trebleclef402's Xanga

Marty

Mon, 30 Jun 2008 18:02:39 GMT

I just had an odd urge to do a cartwheel. The last time I had such an urge it was bad news Bears, so I squelched it. Growing up's a bummer sometimes. Like when you have to have your car serviced. Holy freaking cow! I thought I was only getting tires changed and an oil change but my (honest to goodness honest) mechanic discovered the source of a weird bubbly noise. Turns out the serpentine belt (whatever the heck that is) was in pretty bad shape. He fixed it up and found a new grinding sound that had been hiding out under the bubbly belt. The belt's tensioner (or the "cruncher, stresser, whatever" that I called it when relaying the news to my dad) was in bad shape, too. Marty (the magic mechanic, as I've taken to calling him) stressed that he didn't want me driving too far with that tensioner the way it was seeing as he'd have to order a new one.

Now, before anyone thinks Marty's ripping me off with new parts and fix ups when I just asked for tires and an oil change - he's not. Nope. Marty's cool as a cucumber. He one time dropped Mom's van off at the house in the morning so she'd have it in time to get to a doctor's appointment. Another time when we had to use The Rental, he came over with a hammer when it wouldn't start, popped the hood and whacked something. It promptly started up. And there was yet another time in which Mother's van died and he (along with some other mechanics) walked over and pushed it the block and a half to the shop so she wouldn't have to pay for a tow truck. How cool is that?

Mom spilled my secret confession to him this afternoon that I was feeling anxious about moving to Ohio and away from him. What if something happens to my car? I don't think Marty will drive three hours to whack it with a hammer for me, much less push it to the garage. When she told him this he threw back his head and laughed.

Marty laughed.

Marty never laughs.

I nearly died. It was great. He said, "There's always Christmas!"

I'm going to miss him in Ohio. I hate going to a new mechanic (had to once in Allendale because my muffler was dragging on the ground) because I'm always afraid I'm going to get gypped. I'm a woman who doesn't know a heck of a lot about cars. Easy target.

Althooooough...I have used that to my advantage once or twice. It's rather awe-inspiring how far dressing up cute, describing the problem with cutesy words and giggling can get you... *cough*discount*cough*

I swear, I'm not usually like that. But hey, if it works...

It's weird. I've discovered through trial and error that if I use mechanic techy talk to describe a problem with the car I don't get nearly as good of a response as I do when I tell them that the thing-a-ma-dilly sounded bubbly and the steering wheel got all shaky and I just didn't know what to do! (puppy dog eyes)

Men are weird.

Six Random, Unspectacular Quirks

Thu, 26 Jun 2008 16:30:20 GMT

Six Random, Unspectacular Quirks
(stolen from isthisalifeworthliving when no one was looking)

1. There’s a particular order I like to put food on my plate when I dish up. Meat first, then the potatoes, then the veggies. Of course, different kinds of meals (not meat and potatoes) have particular orders as well.

2. I don’t get motion sickness very often, but when I do I cannot handle certain vowels. The “a” in “can” and “ow” in “vowel”, for example. This is particularly problematic when I need Dramamine. I have to pronounce it as if I am saying “Drama Queen” otherwise the nausea gets worse.

3. I don’t like being uneven. If I scuff one foot, I have to scuff the other. What’s really annoying is when I make the second scuff harder or lighter than the first – then I’m even more off-kilter.

4. Drawers and cupboards that are not closed all the way annoy the living daylights out of me. I will go through and close them all. If one refuses to close all the way it’s all I can do to not have a complete mental shutdown.

5. There are certain textures that I really do not like. Couldn’t tell you for sure what they are, but when I feel them my hand shoots back and I have to rub my fingers together to ‘erase’ the yucky feeling (or rub ‘em on satin – that usually works, too).

6. Number five happens quite frequently because I am also a compulsive soft-things-in-stores-toucher. I’ve finally managed to get my hands under control around expensive and breakable things, but if it looks soft I will touch it.

There you have it - 6 of my eccentricities that I have deigned to share with you. There are more that have been left unsaid!

Dinner Prayers

Sat, 21 Jun 2008 20:57:06 GMT

My dad makes me laugh, and one of the best times is during dinner prayer. Most of the time it is the standard thanks for the food, bless the family, bla bla bla, add in a special prayer request or praise as necessary. But every now and then he gets a little goofy and I can't help but laugh.

Thank you, Lord, for the chicken (groans) *snicker* for the chicken that gave its life (giggle, sigh) so that we may eat it.

The way I see it, God wouldn't give us a sense of humor if He didn't have one. And it's an expression of joy, too, right? Fruit of the Spirit and all that. I imagine He gets a kick out of us, knowing what my dad's about to say and knowing what each of our reactions are going to be: Dad says it with a grin while holding our hands, Mom sighs amusedly and squeezes his hand viciously while rolling her eyes, and I squeeze his hand with a jerk while snickering. Dad wraps up the prayer with a laughing Amen. Mom smacks his arm with a Brett! And I just laugh at my old man.

When I'm living elsewhere I find myself missing my dad thanking the Lord for the chickens and cows that gave their lives so we could eat them. That's when I thank God for a happy family with a sense of humor.

Get Smart

Sat, 21 Jun 2008 20:29:41 GMT

I just saw this movie and it was way funnier than I expected!

Fun times on my day off!

Obviously

Fri, 20 Jun 2008 00:08:49 GMT

I hate that word. I never really noticed it until my senior year of High School when my Speech teacher advised us to avoid saying "obviously" in speeches. What if it's not obvious? You make your listener feel like a right nincompoop because s/he didn't see your point right away.

It was advice I took but didn't necessarily dwell on. Over the years since then, though, I've noticed it more and more and become increasingly irritated with it to the point where I am now grinding my teeth at its very utterance. I feel as if there is a tone implied with it, even on paper (or computer screen), that suggests an arrogance on the speaker/writer's part.

It is a way of saying in one word, If you haven't reached the same conclusion as myself, then obviously you are of inferior intellect.

It's belittling, and I don't like that.

So please, if I ask you a question and/or you are explaining something, don't tell me that it's obvious or I'll hurl you out the window. Just kidding. Sort of. I will mentally, anyway. And then I'll arrogantly spout off something that I know you don't know and pretend like it was all rather obvious.

Gosh, that word just makes me want to hurl. Obviously. Blergh.

Praise God For Cows and Corn

Wed, 18 Jun 2008 01:02:39 GMT

This is not my work (I found it here), but I thought it was funny:

An old farmer went to the city one weekend and attended the big city church. He came home and his wife asked him how it was. “Well,” said the farmer, “it was good. They did something different, however. They sang praise choruses instead of hymns.”

“Praise choruses?” said his wife. “What are those?”

“Oh, they’re OK. They are sort of like hymns, only different,” said the farmer.

“Well, what’s the difference?” asked his wife.

The farmer said, “Well, it’s like this - If I were to say to you “Martha, the cows are in the corn”’ - well, that would be a hymn. If on the other hand, I were to say to you:

Martha, Martha, Martha,
Oh Martha, MARTHA, MARTHA,
the cows, the big cows, the brown cows, the black cows
the white cows, the black and white cows,
the COWS, COWS, COWS
are in the corn,
are in the corn, are in the corn, are in the corn,
the CORN, CORN, CORN.

Then, if I were to repeat the whole thing two or three times, well, that would be a praise chorus.”

The next weekend, his nephew, a young, new Christian from the city came to visit and attended the local church of the small town. He went home and his wife asked him how it was. “Well,” said the young man, “it was good. They did something different however. They sang hymns instead of regular songs.”

“Hymns?” asked his wife. “What are those?”

“Oh, they’re OK. They are sort of like regular songs, only different,” said the young man.

“Well, what’s the difference?”

The young man said, “Well, it’s like this - If I were to say to you ‘Martha, the cows are in the corn’ - well, that would be a regular song. If on the other hand, I were to say to you:

‘Oh Martha, dear Martha, hear thou my cry
Inclinest thine ear to the words of my mouth
Turn thou thy whole wondrous ear by and by
To the righteous, inimitable, glorious truth.

‘For the way of the animals who can explain
There in their heads is no shadow of sense
Hearkenest they in God’s sun or His rain
Unless from the mild, tempting corn they are fenced.

‘Yea those cows in glad bovine, rebellious delight
Have broke free their shackles, their warm pens eschewed
Then goaded by minions of darkness and night
They all my mild Chilliwack sweet corn have chewed.

‘So look to the bright shining day by and by
Where all foul corruptions of earth are reborn
Where no vicious animals make my soul cry
And I no longer see those foul cows in the corn.’

Then if I were to do only verses one, three and four and do a key change on the last verse, well that would be a hymn.

Shake A Tail Feather

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 20:25:35 GMT

Over the course of fifteen years I danced ballet, tap, jazz and pointe. Most of those years were at Connie Cassidy's School of Dance. Miss Connie is a fantastic dancer and a fantastic woman. I worked for her for a couple of years as a dance teacher aid. I worked with her daughter, Miss Cammie, who happened to be my dance teacher. Today was the 50th recital anniversary of Miss Connie's dance studio. She asked me to dance in a fun number with her granddaughter, grandson (Cammie's kids) and a bunch of other alumni.
We danced Shake A Tailfeather to Ray Charles from The Blues Brothers. It was a LOT of fun. At the end, a few of us (myself included) actually jumped off the stage and ran out of the auditorium. Well, I would have run out of the auditorium if there had been a door. I ran into a wall. So I waited until the houselights came on and picked my way through the audience, which was kind of funny.

Here's some pictures of us:

And here's a video clip from the movie. The dance we did was very similar - fun!

ABC thing for music

Tue, 10 Jun 2008 23:20:40 GMT

I'm bored so I'll do the ABC song thingamadilly. I don't have anything on my computer for Q, X, and Z, though, so I'll just pop in random words for the heck of it.

Almost Lover - A Fine Frenzy
Bamboo of the Earth - Bamboo Orchestra
Come Together - Aerosmith
Do You Love Me - The Contours
Everybody's Fool - Evanescence
Faceless Man - Creed
Great Indoors - John Mayer
Hiding Place - Jars of Clay
I'm Your Man - Michael Bublé
John Henry - Pete Seeger
Kellerman's Anthem - the Emile Bergstein Chorale (Dirty Dancing)
Lost in Love - Air Supply
Mister Big Time - Jon Bon Jovi
New Year's Song - (Various Artists - Music of European Nationalism)
Om Ma Ni Pad Me Hum - Thumpton Tsering
Prose Combat - MC Solaar
Queen
Remember Me - Journey
Shake a Tail Feather - Ray Charles
There's A Fire Deep In The Hill - Lifescapes
Up Is Down - Hans Zimmer
Vincent - Josh Groban
Wipeout - The Sufaris
Xanga
You Don't Own Me - The Blow Monkeys
Zelda

There, I got someone different for all of them. I'm kind of bummed that Queen Xanga Zelda's missing out on the fun, here.

Small Town Girl

Sat, 07 Jun 2008 00:25:47 GMT

Oh. My. Gosh. I really am a small-town hick!

I went to Ohio today to look for an apartment. The college town is a decent size, but it's not a mondo city like Tallahassee - had I gone there instead. But apparently I'm just too used to dodging enormous farm equipment, deer, dogs, squirrels, 'coons, and the occasional doofus (whether by car, leg, or bicycle).

I am used to the cobble-stone main street that dead ends. I am used to the blinking red light intersection. Heck, I'm even used to the traffic lights with green arrows in the next town over, where I went to high school.

I can handle being tail-gated by soccer moms who have traded their mini vans for SUVs. I can handle tail-gating Grandpa Nocanhearorsee. In fact, I'm adventurous enough to "illegally" pass Gramps on a solid yellow line because he's going round 'bout the same speed as a tractor, if not slower. We're allowed to pass those, so it's no biggie to pass him, too.

And, since all of you are laughing and will find this incredulous, I am used to traffic jams. Think I'm lying? Well, when Old Man In Pickup Truck Number 1 stops in the middle of the street to talk to Old Man In Pickup Truck Number 2 facing the opposite direction, and I'm stuck behind one or the other of them, then hells bells, it's a traffic jam!

It occurred to me at one point in my life that perhaps this was a bit small-townish. So I went to college to check it out. The majority of drivers could see over their dashboards, so I figured I'd hit the city. I didn't see much in the way of apple orchards and corn fields like back home. Instead we had smoggy city air - you know, when the wind blows in one direction and you can smell the cow manure? I had to adjust to that.

I can handle the city. No biggie. I can handle cow manure and younger drivers. I can get used to not being allowed to pass slow people when there's a solid yellow line. Bring it on!

I went to look at apartments. I didn't know where the heck they were. There were too many streets. My GPS would tell me to turn, so I would, only to find I'd turned too early. There's more streets up ahead. Oh.

I'd slow down to try and find the address I'm looking for only to find fifteen cars appear out of nowhere tail-gating me. I'd try to turn around only to get lost. One way street? And then there were the two-way streets that had cars parked on them! What the heck am I supposed to do when another car's coming at me and I can't drive down the middle of the road to avoid the cars parked on the right?

And what's up with numbered don't you dare park here or you will be towed at your own expense parking spaces? I have a God-given right to park in an empty parking space! (I'll forfeit the blue ones for handicapped folks, of course. And possibly elderly church ladies with vicious canes - depends on my mood.)

All in all, it was a very trying day for this poor country hick. I did, however, find an apartment and signed the lease! Yay! I was waffling between two different ones and ended up choosing the smaller of the two. The way I see it, I don't need a whole heck of a lot of space for just myself. But what really sold it for me, and it was kind of weird, was that when I stood outside the front door, I felt comfortable. I didn't necessarily feel uncomfortable outside the front door of the larger apartment, but it was a larger complex with upstairs and downstairs and lefts and rights and numbered parking spaces.

I'll be living in a little graduate-student-only, no-more-than-two-people-living-together-at-a-time one story unit. Standing outside my future front door felt good. The inside is, as I said, small. There isn't a dishwasher or a garbage disposal like at the other place. But then again, I've never had either of those before in my life, so it doesn't really faze me. It's a little dark, what with the dark walls and carpet, but I'm pretty sure I can brighten the place up somehow or another. I have my own kitchen, my own bathroom, my own bedroom, and I'll have a living room! And I won't have to loft furniture!

Speaking of furniture, I need some. I'm looting the guest bedroom for the bed and dresser. I have a squeaky glider chair and ottoman. The room has a built-in desk, which I'm a little dubious about. We'll see how that works out. And I have a TV tray. I think I'm set for starters, but I'm gonna pop around garage sales this summer, which is kind of scary. I've never been big on buying other people's stuff. Don't mind if they buy mine, though.

So yeah, that's my day today. As far as the weather went, it was warm enough that even I, in my long dark pants and short sleeve blouse, felt a little warm and drank a bit more water than normal. Mom was dying of heat stroke. Temp said 90-something, so I guess I can understand. Most people find that to be a bit up there.

Nerdiness

Wed, 04 Jun 2008 22:11:27 GMT

I'll jump on the bandwagon and pop this on here:

And for the record, though I haven't disassembled a VHS or DVD player, I have disassembled and properly reassembled a flute. Just for the shear heck of it. Well, and to figure out where the loose screw was.