When it rains....

At our most recent "girls coffee night" meetings at Starbucks, a friend was lambasting me about my lack of diligence in updating my blog in the past 2 months. However, my blog consists entirely of reflections about mildly entertaining life events, and thereby my writing requires that I have at least a mildly entertaining life. I think I may have hit somewhat of a dry spell over the past month or so, for reasons unknown. Thank goodness I'm getting back into the groove again....

Those of you who read my blog regularly may have noticed that I occasionally pontificate about men. I tend to think quite a bit, maybe even too much, about meeting the right one. Recently, several helpful friends and acquaintances have been trying to assist me in getting ahead in this department, in one instance resulting in a blind date. I had agreed to meet said date at the Olive Garden at 7:00 on Wednesday night, but when I got home at 6:30 from an exhausting day at work, going out was the last thing I felt like doing. I was just getting ready to go out the door when my mother gave me the once-over and immediately said, "You're not wearing that, are you?" I saw absolutely nothing wrong with the modest pink turtleneck sweater I still had on from work, but my mother had apparently decided a blind date was occasion for pulling out the substantially less modest V-neck. Since I hadn't the energy to argue, I put on her clothing selection and dashed out the door. I was pleasantly surprised upon my arrival at the restaurant. Said gentleman was better looking than I had imagined from the MySpace link he had sent me, and seemed to be a nice enough guy. However, we quickly ran out of things to talk about. I've been in school for the past 6 years, he'd never been to college. Music takes over the majority of my life, he'd quit the French horn in 6th grade. I like to joke around alot, he took everything I said literally. Finally, we started talking about upcoming Halloween festivities. Our conversation lead me into telling him about the fantastic party my roommates and I had thrown our senior year of college. I told him, "You know, it was that party that people still talked about months later!" "There was a party like that in high school once," he replied, "I wasn't at it...". I'm not even close to what I would describe as a party girl, but sheesh. Thankfully, the evening was not a long a long one, and our parting minimized awkwardness. At least I delicious left-overs to take to work the next day.

The very same night, I got home to find a mysterious message in my in-box. A friend whom I'd seen at a wedding recently sent me an email that went approximately like this...."It was fun to see you at the wedding...I saw you dancing with my friend. You should email him, I think the two of you would have fun. :-)." Since my motto as of late has come to be something along the lines of "Why not?", I decided I had nothing to lose and emailed him a couple of days later. Since this was only yesterday, I cannot report on the outcome of this encounter. Perhaps it will inspire a future blog entry.

Last weekend I went to the party I never went to in college. We're talking people everywhere, only one of whom I actually knew, a keg, dozens of bottles of hard liquor, music, dancing, a bonfire, insanely detailed Halloween decorations, the works. I have to say that I was not at all in my element. However, pushing all my natural "large-group-induced-shyness" aside, I sucked it up and began introducing myself to everybody. Eventually exhausted from all the small talk, I decided that I would do well to join the small contingent of 6-8 people dancing in the middle of the garage. I may have looked foolish, but I least I didn't have to talk for awhile. Amongst the dancers was a guy dressed in scrubs who looked like the spitting image of Alex from Grey's Anatomy. We danced a bit, until I decided that it was really time for me to go inside. There I joined the group of people standing around in the kitchen looking as awkward as I felt. Now these were people I could talk to. Dr. Alex reappeared after 15-20 minutes. Not a half hour later, a girl dressed as Wonder Woman shuffled into the kitchen and announced, "I need water, or I'm going to throw up!" "OK, well that's my cue to leave!" I said, running, not walking, toward the door. "Wait, you can't leave without giving me your number!" said Dr. Alex. After briefly arguing that I didn't think that was a very good idea and that I had no idea why he would want to call me, I gave in. We're going out on Friday.

Although I don't see any outstanding potential for long-term interest in any of these guys, it is nice to have a little intrigue in my life every now and again. Who knows? Maybe all this activity is just a precursor to the fantastic guy looming on the horizon. Or maybe this is just the storm before the calm, and I'm not going to see another date for the next 15 years. Whatever the case, at least it's giving me something to write about. ;-)

TIHL #15 How To Use The Self-Checkout

I'll be the first to admit that I rather enjoy this new "self-checkout" phenomenon that is sweeping grocery stores across the country. Said system offers several advantages. First, a great number of people fear new technology, and ergo are hesitent to jump on this newfangled purchasing bandwagon. This creates shorter lines for those of us who are willing to go out on a limb, which makes everyone happier. Second, haven't you all had days when you just don't feel like making small talk with the cashiers as they weigh your tomatoes and swipe your credit card? Or times when you really wanted some things in paper bags and other things in plastic bags? Again, self-checkouts can make all these dreams come true. Third, don't you all have some eensy little part inside of you that really enjoys the satisfying "beep" as the bar code is dragged across that red laser line? Yes, self-checkouts also allow everyone to play cashier without actually having to work at a grocery store.

As I have recently discovered, there are also a few drawbacks to this checkout system. For example, my neighborhood grocery store is so small that if you hesitate for even one millisecond in the operation of the computer, a store employee immediately dashes over to offer assistance. (In my opinion, they should be more concerned about rushing to aid the people who are looking for margarita mix in the "Ethnic Foods" aisle--not that I've ever done that...) On a more serious note, the self-checkout may or may not have turned this formerly law-abiding citizen into somewhat of a thief. Before you call the proper authorities, allow me to explain the situation.

Since produce does not yet feature bar codes, one must weigh the produce and then select the particular fruit or vegetable from screen after screen of options. On this particular day, a friend and I had decided to make our nearly infamous fall dish (affectionately known as "apple whoops"), and there was no question that we needed to buy the best apples available. Whilst trying to select "Honeycrisp, $2.49 per lb" from the list of options, I inadvertently selected a cheaper variety of apple that was in fact only $1.23 per pound. Try as we might to fix our error, we could not find a way to undo our purchase of the inferior apples. Not wanting to hesitate and cause further ado, we just shoved our money in the machine, grabbed our partially pilfered apples, and left. I feel just a little guilty about the whole incident, but I'm sure they'll find a way to overcharge me for something else. Or, maybe next time I can buy the cheap apples and just say I bought the expensive ones? In the meantime, I urge you all to try your local self-checkouts. Just remember that if you hesitate, you may not get your apples accidentally on sale after all.

TIHL #14 How To Jump a Car

Several years ago, I recall having a conversation with my Gustavus roommate that went approximately like this:

Roomie: "I saw a guy try to jump a car today...it was funny...he was having alot of trouble!"
Me: (after approximately 15 seconds of puzzled pondering) "He tried to jump a car? The long way or the short way?!"

Fast forward in your mind, if you will, to last night. My friend and I had just stepped out into the much-too-chilly-for-October night from our other friends' condo after a wild night of Pinot Gris and Scrabble. I had just started my engine and cranked up some Stevie Wonder when I heard my friend's voice: "Erinn? Um...my car is totally dead. But I have jumper cables in the trunk!" "Fantastic!" said I, "Do you know how to use them?" "Well, no....kinda....I bet we can figure it out." It quickly became apparent that this plan of operation was doomed from the start, just about the time that my friend asked me to pop my hood. I realized that I had never actually done this, and I was having a bit of trouble locating the correct apparatus with which to pop. Only moments later, with windshield wipers going, washer fluid flying, lights blinking, and a veritable symphony of beeping sounds, the hood was open. It was at this point we decided to call in the reinforcements. Our friends (whose condo we had been at) were down in a flash. "Erinn, turn off your lights. They're shining into everyone's windows!" "They're automatic!" I protested. "I can't turn them off while the car is running." At this point I was forced into surrendering the keys to my vehicle and turning the car-jumping over to the professionals. (Or at least, someone who had done it before...) Even after much dramatic sparking action, we were unable to revive the poor Honda. I'm not yet sure how this story ended, but it was a startling realization that I have a thing or two to learn about my car. Want me to assemble a piece of furniture? No problem. Want me to paint a wall? Ok. Still, somehow or other, it appears that the book of basic car knowledge was left untouched on my shelf. I should probably learn how to change a tire. And someday, I should probably learn how to jump a car...but the question remains--the long way, or the short way?

Strange...

Something strange is going on in the Danielson household. (Admittedly, my family has always been a little crazy, but this actually has nothing to do with them.) It all started yesterday, at which time our candy dish was still brimming with Peanut Butter Hershey's Kisses. (TM) Krista and I each tried one, decided that they weren't all that spectacular, and left the rest of them untouched in the dish. Lo and behold, this morning when we woke up to go to church, every last Kiss was gone!!! Everyone in the family is completely adamant that they did not eat them, and as far as I can see, no one would have any reason to lie. If that isn't weird enough, my sister went to get out her pre-wrap yesterday (She's an athletic training major, and thoroughly enjoys taping and immobilizing various body parts. In fact, yesterday she taped Mom and I together, but that is weirdness beyond the scope of this particular tale...), and there was a row of acorns stacked up in the hole of the tape roll! Later, we found more acorns in the coffee table drawer where we store piano music. I'm not quite sure what is going on here. Which is more terrifying, the possibility of a critter, or the possibility of a person, or the possibility of...well, who knows what? I'm getting just a little bit creeped out here. Hopefully there is some sort of reasonable explanation!