oh...crud.

My sister once told me exactly what to do if I ever got pulled over by a cop. In a nutshell, you very slowy and gingerly reach for your license, insurance and registration, while explaining to the cop exactly what you are doing and profusely assuring him that you are proceeding with such slow caution so as not to alarm him. The idea is that you are so courteous it's almost funny, and he lets you off scott-free.

Although you may laugh, I admit that I had this well-rehearsed. I spent much time scheming exactly what I would do when I got pulled over on 8th street in Columbus, where I sped every single day for an entire semester. (It's very hard to go 25 when you're late for class.) First I would smile sweetly, and then I would explain that, although a glovebox may be a prime place to hide a gun, I most assuredly was not getting a gun. I would also serenely inform him that though I may look suspicious fishing around between the two front seats, it was simply because I had a lot of junk in my purse and was having trouble locating my license.

As you might guess, things didn't pan out exactly as planned. Let me paint you a picture. It's 10:30 pm, and I'm on the way home from Seward with Merrill and a friend. I'm on the north edge of David, right where the speed limit goes back to 60. I'm booking it for home, and it happens. For the first time in my whole life, I undergo the sensation of seeing red and blue lights in my rearview mirror. You should've heard me. "Is that a cop? Am I being pulled over by a cop?! WHAT DO I DO??"

Yeah, me. Pulled over. Just lovely. And that perfect little scenario that would leave a cop laughing and ensure my freedom from all things ticket-related? It flew the coop. I admit that instead I felt slightly, um...flustered. So flustered, in fact, that I took off my seatbelt. How dumb can you get?!?! Not only am I in trouble for whatever-it-is, but on top of that, I don't have my seatbelt on?! I swear...

Envision this next sentence said in a snappy, no-fooling-around-with-me female voice. "So-and-so, with the David City Police Department. You've got a headlight out." She slaps the hood of my van in a matter-of-fact way. (Then she goes up and reads the license plate off to her little mic thingey-majig. Like I'm some busted out refugee or something.)

"Oh, I do?! Really!"
"Yup. License, registration, and insurance please."
By this time I was feeling very meek indeed. "Umm...are these the right ones?"
"As long as they're current."

While she was back in her car fiddling around, it suddenly struck me as widly humerous. I started giggling. "You guys!! I just got pulled over by a cop! How hilarious it that?!"

I don't think I would have found it quite so funny if I had done something to warrant my name being in next week's local paper, but as it was I simply had to replace the bulb and have any constable sign that I had done so. (And yes, everything from speeding to marijuana usage gets your name in the paper.)

Besides, now I've got one up on most of my friends. Have YOU ever been pulled over by a cop?

we find you fascinating...

Click on image to see it larger.

keira

Keira is at the age where she can understand every word I say, but she can't always communicate everything she wants me to know. It makes for a pretty cute time together.

"Keira, where's the remote?" She gets this devilish grin on her face and points with a "mmff!" I asked her about six different times, and she pointed to a different place every time. When I told her she had no clue where it was, she laughed.

For some reason the bathroom door was sticking and I couldn't get it open...so I'm pushing on it and twisting the doorknob like crazy, and her chubby little two-year-old fingers reach up and twist the doorknob just so. The kid's smarter than I am...

She doesn't talk much, but her look clearly said "Aww..aren't I cute! I just threw all the towels on the ground!"

Um, no. Pick them up, my friend.

So she tries to fold them like a big girl. It was pretty darn cute. :)

The Notebook

*GAG!!*

Ok. Onto my review of Nicholas Sparks' book The Notebook. On a five-star scale, I rate it at ONE. Yeah. I was underwhelmed, to put it mildly.

Briefly, The Notebook is a not-so-epic, attempted-romance-novel gone wrong. By "not-so-epic," I mean simply that it's...well, lame. I think Sparks was aiming for a partially tragic, laugh-and-cry-at-all-the-right-places, unbelievably true, melt-your-heart love story. I felt more like I was reading what is known around here as a 'trashy romance novel.' The story was ho-hum, and the writing didn't exactly wow me.

The story is told from the perspective of Noah, who fell in love with a girl one summer when he was seventeen, and then didn't see her again for fourteen years. As a 29-year-0ld, engaged, well-to-do young lady, his past love looks him up and they spend two days together realizing that time couldn't stop the power of love, that they still had feelings for each other, etc. upon lame etc. It could be a cute story, but it revolves entirely around desire and what "feels good." It is totally acceptable and even condoned when they have a passionate evening at his house when she's stuck there because of a thunderstorm. Did I mention this gal is engaged? Not only is the story soaked with indecent actions, but it also gets much too graphic about said actions.

Don't misunderstand me, I am in no way bashing romance or amore or whatever it is. (I didn't meet my true love when I was seventeen -although I still have a few months! - so I wouldn't know.) But getting caught up in a fictitious, lucid novel about two people sinning (let's just call a spade a spade here) is not healthy, in my opinion. I think I would be much better off using my time more wisely - there are multitudes of wholesome, delightful books out there. (Ask me if you want a list. :)

And you? Have you read The Notebook or watched the movie? What do you think?

(P.S. I didn't even finish it.)

(P.S. 2 I just today realized why the movie Nights in Rodanthe, which I watched on the flight from San Diego to Kansas City, was so darn bad. It's based on a Nicholas Sparks novel!! Stay away from Nights in Rodanthe!!)

the murder on the links.

"Now I am old-fashioned. A woman, I consider, should be womanly. I have no patience with the modern neurotic girl who jazzes from morning to night, smokes like a chimney, and uses language which would make a Billingsgate fishwoman blush!"

I'm addicted...how I am ever to get through my January reading list when all I can read is Agatha Christie! I just finished up a delightful Miss Marple, and I am currently devouring a Poirot...

*great sigh of contentment*

Always - continuously; without exception.

Philippians 4:4 hit me like a spanking spoon today. Let me explain.

My job is not exactly what I would call fun. In fact, about 75% of the time, it is more 'blah' than 'fun.' It can also be extremely frustrating and tiring. I walked into work today, took once glance at the daily schedule, and immediately started griping. Complaining about coworkers. Grumbling about residents. Rolling my eyes at this or that. It's like I go into automatic grumble-mode when I get to work.

Then, about halfway through my shift, Philippians 4:4 jumped into my mind. And I quote:

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!

*cough* !! *cough* !!

Ummm....right. "Rejoice. Always." And he repeated himself. I've heard that verse a trillion times, but it really hit home today. Like, "Erica!! Wake up!! What are you doing?!"

But why shouldn't I complain? After all, it wasn't fair. It wasn't going to be any fun. And why did it have to be me?? You get the drift. As much as it might've looked to my eyes like I had reason to gripe, there are two simple reasons why I think it is essential for me to cut the complaining.

1. Complaining is simply being ungrateful. Being ungrateful is simply saying that you aren't happy with what God is doing and you think you know a better way. Don't go there. Obviously it is not a good place to be.

2. Complaining drags you down. Because of my personality, I tend to look at a half-empty cup and react, and it's very easy for me to stay in that downward spiral. It's difficult for me to look at that same cup and say "hey! Here is an opportunity for me to overcome my negative tendencies and give thanks!"

It's massively difficult, but that is what I want to do. That's how I want to train myself to be. I so want to have such a mindset of thankfulness, that when I look at a situation, no matter how unpleasant it may seem, I can rejoice that I have an opportunity to bring life and JOY.

Always.

beat the drum! (well, not quite.)

I don't want to make a habit of telling you useless and uninspiring information about my life on my blog -- BUT! I have plans, which I am excited about. So I will take this moment to share them briefly with you.

After I say this next sentence, you all yell and cheer and 'huzzah' like crazy, ok?

I'm a senior.

(Commence general yelling, cheering, and huzzah-ing.)

Yep, that's right. A sure-enough, no-kidding, graduating-in-approximately-four-months-two-weeks-and-one-day senior. That means that I have one more semester of high school, a semester which I am vastly eager about. I am taking two classes online: Psychology and 21st Century Faiths. (I think there will be a third, but I won't know until Tuesday.) Both sound intriguing to me and are subjects about which I am very interested to learn. (I know. It sounds ridiculous. But I couldn't end with a preposition. For Mom's sake.)

Not only that, but both are required by Grace University, where I will be a full-time freshman (it's basically like starting over at the bottom again!) next fall. I would try to convey to you how excited I am about this, but it can't be done. You'll just have to imagine.

So! In a nutshell - study a lot, have a big party, work all summer, and go to college!

Now it's your turn. If you've finished high school, tell me what you were thinking your senior year, and what you did after you graduated. If you haven't yet, tell me what you want to do with your senior year and after that!

Don't confuse fame with success. Madonna is one; Helen Keller is the other.

-Erma Bombeck

skating

on snuggies and Hitchcock

I have a lovely post created in my mind...a post full of pictures chronicling my adventures in Texas. Unfortunately, all of my lovely pictures for said post are on our laptop and, shock of all shocks, it's dead. Thus, my lovely post will have to wait.

Being as I finished reading my book at 1 am and our departure is scheduled for 5, I determined it would be wiser to stay up instead of sleeping for two and half hours and waking up disgruntled with achey eyes. I hate those achey eyes you get when you haven't had your full measure of sleep. Two and half hours is definitely not my full measure of sleep.

So here I am. And instead of the perfect little post I had planned, I am simply writing. It seems a fitting thing to do at 1 am in the grandparents' drafty old mansion. It is so cold in this den that out of sheer desperation, I have stooped to one of the lower realms I will ever stoop to in my life. I am wearing a snuggie. And yes, you read that right. A snuggie. Did I mention that it is very, very cold in this house? Please don't hold it against me. Sometimes certain situations make people do things...

Two nights ago we watched Rope. All I had to hear were the names Alfred Hitchcock and Jimmy Stewart, and I had the remote in one hand and hot chocolate in the other. (One needs hot chocolate in the vain attempt to stay warm in this house.) Jimmy Stewart, by definition, did not disappoint. Alfred, on the other hand did not do his best work in the creation of Rope. In the very first scene you observe young-and-in-love Tom get strangled. He is then directly stuffed into a chest, which serves as the supper table for the party hosted by the killers that evening. I usually cotton to creepy movies like Hitchcock, but with all the adjectives I have used to describe the grandparents' house, I have yet to use eerie. I will do so directly. The grandparents' house is eerie late at night. Did I mention we just finished watching a suspenseful and frightening movie, and all of the family had gone to bed while I finished editing some pictures? So here I am in this drafty, old, eerie house, with all of the lights out. I dash up the stairs with my heart pounding, grab my pajamas, and then begin the quest. You see, our bedroom is at one end of a very long, bookshelf-lined, black-as-night hallway. The bathroom is at the other end. There are plenty of places along the way for a menace to hide with a piece of rope, just waiting for poor, very-much-suspecting me to walk past.

And yet, here I am to tell about it. Although I'm sure I lost several years off of my life that night, at least I'm still alive, right?

cool people wear coveralls.

2010! Woohoo! *throws confetti*

Our New Year's Eve festivities began with picking up a couple of friends from hither and yon, and then we commenced tamale making - one of our family's year-end traditions. Liz, Dad and I went out and gathered the husks while Mom mixed up the dough and filling.

Liz and I decided all cool people wear coveralls.

Gwagous girl!

After the tamale assembly, we went over to some friends' for supper. Ali, Merrill and Liz were kind enough to strike the Jane Austen Mr-Bingley-is-coming-so-we-must-look-perfect pose for me. =)


Awesome people. Fantastic party.
2009 wasn't the best, but 2010 is going to be magnificent!