Archives for posts with tag: california

I’m currently in the midst of Crunch Week – the last week of classes before finals – so my schedule has been incredibly busy.  So busy, in fact, that it did not register when my professor mentioned class on Monday.  Apparently, because we did not have classes on Good Friday, we now have classes on Monday.  I find this annoying because we have never made up classes missed on Good Friday before.

A few days ago, my roommate approached me and asked if I had nice cursive writing.  I said that I supposed that I did, and she said that the education department is starting an education honors society chapter, and wanted to know if I would fill out the certificates.  Certainly.  Little did I know that “nice handwriting” actually meant “some sort of talent in calligraphy.”  Fortunately, I learned calligraphy in sixth grade during a Medieval unit in my social studies class.  Unfortunately, my wrists, fingers and joints happen to hate holding a calligraphy pen while I fill in three lines on 56 different certificates.  They also really hate it when I take a break during said writing to type a blog post.  On the upside, I am being paid for my skill that is far worse than most but better than some, and post-tithe, I am funneling the money into my thesis fund.  Or maybe the wedding fund.  Or the college loans fund.

I wish I had a spend-it-on-myself fund.

Also, the ladies at church have decided to crochet some lap blankets for the local women’s center.  Two of them asked if my sister and I would crochet some, and I, in my infinite wisdom, decided that yes, of course we had enough time to crochet blankets during the middle of crunch week and finals week!  I spent an hour crocheting on Monday while filling my brain with Veggie Tales and Spongebob Squarepants.  It was fantastic.  (Actually, I don’t understand how I managed to retain as many brain cells as I did.)

At some point I also realized that I have a print article due on Monday, aside from those surprise classes.

And I also realized that the college paper goes to press on Tuesday.

Then there’s my tutor evaluation bright and early Wednesday morning, because my boss had no free time.  And directly after that, the in-class Medieval History final.  And then the appointment at the local humane society.  And at some point, I have to drive home to pick up my sister, because she is photographing the animals while I write adorable, heart-warming profiles for them.

And then there is the Editing/Print Production portfolio, the magazine spread, the fourth hour requirement.  The Public Affairs final essay.  And the World History II final essays.

And then there is nothing.  And I will be a senior.  And I will have a few days to revel in that fact, and then there is C’s band concert; the engagement photo session; and the trip to California.

I haven’t even had a chance to research California.  And I’m always the one with the planned itinerary and packing list.  And I have nothing but an “I don’t care, whatever you think we should do is fine,” sort of answer when asked about what I want to do.

Which means that I had better figure that out soon, because otherwise it’ll be a month from now and I’ll say, “Why didn’t we do XYZ when we were in California?”


Miscellany Monday @ lowercase letters

+ srsly? Dear Army, I am frustrated with you.

+ quotables. My professor, who is Mormon, explained why he loves going to his wife’s (Lutheran) church.  “We read this thing and think about our sins for a little while — not too long, because that would be uncomfortable — and the preacher says, ‘As a called and ordained minister, I pronounce your sins forgiven.’ Ahhhhh.”  At that point, my professor started doing the whole spirit fingers thing.
“I’m being flippant, but I’m flippant about everyone — including those weird Mormons.” – Mormon professor
“Someone wrote on this with the wrong kind of chalk!” – medieval history professor, referring to permanent marker on a white board

+ lifetouch. My church (which will henceforth be referred to as “AG,” as opposed to the Baptist church Alan attends) hired Lifetouch photographers to take photos for the church directory.  Not only did the photographer try too hard (asking us to say such phrases as “The photographer’s a genius” — I never understood why photographers tell their subjects to talk while taking a photo), but he was completely unorganized and seemed to have no sense of direction.  He was also about 15 minutes late in setting up our session, even though everyone was required to schedule sessions (and I would imagine that scheduling is supposed to eliminate or reduce such inconveniences). He also pushed the photos a bit hard — I understand that he’s trying to sell his product, but no one is going to buy if the quality is poor. He took a few photos of Alan and me, and I wasn’t particularly fond of them (granted, I dislike having my photo taken by anyone, at any time), but we decided to purchase a few (and even after that he kept asking Alan if that was all he wanted). I was incredibly tempted to say, “No, thank you. We’ll just take the eight by ten because we’ve already hired a professional photographer to take our engagement photos.”

+ friends. On Friday evening, I met some friends at a local restaurant/bar.  I’ve never been to a bar before (minus the pubs in England, which were far classier and cooler than anything here … since I obviously have several years of experience backing that statement), but it was the lamest bar scene I’ve ever seen.  I was pretty sure some of those guys have been hanging out there since high school graduation. …  There’s also nothing like spending time with people who know you incredibly well because you spent at least 180 days a year together for 12 years.
There was the time I saw an Asian woman with her adorable little son and told my friends, “I want a cute little Asian baby!” to which they responded, “Bets, you can make one.”  That was at least four or five years ago.  And they still, to this day, remember that.
One of my friends offered me a sip of her drink, but I told her I couldn’t because I still had “twelve, four, minus eight days” until my twenty-first (the clock said March 4, my birthday is March 12 and in my head, I was saying “twelve minus four, eight days”).  Obviously, doing math in my head while looking at a clock and simultaneously speaking does not work well.
When more friends arrived, we moved to a larger table.  One of my friends sat a mostly empty glass on the larger table, and I asked what it was.  She replied, “Ben’s beer,” after which I asked what kind of beer that was … not realizing she meant that the beer had been purchased by Ben.  I earned a, “Bets, I don’t understand how you’re not blond” comment after that.

+ california. Alan and I are flying out to California to visit his family in May.  I’ve never been west of Detroit, so I’m excited to travel farther, to meet his family and to visit the beach (not in that order, because I was really worried I wouldn’t have an opportunity to meet the rest of his family before the wedding).
Remember when Real California Milk launched the campaign about cows auditioning to become the next happy cow?  I watched all of the videos and have to admit that I picked up a habit of saying, “California, California, hey!” when I’m in the dairy aisle of the grocery store.  I would also like to mention that I only say that when no one is around or when I don’t know anyone.

+ scary. I added this at 9:35 p.m. on Sunday evening.  It was sleeting when Alan and I left the house this afternoon, heading in opposite directions of the state.  It eventually knocked out the power at home, but turned to unrelenting rain the further south I drove.  My sister called around 9:20 to ask if I had heard from Alan, because he had not returned from dropping off the boys and my parents wanted to know if he went to church.  I think my heart stopped.  I didn’t think he had gone to church because of the weather, and I assumed he had simply gone home.  I sent text messages to Alan’s phone (hoping he was just at church, because I didn’t want to call), hoping that he was all right and but ready to sprint to the Jeep if I had to drive home.  He called me a few minutes later to let me know that he was all right, in spite of swerving off the road to avoid a car in his lane, having to be towed to church and then being stuck there because the church is on a hill and people couldn’t control their vehicles well enough to leave.
He’s now slowly on his way home, stuck behind the slow-moving plows, and my blood pressure is slowly returning to normal.  I’m ecstatic that he’s safe and angry that he scared me, even though it obviously wasn’t his fault.  Let’s never do this again.  Major props to the wives of deployed service members.

+  You visited me for dinner Wednesday evening!

+  We’re going to California this summer and I’m so excited to meet everyone and travel farther west than Detroit for once.

+ You gave me a lovely white orchid to liven up the apartment.  Hopefully it lives — it looked kind of sad yesterday morning.

+ I didn’t have a chance to read the card before I met you at dinner.  So, even though you didn’t tell me we were having Thai, and even though I didn’t read the note that told me to meet you at the Thai restaurant, I still went to the Thai restaurant. 🙂  I’d like to say that great minds think alike, but that saying always reminds me of Saturday morning cartoons and Genie saying, “Wrong!” and then highlighting famous people who did not think like everyone else.  So I’ll just say that we are awesome.