My phone alarm rang: luch with Christ.
Yeah, that was really supposed to read "Lunch with Christa." Someone must have been in a hurry.
Yet that someone can't help but laugh at the irony. "Luchar" is a Spanish verb which means "to fight." While "Luch" isn't actually a word, it's similar enough.
Fight with Christ: 12:10.
As much as I hate to admit it, I fight with Christ. And it's more than just at 12:10.
<>< Katie
In other news, Happy Reformation Day!
And Happy Deep-Breath Day... NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow and I'm participating for the first time. The idea is that you write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November. So, I apologize if I'm more sparse on your dashboard, but "every word on your blog is one less word in your novel" (I forget who said that, but it wasn't me).
Also, I'm thinking about making some changes on my blog in the future, and I would love to hear your feedback. What do you want to see more of? Less of? What haven't I done that you'd like to see? What do you never want to see again? You can post your feedback in the comments or email me at KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com. I promise, I won't hate you for being honest (at least not forever).
Showing posts with label fight. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fight. Show all posts
Monday, October 31, 2011
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Clean Up on Aisle Twelve
I'm thinking about updating my blogger profile to read, "My name is Katie, and I single-handedly keep security camera men from falling asleep on the job."
It was the summer after I graduated high school. Mom and I had gone to Bed, Bath, and Beyond to pick up some stuff for my dorm room. Among those items, plastic crates. You know, the ones that serve almost no purpose in real life and shouldn't be found anywhere but in a dorm room. I had three homemade wooden boxes (that leave purple and turquoise paint everywhere they sit) and opted to buy two plastic ones, too. They were in a cute display in the breezeway between the two front doors of the store. I grabbed two, and we kept shopping.
While we were checking out, Mom and I noticed the plastic crates we'd grabbed were less than perfect. I took them out the door (no, the alarm didn't go off) and went to exchange them. I set my two crates on the display and began searching for unbroken ones. Since this was in the entryway, the automatic door opened and closed every time I moved. Kind of annoying, but not really a big deal except for the fact that one of the crates had been displaced. When the door opened, it caught the corner of the crate. When it closed, it pushed the crate further out of place. Of course, that one misbehaving crate hit the other crates in the display. Since I kept moving, the door kept opening and closing, and the crates kept flying all over the entryway. The entire display tumbled onto the floor creating a fire hazard and almost hitting me in the face.
I wasn't really sure what to do. I couldn't stop the display from toppling over just like I couldn't stop the door from opening. I stood there with my arms in the air, triggering the motion sensor yet again.
I looked through the window to my mom and the cashier, both of whom had stopped what they were doing to search out the cause of this racket. "And we're letting her go to school 900 miles away," I heard Mom say.
I lost a war with a plastic crate display. A few war wounds, but I lived to tell the tale. It has been three years and I have still not shown my face in that Bed, Bath, and Beyond again.
<>< Katie
It was the summer after I graduated high school. Mom and I had gone to Bed, Bath, and Beyond to pick up some stuff for my dorm room. Among those items, plastic crates. You know, the ones that serve almost no purpose in real life and shouldn't be found anywhere but in a dorm room. I had three homemade wooden boxes (that leave purple and turquoise paint everywhere they sit) and opted to buy two plastic ones, too. They were in a cute display in the breezeway between the two front doors of the store. I grabbed two, and we kept shopping.
While we were checking out, Mom and I noticed the plastic crates we'd grabbed were less than perfect. I took them out the door (no, the alarm didn't go off) and went to exchange them. I set my two crates on the display and began searching for unbroken ones. Since this was in the entryway, the automatic door opened and closed every time I moved. Kind of annoying, but not really a big deal except for the fact that one of the crates had been displaced. When the door opened, it caught the corner of the crate. When it closed, it pushed the crate further out of place. Of course, that one misbehaving crate hit the other crates in the display. Since I kept moving, the door kept opening and closing, and the crates kept flying all over the entryway. The entire display tumbled onto the floor creating a fire hazard and almost hitting me in the face.
I wasn't really sure what to do. I couldn't stop the display from toppling over just like I couldn't stop the door from opening. I stood there with my arms in the air, triggering the motion sensor yet again.
I looked through the window to my mom and the cashier, both of whom had stopped what they were doing to search out the cause of this racket. "And we're letting her go to school 900 miles away," I heard Mom say.
I lost a war with a plastic crate display. A few war wounds, but I lived to tell the tale. It has been three years and I have still not shown my face in that Bed, Bath, and Beyond again.
<>< Katie
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Buckle Up... It's the Law
Sometimes I feel like our trips in the car should be a blog saga. Might I add, that the longest travel time is twenty minutes and the shortest is three. It's usually the same people, so this could be like a column in a newspaper but really it's a blog.
They all start in the same way: Elizabeth and me fighting over shot gun. Sometimes I win; sometimes she wins. Either way it's a physical struggle between the two of us. We're both the oldest of three girls so we know how to fight and don't always fight fair. Hair pulling is not out of the question.
On Tuesday, Elizabeth won, so Amy and I sat in the back. Once seats are assigned and we all crawl in the second fight beings: to wear a seat belt or not to wear a seat belt, that is the question.
"Are you wearing your seat belts?" Andy asks every time. For the record, my seat belt is always on. It's Amy and Elizabeth that he has to worry about. They have been known to unbuckle each other so they can honestly answer "no" when he asks "Did you just unbuckle your seat belt?" He still pulled over and refused to go again until their seat belts were on correctly.
"I'll put my seat belt on if Katie takes hers off," Amy argued. I took my seat belt off. She put hers on. I put mine on. She took hers off. "And keeps it off!" That wasn't part of the deal.
"No, no, no the law says everyone in the vehicle must have their seat belts on at all times," Andy argued.
"Andy, do you plan on crashing?" Elizabeth asked.
"I don't think anyone plans on crashing. I think that's why it's called an accident," I suggested.
"But, really, Andy, you're a safe driver; he drives ambulances. We'll be ok."
"Put your seat belt on anyway," he argued.
"No! I've got a great Mom Arm. If we crash I'll just use my Mom Arm to save myself," Elizabeth suggested.
"You can't Mom Arm yourself. That just doesn't work!" Andy argued.
"Fine the I'll Mom Arm you and your seat belt will save us both."
For some reason I don't think that's going to work either.
"I'll put my seat belt on if Amy puts on her seat belt," Elizabeth started.
"I'll put on my seat belt if Elizabeth puts on her seat belt," Amy countered.
"Ok, on the count of three the two of you are going to simultaneously put on your seat belts... One... two... three!" Failure.
"If you don't put your seat belt on Katie's going to hold your shoulders, and I'm sure her hands are cold," Andy told Elizabeth.
Ten minutes after we got in the car both girls put on their respective seat belts which remained on for the duration of our three minute venture. Although it is always a concern. If he hadn't been driving stick shift I think he would have held Elizabeth's hands in his to prevent her from removing her seat belt.
While we were driving we created a what-if scenario regarding the importance of seat belts. My own accident story apparently isn't good enough for them.
"What if a deer jumps out in the middle of the road, I hit it, and you go flying through the windshield because you weren't wearing your seat belt and your Mom Arm failed. Then you crack your head open on the road and blood is spewing everywhere!" Andy started our hypothetical.
"You're trained to handle that," she said mocking Andy's EMS training; this has become one of our favorite lines (third favorite to be exact. The first two are "That's what she said" and "-er? You barely know her!").
"What if the airbag pushed me backwards while seat belt-less Amy is pushed forward behind me so we clunk heads and both pass out. Now you're still bleeding to death in the middle of the street," Andy continued.
"Katie, will you call 9-1-1 before you go crazy and start sanitizing everything?" Elizabeth asked me.
"I can't. My cell phone was in the bag you chucked into the elevator a half hour ago. Sorry," I said.
I was still sitting helplessly in the back seat, seatbelt fastened and hand sanitizer ready, as my friends struggled for consciousness when our hypothetical came to an abrupt hault. It was not by choice, however. You see at that very moment we learned the meaning of the word "irony." From the woods on our left jumped a deer. There was a mix of laughter and shock in the car as the deer disappeared into the woods across the stree.
No, Andy didn't hit it and our bizarre scenario didn't come to fruition, but I think Elizabeth and Amy will wear their seat belts next time we all go for a joy ride in Charlie.
And to think this post was going to be "Why I Wear a Helmet"... That'll be next week. :-)
Buckle up for safety, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah,
<>< Katie
They all start in the same way: Elizabeth and me fighting over shot gun. Sometimes I win; sometimes she wins. Either way it's a physical struggle between the two of us. We're both the oldest of three girls so we know how to fight and don't always fight fair. Hair pulling is not out of the question.
On Tuesday, Elizabeth won, so Amy and I sat in the back. Once seats are assigned and we all crawl in the second fight beings: to wear a seat belt or not to wear a seat belt, that is the question.
"Are you wearing your seat belts?" Andy asks every time. For the record, my seat belt is always on. It's Amy and Elizabeth that he has to worry about. They have been known to unbuckle each other so they can honestly answer "no" when he asks "Did you just unbuckle your seat belt?" He still pulled over and refused to go again until their seat belts were on correctly.
"I'll put my seat belt on if Katie takes hers off," Amy argued. I took my seat belt off. She put hers on. I put mine on. She took hers off. "And keeps it off!" That wasn't part of the deal.
"No, no, no the law says everyone in the vehicle must have their seat belts on at all times," Andy argued.
"Andy, do you plan on crashing?" Elizabeth asked.
"I don't think anyone plans on crashing. I think that's why it's called an accident," I suggested.
"But, really, Andy, you're a safe driver; he drives ambulances. We'll be ok."
"Put your seat belt on anyway," he argued.
"No! I've got a great Mom Arm. If we crash I'll just use my Mom Arm to save myself," Elizabeth suggested.
"You can't Mom Arm yourself. That just doesn't work!" Andy argued.
"Fine the I'll Mom Arm you and your seat belt will save us both."
For some reason I don't think that's going to work either.
"I'll put my seat belt on if Amy puts on her seat belt," Elizabeth started.
"I'll put on my seat belt if Elizabeth puts on her seat belt," Amy countered.
"Ok, on the count of three the two of you are going to simultaneously put on your seat belts... One... two... three!" Failure.
"If you don't put your seat belt on Katie's going to hold your shoulders, and I'm sure her hands are cold," Andy told Elizabeth.
Ten minutes after we got in the car both girls put on their respective seat belts which remained on for the duration of our three minute venture. Although it is always a concern. If he hadn't been driving stick shift I think he would have held Elizabeth's hands in his to prevent her from removing her seat belt.
While we were driving we created a what-if scenario regarding the importance of seat belts. My own accident story apparently isn't good enough for them.
"What if a deer jumps out in the middle of the road, I hit it, and you go flying through the windshield because you weren't wearing your seat belt and your Mom Arm failed. Then you crack your head open on the road and blood is spewing everywhere!" Andy started our hypothetical.
"You're trained to handle that," she said mocking Andy's EMS training; this has become one of our favorite lines (third favorite to be exact. The first two are "That's what she said" and "-er? You barely know her!").
"What if the airbag pushed me backwards while seat belt-less Amy is pushed forward behind me so we clunk heads and both pass out. Now you're still bleeding to death in the middle of the street," Andy continued.
"Katie, will you call 9-1-1 before you go crazy and start sanitizing everything?" Elizabeth asked me.
"I can't. My cell phone was in the bag you chucked into the elevator a half hour ago. Sorry," I said.
I was still sitting helplessly in the back seat, seatbelt fastened and hand sanitizer ready, as my friends struggled for consciousness when our hypothetical came to an abrupt hault. It was not by choice, however. You see at that very moment we learned the meaning of the word "irony." From the woods on our left jumped a deer. There was a mix of laughter and shock in the car as the deer disappeared into the woods across the stree.
No, Andy didn't hit it and our bizarre scenario didn't come to fruition, but I think Elizabeth and Amy will wear their seat belts next time we all go for a joy ride in Charlie.
And to think this post was going to be "Why I Wear a Helmet"... That'll be next week. :-)
Buckle up for safety, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah,
<>< Katie
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