I promise I am not a dog-hater, though my previous post would probably lead you to believe otherwise.
If I was offered a $20,000 allergen-free, sweet, fluffy, cute little showdog (aka a Gracie or Eclair) along with the means to take care of it (aka enough money to bathe it in Noni everyday and feed it special organic food and distilled water), I wouldn't say no.
Mostly because then I could sell it and buy my first Steinway.
*cough*
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
A phew theengs I lurnd thiss we-kend*
I spent my weekend (the last weekend during which I could allow myself to even approach entertaining the dream of a wisp of a thought of a few moments of freedom this semester) at my friend's grandma's cabin an hour or two away from Yellowstone in the tiny town of Swan Valley, Idaho (I saw no swans, and I was in the middle of a forest on top of a mountain...go figure). The area is absolutely beeeeeautiful, and being there was very relaxing. I loved it. The cabin was built in the 70s, and though I took my camera, I did not take the time to actually use said camera. This fact is very unfortunate, as the aforementioned cabin decor didn't just stop at the wood paneling and brown/green/orange color scheme for carpet and furniture. No, there were even BEADS hanging in the kitchen window. Dude. It was groooovy. Seriously. Awesome.
In a nutshell, I was afforded several interesting experiences this weekend. Here are a few things I learned, organized by category:
BRINE FISHERMEN
...are crazy.
--They tell dirty jokes.
--They go to China a lot.
My friend's grandma and step-grandpa came to stay while we were there. I was warned beforehand that her step-grandpa (Keith) was "interesting" and "unusual." It turns out he is a rich 75-year-old retired brine fisherman who basically has no inhibitions whatsoever. I'll let your imagination fill in the rest.
DOGS
--I passionately despise (i.e. find extremely disgusting) being licked profusely--or even a little bit--by large dogs.
--I will never let a dog live in my house. Dogs are hair-shedding fiends, and they smell. The dogs that do not fall into this category (i.e. the diamond-collar wearing type) are much too spoiled and expensive for my taste.
--Never again will a dog have the opportunity to urinate on my foot. Now I have to throw away a pair of my dear flip-flops. No amount of sterilization will take away my heebie-jeebies.
--I know panting is just one of a dog's necessary bodily functions, but I do not like it all the same.
--I do not enjoy riding for five hours while sharing the back seat of a Honda Civic with a hyperactive sheepdog. (Though in all fairness, he was on pretty good behavior most of the time, especially considering being cooped up for so long.)
Both my friend and her grandma have sheepdogs. Both dogs were allowed to run loose throughout the cabin during our entire stay. Though everyone else at the cabin viewed them as "cute, cuddly, fun-loving protectors," I saw right through that furry facade. In fact, I have it on good authority that one of them was planning to eat me. I was laying in the dark one night around 2:00am when I began to hear strange sounds very, very, very near my bed. It was really dark, (and I'm blind anyway), so I couldn't see what it was, and I couldn't quite tell whether the sound was actually coming from inside my room, from the attic (about two feet above me, due to the sloped ceiling), the wall (behind me), or outside through the open window. Possible danger on all sides. Finally, I couldn't take the agony of suspense any longer and reached over and plugged in the lamp. As soon as light flooded the room, my stalker was revealed to be none other than one of the ginormous sheepdogs (okay maybe 'ginormous' is an exaggeration...but he definitely isn't small, either). He had been standing about a foot away from my face, staring at me with all the creepiness he could muster. But you'll be proud to know, I didn't scream. No, I didn't even tremble. I just stared him down until he turned around and left my room and headed straight down the stairs. That's right. I showed him who is really the alpha dog.
As for the other dog, we came to find out that he is a spoiled indoor pet through and through. He would probably faint if he actually saw a sheep. Keith and my friend's husband took him with them in the truck when they went to gather some driftwood. On the way back, Keith let the dog run along beside the truck. However, since the dog had basically never run farther in his entire life than the distance from his food dish to the back door, he soon was having much trouble. After a couple of minutes, they actually had to stop, get out of the truck, and pick him up. And when they got back to the cabin, the poor, exhausted dog couldn't even climb out of the truck by himself. I know it's evil of me to say so, but I really, really wanted to laugh.
SQUARE ICE-CREAM (which we bought at a small gas station on our way home--supposedly world-famous)
...unfortunately looks much better than it tastes.
...ought to be served in square cones.
PINOCHLE (pronounced pea-knuckle)
...is awesome.
...is an incredibly complicated card game, the rules of which may (and almost certainly will, inevitably) cause extreme dissension. I wouldn't doubt that this game could have caused an ancient civilization to go extinct. Maybe that's what Shiz and Coriantumr were fighting about...
RANDOMNESS
There was a reservoir and a dam near where our cabin was. As you can see, the locals have eagerly taken advantage of the available pun. This particular store's slogan: "When you cuss, think of us."
*Yes, I realize I am making generalizations based on a few specific experiences. Too bad, so sad.
In a nutshell, I was afforded several interesting experiences this weekend. Here are a few things I learned, organized by category:
BRINE FISHERMEN
...are crazy.
--They tell dirty jokes.
--They go to China a lot.
My friend's grandma and step-grandpa came to stay while we were there. I was warned beforehand that her step-grandpa (Keith) was "interesting" and "unusual." It turns out he is a rich 75-year-old retired brine fisherman who basically has no inhibitions whatsoever. I'll let your imagination fill in the rest.
DOGS
--I passionately despise (i.e. find extremely disgusting) being licked profusely--or even a little bit--by large dogs.
--I will never let a dog live in my house. Dogs are hair-shedding fiends, and they smell. The dogs that do not fall into this category (i.e. the diamond-collar wearing type) are much too spoiled and expensive for my taste.
--Never again will a dog have the opportunity to urinate on my foot. Now I have to throw away a pair of my dear flip-flops. No amount of sterilization will take away my heebie-jeebies.
--I know panting is just one of a dog's necessary bodily functions, but I do not like it all the same.
--I do not enjoy riding for five hours while sharing the back seat of a Honda Civic with a hyperactive sheepdog. (Though in all fairness, he was on pretty good behavior most of the time, especially considering being cooped up for so long.)
Both my friend and her grandma have sheepdogs. Both dogs were allowed to run loose throughout the cabin during our entire stay. Though everyone else at the cabin viewed them as "cute, cuddly, fun-loving protectors," I saw right through that furry facade. In fact, I have it on good authority that one of them was planning to eat me. I was laying in the dark one night around 2:00am when I began to hear strange sounds very, very, very near my bed. It was really dark, (and I'm blind anyway), so I couldn't see what it was, and I couldn't quite tell whether the sound was actually coming from inside my room, from the attic (about two feet above me, due to the sloped ceiling), the wall (behind me), or outside through the open window. Possible danger on all sides. Finally, I couldn't take the agony of suspense any longer and reached over and plugged in the lamp. As soon as light flooded the room, my stalker was revealed to be none other than one of the ginormous sheepdogs (okay maybe 'ginormous' is an exaggeration...but he definitely isn't small, either). He had been standing about a foot away from my face, staring at me with all the creepiness he could muster. But you'll be proud to know, I didn't scream. No, I didn't even tremble. I just stared him down until he turned around and left my room and headed straight down the stairs. That's right. I showed him who is really the alpha dog.
As for the other dog, we came to find out that he is a spoiled indoor pet through and through. He would probably faint if he actually saw a sheep. Keith and my friend's husband took him with them in the truck when they went to gather some driftwood. On the way back, Keith let the dog run along beside the truck. However, since the dog had basically never run farther in his entire life than the distance from his food dish to the back door, he soon was having much trouble. After a couple of minutes, they actually had to stop, get out of the truck, and pick him up. And when they got back to the cabin, the poor, exhausted dog couldn't even climb out of the truck by himself. I know it's evil of me to say so, but I really, really wanted to laugh.
SQUARE ICE-CREAM (which we bought at a small gas station on our way home--supposedly world-famous)
...unfortunately looks much better than it tastes.
...ought to be served in square cones.
PINOCHLE (pronounced pea-knuckle)
...is awesome.
...is an incredibly complicated card game, the rules of which may (and almost certainly will, inevitably) cause extreme dissension. I wouldn't doubt that this game could have caused an ancient civilization to go extinct. Maybe that's what Shiz and Coriantumr were fighting about...
RANDOMNESS
There was a reservoir and a dam near where our cabin was. As you can see, the locals have eagerly taken advantage of the available pun. This particular store's slogan: "When you cuss, think of us."
*Yes, I realize I am making generalizations based on a few specific experiences. Too bad, so sad.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Europe indigestion
I think my brain is still trying to digest Europe. I just woke up from a nap in which I dreamed that Dr. Thornock (a theory/composition teacher here at BYU) was awarded the world's first-ever deportable statue of a cow standing on a canon with wheels, located in a cathedral with a huge organ backlighted by pastel colors on which (according to my dream) Liszt once famously played Wagner. Good thing I'm not taking the graduate entrance exam right now, or I'd probably say John Cage and Palestrina were contemporaries and that Bach's main instrument was the ukelele.
Friday, August 28, 2009
I am officially ancient
I am experiencing a new sensation. I'm old. My roommates are all younger than me. It's a crazy feeling, I tell you. From the time I entered first grade until just now, I have never, ever been the oldest in any sort of setting that had anything to do with my secular education. Huh, I guess maybe this is a hint that I should be earning my bachelor's degree sometime soon and getting on with grad school...
In other news, I think my new room roomie (Hailee) and I will be getting along quite nicely. I like her a lot. We had a little heart-to-heart over some DiGiorno pizza tonight, which, incidentally, we both happen to love. She can certainly make me laugh. And...I can see that she might be more than "occasionally boisterous" once in a while, but not in the shrill, obnoxious, twittery, fake, girly "look at me, boys! Look at me!" kind of way that I find extremely annoying after being exposed to more than five seconds of it. Another of my roommates, Melissa, also seems pretty sweet. Plus, she brought home brownies from her softball game for Hailee and me tonight, and that *definitely* makes the "How to make Britny think you're awesome" list.
Last but not least: do ancient people lose their sense of smell? Well, even if they do, hopefully my loss of the ability to smell things is due mostly to the nasty cold which I am in the process of heroically conquering, and not to the fact that I am now the oldest living being inhabiting my apartment. Anyway, I came home from work today to teach piano lessons; the apartment was a little messy, so I tidied up the living room a bit while I was waiting for my first student to arrive. His mom dropped him off (a cute little nine-year-old boy) and he came and knocked on the front door. I let him in, and as he walked inside, he said very bluntly, "It SMELLS in here." I was horrified, but I couldn't smell a thing. Then, he elaborated: "It smells like garlic bread...my favorite!" Yes, the apartment reeked of garlic, and I couldn't smell it. Ayayayayay.
In other news, I think my new room roomie (Hailee) and I will be getting along quite nicely. I like her a lot. We had a little heart-to-heart over some DiGiorno pizza tonight, which, incidentally, we both happen to love. She can certainly make me laugh. And...I can see that she might be more than "occasionally boisterous" once in a while, but not in the shrill, obnoxious, twittery, fake, girly "look at me, boys! Look at me!" kind of way that I find extremely annoying after being exposed to more than five seconds of it. Another of my roommates, Melissa, also seems pretty sweet. Plus, she brought home brownies from her softball game for Hailee and me tonight, and that *definitely* makes the "How to make Britny think you're awesome" list.
Last but not least: do ancient people lose their sense of smell? Well, even if they do, hopefully my loss of the ability to smell things is due mostly to the nasty cold which I am in the process of heroically conquering, and not to the fact that I am now the oldest living being inhabiting my apartment. Anyway, I came home from work today to teach piano lessons; the apartment was a little messy, so I tidied up the living room a bit while I was waiting for my first student to arrive. His mom dropped him off (a cute little nine-year-old boy) and he came and knocked on the front door. I let him in, and as he walked inside, he said very bluntly, "It SMELLS in here." I was horrified, but I couldn't smell a thing. Then, he elaborated: "It smells like garlic bread...my favorite!" Yes, the apartment reeked of garlic, and I couldn't smell it. Ayayayayay.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
A gash, a rash, and purple bumps
In honor of my having lain in bed all day being deathly ill (or at least suffering from a very sudden and nasty cold that makes me feel deathly ill), here is one of my favorite poems from Shel Silverstein:
"I cannot go to school today"
Said little Peggy Ann Mckay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash, and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry.
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox.
And there's one more--that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue,
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke.
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in.
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My toes are cold, my toes are numb,
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There's a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is...
What? What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is...Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"
"I cannot go to school today"
Said little Peggy Ann Mckay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash, and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry.
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox.
And there's one more--that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue,
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke.
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in.
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My toes are cold, my toes are numb,
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There's a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is...
What? What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is...Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Worry and angst and dread, oh my
The conversation I overheard my two new roommates having as I walked through the living room and up the stairs a few minutes ago:
Roommate #1: This is getting boring.
Roommate #2: Well, maybe because we've been sitting here watching TV for the past six straight hours.
Silence.
And they continue watching.
Same scenario yesterday--they didn't stop watching until nearly 2:00 (yes, in the a.m.). Our apartment is littered with all sorts of boxes and random "stuff," which I would think (and hope) they would want to get put away, having been here since Saturday. But apparently old reruns of America's Next Top Model and Reba are much more enticing. *sigh* The kitchen is a disaster area, in every sense of the word. There are dishes and containers and silverware and you-name-it toppled EVERYwhere. Seriously, there is a tiny little spot on the kitchen table and one chair available in which to sit, and that's only because I cleared it off yesterday so that I could have a spot to eat my dinner. I have a feeling I should kiss good-bye my preference for cleanliness, not to mention peace and quiet. My two roommates who are here have already warned me (repetitively) that my room roommate who will shortly be moving in (the day after tomorrow) is "really loud and messy. She's a really nice girl, though. But definitely loud. And really messy. We can all be loud sometimes, of course. We're girls, right? But...well, she's really loud. And messy."
Yikes.
Well, I hope I'm just overanalyzing and that, really, things are still in a chaotic state merely because we have so little space in the apartment and it's hard to find a place to put things away. And maybe my roommates are just watching as much television as they can this week so as to be all stocked up when school starts so that they don't have to waste time watching it then. And maybe "really loud and really messy" just means "occasionally boisterous and not quite as neat as a pin."
We shall see.
Roommate #1: This is getting boring.
Roommate #2: Well, maybe because we've been sitting here watching TV for the past six straight hours.
Silence.
And they continue watching.
Same scenario yesterday--they didn't stop watching until nearly 2:00 (yes, in the a.m.). Our apartment is littered with all sorts of boxes and random "stuff," which I would think (and hope) they would want to get put away, having been here since Saturday. But apparently old reruns of America's Next Top Model and Reba are much more enticing. *sigh* The kitchen is a disaster area, in every sense of the word. There are dishes and containers and silverware and you-name-it toppled EVERYwhere. Seriously, there is a tiny little spot on the kitchen table and one chair available in which to sit, and that's only because I cleared it off yesterday so that I could have a spot to eat my dinner. I have a feeling I should kiss good-bye my preference for cleanliness, not to mention peace and quiet. My two roommates who are here have already warned me (repetitively) that my room roommate who will shortly be moving in (the day after tomorrow) is "really loud and messy. She's a really nice girl, though. But definitely loud. And really messy. We can all be loud sometimes, of course. We're girls, right? But...well, she's really loud. And messy."
Yikes.
Well, I hope I'm just overanalyzing and that, really, things are still in a chaotic state merely because we have so little space in the apartment and it's hard to find a place to put things away. And maybe my roommates are just watching as much television as they can this week so as to be all stocked up when school starts so that they don't have to waste time watching it then. And maybe "really loud and really messy" just means "occasionally boisterous and not quite as neat as a pin."
We shall see.
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