Some day write the money      then spring me out late at night

Come hurt the graduate student

Inhale no other smoke     smell the one

I like my food loud

This athlete could use more school

Good sciency research borrows my brain

Pizza philosophy can let a jock skip life

Cram paper in roommate

Take all semester to study break dancing

Talk long      learn little       fail test

Make coffee soon after college

High time to give us a job

Smell every professor and you never need a friend

She too pout

Stay in library and cry

Better call this girl or her sister would hurt you

Blow mind here

]]> http://pumpkinankles.edublogs.org/2009/04/07/wisdom-from-the-refrigerator/feed/ 0 http://pumpkinankles.edublogs.org/2008/12/13/ask-not-for-whom-the-bell-chingeth/ http://pumpkinankles.edublogs.org/2008/12/13/ask-not-for-whom-the-bell-chingeth/#comments Sat, 13 Dec 2008 20:38:37 +0000 witherow http://pumpkinankles.edublogs.org/?p=151 Well, here I am. My church’s Christmas play, A Jerusalem Story, will be performed tomorrow morning. After a months of researching, writing, gathering props, learning how to direct and act at the same time, and ordering fake beards online, I just won’t know what to do with my time once it’s all over.

Wait, I just remembered. I will sleep.

A lot.

Until like March.

In all seriousness, I am excited how God has allowed everything to come together, even when I doubted this all would work. I have to keep reminding myself that it’s not about the acting or the set or the fake beards (which I am SO glad I don’t have to wear) — it’s about showing a little glimpse of how wonderful Christ really is. Soli Deo gloria.

Midway Bible Church doesn’t always do a drama at Christmas, though. Last year we just had a small program of Scripture reading and singing. I found another old instant message conversation from last Christmas, this one with my friend Mike, in which we allude to this program. Among … other things.

MIKE
do you hear the bells?
for whom do they toll?

ME
the silver bells, or the big scary church bell?

MIKE
um…

ME
Ask not for whom the bell tolls

MIKE
the little ceramic ones shaped like snowmen and things
except little bells don’t toll
they tinkle
or ringle
or go ching ching ching

ME
Ask not for whom the bell ching ching chings

MIKE
hmmm
it chingeth for thee
somehow that doesn’t make chills go down my spine…

ME
it’s the kid-friendly version.

MIKE
who wrote that anyway?

ME
Um, I was about to ask you that.

MIKE
rats

ME
I am a failure as an English major.

MIKE
oh well
uh..
I mean
that’s too bad. I fully commiserate
here’s a virtual hankie

ME
thhhhhhhhhhhhhhhttttt!
That was me virtually using said virtual … oh, never mind

MIKE
my friend made fun of me the other day and I asked him if it was possible to send whooping cough as an e-mail attachment
he said to try

ME
Did it work?

MIKE
I didn’t try
I’m too nice
WE’RE GOING TO COUNTRY CUPBOARD TO GET THE BREAKFAST BUFFET TOMORROW MORNING
oh what happiness

ME
Fancy!!!

MIKE
I can eat breakfast sausage until it comes out my ears

ME
I’M GOING TO MY MOM’S HOUSE TO GOOF OFF ALL DAY TOMORROW.

MIKE
cool
I was going to ask if you were there already yet

ME
I went home earlier this weekend, but came back here so I could go to Midway today for the Christmas program.

MIKE
how’d the program go?

ME
I was reader number three. nothing fancy, but it was little and good.

MIKE
I’ve always wanted to be the Third Reader
kind of like Shakespeare’s Second Murderer
Only not

ME
Hee hee. Becky and I thought of a prank to outrank last year’s refrigerator decorating

[[To explain--The year before Becky and I had decorated the refrigerator on Christmas Eve. We tied dozens of little ribbon bows around the pickles, ketchup, steak sauce, everything. On Christmas morning, my mom sure was ... wondering about the mental health of her daughters.]]

MIKE
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh
I have just written the longest “ooh” in the history of English literature
what is it?

ME
I doubt that’s the longest one, but I digress. we are going to string yarn across the kitchen. It will be so obnoxious and we will be in such trouble! oh boy!

MIKE
can I help?
I could maybe create some sort of diversion

ME
can you send us some virtual yarn?

MIKE
I can try
I’m going to get going
I need to go to bed early if I’m going to get up and eat all that food in the morning
it takes a lot of energy

ME
Wow. That’s intense.

MIKE
yes it is rather
I’ll send an attachment with some yarn

ME
say hi to Judith for me

MIKE
I will and I will tell her that you’re super offended cuz she hasn’t called

ME
Great idea! adios and merry Christmas!

The yarn stringing did work. Now we just have to come up with another Christmas Eve prank … one that is funny, random, and will make my mom laugh, instead of one that will irritate and anger my mother and make her want to return all of our gifts on the spot. Christmas morning is a sensitive time to do things like this.

Oh, and right after our conversation I had to go look up the poet. Because I’m dorky like that. And if I can’t match random lines of poetry with their poets at a moment’s notice, at least I have some pretty amazing Google-fu (that’s like kung fu for nerds).

It was John Donne.

No, for real. There is a place called Pumpkintown and they have a pumpkin-themed festival every fall. See? Here’s photographic evidence:

I figured if there were any place in the world that might be weird enough to have a pumpkin with ankles, Pumpkintown would be the place. So off we went.

Can you believe over 30,000 show up for this thing?? And all of them just stand there in the way when you’re trying to get from point A to point B, which is especially difficult when you’re trying to maneuver with a guide dog!

Anyway, Christy and I did our little investigation. What we did find:

1. Lots of homemade crafts. I got a tea cozy for my little Irish grandma! (a tea cozy is like a toboggan for a teapot—keeps your tea warm!)
2. Barbeque sandwiches and fresh mountain apples (mmm)
3. An entire section of booths decorated with Confederate flags (umm … the two Northern girls didn’t go there).
4. Some obnoxious Pomeranians in a baby stroller that barked at Reba like they wanted to take her on

(Reba, rolling her eyes): They ain’t even dogs, I mean it! Can’t even walk on their own. Man, I ain’t got the time o’ day to waste on them! [For a fuller description of Reba’s inner monologue, please visit her blog, People Are Dumb.]

5. Pumpkin butter! (we won’t think about the fate of the poor little pumpkins used to make said butter)
6. A creepy old redneck dude who tried to get us to look inside a doll-sized outhouse and talk to the Barbie inside … um … yeah … um … there is no word in the English language adequate to describe the awkward creepy crude weirdness of this moment, so I am forced to invent one: awkreepudeness. Blech!
7. A magical mini-donut making machine, in which the baby donuts float down a river of boiling oil only minutes before they are covered in cinnamon sugar and consumed. A health nightmare, but Christy found them heavenly, and I must admit they were kind of toothsome!

8. Bluegrass music

9. And finally, though not as plenteous as one might expect … pumpkins!

See how happily the children frolic in the orange round delightfulness? And not an ankle among them!

Among the pumpkins, that is. I’m assuming the children did have ankles. But the pumpkins didn’t. Pumpkins don’t have ankles.

Which is what I’ve been saying all along.

Even if that is true, I do admit that I have not been blogging as faithfully as I ought. However, as I said earlier, I have only the finest excuses to offer. Here are my top 10:

1. I am trying to finish writing a drama for a Christmas cantata by Sunday.

2. I am collaborating on a second Christmas cantata, which also is supposed to be done by next week.

3. My sister and I have been watching very interesting cartoons recently, which limits my blogging time significantly.

4. Eunice and I had a stressful fight last night. I whacked her with a box and knocked her down, which made her mad, though I’m not sure why. Then I chased her around the porch with said box for a while until I finally pushed her off the edge (and yes, we live on second floor). I have a feeling she’s been sulking and plotting revenge ever since. This is unsettling, and this stress makes it hard to concentrating on blogging.

5. I have been spending a couple nights a week exercising with some of my friends. An indoor track is much more fun with three blind girls, a dog guide and a Miss Kawen. Rachel and I can run circles around everyone!

6. My room is a mess and needs to be cleaned.

7. OK, so I haven’t actually been cleaning my room, but if I were, it would take away from blogging.

8. I like sleeping.

9. Eating sometimes, too. These activities also take away from blogging.

10. Have I mentioned I’m working on two full-length cantatas??

So there you have them. My top 10 excuses. Only the best for my faithful readers! (Thanks, Mom!)

-witherow

P.S. I’m not sure my mom actually reads my blog.

Oh, and Eunice is a spider.

Once upon a time the Park family went to the magical island of Hilton Head for a much-needed vacation. Because this was the Park family, they decided not to take normal pictures and instead focus on the adventures of a little sock monkey who came along with them.

The journey to the island was a long one and took place in a Honda CR-V that was a little small for four twenty-something girls and their mother. So while Mom drove and Becky whined about people poking her and Emily read a book about visual impairment and Heidi mastered a book of Sudoku puzzles and Molly read some theological book and longed desperately for her French dictionary even though she doesn’t speak French, Sock Monkey tried to find a safe place to hang out without Heidi squishing him between the car roof and the sun visor (which, tragically, happened at least once). When Sock Monkey and the Parks arrived at the slightly skuzzy Metropolitan Hotel, they were confused by this sign on the window leading out to the half-foot-wide balcony:

Apparently the hotel owners wanted them to know that yes, it is “legal to have owl on railing.” Sock Monkey wondered if they had accidentally ended up at Hogwarts. The Parks’ best guess was that at one time the lettering had said “Illegal to have towel on railing.” This dilapidation of the Metropolitan’s signage, coupled with the bug on the mattress pad they received instead of the extra blanket they had asked for, and the blank stare the people at the desk gave Mrs. Park when she asked for some … what was it called? … oh, yeah, SOAP, convinced the Park family to find another hotel for the remainder of their trip.

The first evening on the island, Sock Monkey and the Parks went to sit out on the beach as the sun set. It really was beautiful. The next day was also spent at the beach.

Sock Monkey had a great time hanging out with Heidi,

and Becky, who was listening to her Ipod,

and Molly, who was reading some other weird book,

and Mom, who tried to squeeze Sock Monkey’s life out between the pages of a book on corporate leadership (poor Sock Monkey!).

So Sock Monkey decided to hang out by Dr. Seuss-like sandcastle Becky had made by dripping very wet sand into globs.

Like on any vacation, the Parks also had to go shopping. A lot. And find weird stuff to take pictures of. Though nothing could beat last year’s sequined fanny packs and “pickled baloney rope,” this year’s grand prize winner was this solar-powered flashlight.

So if you need the sun to power the flashlight, does it not work in the dark? Emily was greatly confused by this.

Well, so much for that. Back to the beach, where Becky and Molly built Sock Monkey the Grandpappy of all Sandcastles.

It was four stories tall with a drawbridge, a Pit of Death, and multiple wooden spikes to discourage invaders and the nearby drunk frat boys who might try to kick it over.

Sock Monkey approved. Then, after some more adventures, including getting lost and driving around in circles, receiving painful sunburns and eating more highly-caloric food than one family should in one week, Sock Monkey and the Parks returned to the Upstate, where Monkey will happily live out the rest of his days, reflecting on his Adventure of the Grandest Sort and trying not to get squished by more books.

Well, Heidi, now I understand what you’re talking about.

On June 20 to June 21, some friends and I headed down to Sumpter, South Carolina (a place I didn’t even know existed. Apparently it’s about an hour from Columbia). Our mission: run the children’s program for a homeschool convention taking place that weekend.

Here I am with Melissa on Friday morning, all smiles as we get ready to head out.

Mel, Allison and Brian were likewise cheerful.

It seems only Kevin, here looking armed and dangerous (with a SuperSoaker) had any idea of what we were getting ourselves into.

After arriving in Sumpter and setting up the stage and making approximately 63 gallons of instant lemonade, the children began coming. And coming. And coming. It was kind of like in the old movie The King and I when that goofy music is playing and the dozens of royal children keep coming in, except there was no music and they weren’t Siamese and they didn’t have those goofy hats. But other than that it was the same.

We tried to keep the 97 children at bay with puppet shows and songs and Bible stories and outdoor games. But it wasn’t quite enough. Things got to their lowest point about 3 hours into the program, at the dreaded craft time.

150 pipe cleaners.

97 children.

6 adults.

2 bottles of glue.

Let the madness begin.

Here Mel, me and Allison demonstrate how we all felt at this time.

After that, we had a short (very short) break. By that time the rest of our party came, bringing the adult count to 10, and we figured out how to get a little better organized. Things went a little more smoothly after that.

Karen takes over checking kids in and out.

Puppets Elmer and Ralph were always a big hit. Even when Ralph coughed up a puppet frog out of his throat and showed it to all the kids. Later he coughed up a puppet alligator. (By the way, Brian Tojdowski, you have a twisted imagination.)

During Fun Night, Kevin performed some amazing magic—I mean, illusion—tricks (which were pretty amazing—how does he do that?), and we also had skit time.

Here, in the classic “Superheroes Who Never Made It” gag, Say-Everything-Twice-Man (played by Allen) fails to stop the thug (played by Todd) from stealing the money from the hapless victim (me).

After the children left on Friday night, the group split up and spent the night in host homes. Allison, Mel and I were treated to a beautiful cabin home that our host himself had built for his family.

Here’s the room I stayed in. Floors, walls, ceilings—throughout the entire house, everything was beautiful stained wood. I can’t get over how amazing the whole thing was.

On Saturday, we geared up for another day. We played water games, did more crafts, fed the children snacks, did puppets and illusions and skits, then went out and played more water games, did more crafts, fed them more snacks …

Lorna (in green) led the outdoor games. Yes, the bullhorn at her side was necessary.

Here Allison, me, Brian and Todd perform the infamous Rhyming Song.

“The stars are twinkling in the sky,

The Rhyming Song, the Rhyming Song

There’s no hot water in my hotel!

Uh … the Rhyming Song??”

And then, at last, the children (some of whom we actually had become somewhat fond of) all went away. And there was much rejoicing!

Well, it was kind of a subdued rejoicing, because none of us had any energy left to exert on such frivolity. We were lucky to drag ourselves to the restaurant.

After stuffing ourselves at Outback Steakhouse and drinking all the water and sweet tea we could manage, we all piled into our respective cars and prepared for the two-hour trip back to Greenville. I guess we could have thought that one through a little better.

Actually, the trip back was fine. Blessings on Allison’s head for not only driving us back, but actually staying awake the whole time. This is not something we take for granted.

And the country we were going through was absolutely gorgeous.

Finally relieved from our duties, and enjoying the pleasure of sitting and resting in the car, there was only one problem. Every time I tried to close my eyes all I could see were children, children everywhere, crowding around me and asking me for more glue …

QUESTIONING COWORKER: What is the proper way to abbreviate California?
ME (speaking): Why, according to page 231 of the AP Stylebook, it’s Calif.
ME (thinking): In the grand scheme of life, how does this matter? Somebody please tell me. I am losing my mind.

Don’t get me wrong. I can who-versus-whom as well as the rest of them, but being expected to speak in perfect grammar at all times and yet not sound like Professor Bunsen Honeydew is a bit tricky. So I have to be careful. When that doesn’t work, I have to resort to fudging.

For example, one day my friends and I were emailing back and forth about going out for pizza.

ME
Yes, let’s. They have some really good desert pizza tonight.

[I know, I know—I struggle with the spelling of desert vs. dessert. So sue me.]

SMART ALECKY FRIENDS
Um, don’t you think desert pizza will be a little … dry? I think you mean dessert pizza.

[Okay, time to fudge.]

ME
Um, if I had meant dessert pizza, I would have written dessert pizza. I mean they have desert pizza. It’s made with cactus juice and roadrunner pepperoni. DUH!

MY FRIENDS
Eww …

And then there’s the tricksy good-versus-well issue. Most people can answer the question “How are you doing?” with a simple “good.” But not so with grammar gurus. Alas, we are held to a different standard.

FRIEND
How’s the Emily?

ME
The Emily’s doing good.

FRIEND
Don’t you mean you’re doing well?

ME (fudging)
No. I mean I’m actually doing good. You know, like rescuing kittens from trees, recycling, helping octogenarians cross the street … all morning. Good deeds galore. Very busy. Whew. Let’s go eat.

In my defense (or in my desperate attempt to come up with one), English is not an easy language to master. The spelling system is totally whack (and I have historic evidence to prove its whackness. Ask me the next time you’re in the mood for a tirade). The grammar has been tampered with by funny British men in powdered wigs during the 1700s who tried to force Latin rules onto a language that was primarily Germanic/French/Schizophrenic. By schizophrenic I mean that English tries to take on the identity (including pluralization, spelling, and grammar) of several languages at once, usually when you’re writing a paper in a hurry and your spell check is on the blitz. As some insightful guy named James Nicoll said, “English doesn’t borrow from other languages. English follows other languages down dark alleys, knocks them over, and goes through their pockets for loose grammar.”

So tonight I went home to my family’s house, and this is the conversation that transpired:

First of all, Heidi had half a sandwich left over from Denny’s. Molly came home from work and ate it, saying it was regular protocol since Heidi never eats her leftovers.

BECKY: (Running up the stairs): Heidi! Heidi! Go beat Molly up because she ate your sandwich!

HEIDI: I didn’t want my sandwich.

BECKY: Go beat her up! She ate it!

HEIDI: I said she could.

BECKY: No, beat her up!

Molly walks into the room.

HEIDI (suddenly and inexplicably hostile toward Molly): You ate my sandwich!

A few moments later, I heard this conversation as well:

BECKY: Hey, Molly, eat that candle.

MOLLY: No.

BECKY: Carol at the Y said it was edible.

MOLLY: Carol at the Y says a lot of things. No, I won’t eat it.

BECKY: I’ll give you a quarter.

MOLLY: I will if you give me twenty dollars.

BECKY: A quarter. It’s the least you can do after eating Heidi’s sandwich!

So if any of you are wondering why I’m so messed up, this might explain a lot.

This past Saturday was a day full of Adventures of the Grandest Sort. Christy, April and I, along with guide dogs Reba and Winston, went to the Freedom Weekend Aloft festival in Simpsonville. Basically, it’s this big festival to-do revolving around hot air balloons—pretty sweet! Anyway, here is another attempt at photo journalism.

First of all, though, I must say I had a grand morning out with my friends Rebecca, Brian and Stephanie. There are no pictures because I didn’t think to bring my camera to a yard sale (go figure). The yard sales turned out to be a bust, so we went to the farmer’s market and found fascinating things like pickled okra and garlic jelly, as well as some things you would actually eat.

We then went to Saffron’s Indian restaurant and had exotic foods like mango pudding and these cheese balls that had been deep-fried and drenched in honey syrup. You would think this would be the most devastating thing healthwise that I would eat all day, but no, it gets better. (Saffron’s, by the way, is great and I would recommend it.)

Me with a map.

My Simpsonville adventures with Christy and April started out, as most of my adventures with Christy and April do, with me taking a … detour. Yes … let’s call it a detour. A detour that added about 40 minutes to our trip (but hey, at least I got to see downtown Mauldin) (not that I had ever been planning to).

Things got better after that. The balloon festival has rides and crafts and overpriced fair food, so we partook in our share of those. And for the first time in my life, I went up in a Ferris wheel (no, seriously, I had never ridden one before).

Me on the Ferris wheel. Notice the not-freaking-out-like-I-always-thought-I-would expression on my face.

Christy and I went around … and around … and around … and we began to wonder if we had accidentally gotten onto some sort of Wheel of Eternity and would show up on the next rerun of the Twilight Zone. Fifteen minutes later, we made hand signals to the operator guy to let us off!

A view of the fair grounds from the Eternal Wheel.

There is a predominately bubble-gum pink building in the center of this photo. It is a fine vending establishment called “The Sugar Shack.” Pay attention to it, because it becomes important later on in this story.

We then went on some other rides, including one of those bungee bouncers and a giant inflatable slide. Winston and Reba were quite worried to see their moms get strapped into a giant swing and whirled around! I stayed behind and tried to reassure them.

By the way, when Winston gets nervous, he drools. On your pants, if he can. Grin.

Now for the main event … the balloons! It’s really hard to grasp how huge these things are. Pictures don’t really do them justice. In this photo, the tiny people at the bottom of this balloon (near the teal truck) give some sense of how ginormous this thing is.

Off they go! This photo has been brought to you by the letter B and the basic principles of physics.

Then it was our turn. They had tethered balloons that would float about six stories above the ground that paying customers could ride. So after forking over $15 each, Christy, April and I decided to take a spin.

Christy went first. Smile, Christy, you’re in a balloon!

Here’s April in the balloon, all smiles. This is before we took off. Yeah … it was pretty cool.
Then April and I had a turn. The balloon pilot was pretty much amazing and had his wife stand on the ground and call up so April could get a sense of how high we were. As for me, the height actually didn’t scare me at all, which was kind of surprising. Of course, maybe it was because I was too busy taking pictures to think much about it.

As we were floating up above the crowd, it seems I recalled early memories of being inside a balloon basket and watching the pilot run the propane. But I don’t think I ever rode in a hot air balloon as a child. I’ve come to the conclusion that I must have seen an episode about hot air balloons on Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood way, way back in the day, and the camera person must have gotten into the balloon and showed close-ups of all the parts. So now I’m wondering how many other memories I have are things I never actually experienced and were actually just Mr. Rogers. I mean, we did have a miniature train running through our living room at the same time each day, right?

Anyway, after that, like after every Grand Adventure, it was time to eat.

It seems that once upon a time, some carnival workers were standing around and had a contest to see who could come up with the highest-calorie-per-square-atom snack food. One particularly devious worker decided to take an Oreo, smother it in batter, deep-fry it and then sprinkle powdered sugar on top. In honor of him, the three of us went to the aforementioned Sugar Shack and bought deep-fried Oreos … and actually ate them. They tasted good, but I will still be working off those calories in October.

Here I am with said Oreo. It looks kind of like a doughnut hole, but it so isn’t.

One of the last stops were the bumper cars.

CAUTION: Blind women driving!!

And of course, it wouldn’t be a fair if you didn’t have to sit in gridlocked traffic for thirty minutes just to get out. Grin.

Honestly, though, I had a wonderful day and at the end of it I thanked God for so many great friends and for these fun experiences, even those that involve great heights or trans fats.

We went to the outlet stores in Gaffney, South Carolina. That was fun in itself, but even more fun was taking three digital cameras with us and attempting photo journalism while we were there. We didn’t quite get photo journalism, but we did get this:
The cast of characters: Becky, Molly, Heidi, me and my good ol’ purple Saturn.

First stop: the sock store. Yes, in an outlet mall, you may just find an entire store devoted to selling socks.

Becky and Molly were quite thrilled.

Heidi … not so much.

So we went to Kaybee Toys instead. Heidi was much happier there. So happy she hugged a mechanical puppy. (Don’t tell Marzipan!)

We found some unusually large Pokemon. So we took pictures of them. Kawaii!! (That’s Japanese for “sappy big-eyed cuteness”)

I found a My Little Pony! It’s like a blast from the past. (It’s really sad when toys you played with as a kid are now retro). Anywho, this one wears a tutu and dances in a little circle. It’s called “Twirly Twinkle Twirl.” Seriously. I would love to know what goes on in the My Little Pony, Inc. brainstorming meetings. This name probably took like three whole minutes to come up with.

And then we found a T-shirt with a unicorn with a unibrow. Funny, but wrong.

“Wait,” you may be asking. “Is that a water tower in the shape of a giant peach?” Why yes, yes it is. Just more support for my theory that people (in this case, Southerners) are weird.

Okay, Becky, that’s not funny! Well, only kinda funny. <<for those who can’t see it, she’s looking worried about my driving >>