Goodbye to my blue-eyed Paul.

In the tenth grade I enrolled in a basic drama course at school. I'm pretty terrible at acting, so I don't know why I wanted to spend a semester in the class, but I did. One of our assignments was to memorize a monologue and recite it for the rest of the class. I don't remember how I found mine. Actually, I think the teacher loaned me a book of monologues and I picked it out from there. Anyway, I of course don't remember it now but the gist of it was a girl (me) gets in an elevator and discovers Paul Newman standing next to her and she sort of freaks out on the inside over how awesome it is to be in an elevator with the dreamy Paul Newman.

About this time (the tenth grade, or at least I think it was the tenth grade) I also joined the Speech Team. I'm not sure why I did that either. I think it was because I had friends doing it, too. I bet I was also trying to join random things so I could get into college. Anyway, I joined the Speech Team and the only thing I really remember doing for it was going around reciting this Paul Newman monologue. And of course I never won anything, because I'm not good at acting. And at one particular event I was so nervous I even messed up and had to start over three times. That's incredibly embarrassing. I don't know why I'm sharing this with the internet.

The whole point of this ridiculous post is to share the time I discovered who Paul Newman was, because even though I'd heard his name before my monologuing days I didn't know what he looked like or in what movies he had starred. So my dad pointed him out on a jar of spaghetti sauce, and then I saw Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. That was when I discovered who he was. I also felt like I had this special relationship with him, as if I really had been in an elevator with the hunky blue-eyed man. And that means I have a special place in my heart for him, and I'm therefore a little sad to learn of his passing. Farewell Mr. Newman.

Don't worry.

I'm alive. And well. But internet access is still a problem, at least for things like blogging. So please be patient. And curse Verizon.

work may be hazardous to my health

There seems to be a very real chance that I will develop Black Lung at work. Every day I have to wear latex gloves to do my work, and by the end of the day they are coated in coal dust. Sometimes I sneeze a lot. Occasionally my snot looks like the snot of someone who has spent all day in subway stations. If I develop a cough I may have to wear a mask, and then I will feel like a freak at the office. I don't want that.

quick update

I moved. Last night was the first night I actually slept in my new place. It's coming along. I can't wait for all the empty boxes to go away and clear up space. I also can't wait for my own internet. And a rug. I'll post pictures later when it's all put together.

mooooving

Well the movers finally got my stuff into the apartment and nothing was broken or wet, so that's great. Now, however, my apartment is a royal mess. Thankfully I get to keep staying at my grandparents' house until the new place is livable. This afternoon the furniture arrived and then I spent hours and hours cleaning. I scrubbed the kitchen and the bathroom and it took so long and was so tiring I'm about to collapse. Judy and Sunni came and helped get the kitchen ready. There's still tons to do though, and the most annoying part is that the landlord hasn't finished painting yet. He still has to do the baseboards and door and window frames. So I can't even arrange furniture because everything is in the middle of the rooms. I'll be happy when it's all done and everything is arranged and pictures are hung on the walls and I have rugs and all the furniture I need.

If it's not one thing it's the other.

This is moving weekend, but if you live in the area or if you've heard anything about the tropical storm that is "approaching hurricane status" on this side of the country you know this is not ideal moving weather. But I shouldn't be surprised, because none of my moving plans have held up so far.

All of my stuff from my apartment (minus clothes and the few things I have now at my grandparents' house in Richmond) is in two portable storage boxes in Raleigh. If I had moved to Chapel Hill as planned everything would have worked out great, because they would have delivered my boxes to the new place at no extra cost. But moving them three hours away to Richmond? That costs your firstborn child. So I moved onto plan two (after much fretting and even some crying) which switched from going down to Raleigh myself and renting a truck and bringing all my stuff up north to instead hiring someone to go down and bring all my stuff up for me in their own truck. Plan two was supposed to take place over Labor Day weekend.

When the landlord called and said the old tenant had a change of plans and wouldn't be moving out until Labor Day weekend, I fretted again. But my moving guy gladly switched the date to the next week -Saturday- and plan three seemed just fine. Until Hanna showed up.

The storage place in Raleigh has already decided to close shop tomorrow because of the weather. If it weren't for me having the nicest moving guy ever, I probably wouldn't be moving until next weekend. Instead, nicest moving guy ever is currently implementing plan four by braving the storm in North Carolina to move my stuff tonight, and he'll keep it dry in his truck until the weather clears and he can move it into my apartment.

Let's hope plan four doesn't fail me.

She works hard for the money.

Yesterday I started my "real" job at the same place I've been working all summer as an intern. They made the intern table and computer into my table and computer, plus another desk. However, in an effort to make things cozier for myself and feel more like I have a "real" job and less like I'm still an intern, I might decide to move some of the tables around. We'll see. You know what's exciting about a "real" job? A full hour for lunch, that's what.

In other news, I move into my new apartment this weekend. That should be exciting.

godbaby

Guess who is a proud Godmother?! That would be me.



On August 15 my cousin Jay and his wife Janelle had a baby, Jay Robert IV, aka Bobby. Since I was in Santa Fe for two weeks I didn't get to meet him until Saturday. He. is. so. cute.

As a godmother I've decided I have the right to buy the awesome gifts, like puzzle maps of the United States and fun flash cards about presidents. I will make this kid a history lover. Or at least an appreciator. Or maybe he will be a science kid and want a microscope or chemistry set. And if all of that fails the kid better at least enjoy miniature golf, because we will do that, too.