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.

Off Work Tomorrow!

Whoot!

1st, let me say, Kim Shable, do not let Ernesto stop you!! This is a big fat pile of nothing that has been exaggerated (and you lived here, so you know they ALWAYS do). This morning at 6 am, as it drizzled, WWAY news channel 3 had a reporter standing on the beach in a raincoat saying, "Well, Jim, it's raining significantly harder than it was a few minutes ago." Yeah, that's because it wasn't raining at all a few minutes ago. Yes, it is raining right now, as I'm sure it will continue to do until tomorrow, but seriously, we've had worse flash floods this summer.

2nd, I hope all this does not enrage Ernesto and cause him to be my first real hurricane. Ernesto, listen up. You are big and bad. I am not messing with you.

3rd, let me say that for the first time EVER! I am out of work tomorrow for weather related causes. We accidentally sheduled 2 more school days than we needed this year, so my boss said to just take it and forget about it. I am so excited! Yet slightly worried about being trapped in Lula's incase the above message did not appease Ernesto.

Does anyone know a song about Ernesto? Cause I want to sing one. Maybe I can just substitute Ernesto for Fernando.

Happy First Day of School

Tra-la-la, it's the first day of school. Or, I should say, the first day of school is over. Hence, the singing. Nothing is ever as bad as the first day back...the chaos, the parents milling around, the inability of anyone under the age of 7 to sit in his or her seat, the bathroom emergencies, the tears, the vomit...we had it all today. But it is over and tomorrow begins the real school year.

Saw Barry Corbin again today but refrained from embarrassing myself. Soon, I feel like, we'll be hanging out.

Geeky Boy Radio Stations

So has anyone else noticed that new radio station called "Will"? I think it's 98.7. The premise is that it's run by this guy named Will who has a million CDs and doesn't care about formatting--i.e. there's music from all decades, all kinds.

This would be ok, but the whole station in actuality seems like a study in mediocrity. It's not quite any kind of radio station and the things they play always seem like 2nd rate songs that you're not trying to hear every day. They'd be good every once in a while. Like GNI's 80's weekend--why must we hear the same 60 songs from the 80's! There were, in fact, other songs. And Will plays those other songs...except for that's all he plays.

Anyway, while we were away in Raleigh, we heard 98.7 there. It's called "Simon." I'm not sure what Simon's excuse for being is, like maybe he's an old man with a hoarding problem who has too many cds or something, but basically it was the same. This made me wonder--is this, like, sweeping the nation? Does every city now have a radio station with no djs and no formatting and a fake posterboy with an emo name?

Is Quentin out there? or Spencer? Nigel?

Hey, right now my counter is at 2222. And it's friday. :)

Quit yo...etc

Good Lord, This Rain

Will it never end? I'm happy not to have to water the miles of garden I decided to plant in the spring when it was bearable out, but still.

In happy news for today, I HAVE A JACUZZI! Yes, it's true. I am now so spoiled by technology that it is a wonder I even have to feed myself.
On Sunday, when we returned from GSO, it was a humid jungle inside the house. Wha-huh? We said. How can this be, as Thomas keeps the house sub-zero no matter the weather outside. My sister was taking care of the dogs (Thank you!) so we thought maybe she had turned the AC off to conserve. But no, it was just not working.

We called the landlord, who offered various solutions by phone. Did you turn it off and on again? yes. Did you check the fuse box? yes, but it is full of pre-war inexplicable fuses. But they seem ok. None are brown or melted. Is it frozen over? no. Finally he came out. We checked all those things again. Status: the same. My landlord somehow managed to get an AC guy to the house at 9 on Sunday night, because he is a genius in all things. The AC guy found a hidden fuse box under the house that none of us, including the landlord, knew was there. The breaker marked AC was thrown.

Hey, he said. There are two more thrown. One for the kitchen and one marked "Jacuzzi." We threw them all back. Suddenly, I have AC, outlets in the kitchen and a working Jacuzzi tub. Yeeee haw. I took a bath in it yesterday and it was delish.

In further good news, school was very good today. I am happy to say that the school has hired a second elementary school teacher and we seem to be getting along well and they painted my room this year in lovely yellows and blues. It felt great to get home at 3:30 today.

Quit yo jibba jabba!

Defining Moments

So this weekend, Thomas and I went home to Greensboro. Since 1995, from the first hour that I set foot on the Guilford College campus, I've considered Greensboro my home. I was the first person I knew to begin to refer to her dorm as home; my calendars showing breaks showed entries like, "home to MD" and then, "home to NC". I've always considered myself not a transplant to North Carolina, but someone who was just born in the wrong place. I am North Carolinian. But more than that, I've always thought of myself as a native of Greensboro.

When I first moved to Wilmington, I was so crushingly homesick that I didn't think I'd make it a year. I seriously considered dropping out of school to return home; in fact, the only reason I ever made it here in the first place was that UNCG didn't take me. Everything that seemed to make me who I considered myself to be was there, as well as everyone I loved. It didn't help that my marriage was falling apart and that our best and happiest times were there. My desire to return was metaphorical as well as literal. I remember my first husband asking me angrily one night why I insisted on treating Greensboro like Xanadu. But to me, Greensboro was Xanadu. I felt very much in control of my world there. I couldn't drive yet, but I could walk to the grocery store, school, a movie theater, my favorite bar. I worked and lived among like-minded, liberal Quakers. I belonged.

Going home this weekend, I was finally forced to admit that I am more at home in Wilmington than I ever was in Greensboro. Partly that's because I can drive now and so have a kind of interior map of Wilmington that I never had of Greensboro. But partly it's being older; that more of the choices I've made here have made an ultimate difference to my life; that my job and my friends and my husband are here; that Wilmington is smaller and more manageable than the insane sprawl of Greensboro; and that, although I refused to see it for the longest time, this really is a beautiful town.

I felt sad driving out of Greensboro yesterday. I thought, that might be the last time I ever go home.

But, I did eat in the best restaurant in the whole world. REARN THAI! Thomas and I have been known to drive 150 miles out of our way to eat in this restaurant. It's nothing fancy, just a hole in the wall Thai restaurant with the best damn Thai food ever. So much better than our fancy "gourmet" Indochine or Rim Wang--this is real stuff, made by real Thai people, meant to be eaten, day in day out, not just for special occasions when you've saved up enough damn money. When I was in school, for 3.75 at lunch you got a drink, a spring roll and an entree. So, naturally, I ate there almost every day.

It's one of the few things I can always find my way to in Greensboro, even if I don't know the names of the stupid roads. Seeing this sign, I was so excited. But then we pulled up and saw this:

I seriously thought I would perish. Rearn Thai, closed? It was bad enough when I found out that my favorite GSO bar, Dolley's, had closed. But not Rearn. It couldn't be. But then I read the sign more closely. It advised me to turn around. And I saw this:


Rearn! In a nice new home! It was very exciting. I actually left a love note to Rearn on the back of our check, stating that this would always be my favorite restaurant, no matter where I lived and Congratulations on the beautiful new building, etc. Thomas might have been a little embarrassed of me, but I was happy. I made him swear that no matter where I am when I am dying, I want Rearn Thai food flown in. We ordered 2 appetizers and 3 entrees and I nearly died of happiness, though I did eat rice which is shameful and wrong.

Rearn is one of the four things in the world that I would happily advertise for. The others are Mr. Clean Magic Erasers, The Swiffer Vaccuum and my vet, Brad Kerr.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about things like this: who I would be publicly associated with. It's tied in to my thinking about myspace, about making lists of things that we think define us in some way, about our use of those names of books, bands, people, and products that we represent ourselves with. One of the things I'm interested in is how quickly people who know us could figure out who was meant by a list. For instance, most people list The Beatles on their myspace page. How many words do I have to add before you know unequivocally that it's me we're talking about?

The Beatles
Stephen King
Eminem

I mean, these are very popular things, but I think we think of ourselves as unique combinations of them.

Twin Peaks
80's music
Sue Miller

Oh, P.S., while I'm thinking about it, I saw the coolest thing in Jane Magazine (you can add Jane to my list above) about a website that is selling buttons, not with band names, but with author names!! You could bust out your old jean jacket and cover it with Donna Tartt and Michael Chabon buttons. I'm googling for the website right now but not finding anything. I'll have to go back and look in the magazine.

edited to say: Found it! it's pianoandscene.com

Anyway. My list would have to include Rearn Thai, Donna Tartt, Holistic Veterinary Medicine, Platform flip flops, the word "whatev", dogs of all sorts, etc.

Thomas and I were thinking about phrases that are particular to some people, like my "whatev" and his "are you kidding me?" We have this Mr. T keychain with 6 of his famous phrases:



including: "I pity the Fool" (of course) and "Quit yo jibber jabba!" which is my particular favorite. We imagined making these for our friends and recording their most quintessential phrases.

Mine would have to be:
Crap in a bowl!
How exciting!
Fucksie Ducksie.
Whatev.
Whhhaaaatttttt? (This should be very high pitched and drawn out).
and Dude.

Sorry for the insane length of this post. It's been a while.

Dead Raccoon Road

So here's something you should know about me: I didn't learn to drive until I was 23. I got my license at 19 but never actually drove a car until I was 21 and not with any kind of regularity until I was 23. I don't think I took another human being in my car until I was 24. Driving has always been an issue for me.

When most people are 15, their parents begin to take them out in the family car to learn to drive. Nothing fancy, just some back roads, some parking lots, what have you. That way when the child is 15 and a half and enters drivers ed, he or she knows which one is the gas and which one is the break, and some rudimentary steering techniques, so as not to endanger the instructors or anyone else outside the immediate family. My parents did not do this. The first time I sat in the driver's seat of a car was with a scary old italian man with hairy knuckles who had never encountered a 15 year old who had no idea how to drive. Needless to say, it did not go well and I did not attempt Drivers Ed again until I was 19 and prepared to actually get a license.

My parents attribute my unwillingness to drive as a direct result of having learned to drive the riding lawn mower at an early age. I grew up on almost two acres of flat, grass covered land that had to be mowed frequently, and so my dad taught me to ride the lawnmower, probably when I was 11 or 12. I would get that lawnmower going in 5th gear and ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM. Except that several times, even with the absolute visibility, I hit a tree or the fence. Hard. And they are probably right. It did scare me a bit to think that I could do that in a car. Trees don't sue. At least, not yet.

But all this not driving affected my sense of direction and caused me to never have any idea how to get anywhere. I don't even know the real names of roads. I think of them as that one by Ruby Tuesday or, in a famous incident: Dead Raccoon Road. In Greensboro, where I went to school, there was a road that is much like our New Center Drive, not in that it is clogged with huge discount stores, but that it connected College and Market, also the two main roads of Greensboro. Or at least I think that's true. But anyway, one night I saw a man by the side of the road, cradling a raccoon in his arms and giving it what totally looked like CPR. Subsequently, I have no recollection of what the actual name of this road is, which makes it difficult when we go home to visit.

As we are doing this weekend. Dead Raccoon Road, here I come.

Hrm

well, I quit the job today. I feel all weird and shaky and nervous inside, like you do when you know you're about to be caught doing something bad. I think part of the weirdness is that I'm having trouble getting in touch with my school, which is making me worried that I've been fired in absentia and am now jobless. Will try to just be ok and enjoy the weekend and my whopping two days off this summer.

There is a pain in my right eye, but I'm hoping that's just stress. Have broken the news of my quitting to my dad and received obligatory lecture about health insurance, but all in all, I think it went better than I expected. I just hope he's still proud of me.

I want to be funny and write funny things. I know I had a whole list saved up from when I was blog-less, but now of course I can't think of anything. I'm tired of whining on my blog. When does life get easier? Does anyone know?

Home at Last/Technical Difficulties

Oh, how I missed the blog. I kept feeling really afraid that Pen would move me into the "People Who Should Blog More" catagory.

But, happily, for myriad reasons, I'm coming home to roost. I've decided to go back to teaching. I know, I know. In a month, I'll remember how incredibly stupid that is. But right now I am just so damn unhappy. (Daisy--how are you? We forgot to check in). And I've decided that if I'm going to spend more time at work than I do at home with Thomas and the dogs, it sure as hell better be something I like doing. So I'll be returning home again daily at 3, which sounds incredible. And the plan (though I've never been so good at sticking to them) is to pursue potential ministerial interests in that extra time.

Meanwhile, I am overjoyed at 1. having my blog's password again. 2. Having DSL. 3. Being able to receive phonecalls while online. 4. Knowing I've only got 3 days left in that hellhole. 5. Knowing who is on the phone before I answer it, thereby deflecting any "why on earth are you quitting?" phone calls.

The other night, Thomas and I were watching TV and flipping through our 3 channels (it will be at least 3 more years before I can be talked into cable or a cell phone) when we noticed that FOX had frozen in the midst of an Altel commercial. We sat there and watched frozen FOX for 17 minutes, debating how long this had been going on and placing bets on how long it would continue. Somehow, we had more fun watching this error than watching actual TV. I called my mom and made her turn on FOX to see if it was a local or national problem, but, just like smoking a cigarette while waiting for your food to come, it immediately caused the TV to unfreeze.

Oh! in further exciting TV news, I saw Barry Corbin at Charley Brownz tonight. I know he's there, like, every night, but before I didn't know who he was. This year I inhaled the first three seasons of Northern Exposure, so I was excited about it and I was really hoping to see him again. Unfortunatly, I walked into the bar and loudly said to Thomas, "Where's Maurice?!" Thomas pointed out that he was um, right there. I can only hope he thought I said, "Where's the beef!?"

Damn Lack of Pictures

Hey all. Does anyone have any idea why my new DSL doesn't allow me to see pictures on this here lovely internet? Pen suggested my firewall being too high...it was already on medium so I set it to low. Google suggested that I change my encoding for internet explorer...did that....still nothing. I can't live without my pictures!!

In other technology news, I finally got caller ID. This is a service I think is totally frivolous and I would never voluntarily sign up for it, but it was part of my "bundle" from BellSouth that helped me achieve cheap DSL, so what can you do. I happened to have a phone with a Caller ID display on it, so I plugged it. Let me just tell you how much I LOVE caller ID. It makes me feel very spoiled and well taken care of to have something so unnecessary. I want to thank the phone and pet it and give it a treat.

That's all for this moment.