saturday with my sidekicks

Saturday started with a trip to the Clinique counter at Macy’s so I could purchase some Dramatically Different Moisturizing Gel.  This miracle in a jar has been part of my skin care regimen for the last six years, but I was fresh out on Saturday and OH THE DRAMA that would surely arise if I didn’t replenish my stock in time for my bedtime application.  I would be paying the skincare piper for days.  DAYS.  

 As I got my wallet out to pay with cash money, the woman behind the counter asked me if I would like to open a Macy’s credit card and save twenty percent on my purchase!  When I politely declined she asked again, this time with added emphasis on the fact that I could save! twenty! percent!  Listen, if I am going to open up a credit card just to save twenty percent on a purchase - that purchase is going to be something more along the lines of a speedboat or diamond tiara a la Kate Middleton.  Not a jar of moisturizer.  

After round two of her pitch, the woman got quiet, looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Wait, are you even 18 years old?”  

My mom promises me that there will come a day when I will be overjoyed if someone thinks I am five years younger than I really am, but Saturday was not that day.  So I just put on my best 22 year old, I’M TOTALLY MATURE AND FULL OF WISDOM AND BY THE WAY, ALMOST TWENTY THREE smile and said, “Yes, I am” and handed over twenty five dollars.  

When I first started using this moisturizer it cost $18.00, and now it costs $24.50.  I think the secret ingredient in the moisturizer is INFLATION.  At this rate I will be paying a pretty penny for some D.D.M.G. by the time I am eighty years old.  Although I’ll look like I’m only seventy five, and really, that is something that you just cannot put a price on.

After Macy’s Emily and I continued on our retail journey with a trip to Ikea.  I like to describe my relationship with Ikea as rocky at best.  You know - when I’m asked to describe my relationship with it.  Which happens approximately, oh, NEVER.  However, I do blame the downfall of Philadelphia’s Thanksgiving Day parade on Ikea’s sponsorship.  Also, they tend to sell lamps that require bulbs that only exist in China, which is convenient if you live in China but not so much the eastern region of the United States.

When Em and I arrived at Ikea we were giddy with a successful trip on a limited access highway and decided to celebrate at the snackbar, where we ordered two giant slices of pizza and two large drinks.  Just $4.00 for all that and a bag of (Swedish) chips.  It’s safe to say that Ikea is working its way back into my heart one bargain priced slice of pizza at a time.  

Emily and I went to the drink machines to fill our cups and I decided that I wanted milk, because, well, I love it.  I put my cup under the little spout and pushed the button, and the milk started coming out in a teeny tiny little dribble.  I waited there watching the milk trickle ever so slowly into my cup while Emily got a table and started her pizza.  I glanced back at her a few minutes later and the look she had on her face can only be translated to TOTAL DISGUST.  In an attempt to lighten her mood I said, “Hey Em! It probably would have been faster for me to just find a farm and go milk a cow there! You know?!”  My attempt was futile and she said, “Laura, that milk is for the COFFEE.  You are SO EMBARASSING.”  

I guess I got a little excited about the opportunity for a nice cardboard cup of delicious snack bar milk and didn’t realize I was at the coffee section of the drink counter.  But there I was, right in the midst of the coffee mate and the sugar.  I would hate to inflict further embarrassment on Emily, so my tablespoon of lukewarm milk and I joined her at the table where we ate our pizza in peace and harmony.

When we got home from Ikea I laid down on my bed and took a nap because all that shopping was exhausting and I am, after all, TWENTY TWO. After my nap Matt and I hit the casino, because nothing says Happy Saturday like thirty dollars, some slot machines, and sky high expectations.  

Actually, I had gone to a casino in Atlantic City for the first time a few weeks ago, and came home $112.31 richer.  Ever since, Matt's been wanting to test his beginner’s luck.  And as soon as we walked through the casino doors, I was intercepted by security and carded, and then a bright orange bracelet was taped around my wrist for reasons I am still unsure of.  It was probably code for “EVEN THOUGH SHE DOESN’T LOOK IT, THIS GIRL REALLY IS OLD ENOUGH TO BE HERE.”  

Matt kept saying that the more money he won, the fancier the restaurant we would go to afterwards.  He had his hopes set on a large, expensive steak, and I was dreaming of a restaurant with cloth napkins. Bring on the fancy.

Well,… 

 

 We had sandwiches for dinner.

 And the cashier at the sandwich shop didn’t even offer us a credit card or twenty percent off. 

 Although, she didn’t card me either.  Silver lining.

i am a phan of physics and the phillies

Matt and I went to the baseball game on Friday evening.  On the drive down I took a few pictures of the skyline, as I do every single time I drive down I-95.  You just never know when a new skyscraper will appear, and I would hate for this scenic view to go undocumented.  

When Matt picked me up, he brought a new Phillies shirt that he got for me to wear to the game.  It was a Cliff Lee shirt, and about thirty seconds after I took this lovely photo of I-95 at rush hour I turned to Matt and said, “So, what position is Cliff Lee?”  He took a long, deep breath, collected his patience and said, “He’s. Our. Pitcher.”  And then he probably wondered whether or not he could just let me camp out on the side of 95 and pick me up on the way home from the game because WHAT KIND OF PHILLIES PHAN AM I?  

 As we got close to the ballpark, I became to get a wee bit apprehensive about Matt’s parking plans, since last time we had a bit of a run in with the long arm of the parking authority.  Matt was at a game earlier this week and apparently parking was $15, and Friday night it was $25.  Well, Matt was not going to fall victim to such a tricky weekend price gauging scheme.  As we drove around in search of alternative/cheaper/still safe and well lit parking, we happened to pass by the scene of the crime from July of oh ten.

It appears that despite Matt's suggestion, the Philadelphia Parking Authority has not yet installed additional signs that clarify "PARKING = STOPPING."  

Perhaps that's on the agenda for July.

We ended up parking in the lot of a church on the next block for only ten American dollars.  It was a win-win really, because the money was going to the church as opposed to those tricky parking lot guys, and we figured the car was probably extra safe spending the evening in a holy parking lot.

When we got inside the park I immediately bought a Schmitter sandwich.  I will admit that at the sky high price of $9.50, it was about $6.50 more than I would normally spend on a sandwich.  However, this particular sandwich not only features every type of deli meat you can imagine, but is covered with a special dressing that words cannot describe.  I may or may not dream about it.

 

As the innings ticked by, I threw out the occasional "COME ON" or "LET'S GO!" but I will admit that I was completely fascinated by the fact that the pitchers threw (pitched?) those baseballs at a speed faster than I have ever driven my car.  Either they are supernaturally strong, or I need to pick it up a little bit on the highway.

Matt appeared very interested in the game, so I was a little bit surprised when he looked at me in the middle of the third inning and said, “Ok, I have a serious question.”  This is an introduction he uses multiple times a week, and the serious question that follows is usually something like “Which do you like better – M&Ms or Reese’s Pieces?”  So, basically, ULTRA SERIOUS.

This time he continued with, “If you shot one bullet out of a gun, and dropped one bullet from your hand to the ground AT THE EXACT SAME TIME YOU ARE SHOOTING THE GUN, which do you think would hit the ground first?”  

Baseball with a side of physics.  What a combination.

I will be honest.  Until that moment, I had never given that particular situation a second of thought.  Nor have I ever held a gun or bullet, let alone shot a firearm or dropped a bullet from my side and paid any sort of attention to the subsequent free fall.

I figured it was some sort of trick question, so I chose the gun.  Matt responded, “What would you say if I told you that you were wrong?”  And I said, "I would absolutely believe you because my answer was pretty much a SHOT in the dark."  

Oh, I am clever.

Matt then enthusiastically explained that both bullets would hit the ground at the exact same time because horizontal motion has no effect on gravity.  Or something like that.  It was actually very interesting and as soon as I verify the accuracy of the explanation I am going to file it away because you never know when you might need to impress someone with that sort of scientific information.  My 11th grade physics teacher would be so proud.  Although there is a good chance he taught us that junior year and I just don't recall, in which case I will overcompensate my forgetfulness with an abundance of knowledge in the realm of maximum velocity.  I remember that concept vividly because my teacher demonstrated it by walking us around the school and dropping bowling balls from various heights.

Anyway, the game continued on after our physics discussion, and eventually the Phillies ended up winning 7-5.  There were a few tense moments and LOTS of clapping and cheering and after a particularly exciting grand slam.  Not to be confused with graham slam, the ice cream flavor.  

Although, I do cheer and clap for that too.

P.S. - No parking ticket. :)

my favorite part is the seventh inning stretch

Matt and I are going to the Phillies game tonight.

We have gone to many a Phillies game together, and have the pictorial evidence to prove it.

 This picture is from the first one we ever went to.  My apologies to Matt's upper left forehead.  It didn't seem to make it into any of the pictures.

 

 But look!  It appears that Matt always sits on the right side of me which makes sense because he is, after all, my right hand man.

Anyway, there are two games that stand out to me as the most memorable.

One of those games is the first we went to together, and it was way back in ye olden days of 2007.  It was the Phillies’ 10,000^th loss, and made them the losingest team baseball.  And for that matter, all professional sports.  Ever.  Everywhere.  Goooo Phillies!

I feel the need to preface the rest of this story by saying that I grew up in a college football home.  Saturday afternoons were filled with FUMBLEEEE and INNNN-TER-CEPPPPTION and occasionally, PICKED OFFFFF.  Baseball was on our TV approximately NEVER.  On the other hand, Matt is the Phillies’ number one fan. 

So, my roommate from college was visiting and the three of us went to a Phillies game.  Our seats happened to be in the very top row, a tidbit which has nothing to do with the narrative progress of this story, but sticks out in my memory because we could not have been further from the action.  It was about the middle of the second inning when I asked Matt who our batter was.  He seemed a bit confused by my inquiry, so I told him that I knew who our pitcher was, and our catcher, but I would like to know the name of the batter for the Phillies.

I had NO IDEA that everyone took turns batting.  I just figured there was one assigned batter.  Like in football.  A quarterback doesn’t complete a pass in one play and then switch to playing linebacker in the next.  He has one job.  Apparently, ‘tis not the case in baseball. 

The funny thing is that Matt and I weren’t technically dating at this point in time.  We were actually, as my parents referred to it, “non-dating.”  So, the fact that he still chose to go down that relationship road after he knew my baseball knowledge was basically nonexistent is especially meaningful.  Clearly I must have won him over with my sense of humor and sweet rapping skillz.

Holla.

The other memorable game is one that we went to was last season.  Smack dab in the middle of July, on the hottest day in the history of Philadelphia.  It was 106 degrees.  Fahrenheit.  Obviously the perfect day to sit under the blazing sun in the ballpark packed with 43,999 of your closest friends with NARY A BREEZE TO SPEAK OF.  I have never been so hot in my entire life.  And probably never will be again.  It was disgusting.  I can’t tell you if the Phillies won or lost, or even who they played.  But I can tell you that by inning numero two I had pretty much HAD. IT. with all the heat and went to stand by the pizza ovens and grills to cool off a little bit.  However, we stayed until the bitter, hot end because, despite the temperatures, Matt was determined to remain the Phillies’ number one fan, heat stroke or not.

To add insult to injury, or flame to the proverbial fire, as it were, Matt insisted on the drive to the stadium that he knew of a great, secret parking spot, and the best part about it was that it was free and we wouldn’t have to pay twenty American dollars to park in the stadium lots because that is just HIGHWAY ROBBERY.  Not to mention that twenty dollars could buy you a soda and half a soft pretzel inside the ballpark.  It amazes me that people are UP IN ARMS at $20 parking, but they will walk inside and gladly pay $13 for a lukewarm hot dog made from questionable meat product.

Anyway, it turns out that Matt’s top secret parking spot was on the main road in front of the ballpark directly underneath a giant NO STOPPING sign.  I learned early on in our relationship that when Matt is behind the wheel, he doesn’t especially enjoy my continuous advice and/or suggestions regarding all things driving.  I can’t imagine why.  However, when I realized he was planning to park under that NO STOPPING sign, I just had to throw in my two cents and advise that perhaps we should cough up the twenty bucks, because a ticket and/or towing fee was sure to be more than twenty dollars.  What ensued was Matt parking beneath the sign and a somewhat lengthy debate about whether or not parking was considered stopping in the eyes of the Philadelphia Parking Authority.  I’m sure you can guess who was on what side.  Turns out the Parking Authority does categorize parking as stopping, and punishes those who disagree with a hefty fine!

Matt considered fighting it, but as rock and roll tells us, “Matt fought the parking authority, and the parking authority won.” 

So, in a few hours Matt and I will be headed down to the stadium.  I don’t know if the Phillies will win or lose, but I do know for certain that we will be parking in the assigned lots.  

And that I will ask Matt what time kickoff and/or halftime is.  It's not a baseball game until I throw in a few football terms.

i don't think they have enough glitter

I am a big fan of shoes, and I hardly ever meet a pair I don't like.  And I never, ever meet a pair I don't understand.

However, I think I have met my match in terms of footwear comprehension...

I think the semicircular gold plastic heel is where these shoes lose me.

Now, this?

This is a shoe I understand.

where there's a will there's a way. but not necessarily many assets.

Well, it looks like it’s been one whole week since I’ve written anything.

That’s not exactly true, because I did compose a LENGTHY post detailing the events of my Memorial Day weekend but I chose not to publish it because while I was proofreading I made it about three paragraphs in before I decided to see if I could find some paint to watch dry.  Or perhaps some grass I could watch grow.  It was that bad.

It’s not that my weekend itself was boring.  In fact, I was basically NON STOP BUSY all three days.  It’s just that a story about how I changed my clothes from winter to summer and then rearranged my closet (by color! and length!) doesn’t exactly make for spellbinding reading material.  

Although picking my outfits each morning has become A SNAP.   

It was actually a great weekend.  Matt took me out to dinner on Saturday night, which always spells Big Fun in my book.  We had a wonderful time except for a few rather tense moments that occurred after I declined the waitress’ offer of soup - specifically minestrone and two others whose names I can’t remember.  When she walked away I looked at Matt, and he was sitting there with an expression of shock on his face and his mouth open so wide I didn’t think it could go any wider.  Matt is Italian, and apparently declining a bowl of minestrone is JUST CRIMINAL in his opinion.  Then I broke the news that I don’t particularly enjoy soups with clear broths.  Or for that matter, any whose names don’t start with words “cream of…” 

Guess what.  After Matt picked his chin up off the table he still took me to Joanne’s Fabrics after dinner so I could look at interfacing.  What a guy.

The next night Matt came to our house for dinner, and after we ate I found myself staring an opportunity for a trip to Wal Mart square in the face.  We went, because, hello, when do I ever pass up a chance to travel to the land of the roll back?  I got the Brad Paisley CD and Matt bought two boxes of fireworks.  He literally stopped in his tracks in front of the display.  He is powerless in the face of well marketed combustibles. 

I imagine it’s similar to how I feel in front of a lip gloss display.  Especially ones that have the words “diamond” or “sparkle” or “shimmer” in them.  And if they have all three?  Oh my, well that’s just the jackpot lipgloss trifecta, a little piece of heaven that I cannot resist.  Anyway, off we went, country music CD and a box of colorful explosives in hand. 

Pennsylvania has a law about not selling fireworks that actually blast off from the ground.  Something about our lawmakers wanting residents’ hands and heads and arms to stay attached to their bodies.  Nonetheless, these ground dwelling fireworks were pretty impressive, and our neighbor even came onto his deck and cheered and clapped at the end.

Our neighbor is five. 

But as the saying goes, “the enjoyment of fireworks is boundless, for it knows no age.”

Or maybe I just made that up.

Either way, here we are several hundred words later and I am just recreating the problem I tried to avoid the other day.  Meaning HELLO, UNEXCITING DETAILS. I’ll quickly say that the rest of my weekend was made up of swimming, shopping, and washing my car.  And taking it to the gas station for some heavy duty vacuuming because WHOA BOY, a few months worth of crumbs from snacks on the go SURE CAN ACCUMULATE.  And then almost losing my keys mid-vacuum.  And then finding them.  And then spending hour on the phone with HP tech support.  So like I said, riveting.

This week, I had school every night.  Last night’s class was a bit of a challenge to get through, but the classes the other two nights went by lightning fast.  On Wednesday I had my estates and trusts class, and we learned that there are a few reasons people don’t make wills.  I will present the reasons in a convenient list format:

1-      They don’t care what happens to their things after they die.  They will be dead.

2-      They think they are invincible/don’t like to think about dying.

3-      They don’t think they have any assets.

After we got through the lecture, our professor told us that throughout the course of the semester we were going to write our own practice/fake wills, and the first step was to list our assets.  Well, do you know how long it takes a bunch of 22 year olds to list their assets?  About seventeen seconds.  Put me down for category 3!!

Our professor told us that we could leave class early and go home and think about what else we could possibly list.  I sat down at my desk and stared at my notebook page for about five minutes.  It looked like this:
 

1-      Pearl Necklace

Period.  The end.

My life insurance policy is enough for my family to send me out in style in the unfortunate event of my untimely death.  But other than that?  I don’t have much in the way of expensive worldly possessions and/or money.  And I’m okay with that- it’s just that it presents one heck of a challenge when making up your will. 

By the time I shut my notebook and called it an assignment, my list looked like this:

1-       Pearl necklace

2-       iPod

Now I’m thinking that it’s going to be totally lame to go to class on Wednesday and report that my legacy will be a pearl necklace and an iPod evident of someone with an eclectic, yet questionable taste in music.

I think I need to add a few things.  Like my new Brad Paisley CD or my closet full of clothes.  

After all, they are organized by color!  And length!

Happy Friday!

holla

 December 1, 2010.  The day I saved three documents as HOLLA, HOLLABACK, and hollaHOLLA.

I have no explanation.

our day in the city of the large red fruit

When Emily and I do the dishes together, there's no question that at some point I will end up performing an enthusiastic rendition of Frank Sinatra's New York, New York.  I can't explain it.  It's like somewhere between the silverware and the frying pan my Big Apple dream breaks free in the form of a classic 1979 song.

Well, on Saturday I went to New York City and that little dream of mine became a reality.

I was offered a role in a Broadway show!!

Just kidding!  There are actually two reasons I wouldn't want to be on Broadway.  The first is the actual performing and the second is the audience.  Turns out those things are vital aspects of show biz, so it looks like my melodic voice and I will be sticking to performances in the kitchen and/or my car.  

I really did go to New York on Saturday though.  My cousins, Emily and I had given our moms Mary Poppins tickets for Mother's Day and the show was this past weekend.  Before we left, I turned on my psych up song for the day, which was of course New York, New York.  Emily chose to listen to a few rounds of Empire State of Mind, and her thematic musical choice did me proud.  Plus, when Jay Z says "I be spiked out.  I'll be hood forever," I'm sure he means "I'm king of the hill.  Top of the heap" as Frank says.  Ah, yes.  Surely Frank and Jay would have been the best of friends.

Anyway, we got to the train station and I was really hoping that we would get a double decker train, because what in the world could be more fun than riding on the second story of a New Jersey Transit commuter train?  NOT MUCH.  I'm sad to say that a regular old one story train came rolling (riding?  sliding?  driving?) down the track, and I put my preferences aside and climbed aboard.

The train ride was uneventful, and a short time later we found ourselves in Pennsylvania Station.  Which was ironic because THAT IS THE STATE FROM WHENCE WE CAME. 

Once we confirmed that we did in fact make it to Manhattan, we started walking around and I took my camera out and carried it in my hand like a tourist because I WAS A TOURIST and also, LOOK AT ALL OF THE TALL BUILDINGS AND BEAUTIFUL SIGNS.

And while we were walking I instructed my family to LOOK FOR REGIS!  If that doesn't scream tourist, I don't know what does.

We ate lunch at the Stardust Diner. 

All of the waiters and waitresses there are aspiring Broadway stars, and there is always someone singing.  They were all very talented, and one of the girls sounded EXACTLY like Lady Gaga.  Thankfully she did not sport an outfit made of flank steak or "hatch" from some sort of "egg."

And finally, after lunch we headed back uptown for the show.

Look at me using city terms like uptown.  In all actuality I have no idea if it was uptown or downtown or overtown, but it sure makes me sound sophisticated. 

The show was fantastic and after we left I wanted to run home, find a magical umbrella, and float in on the east wind to a family in need of some tough love and a spoonful of sugar.  To help the medicine go down.  Medicine, go down.  Medicine, go down.

In the most deeeee-liiiight-fullll way.

After the show we caught the east wind and flew back into town on our umbrellas.  I kid, what we really caught was a (one story) train back home, because the east wind would have taken us somewhere in the vicinity of the Hudson River, and while I do enjoy a dramatic exit, that one would have been less than ideal.

It was a lovely day in the big city though, and I think some of the Broadway talent/magic rubbed off on me, because in church on Sunday morning I was on my A game in the singing department.  A few songs in I even leaned over to Emily and whispered, "My singing voice is really good today."

Ah, vanity.  One of my finest gifts.  So glad it could make an appearance in church, of all places.

Emily listened to me closely for a few verses and then whispered back quite bluntly, "Nope.  You sound exactly the same to me as you always have."

That just means I need a little more practice.  Just wait until we do the dishes this week!  She will think Frank himself has shown up to wash the pots.

i'm trying to work the word 'aviary' into this post somehow

A few weeks ago my mom discovered that some birds had made a nest on top of the wreath on our front door.  They got themselves some prime real estate amongst the pink artificial hydrangeas. Little did they know that not only would their location provide them with some lovely floral views, but that my mom would build them a privacy fence so they could sit on the nest in peace and quiet.

It's very shabby chic.  Or, should I say shabby CHICK?

Since the discovery of the nest, I have been anxiously awaiting the day when those little eggs would hatch.  I could wait to see the cuddly, fluffy, adorable birds that I was sure were inside.

Well, the eggs hatched on Sunday.  And here is the part where I wish I could tell you that the babies were every bit as cuddly and adorable as I imagined they would be.

But, they weren't.  Not even a little bit.  Not even if you turned off the lights, took out your contacts, AND squinted your eyes.  Nevertheless, I took a few pictures of our featherless friends yesterday but the glass is frosted and I didn't want to use a flash so they are a little blurry.  Here they are in all of their pink, un-fluffy glory.

Looks like someone is hungry!  That would be Laura, Jr, obviously.  I'm so proud.

Here's hoping that tomorrow these little guys have feathers. Nowhere to go but up.

on the plus side, i'd make a great hitch hiker

Well, I can’t believe it’s already Saturday night.  Especially because when I look back at this past week I can’t remember doing anything except going out to eat twice and watching reality TV.  So basically just living the dream.

 Although my lightbulbs finally arrived this week from the faraway land of China, and they were absolutely worth every bit of the 44 day wait.  I’m seeing my bedroom in a whole new light.

 Literally.

Also, I received a reply to my letter to the radio station concerning my disapproval of no ballad weekends. 

 Wait a minute.  What am I talking about? THIS WEEK WAS FULL OF EXCITEMENT!

 Unfortunately, despite my one woman campaign, it looks like they will be keeping Pitbull on the airwaves each weekend and Meatloaf and Peter Cetera will be pushed to the wayside until Monday morning.  I can’t say I’m surprised.  Speaking of Pitbull, he was on Dancing With the Stars this week along with my buddy NeYo.  While they performed I googled them and then read their criminal pasts to my family because we like to keep the excitement level around here hovering at about a 9.

 Thursday night 50 Cent was on American Idol, so it was like week of the hip hop trifecta.  I knew he has had a few run ins with the law so I googled him and proceeded to read what became my favorite quote of the week…”if it weren’t for the fact that his felony convictions prevented him from voting, 50 Cent has said that he would have voted for President Bush.”

 I’m sure Bush was just thrilled to death with that endorsement from Mr. Cent.

 I didn’t have class this week, so on Monday night I went out to dinner with Matt.  We went to Macaroni Grill and had the best time.  We even got an appetizer because we were feeling fancy and Matt chose calamari.  Which I learned is actually squid.  I was operating under the impression that it was another type of sea creature altogether.  Sort of like one fisherman saying “Oh look, I caught some squid,” and his fishing buddy saying “Cool, I’m fishing for calamari today.” 

Unless that fisherman is tossing his line in a vat of hot oil, he will be out of luck.

 At one point during the meal the waitress came over and asked if I would like more iced tea and I very politely said, “Yes please, I’ll have a little bit more.”  When she walked away Matt laughed and said “You know, I always wonder why you always answer like that.  Do you really think someone will ever bring you back a glass with only a little bit of iced tea in it?”  To be honest, I never even realized what I was saying, let alone considered the consequences of my words.  I suppose subconsciously I just don’t want servers to think I am some kind of glutton in the iced tea beverage department.

Thursday night we went to Applebee’s because we were in the mood to eat good in the neighborhood, as their slogan suggests.  Also, they have some sweet deals on appetizers after 9:00.  We ordered chicken fingers, spinach artichoke dip, and potato twisters.  Well, apparently I don’t bring my fine dining manners along with me to restaurants where you can play guys vs. girls bingo while simultaneously watching sixteen different televised sporting events, because when the waitress came over to see how our food was, my mouth was full.  So do you know what I did? 

 I GAVE HER THE THUMBS UP. 

 A HEARTY, ENTHUSIASTIC THUMBS UP.  It was like an out of body experience and as soon as I realized what I was doing I returned my hand quickly back down on the table hoping that maybe she and/or Matt did not realize what I had just done.  But by the look on Matt’s face, I could tell that it was too late.

 When she came back a little while later to see if I wanted more mango lemonade, I almost just said “FILL ‘ER UP.”  Because at that point, what did I have to lose?

Today I went to New York City with some family and we had the best day, but I think it deserves it’s very own post.  However, you can rest assured that when we went out to lunch, my thumbs did not make any uninvited appearances.

Whew.

let your light shine - a giveaway!

It's no secret that I love words.  Love. Them.  All of them. 

Except writhe.  I have never liked the word writhe.

Other than that though, I'm a FAN of the words.  It completely fascinates me that just 26 letters make up millions of words, and those words can make you think and cry and dream and laugh (those are my favorites) and apologize and change and forgive and imagine.  

I have a lot of words around my room... 

 And now, I have a new addition to my word collection.

 Let your light shine. 

Seventeen little letters.  Four little words.  And a whole lot of meaning.

This plaque is from Dayspring, and this month's theme for their Inspired Deals page is "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." 

Turns out I loved words so much that I majored in English during college.  Which consequently means that I do not have a house at this point in my life, but instead a lovely little bedroom in my parent's home.  However, I can do my best to serve the Lord and let my light shine in my tiny little corner of the world!  

And here's the best news!  I have a $20.00 Dayspring credit to give away to one person who comments on this post between now and Friday night.

For one entry, check out the Dayspring store and come back and tell me your favorite item. 

For a second entry, tell me your favorite four word quote or verse or phrase!

Dayspring provided me with this product for review.  However, all opinions are my very own.  And they are priceless.  Also, it makes me feel very official and grown up to type this fine print disclosure statement.

it's fun to have a little sister

Once in a great while I get the vibe that Emily becomes a wee bit tired of me and thinks about how she can't believe we are even related.  Mainly because she will occasionally sigh VERY LOUDLY and then say "I CAN'T BELIEVE WE ARE WE EVEN RELATED."  However, sometimes I think we are more alike than she would like to admit.

The other night after dinner, Emily was in the kitchen "doing the dishes," and I was up in my room.  I heard a knock at my door, and here is what I saw when I opened it.

Not kidding.

Apparently while she was "doing the dishes," Emily picked decided to pick up one of the food covers we use when we eat out on the deck, place it on her head, and spin around and around in an effort to demonstrate the scientific principle of inertia.

All while wearing her rockstar sunglasses.  Of course.  I'm sure Sir Isaac Newtown rocked his shades while he experimented with the laws of motion too.

After she confirmed that an object in motion does indeed stay in motion, she came upstairs to show me.

So I'm thinking Em's future could go either way.  Comedian or physicist.  It's a real toss up.

P.S. - I just went to Em's room to ask her if she would mind me putting these pictures on the blog.  She looked at me and responded totally nonchalantly, "Sure, as long as I'm wearing my sunglasses in them.  I mean, if I'm going to be on the blog, I want to look good."

We are definitely sisters. 

my mom and the graduate

Well, this weekend was a big one.  It was full of places to go and people to see, and that just so happens to be my favorite sort of weekend. 

Saturday was Matt’s graduation.  I drove up with his family and the two hour ride was absolutely gorgeous.  I have never seen greener trees or a sky quite so blue.  It was like spring decided to come out with all guns blazing and say “take that, winter.”  I felt like I was looking at the world through rose colored glasses, except they were blue and green. 
 

Unfortunately, the second we arrived at his school we were instructed to take shelter inside the classroom buildings because of approaching severe weather, including lighting and hail.  And so then we sat in a lecture hall for 45 minutes while outside it rained and poured and blew and whatever the past tense of lightning is and I sat there thinking (but not saying because even though it CRACKED me up, I was in polite company) “what the hail?” 

Finally there was a bit of a break in the storms so we all ran outside for a VERY ABBREVIATED AND ALSO VERY COLD version of graduation.  There was enough time for all of the names to be called, and for the president of the alumni association to get up and fill the graduates with false hope and assure them that it doesn’t matter that the job market stinks and that no one is hiring and they will make far less money than they imagine, because the world!!  It is their oyster!! 

LIES. 

As soon as he finished speaking the skies OPENED UP and it POURED and I’m sure there could be some kind of metaphor for the rain and the fact that all the graduates had to shield themselves from the storm was their college diploma and when they used that to try to protect themselves, they still got a little bit wet. 

Except for the engineering majors.  They didn’t get a drop on them. 

Due to the rainstorm we went back inside the classroom building to meet up with the graduate and take cover from the rain and also some pictures!

It was about dinnertime when graduation ended so we were going to go out to eat.  The trick was finding a restaurant.  I remember touring this particular college when I was in high school, before I fell hook line and sinker for Penn State.  Someone asked our tour guide what there was to do around the campus, and he matter of factly answered “Drive thirty miles in any direction.  Nothing.”

He was not kidding. 

I was driving with Matt and his family was following us, and he said that pretty soon we were going to come up to a pretty big city and that he was confident we could find a nice restaurant there.  A few miles later we passed a mom and pop hardware store and a post office and I said in a very joking manner “so is this the “big city?” because obviously it’s not a big city unless you have a Target, large shopping mall, and at least three grocery stores.  He looked at me and said “Yeah.  Didn’t you see that stoplight?”

Toto, we’re not in the suburbs anymore.

Well let me tell you that big city/teeny tiny town did have a restaurant, and we went in and I had turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauce, corn muffins, salad, apple sauce, cottage cheese, French fries and sweet tea and it was all delicious. 

Sunday was Mother’s Day of course, and after church we visited my Gramma.  Then we came home and planted flowers, which is a Mother’s Day tradition in our family.  We made my mom dinner a little while later, which was in my mind a total collaborative effort because I was in charge of the asparagus and Phil made potatoes and grilled some delicious steak.  However, after dinner he said “thanks for helping me with dinner, Laur.” 
 

I get the feeling he didn’t think our mealtime contributions were 50/50.  However, it was delicious and I think my mom enjoyed it!  And the rest of her Mother’s Day gift will come in a few weeks, so this is like the holiday that never ends.

On Monday I had school and then Matt left his house and the great Phillies game that was on and came over to watch Dancing with the Stars with me.  That is a tell tale sign of true love and also the first night of summer.  At first he acted like he was too cool for DWTS, but after Mark and Chelsea danced he predicted their scores and was SPOT ON, and I’m pretty sure he’s hooked. 

The Phillies and Major League Baseball in general are likely nothing but a distant memory for Matt.

Now I just have to try to get him to come over for American Idol too and I will have met two summer goals before the month of May is even halfway over which will put me very ahead of schedule.

Another goal is to get down the shore, and I just so happen to be going this weekend.

I’m SHORE it will be a lovely time.