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Oh boy(s)

I survived the weekend. Kelsey, my brother and 6 other guys joined me at the fam's cabin for what somehow turned into a boys weekend (even though I was hosting). The weather did not cooperate so we were cooped up inside almost the whole weekend and don't get me wrong, I love all those guys but man do they start to smell after a while! One of the most enjoyable moments was the glorious that Kels and I snuck in while the boys played games on the porch Saturday afternoon. We burrowed up in the master bedroom, pulled the shades, turned on the fan to drown out the noise, and didn't move for at least two hours. Of course, we were woken up by stinky boys jumping on us but after they left us alone to get up Kelsey covered her head with the blankets and said, "I wish I could just sleep forever." "Um, Kels, I think that is what we call suicide." Not gonna lie, death by napping would not be a bad way to go. We, however, decided not to take that path and left our cave to carpe diem the rest of our trip.
A few things I am taking away from the trip
-a bag full of clothes that smell so bad just from being in the same space as the guys I might have to burn them.
-enough leftover carrots to keep my backyard rabbits alive through the winter
-that it would be really great if the guy I marry someday does NOT snore.


Always stop for lemonade

So, Miss. Sprynczynatyk's status on gchat today was "Always stop at lemonade stands." Frankly, I couldn't agree more. It is just something you do. Always. Like helping little old ladies cross the street. I have found that there aren't many opportunities to do that these days, at least not stateside, as we seem to tuck all of our little old ones away in nursing homes where they can't bother us (if you couldn't pick up on my sentiments on the subject, I am more of a fan of the European way of keeping the older generations in the home with the family. note, I do believe there are exceptions when it is best for everyone to put someone in a nursing home but...yeah. anyway...) In Spain I was always giving an arm to a wrinkled woman with egonomic black shoes to match her black dress and black lace mantilla. Getting back to the original thought, one should alway stop at lemonade stands even if it means circling the block to come back and grab a parking spot. My mom agrees with this philosophy, except she never drinks the lemonade. She drives a block or two away to get out of sight and then dumps it. Why? The thought of the grubby chubby hands that made it is just too much for her to handle. Yes, slightly OCD but I go along with it to make her feel better. Secretly though, when she isn't around, I drink the lemonade. Shh...don't tell?


Wednesday Wine

Sometimes, drinking wine on a Wednesday is not a stellar idea. This is what I thought to myself as I stood in front of the elevator, waiting for it to arrive and take me to work. What prompted this thought? The fact that I felt like I was late, looked at my watch and it said 2:25. Hey, even if I didn't remember to wind it at least I remembered to put it on. I think I'm going to stick with my sister's favorite excuse: I was overserved. Only problem is that I was the one pouring. Crap.

Mornings like this are the reason Taco Bell should be open for breakfast.


Write Helen Johnson

Reading the can of Oust air freshener in the locker room the other day I noticed something strange. At least it seemed strange to me. On the back of the bottle it says, "Questions? Comments? Call 1-800-558-5252 or write Helen Johnson. 2006. S.C. Johnson and Sons, Inc. Racine, WI."
Who is Helen Johnson? Is she S.C. Johnson's husband and the mother of the "and Sons"? And maybe I'm confused but usually you can't just address a letter with a name and the city in order for it to get delivered properly. Maybe there isn't anything in Racine except for the S.C. Johnson and Sons company. Perhaps I should write just to find out. I would hope to get back a pretty white card with violets on the front and inside, the spidery handwriting of little, old Helen Johnson responding to my letter from the porch of her white clapboard farmhouse. Drinking lemonade. She would need to be drinking lemonade while she wrote me back, otherwise it just wouldn't feel authentic.


Rocky Moves

Today was the first day that the heat was a bit much during my lunchtime walk/jog. My office walking buddy was here for the second day in a row after being out of commission with a headache for 1/2 of the week. She was quite upset on Wednesday when I told her that not only had I gone walking without her, I had tackled The Stairs. On Mississippi Blvd, past the cancer center but before walking under the bridge there is a set of stairs up into campus. The Stairs are daunting, to say the least. Standing at the bottom of them we looked at each other, debating the pros of tackling them (sense of accomplishment, less general rolypoly-ness) versus the pros of cruising on by (keeping our dignity in front of many med students, less overall sweatiness). I gave her the head nod--and so tackle them we did. On our victorious way back down, one of us (I'm not sure who was the idiot here) said, "That wasn't so bad. Maybe we should do them again." This time, both of us head nodded. Halfway back up between pants I sputtered, "How many stairs do you think there are? It seems like...a lot." "No, not alot," she gasped back confidently. "I'd say more like millions."
At the top we definitely high fived. Walking back down I decided she was right. Much closer to millions.


60 days and counting

Recently I sat down with Boss for my 60-day review. I rocked it. Actually, I rocked the first 60 days which is why the review went so well. He said I am fearless, which is a way no one has ever described me before. When I told Mom she thought it was super cool, but at first not because it was a compliment to be called fearless. No, she thought it was cool because there used to be a pheasant that lived in our backyard that my sister fed with corn and named Fearless. Awesome. Thanks for that, Mom.

Anyway, thats not the exciting part. Here is the exciting part. On my way downstairs to meet Boss at the D'Amico Cafe for my review, I stopped in the 5th floor bathroom so I wouldn't have to go halfway through the review, to make sure there i didn't have anything in my teeth and that my hair wasn't completely ruined by the humidity. Turning on the faucet I reached for the soap dispenser pump, pressed down, and squirted soap into my hand. I froze and stared at the pink circle of soap spreading into a puddle in my palm. "No freakin way," I thought, "No freakin way." See, since the day I started, there had not been soap in the far right dispenser at the sink closest to the door. My whole first week I kept trying to use it. By the end of my first month I was shocked no one had refilled it. At my last job, things like that got taken care of over night, like magic. (Actually it wasn't magic, the cleaning staff had a checklist on the back of the door and someone had to sign it after every shift to verify everything had been done, including refilling the soap). It got to be habit that I would always try that empty dispenser, just to see if someone had filled it. By the time my 60-day rolled around I had all but given up and so when the moment came that the dispenser actually worked I stared so long I was almost late for my review.

I think its a sign. Of what? I do not know. But it is definitely a sign.


Stranger things have happened...

...but these are still pretty strange. Here is a round up/count down of some of the things I saw this weekend that made me go, "Hmmm..."

5) Multi-colored goldfish crackers swimming in a kiddie pool. (Ok they weren't so much swimming as they were floating but still).
4) Two teenage-ish boys playing a full drumset under a railroad bridge wearing Hawaiian shorts, too-big blazers, and sunglasses. A cop watched from down the street, leaning against the car and tapping her foot.
3) At the Stone Arch Art Festival there were fairy houses for sale, as well as toad huts. Fairy houses, for those of you who aren't familiar with them, are like little bird houses with tiny hole entrances, bright ceramic roofs, and neon flowers painted all over the sides. Toad huts, on the other hand, are squat, rounded mound looking structures that sit on the ground, have several entrances, and slightly resemble a house fit for a Hobbit (only much smaller).
2) A hefty shirtless man, about 65 years old, wandering the river banks wearing a bright red plastic lei and a kilt.
1) These two obits were listed side by side in a South Dakota newspaper (one of my co-workers has a cabin there and pointed this out to me):
SISSETON — Evelyn G. Simon, 100, Sisseton, died Tuesday, June 10, 2008, in a care center at Browns Valley, Minn. She is survived by her only son, Archie, and...
SISSETON — Archie Eugene Simon, 80, Sisseton, died Thursday, June 12, 2008, after multiple long battles with various illnesses. He was the only son born Dec. 24, 1927, to Arthur and Evelyn G. Simon. in Grant Township.



I have a friend.
His name is Dan.
He is in a band.
We used to salsa together.
In Spain.
On random stages in the park.

And we listened to music.
While drinking beer that tasted like a brick wall.
On the ground.
In my plaza surrounded by roses.
With Chey at night.
It was great.

Recently the social monster that is facebook has brought us back into closer contact and I found myself with a dilemma...
Talking to Dan on a regular basis made me miss him more, but I so enjoy him that I didn't want to stop talking to him.
I decided it was worth the pain to keep in touch (which he thanked me for) and we have been chatting a few times a week. One thing I HEART about Dan is that he has an awesome knowledge base of music, and all sorts of music at that. He is a very talented musician himself but he also has a knack for knowing what music a person might enjoy or even need. When living in Madrid we often loaded up our respective flash drives, met at the fountain of a plaza, and traded mixes filled with great songs. Everything from CCR to Ben Harper to remixes he did himself.
Now that he home in Philly and I am, well, not, it makes trading music a bit harder. We have still managed...I him told about the new Jason Mraz album (which he now loves), and he just sent me Ryan Adams, "Easy Tiger" (which I now love). I suppose we'll have to settle for zipped files and facebook chat instead of hanging out in the plaza with my ipod drinking Mahou with Chey.


Congrats, Kourtni!

So proud of Kala's baby sister...(and there is a nice little cameo by Miss Mykala Lind herself, too).

Kourtni has made it to the top 20 on "So You Think You Can Dance" and I can't wait to see how far she gets! I have a good feeling about this, kids...goooood feeling.
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