Today words are not my friends. They've been really mean to me lately. They're tripping over each other as they fall from my mouth. They clog like an ink blot as they're scratched from my pen. They hate me. And I hate it.
When technology and I don't get along, when my suitemates pick on me, when the world seems to be against me, I still have my word-friends to back me up. Except now.
Who am I if I cannot cooperate with the English language?
I am still a daughter of God, a friend, a roommate. I'm still a role model, a team leader, and a big sister. But I am not me. I am a writer. This is what I do. What do you do when you can't do what you do?
You blog about it. But then you remember what Sherman Alexie said, "Every word on your blog is a word not in your book." I guess I'm nostalgic for my book. I reread and tweek scenes, but it isn't the same. Sure, I still have some of the excitement about someday finishing it but that someday apparently isn't today.
I. Am. Frustrated.
<>< Katie
Monday, August 30, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Lunch with a Stranger
It was a little after 1, and I had somewhere to be at 1:30 and lunch to eat first when I flew into the caf. I got my food and had resolved myself to sit alone, something I actually enjoy doing periodically. I still don't know how I saw her since she was behind me, around the corner, and hidden by the crowd, but I did. She, too, was sitting alone. I walked up and slid my tray onto the table.
"Can I sit here?"
She had food in her mouth but nodded, and I told her I'd be right back. I dropped my bag, left my tray, and went to get my milk. I came back, sat down, prayed the Common Table Prayer, and asked her name. Marta. I recognized it from working check-in that morning. She was a transfer student; it was her first day on campus. I asked how it was going.
As she talked, slowly the tears welled in her eyes. They matched the ones I had been sporting earlier. Sometime between my golf-cart ride to McDonalds with Megan after check-in and this lunch, I discovered the job I had last year was no longer available to me. It was a complicated situation, and I was the victim of the system. I was confused. Upset. Frustrated. Livid. I cried. I called my dad. I cried again. I had a plan: talk to my boss, but I couldn't do that until I knew I was not going to melt in his office.
With a compassionate smile, I asked Marta how many times she had gotten lost that day. Lots. She'd lost her map. She laughed. I laughed. She cried. I cared. By the end of lunch, I had gotten her two new maps. Each had her apartment building circled, the building where her nursing classes would be circled, and a big huge "F" over the building where the food was. What more does a person need, right? I walked her to where she needed to go, and we said goodbye.
I visited my favorite coffee shop to email my hippy boss. My internet's still spotty. "We have a problem," the email said. "When are you going to be in your office?"
Almost instantly he responded, "I'm here now; come on over."
I did. When I walked in, he asked how I was. I said I was cranky. He didn't understand: worms were burrowing and he'd just gotten his iTouch to work after two years; how could I be cranky? Then I told him what happened to my job. He became distressed and no longer cared about the worms. He called his boss who called her boss who promised to work on the mess for me. The hippy told me it was just a matter of faith that the situation would work itself out. It was weird.
At dinner, I saw Marta again. I asked if the rest of her day had improved. She said it had. She even had a new friend! I was so excited for her I "woooh-who-ed" right there in the middle of the caf. I had intended to sit with them, but we got separated in the mob.
It's been four days since I've seen Marta. My job situation has been rectified. My boss's boss's boss, who has a big important title, made some phone calls, got me my job back, and earned himself a hand-written thank you card. I can only hope Marta has memorized her maps, made more than one friend, and is enjoying herself.
I think we both needed each other at that lunch. It was a simple exchange, a breach of the comfort zone, and a world gained. God's way to remind us that He is Jehovah-Jirah, the Lord provider.
<>< Katie
"Can I sit here?"
She had food in her mouth but nodded, and I told her I'd be right back. I dropped my bag, left my tray, and went to get my milk. I came back, sat down, prayed the Common Table Prayer, and asked her name. Marta. I recognized it from working check-in that morning. She was a transfer student; it was her first day on campus. I asked how it was going.
As she talked, slowly the tears welled in her eyes. They matched the ones I had been sporting earlier. Sometime between my golf-cart ride to McDonalds with Megan after check-in and this lunch, I discovered the job I had last year was no longer available to me. It was a complicated situation, and I was the victim of the system. I was confused. Upset. Frustrated. Livid. I cried. I called my dad. I cried again. I had a plan: talk to my boss, but I couldn't do that until I knew I was not going to melt in his office.
With a compassionate smile, I asked Marta how many times she had gotten lost that day. Lots. She'd lost her map. She laughed. I laughed. She cried. I cared. By the end of lunch, I had gotten her two new maps. Each had her apartment building circled, the building where her nursing classes would be circled, and a big huge "F" over the building where the food was. What more does a person need, right? I walked her to where she needed to go, and we said goodbye.
I visited my favorite coffee shop to email my hippy boss. My internet's still spotty. "We have a problem," the email said. "When are you going to be in your office?"
Almost instantly he responded, "I'm here now; come on over."
I did. When I walked in, he asked how I was. I said I was cranky. He didn't understand: worms were burrowing and he'd just gotten his iTouch to work after two years; how could I be cranky? Then I told him what happened to my job. He became distressed and no longer cared about the worms. He called his boss who called her boss who promised to work on the mess for me. The hippy told me it was just a matter of faith that the situation would work itself out. It was weird.
At dinner, I saw Marta again. I asked if the rest of her day had improved. She said it had. She even had a new friend! I was so excited for her I "woooh-who-ed" right there in the middle of the caf. I had intended to sit with them, but we got separated in the mob.
It's been four days since I've seen Marta. My job situation has been rectified. My boss's boss's boss, who has a big important title, made some phone calls, got me my job back, and earned himself a hand-written thank you card. I can only hope Marta has memorized her maps, made more than one friend, and is enjoying herself.
I think we both needed each other at that lunch. It was a simple exchange, a breach of the comfort zone, and a world gained. God's way to remind us that He is Jehovah-Jirah, the Lord provider.
<>< Katie
Friday, August 27, 2010
Tales of Nikki and Katie: The Episode of the Bike (Helmet)
In my family, when you turn double-digits, you get two big presents: a mountain bike and a bedroom set. It kind of worked that way for me and my parents kept the tradition for my sisters. So, on my tenth birthday we all hopped in the van and drove to the same bike shop where my mom and grandfather got their first adult bikes. I still remember the day. This must have been before my purple phase because I came home with a maroon bike that I absolutely loved and a red helmet I tolerated. I'm now twenty-one and that same bike came to college with me.
Nikki hates to walk everywhere from our middle-of-nowhere apartment, so I offered her the use of my bike. Problem: I'm tall; Nikki's not. We tried to find a seat-height that would satisfy both of us but couldn't. Finally we realized the seat moves very easily, a brand new feature back in 1999 when I bought my bike. When Nikki wanted to ride it, she could lower the seat. When I wanted to ride my bike, I could raise it. Very simple; very easy. I told her the code to my combination lock, and we were set.
A few days later, my bike was missing from our second-story porch because Nikki took me up on my offer. Except Nikki was in the living room.
Katie: Where's my bike?
Nikki: OH MY GOSH! Katie, you have the smallest seat in the world!
Katie: I have the smallest butt in the world.
Nikki: It's in my office. I rode it to work and go so fed up with it that I got a car ride back.
This was Friday meaning my bike was locked in there over the weekend. Not really a big deal. Nikki also conveniently wore a dress for the next several days meaning she couldn't ride my bike back.
Nikki: Next time you're up near the caf, swing by my office and pick up your bike because it might stay there all semester if you don't, and we really need the space back.
Katie: Yeah, I'll remember to take my helmet with me to the caf. That's not dorky.
Last fall, I crashed on my bike. My thoughts went something like this, "Road? Sidewalk? Road? Sidewalk? Road. Crap, speed bumps. Just kidding! Sidewalk."
I learned something very important: You can't do "just kidding" on a bike. Indecisiveness leads to skinned knees
Since I've always been very safety conscious and I have a history of bike crashes, I wear a red helmet when I ride my maroon bike. I also ski with a purple helmet and have been known to Wii Bowl in my ski helmet. Yes, everyone laughs at me. I've decided I'd rather be the dork with the helmet than the dork with the broken head.
When I did finally retrieve my bike from Nikki's office, I rode it down the hallway, on the sidewalk, through the grass, across the parking lot, up the hill, through the building, and up the stairs without a helmet. It was terrifying. And liberating.
When I told my mom this story, she laughed all the way through it. When I got to the "So I rescued my bike and rode it home without a helmet" part she said she was proud of me. Huh?!
And now I face a major decision: Helmet or no helmet? That is the question.
<>< Katie
Nikki hates to walk everywhere from our middle-of-nowhere apartment, so I offered her the use of my bike. Problem: I'm tall; Nikki's not. We tried to find a seat-height that would satisfy both of us but couldn't. Finally we realized the seat moves very easily, a brand new feature back in 1999 when I bought my bike. When Nikki wanted to ride it, she could lower the seat. When I wanted to ride my bike, I could raise it. Very simple; very easy. I told her the code to my combination lock, and we were set.
A few days later, my bike was missing from our second-story porch because Nikki took me up on my offer. Except Nikki was in the living room.
Katie: Where's my bike?
Nikki: OH MY GOSH! Katie, you have the smallest seat in the world!
Katie: I have the smallest butt in the world.
Nikki: It's in my office. I rode it to work and go so fed up with it that I got a car ride back.
This was Friday meaning my bike was locked in there over the weekend. Not really a big deal. Nikki also conveniently wore a dress for the next several days meaning she couldn't ride my bike back.
Nikki: Next time you're up near the caf, swing by my office and pick up your bike because it might stay there all semester if you don't, and we really need the space back.
Katie: Yeah, I'll remember to take my helmet with me to the caf. That's not dorky.
Last fall, I crashed on my bike. My thoughts went something like this, "Road? Sidewalk? Road? Sidewalk? Road. Crap, speed bumps. Just kidding! Sidewalk."
I learned something very important: You can't do "just kidding" on a bike. Indecisiveness leads to skinned knees
Since I've always been very safety conscious and I have a history of bike crashes, I wear a red helmet when I ride my maroon bike. I also ski with a purple helmet and have been known to Wii Bowl in my ski helmet. Yes, everyone laughs at me. I've decided I'd rather be the dork with the helmet than the dork with the broken head.
When I did finally retrieve my bike from Nikki's office, I rode it down the hallway, on the sidewalk, through the grass, across the parking lot, up the hill, through the building, and up the stairs without a helmet. It was terrifying. And liberating.
When I told my mom this story, she laughed all the way through it. When I got to the "So I rescued my bike and rode it home without a helmet" part she said she was proud of me. Huh?!
And now I face a major decision: Helmet or no helmet? That is the question.
<>< Katie
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Does this match?
Even though I'm not doing anything particularly strenuous during the day, I'm ready for bed by the end of it. The other night, I trudged back to my apartment sometime between 8:30 and 9. I was ready to take a shower, put on my pajamas, and chill for the next few hours. It was going to be great.
Then I remembered the prayer walk at 10pm. I took a shower and opted against walking around campus in my pajamas because they're really classy. I put on a "better," comfy outfit instead. My only non-pajama sweatpants are bright blue, and they match literally nothing. I call them my dentist pants because they look like scrubs. I didn't want to dirty another shirt, so I pulled on a brown wife-beater tank top. Ok, not runway attire but not bad for lounging around either. Until I put on my black Chacos and red pull-over polar fleece. Except at the prayer walk it was too hot for the polar fleece, so I tied it around my waist. Oh, and my hair was still wet from the shower. Maybe my pajamas would have been a better choice.
Honestly, I didn't really care. Or at least I didn't think I did. It was dark and people could only see my silhouette. However, the further we prayer walked the more annoyed with myself I became. Why did I have to bring the polar fleece? (Oh, yeah, I'm from the north were the temperature drops dramatically at night. I forget it doesn't do that here). Why did I buy/ why do I wear the dentist pants? Maybe some other shoes would have been a better choice. Why am I so awkwardly skinny?
It was in that awful self-loathing session that I realized I am comfortable in who I am.
Huh? Let me explain.
Even though I looked like a dope, I didn't run from a social event. In fact, I made jokes about wanting to return to the 90s and the drown rat look I was sporting. I can laugh at myself. I dropped my socks in the toilet for goodness sake!
As I was thinking about this I realized that in the days and months to come girls who have worse image problems than I do are going to walk these same sidewalks. My heart broke for them. What may be a love-sass for me might be devastating for them. I began to petition to the Lord to heal their insecurities, give them comfort, and show them acceptance. Let them see that they are beautiful on the inside and out. Let them feel loved.
I've said this before and I'll say it again: tell her she's beautiful.
"You are altogether beautiful, My love; there is no flaw in you."
- Song of Solomon 4:7
I love you all,
<>< Katie
Then I remembered the prayer walk at 10pm. I took a shower and opted against walking around campus in my pajamas because they're really classy. I put on a "better," comfy outfit instead. My only non-pajama sweatpants are bright blue, and they match literally nothing. I call them my dentist pants because they look like scrubs. I didn't want to dirty another shirt, so I pulled on a brown wife-beater tank top. Ok, not runway attire but not bad for lounging around either. Until I put on my black Chacos and red pull-over polar fleece. Except at the prayer walk it was too hot for the polar fleece, so I tied it around my waist. Oh, and my hair was still wet from the shower. Maybe my pajamas would have been a better choice.
Honestly, I didn't really care. Or at least I didn't think I did. It was dark and people could only see my silhouette. However, the further we prayer walked the more annoyed with myself I became. Why did I have to bring the polar fleece? (Oh, yeah, I'm from the north were the temperature drops dramatically at night. I forget it doesn't do that here). Why did I buy/ why do I wear the dentist pants? Maybe some other shoes would have been a better choice. Why am I so awkwardly skinny?
It was in that awful self-loathing session that I realized I am comfortable in who I am.
Huh? Let me explain.
Even though I looked like a dope, I didn't run from a social event. In fact, I made jokes about wanting to return to the 90s and the drown rat look I was sporting. I can laugh at myself. I dropped my socks in the toilet for goodness sake!
As I was thinking about this I realized that in the days and months to come girls who have worse image problems than I do are going to walk these same sidewalks. My heart broke for them. What may be a love-sass for me might be devastating for them. I began to petition to the Lord to heal their insecurities, give them comfort, and show them acceptance. Let them see that they are beautiful on the inside and out. Let them feel loved.
I've said this before and I'll say it again: tell her she's beautiful.
"You are altogether beautiful, My love; there is no flaw in you."
- Song of Solomon 4:7
I love you all,
<>< Katie
Monday, August 23, 2010
Chopper One Sighting
One evening after dinner there was a knock on the door. Most people just walk into our apartment, but if someone knocks those who don't live here often answer the door. This time Nikki got it and standing outside was a middle-aged man.
Before I tell you about him, let me tell you about my apartment. We're a brand new building that is still considered to be on campus, but we're out in the boonies. A large parking lot separates us from the nearest building. My front window view is a cliff with a road at the bottom of it and woods across the street. More woods on our left, and behind us is a huge red field that will someday house more buildings but for now will be the home of our own Mud Fest.
The middle-aged men that darken our doorstep are our fathers and the maintenance men. This particular man was neither.
"I'm the father of a girl in the apartment across the hall. Do you have internet? She doesn't either. I just want to take a quick peak in the closet at your wireless hook-up."
Across the room and out of eye sight, I shot a "What the heck does he think he's doing?" look at Adam.
"We were told the internet can't be hooked up until the building is complete. Even though we're living in it the building can't be officially declared complete until the cable company comes back," Nikki explained.
"You see, that's not true," he said. "You guys can't live without internet."
If there was sarcasm in his voice, I did not hear it. He also never gave his name, but Adam said he had a school employee ID.
If I was suspicious before, I was upset now. My desire for internet was overpowered by my desire for that father to let his daughter go unplugged. It was one night for goodness sake! The rest of us had been internet-less for literally a week, and we were still alive. Gasp!
I'm glad I didn't answer the door. I might have said something like this: Sir, if you work here, check it out in the morning. Don't go around the building at night and explore the internet hook-up. Don't teach your daughter that you can fix everything instantly. She's 18 not 8! (OK, I would not have really said that, but I thought it).
Honestly, my heart broke for her. You see, I know what it's like to go to school where your parents work. For nine years I shared a building with two student-sisters, a teacher-mother, and an administrator father. It was not unusual for someone to see all five of us in one day. Even now, I go back and nobody asks me what I'm doing. They already know; Mom told them.
To the girl who I've not even met yet, I am sorry you chose a school where your parent(s) work. I've been there. I'm sorry you have a hovering Helicopter Parent. I have two. Come on over. We'll swap stories.
Dear Mr. Creepy Man/Helicopter Father, thank you for trying to fix our internet. We really do appreciate your (failed) effort. Now, it's 9pm and your daughter's first night away at school. Let her make some friends and enjoy herself without you here. It's actually better if her computer doesn't work, so she's not in front of the screen all night long. Oh, and, yes, we can live without internet.
Thank you for letting me rant. As always, thoughts welcome.
<>< Katie
Before I tell you about him, let me tell you about my apartment. We're a brand new building that is still considered to be on campus, but we're out in the boonies. A large parking lot separates us from the nearest building. My front window view is a cliff with a road at the bottom of it and woods across the street. More woods on our left, and behind us is a huge red field that will someday house more buildings but for now will be the home of our own Mud Fest.
The middle-aged men that darken our doorstep are our fathers and the maintenance men. This particular man was neither.
"I'm the father of a girl in the apartment across the hall. Do you have internet? She doesn't either. I just want to take a quick peak in the closet at your wireless hook-up."
Across the room and out of eye sight, I shot a "What the heck does he think he's doing?" look at Adam.
"We were told the internet can't be hooked up until the building is complete. Even though we're living in it the building can't be officially declared complete until the cable company comes back," Nikki explained.
"You see, that's not true," he said. "You guys can't live without internet."
If there was sarcasm in his voice, I did not hear it. He also never gave his name, but Adam said he had a school employee ID.
If I was suspicious before, I was upset now. My desire for internet was overpowered by my desire for that father to let his daughter go unplugged. It was one night for goodness sake! The rest of us had been internet-less for literally a week, and we were still alive. Gasp!
I'm glad I didn't answer the door. I might have said something like this: Sir, if you work here, check it out in the morning. Don't go around the building at night and explore the internet hook-up. Don't teach your daughter that you can fix everything instantly. She's 18 not 8! (OK, I would not have really said that, but I thought it).
Honestly, my heart broke for her. You see, I know what it's like to go to school where your parents work. For nine years I shared a building with two student-sisters, a teacher-mother, and an administrator father. It was not unusual for someone to see all five of us in one day. Even now, I go back and nobody asks me what I'm doing. They already know; Mom told them.
To the girl who I've not even met yet, I am sorry you chose a school where your parent(s) work. I've been there. I'm sorry you have a hovering Helicopter Parent. I have two. Come on over. We'll swap stories.
Dear Mr. Creepy Man/Helicopter Father, thank you for trying to fix our internet. We really do appreciate your (failed) effort. Now, it's 9pm and your daughter's first night away at school. Let her make some friends and enjoy herself without you here. It's actually better if her computer doesn't work, so she's not in front of the screen all night long. Oh, and, yes, we can live without internet.
Thank you for letting me rant. As always, thoughts welcome.
<>< Katie
Saturday, August 21, 2010
The Gang's All Here
Well, summer is over. Even though classes don't start for another few days, I'm back at school. Most students aren't back yet, but all six of the girls in my apartment are back. (Jennifer, Nikki, Allyson, Amy, and Elizabeth) Despite our hectic pre-semester schedules, it's been great to be back together playing Banangrams, being sassed, Wii-ing, being sassed, cuddling, being sassed...
Oh, and the light switches have been fixed. Allelulia! No more being blinded because you, heaven forbid, rolled over in the middle of the night. Now if you sit still for fifteen minutes, which I can do thank you very much, the light goes off. Of the two, I prefer this (I think).
Another glitch in our brand new building is the lack of intenet. Since school is not in session, the computer lab are not open, so I have to butter up to a professor, yes, before school even starts, to check my email. I can survive without internet. Facebook can wait. Email's important, but anyone emailing me urgently right now will accept the "My internet's not connected yet" excuse. The blog, sorry friends, can survive a few days without me. Books, however, need to be ordered. At the beginning of last semester I talked about how I like brand new books and don't mind paying bookstore prices to not have to worry about the hassle. I stand by those opinions. However, this semester my schedule includes a stinky science class with a text book that costs almost a million dollars. A book I'm never going to use again and will not be able to sell. So I Amazoned it. (I just made "Amazon" a verb... it's English). Since I had to order that one online, there were a few others I ordered, too. Well, intended to order. The lack of internet put an impasse on my plan. I'm not making an online purchase from a public computer, sorry.
Periodically, I can get internet when sitting in a certain position on my roommate Jennifer's bed. Ever seen someone putting cell phone in the most bizarre of positions in order to get a signal? Yes, that's me with my computer. When I get Jennifer's Bed internet it's for about ten minutes and that's it for the entire day. This morning, I was starting to get cranky about the situation and stressed about the upcoming semester.
I only had a half hour, so I booted up my computer, plopped it on Jennifer's bed, and began to rant. "God, I can live without internet. I proved that several times this summer and again this week. However, I'm really starting to worry about this upcoming semester. If I could just order my books I'd feel a lot better." I checked my AOL email since it's my internet provider (since 1997!) but before I checked my school email and gmail, before I checked facebook, before I checked the blog (gasp!) I went to Amazon.
Finding the books was quick and easy. Checking out, no problem. I got decent deals and saved a lot of money. Life was good. I hit "Submit this purchase." It went. PAH! I closed amazon and typed "katieax.blogspot.com" into the navigation bar.
"Internet Explorer cannot display the page."
I was moderately annoyed and simultaneously moderately amused. I said I wanted internet to order books. I got internet to order books. I could not help but say, "Thank You, God." The blog. Facebook. Email. All were unnecessary distractions.
Twelve hours later, I'm using some friends for their internet to update my social media outlets, not for work. Life is good.
<>< Katie
Reason of the Day to Laugh at Katie:
I dropped my socks in the toilet. No, they weren't on my feet. Yes, the toilet was empty.
Oh, and the light switches have been fixed. Allelulia! No more being blinded because you, heaven forbid, rolled over in the middle of the night. Now if you sit still for fifteen minutes, which I can do thank you very much, the light goes off. Of the two, I prefer this (I think).
Another glitch in our brand new building is the lack of intenet. Since school is not in session, the computer lab are not open, so I have to butter up to a professor, yes, before school even starts, to check my email. I can survive without internet. Facebook can wait. Email's important, but anyone emailing me urgently right now will accept the "My internet's not connected yet" excuse. The blog, sorry friends, can survive a few days without me. Books, however, need to be ordered. At the beginning of last semester I talked about how I like brand new books and don't mind paying bookstore prices to not have to worry about the hassle. I stand by those opinions. However, this semester my schedule includes a stinky science class with a text book that costs almost a million dollars. A book I'm never going to use again and will not be able to sell. So I Amazoned it. (I just made "Amazon" a verb... it's English). Since I had to order that one online, there were a few others I ordered, too. Well, intended to order. The lack of internet put an impasse on my plan. I'm not making an online purchase from a public computer, sorry.
Periodically, I can get internet when sitting in a certain position on my roommate Jennifer's bed. Ever seen someone putting cell phone in the most bizarre of positions in order to get a signal? Yes, that's me with my computer. When I get Jennifer's Bed internet it's for about ten minutes and that's it for the entire day. This morning, I was starting to get cranky about the situation and stressed about the upcoming semester.
I only had a half hour, so I booted up my computer, plopped it on Jennifer's bed, and began to rant. "God, I can live without internet. I proved that several times this summer and again this week. However, I'm really starting to worry about this upcoming semester. If I could just order my books I'd feel a lot better." I checked my AOL email since it's my internet provider (since 1997!) but before I checked my school email and gmail, before I checked facebook, before I checked the blog (gasp!) I went to Amazon.
Finding the books was quick and easy. Checking out, no problem. I got decent deals and saved a lot of money. Life was good. I hit "Submit this purchase." It went. PAH! I closed amazon and typed "katieax.blogspot.com" into the navigation bar.
"Internet Explorer cannot display the page."
I was moderately annoyed and simultaneously moderately amused. I said I wanted internet to order books. I got internet to order books. I could not help but say, "Thank You, God." The blog. Facebook. Email. All were unnecessary distractions.
Twelve hours later, I'm using some friends for their internet to update my social media outlets, not for work. Life is good.
<>< Katie
Reason of the Day to Laugh at Katie:
I dropped my socks in the toilet. No, they weren't on my feet. Yes, the toilet was empty.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Wacky Wednesday
We all say funny things. Some of us more than others. <>< Katie
Dad: I'm booking your hotel for Festival.
[This was literally two days after Festival...he clarified it was for 2011]
Laura: Mom said you already did that.
Dad: Yeah, well, hotels are weird. Sometimes you have to call them twice.
Random Guy in the Post Office: You don't need a passport to visit Hawaii, do you? Because it's in the same country, right?
Katie: What's the purpose of a foyer?
Mom: To welcome your friends into your house.
Katie: Last time I had a friend over it was October. And we came in through the garage.
Mom: I'm sorry your friends don't live in this country.
Christina: What's another word for "mouth" that starts with a "b"?
Laura: Orifice.
Christina: That's it!
Peder: Hey, Festival, love your lawn chair. Hug your lawn chair. Take your lawn chair home with you otherwise it will go into the lawn chair morgue, and we don't want that. We love our lawn chairs. You can bring your lawn chair back at noon tomorrow.
[Easter Sunday morning]
Katie: What's in your pocket?
Andy: My pocket knife.
Katie: Why?
Andy: In case I need to cut something.
Katie: What are you cutting in church?
Andy: Who knows: sandwiches, pickles, leaves, people--I'm trained to handle that.
Katie: It's wrong to cut people.
Andy: What about surgeons? They cut people.
Katie: That's a slightly different situation.
Andy: You're a slightly different situation.
Katie: So you're bringing your knife to church because we're going to have surgery in our church clothes?
Andy: No, they cut those off.
Mom: Tina, get the blue laundry basket off of the... um... what's it called?... um...
Katie: Chair. Washing machine. Couch. Counter. Mantel.
Mom: Deck!
Katie: I'm glad you figured it out on your own because I would have been shouting nouns at you for a long time before I came up with that one.
[a facebook conversation... no photo involved]
Brother One: Brother! Nobody wants to see your poop!
Brother Two: Please?
Katie: I bet your dad's interested.
the dad: I'm as interested as Katie is.
Katie: I like poop stories better, thanks.
Sarah: I sleep in pajamas most nights.
[on the bus back from the NYG]
Katie: Pastor Russ, I don't have ample floorspace back here, so I put my flip flops under your seat. If they slide up there, just kick them back to me, please.
Pastor Russ: If they slide up here, I'm throwing them in the garbage.
Katie: That's fine, but then I get to wear your shoes.
PR: Good thing I only have four different types of foot fungus.
[Mom had just used some relatively normal medical term... Christina's in high school]
Christina: I know I'm going to be a nurse and I should know what that means, but I haven't taken physics yet.
Uncle Bill: What are you holding? A zucchini? A cucumber?
Uncle Jay: A carrot?
Dad: A grape?
Uncle Jay: With elephantitis!
[it was a potato... a normal potato.... now forever known as a grape with elephantitis]
Christina: Daddy, why were you at the doctor?
Dad [creepy voice]: Bahlud. Vampries. Bahlud.
Christina: Did they take a pint?
Dad [serious voice]: A quart. Might have been a half-gallon.
Christina: Oh.
Pastor Seth: Have you gotten dinner?
Katie: I ate lunch at like 3.
PS: So you had lunner?
Mom: I need a Rav-4 Brochure.
Katie: I don't know what that means.
Mom: A Rav-4 is a car and a brochure is a little booklet.
I took her all of the little booklets I could find.
Speaker Dude: Your story isn't about you. Look it up. [pointing to a Bible]
Nikki: Keith! I think I'm sick, I've blogged twice in a week and I have two others in draft.
Keith: If that is sick, rush me to the critical care unit. And bury Katie; she's been dead awhile.
Dad: I'm booking your hotel for Festival.
[This was literally two days after Festival...he clarified it was for 2011]
Laura: Mom said you already did that.
Dad: Yeah, well, hotels are weird. Sometimes you have to call them twice.
Random Guy in the Post Office: You don't need a passport to visit Hawaii, do you? Because it's in the same country, right?
Katie: What's the purpose of a foyer?
Mom: To welcome your friends into your house.
Katie: Last time I had a friend over it was October. And we came in through the garage.
Mom: I'm sorry your friends don't live in this country.
Christina: What's another word for "mouth" that starts with a "b"?
Laura: Orifice.
Christina: That's it!
Peder: Hey, Festival, love your lawn chair. Hug your lawn chair. Take your lawn chair home with you otherwise it will go into the lawn chair morgue, and we don't want that. We love our lawn chairs. You can bring your lawn chair back at noon tomorrow.
[Easter Sunday morning]
Katie: What's in your pocket?
Andy: My pocket knife.
Katie: Why?
Andy: In case I need to cut something.
Katie: What are you cutting in church?
Andy: Who knows: sandwiches, pickles, leaves, people--I'm trained to handle that.
Katie: It's wrong to cut people.
Andy: What about surgeons? They cut people.
Katie: That's a slightly different situation.
Andy: You're a slightly different situation.
Katie: So you're bringing your knife to church because we're going to have surgery in our church clothes?
Andy: No, they cut those off.
Mom: Tina, get the blue laundry basket off of the... um... what's it called?... um...
Katie: Chair. Washing machine. Couch. Counter. Mantel.
Mom: Deck!
Katie: I'm glad you figured it out on your own because I would have been shouting nouns at you for a long time before I came up with that one.
[a facebook conversation... no photo involved]
Brother One: Brother! Nobody wants to see your poop!
Brother Two: Please?
Katie: I bet your dad's interested.
the dad: I'm as interested as Katie is.
Katie: I like poop stories better, thanks.
Sarah: I sleep in pajamas most nights.
[on the bus back from the NYG]
Katie: Pastor Russ, I don't have ample floorspace back here, so I put my flip flops under your seat. If they slide up there, just kick them back to me, please.
Pastor Russ: If they slide up here, I'm throwing them in the garbage.
Katie: That's fine, but then I get to wear your shoes.
PR: Good thing I only have four different types of foot fungus.
[Mom had just used some relatively normal medical term... Christina's in high school]
Christina: I know I'm going to be a nurse and I should know what that means, but I haven't taken physics yet.
Uncle Bill: What are you holding? A zucchini? A cucumber?
Uncle Jay: A carrot?
Dad: A grape?
Uncle Jay: With elephantitis!
[it was a potato... a normal potato.... now forever known as a grape with elephantitis]
Christina: Daddy, why were you at the doctor?
Dad [creepy voice]: Bahlud. Vampries. Bahlud.
Christina: Did they take a pint?
Dad [serious voice]: A quart. Might have been a half-gallon.
Christina: Oh.
Pastor Seth: Have you gotten dinner?
Katie: I ate lunch at like 3.
PS: So you had lunner?
Mom: I need a Rav-4 Brochure.
Katie: I don't know what that means.
Mom: A Rav-4 is a car and a brochure is a little booklet.
I took her all of the little booklets I could find.
Speaker Dude: Your story isn't about you. Look it up. [pointing to a Bible]
Nikki: Keith! I think I'm sick, I've blogged twice in a week and I have two others in draft.
Keith: If that is sick, rush me to the critical care unit. And bury Katie; she's been dead awhile.
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