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Baby, It's Cold Outside

It has happened. For the first time since September, I have woken up as something other than a shivering mass under a pile of blankets. Space heaters are magical things. This tiny 25-year-old box is able to predict when the exact right time it right to begin showering me with warm air. I'll take the risk of having it burn the house down any day. (Besides, it's Todd's house.) Waking up warm puts a new outlook on one's life. Coffee can be enjoyed as a delicious beverage instead of as something to thaw out your insides. I like it.

Tonight I am going on a roadtrip to rescue my wallet from the Greensboro Chevron at Exit 174. Here is the story:

You see, we all went on a camping trip Thursday night at Torreya State Park. (I highly recommend it. Ranger Dennis is super great.) In Greensboro there is a Chevron station where me, Lori, James and Jenna can take our Express Lane cups and get 50 cent refills. (I also highly recommend this. 50 cent refills are the best thing since sliced bread.) So we stopped in and I brought my wallet to pay for my refill, only, the Greensboro Chevron sucks and the drink machine was out. A very incompetant lady told me, "Oh. Yeah. We were gonna fix that." Man, that lady deserves a raise. So, rather disgruntled, James, Lori, Jenna and I left the Chevron.

Along with my wallet.

My beautiful X-men wallet that Sarah Wirgau gave me was left on the edge of the drink machine.

So when we got to Tallahassee and stopped at my Chevron to get refills, my stomach dropped and I realized that I had left it on the counter. I called the Greensboro Chevron and was told by the same incompetant lady that my wallet had been stolen. She had looked for it and it was gone. I left her my number and she took it rather reluctantly, assuring me that the wallet was gone. So, sadly, I began calling to cancel my debit and credit cards and bemoaned the loss of my Leon Lion discount card that Kenny Nikkens sold me. It got me free drinks at One Stir Fry.

About two hours later, at about the time I was searching to find the Old Navy number to cancel that card, the lady called and said, "We found your wallet. It was where you said; I just didn't see it." Genius, that one.

Sunday morning I had to drive to Camp Charis to play Christmas carols. I hopped in my car and my gas was pretty low, so I thought to myself, "I'll stop and get gas in Georgia. (The state, not the country. ;0) It is cheaper there. So when I got to cheaper gas I pulled my car in and I realized something. I had no wallet. Even if I had had my wallet, I had cancelled all my cards. No credit cards. No cash. All of these things = no gas. I didn't have time to drive back home so I marched back into the desert, eyeing the oasis I had just left jealously. I prayed that I would make it to Pelham. 30 more miles.

I rolled into Pelham with my gas light dinging mercilessly, but I did make it. Julie Queen was my savior and followed me to a gas station nearby, otherwise I would probably still be walking towards Havana right now. Thanks, Shirley!

A Quite Convenient Book, Actually

At the risk of Todd making fun of me, I'd like to inform everyone that
Glenn Beck will be at Books a Million tonight (by the Albertson's on Thomasville Road) at 6 o'clock. If you have no idea who I am talking about, you can still come and just hang out with me. You really should watch the news occasionally, though.

It is clear that this mom plays favorites.

Perhaps Alexander's Day Would Have Been Better Had He Simply Put in His Contacts.

Today is a no contacts day. If you find me at school with my glasses on, just stay away. You see, I really like my contacts. I hate staring at rims all day and having my vision skewed because I've smeared the glass in front of my face with my fingers. Sometimes I even smack my glasses on door frames because I only give the part of my face that's chemically connected to my body doorway clearance. It hurts your nose really bad when your frames smash up against the side of them. Besides the fact that I look silly in them, the prescription is terribly old and everything is still really blurry when I wear them. It's like watching ESPN in HD and then going back to just plain old channel 8. And since I don't have HD, I need all the help that I can get. The point is, I avoid wearing my glasses at all costs. So naturally, if I show up to work wearing my glasses, something must be wrong. Either I've dropped a contact down the sink and haven't been able to scrounge up enough change for new ones, or it's one of those mornings that I've stayed up far too late, my alarm awakens me from a brief coma and I'm saddened to find that my eyes are almost completely glued shut. This is confirmed when I jump down from my bunk bed and run into a wall because I didn't notice it was there. It is at these times that I stumble into my bathroom, feel around for the contact case and realize that there is no way I'm going to be able to get my extra eyeballs in. I've already given up on the day before it starts. A no contact day says three things. 1) The world around me is just not worth looking at today. 2) There is at least one bruise on my shin. 3) Forget the mascara. Fortunately, no contact days can usually be cured by crawling onto the couch with a fuzzy blanket and a cup of coffee and watching a couple episodes of Cheers. This is what I plan to do when I get home today. Happy Friday, everyone. May you find the strength to pop in your contacts.

So, for Halloween this year, after already getting to dress up as an X-men character for Mark and Jenn's superhero party, I had to come up with a different character. I decided that recycling costumes is lame, as Facebook will surely rat you out in the photo section. So, I decided to go as Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister who ends up marrying Harry in the Harry Potter books.

It seems as though there was far too little holiday spirit happening on FSU campus yesterday. I only saw one other guy dressed up. He was dressed in a Peter Pan costume with some amazing green tights, so I have to give him props for that, but he was the only one I saw.

I got numerous compliments on my outfit. In the beginning, I thought they were complimenting the costume, but then I came to the horrible discovery that, wand or no wand, people didn't know I was dressed up for Halloween; they just thought I had dressed up for work. I thought back and realized that I rarely get complimented on my outfits at any other time.

So, what I learned is that the only time I look good is when I'm dressing up as a Harry Potter character. It was a sad realization. Oh well.

Coming to You Live with a Battered Nose

The first cold front has finally arrived in Tallahassee. We cut our temperature nearly in half and I think that's a pretty decent fraction. But it is at this special time of the year that a peculiar natural phenomenon occurs on campuses around the nation. Let's let Marty Stouffer give us some commentary.

It is as this time, in the land of the American college campus, that a strange occurrence occurs among creatures known as greeks. Greeks tend to flock together in packs and live in burrows together by gender. Male greeks can be distinguished from their female counterparts by the absence of Vera Bradley handbags, giant sunglasses, and intense accessorizing. With the first sign of a fall chill, female greeks immediately develop similar neck and hand fur of bright colours. This is known as the Walmart $9.99 matching glove and scarf set. The female greeks don't seem to mind the fact that their winter fur develops when temperatures still hover in the 70's and sometimes 80's. Nature and evolution cannot explain it, however, scientific research is still being done to determine the reasoning for the female greek's strange behaviour.

Apparently even Wild America is not able to answer my question. I am probably the most cold natured person I know, and sometimes I am tempted to bring a hat and scarf to work with me to keep from going into shock in our office, but even I know that 65 degrees is too warm to be marching all over campus in furry boots and woolen mittens. However, it did provide me amusement as I trekked up Copeland this morning. I would have gladly stayed and watched the typical Floridan students (of which I am one) meander in their paradoxical attire of flip-flops and warm jackets to escape being the guinea pig of a cruel scientific experiment of which I was about to be a part.

In my oh-so-pointless-but-required-to-graduate Speech class I'm taking, we have a requirement to participate in some sort of research project and it gets counted as a test grade. Most of the ones my TA listed were communication experiments dealing with things like brain injury, speaking issues, and hearing problems, and healthy students could participate to provide the "normal" data. The one I signed up for dealt with vocal cords and I thought that would be easy enough. I have vocal chords. They work properly. Too properly, maybe... So how hard could it be, right?

I should have known when I went down my third flight of stairs into the bowels of the Diffenbaugh building that this was not going to turn out well for me. Experiments should never take place in basements of 200 year old edifices. Make a note of that. Anyway, I did not take my own advice and so, determined to get my 50 points, I cautiously made my way into a small, damp room where my TA stood with a certain device that I'm quite sure is used by the CIA for "convincing." It was a long wire about the thickness of a TV cord with a camera attached to the end.

"We're going to stick this down your nose into your throat to look at your vocal chords," my TA said. "It doesn't hurt at all; it's just kind of weird feeling." You've got to be kidding me.

Well, as that chord went through my nasal canal and made its way down my wind pipe I started to believe that my TA must equate "weird feeling" with "severe torture." I felt like a what a duffel bag must feel like when a football player's trying to stuff just one more shoe in it and it won't go. This went against everything my pediatrician taught me. (One time Chris stuck a tic-tac nose and Dr. Bonnell told us that we should never put anything in our nose, especially cinnamon tic-tacs. So much for "breathe friendly." I don't think Chris took a breath through his nose for weeks.) I thought for sure I would lose my nose and be forced, like Major Kovalyov, to wander the streets without it.

And then, the final blow. Seeing my face stained with tears, my TA said to me, "Just think of the extra credit you're going to get."

"Extra credit?" I said. "This is for my research grade."

"Oh," she said. "Weren't you here Friday? I told you all that we were having a researcher come to the class and you could count that as your research grade."

I wanted to tell her she could take that cord and...well, I have to keep this G-rated. If that camera had not still been in my throat I might have done something that I would have seriously regretted later. She asked me how it felt and I told her getting my nose pierced hurt less. How much extra credit did I receive for that lovely experiment? 5 measly points on a quiz grade. That comes out to 2/10 of a point on my final grade. I'd say I laughed to keep from crying, but as I was already crying, the chuckling would have just been overkill.

The moral of this story is threefold.

1) Do not zone out in class.
2) Do not participate in scientific experiments that take place in dungeons.
3) Never let anyone put anything larger than a hair in your nose. If it's larger than that, it obviously does not belong there.

Alright ladies! Let's all get out our matching scarf and hat sets! It's 68 degrees out!

Quote o' the Day

"It's a good sign...when you win." -Bobby Bowden

See ya!

Over by the music building yesterday I overheard a man say to his blind friend, "See ya tomorrow." The blind man replied, "Yeah, see ya."

Call me a horrible person, but I was very amused by this.

(Plus, I figure few blind people read my blog anyway, so they will not be offended.)

In case you guys missed it, yesterday was the 50th anniversary of Sputnik 1. I imagine the launching of Sputnik 1 was quite distressing to the United States, since its R-7 launch vehicle was designed to carry nuclear warheads, but as I was not here then, to me it just looks like a cool spider thing.



Sputnik 5 was the mission that carried Belka and Strelka, the Soviet dogs. They were super cute.

Unlike Belka and Strelka, I like to keep my feet firmly planeted on terra firma. Well, maybe not on just the ground, but defnitely in this atmosphere. I don't think that's too much to ask. I like space. I like looking at it. I'd rather not be in it. I mean, what does space have? Aliens, death, destruction... There's no gravity, no air, no food, no Walmarts. Why would anyone want to go there except for sinister reasons like to blow other countries up? I tell you, no good can come of it.

I'm excited about the game tomorrow. Melissa got me super great seats. Unlike the USF game, I will actually be able to see the players this time. (Just kidding, Dad. The seats were great...)

Happy October, everybody!

Saturday Morning Nostalgia

I am not a good little kid shopper. Last night I went to Walmart for the sole purpose of buying a present for my friend Sveta's kid's birthday party tonight at Chuck E. Cheese. Masha is turning six and well, if she were 6-teen or 6-ty I probably could have found something with no problem, but 6 is just not good. I wandered aimlessly through the toy section amidst Tonka trucks and Barbie castles and came to the conclusion that there is just way too much crap in the toy section. Let's face it; it's all a rip off. I mean, how many toys did you actually play with when you were little for more than a week? More than a day? When it comes down to it, there are really only 3 things the basic kid needs to keep him or her happy:

1. Quilts
2. Legos
3. A Refrigerator Box

Let me explain because Lori is probably the only person who is with me at this point. Saturday mornings were very structured in my house when I was little. Dad always worked on Saturdays and Mom took the opportunity to sleep in, so we were on our own. When we didn't have soccer practice, at 6:30, on the dot, my brothers and I got up and fixed ourselves some cereal and watched Beast Wars on Fox 49 with Mrs. Jan. (Can I get a shout out for Mrs. Jan? Any native Tallahassean remembers her. We didn't have cable so the privilege of watching Stick Stickly on Nickelodeon was lost to us.) Then we moved on to Power Rangers, then to X-men, then to Spiderman and sometimes to Bill Nye the Science Guy if we were feeling in the educational mood. Chances are we weren't- so the T.V. was left behind at about 10 a.m.

Now sometimes we read books or watched more TV or played games, but the all time favorite thing to do on Saturday mornings before Mom got up was to get all the quilts and blankets out of the bathroom closet and make a giant tent out of our whole living room. The key to this fantastic event was to get it started before Mom got up, otherwise she wouldn't let us because she knew she would be the one folding up all the blankets and quilts afterwards. But as long as we got it started before 10:30 we were good to go. We always began by stuffing the pink and white quilt into the top of our upright piano (another thing Mom disapproved of) and draped it over the bench. From there on out we threw blankets over couches and love seats and even the fireplace mantle. We had our own country under there, each of us with a separate little piece of the kingdom. I, of course, always ruled the lands surrounding the Piano Castle. This was undisputed. I think that Chris usually ended up ruling the dark, hilly lands of KofeeTabel and Cameron got stuck with the heavily industrial Entertainment Centre Field. Sometimes Mom would even let us keep it up all the way through Sunday. Somehow, even though the blankets were really the equivalent to an indoor shanty town, they managed to keep us entertained for a good part of the whole weekend.

If by some chance Mom got up early on Saturday morning or Dad happened to be off, they would generally look down upon our destroying the whole house for the sake of creating our little indoor kingdom, so we just had to make one that was much smaller. Causing nearly as much mess was our collection of legos, a collection that had been built up for years by small purchases ever so often at garage sales. Cities rose, battles were fought, planets were explored, skyscrapers were constructed- all in the foyer of our house. It was the kingdom of primary colors- red, yellow and blue. We built to our hearts' content, hours on end.

And then there was #3. Every once in a while on the way home from somewhere, Mom would stop by the Maytag store and throw an old refrigerator box into the back of our van. Sometimes she'd get three so that we'd each have one. There is nothing greater than a refrigerator box. They are for both indoor and outdoor use. You can live in it, sleep in it, decorate it, cut holes in it, eat in it, watch movies in it, color in it. Anything exciting you can do as a kid can be made even more exciting by doing it in a refrigerator box. All other toys pale by comparison.

Naturally, I had to bypass getting Masha #1 or #3 for her birthday. And the Lego selection at Walmart seemed to be limited to incredibly complicated, instructions-required legos. A plethora of colors and sizes, translucent and opaque- Lego has gone tragically far from its simple primary color beginnings. I left the toy section feeling quite uninspired. Fortunately, at that very moment Ruth called and gave me some good advice, so I traipsed over to the jewelry section and bought Mashenka some princess jewelry. I hope she likes it. Otherwise I might stop by the Maytag store and get her a slightly unconventional but much more exciting refrigerator box.

What Happens in Rovetta Stays in Rovetta

I've always thought I was much too frugal for gambling. Throwing money away in mass quantities never appealed to me much. I never thought that buying lottery tickets was being a good steward of my money.

(However, as a side note I would like to say that Melissa can play the lottery all she wants because when she wins, she and Jenn are going to open up an orphanage in Ukraine and I will get to come play in it. Play on, Melissa; play on.)

I think that although I may have strong convictions in that regard, I am still going to have to stay far away from slot machines.

This is how I came to that conclusion.

I am a big fan of Coke Zero Cherry. And once I get fixated on a drink, well, that is just what I want. Sally Albright wanted her dressing on the side and I want cherry in my coke. Is that really too much to ask? Until FSU starts putting Pepsi in the coke machines, I will just keep finding Coke Zero Cherries. I really don't like anything else that is in them. Well, I was getting ready to go to Russian lit, my most favorite class, and I knew that I was really going to need some caffeine to keep me awake. So, I walked over to the Rovetta building to coke machine row, where seven beautiful coke machines are available for service. I placed my five quarters in and hit "Coke Zero Cherry." Sold out. So I went to the next one. Sold out. #3...4...5, they were all sold out. After #6 I started to get worried. I put in my five quarters in lucky number seven and pushed "Coke Zero Cherry." The dismal red button lit up. No luck. So, I hit "coin return" for the seveth pathetic time. Then, to my surprise, six, not five quarters slid of the machine.

"Must have been chance," I thought. "Someone left their quarter in there."

But in the back of my mind I knew I had heard six quarters hit the bottom of the coin return. There was only one way to find out if I was predestined to get another extra quarter. I picked up my five original quarters (with lucky number six safe in my pocket), and stuck them in again.

"Alright," I thought. "Big money, big money!"

My eyes grew twice their normal size as I watched six quarters fall into my hand. My head started screaming, "I won! I won!" Something momentarily took over my body. I had to do it again. Somehow my logical brain was replaced by this greedy monster who wanted nothing more except to get another extra quarter. "Win the jackpot, Calyn." I would have played all day. (Well, I'm sure at some point I would have realized that to keep doing it would be stealing from the Coca Cola company, but we hadn't gotten to that point yet.) But as I placed my quarters in for the third time and hit "coin return" nothing happened. Only my five original quarters came out. Something clicked in my head. My normal, logical self returned. I slapped myself. "Get a hold of yourself, Calyn."

It was at that point that I realized I would never be visiting the state of Nevada. The first and most obvious reason of course being the aliens, but I think that the Danny Ocean in me would not be able to control myself in the Mirage. I think I'll just keep playing Texas Hold 'Em with M&M's.

Jenna drew some graffiti on my facebook wall. It is pretty much amazing.

This just in: Archers are trading in their Jim Bows for Tee Bows

It would be a blatant lie if I told you that I enjoy my 8 o'clock class on Monday mornings, but I do enjoy getting to FSU before the myriad others arrive and take all the good parking spots. There is something very rewarding about getting one of the first spots in the little student lot on College Street. It puts you above the rest. Maybe you are more committed, more parking savvy, more talented at navigating through morning traffic. Or maybe you just value sleep less. It's most likely the latter, but nonetheless, my little Saturn looks quite content in that first row.

It's official- 9 out of 10 Tallahasseans believe that if FSU played a game against Lincoln's highschool football team tomorrow, Lincoln would win.

Well...maybe I made that statistic up, but I think there's some truth to it. (I really do believe that everyone would agree that Lincoln could beat Notre Dame. Heck, maybe even Leon could beat Notre Dame.) But, a win is a win and even a pathetic excuse for a victory is better than a loss. 2-1 looks much better than 1-1.

And what do you know? Miami actually managed to keep its players from having a full-scale riot this weekend. Most colleges would consider this a no-brainer, but not the poor UM students whose exorbitant tuition fees have been financing anger management therapy sessions for their football playing classmates. Now, if they can just beat a good team...

Enough of my pathetic excuse for football commentary. It boils down to this- 2 Florida teams are playing very well and 2, well, aren't. And if I hear the name "Tebow" one more time this week I will throw something. So steer clear.

6 Years Later

It's been 6 years since 9/11, but it feels more like yesterday. So many tributes and memorials were raised to honor the fallen, but I remember this video the best.

To all the Swiss out there...

You should never go grocery shopping when you are hungry. It is a bad plan. Combine hunger with Publix, where shopping is a pleasure, and you have a recipe for disaster. Perhaps not disaster, but an extra-large grocery bill. Jenna and I went to buy grapes. Green grapes were 99 cents a pound and this is a good deal, especially if you enjoy grapes. Grapes were the only thing we needed. But, you see, Publix had all of these buy one/get one deals yesterday. And I mean, if you buy one, you get one free. Who can pass this up? Jenshka and I filled our buggy with sweet tea, bagels, yogurt, green beans, healthy choice microwave meals, and some "lightly cinnamon" wheat thins. I have a bone to pick with the Wheat Thins company. "Lightly cinnamon" doesn't make any sense. It should be "light cinnamon" or "lightly cinnamoned" or "lightly flavored with cinnamon." "Lightly cinnamon" is both confusing and grammatically incorrect. I mean, how can cinnamon be "lightly?" Cinnamon can be old, it can be delicious, it can be aromatic, but it cannot be lightly. Unfortunately, there seems to be a hole in the English requirement of the marketing major.

Is it bad that I'm already anticipating the end of the semester? It's only day 4 of class, but yesterday in Russian Lit I doodled pictures of stars and kept count of how many times my professor said the word "how-eeeeeever." 14. In my defense, she spent much of the lecture telling the story of how Prince Vladimir chose Christianity as the religion for the kingdom of Russia. I tell this same story every year at Radooga Orientation. I know it backwards and forwards. And when I tell it, it is much more interesting. My prefered storytelling medium is the flannelgraph, but when this is unavailable, a white board will do. She used nothing but her mouth. How am I supposed to keep interested?

Last night Kenley, Jenna, Joe, Janelle, David, Dean and I ate fish at Dean's house and then we watched the Sound of Music. To clear up for everyone, Edelweiss is neither the anthem of Austria nor even an Austrian song. It was simply written by Rogers and Hammerstein for the musical. The edelweiss is actually the national flower of Switzerland. Who knew? (Probably the Swiss.)


(Edelweiss)

Monday is Labor Day and as such, we will be taking a break from our labors. This means that there will be a kickball game at 5:30 on the hill. Everyone should be there. :0) Arrivederci!

Run the Earth; Watch the Sky

I love looking at the stars. I honestly know very little about them, other than what I've picked up from Bill Nye, PBS, and an Earth Science course at TCC, but truthfully, I'd prefer to keep it that way. There's something beautiful and enticing about looking up at the night sky and enjoying it for its mystery. This is why I was very excited about the email I got that said on August 27th, Mars was to appear as large as the moon, "A great night for stargazers." While Diane, Jenna and Kenley played a rousing game of Monopoly- realtor's version (They make it far too complicated for any normal human being to play. There are timeshares, rentals, managers of properties, financing available, leases and all sorts of other nonsense involved), Leah and I grabbed a sheet and a bottle of bugspray and made for the grassy part of the yard near our hammock. We never saw Mars. I'm sure it was there in all its red glory, but sadly, we never caught of glimpse of it.

All was not a loss, though. The moon was particularly beautiful. (I hear there was a lunar eclipse early this morning, but we missed that one as well.) One of my favorite things about laying on a blanket and looking at stars with people is that looking towards heaven generally steers conversation in that same direction. Some of the best talks I've had with people have been while looking at stars. So thanks for the company, Leah! :0)



"Sometimes I think of Abraham, how one star he saw had been lit for me..." - Rich Mullins

My last first day...

Today was my last first day of school. Last first day... Now, see, yesterday evening that thought brought about a sort of melancholy feeling, but after walking a mile up a hill through the rain at at way too early in the morning it morphed into a thought of comfort. Like most college campuses, FSU has far too little parking, and what parking it does have is confined to the outskirts of campus where it is really not convenient to anything or anyone. I parked in a parking garage around a mile from where I work and started trekking up Jefferson Street in the pouring rain. But then- a bus! It was so close. I took off running towards it, but as soon as I was close enough to read the numbers on the license plate it took off to rumble towards the next stop. Lucky for me, traffic was horrible, so I knew if I ran I could cut it off and get it at the next stop. So I did. But then, as I sprinted towards the finish line my shoe broke and I had to run back and pick it up. I was a pitiful case, soaking wet, standing on the sidewalk with a broken shoe and a sad excuse for an umbrella, watching my only hope of walking into my office with some bit of dignity left to me head towards Southgate to pick up the rich freshman. Ah well, such is life. Thankfully, my last first day is over and I can move on to my last second day.

T minus 3 days until college football...get fired up.

Rest in Peace, Back to the Future

I am not really a theme park person. I mean, they're okay and all, but somehow waiting in a line for hour to be thrilled for 45 seconds just doesn't seem like the best use of my time. However, I have always wanted to go to Universal Studios. During my, Carli and Derek's reunion this past weekend I was presented with the perfect theme park visiting opportunity- completely free with no travel time. Who could pass this up? So it was off to Universal. One cannot be too careful about losing their car, so we took a picture.

I was so glad that I remembered my sweater that day.

We first went to Islands of Adventure and Carli asked what we would like to do. I told her that we could do anything that everybody wanted as long as we made sure to get to the Back to the Future ride. My whole life I had wanted to ride it.

Imagine my complete dismay when we followed the map to the Back to the Future ride to see it completely torn down, preparing for some monstrosity known as "The Simpsons Ride." How could Michael J. Fox and Christopher Lloyd even be compared with the Simpsons!? Back to the Future is a classic! One of the greatest movies ever made! I can't even make it through 3 minutes of the Simpsons! The store was still there, the DeLorean parked outside, but a horrid pink sprinkled donut was all that stood in place of the greatest ride of all time.


Fortunately some other great movie rides remained. We got to see Terminator in 3-D and Carli almost got us kicked out with her flash photography. (She is hardcore.)

And we took our picture with the greatest vehicle ever not made.

The third time I got stuck in this very seat my self esteem started to fall...

We even managed to take in some great waves.

Me and Derek doing our best Bubba faces.

red said it best

i miss fountain drink stops at places with dr. pepper and diet pepsi

i miss roadtrips to the georgia (the state, not the country ;0) line at 3 o'clock in the morning.

i miss late night bunkbed talks

i miss celebrating april 4th every year with seafood

i miss drawing the lyrics to songs on computer paper

i miss trying out hair braiding skills before youth on sundays

i miss splitting shrimp and scallop meals

i miss not having to finish my thoughts out loud

i miss rocking out to petra

i miss the tale of the three trees

i miss speeding down fred george with the sunroof open

i miss hanging out on todd's couch

i miss eating cereal for dinner

i miss walking down the hill...

...onto the white stones...

...between the two trees...

...through a couple spiderwebs...

...to a perpetually locked door

i miss drama practice

i miss the seals at seaworld

i miss watching the shawshank redemption and quoting all of morgan freeman's best lines

i miss opening christmas presents way too early

i miss singing american pie from start to finish on the way to church

i miss being read max lucado books

i miss being in the same time zone

i miss being on the phone until 2 in the morning when i used to think it was late

I miss messing up all the words to "into the woods."

i miss being four houses away

i miss sharing a room

i miss grocery shopping

i miss agreeing on all essentials- sour cream, pelmeni, cheap toilet paper and coke light

i miss 8 episodes of boy meets world a day

i miss sharing everything

i miss planning what to do with a newly bought delorean

i miss looking up the lyrics to songs on google so we can make sure we've got it right

i miss cinnamon-sprinkled coffee

i miss dead deer

i miss walking home from the bus stop

i miss sneaking away from maria ivanovna

i miss the jeep

i miss trying to figure out how many grams of cookies we need

i miss singing big fish in the car

i miss sharing headphones on the marshrutka

i miss celtic festivals

i miss playing at the coast

i miss giving toasts at shenanigans

i miss playing christmas music in july

i miss educating our generation on how great cheers is

i miss having to buy half as many cd's

i miss putting up my christmas tree

i miss taking it all for granted and thinking it would always be exactly the way it was

i guess i just miss my friend

Was anybody driving down Tennessee Street at about 1:45 yesterday? It was like a dam broke. Rain pouring down from out of nowhere. Ocala looked a lot like this-



That's me standing there by that rock where Crystal River used to be.

Anyway, I managed to keep my little Saturn from floating away by staying in the middle lane because the right hand one was submerged in rushing water. I was completely soaked running the 5 feet from my car to my door. I'm reading through Genesis and when I opened up my Bible last night, lo and behold, we were on the story of Noah. Not the Evan Almighty version, but the old school one. (Michael Scott or not, I'm not a fan of sequels so I'm going to bypass that one.) So here's the gist of chapter 7.

"The LORD then said to Noah, "Go into the ark, you and your whole family, because I have found you righteous in this generation...And Noah did all that the LORD commanded him...And after the seven days the floodwaters came on the earth."

I wonder if Noah or any of his family thought about how ridiculous it seemed to wait 7 days inside an ark for the whole earth to flood. In the Fantasia version of Noah and the ark it starts to rain as soon as they all get inside. Granted, you can't expect the story to be too terribly accurate when Noah hires Donald Duck as his assistant. But I just think that if I were in that ark, sharing my room with an elephant, an anaconda and a couple of horned toads, I'd be ready to throw in my hat and get back to the sunshine. Good thing they didn't though, or I suppose I wouldn't be here.

I suppose God does promise us things and then makes us wait a bit. Afterall, the Israelites waited 400 years for freedom. I hope I never have to wait that long for something.

Free Fallin'

I wouldn't say I'm clumsy. My feet just like to meander out and about on their own a bit without my head knowing it. They're very unreliable. But, then, how would you like to be a foot, really? All the weight of the body rests on you and you just hold it up, carrying it around with no say in where it goes. I for one would rather be an eye or a hand. This is sounding familiarly like a sermon out of Corinthians.

I was going to let Foot 1 and Foot 2 have a few words in this blog post, but I'm currently upset with them over their embarrassing display off Hartsfield Road today. They tell me that the sidewalk just seemed to jump out in front of them, but I don't believe any of this. I think the Foots and the Eyes are plotting my demise. They're off to a good start. However, the Knees and Hands are livid over the gashes and bruises they endured today while a slew of drivers watched and so there will be no cooperation from them. There could be a mutiny tonight while I sleep. When that happens I generally fall off the bunkbed and Head suffers the most. Poor Head. He doesn't bother anyone.

Anyway, I am going to go find some neosporin and a couple band-aids. You all have a fabulous day. And if any of you would like to go see Leon's production of "My Fair Lady" tomorrow night, let me know. Arrivederci!

How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them?
-the apostle Paul



My friend Nick is sharing the gospel with people in the Phillipines. He's been there for a couple months. He canoed up a river to share with people who have never heard the gospel. There's no churches, no pastors, no Christian schools, no WWJD? bracelets, no Jesus Loves You coffee mugs and no metal fish stuck on the back of rusty pick up trucks. No one has ever gone to share the good news of Jesus at any time.

This is a picture he took of a Filpino woman crying over the fact that Jesus died for her. She didn't know.

"If sinners be damned, at least let them leap to Hell over our bodies. If they will perish, let them perish with our arms about their knees. Let no one go there unwarned and unprayed for."
-Charles Spurgeon

It Wasn't So "Affle"...

There's just something about Waffle House. The food's rarely good, the service is terrible and bowl of grits houses more butter than a Land O' Lakes factory. But we all still go there. Maybe it's because we feel sorry for the lonely employees who wait tiredly at 3 o'clock in the morning for some poor soul to come in and talk to them. Or maybe it's because a waffle only costs $1.25 and this is just barely under my 4th meal budget. Whatever the case may be, this is the restaurant Diane chose for us to eat at after the Fourth of July event last Wednesday. Our friends Eric and Logan drove down from the metropolis of Hahira, Georgia to watch the fireworks with us and then it was off to the Waffle House on Capital Circle.

Waffle House was surprisingly crowded at 11:00 that evening. 2 employees, a cook and a waiter, ran around like chickens with their heads cut off, the latter looking particularly despondent. We filled up about 3 tables and were waiting patiently for someone to come to our table when the waiter stood up declared, "This is [insert expletive here]," and walked out, pad in hand. The cook seemed to turn white and all of us looked at him, wondering what we were supposed to do. He started to pace the floor and looked as though he was about to faint at any moment. He tried calling his manager, but she was an hour away. He didn't even know how to use the register. Or take orders. He was just the cook. All of us who'd already eaten didn't have tickets, so we didn't know how much we owed. It was at this point that Christina Klawinski stood up and put her hand on the cook's shoulder and said, "I'll run the register." Christina went behind the counter and started tinkering with the register, trying to figure it out. The cook, Randall was his name, looked so relieved that Diane got up and started taking drink orders. Another girl from a different table (who looked a lot like Joy Fulford, so we took to calling her that) asked Randall for a pad of paper and began to take orders for everybody. Armed with a menu in one hand and a calculator in another, a skinny muscular guy in a wife-beater began to walk to each table making tickets for everyone. Kenley calculated tax, Logan put on an apron and hat and began to wash dishes, another guy named Doug began scooping out grits and Joy's daughter began cleaning tables. Randall had never had such help, nor such a clean store.

After about half an hour, the new "employees" of the Capital Circle Waffle House were already shouting orders to each other. Joy chided Doug for his ignorance of the Waffle House menu. "Come on, Doug, you know that the All Star breakfast comes with a waffle!" Kenley was demanding refills and all of us were feeling pretty comfortable in there. When the manager walked in unexpectedly all of us stopped dead. We'd violated so many health codes and labor laws. But she only smiled and went on and on about how blessed she was with such sweet customers. So it was with a mix of disappointment and relief that we handed over the reigns to her. Randall got the biggest tip that night he'll probably ever see and he had a pretty darn good Fourth of July that day. I think that all of us have jobs waiting for us at Waffle House if we ever need them. (I also think that we'll all respectfully decline the offer.)

Jason and the Limbs

And now it's time for that great 50's doo-wop hit by Jason and the Limbs- Do You Have a Chainsaw?

We're here with Jenna Myrick, triangle player for the one hit wonder group Jason and the Limbs. Tell me, Jenna, what's the story behind your band's name?

Well, Jason was my neighbor back in 2007. One day he came to the door and asked me if I saw the lamp that fell in my backyard and I said, "Wha? There's a lamp in my backyard?" And he said, "Liiiiimmmb." And I said, "Oh, no, I haven't seen the limb that fell in my backyard."

Do you find it hard to understand Jason on a regular basis?

No, but he insists that he has a strong southern accent. He doesn't.

Was this the first time that Jason has come over?

No...he likes to over-inform us on things that happen at our house. Normally it's kind of annoying, but this time I really did have no idea that there was half a tree in our yard.

How'd it fall?

Well, we assumed that lightening had struck it because it had been storming really bad, but Jason gave me a long, drawn-out explaination about how "this here tree's a wateroak and that's why it fell and blah, blah, blah." Laurie says it's a cherry tree. He's misinformed.

So, what happened next?

Well, we walked outside to see a giant limb, and I'm talking giant, from the tree that had fallen onto our hammock in our backyard. And he asks me, "Do you have a chainsaw?" And I said, "Uh, no." And he said, "Do you have any kind of saw?" And I said, "No." And he said, "Well, if I had a chainsaw, I'd cut it down right now. But since I don't, do you want me to call your landlord?"

Why would he call? Were you not speaking to your landlord?

No, Todd and I are pretty much BFF. But Jason didn't know this and he felt like it was his responsibiltiy to take care of the needs of the world. He assumes we're little helpless college girls.
Jason insists on moving the tree because he thinks that it's going to injure his fence. I asked if he needed assistance, but he said, "No, that's okay, Sweetie."

Do you think it's normal for 40-year old men to call you Sweetie?

Uh, no, but at least he didn't call me Sugarlips.
Jason tries to move the limb, but it's obviously too heavy because he sounds like he's going to have a heart attack at any moment. But as he pushes it a piece flies up against the fence and whacks it off. He didn't seem too concerned. It'll give him a place to look through to make sure no more limbs have fallen into our yard.

Thanks for your time, Jenshka. Let's give it up for Jason and the Limbs.

One- Ahahah! Two- Ahahaha!

Publixes just make me happy. They are so welcoming. And the stores are green and I just love green. Jenna and I went yesterday to pick up some diet lime soda for this stuff we're making and lo and behold, 12-packs of coke products were 5 for $10. This is utterly amazing. So we stocked up. And then we found all these buy one get one deals, Cool Whip, mushrooms, cereal. At the end of our amazing Publix experience I looked at my receipt. It said- Total: $22.01. Total Savings: $22.10. We saved more than we spent with all of our buy one get ones. This is a new mile marker in my life. If you live in a place that doesn't have Publixes, you are missing out. Call your congressman.

I was not naive enough to think that the feeling during my great shopping experience would be a feeling that would continue throughout the evening. It never happens that way. Dad and I went running at the Godby track and he was going to come in and use my cellphone to call his brother. We go to open the door and as I open it we both fall back writhing in pain, foaming at our mouths. Okay, well, not that bad, but Diane had spilt GARLIC in the house. My most hated enemy. I cringe at the sound of its name. Like nuclear radiation it had swept through my home and could even be smelt on the back porch. Dad could not handle it and went home. I almost followed him to make a spot on the couch. Fortunately, the garlic smell killed off my senses in the first 30 minutes or so as I could not tell the difference between Diane's roses and the spoiled milk in the fridge. Lerah's going to have to find a place to read that vampire book somewhere else. No vampire would be brave enough to venture onto our street at this point.



Count VonCount says: Only YOU can prevent garlic spills!

air matress + sinkhole + illegal substances = not good

Carli came up this weekend.
And there was much rejoicing.

She is not in Tallahassee very often, so on each visit we try to show her the best Tallahassee has to offer. This weekend it was WalMarts and sinkholes. (And you ask why people want to get out of this town...)

Friday afternoon was all ours, so I took Carli to one of my favorite places in Tallahassee, the Country Dollar. We trekked all the way over to Apalachee Parkway. Too bad Mr. and Mrs. Countrydollar were on vacation. But that's okay because I had Kleenex in the car. (There was much sorrow.) Next on our list was to make sweet bags so we could be like Lori, Jake and Taylor. We went out to the Apalachee Walmart and made our way back to the fabric section. Or what should have been the fabric section. Alas, Walmarts are getting rid of the fabric deparment. Did you know this? You should contact your senators. Just terrible. So then we drove in 5 o'clock traffic to the Tennessee Street Walmart which currently has its fabric department still intact. We lost ourselves in Martha Stewartness for a few hours and I only ironed my arm once. This is a new record. (Say it like the guy on DanceDance Revolution- "Itsa new rec'ad!")

Saturday morning we saddled up and went to Cherokee Sink. There we were greeted by some local Wakullians jumping out of trees and way too many pairs of cut-off jean shorts, but we weren't complaining. The water was nice and cold and I got my couple backflips in off the high dive before necessity drove me away. (One too many offers of "If you drown, I specialize in CPR," from guys with sketchy tattoos.) However, an hour or so later I started smelling this odd smell. It was kinda giving me a headache and Nicole was getting a little giddy...(just kidding, Nicole). This is how it went down.

"Gosh, what is that smell?" -innocent me
"Uh...that's pot." -Carli

Our eyes drifted to the couple of shifty-eyed 14-year old tattooed boys who had somehow thought it a better idea drag their mom's velour-topped air matress out of the closet to throw in the sinkhole rather than buying a dollar raft from Walmart. The smoke drifting up from their matress and their obnoxious giggling gave it away.

Note to the potheads out there- Getting high on illegal substances and then jumping on an air matress while floating to the middle of a 100-foot sinkhole in the middle of Wakulla country is never a good idea.

Alright kids, let's review our lessons for today-

Make a quick phonecall before driving in traffic 45 minutes to jewelry stores.
Never assume that Walmart is going to have what you need.
Winners don't use drugs.

This blog post was brought to you by the letter Z and the number 9.

How To Convert Your Friends into Country Music Fans

People, it has happened. I have successfully converted Jenna into a country music fan. Jenna. The last person I thought I could get to listen to 94.9. I couldn't have done it alone. Thanks to The Dean, Sarah, Lori and the others who have supported me in this endeavour.

Friends have come to me and said, "Calyn, how did you do this? I've been trying for years to get my [insert being here] to listen to country music with no luck."

I've decided to write a self-help manual on my blog to help you all.

Converting Your Friends into Country Music Fans for Dummies -by Calyn Reber

Step 1- Finding Common Ground

Not all of us have been blessed enough to grow up listening to country music. Some people have parents who always listened to Rush Limbaugh on the radio, some listened to Wee Sing Kid tapes, some lived in places where they didn't have country music, like Bangladesh or South Florida. Often times when those friends enter your vehicle to hear Alabama blasting, it's a little too much for them to handle. Their ears have not been accustomed to twang and nearly understandable southern accents. This is why you must find common ground first.

Turn your dial to Star 98. There, in the midst of crap like, "This is why I'm hot...this is why you're not...I'm hot 'cause I'm fly...You ain't 'cause you not..." you will occasionally hear goodness creeping through. Goodness like Keith Urban and Carrie Underwood. This is where you start.

When person X enters your vehicle, have a CD ready to go with songs of various people whom Star 98 has deemed worthy to play on their station. Things like, "Making Memories of Us," and "Who Says You Can't Go Home." You'll want to bypass "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy" at this point in the game.

Hopefully, you will hear person X humming or even singing along. Once you have reached this point, prepare for step 2.

Step 2- Let Them Think That They are Doing You a Favor

When person X enters your car, wait until they get situated and then say, "Oh, sorry. I forgot you don't like to listen to country music. Then change it to some sad alternative. Most of the time, if you have a good friend, they will say, "Oh, no. It's okay. It's your car," or something like that.

Step 2 is tricky because it may or may not happen. You may have a friend who is not that polite. After repeated failed efforts it is okay to move ahead to Step 3

Step 3- The Roadtrip

The roadtrip is absolutely essential for full submersion. Without the roadtrip, one can spend months, even years repeating steps one and two, hoping for a breakthrough. I am speaking from experience, because I was converted in a roadtrip. Sarah and Rebekah promised me that if I listened to country music for our whole Alabama roadtrip that I would be a fan by the time we came home. I didn't believe them. But it was true.

The key about country music is it's only fun once you know the words. It's great singalong music. I mean, really, how many rap songs can you sing along to? You mostly just bob your head, do the white man's overbite, and wait for the chorus. So, this is why roadtrips are essential. Camping roadtrips in giant Tahoe's with ipods make for great conversions. You need multiple people singing along. Find a theme song. You want something with catchy lyrics that you can quote like, "Mmmmmmmmmmm, old man Wrigley has died..." Then you do your best Ronnie Dunn impersonations. You want to figure out the songs that person X likes, and play those multiple times, until they start learning the words. Once they learn lyrics, your work is basically done.

99% of the time you will have a country music fan upon your return.



Calyn Reber is a freelance writer in the Florida Panhandle. She started listening to country music at the age of six, but fell away until some friends brought her back in high school. She spends some of her time paying forward what her friends did for her. She likes swimming, jogging and tapioca pudding. Calyn lives in Tallahassee with her roommates, Diane and Jenna and their pet turtle, Sam. Or, at least if she had a pet turtle, his name would be Sam.

"Mmmm, old man pelican has died..."

So this weekend was the best weekend ever! Camping Extravaganza with the Dean, Jenna, David, Tori, Kenley, Joe and Diane; later joined by Tamara, Nicole and Janelle.



The Dean showed up in the boat to pick us up. He is quite the street sailor.



It's important to stay hydrated. After we drank the water in the bottles we drank the bottles too. It's difficult to digest caps, though. (However, not as hard as a fishing hook. "mmm, old man pelican has died...")



After we set up camp, me, the Dean, Joe and Jenna went to Tony Roma's for dinner.



It was super good.

That night the rest of the gang came down, and they didn't know that Joe was there. It was a surprise. So, Joe went and hid himself on the sand dune behind our campsite. After everybody had settled down and started a campfire, Joe came down the sand dune making monster noises and scared the crap out of Tori. It was amazing. Uh-mazing.



The next day we got up, ate breakfast and headed to the beach.



I had no idea at that point about the sunburn I was destined to get.



Tori is practicing her fish face.



Me and Jenshka



We are so amazing. (This is before Jenna falls and takes off half of her knee.)



David takes good pictures.



Back at the campsite. We're trying to look tough and camper-like.



That's a good one.



David says this is his "K-String's Angels" pic.



David's best "redneck tourist" pose.



Me, Jenshka, Tamara and Nicole found some swings. Yay.


Tamerica



Nicole



I think we need to invest in some swings, Jenshka.



Me, searching for dolphins



Tamerica, showing off her skimboarding skillz.



Cooking up some hotdogs.



On the way home I was super cold, so David gave me his sleeping bag.



Nicole buckled me in.



Jenna came to see me turn into a beautiful butterfly.

It was a super great trip. We thought about doing it every weekend, but I don't think my skin and Jenna's knees could withstand the pressure. Oh well.

Spending Most My Life in a Beanpole Paradise

I'm going camping this weekend. Camping at the beach. This means 3 things: 1) Sunburn, 2) Sunburn, and 3) I need to buy a new bathing suit. I haven't bought a new bathing suit in probably 5 years. I haven't bought new tennis shoes in about 5 years either, but this is different. When I tell people I haven't replaced my amazing New Balance tennis shoes they say, "Oh, well they definitely don't look that old," or, "Oh, they're in such good shape, though." (The tennis shoes, not me.) But when I say "I haven't bought a new bathing suit in 5 years," everyone looks up at the ceiling, twiddles their thumbs and crickets can be heard chirping in the background. I took that to mean it was time to brave the department stores and get ready to join the masses screaming and crying in the dressing rooms. (It's true. Grown women, bursting into tears in the dressing rooms of the swimsuit department. You laugh, but it's true...)

I made my way over to the Tallahassee mall and was unsuccessful at Goody's and Oshman's. Then it was over to Dillard's where I had wild success, but could not justify paying $100 for a swimsuit. The thought that I could send 20 more Bibles to China this month with that was too much. So in a last ditch effort, I trekked over to Target.

It was paradise. Bathing suits everywhere. All different colors and styles. And only about 50% were the slutty ones, so I had a good chance of finding a decent one. And then, as I made my through the first rack, panic set it. They were all smalls. All of them. No mediums, no larges, no extra-larges... I watched the little Mary Kates and Ashleys blissfully grab handfuls to take to the dressing rooms. It was beanpole paradise. I walked dejected through the aisles. And then a thought hit me. I left the light bulb over my head in the dust and went to the return rack outside the dressing room. There, shining in all their glory, were 3 mediums! My search was over. I only screamed for a second and happily went to the checkout.

Quote o' the Day:

"Yeah, I dropped it like it was hot, but then I couldn't pick it back up." -Selena

We shall have all eternity to celebrate our victories, but we have only one swift hour before the sunset in which to win them." -Robert Moffat

Me and the gang watched Schindler's List last night. The idea was sparked with a round of "Shout About Movies." My team correctly guessed that the last black and white movie to receive the Academy Award for best picture was Schindler's List, but none of us had ever actually seen it. Obviously, that's not really a movie that you get together with a group of people and have a party to watch. "Hey guys, Miss Congeniality, Legally Blonde, or Schindler's List?" But as all of us at one point or another had wanted to see it, Kenley ordered it on Net Flicks.

I was amazing at how Schindler could act completely indifferent with Nazi officials, convincing them that his Jews meant nothing to him except a few extra coins in his pocket over and over. He spent his entire fortune bribing Nazi officials and buying supplies to keep his workers alive. He even bought artillery shells from other factories to pass off as his own so that his own factory would not have any part in helping the German war cause. In the movie Schindler says to his accountant Itzhak, "Stern, if this factory ever produces a shell that can actually be fired, I'll be very unhappy."

And while the ending was incredible, with Oskar Schindler saving nearly 1,100 Jews from certain death in Auschwitz, it was Schindler's own reaction to everything that moved me the most. He is surrounded by 1,100 Jews who owe him their lives and this is what he says:

Oskar Schindler: I could have got more out. I could have got more. I don't know. If I'd just... I could have got more.
Itzhak Stern: Oskar, there are eleven hundred people who are alive because of you. Look at them.
Oskar Schindler: If I'd made more money... I threw away so much money. You have no idea. If I'd just...
Itzhak Stern: There will be generations because of what you did.
Oskar Schindler: I didn't do enough!
Itzhak Stern: You did so much.
[Schindler looks at his car]
Oskar Schindler: This car. Goeth would have bought this car. Why did I keep the car? Ten people right there. Ten people. Ten more people.
[removing Nazi pin from lapel]
Oskar Schindler: This pin. Two people. This is gold. Two more people. He would have given me two for it, at least one. One more person. A person, Stern. For this.
[sobbing]
Oskar Schindler: I could have gotten one more person... and I didn't! And I... I didn't!

And that got me thinking (as movies usually do). When my life is over and I stand before God, I know I'll have my share of cars and lapel pins. Selfish ambitions and wasteful living, time that could have been spent furthering the kindgom. I won't stand there going, "I could have made more money. I could have gotten that promotion," but I am almost certain I will look around me and say, "I could have gotten one more person. I could have fed the hungry, shared my time, and told one more about the love of Christ."

In church a few Sundays ago, Erik was talking about what we build our foundation upon. We're reading in I Corinthians. Paul said this, "But each one should be careful how he builds. For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. If any man builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, his work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each man's work. If what he has built survives, he will receive his reward. If it is burned up, he will suffer loss; he himself will be saved, but only as one escaping through the flames."

I know I've gotta be more careful about how I build. Maybe I should quit typing and go do something. Do widzenia.

Quote O' the Day

"I will eat anything that swims." -Me
"I will eat anything that swims and is a chicken." -Kenley




Maybe this will work?