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Sunday, March 16, 2008

Hello Jeep.

I'm happy to report that I've accumulated a Jeep Wrangler. When Jon got engaged, he made the decision that it was time to move away from the forest green piece of beauty. The Jeep, he decided, wasn't a marriage vehicle, and so, wasn't for him. So, he's been driving a Honda while looking around at all those lame little four doors (he doesn't want my neon green Jezebel for some reason that I certainly can't imagine.)

Anyway, I've taken over the Jeep. It's amazing. You wouldn't believe how loud it is in there; it's like driving around in a factory. And I like to listen to classical music while I drive, because I tell myself that it makes me original, or maybe surprising and incorrect, something like an exclamation mark at the end of a question. Who knows.

But driving a Wrangler is a dream come true. The Wrangler automatically qualifies its driver for membership into a secret club. See, every time I pass another Wrangler, we do this wave: you put your hand on the very top of the steering wheel (one hand, preferably...that's just the way its done), and then you lift two fingers--the pointer and the middle. Inevitable the ring finger and the pinkie trail somewhere behind, so it's really more of a lazy four finger wave. And don't smile. Now, I can't seem to help myself, because waving from my Wrangler to others is just about the height of perfection, but all the others the wave with a sort of grim, sort of bored look on their faces. Oh, and one more thing: don't be waving at Cherokees and Liberties. They're the girly versions of the Jeep. They're the ugly step-sisters, the half breeds that we ignore.

I just can't wait for summer. Imagine me driving around with no roof, no doors. Nothing except me and the great outdoors.

I think this Jeep could turn me into a camper (the person, not the bloated, fold-out excuse for a vehicle).

Monday, March 03, 2008

I've been offered a position as a full-time nanny. (Monday-Friday nanny, not The Nanny Diaries type nanny). I would love the job...I really love kids. The boys are 2 years old and 3 weeks old. Those are just really phenomenal ages, I think. But here's the catch: I've been offered the job by my boss at work. I could still work weekends at the retirement home if I wanted, but he's already accepting applications for my position.
I'm meeting his wife tomorrow, so we'll see how it goes. But I'm tired of not knowing exactly how much I'll be working. I like the idea of working 8-5 Monday-Friday. I like knowing what money I'll have every month. I like the concept of stability.
But a double boss? Not sure about that...
Also, I'm not thrilled about being referred to as "Nanny."
But on the bright side, if I do get the job for sure, I'm buying a pair of Converse tennis shoes. Again, if you've seen The Nanny Diaries, you'll know why I'm thinking this. I'm also going to buy the t-shirt Rachel wears when she tells Joey to tell Ross that they're dating. You know, the Save the Drama for your Mama shirt. I'm sorry, but that would be an amazing nanny (read: Katie) shirt.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

I had a big scare today.
I was helping with Lunch Bunch at work. Once a week, we take a handful of residents out to eat at various restaurants, so they can still make it out into society. Well, one of the residents who religiously attends Lunch Bunch hadn't come down by the specified time. I was getting antzy, because everyone else was already on the bus, and we were set to leave in a few minutes. He's nearly deaf, so though I had called him, he hadn't answered. So, I decided to run up to his room and bring him down myself. I don't often do this--especially with this particular resident--mostly, because I've knocked on his door only a few times, and almost everytime I do knock, he answers completely naked. And since he's the only man I've seen completely naked, these moments sort of make me scared to ever get married.
Anyway, I knocked on his door, and there was no answer. I knocked again, and yelled his name. Still no answer. So, I tried the knob, and the door was unlocked. So, I walked in. The room felt different when I did this...it smelled different, really stuffy. I looked around, but he wasn't on the toilet or on the couch or in his recliner. So, I walked into his bedroom, and there he was, in bed. My heart about stopped, because as soon as I looked at him, I knew he was dead. Just knew it.
I panicked and run over to him, yelling his name. He didn't move at all. I started shaking him, and there was still no response. So, I kept shaking and shaking and shaking. Just as I was about to give up, one eyes opened. It looked so much like a snake eye--you know the ones you see on the nature channel, no eye lid. Then the other eye opened, and he stared at me a minute, obviously disoriented.
"What?" he asked.
I asked him if he was going to go to Lunch Bunch, and he ignored me, rolled over and went back to sleep.
But oh my goodness, I was so scared. Three residents had died in their beds this month--heart problems mostly--, and while I haven't found any of them, I'm afraid I will. But hallelujah that moment wasn't today.
Amen and Amen.

Saturday, February 16, 2008

I am now the only member of my immediate family who is neither married nor engaged. Last night, my brother Jon proposed to his girlfriend. For them, the "After" has been amazing...googly eyes, hand-holding, showing off the ring, etc. The "After" for me hasn't been so great. I'm still recovering from hypothermia, and am having the occasional nose bleed resulting from too much exposure to the elements.
Here's the story:
Jon asked me if I'd take pictures of the couple while Jon popped the question. I heartily agreed, and he added, "Now, not to seem mean or anything, but I'm not inviting you to eat with us...I want you under cover." I immediate pictured myself at a restaurant with the two of them, sitting behind a few fake trees, snapping pictures in a heated room. Well, Jon decided he'd take Becki downtown and propose on the Circle. This seemed a plausible option, and I agreed.
So, undercover. The first issue was this: How do I hide myself in such a way that his girlfriend of 3-some years doesn't recognize me? He suggested I wear our Bill Clinton mask. I ignored the suggestion.
I considered two options: one, I'd dress as a Muslim. I have a nice ankle length skirt and have recently, through a strange string of events, acquired a head scarf. My next option was the one I eventually settled on: I'd be a pregnant, sporty, first-time mom. I wore my Wisconsin Badgers sweatshirt, my black sweats, a Yankees hat with my ponytail pulled through, and wadded up my AWANA shirt and balled it against my stomach. The costume was ideal. Even my parents didn't recognize me.
Jon called me from the bathroom of the restaurant at 7, saying he was on his way downtown. I headed out from work at 7 and sped downtown in order to beat them. The mall's parking garage was completely full, so I drove onto New York (appropriate considering my hat of choice), parked at a meter, and sprinted to the Circle. Only one person rolled down the window to voice concerns over the baby.
I got to the Circle at 7:40, set up my tripod and camera, and hid behind a cement pillar. I was prepared. I aimed my camera and focused on every couple who walked by, thinking it was the lucky pair. None were.
I was fine at first, weathering the cold pretty well, but all the sudden, my toenails started to ache. Then I lost feeling in the toes. My fingernails started to ache, and the hand-feeling was gone as well. At that point, I flagged down a pair of business men who, eyes trained on my bulging belly, answered that it was 8:20. They urged me to get home, because "it's not safe for a girl in your condition to be out here." I thanked them, started pacing, and eventually, a girl about my age walked by. She looked clean-cut, innocent. I stepped out from behind the pillar, and she jumped about a mile when I asked to borrow her cell phone. (I'd forgotten mine in the car which was about a block away). She finally agreed, eyes narrowed suspiciously, only after saying, "It can't be long distance..." I could only remember my Aunt's number, so I asked her to call my dad and ask him to text Jon and tell him I was downtown. (I thought maybe Jon was trying to call me but wasn't sure it I was really there...)
About ten minutes later, Jon and Becki walked past, hand in hand. Here's some photos, because, by this point, you can probably imagine what happened.

In this next one, Jon's giving a thumb's up:

Becki said that even after I walked up to her, she didn't recognize me. She claims I looked like a small, Chinese woman. Not sure about the small part or the Chinese part. The next picture is one of Becki and me and "The Baby."

Here's the happy couple, basking in their engagement-ness:

Jon later told me that he tried to get Becki out of the Chocolate Cafe to walk around the Circle, but she refused, saying it was too cold.
So in exchange for my sniffles, the lack of sensation in my appendages, etc, he bought me The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood, which, I have to say, I find a fair exchange.
So, here's to married life and enduring hypothermia for the cause of Margaret Atwood!
Oh, and for anyone interested, a few pictures of the ring:

And one more of the love birds: