from restaurants and would keep them in her purse and eat them later. Plain. I haven't done that yet*, but I did inherit her taste-buds for cream. Oh cream. Davis girls can drink whipping cream straight, and I'm a Davis girl.
Last night I found myself at Denny's meeting some of my new roommate's friends. I wasn't hungry and was there for the company. The person next to me ordered a hot chocolate and when the waitress asked if he wanted whipped cream on it he said no. No! That is the best part of restaurant hot chocolate! I elbowed him and whispered, "On the side!" He quickly cleared his throat and told the waitress he would like to have his cream on the side. Good. She came out a few minutes later with his hot chocolate hovering the brim of his mug and with a side dish of whipped cream that generously filled the dish and came to a peak. My delight spilled over but I cautiously tried it; careful to make sure it wasn't a cool whip or diary substitute. It was not. It was wonderful. This place does unlimited refills of Hot Chocolate and the person next to me had two more cups--each time his whipped cream was brought on the side in the same manner.By the second dish I was pretty satisfied but also like my great grandmother, I won't let something so good go to waste; thus, my roommate and I finished off the third one as well. I loved that waitress--she said she was a whipped cream girl herself and so she did it right. That she did!
*Butter in Europe is amazing. There were a few times there I ate the butter practically plain.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Today I caught some bread
falling off my shelf and later I caught my cell phone before it hit the pavement as I was walking back from the grocery store. I am good at catching things as they fall. This is related to the fact that I am also somewhat clumsy. If I wasn’t good at catching falling items, I would imagine that I would be good at gluing broken things back together.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
I work in a Heat Plant
which is interesting for an operator because there are all types of alarms that sound. The alarms are different depending on if there is a fire alarm, boiler problem, emergency wellness center alarm, or call accounting alarm. I have become an amateur connoisseur of alarms, deciding if it is really annoying to only slightly irritating. But the heat plant is a happening place that has people coming in and out to see tunnels, cut out boilers, and people working to keep campus warm. I like it because there is always something going on or to see including:
They painted this cabinet and wanted it to dry on all sides so they lifted the top up with a crane.
This is my office--they were working on electrical stuff and set us up temporarily. This was also the same day the campus Fire Marshall and fire department representative needed to come by...
This was a sprinkler right outside my office that kept having issues
I don't remember what they were doing...
but there is always special things happening at the Heat Plant!
They painted this cabinet and wanted it to dry on all sides so they lifted the top up with a crane.
This is my office--they were working on electrical stuff and set us up temporarily. This was also the same day the campus Fire Marshall and fire department representative needed to come by...
This was a sprinkler right outside my office that kept having issues
I don't remember what they were doing...
but there is always special things happening at the Heat Plant!
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Sometimes
when people are whispering/talking/laughing around me and I am trying to listen to the professor/teacher/presenter I get a little frustrated/annoyed/angry. And then I wish I had a little bamboo straw in my purse and a container of poison darts. If I had these items in my purse, I would simply remove the bamboo straw while I sedulously loaded the poisoned darts. I would pretend to rub my face while I’d take a deep breath. Then, with a natural movement, I would face my miscreant and aim for their throat. I wouldn’t use poison poison--just use something that would make them mute for a little while. And then I would relax and focus on my lecture/class/presentation.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Paperweights
I almost ate a rock today.
It had been wedged in my shoe between the jack shaped plastic sole gaps. I came into my office, swung my right leg to rest on my left knee and pulled out the little rock. I was trying to get some task done so I placed the rock top of my computer monitor which is stationed under my desk. Phone calls rang, my lunch hour errands elapsed, and I later found myself snacking to tide over my appetite until I could go home. I poured myself a serving of Japanese crackers which have a crunch and texture I have loved since I was younger. I was fussing over something when I looked down and grabbed a stray cracker that I had allowed to slip. I put it into my mouth and realized by the weight and the way it grinded against my teeth that it was not a Japanese cracker. As I let it roll off of my mouth and into my hand I realized what I had done. I was still recuperating from the crude texture as I opened my office door and flung the tiny offender into the cement walkway. Returning back to my desk I realized that this event paralleled another moment in my life.
Bravo was an Airedale my dad brought home one day who was mostly tan but had darker streaks of brown and black on his curled fur. He was also a mostly happy dog even though he did not get a lot of attention from me or any of my siblings. I don’t remember exactly where or how it happened, but Bravo ate a rock. Well, I do remember it happened while we were on vacation and so we couldn’t visit my dad’s brother as long as originally planned because Bravo had to get surgery. The veterinarian excised the rock from Bravo’s stomach and I don’t know if he shined it up or if my dad did that later. All I remember is that my dad put that rock on his desk in his office of our house and would tell everyone who came in that it was the most expensive paperweight he ever owned.
Paperweights remind me of Bravo and my dad, but they also remind me of my mother and youngest brother. We had another paperweight while growing up. This one was square and contained a small ship and blue and clear liquid. When you shook the paperweight it would mix the little ocean inside and throw the ship against it’s contained edges. One night my mom was in my brothers’ room taking a break on the bottom bunk bed while my youngest brother was above her. He wanted her attention, “Mom! Look!” Dutifully she leaned her head away from her protected covering to see my brother holding something straight above her. But it slipped; and the ocean roared and it’s contained edge fell and crashed between her eyes. Did I see this? I can’t say or remember for sure. But I remember this moment and how she pulled up from the bed holding her head in pain and preparing for the bruise to come. I still hurt a little for her today thinking of this moment.
And so these stories continue mapping in my mind, sudden shadowy tributes that snap together even with the most shapeless similarity. But that, I believe, is a true beauty in life.
It had been wedged in my shoe between the jack shaped plastic sole gaps. I came into my office, swung my right leg to rest on my left knee and pulled out the little rock. I was trying to get some task done so I placed the rock top of my computer monitor which is stationed under my desk. Phone calls rang, my lunch hour errands elapsed, and I later found myself snacking to tide over my appetite until I could go home. I poured myself a serving of Japanese crackers which have a crunch and texture I have loved since I was younger. I was fussing over something when I looked down and grabbed a stray cracker that I had allowed to slip. I put it into my mouth and realized by the weight and the way it grinded against my teeth that it was not a Japanese cracker. As I let it roll off of my mouth and into my hand I realized what I had done. I was still recuperating from the crude texture as I opened my office door and flung the tiny offender into the cement walkway. Returning back to my desk I realized that this event paralleled another moment in my life.
Bravo was an Airedale my dad brought home one day who was mostly tan but had darker streaks of brown and black on his curled fur. He was also a mostly happy dog even though he did not get a lot of attention from me or any of my siblings. I don’t remember exactly where or how it happened, but Bravo ate a rock. Well, I do remember it happened while we were on vacation and so we couldn’t visit my dad’s brother as long as originally planned because Bravo had to get surgery. The veterinarian excised the rock from Bravo’s stomach and I don’t know if he shined it up or if my dad did that later. All I remember is that my dad put that rock on his desk in his office of our house and would tell everyone who came in that it was the most expensive paperweight he ever owned.
Paperweights remind me of Bravo and my dad, but they also remind me of my mother and youngest brother. We had another paperweight while growing up. This one was square and contained a small ship and blue and clear liquid. When you shook the paperweight it would mix the little ocean inside and throw the ship against it’s contained edges. One night my mom was in my brothers’ room taking a break on the bottom bunk bed while my youngest brother was above her. He wanted her attention, “Mom! Look!” Dutifully she leaned her head away from her protected covering to see my brother holding something straight above her. But it slipped; and the ocean roared and it’s contained edge fell and crashed between her eyes. Did I see this? I can’t say or remember for sure. But I remember this moment and how she pulled up from the bed holding her head in pain and preparing for the bruise to come. I still hurt a little for her today thinking of this moment.
And so these stories continue mapping in my mind, sudden shadowy tributes that snap together even with the most shapeless similarity. But that, I believe, is a true beauty in life.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
I awoke
to the sound of a door opening into my cluttered bedroom. I peered past my covered toes to see a blonde haired girl. I lost my breath. I had to suck in the air around me so that oxygen would pump to my brain and I could understand this situation. The girl looked back at me.
She was wearing an oversized maroon Calvin Klein sweatshirt with black saddle foot leggings. Her shoulder length hair had a gentle wave at the ends but was not well managed so it flew about her face with bangs that were similarly haphazard. Her teeth were big and her side fangs needed some heavy metal to bring them down to align with her other teeth. I knew exactly who this girl was.
Her big brown eyes widened and she tried to escape back out to the hallway.
“Wait, wait, wait!” I pleaded as I sat up and put one arm out to her. Her eyes stayed big and she paused and looked to me.
“Hi” I said, “I don’t know if you know who I am…”
As she shook her head ‘no’, her whole upper body moved.
“That’s alright, but I know a lot about you! And your family! How old are you?”
“10”
“What grade are you in?”
“Well, I was just in 4th grade, with Mrs. Johnson but after summer I will be in 5th grade with Mrs. Parker.”
“Oh of course! Mrs. Johnson who always paced with a pencil that she rolled up and down her hands causing a funny sound as the pencil hit her rings!” My dear little friend looked slightly alarmed at this invasion to her privacy so I tried to ease her mind so she would talk to me, “I just know that because I had her as a teacher, too. I also know your mom and dad really well”.
She didn’t seem alarmed any more, but she also didn’t look like she would be asking me any questions. I decided to ask her another one, “Didn’t you do a speech presentation in front of all the fourth and fifth graders about Amelia Bedilia?”
“Yeah. I dressed up like her and told some stories from her book. Mom and I planned it our so I would stand on a special rug so that I could throw flour everywhere like she did in one of her books”
“That must have been really fun! I bet it was scary speaking in front of the whole school. Were you scared?”
“Yeah. I was. I messed up some of the parts”
“I am sure no one remembers that but you.” She just nodded. I continued, “Well it’s the summer, what are you doing today?”
“My best friends Erin and Amanda are coming over and we are going to go swimming in the pool and maybe play office or something”.
“That’ll be fun!” I said.
I was gearing up my next round of questions when she said, “I got to go”. Before I could protest and ask her all the real questions that I wanted to ask, her maroon back was turned to me and my door was closing. I went to hop out of my bed, but my legs would not move. Before the door closed I just had to at least yell out a goodbye.
“It was so nice to see you! Take care of yourself! Goodbye little Melanee!”
She was wearing an oversized maroon Calvin Klein sweatshirt with black saddle foot leggings. Her shoulder length hair had a gentle wave at the ends but was not well managed so it flew about her face with bangs that were similarly haphazard. Her teeth were big and her side fangs needed some heavy metal to bring them down to align with her other teeth. I knew exactly who this girl was.
Her big brown eyes widened and she tried to escape back out to the hallway.
“Wait, wait, wait!” I pleaded as I sat up and put one arm out to her. Her eyes stayed big and she paused and looked to me.
“Hi” I said, “I don’t know if you know who I am…”
As she shook her head ‘no’, her whole upper body moved.
“That’s alright, but I know a lot about you! And your family! How old are you?”
“10”
“What grade are you in?”
“Well, I was just in 4th grade, with Mrs. Johnson but after summer I will be in 5th grade with Mrs. Parker.”
“Oh of course! Mrs. Johnson who always paced with a pencil that she rolled up and down her hands causing a funny sound as the pencil hit her rings!” My dear little friend looked slightly alarmed at this invasion to her privacy so I tried to ease her mind so she would talk to me, “I just know that because I had her as a teacher, too. I also know your mom and dad really well”.
She didn’t seem alarmed any more, but she also didn’t look like she would be asking me any questions. I decided to ask her another one, “Didn’t you do a speech presentation in front of all the fourth and fifth graders about Amelia Bedilia?”
“Yeah. I dressed up like her and told some stories from her book. Mom and I planned it our so I would stand on a special rug so that I could throw flour everywhere like she did in one of her books”
“That must have been really fun! I bet it was scary speaking in front of the whole school. Were you scared?”
“Yeah. I was. I messed up some of the parts”
“I am sure no one remembers that but you.” She just nodded. I continued, “Well it’s the summer, what are you doing today?”
“My best friends Erin and Amanda are coming over and we are going to go swimming in the pool and maybe play office or something”.
“That’ll be fun!” I said.
I was gearing up my next round of questions when she said, “I got to go”. Before I could protest and ask her all the real questions that I wanted to ask, her maroon back was turned to me and my door was closing. I went to hop out of my bed, but my legs would not move. Before the door closed I just had to at least yell out a goodbye.
“It was so nice to see you! Take care of yourself! Goodbye little Melanee!”
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Shalom
Me: Hey Rae, can you do something for me?
Rae: Sure
Me: Well, today is a Czech and Slovak holiday…
Rae: Do you need me to hit Lubka with a stick?
Me: No, but I am so glad you asked that! You can if you want to. It is Three Kings Day; it is the day when the wise men came to bring gifts to Jesus. In the Czech Republic and Slovakia, the wise men come by and write their initials in chalk above the doorway. Could you write in chalk or with paper " K + M + B" above your doorway?
Rae: Yeah, no problem. Is there anything else I should do?
Me: No, I don’t think so. Most of the time people dress up like the wise men and put the initials above the doorway, but you don’t need to do that.
Rae: Is there anything I should say, like ‘Shalom’?
Me: Yeah! Say ‘Shalom’ and then hit her with a stick!
Rae: Sure
Me: Well, today is a Czech and Slovak holiday…
Rae: Do you need me to hit Lubka with a stick?
Me: No, but I am so glad you asked that! You can if you want to. It is Three Kings Day; it is the day when the wise men came to bring gifts to Jesus. In the Czech Republic and Slovakia, the wise men come by and write their initials in chalk above the doorway. Could you write in chalk or with paper " K + M + B" above your doorway?
Rae: Yeah, no problem. Is there anything else I should do?
Me: No, I don’t think so. Most of the time people dress up like the wise men and put the initials above the doorway, but you don’t need to do that.
Rae: Is there anything I should say, like ‘Shalom’?
Me: Yeah! Say ‘Shalom’ and then hit her with a stick!
Seven pages
Seven pages. Full pages. Back and front college ruled. This was my written essay that I had to orchestrate from three questions in two and a half hours. What do I have to show for knowledge obtained in my first month of graduate school for my Research Methods class? Seven pages. Full pages. Back and front college ruled. And with small print. Well, the first three pages were small print. Pages four and five had more cursive and short hand, but are, for the most part, neat print. Page six was when I realized I had twenty minutes to do the last essay. Page seven is the same handwriting I would use to write in my journal after a long day when, out of obligation, I would record basic information and then close my eyes to enter into my dream. Seven pages. Full pages. Back and front college ruled. The last paragraph on page seven started with the word ‘whith’. It was then crossed out, then written again, the same way, ‘whith’. I remember crossing out the second failed attempt. I started a new line and exhaled while slowing, concentrating and spelling out W-I-T-H. I wrote out a few more sentences that hopefully paraphrased my last page and a half of writing. Finally. I have finished. Seven pages. Full pages. Back and front college ruled.
Lavender and Lemon
If we are ever out together, and you notice that I smell nice and ask me what I am wearing, I will probably lie to you and tell you it is a new shampoo or body wash. What it will really be is Ajax dishsoap. This isn’t your normal orange Ajax that it is in every cafeteria around the world; not common dish soap for this girl! In fact it is called Lavender and Lemon and smells like a scene from Heidi.
I am going to buy some for myself…and my dishes.
I am going to buy some for myself…and my dishes.
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