What the Hell is Wrong with Me?

Today on my way home from work, I started thinking about how, in the seventh grade, I didn't do this really big French project for class. We were given our instructions and the due date on the first day of class because it was a big project and we were to be working on it for a really long time.

I didn't tell my parents because I didn't want to be hounded about it all the time and I figured I'd pull something together in the last week, as was my custom.

Well anyway, I didn't do it. I don't know why I didn't do it; there wasn't any real reason. By the time I was a week away, I couldn't figure out how to ask my parents for help, seeing as I'd never told them about this big old thing. So I just sort of made a pile of papers that looked like it could be a French project and handed that in, sort of thinking that I could still pull it together and by the time my teacher noticed I could have something real...but still, I didn't do anything.

So, naturally, my teacher made me call my mom and tell her what I had done. I'll never forget how when she heard my voice in the middle of the day, she sounded so kind and worried. I think she must have thought I was sick or that something bad had happened. And then I had to tell her that I'd gone and done this idiot thing (and believe me, this was not the only time) and dissapoint her.

So I was thinking about this on my way home from work today and I just
started crying. I kept hearing her voice and feeling terrible and wishing I could apologize.

Of course, this was 18 years ago.

I used to have a similar memory of my dad when I was little. I had learned at school how to carefully peel a leaf from a clover and hold it together with another clover to make it look like a four leaf clover. I did it out in the yard and told my dad it was a four leaf clover. He was so happy for me. I felt terrible when I had to show him it was fake. Up until a few years ago, that could still make me cry.

Once for Christmas or something, I wrote letters to my parents, each with a list of things they'd done in my life that I wanted to say thank you for. Sometimes I wish I could send a similar apology letter, for fake four leaf clovers and French projects left undone. But then I think, maybe they don't need a list of reasons why I suck.

Further Fuel for my Hatred of Bob Dylan

It gives me great pleasure to learn that Bob Dylan is a PLAGIARIST.

100th Post: Dino-riffic!

So yay for blogging landmarks.

While in the DC area, we went to the outlet malls in Leesburg, VA, where I procured dinosaur cookie cutters at Williams Sonoma. Usually there is a 10 dollar charge just for breathing in Williams Sonoma, but on this day air was free and these most excellent cookie cutters were 4 dollars.

Here are the fruits of our labor: (expert cookie rolling by mom, decoration by Thomas, Meg and my cousin Mina)

Oh, yeah. We also saw these real, actual dinosaurs:






But whatev.

All About Me

On my trip home this weekend, my mom gave me a box of papers from my old bedroom to take home. I was really excited to look in there and see what I might find, so pretty much the second we got home I tore into it. There were notes and letters that I remembered vividly from childhood--one I had even mentioned this weekend--a letter written on crayola stationary by my childhood best friend, informing me that the duck egg that we found and had been saving in her back yard broke when she sat on it and made a terrible smell and that she was in big trouble about it. Also, letters from camp friends, including some from Nikki, who I was lucky enough to get back in touch with this year...old pictures, and a ton of elementary school work. My favorite by far was this:


a book I made in the 2nd grade. It was many pages long, but I chose these to show you.



This is totally hilarious to me. My favorite subjects, it seems, were PE, art and math. PE, art and math? Is this me we're talking about? I spent the better part of the last 10 years figuring out how never to perform PE or math again. I also listed reading and music as my two least favorite subjects. Anyone who knows me should know why that is absurd. I do like, though, that I described schoolwork as "sinchy," as in, it's a cinch!

Here is a list of my favorite things circa 1984:


A side by side comparison, if you will:

Favorites 1984

1. number: 8
2. color: pink
3. subject: math
4. animal: dog
5. flower: rose
6. song: Beat It
7. tv show: WKRP in Cinncinati (sp?)
8. time of day: 3:00 noon (when the hell is 3:00 noon?)
9. day of the week: Friday
10. month: June
11. game: Clue
12. place to visit: New Jersey
13. sport: fishing
14. friends: Larissa, Ann, Sneha, Laura
15. holiday: Christmas
16. section of newspaper: comics
17. movie: Gremlins
18. car: Corvette
19. restaurant: Roy Rogers
20. recording group: beetles (sic)
21. actor/actress: Bill Cosbee (sic)
22. athlete: Mary Luo Reton (sic)
23. teacher: Mrs. Varesco
24. comic strip character: Ziggy
25. thing to wear: Mical Jakson seat sheart (Michael Jackson sweat shirt)

Favorites 2006

1. number: 8
2. color: red
3. school subject: English
4. animal: dog
5. flower: gerbera daisy
6. song: U2 With or Without You
7. tv show: Freaks and Geeks
8. time of day: I'll stick with 3:00--for me, that's still when school gets out.
9. day of the week: Friday
10. month: June
11. game: Taboo
12. place to visit: where ever Kasey is
13. sport: fishing
14. friends: (still friends with Larissa and Ann) Kasey, Michelle, Jennifer, Andrea
15. holiday: Christmas
16. section of the newspaper: classifieds?
17. movie: depends. film? Magnolia. movie? Dirty Dancing or the Breakfast Club
18. car: classic Beetle
19. restaurant: Circa
20. recording group: The Beatles
21. actor/actress: Ed Norton/Laura Linney
22. athlete: Keri Strugg
23. teacher: too many to list.
24. comic strip character: ?
25. thing to wear: platform flip flops

I'm actually amazed to see that I am pretty much exactly the same person in 2006 as I was in 1984.

Not to Brag

but gas station attendants totally love me.

Take today, for instance. Thomas and I went in to a small mom-and-pop style gas station/convenience store halfway between work and home. We wanted to exchange our propane tank.

Gas station attendant: What does your shirt mean?

(My shirt--gift from bff Kasey--says, "Note to self: I'm rad").

Me: I'm rad? It means I'm cool.

Gas station attendant, apropos of nothing, to Thomas: You're lucky man. You're with the cutest girl in town.


Now, before I get too full of myself, this same man accidentally charged me for 300 dollars worth of gas a few months ago. There's no way to pay at the pump there, so I went in to charge $15 dollars to my debit card before pumping. The man ran my card and accidentally typed in $150 dollars. He told me of his mistake and asked if I would like the change in cash. I about fainted and told him I didn't have $150 in my account, so he told me he would quick reverse the charges.

And accidentally charged me $150 again.

It was a huge ordeal; the bank wouldn't forgive the overages and told me I'd have to ask him to pay them...blah, blah, blah; the upshot is, he probably still feels like he has to be nice to me. But it was still nice.

However, it put me in the mind of a few years ago. I wasn't, shall we say, having the best luck with men and this was probably due to the fact that I was drinking my fair share of beer and theirs too. But in any case, near my house there was a Shell station manned by a lovely, if somewhat mouse faced, man named Ralph who took a shine to my drunk ass self. On the day he finally got up the nerve to ask me out (which he did in a very sweet and bumbling way), he was beat to the punch by a homeless guy outside of Lula's. Yep, that's right. I was asked out by a homeless man and a gas station attendant in the same day.

People love me, I'm telling you.

Homeward Bound

Just got home from work...if this isn't the nicest weather we've had all year, I don't know what. I'm feeling that pleasant sense of satisfaction that comes from being very slightly too busy---not a panicked sense of schedule, but of order: first I go here, then here, then here. Never have to think too hard--just get it done.

Part of what's making me busy is that Thomas and I are going home this week--it will be Thomas's first time in MD since we got married. My parents have put an addition on the house since then! I'm looking forward to getting to spend some time with them. Lately all our visits have been 2 days long. Rush in, peform desired activities, rush out. I am very excited about the possibility of visiting the Washington zoo. I love zoos. If I had been more...I don't know, scientific?...I would have wanted to be an exotic animal vet. Sometimes at school I feel like an exotic animal vet.

Still feeling happy with my job decision, though.

Alarmed and Freaked out about Blogger Beta

Ok, so I'm just minding my business, checking out Kim's blog.

What the hell is going on?????

I don't want to switch to Beta! Why can't I comment?????

When I went to dashboard, there was a little box that advertised beta. I clicked on it and it said I would need a google account, so I made one. Now the google account seems to override my login to my blogger account, causing me to freakishly comment as meaghanwgilbert, which is so not me, even if it is, technically, me. I do not like this. Plus, I am ridiculously committed to my archives and if anything were to go wrong...well, I just don't know if I could go on.

Who besides Kim has switched? Please calm my fears.

Can Pee For

Dude, someone got to this blog by searching google for "can pee for."

I think I'm really, really proud about that.

Amusingly, I am one of the very few people I know who "can pee for" as I partake in no illegal activities. I was once recruited in that capacity (though it is probably illegal to admit such) and got someone a much higher paying job than I myself currently have.

Sugar Free Chocolate is the Devil

This is true. It may be that I just haven't tasted real chocolate in so long that I can't remember what it actually tastes like, but this Russell Stover stuff tastes exactly right to me. So naturally, I want to consume it in vast quantities, but it makes me seriously ill. I'm struggling right now to eat only one serving of M and M's...but dude. What if I just ate the whole package, and got sick all at once?
Sometimes I think these weird foods will cause a whole new kind of eating disorder.

It's Friday, the sun is out, and I was treated to the unspeakably cute sight of one of my dogs waiting impatiently on the porch for the other one to finish his meal. She won't go downstairs unless he comes too. I'm home from work...don't have to grade til Sunday...there's some beer in my future and I'm hoping my sister will let me come over and raid her library. Got a small raise. Today, everything seems in its right place.

Hoo-rah!

Random Stuff

So, other than a previously mentioned drinking binge--which, in its highlight, included a fine meeting with all my favorite bloggers and, in its lowlight, involved me drinking keg bud lite--nothing much is going on.

Please note that I linked to Fanboy--you should all be reading Thomas's newsletter which is high-larious, truly, even though I am is wife and I have to say that. Also, each week includes Bryan Sandala's head in various strange photoshops, so you really must see it.

Gerber daisies, freshly planted: still alive. (miracle).
Beer in fridge: none.
Plants planted with small children in classroom setting: 6.

Just finished: Life of Pi, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, The Time Traveller's Wife. Faith in Fiction: restored.

Beer Consumption at All Time High

This is how the Gilbert family prepares for hurricanes. I also have an amusing picture of Thomas holding up batteries and beef jerky. Because apparently everything you need for a hurricane begins with the letter B. (Now I am thinking of the Sesame Street song "Letter B" sung to the tune of "Let it Be." Get that out of your head, I dare you.)

However, none of our B named supplies were necessary during fauxicane Ernesto, and so I feel it is my duty to begin ridding our fridge of these extraneous items.



Needless to say, I'm not feeling so well this morning.