In case I ever need to leave breadcrumbs...

I just went to the freezer to get down some pita bread (I freeze my pita and bread, since I can't eat it fast enough) for my hummus. I was pretty sure I had seen some earlier this week, which is why I bothered buying the hummus. Turns out I was wrong. Instead of a package of pita I found five almost-empty packages of bread with nothing but the heels. FIVE. I don't like to eat them, and I guess I feel bad for throwing them away so I tell myself I'll feed them to the ducks at the lake. I've never gone and fed them to the ducks. For now I think I'll just put them back in the freezer.

Gracias Profesor(a?)

I am overwhelmingly grateful for how patient and kind my Spanish professor is. Seriously, she deserves a medal or something. You see, I am in a Spanish class with several other graduate students who need to pass the same language comprehension exam in order to get our MAs. We're mostly American history and English students, so this language thing is a big pain in our you-know-whats. Luckily, the course is designed especially for us. All we have to do is translate written Spanish into English. "Como estas?" conversations or written assignments that read like a children's book ("el gato es negro y blanco...") are not our concern. Plus, the course is pass/fail or audit only, so we don't even have to hand in assignments.

But what we do have to do is go around in a circle and translate, and it can be tedious. I mean, we're in the class because we don't really know Spanish and we want to learn it in one semester (ha!), and we don't even really want to learn it but we want to graduate. So we go around reading the Spanish text aloud in English, but the professor must correct every other word we say (it seems) and sometimes we just stare at her blankly. I imagine we must be incredibly disappointing. And yet, she is always smiling and understanding. I don't know how she stands it, but I sure am thankful that she does.

Gotcha!

In case you don't know, I'm a little paranoid about bugs. I hate them. I'm scared of them, I have a special bug dance for when they're around, and I want them dead. Not put outside, dead.

Now, I'm not an idiot. If I can get someone else (Grandpa, my mom, a boy, etc.) to kill a bug for me, I will. But sometimes those people aren't around, and that's when I put my brave and determined face on. It's also important to be armed with a flip flop.

Last night there was a spider cricket in my bathroom. A big one. I got my sandal, crouched as close as I dared, and aimed. Unfortunately I missed, and the thing hopped to safety under the sink where I couldn't see it. "I'll get you in the morning," I said, and closed the bathroom door.

This morning I opened the bathroom door cautiously, and there he was, back in his original position. I got my sandal, crouched a little closer, and aimed. I was 0 for 2. He jumped back to his hiding position. "I'll get you when I get home tonight," I said, and closed the bathroom door again.

This evening I opened the bathroom door cautiously, but he was still hiding. Or, you might say, prolonging the inevitable. I simply had to wait.

Five minutes ago he was back. And I was ready. Third time's a charm.

Junior High Style

Today I signed up for a locker at the library. Only graduate students get them, so that's pretty exciting. Actually, I think this makes me a complete nerd. But hey, I don't want to carry heavy books around campus all day on Tuesdays and Thursdays (when I have three classes, plus extra homework to do in between), and I don't want to spend all my time walking to my car (or rental car, sniff) in the parking deck. Unfortunately my locker is the bottom one, and it's small, so you practically have to lay down on the floor to get into it.

I haven't had a locker since junior high. It was orange. No wait, I had a blue locker my freshman year of high school for PE. I was always a little disappointed in the no locker situation in high school, after growing up with Saved by the Bell. Maybe I'm secretly trying to make up for that now. Unfortunately the tiny locker on the floor buried in the stacks of the university library probably isn't going to cut it.

Weekend Review

Friday: Talked on the phone a lot about my car, moped around, took a long nap, and finally did some reading late at night.

Saturday: Walked to the car rental place, ran some errands, read, took a short nap, went to Neomonde for dinner with the girls, drank wine and watched The Office at Jenny's, and went out on Glenwood for drinks and dancing.

Sunday: Slept in, went to church, puttered around, ate a late lunch, read, took a nap, and read more.

Are you kidding me?!

This morning after dealing with car insurance and car rentals and car fixers, I finally decided I should eat something. So I went to the fridge to get some yogurt, and the light in the fridge was out. Then I opened the freezer and noticed that the ice is melting. So now I have the maintenance guy coming to fix my fridge. I'm just grateful I'm a renter and I don't have to pay for this.

*Whew, don't worry, the guy came and fixed the electrical outlet (I guess that was the problem?) and the fridge is up and running again. Now I have to go catch it. Haha, get it? My fridge is running...

Here, let me tell you about my day.

First, I woke up before the sun. Why? you ask. Because on Tuesdays and Thursdays I have a class at 8:30 in the morning, and I gave myself 45 minutes to drive to school and walk across campus. I haven't had a class this early since high school.

Next, I drove to Chapel Hill to buy a book at Borders. Why? you ask. Because my professor submitted the wrong book list and I bought a bunch of the wrong books through Amazon, and one of the books that was not on the list is a book he wants read by next Wednesday, but is not in the bookstore yet, and Borders in Chapel Hill is all I could come up with that had it in stock.

After that I went to my favorite place in Chapel Hill to get a scone and chai and read my women's history book, but then I discovered I bought (again, through Amazon) the third edition when my professor wants the fourth edition, and while that might not matter for some books it definitely matters for this book because I was missing most of the assigned articles.

At three I went to my TA class, which is Early American History. That went fine.

Since we got out early I had time to go to the bookstore on campus and purchase the correct women's history book.

I then had to walk across campus again, through the stifling and sticky North Carolina heat, to my Spanish class. It started fine, but by the end I was tired and she was talking about Spanish grammar and I was thinking to myself "Where am I? How did I end up in this place talking about Spanish grammar? It's like high school again."

When this class finally ended just before 6pm I walked back across campus to my car, thankful that the day was over and I could go home to cool off and eat dinner.

But then.

Then I got in a car accident. And my car was towed away, and I had to call a friend to come pick me up off the side of the road. No joke. I'm fine. I don't know about the car yet.

My friend (Tess) took me to her apartment, since we were all planning to go there and watch The Office later anyway, and she made me dinner and gave me aspirin for my headache, and was a very good friend for picking me up off the side of the road and being so nice about it. She even stood on the super hot sidewalk with me for a long time, where we both got mosquito bites.

After hanging out and watching TV another friend drove me back home, since I don't have a car to drive anymore, and now I am ready for a shower and to fall into bed.

p.s. Let me add that the day really didn't seem so bad while it was happening. Even the accident was fine- I didn't freak out or cry or get upset or anything. Life happens I guess. It's only now, going back through my day, that I realize it was what some might label "a no good very bad day."

whoah

I just realized I haven't had caffeine all day. I don't think that's happened in a very long time.

my personal parade

Last year at the beginning of the school year I was in the parking deck walking to my car when I heard the pep band march by, and I got kind of excited about the idea that I was going to a school with a pep band that walked around campus. Then I never heard the pep band again and I got kind of sad about that. But today they were back! In fact, I had just driven out of the parking deck and was sitting at a stop sign when the whole band decided to dance right by me on the crosswalk. It was like my own personal parade, and it made me smile.

Toods Virginia, Hello North Carolina

Alas, the summer ended and it's back to school for me. I spent the whole weekend hanging out with the grandparents and Uncle Richard, playing Rook and eating like it was going out of style. Sunday I finally packed up and left Richmond after a concert with Grandpa (plus more snacking at home). I arrived in Raleigh around 9:30, unpacked the car, and decided to go ahead and unpack everything in the apartment as well instead of dragging the whole process out over three weeks. Since I was on a late-night roll getting the apartment back in order I also decided to put together my new bookshelf, which turned out excellently. I'll post pictures later when it has books and I've rearranged the pictures on the wall.

Today I had lunch with incoming students, went to a TA meeting, and had another meeting for the history grad student association. Then I had to buy groceries for my empty fridge. Now I'm about to head over to a friends house for movies and pizza.

Let me say this: Lots of the other returning students seemed full of doom and gloom today with the start of a new semester, but so far I'm excited. Sure, I'm sad the summer is over, too, but I can't do anything about that and as long as I'm here I plan on having a good time. (Of course I may be singing a new tune in a few weeks when assignments are due...)

a little bit of this and a little bit of that

I forgot to tell you that my brother Ryan went to the state championship last weekend for his shooting stuff and he won two trophies. Or maybe it was three. But the real excitement is he is the New Mexico Junior Champion! So congrats to him.

More news from New Mexico is that my mom had surgery a little over a week ago on her arm, and in case you don't know she can only use one of her arms and that's the one that was chopped on, so it's kind of a big deal. But she's doing well and she thinks she might even go back to work a little this week, so that's good. This was really the summer of surgery. Remember Grandma and Grandpa? (who are both doing very well!) Well my other grandmother also had surgery on her hand, and Uncle Richard had surgery, too, or at least he was in the hospital for a while. Sheesh.

My grandparents got a new fancy bed last week so they can each adjust their own sides of the bed, and when I was away working on my thesis at a coffee shop they snuck into my room and took my lovely brass bed away and gave me their bed. I was a little bit sad about this, because I don't like change, but really the bed I have now is bigger and very nice. They've had it for years and years. Also, Grandma let me pick out a brand new comforter for it, which was nice. Then she told me I have to come back and get another internship next summer now that she's gone and bought me a new comforter for the room I'm currently moving out of.

Actually, the moving isn't "current" quite yet. People keep asking me if I'm packed yet and when they first asked that I thought "Pack? I didn't even remember I would have to do that!" But it's true, I need to start bagging and boxing up the room so I can stuff it all in my car and move back to Raleigh tomorrow. In the meantime though, I'm going to go take a nap.

If I think it's delicious, it must be. Right?

I realized today that one of the reasons I don't like to cook very often is that I'm always nervous and self-conscious about how others will like my food. I mean, I'll pretty much eat anything, but it turns out lots of other people aren't the same way. I suppose if I'm trying something new for the first time or just making it up as I go I have a pretty good attitude about the whole thing, as some potluck people can attest to when I show up and say "Here ya go, not sure how this will be but I'm cool with it if you are." Instead, the times I'm most nervous are when I'm making something that I love, which probably means making something my mom makes and I've grown up with.

Once in college I made my mom's delicious pizza (with homemade crust and everything!) and put all the usual toppings on it, but the two friends I had over for dinner began picking toppings off their sections of the pie before I even got it in the oven. "Whoah whoah whoah," I said shaking my head in disbelief. "What are you doing? When you eat Andi's pizza, you eat Andi's pizza!"

They say one of the steps of child development is being able to empathize with others and take their thoughts and feelings into account. At least I think that's what "they" say, but I'm no psychologist. Anyway, I think I must not have fully developed in that area when it comes to other people not liking some of the foods I love.

"You don't like Indian? Is that even possible? It's my favorite!"

or

"You don't like sweet potatoes? Are you even American?"

or today's example,

"You don't like my mom's tuna salad? But it has avocado and tomato and egg and sprouts and you eat it in a pita! How can you not like that? It's the best tuna salad there is!"

Sadly, today Grandpa did not enjoy the tuna salad sandwiches I made the way that he should have. Some people, it turns out, just don't know what's good.

There's a reason I will never watch The Birds.

Remember the bird that had the nest in our garage? Well she's been back for a while, and that means I spend as little time in the garage as possible. The bird, you see, is mean. She's a mean bird. She flies around and yells at you. She says "stay away from my nest and eggs," and I yell back "stay away from my garage you mean bird!"

Lately we thought maybe she was gone, since no one had seen her for a few days and there don't seem to be babies in the nest. I was hoping she was gone today when I went out to the garage fridge for a Coke. I peeked in the door and looked in, guarding my eyes with my hands against the possibility of a beak assault. Instead of seeing her, however, I saw a hummingbird. Ugh. Maybe you think they're cute, but hummingbird shmummingbird, why can't they just stay away? I opened the big garage door in hopes the hummingbird would fly out, and when it seemed to just sit still by the fluorescent light (which I turned off, also in hopes it would fly away) I decided to brave the garage anyway and grab my soda. Of course right when I entered was the moment the mean bird came flying out! Agghh! The place has gone to the birds.

Weekend Review

Friday: Went for a run, ate lunch with the grandparents, took a long nap, went to a movie, and puttered around for the rest of the night.

Saturday: Read, went for a run, drove all over town and finally ate dim sum with the grandparents, took a long nap, happy hour with the grandparents, and did some thesis research.

Sunday: Chatted with Allison, did some thesis research, ate lunch with the grandparents, walked through the Watermelon Festival and then all over the Museum District, went to church, ate with church peeps at Joe's Inn, and more puttering.

morning announcement

This morning I went downstairs to scrounge up some breakfast. I'd decided on eggs in a frame, and it was as I was flippin' my frame on the stove that Grandpa came in with an announcement.

"This afternoon we have an appointment at 4:10."

"An appointment?" I replied, "what kind of an 'appointment?'"

"We're going to see The Bourne Ultimatum. Grandma and I haven't been to the movies since we moved here."

And sure enough, at 4:10 the three of us went to The Bourne Ultimatum.

As we walked in Grandpa asked if we wanted popcorn. Grandma said she didn't want it right then, but maybe she'd want it later.

"What do you mean you'll want it later?" I asked.

"You know, maybe in the middle we'll come get popcorn."

"Uh uh," I said. "You don't leave a movie in the middle for popcorn. You'll miss the movie! It's now or never."

So Grandpa got the popcorn (and drinks).

After the six previews were finally over Grandpa said (a little too loudly) "It's about time." He also leaned over during the film to *whisper* "I wish they'd learn to keep the darned camera still," and after the movie ended he declared (again, a little too loudly) "Well, that was a lousy movie."

So maybe The Bourne Ultimatum wasn't their style (even though they'd seen one or two of the other ones), but we all had a good time. We also left the theater with popcorn crumbs on every one of our shirts, though mine, of course, had the least.

Time flies when you're having fun.

The summer is coming to an end, and yesterday was the last day of my ten week internship. In addition to the lunch and gift I got on Monday, the rest of the archives staff threw an ice cream social for me yesterday. They also gave me a very nice card complete with bug stickers on the envelope. Apparently I made a reputation for myself for hating bugs. And to top the party off, they gave me a framed collage of the Virginia governor whose papers I worked on all summer. The whole thing was very nice and exciting.

Yesterday morning I finished my section of the collection, so for the rest of the day I got to go through an older collection of letters from the late 19th to early 20th century. It was fun to work with a different sort of collection (mine was from the 1970s-80s), even if only for a few hours.

The people at my internship were really good about showing me around and letting me get a feel for different kinds of archival work. Overall I had a great time there. They kept making jokes at my ice cream party about how I must be glad to finally be getting out of there, and I kept having to say "You don't understand! I really do like it here! I go home and tell people the exciting stuff I get to do!"

So I'm going to miss it. And now I have to enter the uncomfortable transition period between work in Richmond and school in Raleigh...

It's a dirty job, and you have to stay organized.

A few weeks ago my uncle was helping my cousin work on his truck, and somewhere along the way he cut his hand. "Now I'm a real mechanic again!" he said. That was when my cousin held up his scarred hand and said "Look at this- I'm a plumber and I get cut all the time." Then I jumped in. "I'm an archivist, and I can get a mean paper cut."

No my friends, the world of archives is not as quaint and bookish as you might imagine. Take today, for example. An eighteen-wheeler dropped off two palates piled high with old boxes and filing cabinets full of papers, and I helped to rebox and move them on the hot loading dock. Well, we started to rebox and move them until we noticed bugs, and not dead bugs but moving live bugs. And I got red rot all over my clothes, which I had to blot out with tape in hopes it won't stain. So that was pretty exciting.

Today was also my last day working with the woman who has led my project all summer. As a treat she took me to lunch to celebrate. She also presented me with a cute gift bag. She noticed that I went through a ton of post-it notes this summer, because they help me stay organized. Apparently not everyone uses as many post-it notes as I do, and she was amused. As the supportive person that she is, she wanted to help me out with future archival projects and with my thesis work, so she gave me quite the assortment of brand new post-its. She thought she was being funny but I'm already planning how I will put these babies to use.

weekend review

Friday: Up early to take my car to the shop, then back home for Grandma's delicious scones. Went for a run, then had grilled tuna steaks for lunch. We also had sliced avocado so between the scones, tuna, and avocado I had three of my favorite foods before noon (we ate early). Went to the eye doctor to get a new prescription for my blind eyes and ran a few other errands, including getting a new bookshelf for my apartment. Looked at terrariums at First Friday with Sam and got a delicious beer afterwards (that makes four of my favorite foods in one day! Oh, and I ate pistachios, so that makes FIVE!)

Saturday: Went for a run, then out to a new Mexican restaurant for lunch. It was better than some, but still not quite what we're looking for. Drove to Raleigh and checked on my apartment (no leaks or bug problems!), then went to a cookout at Ryan and Erin's house. Didn't win the limbo competition, dance competition, or raffled door prizes.

Sunday: Slept in some, then drove back to Richmond. Went to a really great chamber music concert with Grandpa. Home to work on the crossword and take a nap on the couch. Now a little puttering before bed.

I guess I won't be taking us to the beach.

Today Grandma gave me a small flier with details on how to go online and find out if she won a sweepstakes. The prize is $25,000 a year for life. I won't tell you the details because everyone knows that sharing info on large prizes with friends means lessening your own chance of winning, and apparently I'm not that nice. Anyway, being the smart Grandma that my Grandma is, she decided it would be better to enter the contest under my name so the "for life" part will last a little longer (barring any horrible unforeseen circumstances, of course). We started to plan out how we would split the prize, since she got the flier but it is under my name. Grandpa said I could have it all as long as I took them to the beach every year, but I said maybe I should just get $5,000 a year and they can keep the rest. I think we all agreed that was a good plan.

Alas.

I still have a few days to keep trying for a $10,000 award and daily prizes, but we did not win $25,000 for life. Looks like we'll have to find some other way to get to the beach.

stamped: return to sender

I'm a disaster.

As you probably already know, my apartment is in Raleigh. I, however, am in Richmond, and have been in Richmond all summer. But you know what goes to apartments? Mail. I mean, mail goes lots of places, but my mail happens to go to my apartment. My mail is usually not very exciting. Forests of trees-turned-fliers-and-coupons generally fill my box, but a few important things come, too.

Now, ordinarilly when someone leaves her apartment for the summer she makes sure to deal with the mail situation. Maybe she has her mail forwarded, or has the post office hold it. Maybe she even has a friend check her mail every once in a while.

But me? I didn't do any of the above. I thought I would be going down there a lot more often during the summer and I could just empty the box every once in a while. Then unforeseen things happened around here and I didn't get away much. Yet even when that turned out to be the case, I still neglected to deal with the mail situation. I pretended that my teeny tiny mail box grew to the size of a locker in my absence and continues to be a happy receptacle for my mail.

The truth, however, is that after the box became crammed full the post office was nice enough to hold my mail for thirty days, and after thirty days was up (at least a month ago) they began to return my mail. It's all gone. A friend checked yesterday and all that's left is a dang flier.

Ugh.