Birthday Haul

As I come to the end of my last day of being 30, I look forward to being thirty-something. It makes me think about what is really important in life. Family, friends, health and (most importantly) material possessions.

Most of these gifts are from my loving parents. Unfortunately, I promised my mother that I wouldn't open these presents until my birthday. Luckily, there is at least one card I can open without the givers caring or even knowing that I jumped the gun...

Aww, kitty in a basket...who could have sent it?

That's right! Aunt Ruth and Uncle Dan! Wait...what? I don't have an Aunt Ruth or an Uncle Dan!

Oh yeah, from Camp Li Lo Li.

Meow!?

What's that you say? I've never met Aunt Ruth and Uncle Dan? I never even attended Camp Li Lo Li? Well kitties, you are right. I chose to further my illustrious softball career by playing in the All-Star game, rather than going to camp. That career was tragically cut short by my strong anti-sliding stance.

My non-attendace clearly hasn't dissuaded Aunt Ruth and Uncle Dan from wishing me a very blessed birthday every year for the past 20 years or so. Not only do I get a card, but it is literally stuffed with inspirational goodies.

As far as I can tell, this one is just a prayer card. I think it meets the definition of a prayer card.

This one, however, has a handy 2011 calendar on the back. Maybe I'll put it in my purse. Maybe.

Thanks to good old Camp Li Lo Li, I have been able to quench my thirst to open something.

Just kidding! I'll probably get a bit of a head start tonight so I can enjoy some of my gifts tomorrow.

Dark Letters

I started my latest NU class last Saturday. It is an examination of Courtly Love (not the singer from Hole) in the Middle Ages. I wasn't really sure what I was getting into since my exposure to Medieval Literature is fairly limited.

The instructor started talking about classical philosophers and theologists and I think he was even speaking latin at times. I checked out the course description and while there is "no language requirement" for the students, it warned that the instructor may "speak in tongues".

The first thing we are reading is the collected letters of Abelard and Heloise. Abelard starts the whole thing off talking about how he was the most awesome student, so great that he regularly out-shone all his fellow students and often publicly disagreed with his masters. He seems surprised that this caused rancor aimed at him. He then goes on to infiltrate the home of a gentleman in order to get to know the gentleman's niece, Heloise. They fall in love, she has a baby, and they run off together.

Heloise's uncle is a little ticked. He makes the couple marry, but Abelard drops her off at a convent and goes back to teaching. This puts the uncle over the edge. Abelard suffers the consequences by being castrated in the middle of the night by the uncle and others. This is all pretty awful, but Abelard isn't even close to being finished. After reading about his exiles, charges of heresy, his awesomeness as a teacher, another exile, monks who try to poison and stab him, I really started to lose sympathy. By the end, I just wanted him to shut up.

Somehow (I imagine as a result of their forced separation) Eloise manages to stay very much in love with this wet blanket. She is one of the most highly educated in intelligent women of the millennium, but we all make poor choices. Her letters are amazing. I kind of can't believe that she was as candid and provocative as she was. She tells Abelard that she would rather be his concubine than the greatest king's queen. When she quits professing her undying love, she actually gets down to the business of re-defining the rules that govern Benedictine nuns. She quotes the bible, Ovid, and countless philosophers. She basically kicks ass.

Anyway, we shall see how this course goes, but so far, so good.

Misogynist or Bigot? Both.

I can't really explain it, but I truly love Survivor. I guess it comes down to the endless enjoyment I get out of watching idiots do idiotic things. This season, the producers decided to pit old vs. young. I understand this isn't the first time they've done it, but I didn't see the other season. I'm actually rooting for the oldies as a group, but I don't mind some of the young people.

This week actually increased my respect for the younger tribe since they made a smart move and voted off a blatant jackass. This guy, whose name is Shannon of all things, decided he needed to make a strong "alpha male" alliance since men are subjugated by women all the time (when they get married). He proves his point by explaining that if men aren't careful, there could be a woman president one day. Women are so powerful that the may one day be in power.

When his tribe loses in week two, he goes gunning for Brenda (who seems like she might be smart and cool). Unfortunately for him, Brenda has already exercised her feminine wiles on his strongest ally. She did this without even trying (more evidence of the power of women). When Shannon gets wind that Brenda is now after him, he decides to self-destruct when it comes time for the vote. He blatantly asks one guy (not in his alpha alliance) if he is gay, then goes on to scientifically prove the other man's gayness by asserting that there are lots of gays in New York City.

At this point, Shannon has clearly lost most of his alliance by exposing just how much of a jackass he really is. In the end, he awesomely gets voted out by a significant majority. Only two idiots stuck with him and from the looks on their faces when casting their votes, I don't think they were happy about it.

In order for the young team to continue in their quest for awesomeness, they next need to get rid of the gym teacher who wants to challenge a one-legged contestant to a foot race (the woman with the prosthesis would probably win since she is a triathlete, but whatever).

This guy never had rice before Survivor? The biggest change in him will be that he may eat a carrot or vegetables now? Being married for eleven years (pity that woman) makes him 42? His actual age is 31, he thinks that marriage adds 25 years, but he'll settle for 11. I recommend watching the clip if you want to listen to someone who makes The Situation seem downright progressive.

Rainy Day Woman

That's what I am. I was so happy when I woke up this morning (11am is still technically morning) and it was pouring outside. It made me feel like my scheduled day of lounging around and doing nothing was not as sloth like as usual. Being painfully lazy on a Saturday is my M.O., but I'm often left with a not-so-fresh feeling after such a day. That feeling generally carries into Sunday causing me to do nothing for another full day. A morning storm washes away those feelings leaving me with an excellent justification for sloth.

Imagine my surprise when I got a call at 3 to go to the Guinness and Oyster Festival. I, somewhat reluctantly at first, agreed. I mean, I had the perfect excuse to waste an entire day and now I wasn't going to use it! I did have a good time and a Guinness, so I don't regret going along. I actually have the opposite of sloth feeling, whatever that is called. Maybe I feel energized? I don't know.

Even my morning wasn't a total waste. I actually completed the baby blanket for my friend Jody's baby. Aiko was born on the 14th of September and, from the pictures, she looks like a doll. Another co-worker and I are hoping to visit Jody and her baby sometime in the next week or two, so I knew I needed to wrap it up.

As you can see, at the bottom of the picture, the blanket is not exactly ready for use. I finished all the knitting, but now I have to begin the tedious task of weaving in all those ends. I am not looking forward to this. It gives me hope, however, that Sunday will not be totally wasted.

I Watched a Scary Movie!

Admittedly, saying "I watched a scary movie" is equivalent to me bragging about eating spicy food. When I define something as "spicy", that usually means it had an extra dash of pepper and when I watch a "scary" movie, it is generally more of a thriller. Much like you won't catch me eating Sichuan anything, you will also never see me watching Saw (or any of its spawn). My favorite scary movies (I can't even legitimately call them "horror") are Sleepy Hollow and...well, that's about it.

I have always been this way. As a child I had to be taken out of the movie theater during Snow White and the Seven Dwarves (the Disney version). I was an adult before I had the guts to watch The Princess Bride the whole way through. That may sound strange, but when I went to see it on the big screen in 1987, the pain machine scared the hell out of me and I had not yet perfected my eyelash trick (to be described in the next paragraph). I pictured it as a kind of Iron Maiden that pierced Wesley and flattened him like a pancake. It was horrific.

Even with Sleepy Hollow I watched most of it through my eyelashes. You see, I squint to the point where my vision blurs and my eyelashes cover about 50% of the screen. I want to know what is going on, but I don't actually want to SEE it. Also, peeking through your fingers is totally lame. So that's how I've watched The Blaire Witch Project, The Sixth Sense, and the majority of Sin City (I realize the last one isn't technically a scary movie, but it is pretty gross).

The scary movie I watched recently was Let the Right One In, a Swedish film about a bullied boy who befriends a strange girl who moves into his apartment complex. Turns out, she's a vampire. It was mostly just mildly creepy with a soupcon of graphic violence. I had heard it was good and an American version will be coming out in October called Let Me In. I figured that if I can handle the Swedes, I will probably be able to watch the Americanized movie (at least through my lashes). But I knew that if I couldn't make it through the original, I would never be able to sit through the inevitably more intense remake.

Let the Right One In is available to watch instantly on Netflix and I definitely recommend it if you are into the latest vampire craze. In this story, the author (and screenwriter) harkened back to older vampire mythology eschewing the glamorization and sexing up of vampires found in True Blood and ensuring that the undead do not glitter in the sun (they spontaneously and spectacularly combust). This is definitely more Brahm Stoker than Charlaine Harris.

At its core, it is a story of friendship and trust in an unfriendly and uncaring world. My favorite part is when the boy asks the girl to "go steady" their dialogue is very sweet and honest. Also not to be missed is the pool scene at the very end. I hope you like it as much as I did.

The wedding of the year

Last weekend was my big trip to Erie and Hershey for the Labor Day Weekend Wedding Extravaganza! It was a great time and a beautiful wedding. The wedding was so lovely that when one of my friends started the rumor that I had been crying, everyone actually believed it!

In Jenn's defense, I was sniffeling a bit from hair being blown into my nose, and my attempts to remove the flyways could easily be construed as the wiping of tears. Alas, even a gorgeous ceremony in a rose garden can't break the Nancy Dusckas in me.

Of course, being the complete dorks that we are, we couldn't actually attend a wedding without a little hilarity. Every one of us was well aware that the wedding would take place in Hershey Gardens (emphasis on the "Gardens"). Despite this, at least 4 out of the 6 of us girls wore heels. When we arrived, we were instructed to follow a path down a hill, around the Rose Garden, through the Oriental Gardens (where Nikki was nearly left behind when her heel got stuck in the planks on a bridge) then back up a into a tree-shaded grassy knoll. All I can say is that Hershey Gardens owes us big time for aerating the lawn. If we had a lick of sense between us, we would have considered wearing flats and enjoyed a leisurely stroll... but we don't.

After the ceremony I (along with one or two others) changed into flats for the reception. We were among the first to arrive at the Hotel Hershey and got our drinks accordingly. The bartender was adorable and quite generous with the Tanqueray.

Once we moved into the Reception Hall, things really got going. The groom (I assume) produced an introduction for the couple's entrance and the DJ cranked up the tunes. By this time I had had a couple of pops so, after dinner and awesome desserts (best bread pudding EVER) I was ready to do a little dancing. It was a generally successful venture. I totally rocked out to Miley Cyrus and Bon Jovi.

I was not quite as proficient with some of the other songs. There was one in particular that caused me some problems. It was one of those line dancing things, I think the ChaCha Slide. I was only familiar with it from my brief stint working in Phys Ed at my old High School. We would play the song for the Life Skills class during gym. I should have brushed up on it at that time. I literally cannot tell my right from my left when put on the spot. I inevitably go the wrong way. It was a little embarrassing and the song drags on forever. I stuck with it (which is evidence of amount of alcohol consumed) and saw it through to the end. This video is a close approximation of my difficulties.

Luckily I was not the only fool on the dance floor. Maggie managed to generally look like she knew what she was doing, but busted out some of her older moves. Kathryn harkened back to her bewigged roots and pulled out her Nina Loca Bailar. Joanna (impressively) stayed in her heels all night long and treated us to a Miss Linda's Special when the DJ had the audacity to put on a slow song. It was Fan-tastic!

All kidding aside, it was a perfect day and a beautiful wedding. It was also wonderful to see my PSU girls all together, it happens so infrequently. Congratulations Team Mali!

You may notice a lack of visual evidence for any of this. I had my camera with me and even replaced the batteries. I was just having too much fun to use it! If anyone has any backup for me, email the pictures. I'd love to include them. Particularly if anyone caught the little girl creeping in on the ceremony.

Truth is Stranger than Fiction

Believe it or not, I am now in an NFL fantasy league. Even if you don't know me, you should have probably noticed that my taste in TV runs more to shows about glee clubs, vampires, sewing competitions and modeling, not so much sports.

This whole thing came about because my mom just got the NFL Red Zone. (I think that's what its called, but I can't be bothered to look it up.) She then decided to create her own fantasy team. Since she didn't belong to a league, the prospect of competing only against people she didn't know did not appeal.

My brother was convinced to create a league for us and, from now on, he will be referred to as "Commissioner". My understanding is that leagues require 8 teams. Our league is made up of Mom, Dad, Commissioner, 3 of Commissioner's friends, and me. If you are good at math, you may have noticed that one plus one plus one plus three plus one leaves us with one bullet.

That was just nonsense. The Commissioner has ended up with two teams to give us the necessary total.

You probably already know that, in order to have a fantasy team, you must choose your team in a draft. Luckily, it is possible to set up an auto draft. That is what I did (with some help from Commissioner). I'm told that my team is good and I do recognize about 3 names. I don't have the foggiest clue what to do at this point. Wish me luck.