I started my second class today: EDSE 504 - Curriculum Inquiry. It's my last required class for my Master's degree; after this it's just my project and one last elective. I realize that the University has their reasons for requiring certain classes. 510 gets you started thinking about your research question and helps you learn to do academic research and write academic papers (APA, people, APA!!). 511 and 512 (depending on whether you're in a thesis or project based program) get you started on actually writing your final thesis/project. What I don't get are the curriculum courses. Or rather, why there are TWO of them that are required.
In my first curriculum course (503, the class from which I posted my final session notes here), we looked at the different ways in which people structure curriculum - kind of a "who's pulling the curricular strings and what's their agenda" coupled with a broad look at the different theoretical lenses through which people interpret curriculum. Sound riveting, right? Well, I didn't actively hate that class, but the only thing I remember from it is the idea of teachers helping students achieve transcendence - and only because that was the topic I chose for my final paper. Basically, teachers have a duty to their vocation to help students leave a class better than they were at the start. Reasonable, and didn't require me to compromise my own personal views to get a good grade, so I could handle it. But that's all I really remember from the class - that, and the distinct buzzing that would sound in my ears when people started talking about modernism, postmodernism, post-colonial perspectives, and psychoanalytical yadda yadda yadda.
I fear the same thing is happening already with this new class, and it scares me. It's only a three week course, three papers (one of which is half my grade), and a presentation. There are only 4 students in the class, and the other three women have just taken 503 this summer. My keen strategy of remaining mum on topics which I, quite frankly, have zero interest in, and making up any deficits the teacher may think I have through my strength in b.s.-ing papers, will not work. The prof. knows my name, dangit! And today, while there were some gems in his lecture that I could glom onto (hey, I know what the difference between modernism and post-modernism (or "pomo" for the cool kids) is!), there were also times when I caught myself thinking, "A lot of this sounds like complete and utter bullsh-tuff." Usually coupled with, "Who, outside of academia, cares?" There were also times when one of the other girls was commenting and throwing out names of famous academes, many of which our prof had cited in his papers we'd had to read for homework (before class even STARTED!), and I kept hearing Ben Stiller's voice in my head: "Don't be a kiss-ass". So mean, but it got to the point where every time this chick dropped another name, that was my first thought.
I didn't have this problem with my last class, but I realized that's because my last class was a.) in my particular research area, b.) taught by my supervising prof., and c.) focused on practical applications of digital technologies in the curriculum - moving from theory to actual use. It focused on HOW the technology should be used; everyone presented on software for classroom use, and put together a unit detailing how the technologies would be used to teach that unit. Actually, it was similar to what I am doing for my project...
(Okay, random sidebar: a storm front just blew in. And by blew in, I mean "The trees on the left side of my view started shaking before the trees on the right side as the storm moved overhead." Neato, but now I'm annoyed at the thunder.)
I'd kind of already figured this out, but today the point was driven home: I am not an academic. I doubt I ever will be. I just don't have the patience for it. I can't get enthused about discussing different theoretical lenses and the ways in which people interpret, well, anything. I. DON'T. CARE. Really, I just want to finish my project and get back to teaching. At this point, I'm not even picky about WHERE I teach, so long as I can be a teacher again.
Don't worry, Mum and Dad, this whole not-caring business isn't going to prevent me from doing everything I can to do well in class. I just get frustrated being forced to spend a lot of time participating in academic navel-gazing. I could be home reading a book.
UPDATE: So, I dropped the class. I will be postponing graduation until next April. It was a choice between total insanity with the distinct possiblity of a nervous breakdown (staying in the class), or mild insanity with a slight chance of jitters round about winter time (dropping it). I chose the latter. I have made my peace with it.
Monday, 30 July 2012
Saturday, 28 July 2012
Things I Could Do Without
I can't think of a good or funny intro to this post. The idea for it has been rolling around in my brain for a couple of weeks, but I couldn't muster up the energy to actually write about it since it really boils down to me complaining about things that have either been bugging me, or dumb things I did without pausing to think about the consequences. Anyway, here we go.
1. Thunderstorms. I'm over them. I haven't stopped to count how many thunderstorms we've had since I got back to Edmonton. The one that tried to flood my room was the first of many. I used to love thunderstorms; they gave me the shivers, like when you're reading the scary part of a book or watching a creepy movie, and you're scared but also slightly exhilarated because in the back of your mind you know that the book or movie isn't real so you enjoy being scared because it's just pretend-scared, not actually fearing-for-my-life-scared. Thunderstorms used to make me feel that way.
Now, I just want to smack the thunder and tell it to shut-up already.
I am a light sleeper; I sleep with a fan on to drown out noises that keep me awake: my own snoring, other people snoring, my own breathing, other people breathing, crickets, cars going by, birds (the window has to be closed for this one, otherwise they're too dang loud for the fan), and the weird mewing noise I make when I'm falling asleep laying on my back and start dreaming that I'm talking to someone and the dream talking causes me to attempt talking in my sleep but I'm not a sleep talker like Bec so it comes out as a mew. Anyways...
Thunder refuses to be drowned out by the fan, and my brain can't get used to it. It's too loud and inconsistent. About a week and a half ago a storm started, oh, right about the time I turned my light off for bed. And lasted the next two and a half hours. I couldn't relax because my body kept tensing for the inevitable crash every time I detected a flicker of lightning through my closed eyelids. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so annoying had it not been the night before I had to give a presentation/tutorial on Windows Movie Maker in class. Whatever joy I got from thunderstorms has since evaporated. Now I just get an annoyed feeling, kind of like - okay, you know how sometimes you think back on an unpleasant encounter with someone you dislike and years later you think of all the things you should have said but didn't at the time, so now every time you think about that encounter you get this angry, itchy, I-want-to-punch-someone feeling because you can't go back in time and say all the things you've thought of, and contacting that person to say them now isn't what rational adults do, and you're trying your hardest to be a rational adult even if you don't really like it because that's what society thinks you should be, so you don't contact them but every time you look back at that encounter you get that same feeling? That's me and thunderstorms.
2. Tumbleweed made of cat hair. Today I got one of my crazy cleaning urges. These come upon me every couple of months or so, and I know my mum loves it because I'll do things like clean the entire kitchen (even wiping down the counters) or the rec room. I think it's part boredom, part sporadic OCD/germaphobia that leads to these urges. Well, today I decided it would be a good idea to vacuum the carpets and sweep the floors.
You guys, I almost DIED.
The weather was nice and cool so I decided to open the doors and windows to let air move through the house. Sweeping in the basement wasn't too bad, although Gus decided to let me sweep the entire laundry room floor and dispose of the sprayed kitty litter before taking a dump and spraying more litter everywhere when he covered it up and hopped out. Brat. Then I did the middle floor, which was less fun, but still manageable, and the central vac sucker-up place in the kitchen floor was very helpful.
It was when I got to my room that everything went south. I had been sweeping with the broom, then vacuuming up the tumbleweeds and assorted debris with the hand vac. But I guess it's been a while since I swept or vacuumed under my desk, because there was a colony of dust bunny/tumbleweed hybrids living under it, and they took an exception to my eviction notice. I thought it would be okay. I got everything gathered in a nice little pile in the middle of the hallway, got on my hands and knees to use the hand vac, and then...a breeze blew through my open window, giving the bunnyweeds an opportunity to launch an air assault on my nose and mouth. Only my quick reflexes and the fact that my hand was already on the switch for the hand vac saved me from what would have been an untimely and gruesome demise at the hands of Lilycathairbunnyweeds.
3. Watching "Pitch Black" and other scary movies before bedtime. I should have learned from "Signs". I should have learned from years of watching "Supernatural". I should have learned from watching "Jurassic Park", and "Independence Day" and reading assorted R.L. Stein books back in the day (Fear Street, not Goosebumps). I don't do well with scary material right before bedtime. My imagination is a tiny bit hyperactive when it's dark and I've just watched or read something scary. The other night, "Pitch Black" and "The Chronicles of Riddick" were on AMC, so I DVR'd them to watch later. I have a grudging, almost unwilling attraction to Vin Diesel DON'T JUDGE ME!!
I decided the next evening that "Pitch Black" + nail painting = FUN TYMES!! And for the first little while it was. Vin Diesel's physique strikes a perfect balance between nicely muscled and grotesquely sculpted, which makes up for the deficiencies of his face and acting abilities (ooh, I'm such a meanie). The movie itself didn't scar me for life or anything, but the premise - creatures that are harmed by light, hunt in the dark, and aren't picky about what or whom they eat? Well, it's all entertainment watching people get munched until you're in your room...in the dark...and there are shadows you can't identify because you're nearly blind without your glasses or contact lenses, and your hyperactive imagination is constructing various scenarios in which you are gruesomely devoured by flying sightless beasties because you can't hide in their echolocation blind spot like Riddick because you're lying flat on your bed so they'll find you and eat you unless you can snap the light on quickly enough so you practice your speed light-turning-on abilities, then feel really stupid once the light is back on because, hello, it's a movie, and not even a very good one at that and you are a rational sometimes-adult so start acting like one and go to sleep!
Anyway, I probably shouldn't watch scary movies before bedtime anymore. "Chronicles of Riddick" last night didn't count, because it's not scary, not really, not when Karl Urban has a ridiculous mullet/braid/ponytail hairdo and chews the scenery like a dog that's failed obedience school chews shoes.
4. School. Particularly summer school. Please, family, friends, loved ones of all sorts, please don't ever let me go back for another degree. If I ever start talking about it, remind me of how much I hate school. Remind me of how painful it is to have to go to school every day, and do homework, and get graded on it. Remind me of how much I freak when I get a 6/8 on a blog post where three weeks' worth of posts count as only 10% of my grade. Remind me of how I dislike giving presentations to my classmates where they have the opportunity to grill me on how my activities promote higher-level cognitive strategies through the use of technology, so I stress about it for two weeks to the point where Cathie invites a middle-schooler over to give me her real-live-student feedback on what I have begun to suspect is a crazy person's idea of a good technology-based project. Because I've only been in school for three weeks - I've done one of my two summer courses - and I'm hoping I can squeeze out a little more effort for the next class, but right now I'm so done with school I'm afraid I'll totally slack on this next class.
Also, remind me of how much I dislike professors who e-mail homework assignments that needs to be completed BEFORE the first class session. That's cheating! We haven't even HAD class yet! You can't give me homework!
5. Eating McDonald's french fries right before bed. Too salty. Woke up ridiculously bloated. I could do without a repeat.
Okay, rant over.
1. Thunderstorms. I'm over them. I haven't stopped to count how many thunderstorms we've had since I got back to Edmonton. The one that tried to flood my room was the first of many. I used to love thunderstorms; they gave me the shivers, like when you're reading the scary part of a book or watching a creepy movie, and you're scared but also slightly exhilarated because in the back of your mind you know that the book or movie isn't real so you enjoy being scared because it's just pretend-scared, not actually fearing-for-my-life-scared. Thunderstorms used to make me feel that way.
Now, I just want to smack the thunder and tell it to shut-up already.
I am a light sleeper; I sleep with a fan on to drown out noises that keep me awake: my own snoring, other people snoring, my own breathing, other people breathing, crickets, cars going by, birds (the window has to be closed for this one, otherwise they're too dang loud for the fan), and the weird mewing noise I make when I'm falling asleep laying on my back and start dreaming that I'm talking to someone and the dream talking causes me to attempt talking in my sleep but I'm not a sleep talker like Bec so it comes out as a mew. Anyways...
Thunder refuses to be drowned out by the fan, and my brain can't get used to it. It's too loud and inconsistent. About a week and a half ago a storm started, oh, right about the time I turned my light off for bed. And lasted the next two and a half hours. I couldn't relax because my body kept tensing for the inevitable crash every time I detected a flicker of lightning through my closed eyelids. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so annoying had it not been the night before I had to give a presentation/tutorial on Windows Movie Maker in class. Whatever joy I got from thunderstorms has since evaporated. Now I just get an annoyed feeling, kind of like - okay, you know how sometimes you think back on an unpleasant encounter with someone you dislike and years later you think of all the things you should have said but didn't at the time, so now every time you think about that encounter you get this angry, itchy, I-want-to-punch-someone feeling because you can't go back in time and say all the things you've thought of, and contacting that person to say them now isn't what rational adults do, and you're trying your hardest to be a rational adult even if you don't really like it because that's what society thinks you should be, so you don't contact them but every time you look back at that encounter you get that same feeling? That's me and thunderstorms.
2. Tumbleweed made of cat hair. Today I got one of my crazy cleaning urges. These come upon me every couple of months or so, and I know my mum loves it because I'll do things like clean the entire kitchen (even wiping down the counters) or the rec room. I think it's part boredom, part sporadic OCD/germaphobia that leads to these urges. Well, today I decided it would be a good idea to vacuum the carpets and sweep the floors.
You guys, I almost DIED.
The weather was nice and cool so I decided to open the doors and windows to let air move through the house. Sweeping in the basement wasn't too bad, although Gus decided to let me sweep the entire laundry room floor and dispose of the sprayed kitty litter before taking a dump and spraying more litter everywhere when he covered it up and hopped out. Brat. Then I did the middle floor, which was less fun, but still manageable, and the central vac sucker-up place in the kitchen floor was very helpful.
It was when I got to my room that everything went south. I had been sweeping with the broom, then vacuuming up the tumbleweeds and assorted debris with the hand vac. But I guess it's been a while since I swept or vacuumed under my desk, because there was a colony of dust bunny/tumbleweed hybrids living under it, and they took an exception to my eviction notice. I thought it would be okay. I got everything gathered in a nice little pile in the middle of the hallway, got on my hands and knees to use the hand vac, and then...a breeze blew through my open window, giving the bunnyweeds an opportunity to launch an air assault on my nose and mouth. Only my quick reflexes and the fact that my hand was already on the switch for the hand vac saved me from what would have been an untimely and gruesome demise at the hands of Lilycathairbunnyweeds.
3. Watching "Pitch Black" and other scary movies before bedtime. I should have learned from "Signs". I should have learned from years of watching "Supernatural". I should have learned from watching "Jurassic Park", and "Independence Day" and reading assorted R.L. Stein books back in the day (Fear Street, not Goosebumps). I don't do well with scary material right before bedtime. My imagination is a tiny bit hyperactive when it's dark and I've just watched or read something scary. The other night, "Pitch Black" and "The Chronicles of Riddick" were on AMC, so I DVR'd them to watch later. I have a grudging, almost unwilling attraction to Vin Diesel DON'T JUDGE ME!!
I decided the next evening that "Pitch Black" + nail painting = FUN TYMES!! And for the first little while it was. Vin Diesel's physique strikes a perfect balance between nicely muscled and grotesquely sculpted, which makes up for the deficiencies of his face and acting abilities (ooh, I'm such a meanie). The movie itself didn't scar me for life or anything, but the premise - creatures that are harmed by light, hunt in the dark, and aren't picky about what or whom they eat? Well, it's all entertainment watching people get munched until you're in your room...in the dark...and there are shadows you can't identify because you're nearly blind without your glasses or contact lenses, and your hyperactive imagination is constructing various scenarios in which you are gruesomely devoured by flying sightless beasties because you can't hide in their echolocation blind spot like Riddick because you're lying flat on your bed so they'll find you and eat you unless you can snap the light on quickly enough so you practice your speed light-turning-on abilities, then feel really stupid once the light is back on because, hello, it's a movie, and not even a very good one at that and you are a rational sometimes-adult so start acting like one and go to sleep!
Anyway, I probably shouldn't watch scary movies before bedtime anymore. "Chronicles of Riddick" last night didn't count, because it's not scary, not really, not when Karl Urban has a ridiculous mullet/braid/ponytail hairdo and chews the scenery like a dog that's failed obedience school chews shoes.
4. School. Particularly summer school. Please, family, friends, loved ones of all sorts, please don't ever let me go back for another degree. If I ever start talking about it, remind me of how much I hate school. Remind me of how painful it is to have to go to school every day, and do homework, and get graded on it. Remind me of how much I freak when I get a 6/8 on a blog post where three weeks' worth of posts count as only 10% of my grade. Remind me of how I dislike giving presentations to my classmates where they have the opportunity to grill me on how my activities promote higher-level cognitive strategies through the use of technology, so I stress about it for two weeks to the point where Cathie invites a middle-schooler over to give me her real-live-student feedback on what I have begun to suspect is a crazy person's idea of a good technology-based project. Because I've only been in school for three weeks - I've done one of my two summer courses - and I'm hoping I can squeeze out a little more effort for the next class, but right now I'm so done with school I'm afraid I'll totally slack on this next class.
Also, remind me of how much I dislike professors who e-mail homework assignments that needs to be completed BEFORE the first class session. That's cheating! We haven't even HAD class yet! You can't give me homework!
5. Eating McDonald's french fries right before bed. Too salty. Woke up ridiculously bloated. I could do without a repeat.
Okay, rant over.
Thursday, 12 July 2012
A Ripsnortin' Welcome Back
I have returned to the Great White North. Except right now it would be better labelled the Great Green North. I guess this much beautiful foliage is the payoff for ridiculous winters, eh? My return trip wasn't quite as adventure filled as last time (no fires blocking the highway, accidents, etc.) although I did have an A-MA-ZING Fourth of July. My dear sweet mother bought tickets to Stadium of Fire, so we went with JD and Megan to see the Beach Boys and a fireworks show partially dedicated to celebrating the 50th anniversary of James Bond. Yeah, it was as cool as you think.
Anyways, my return has been relatively uneventful, with the exception of a head cold which developed the day before classes started. But even that's going away now, so no big.
No, the major event that Edmonton threw to welcome me back to the north countries was, in true Canadian form, weather related.
Now, it's not like I've never experienced a thunderstorm before. We don't get a TON of them in Moreno Valley (although apparently a lot more since I've left), and the ones we do get aren't as loud and powerful as they get in, say, Texas (although we did get those tornadoes that one time). They knock the power out, sure, but our power goes out in a high wind, the box is so old, so that may be more wussy-power box related than the strength of the storm.
I've also experienced the "monsoon season" during the summer in Arizona, where a high wind storm kick starts the evening before the thunderstorm begins. I'm still not sure what Jonny and I were thinking, continuing to shoot in the archery range after the power went out. At least we had the sense to call out when one of us went down range to retrieve the arrows.
But last night...oy, last night.
Mum was up here, so I was sleeping on the couch in the basement. Since the cats are used to having their litter box down in the basement (we moved it while I was down there), I kept the door closed. I am not one of those cat owners who allows 24/7 access for my friendly felines. Boundaries, people, boundaries. I also sleep with a fan on every night - I need the white noise to fall asleep.
So imagine my surprise when I awoke early this AM to what sounded at first like...applause? I was dreaming, but I think it had to do with zombies (thanks, Walking Dead black and white series premier!), so...who's applauding? As I became fully conscious, the sound sharpened to water falling. A lot of water falling. My first thought was that a pipe had burst in the basement by the washing machine, and any second I would feel the rush of water move through the room. I got up to check - no water in the basement, but I was definitely hearing pouring water. My next thought was that someone was running the shower upstairs and had the door open, but I checked the time (3:33 - really) and that seemed highly unlikely. So I went upstairs to check.
And walked into a dance club. At least that was my first thought. (I was still a little sleepy, okay?) Then I realized that the strobing effect was due to the lightning flashes outside. Really, I almost wanted to start blasting "Evacuate the Dancefloor" or some other club-worthy song. Once I realized that there was a serious storm happening, and that the noise I was hearing WAS water falling - a LOT of water falling - my brain gradually worked out that the volume wasn't solely due to the amount of rain happening, but also because the windows were open. All over the house.
A quick check of the (south facing) kitchen windows revealed that very little water was coming in - just a little mist, but I closed them anyway. The living room windows (north facing) were a different story - things were definitely getting wet, so those were closed as well. I almost went back down stairs, but was stopped by two thoughts:
1. I should totally get my camera and take some video of this ridiculous storm (it had started hailing by that point) - crap, it's in my room (where Mum was sleeping), and
2. I wonder if Mum and Cathie have realized it's pouring out, and if they've closed the windows.
I went upstairs and saw Cathie looking out her window, so I didn't bother pointing out the obvious. Mum looked like she was asleep, and I tried very hard not to startle her awake (she sleeps with earplugs) - I failed. I explained I was just checking the window, and sure enough, the water was coming in and misting everything on the desk...including my lappy (aah!).
Thankfully, there wasn't enough water to do damage. I wiped my stuff off, said goodnight to Mum, and walked back toward the door...and into a...puddle? On my floor? NOT by the window?
Turns out the reason the water didn't get all over my desk and lappy was because there is a slight tilt to my windowsill. The water collected on the sill, then ran down the wall to the side of my desk and across the floor. Yup. I had a waterfall in my bedroom last night, and a river running through my room. I wanted to take pictures, but I was too worried about my stuff.
This is another time when I'm grateful Heavenly Father is watching out for me, because while it was annoying to have to wipe up the water, nothing was damaged. It went straight down the wall by the desk, under my plastic storage bins (which were easy to wipe), and straight across the floor - missing the power strip with multiple electronics plugged into it by less than two inches.
After cleaning up the minor flood, we joined Cathie in her room to watch the death of her beautiful garden - the hail was going all Red Queen "Off with their heads" to the flowers. It was very tragic - much flora lost its life last night. I did get a couple of pictures, once the hail had calmed down - but for some reason the resolution on them sucks, so I apologize for the blurriness.
Anyways, my return has been relatively uneventful, with the exception of a head cold which developed the day before classes started. But even that's going away now, so no big.
No, the major event that Edmonton threw to welcome me back to the north countries was, in true Canadian form, weather related.
Now, it's not like I've never experienced a thunderstorm before. We don't get a TON of them in Moreno Valley (although apparently a lot more since I've left), and the ones we do get aren't as loud and powerful as they get in, say, Texas (although we did get those tornadoes that one time). They knock the power out, sure, but our power goes out in a high wind, the box is so old, so that may be more wussy-power box related than the strength of the storm.
I've also experienced the "monsoon season" during the summer in Arizona, where a high wind storm kick starts the evening before the thunderstorm begins. I'm still not sure what Jonny and I were thinking, continuing to shoot in the archery range after the power went out. At least we had the sense to call out when one of us went down range to retrieve the arrows.
But last night...oy, last night.
Mum was up here, so I was sleeping on the couch in the basement. Since the cats are used to having their litter box down in the basement (we moved it while I was down there), I kept the door closed. I am not one of those cat owners who allows 24/7 access for my friendly felines. Boundaries, people, boundaries. I also sleep with a fan on every night - I need the white noise to fall asleep.
So imagine my surprise when I awoke early this AM to what sounded at first like...applause? I was dreaming, but I think it had to do with zombies (thanks, Walking Dead black and white series premier!), so...who's applauding? As I became fully conscious, the sound sharpened to water falling. A lot of water falling. My first thought was that a pipe had burst in the basement by the washing machine, and any second I would feel the rush of water move through the room. I got up to check - no water in the basement, but I was definitely hearing pouring water. My next thought was that someone was running the shower upstairs and had the door open, but I checked the time (3:33 - really) and that seemed highly unlikely. So I went upstairs to check.
And walked into a dance club. At least that was my first thought. (I was still a little sleepy, okay?) Then I realized that the strobing effect was due to the lightning flashes outside. Really, I almost wanted to start blasting "Evacuate the Dancefloor" or some other club-worthy song. Once I realized that there was a serious storm happening, and that the noise I was hearing WAS water falling - a LOT of water falling - my brain gradually worked out that the volume wasn't solely due to the amount of rain happening, but also because the windows were open. All over the house.
A quick check of the (south facing) kitchen windows revealed that very little water was coming in - just a little mist, but I closed them anyway. The living room windows (north facing) were a different story - things were definitely getting wet, so those were closed as well. I almost went back down stairs, but was stopped by two thoughts:
1. I should totally get my camera and take some video of this ridiculous storm (it had started hailing by that point) - crap, it's in my room (where Mum was sleeping), and
2. I wonder if Mum and Cathie have realized it's pouring out, and if they've closed the windows.
I went upstairs and saw Cathie looking out her window, so I didn't bother pointing out the obvious. Mum looked like she was asleep, and I tried very hard not to startle her awake (she sleeps with earplugs) - I failed. I explained I was just checking the window, and sure enough, the water was coming in and misting everything on the desk...including my lappy (aah!).
Thankfully, there wasn't enough water to do damage. I wiped my stuff off, said goodnight to Mum, and walked back toward the door...and into a...puddle? On my floor? NOT by the window?
Turns out the reason the water didn't get all over my desk and lappy was because there is a slight tilt to my windowsill. The water collected on the sill, then ran down the wall to the side of my desk and across the floor. Yup. I had a waterfall in my bedroom last night, and a river running through my room. I wanted to take pictures, but I was too worried about my stuff.
This is another time when I'm grateful Heavenly Father is watching out for me, because while it was annoying to have to wipe up the water, nothing was damaged. It went straight down the wall by the desk, under my plastic storage bins (which were easy to wipe), and straight across the floor - missing the power strip with multiple electronics plugged into it by less than two inches.
After cleaning up the minor flood, we joined Cathie in her room to watch the death of her beautiful garden - the hail was going all Red Queen "Off with their heads" to the flowers. It was very tragic - much flora lost its life last night. I did get a couple of pictures, once the hail had calmed down - but for some reason the resolution on them sucks, so I apologize for the blurriness.
Oh, hail.
Um, weather? It's not winter! Stop it with all the white!
I was just looking at the weather forecast...seems we are due for more thunderstorms. They're all the rage this summer, from what I read on Facebook. Stay safe, friends!
Friday, 6 April 2012
Adventures in Sunless Tanning
As many of you already know, I began a regimen of indoor tanning in order to be nice and brown(ish) for JD and Megan's wedding. I didn't want to glow in the dark, especially since everyone else is already naturally darker than me and I've spent winter in Canada. And while we are now getting far more sunlight here than y'all down south, it's snowed twice in the past two weeks, so sunbathing is not an option.
While I have actually enjoyed indoor tanning in a UV bed (once I figured out that, yes, I DO need to wear my swimsuit), I wanted to try the OTHER method of tanning that is all the rage. Yes, yes, I caved and tried the Mystic Spray Tan at my local tanning salon.
Mistake.
First, I am naturally fair skinned. Really fair skinned. Really, REALLY fair skinned, so that when I buy things like powder and foundation for my face, I have to get the color known as "Ivory" - which is make-up speak for "Any paler and we'd be selling you flour in a pocket compact, which would feel immoral, so we'll put the teensiest bit of pale beige in it, and call it good". This means that when I DO get color from sun exposure, it tends to be reddish - not always a sunburn (although that happens more often than not), but a tan color firmly in the "rosy" category. And freckles. LOTS of freckles.
So what does this mean for spray tanning? Well, it means that I have a lovely, golden cast to my skin right now. And it looks weird. It looks weird because even when I am tan, I'm never this color. I don't get golden brown I get reddish brown. I actually wanted to try the spray tanning to see what the effect would be on my legs. Well, they're golden brown. And it looks...bizarre.
Second, my hands also look bizarre. See, after spray tanning you're supposed to wash off your hands and feet, then put on this lotion that stops the fake tan from soaking into your skin, because it looks weird on fingers and toes. I did this. Immediately after the session was done, I washed and wiped my hands, and used the tanner-blocking lotion. It didn't work. My hands, particularly my right hand, have little brownish-orange streaks along my fingers. I look like a smoker with a ten-pack-a-day habit and permanent nicotine stains to go with it. At least my toes are so small (pickle toes, Becca calls them) that, if they are streaked, it's unnoticeable.
Third, I smell funny. (No jokes, FAMILY.) Using sunless tanner from a bottle leaves a smell that goes away after a few hours, and I only ever use it on my legs so it doesn't bother me much. I am currently covered in sunless tanner from a spray pump machine thingy, and it smells like the bottle stuff, times, like, a thousand. And I can't get away from the smell. I have even taken a shower since my spray tanning session (scrubbing violently at my skin), and I still smell like bottle tan. It's horrible. Last night while trying to go to sleep, I kept adjusting my position and then flipping the blanket over me. Every time I did I got a big "whoof" of spray tan smell. Even sitting here at my desk, I feel like there's a cartoon cloud of stink lines wafting around my body.
So, life lessons learned from this experience? 1. Fair complexions and golden spray tanning don't mix well. 2. Spray tanning stinks - literally. I am going to continue normal indoor tanning until I head south for the spring, but I have now sated my curiosity regarding spray tanning. I do not feel the need to try it EVER AGAIN.
Also, my tummy is brown, which is freaking me out.
While I have actually enjoyed indoor tanning in a UV bed (once I figured out that, yes, I DO need to wear my swimsuit), I wanted to try the OTHER method of tanning that is all the rage. Yes, yes, I caved and tried the Mystic Spray Tan at my local tanning salon.
Mistake.
First, I am naturally fair skinned. Really fair skinned. Really, REALLY fair skinned, so that when I buy things like powder and foundation for my face, I have to get the color known as "Ivory" - which is make-up speak for "Any paler and we'd be selling you flour in a pocket compact, which would feel immoral, so we'll put the teensiest bit of pale beige in it, and call it good". This means that when I DO get color from sun exposure, it tends to be reddish - not always a sunburn (although that happens more often than not), but a tan color firmly in the "rosy" category. And freckles. LOTS of freckles.
So what does this mean for spray tanning? Well, it means that I have a lovely, golden cast to my skin right now. And it looks weird. It looks weird because even when I am tan, I'm never this color. I don't get golden brown I get reddish brown. I actually wanted to try the spray tanning to see what the effect would be on my legs. Well, they're golden brown. And it looks...bizarre.
Second, my hands also look bizarre. See, after spray tanning you're supposed to wash off your hands and feet, then put on this lotion that stops the fake tan from soaking into your skin, because it looks weird on fingers and toes. I did this. Immediately after the session was done, I washed and wiped my hands, and used the tanner-blocking lotion. It didn't work. My hands, particularly my right hand, have little brownish-orange streaks along my fingers. I look like a smoker with a ten-pack-a-day habit and permanent nicotine stains to go with it. At least my toes are so small (pickle toes, Becca calls them) that, if they are streaked, it's unnoticeable.
Third, I smell funny. (No jokes, FAMILY.) Using sunless tanner from a bottle leaves a smell that goes away after a few hours, and I only ever use it on my legs so it doesn't bother me much. I am currently covered in sunless tanner from a spray pump machine thingy, and it smells like the bottle stuff, times, like, a thousand. And I can't get away from the smell. I have even taken a shower since my spray tanning session (scrubbing violently at my skin), and I still smell like bottle tan. It's horrible. Last night while trying to go to sleep, I kept adjusting my position and then flipping the blanket over me. Every time I did I got a big "whoof" of spray tan smell. Even sitting here at my desk, I feel like there's a cartoon cloud of stink lines wafting around my body.
So, life lessons learned from this experience? 1. Fair complexions and golden spray tanning don't mix well. 2. Spray tanning stinks - literally. I am going to continue normal indoor tanning until I head south for the spring, but I have now sated my curiosity regarding spray tanning. I do not feel the need to try it EVER AGAIN.
Also, my tummy is brown, which is freaking me out.
Monday, 26 March 2012
Bits and Pieces
I realized today that it's been a while (almost ten days) since I posted anything. This is not in keeping with my goal of writing more. Today's entry is kind of scattershot, and slightly tangential. It may also be kind of, um, nonsensical - I took cold medicine a little while ago and it's starting to work. I can tell, because the room is slightly wobbly. Or maybe I'm wobbly. Possibly both. This should be fun...
Update on tanning: I'm still going, but I have decided it would be in my best interests to wear my bathing suit while tanning. This is because I have developed heat rashes in uncomfortable places. I will say no more on the issue, other than reporting that it's (kind of) working. The parts of me that normally tan (arms, upper chest, shoulders, face) have color, and my legs look less pale than before (they don't qualify as "tan" yet, but they no longer glow in the dark - progress!).
I have "Where is My Mind?" stuck in my head right now. Answer: No idea. None.
It's probably stuck there because I watched a bit of Fight Club the other night. About two minutes after I started watching, Edward Norton and Brad Pitt go raid a liposuction facility for fat to make soap. I lasted until the fat bag snagged on the barbed wire fence, then I had to change the channel. And concentrate on not barfing. I flipped back a few minutes later, just in time to see Brad Pitt dump lye on Edward Norton's hand. I decided to skip that movie for now - especially since I already know the "twist" at the end.
I was supposed to go curling at a mid-singles event last week. I had a presentation the next day though, and I didn't feel entirely prepared for it, so I skipped curling in order to work on the presentation. Turns out I needn't have bothered - I was over-prepared. Lame. Curling would have made a great blog entry. It's the ice sport kind of like darts, but instead of throwing darts you slide stones down a lane of ice and try to get them to stop in a target. You are allowed to broom the ice in order to get the stone to slide where you want it. You can also knock other people's rocks out of the target area. It could have been really fun. Stupid presentation :-(
Our ward choir, for which I am the accompanist, performed yesterday in church for Easter. We did two songs, There is a Green Hill Far Away (the Hymnplicity version) and Long Ago, Within a Garden. I was slightly loopy from lack of sleep (thanks, cold!), and mixed up two pages of There is a Green Hill. Thankfully I realized the mix up right at the end of one verse, so the choir sang the next verse a capella while I switched my pages, and then I joined them on the third verse. You'd almost think we'd planned it that way :-) The second song went better, until the very last four measures, of which I managed to butcher three. B the choir director swears up and down that she didn't even notice, so she's sure nobody else did. I'd have been more embarrassed and annoyed (considering I'd been faithfully practising it for a month and had the ending NAILED the day before), but I was too tired. I even crapped out on cleaning the temple this morning, after ducking out last Friday to go see The Hunger Games. But I'm making it up this Friday, presuming I'm not still plague-ridden.
POSSIBLE SPOILERS!! I really liked The Hunger Games, but there were a >couple< of small details I feel they could have added or changed. The camera work, for one, drove me crazy - I'm over the handheld "technique". Really, if I wanted shaky camera work, I'd watch my family's old home movies. God invented tripods and camera stands for a reason - don't disregard them for the sake of "art". And I think the mutts at the end, which were already CGI'd, should have looked like the dead tributes the way they're described in the book. There's an element of mental screwing that's missing when they're just giant bulldogs. Also, anyone else sad that Peeta wasn't so dying that Katniss freaks out when they take him away on the hovercraft? I think that'd have also sold the whole mind-screwing aspect of the games as well. Otherwise, though, I loved it and I will be seeing it again when the crowds die down but next time I will sit in the BACK of the theater. Shaky camera work viewed up close is barf-inducing.
I have wasted far too much of my life on a wonderful little website entitled Reasoning with Vampires. It's by the lovely Dana, who does a nearly page-by-page analysis of everything that is wrong in the Twilight series. She goes over grammar, spelling, and punctuation issues; she also points out just how screwed up the characters are, and you know what? Bella and Edward are loathsome people. I will confess, I was into Twilight and eagerly read the entire series. Then came the movies, and seeing them acted out...yeah, Bella and Edward are screwed up - particularly Bella. I seem to recall a conversation between Becca and me, after seeing New Moon, in which we agreed that Charlie should have had her committed after finding her in the woods when Edward left. NO BOY is worth going catatonic over, and pursuing dangerous hobbies in order to hear you ex-lover's voice is so monumentally screwed up that I need swear words to accurately describe it, which I won't use because my parents read this. Anyways, so yeah, Reasoning with Vampires = new favy site.
Ooh, the basement is almost totally finished! There's a couch, a TV, a rug, and a fireplace! The fireplace is one of the fake electric heater kinds, so it's cozy without baking you on one side. The rug is SUPER CUTE with giant pink, green, orange, and blue flowers. The couch is a grey sectional that can double as a bed (Gillian, visits? Maybe?), and we got some cute throw blankets to keep the cats from kneading it to death. And the TV is a big ol' LCD. It's a very nice basement. Now I just need to remember to set the PVR to record shows down there. Right now all I have are some episodes of The Walking Dead.
I think I'm gonna have to start reading The Walking Dead graphic novels. I know the show doesn't follow them exactly, or we'd have been rid of Shane long ago, but I am interested in knowing their story. It'll have to wait, though - I am not committed to purchasing them, and the waiting list at the library is over 50 people long. Anybody wanna let me borrow theirs?
Okay, I'm done now. The letters on the screen are starting to wiggle of their own accord. I think I'll go lie down.
Update on tanning: I'm still going, but I have decided it would be in my best interests to wear my bathing suit while tanning. This is because I have developed heat rashes in uncomfortable places. I will say no more on the issue, other than reporting that it's (kind of) working. The parts of me that normally tan (arms, upper chest, shoulders, face) have color, and my legs look less pale than before (they don't qualify as "tan" yet, but they no longer glow in the dark - progress!).
I have "Where is My Mind?" stuck in my head right now. Answer: No idea. None.
It's probably stuck there because I watched a bit of Fight Club the other night. About two minutes after I started watching, Edward Norton and Brad Pitt go raid a liposuction facility for fat to make soap. I lasted until the fat bag snagged on the barbed wire fence, then I had to change the channel. And concentrate on not barfing. I flipped back a few minutes later, just in time to see Brad Pitt dump lye on Edward Norton's hand. I decided to skip that movie for now - especially since I already know the "twist" at the end.
I was supposed to go curling at a mid-singles event last week. I had a presentation the next day though, and I didn't feel entirely prepared for it, so I skipped curling in order to work on the presentation. Turns out I needn't have bothered - I was over-prepared. Lame. Curling would have made a great blog entry. It's the ice sport kind of like darts, but instead of throwing darts you slide stones down a lane of ice and try to get them to stop in a target. You are allowed to broom the ice in order to get the stone to slide where you want it. You can also knock other people's rocks out of the target area. It could have been really fun. Stupid presentation :-(
Our ward choir, for which I am the accompanist, performed yesterday in church for Easter. We did two songs, There is a Green Hill Far Away (the Hymnplicity version) and Long Ago, Within a Garden. I was slightly loopy from lack of sleep (thanks, cold!), and mixed up two pages of There is a Green Hill. Thankfully I realized the mix up right at the end of one verse, so the choir sang the next verse a capella while I switched my pages, and then I joined them on the third verse. You'd almost think we'd planned it that way :-) The second song went better, until the very last four measures, of which I managed to butcher three. B the choir director swears up and down that she didn't even notice, so she's sure nobody else did. I'd have been more embarrassed and annoyed (considering I'd been faithfully practising it for a month and had the ending NAILED the day before), but I was too tired. I even crapped out on cleaning the temple this morning, after ducking out last Friday to go see The Hunger Games. But I'm making it up this Friday, presuming I'm not still plague-ridden.
POSSIBLE SPOILERS!! I really liked The Hunger Games, but there were a >couple< of small details I feel they could have added or changed. The camera work, for one, drove me crazy - I'm over the handheld "technique". Really, if I wanted shaky camera work, I'd watch my family's old home movies. God invented tripods and camera stands for a reason - don't disregard them for the sake of "art". And I think the mutts at the end, which were already CGI'd, should have looked like the dead tributes the way they're described in the book. There's an element of mental screwing that's missing when they're just giant bulldogs. Also, anyone else sad that Peeta wasn't so dying that Katniss freaks out when they take him away on the hovercraft? I think that'd have also sold the whole mind-screwing aspect of the games as well. Otherwise, though, I loved it and I will be seeing it again when the crowds die down but next time I will sit in the BACK of the theater. Shaky camera work viewed up close is barf-inducing.
I have wasted far too much of my life on a wonderful little website entitled Reasoning with Vampires. It's by the lovely Dana, who does a nearly page-by-page analysis of everything that is wrong in the Twilight series. She goes over grammar, spelling, and punctuation issues; she also points out just how screwed up the characters are, and you know what? Bella and Edward are loathsome people. I will confess, I was into Twilight and eagerly read the entire series. Then came the movies, and seeing them acted out...yeah, Bella and Edward are screwed up - particularly Bella. I seem to recall a conversation between Becca and me, after seeing New Moon, in which we agreed that Charlie should have had her committed after finding her in the woods when Edward left. NO BOY is worth going catatonic over, and pursuing dangerous hobbies in order to hear you ex-lover's voice is so monumentally screwed up that I need swear words to accurately describe it, which I won't use because my parents read this. Anyways, so yeah, Reasoning with Vampires = new favy site.
Ooh, the basement is almost totally finished! There's a couch, a TV, a rug, and a fireplace! The fireplace is one of the fake electric heater kinds, so it's cozy without baking you on one side. The rug is SUPER CUTE with giant pink, green, orange, and blue flowers. The couch is a grey sectional that can double as a bed (Gillian, visits? Maybe?), and we got some cute throw blankets to keep the cats from kneading it to death. And the TV is a big ol' LCD. It's a very nice basement. Now I just need to remember to set the PVR to record shows down there. Right now all I have are some episodes of The Walking Dead.
I think I'm gonna have to start reading The Walking Dead graphic novels. I know the show doesn't follow them exactly, or we'd have been rid of Shane long ago, but I am interested in knowing their story. It'll have to wait, though - I am not committed to purchasing them, and the waiting list at the library is over 50 people long. Anybody wanna let me borrow theirs?
Okay, I'm done now. The letters on the screen are starting to wiggle of their own accord. I think I'll go lie down.
Saturday, 17 March 2012
Idol Sun Worhip
So, this week I embarked on another new adventure. It didn't require me to go far, and it's something I have wanted to try for a long time, but have never been brave enough, until now. Were it not for the necessity created by a) finding the CUTEST red high heels that I REALLY want to wear to church and b) being informed I was to be a bridesmaid in April, I probably would not have tried it. But while looking at dress patterns, and later while showing off my red shoes to Cathie, I realized the awful truth.
I was paler than shaving cream on a snow man.
Cathie saw this, looked at me, and suggested I consider self tanning at least my legs before I show them off in any way shape or form. "Beyond butt white" "dead fish-belly white" and "corpse-like pallor" are all terms that aptly described the condition of my legs. And I could blame it on winter in Edmonton, like, when are my legs EVER going to see the sun, but honestly? My mid-summer "tan" is only half a shade darker than my legs in mid-winter, if that. Or has an orangey-yellow look I like to call "jaundice" resulting from experiments with self-tanning lotion. I concurred that something needed to be done, since I didn't want to have an entirely bottle-provided tan. So I decided the time had come to join the ranks of naturally pale-skinned people everywhere, and do something for which I used to mock others (including my own family members).
Yup. I went indoor tanning this week.
It was a little weird, walking in to the neighborhood tanning salon. The girl working there was really nice, and I feel kind of bad, because I walked in (nervously, like I was part of a shady drug deal, or something), she said "Hi, can I help you?" and I let loose with a torrent of explanation, backstory, and anecdote that went something like this:
"HisoIwantedtofindoutabouttanningI'veneverbeentanningbeforeandIamgonnabeabridesmaidinAprilfor mybrother'sweddinginCaliforniaandmylegsarereallyreallywhitebecauseit'swinterherebutalsobecausemylegsjust don'ttanatleastthebottomhalfofthemdoesn'tusuallyandifIlayoutinthesunformorethan20minutestheytend togetarashthatlookslikebloodblistersbutIwanttogiveitatrybecausemysister'ssuggestedittomelikefifty timessoIfigurednowwouldbeagoodtimetogiveitawhirlandalsomaybespraytanningalthoughIdon'tknow howthatwouldlookonmesoanywaywhatareyourprices?"
She was very nice. She didn't laugh at me when I showed her just how pale my legs were, and she was very patient in explaining their pricing options and whatnot. I didn't sign up that day - I wanted to think it over - but on Thursday this past week, I decided to bite the bullet and sign up for a month membership (which was pretty darn cheap, especially compared to their single session prices). I then had to purchase eye protectors and lotion, which threw me for a minute, but I managed to convince the girl that no, really, I was okay with the cheap stuff, I didn't need tanning lotion that cost as much as a purebred dog and was edible. I almost wanted to shout, "Do I LOOK like a girl who needs edible tanning lotion?!"
I hadn't actually planned to tan that day - I was going to make an appointment for the next day, and bring my swimsuit with me, because the idea of tanning nude kind of weirded me out, but after hooking me up with eye thingies and lotion, the girl was like, "I'll have you try bed 8, and we'll start you at five minutes, just to make sure you don't get a rash" (I think she was really worried that I'd break out in hives and sue the pants off the salon - which, when you consider all the release forms I signed, and the warning labels everywhere, would be rather difficult, but then, we do live in the 21st century, a.k.a., I'm suing McDonald's for making me fat century, so...).
So I ended up tanning au natural (scandalesque!), which wasn't as weird as I thought it would be. Also, tanning lotion smells so good! But I decided that if I was going to do this five minutes at a time, I'd be lucky to be a shade darker when I go home. So I made another appointment for today, and went for >gasp< 10 minutes! It took a bit of talking to convince the girl (not the same one from Thursday) to let me, since Thursday's girl had deemed me skin type 1, e.g. Very Pale and made note of my sun allergy. But I promised I wouldn't sue if I broke out in rash, explaining that it usually took between 20 and 30 minutes for my legs to react that way, and the rest of me was usually fine, and she was like, "Well, you signed the waiver, so whatever, go for it."
And again, it was fine. I was a little worried towards the end, because the bed started making some sort of sound like water boiling, and I was worried it'd explode, which would be an embarrassing way to die ("Woman, 28, dies in tanning bed accident! Corpse-like pallor suggests it was her first time!"), but my session ended about thirty seconds after the noise started, so I didn't worry about it. And I've been checking periodically all day, and while my legs are still pale (although maybe a smidge less than before? No? >sigggghhhh<), they have yet to break out. Yay for indoor tanning!
And in a couple of weeks, I will (hopefully) have enough of a base to try the next frontier - Mystic Spray Tan, dun dun DUN!!
I was paler than shaving cream on a snow man.
Cathie saw this, looked at me, and suggested I consider self tanning at least my legs before I show them off in any way shape or form. "Beyond butt white" "dead fish-belly white" and "corpse-like pallor" are all terms that aptly described the condition of my legs. And I could blame it on winter in Edmonton, like, when are my legs EVER going to see the sun, but honestly? My mid-summer "tan" is only half a shade darker than my legs in mid-winter, if that. Or has an orangey-yellow look I like to call "jaundice" resulting from experiments with self-tanning lotion. I concurred that something needed to be done, since I didn't want to have an entirely bottle-provided tan. So I decided the time had come to join the ranks of naturally pale-skinned people everywhere, and do something for which I used to mock others (including my own family members).
Yup. I went indoor tanning this week.
It was a little weird, walking in to the neighborhood tanning salon. The girl working there was really nice, and I feel kind of bad, because I walked in (nervously, like I was part of a shady drug deal, or something), she said "Hi, can I help you?" and I let loose with a torrent of explanation, backstory, and anecdote that went something like this:
"HisoIwantedtofindoutabouttanningI'veneverbeentanningbeforeandIamgonnabeabridesmaidinAprilfor mybrother'sweddinginCaliforniaandmylegsarereallyreallywhitebecauseit'swinterherebutalsobecausemylegsjust don'ttanatleastthebottomhalfofthemdoesn'tusuallyandifIlayoutinthesunformorethan20minutestheytend togetarashthatlookslikebloodblistersbutIwanttogiveitatrybecausemysister'ssuggestedittomelikefifty timessoIfigurednowwouldbeagoodtimetogiveitawhirlandalsomaybespraytanningalthoughIdon'tknow howthatwouldlookonmesoanywaywhatareyourprices?"
She was very nice. She didn't laugh at me when I showed her just how pale my legs were, and she was very patient in explaining their pricing options and whatnot. I didn't sign up that day - I wanted to think it over - but on Thursday this past week, I decided to bite the bullet and sign up for a month membership (which was pretty darn cheap, especially compared to their single session prices). I then had to purchase eye protectors and lotion, which threw me for a minute, but I managed to convince the girl that no, really, I was okay with the cheap stuff, I didn't need tanning lotion that cost as much as a purebred dog and was edible. I almost wanted to shout, "Do I LOOK like a girl who needs edible tanning lotion?!"
I hadn't actually planned to tan that day - I was going to make an appointment for the next day, and bring my swimsuit with me, because the idea of tanning nude kind of weirded me out, but after hooking me up with eye thingies and lotion, the girl was like, "I'll have you try bed 8, and we'll start you at five minutes, just to make sure you don't get a rash" (I think she was really worried that I'd break out in hives and sue the pants off the salon - which, when you consider all the release forms I signed, and the warning labels everywhere, would be rather difficult, but then, we do live in the 21st century, a.k.a., I'm suing McDonald's for making me fat century, so...).
So I ended up tanning au natural (scandalesque!), which wasn't as weird as I thought it would be. Also, tanning lotion smells so good! But I decided that if I was going to do this five minutes at a time, I'd be lucky to be a shade darker when I go home. So I made another appointment for today, and went for >gasp< 10 minutes! It took a bit of talking to convince the girl (not the same one from Thursday) to let me, since Thursday's girl had deemed me skin type 1, e.g. Very Pale and made note of my sun allergy. But I promised I wouldn't sue if I broke out in rash, explaining that it usually took between 20 and 30 minutes for my legs to react that way, and the rest of me was usually fine, and she was like, "Well, you signed the waiver, so whatever, go for it."
And again, it was fine. I was a little worried towards the end, because the bed started making some sort of sound like water boiling, and I was worried it'd explode, which would be an embarrassing way to die ("Woman, 28, dies in tanning bed accident! Corpse-like pallor suggests it was her first time!"), but my session ended about thirty seconds after the noise started, so I didn't worry about it. And I've been checking periodically all day, and while my legs are still pale (although maybe a smidge less than before? No? >sigggghhhh<), they have yet to break out. Yay for indoor tanning!
And in a couple of weeks, I will (hopefully) have enough of a base to try the next frontier - Mystic Spray Tan, dun dun DUN!!
Tuesday, 6 March 2012
Small Thanks
Today I have several things that I am grateful for. Really grateful, not sarcastic grateful. I feel obliged to share them with the world, and acknowledge that, yes, Heavenly Father really IS watching out for me.
First, the mirror issue. Yesterday I went to get my mirror fixed, because it's really hard to drive around without a passenger side mirror. I kept feeling like I was going to sideswipe someone because I couldn't see properly. So I went to Parts Source, which is a car parts store, but when I asked about just the glass (because the rest of the mirror was intact), I was referred to Crystal Glass. When I went in for my appointment at Crystal Glass, it turned out that I needed the backing for the mirror as well as the glass - but they didn't have the backing, so they referred me to Rodway Auto Wrecking, in the hopes that they would have an entire mirror unit for cheap. I'd looked up mirrors on-line the night before, and they were generally priced around $200. At Rodway, I got one for $50. Then, when I was trying to figure out where I was gonna get the thing installed, another customer down the counter told me where he gets his car work done, Jeff's Auto Electric, and told me to tell them he'd sent me. The guy from Rodway who sold me the mirror then looked up the address and phone number of Jeff's, so I'd be able to get there quickly. Yesterday I got there right before closing, but I took my car in today, and in less than an hour, and for $63 I had a new mirror on my car. I am grateful for all the guys in the various auto stores who were willing to help out a damsel in distress while being courteous and kind, instead of condescending.
I am especially grateful that my mirror only cost me $113 total to fix, because as I was waiting for my temple recommend interview tonight, one of the brethren waiting for his interview was telling about how his mirror got clipped off by an ambulance, and it cost him $500 to replace (the city reimbursed him, but still). So yeah, grateful that the mirror was fixed with minor cost to me. And quickly, too.
I am also thankful that my shoes were waiting for me today. I originally saw them yesterday, and I REALLY wanted them, but I decided to wait, to make sure they weren't an impulse buy. When I went back today to get them, because I knew life would not be complete without them, I realized that they were the LAST pair in my size in the store. I think I would have cried if they hadn't been there, and I am thankful they were, because I rarely find beautiful heels that I a.) love and b.) can actually walk in. Usually it's one or the other, but not both. So yay! My shoes were there for me!
I'm grateful that I happened to catch the bus at the same time as my adorable VT companion, W, because we had a great chat, and now I have someone to go see The Hunger Games with when it comes out.
I'm thankful for the little old man who runs the car wash I use, because normally he just feeds the money in the machine so people don't have to get out of their cars to do it (it's a little hard to reach) because today he scraped the two inches of accumulated snow yuck off my running boards, because the car wash can't get it all, which I usually just deal with. Today, my running boards were almost clean when I went in the car wash, and they were super clean when I came out. It's been a while since my car was this clean.
Finally, I'm thankful to Prof. T, my metacognition teacher, who found me a bunch of articles related to my topic for the final paper for his class. He did this for everyone in the class, which is going above and beyond what is required of him as a professor teaching a graduate course where we have all learned how to use the library search system to find relevant articles. Then he even burned them on a handy dandy cd. Actually, I kind of felt like I was in a spy movie, because he burned the information onto a disc, which he then left in a secure location (his mailbox in the grad lounge), then left me instructions on how to recover it, because he's leaving for Bangkok tomorrow. Yes, sometimes I hum my own theme music, what of it?
So, those are some things I'm legitimately thankful for today. Okay, I'm done now.
First, the mirror issue. Yesterday I went to get my mirror fixed, because it's really hard to drive around without a passenger side mirror. I kept feeling like I was going to sideswipe someone because I couldn't see properly. So I went to Parts Source, which is a car parts store, but when I asked about just the glass (because the rest of the mirror was intact), I was referred to Crystal Glass. When I went in for my appointment at Crystal Glass, it turned out that I needed the backing for the mirror as well as the glass - but they didn't have the backing, so they referred me to Rodway Auto Wrecking, in the hopes that they would have an entire mirror unit for cheap. I'd looked up mirrors on-line the night before, and they were generally priced around $200. At Rodway, I got one for $50. Then, when I was trying to figure out where I was gonna get the thing installed, another customer down the counter told me where he gets his car work done, Jeff's Auto Electric, and told me to tell them he'd sent me. The guy from Rodway who sold me the mirror then looked up the address and phone number of Jeff's, so I'd be able to get there quickly. Yesterday I got there right before closing, but I took my car in today, and in less than an hour, and for $63 I had a new mirror on my car. I am grateful for all the guys in the various auto stores who were willing to help out a damsel in distress while being courteous and kind, instead of condescending.
I am especially grateful that my mirror only cost me $113 total to fix, because as I was waiting for my temple recommend interview tonight, one of the brethren waiting for his interview was telling about how his mirror got clipped off by an ambulance, and it cost him $500 to replace (the city reimbursed him, but still). So yeah, grateful that the mirror was fixed with minor cost to me. And quickly, too.
I am also thankful that my shoes were waiting for me today. I originally saw them yesterday, and I REALLY wanted them, but I decided to wait, to make sure they weren't an impulse buy. When I went back today to get them, because I knew life would not be complete without them, I realized that they were the LAST pair in my size in the store. I think I would have cried if they hadn't been there, and I am thankful they were, because I rarely find beautiful heels that I a.) love and b.) can actually walk in. Usually it's one or the other, but not both. So yay! My shoes were there for me!
I'm grateful that I happened to catch the bus at the same time as my adorable VT companion, W, because we had a great chat, and now I have someone to go see The Hunger Games with when it comes out.
I'm thankful for the little old man who runs the car wash I use, because normally he just feeds the money in the machine so people don't have to get out of their cars to do it (it's a little hard to reach) because today he scraped the two inches of accumulated snow yuck off my running boards, because the car wash can't get it all, which I usually just deal with. Today, my running boards were almost clean when I went in the car wash, and they were super clean when I came out. It's been a while since my car was this clean.
Finally, I'm thankful to Prof. T, my metacognition teacher, who found me a bunch of articles related to my topic for the final paper for his class. He did this for everyone in the class, which is going above and beyond what is required of him as a professor teaching a graduate course where we have all learned how to use the library search system to find relevant articles. Then he even burned them on a handy dandy cd. Actually, I kind of felt like I was in a spy movie, because he burned the information onto a disc, which he then left in a secure location (his mailbox in the grad lounge), then left me instructions on how to recover it, because he's leaving for Bangkok tomorrow. Yes, sometimes I hum my own theme music, what of it?
So, those are some things I'm legitimately thankful for today. Okay, I'm done now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)