We have a crabapple tree in front of our house, and when we first moved in to the house, it rained little sour fruit all over the driveway, creating a mess & causing JWo to grumble about his desire to cut it down. The next spring, we had about two days of blossoms – and they were stunning. He did some pruning, to reduce some of the overhang on the driveway, and I think we’ve arrived at a compromise. Yesterday I stood in the drive, as the wind blew soft pink petals all around me, and I felt like I was in a movie. Perhaps the lesson is that even the grouchiest of trees has the capacity to explode in beauty and loveliness.

Even though it’s not a cherry, this poem still rings true:

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now,
Is hung with bloom along the bough.
It stands along the woodland ride,
Wearing white for Eastertide.
Now of my three score years and ten,
Twenty will not come again.
Subtract from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.
And since, to look at things in bloom,
Fifty springs is little room,
Along the woodland I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.
-A.E. Housman

It’s Prom Season, and today’s paper had a whole feature on some teenage girls buying their prom dresses, and how one just HAD to splurge and spend $258 on THE dress. It got me thinking about my proms, and how my junior year prom subsisted of me in a borrowed, ill-fitting mauve satin number, and a bunch of “us girls” went together. I still have resentments towards my mother for making me borrow a dress, though she made up for it the following year. Senior year, I had a boyfriend, a real-live boyfriend, and a pale blue cocktail dress that had georgette layers on the bottom. My mother’s rationalization for letting me get that dress was that I could wear it again. Uh, yeah. For all those cocktail parties I attended in college – mm hmm! Nothing says dorm party like wearing pale blue georgette and pounding shots of rum. Anyway, I barely got to go to prom that year because I had a raging fever and quite honestly, I hardly remember either of the events – dancing, food, it’s just a blur.

But what I do remember is my junior year, day of the prom. The juniors put the prom on for the seniors. As class president, I got to basically steer the whole damn thing just how I wanted it to be. A party planner at an early age, I was, and still enjoy it – party planning, and being a control freak. So we had the theme, because you HAD to have a theme, based on a song, and ours was “We’re in Heaven”, by Bryan Adams. I spent hours looking through the big giant catalogs for things we could actually afford for decorations. We ended up doing silver & blue for the colors, and (also, crafty at an early age), we taped silver glittery stars together to form a triangle, with this white floaty cloud-like stuff coming out of the center. We had to build those at the country club, and of course, there was oodles of crepe paper and balloons, and all your standard prom crap. We had a rag-tag team of people bustling to get this party set up, and then still get home in time to PREPARE. However, one of the helpers was Peggy, you might recall her name from the Snow Queen post. Destined to be the next year’s Homecoming Queen, deemed the prettiest girl in our class, etc., etc., she was pitching in (before her own elaborate prom preparations) to help get the decorations up. She decided to stop doing crepe paper and help with the stars/cloud puffs. Within minutes, she was oooing and ahhhing over how soft the cloud puff stuff was. I can still see her, late afternoon sunlight streaming in, as she said, “This stuff is SO SOFT!” and she rubbed it up and down her bare arms.

Ah, yes, the joy of products made from FIBERGLASS. Oh, did I say fiberglass?

FIBERGLASS.

Yes. Yes it was. Our cloud puffin’ stuffin’ was essentially a very fine grade of fiberglass. I just stood there and watched her do it, & didn’t say a WORD. Because I may not have ever been in the running for prettiest girl at school? But I was one of the smart ones. And, apparently, one of the bitchy ones. After all, her date was a senior. Why not have some irritated skin for your big prom night?

Within ten minutes she had bumps everywhere she’d rubbed the fiberglass, including HER FACE. And she commenced with the freaking out.

I’m so going to hell, because it still makes me laugh.

Are you trying to hide from me? 

This would be the “Lightning Set Hunting Blind” from Cabela’s, which proudly proclaims to be a hunting blind you can set up in 10 seconds, because of its “innovative Lightening Hub”. Apparently they have not done indoor time trials for their marketing statements. James decided last night to open his up IN THE LIVING ROOM, and because – oh gosh, we have FURNITURE and things you don’t want to knock over, it took a bit longer, and he kept getting inside it & putting his arms through the windows, so he looked like a Hunting Blind Mascot. Coming to a ballpark near you.

I know, I know. I’ll love to eat the wild turkey he gets because of this purchase. But still. Just so you understand the SIZE of this thing? Interior height: 63″, Size: 84″ x 98″. Too big.

I don’t know if you watch this show? But I do. I am wayyyyyy too into it. I am FREAKING out. Because the poor dude (the one who was stressed out & went camping with his wife? ) THAT poor dude, who found the “football”? The thingy with ALL THE NUCLEAR REACTOR CODES? He is having the exact same luck I would, what with Marwan and his Evil Terrorist Goons coming after him, no matter where he runs. I am about to hyperventilate. Ah no. They’re getting shot at. My heart! The whole idea of being hunted just does not sit well with me. (Like I’m sure it does with you.)

James would sooooo be making fun of me right now. So so much fun. I wouldn’t even be able to laugh because my throat is so tight. OH great. Jack just lost his helper dude. He is under fire. This is not good.

Here’s an odd thing (at least in perspective of the past couple years):
It’s Monday morning, and I don’t feel like I’m wearing boots made of concrete!

The Weekend Retrospective: James took my car on Saturday to his waterfowler’s meeting, so I was depending on the kindness of strangers (well, ok, my best friend Shelley, who was up for an adventure)…. we went to the first big yarn sale at the Yarn Shop, which was VERY crowded (yes it was Chelle! and I’m a li’l claustrophobic too!) and there were bran’ new knittahs there, because one of them started asking my friend Shelley for advice and she tossed her right over to me. Poor thing was looking at one of THE most complicated patterns I’d ever seen, in hopes of making a sleeveless top for her daughter. We looked at some yarn together & I extolled my personal prejudices against 100% cotton, especially for a new knitter. (I’m such a hatah.) Anyway, I did manage to make some purchases, choosing the “cash/checks” line which was infinitely shorter.

I got two skeins of Lorna’s Laces pink/purple shepherd sock yarn, a skein of black sock yarn, two skeins of jaggerspun Zephyr silk/wool in Ruby, and one skein of ALP, which looks a little like novelty upchuck – it’s definitely a competitor to Wild Stuff/Cool Stuff, with loads of different yarns that change as you go! I got the ruby-red color scheme, it will make a very loud, fun scarf. And a couple things of stitch markers and a 47″ Addi – in a 0. Shelley observed that all the yarn I bought matched my red seatbelt bag purse. I musta been in a very red place.

However, that changed by the time we got to Nailcessities, because the next thing on our agenda was a mani/pedi, and I have pink chiclet fingernails & hot pink toes. It was awesome – they even will give you complimentary soft drinks &/or wine! Seein’ as how it was 10:30 in the morning, we passed on the vino. But all their pedicure chairs are shiatsu massage chairs, too, so I had a field day (and probably looked like an utter goofball.) Definitely going back. Then, Starbucks and Target – as I told James, the only thing missing from Saturday was THAI FOOD to make my day a banner day! Dammit Jen, we didn’t get that worked in. Yesterday we tried, but Thai 2000’s gas wasn’t working so we ended up at Ted Turner’s Montana Grill up by Cabela’s/NE Furniture Mart – where, for the first time in my life, I had to send my bison burger back TWICE because it kept coming out rare, and I can only do medium on ground anything. Wet raw meat does not make a Jen happy. To their credit, the restaurant staff was AWESOME about it, our waitress completely agreed that I was not being unreasonable, even though I was feeling a little nuts on the second try, and the cook even waited by the table on the 3rd burger to be sure it was done – and they took it off our bill. So we were pleased with the food, overall, and they didn’t even come near the Customer Service Hot Button gnome.

Well, we have this craaazy Monday morning status meeting & I thought I’d make it even better by bringing Lamar’s (because Lamar’s donuts have the power to turn even a funeral into a party)….so I best get ready and be ON TIME, again with that foreign, foreign concept. I would NEVER be a good schoolteacher. Plus wanting to put shock collars on the kiddos probably wouldn’t go over well, either. And the yardstick I’d be whackin’ on desks. And the megaphone. I love me a megaphone.

You can shop, you can buuuuuy, having the time of your life (oooo oooo oooo)
Techno-girl, has everything, Jen is the gadget queen…….

But I don’t have everything, I DON’T! I want an Oompa Loompa NOOOOOW. I am going to have to start stomping my foot. It fits my personality far too well, and I do often put my hands on my hips.

I love gadgets. Technology. Gizmos. Jump Drives. Digital anythings. Plasma TVs. iPods. I do not OWN a plamsa tv, iPod, high-end digital camera, or even a phone that takes pictures. I will be upgrading from my Clie’ organizer because my software will not integrate with the newer Office at my job, and I CAN’T give up my Clie’ lifestyle, plus I can justify upgrading anything after two years. Let me tell you, I can still drive better than everyone else, even when I’m looking up a number in my Clie’ to dial on my cell phone, all on the highway. Mmmhmmm. Fear me now or slap me lay-tah. (Seriously, I only do that like, twice a year. Honest.) But if I could, I would have every single high-end technological advancement known to humankind. A roombah would vacuum our floors, while the mowbah or whatever it’s mowing equivalent is called, would mow our lawn. Everything would have Bluetooth technology, despite my only vague understanding of it, however, it seems important to wireless things, and of course, everything would be wireless. We’d have laptops downstairs, and I’d also have that damned under-counter radio/cd player/television screen gizmo that costs $400. Because I NEEDS to watch TV while I prepare a meal. MMhhmm! And we’d have more DVR boxes around the house, for convenience & ability to tape, tape, tape – more, more, more. And a tempurpedic adjustable mattress. And a MiniCooper, even though I really doubt I’ve even fit into one. They’re just so damned CUTE.

I love my jump drive. I feel very spy-like with it, because it’s tiny & plugs in to any computer and can hold volumes of documents. Of course, I only have the 128 meg, and there’s one that’s all 564 or something, like more than some computers, so much memory. There’s just always another level of inspiration out there. JWo thinks it’s unnecessary and borderline insane, but I come by it fair & square – after all, my father loves the gadgets as much as the next bloke, and he always insisted on the best gadgets for himself.

MMMMM. gadgets. technology. oompa loompas. my friends.

We like to say “Dammit James” and “Dammit Jen” around our house, usually about ourselves, but often to chime in as support (really!) when something’s fouled up or gone awry. Though sometimes, a true “Dammit JAMES!” is warranted.

The other night, the same James in question insisted on going to a certain website with a whole little soundtrack, and his speakers were on FULL BLAST. I, being a very busy person this week, was trying to finish a project for a friend of mine and was WORKING diligently and did not welcome the extremely annoying interruption. This is behavior I deem “Fifth Grade Mode”, when he not only does it once, and gets a negative reaction, but then continues to do it to get my goat.

What really blows is that the sound on this little cartoon film is an EARWORM from hell. You can check it out here if you have speakers and a brave spirit. Because two nights ago, I found myself going BACK to the website just to get my earworm fix. It’s insane. I don’t understand it, it makes no sense, and yet – yet – yet? It’s kinda funny. If you’re not trying to do real work. And that’s what Fridays are ALL ABOUT. So Dammit Jen, I just gave y’all distraction and mayhem. Enjoy.

When I went to college, I had many, many campus jobs. The first one was foodservice, and I still remember that first day. I still remember what was served, too: chili, grilled cheese & french fries. My best friend, Rebs, and I worked TBD. Tray Break Down. The nittiest-grittiest job, because it meant taking all the dishes, emptying them & stacking them for the dishwasher. Rebs & I had never done anything like this before, and so we emptied and emptied and emptied and then at the end of our shift, the supervisor told us to empty the garbage can. Uh. Hm. OK. It’s like, 50 gallons? and it’s FULL? We had to do it. I still remember her face. Trying not to laugh, shaking her head, as we wrestled this enormous bag of chili and french fries and napkins out of the trash can and out to the garbage. Good god. It was a bitch. Apparently you’re supposed to empty it when it’s only a THIRD full. Ah! Yes! Grasshopper learn quickly! I have so many funny work stories, I could do ten entries just on food service. Like how I was raised in a house that never, ever saw a frozen waffle, so on Sunday brunch when they told me it was my job to make the waffles, I completely flipped out, on the inside, and bravely said, “Ok. Where’s the waffle iron?” Because I’d only ever had batter-made, waffle-iron toasted waffles in my entire life. So feeding half the campus – 600 students – waffles I was gonna have to make by hand – well, you can see why I got a little stressed. Lo and behold, they had this giant rotating toaster and you could load that sucker with 15 waffles faster than you could make one at home. Whew!
So there’s a whole mother lode of funny stories, just in my college jobs. But I was reading Bekah’s blog, and she was referencing smart-alecky kids and how to deal with them, and I remembered one of my MOST favorite college job stories.

I worked in the library. Yes, Zee Loudest Girl In Zee Vorld, spent two years workin’ in the library. We had some goooooood times at the ol’ library, I must say. Then there was the librarian who became obsessed with me and got rather stalker-ish, but hey, every rose has its thorns, hm? I digress. So I also stayed on campus and worked summers, the first summer being between sophomore & junior year, in the library. And because there weren’t many students around, the town kids would ride their bikes on all the sidewalks on campus, and they loved the big ramp up to the front entrance of the library. They also enjoyed opening the book drop, sticking their heads up next to it and SCREAMING, YODELING, and otherwise being a royal nuisance. I still remember my supervisor Sheri going out and yelling at them as they pedalled off on their bikes, whooping with their succesful escapade.

And then, one brilliant, bright summer day, it all came to a screeching halt.
Because, I was back by the book drop when they pedalled up, and they did their little schtick of opening the book drop, pushing their arms through (waving their little 10-year-old hands) and SCREAMING at the top of their lungs. That very same SCREAMING that came to a vacuum-esque halt as I reached down and GRABBED their little wrists, keeping them trapped up against the outside of the building. In my deepest, sternest voice, I BOOMED, “KNOCK IT OFF.” And then the air rushed back into their lungs, and they started a high-pitched, panicked squeal, sure that I stood there with a giant rusty machete, each about to lose an arm at the hands of the black-hooded executioner/librarian. I let go, but I’d had them trapped for about 45 seconds. When I walked around to the front door, I saw them tearing off, never to return.

Sheri & I had one of those makes-your-body-weak laughs. She was such a great boss. I suppose now, we couldn’t do something like that, for fear of a lawsuit or the outraged parent, berating us for the audacity to reprimand/touch a child that wasn’t your own. But at the time, I could freely scare the living bejeezus out of 10 year olds, much to my own amusement. And, hopefully, now yours!

Over the weekend, I was in a cold-induced stupor. Today is the first FIRST day I have not felt like I have a cold. (Let me tell you, starting a new job with a head cold is a challenging thing to do!)
So we use an e-collar on the dogs to reinforce good behavior. What that means is, if you are Polly, and I call you to come HERE, and you choose to ignore me, I press a button and you can make the discomfort stop by DOING WHAT I TOLD YOU TO DO. It’s a good thing these aren’t licensed for use in the workplace. Anyway. You have to take the remote and press its little sensor node to the recessed sensor spot on the collar to activate them. I usually then hit the “page” button, which doesn’t actually send a shock, it just vibrates it, like a pager buzzes. That way I know there’s enough juice to send a message – if I have to.
Like I said in a way-earlier blog, we usually have this thing set on “20” (out of 100) and James & I even put it on our hands to feel it so we knew what it was like. It reminds me of getting a very muted electrical shock, like from a lamp I had as a kid that the wiring was going out on – just enough to feel weird, not enough to make you go WHOA.
You see where this is going, don’t you, dear reader?

The e-collar was on the counter in the bathroom. I had just woken up from a dead-to-the-world-I’m-sick Four Hour Nap. I picked it up, activated it, and then tested it to see if was juiced. Uh yeah. Instead of hitting PAGE, I hit the SHOCK button, and immediately flung the collar across the counter. I am surprised I didn’t break the mirror. I exchanged a very shocked look with myself in the mirror. Loads of wide-eyed blinking. Astonishment, really. I didn’t understand what I’d done for a couple of seconds. It hit me, of course, I’d hit the wrong button, and then, I looked at the remote and saw that the level? It had gotten bumped to 40. My hand tingled for probably 10 minutes afterwards! The funny thing is, on “20”, Polly responds, but if she wants to race after a cat or a bunny, we have to move it up to “30-40”. Suzy, on the other hand, caterwauls at “20” as though she is slowly being killed with acupuncture needles and lemon juice. It’s only happened once, in a hunting situation, and I guess it was a sight to behold – especially since she is such a toughie and can be SO STUBBORN, like when I’m dragging her by the collar, which can’t be comfortable, and I’ve even swatted her butt – which I can tell you now, FROM EXPERIENCE, is nothing like the pain of the e-collar.

Especially on “40”.

True Confession. I am a child of the 80’s, and therefore, I DO love soft rock the way YOU love soft rock, just like the commercial said. Not enough to ever listen to for an hour, but when a good fist-clenchin’ ballad comes along (not Michael Bolton), like “Here and Now”, by Luther Vandross? I get all soft-serve inside.

I’m totally diggin’ the digital cable channel “VH1 Classic”, despite my resistance to being labeled “Classic”. I’m sure I’ll really enjoy labels when Duran Duran is played under the header “Music of Our Lives” ….. sheesh……

OK, and what’s up with Eric Roberts in both the Killer’s video & the new Mariah Carey video? I thought I was going crazy when I spied him in the second one…. Eric Roberts is IN my TV and stalking me. Alert the dogs! BURF!

New Job Update: Going well, the people are awesome, but of course it’s a bit overwhelming at first. There’s loads of stuff to do, and there’s a huge need to get some structure & systems going. I just need to remind myself I can’t do it all in one day. :) One day down, 364 to go, right? :) And I’m trying to actually be on time for this job so that means I should skedaddle & get dressed…….I need a chauffeur, so I can do stuff on my drive! I knew there was something I forgot to negotiate…..