MY SISTER GOT INTO VET SCHOOL!!!!
Okay, so I knew she would, but she didn't know that she would. The dean just called her up to tell her.
YAY!
Monday, February 26, 2007
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Fear
Here is my fear: I will turn into my mother. Oh, I know it's cliched. But I only fear it for one thing: My mother has stopped reading.
Just stopped! The most avid reader I ever knew has ceased to read, and thus... to breathe? Apparently not, but how is this so?
She has lots and lots of books, asks me to get things out of the library for her, even still attends her book club. (Though really, the book club members pretend to have read a book, start to artificially comment on a tiny aspect of said book, and then listen as one member stretches to relate this aspect to something he can argue about, most likely the evils of all things french. But they all get dinner out of it.)
Anyhow, she doesn't read. I suggest books to her all the time. But she says, "No, I won't read it. I just can't sit still. I only read books that I really, really want to read."
Has she forgotten what it is to read? To live in a book? To starve for hours and deprive yourself of using the bathroom because you positively cannot put the book down? To cry at the end of a book and then cry some more because the book is over? To grieve for an actual loss when you close the book?
What if, one day, I stop reading? I worry for my little customers. I sell books to little children and they love them. They read and read. But so many people I know read when they were children and then stopped. After middle school, they never read again. My dad is one of them. He is always telling us what a reader he was, how he soaked up every bit of information he could get his hands on as a child. What happened? I'm trying to instill a life-long love here. Will I fail? It's not worth nothing, I know. Even if they only read one good book, that one is worth it.
I'm starting to lose it, I think. Now that I read so many young adult and juvenile level books to keep up with our stock, I can hardly read an adult book. An adult book takes me ages and I'm always impressed at the sheer number of words on a page. Is this the down-hill slope? Old age here I come.
My sister just recently read Gone With the Wind, a book I own but don't have the gumption to up and start. But whenever I hand her a picture book to look at, she complains about the number of words. She can't put that much effort into a book. Hmm. She's at an interview for vet school today, and I know she'll do well and be accepted to WSU with no problem. But it makes you wonder. If a picture book were a suffering animal, she'd have no problem with all those words, I guess.
Ah, dear.
"So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around?"- Kathleen Kelly
Just stopped! The most avid reader I ever knew has ceased to read, and thus... to breathe? Apparently not, but how is this so?
She has lots and lots of books, asks me to get things out of the library for her, even still attends her book club. (Though really, the book club members pretend to have read a book, start to artificially comment on a tiny aspect of said book, and then listen as one member stretches to relate this aspect to something he can argue about, most likely the evils of all things french. But they all get dinner out of it.)
Anyhow, she doesn't read. I suggest books to her all the time. But she says, "No, I won't read it. I just can't sit still. I only read books that I really, really want to read."
Has she forgotten what it is to read? To live in a book? To starve for hours and deprive yourself of using the bathroom because you positively cannot put the book down? To cry at the end of a book and then cry some more because the book is over? To grieve for an actual loss when you close the book?
What if, one day, I stop reading? I worry for my little customers. I sell books to little children and they love them. They read and read. But so many people I know read when they were children and then stopped. After middle school, they never read again. My dad is one of them. He is always telling us what a reader he was, how he soaked up every bit of information he could get his hands on as a child. What happened? I'm trying to instill a life-long love here. Will I fail? It's not worth nothing, I know. Even if they only read one good book, that one is worth it.
I'm starting to lose it, I think. Now that I read so many young adult and juvenile level books to keep up with our stock, I can hardly read an adult book. An adult book takes me ages and I'm always impressed at the sheer number of words on a page. Is this the down-hill slope? Old age here I come.
My sister just recently read Gone With the Wind, a book I own but don't have the gumption to up and start. But whenever I hand her a picture book to look at, she complains about the number of words. She can't put that much effort into a book. Hmm. She's at an interview for vet school today, and I know she'll do well and be accepted to WSU with no problem. But it makes you wonder. If a picture book were a suffering animal, she'd have no problem with all those words, I guess.
Ah, dear.
"So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around?"- Kathleen Kelly
City girl -- Country Girl
I feel the need to blog. But I really have nothing to say. I'm feeling antsy today and it's not turning into creative energy. Actually, I just want to spend money. I've been very good for almost two months and now I want to buy some things. Just makeup. And earrings. And books. But see, the makeup I will buy in a few weeks when the free gift is good. And the earrings will actually be a present to myself for reaching one of my goals in weight loss. And books, well... they're not for me anyway. Those come out of my gift budget. I've got to look at that budget again. Don't I know that technically I haven't even paid for 1/2 of my mexico trip? I do not need that cute new 9 west purse I saw. Gosh, I'm such a girl. It's ridiculous. All said and done I'd really rather be out fishing or sitting in the field with a new calf in my lap sucking on my hand. But I do like to dress up and go out sometimes. I mean, am I supposed to meet a man while haying? Highly unlikely. And dressing up for me means putting on my nicer jeans and a more flattering shirt, actually brushing my hair and putting eye shadow on. Anyway, I bet most city girls have not been tromping out amongst the cow pies in their dankso clogs.
Isn't this entry compelling? I bet you're dying to come back and see what else I have to say...
Stay tuned.
Isn't this entry compelling? I bet you're dying to come back and see what else I have to say...
Stay tuned.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Not cut out for Urban life
So Keith Urban tickets go on sale tomorrow. And there is no way I can afford such a ticket. The Wreckers are opening (!!!) and it's going to be a fab concert. (Though I'm starting to wonder what our obsession with concerts is.) My favorite morning radio show was giving away front row tickets this morning and, though this never happens, they actually tried to give them away during my commute! So I called. And miracle of miracles I got through. Me! I switched off my radio so I could hear and was all set to jump through their hoops... Oh what hoops! It was just a Keith Urban music montage and I was to name all the songs in order. Five songs. One of them was playing backwards. Do you want to know what I heard? Mud. Pure mud. They recognized my disability of not having heard the montage earlier... but still. They also seem to have accused me of having my radio on, but I'm not totally positive of that acusation because, as I said, everything sounded like mud. Ugh. So I lose. No tickets. FRONT ROW! Nope. And there goes my only chance to win tickets for the next, like, five years. Statistics would show. To top it off, the show hung up on me. Other people get things for just calling and saying something that strikes the producer's fancy. I was in the middle of a sentence... Click. They're still my favorite morning show, though.
Sigh.
OH and did I mention that along with not winning front row seats I also did not win a meet and greet pass?! BACKSTAGE people. No goodlooking man with an australian accent for me.
Sigh.
OH and did I mention that along with not winning front row seats I also did not win a meet and greet pass?! BACKSTAGE people. No goodlooking man with an australian accent for me.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Wise Up or Candy Heart Truths
Candy hearts can be tricky little devils. You can pass them off as nothing-- it's not like you wrote those little sayings or put them in a box so that they happen to spell out love, true love.
It is equally as easy to read into them all your hopes and dreams. If only the one you gave them to would see the significance. Hello, they're heart shaped. And did he even notice the sayings before pouring the whole box into his mouth as once? So they are jr. high level sentiments. You were just trying to talk to him on his own level.
And then, what if you receive candy hearts? You and every other person he knows, male and female. Well, still. He did include you. And they are hearts. And that one did say "true love" which is so obviously not jr. high. Then there was that one odd one, "fax me". Fax me? Really? Maybe he's not the romantic you thought. Oh, isn't that awkward side of him cute? Wait, he didn't write that!
Valentine's Day is just a crock if your single.
Only a candy heart could sum it up so well: "Wise Up."
*This hypothetical (key word, folks) situation brought to you by Necco. Eww.
It is equally as easy to read into them all your hopes and dreams. If only the one you gave them to would see the significance. Hello, they're heart shaped. And did he even notice the sayings before pouring the whole box into his mouth as once? So they are jr. high level sentiments. You were just trying to talk to him on his own level.
And then, what if you receive candy hearts? You and every other person he knows, male and female. Well, still. He did include you. And they are hearts. And that one did say "true love" which is so obviously not jr. high. Then there was that one odd one, "fax me". Fax me? Really? Maybe he's not the romantic you thought. Oh, isn't that awkward side of him cute? Wait, he didn't write that!
Valentine's Day is just a crock if your single.
Only a candy heart could sum it up so well: "Wise Up."
*This hypothetical (key word, folks) situation brought to you by Necco. Eww.
February
This morning I walked out to a fresh blanket of snow, and it was so lovely! I'd nearly forgotten how nice it could be. Everything was gorgeous. It was very wet snow and the bushes that line our driveway were resting their heads on the cold, black pavement.
I've been enjoying February the last few days, actually. It's not all that cold, just grey and foggy. I like it all dark like this. Yesterday at 11:45 a.m., the street lights outside my office window were still glowing cheerfully.
Of course, when I mentioned this to my liberal friends, they freaked out and started ranting about the energy crisis and global warming and... for heavens sake. I think they need to read a little more literature and not so much current issue/political junk. If you spend all your time fretting about how things are going away you will not even have the chance to enjoy them while they're here. I understand where they're coming from, but they were certainly not looking at my life like a nice old painting like I was. So unsentimental.
I suppose they'd be satisified to know that today, dark as it is, there is no cheer from the street lights. They are just cold metal posts in the cold metal world. And the snow has melted.
Didn't this start out as a happy post?
I've been enjoying February the last few days, actually. It's not all that cold, just grey and foggy. I like it all dark like this. Yesterday at 11:45 a.m., the street lights outside my office window were still glowing cheerfully.
Of course, when I mentioned this to my liberal friends, they freaked out and started ranting about the energy crisis and global warming and... for heavens sake. I think they need to read a little more literature and not so much current issue/political junk. If you spend all your time fretting about how things are going away you will not even have the chance to enjoy them while they're here. I understand where they're coming from, but they were certainly not looking at my life like a nice old painting like I was. So unsentimental.
I suppose they'd be satisified to know that today, dark as it is, there is no cheer from the street lights. They are just cold metal posts in the cold metal world. And the snow has melted.
Didn't this start out as a happy post?
Friday, February 09, 2007
Frigid
I'm so cold! Do you know how cold I am? My toes will not get warm. They are little icecicles. Last night I actually had to wear a hat to bed. A hat! With socks, longjohns, sweats, a hot water bottle, and four blankets. And a cat. I almost got warm enough to sleep, then. Brrrr.
Monday, February 05, 2007
See these boots? I do not care that they are Uggs. I have never wanted Uggs. No. But these are So Stinkin' Cute.
Do you know how much they cost? $200. (And one of the high schoolers in my youth group got some for Christmas. Hmm.)
Do I want cute boots that will get all dirty and will very soon be too warm and will make me look way to young, or do I want to go to Mexico?
Well, as long as we're speaking strictly in wants I want both, of course!
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