treat their friends, you may not ever know when they may do something similar to you.
I thought about this today and realized that I still feel the same way. I don't know if they're still together, and again - frankly, I don't really care. They could have gotten married, have kids now, whatever. I hope they're happy, and I know that deep down he's either changed or he repressed some sense of integrity when he got into that situation. I don't think there's room for us to be friends again, I think that even if he came to me and said that he made a mistake and was sorry, I wouldn't feel any differently. Don't get me wrong, I've already forgiven him, but I think that he owes his friend the apology - not me. I think I had reason to "dump" this friend, simply because if one of my friends did that to me, I'd be extremely hurt. As for my friend's comment today, I know she meant well, I think she didn't really know the context of it all, but I think it still makes me a loyal friend - I just don't like giving that loyalty away when someone has been callous with that loyalty with their own friends. I'll admit - this is a bit different because he's NOT a girlfriend. If one of my girlfriends did the identical thing, I don't know what I'd do. We've all made mistakes, I know. But for the record, if any of my friends were to (God Forbid, and I've just knocked on wood) run off, leave their spouse and find another, I would be worried, first and foremost, about my friend. The spouse - they'll get support from their own friends and family. I would be concerned for my friend - if they had been going through rough times that I didn't know about, whatever - because that's my job: to be there for them when the world is not. I'm not married to the friend, after all, so they're not cheating on me. But if someone demonstrates - in a very big way - that they aren't such a good friend, then yes, it might cause me reason to reassess our own friendship.
Anyone think I did the wrong thing? Do you think that there IS a time when you can "dump" a friend - even when they haven't wronged you specifically?
Getting my money's worth out of $75 in (mostly) organic food
I went to Whole Foods last night to invest in food to start my little toxic cleanse...
Yes, that's what $75 buys you these days in Organic Foods. Only about 3 or 4 things were not organic, and except for the bananas, all of the produce is local. I could still knock part of that out by going to the Farmers Market (or accepting Sarah's offer of produce when I get home - never had it, but from what I remember, her house is quite possibly the closest thing to God's personal farm that you'll ever see!), so I actually think I shopped pretty well. Yes, I could have done without the $7 frozen pizza, the $6 crab & artichoke dip, the $9 gallon of protein juice-y stuff, and baby bananas at $1.99/lb when the real ones are 79cents/pound, but...baby steps, people, baby steps. Plus, that whole chicken is organic - and local - and actually cost LESS than a comparable chicken next door at Superfresh, not to mention it's a bajillion dollars less than buying the cut-up, skinned and de-boned chicken. For dinner I had a huge salad, and I couldn't even finish it because I was so full. I'll see how well I do in keeping this up.
Anyone have ANY idea how to cook a whole chicken? No, not going to do beer-can chicken. We only have bottles of beer, and if I were to buy one can of beer I'd have to buy a whole case. Welcome to Pennsylvania's stupid liquor laws.
Yes, that's what $75 buys you these days in Organic Foods. Only about 3 or 4 things were not organic, and except for the bananas, all of the produce is local. I could still knock part of that out by going to the Farmers Market (or accepting Sarah's offer of produce when I get home - never had it, but from what I remember, her house is quite possibly the closest thing to God's personal farm that you'll ever see!), so I actually think I shopped pretty well. Yes, I could have done without the $7 frozen pizza, the $6 crab & artichoke dip, the $9 gallon of protein juice-y stuff, and baby bananas at $1.99/lb when the real ones are 79cents/pound, but...baby steps, people, baby steps. Plus, that whole chicken is organic - and local - and actually cost LESS than a comparable chicken next door at Superfresh, not to mention it's a bajillion dollars less than buying the cut-up, skinned and de-boned chicken. For dinner I had a huge salad, and I couldn't even finish it because I was so full. I'll see how well I do in keeping this up.
Anyone have ANY idea how to cook a whole chicken? No, not going to do beer-can chicken. We only have bottles of beer, and if I were to buy one can of beer I'd have to buy a whole case. Welcome to Pennsylvania's stupid liquor laws.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
IT COULD BE A CRACKHEAD! I'ma git a backho and uproot dat tree. I want the gold!
I am posting this with the tag "art" because my favorite part is the sketch. Actually, professional police sketch artists aren't much better, so I don't know why they put "amateur" on there.
Paintings in progress
Some artists work exclusively on one piece at a time. I'd love to have that kind of concentration and dedication, but I just can't do it. I've got to have options on what to work on, I get frustrated with things, put them aside for a while, then come back when I have some fresh eyes. At any one time, I probably have about ten pieces in the works. Here's a small group of them:
This was actually a HUGE reworking of a painting that I was never crazy about. I don't think it'll ever go up for sale simply because it's an overpaint that I never did correctly. I still play around with it every now and then - it's been "in progress" for six months.
So far, this hasn't had a bit of paint associated with it, but this was an initial sketch from a picture I took of my "little" brother Blake. I'm a little iffy on the composition of it, the paper I drew this on is a lot more square than the canvas I want to put it on - it's hard to translate it onto a different space.
This isn't showing up as well as I'd like, the color is quite a bit off. I found the reference picture associated with this while looking through an old high school friend's myspace page, and I took a bit of creative license to it. Some days I'm ready to trash the whole thing and start over.
This had a lot of promise when I started... I found the reference picture - a friend had taken it of a poppy field in France - the same day my friend Claire told me the story of how she started her obsession with poppies. She was having a really rough time a few years back and was driving a lot between Knoxville, Tennessee, and Lynchburg, and one day, she was having such a hard time, she just pulled over to burst into tears about everything. When she finally looked up, she noticed that she hadn't even looked over on the side of the road, and right there was a huge, beautiful field of poppies. It hadn't been there the day before, and may not have even been there the next day, but she kind of adopted it as HER flower. I loved the story, and I think I might have kept it in my mind as I worked on this for a while. Unfortunately, however, the lighting has driven me a little crazy. I can't seem to give it depth. I'm going to pick it up and finish it pretty soon here.
I'm hoping to finish all of these BEFORE I move back home. I'll update as some of them get completed.
This was actually a HUGE reworking of a painting that I was never crazy about. I don't think it'll ever go up for sale simply because it's an overpaint that I never did correctly. I still play around with it every now and then - it's been "in progress" for six months.
So far, this hasn't had a bit of paint associated with it, but this was an initial sketch from a picture I took of my "little" brother Blake. I'm a little iffy on the composition of it, the paper I drew this on is a lot more square than the canvas I want to put it on - it's hard to translate it onto a different space.
This isn't showing up as well as I'd like, the color is quite a bit off. I found the reference picture associated with this while looking through an old high school friend's myspace page, and I took a bit of creative license to it. Some days I'm ready to trash the whole thing and start over.
This had a lot of promise when I started... I found the reference picture - a friend had taken it of a poppy field in France - the same day my friend Claire told me the story of how she started her obsession with poppies. She was having a really rough time a few years back and was driving a lot between Knoxville, Tennessee, and Lynchburg, and one day, she was having such a hard time, she just pulled over to burst into tears about everything. When she finally looked up, she noticed that she hadn't even looked over on the side of the road, and right there was a huge, beautiful field of poppies. It hadn't been there the day before, and may not have even been there the next day, but she kind of adopted it as HER flower. I loved the story, and I think I might have kept it in my mind as I worked on this for a while. Unfortunately, however, the lighting has driven me a little crazy. I can't seem to give it depth. I'm going to pick it up and finish it pretty soon here.
I'm hoping to finish all of these BEFORE I move back home. I'll update as some of them get completed.
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