OK. This will be fast as I am supposed to be driving to Boston to see the lovely boyfriend for New Years and as usual, I can't seem to get out the door. i had already written something, but then I accidentally closed the window which is supremely frustrating! Anyway, I wanted to post something since I have Blogger Guilt. :)

Happy New Year's to all! My 2002 be the year I find a job! (Sheesh... ANY TIME YOU'RE READY, FATE! JUST LET ME KNOW!) I will miss all of you in New York, Chicago and DC, but I will call your cell phones to wish you a Happy New Year! It has been wonderful seeing everyone over the holidays! :)

Perhaps the best gift of Christmas was Gwen's Fighting Amish Puppet, which was given to her by Alissa. It was a big hit at the Gaul celebration, especially with Larry, who said, "Oh my GAWD... Isn't that SOMETHING?" Little did I know as Alissa was searching for it online and going a little nutty trying to find a reputable place online to purchase one, Stephen was selling them all along in the magic shop. Go figure. Well, if anyone else needs a punching puppet (Apparently, they sell the fighting nun, devil, Amish guy and rabbi) you know where to go now. Stephen allegedly likes to make the nun fight with the devil in a battle of good and evil while he stands in the top hat. He works on Wednesday, and I CAN NOT WAIT to see him do his thing. :)

ALRIGHT. Really must be starting my 7.5 hour trip now. Love to you all! Have a safe and happy new year!

OKay, feeling a little less immature and petty today, so I am going to talk about something else.

I am so tired. TIRED. I have been really busy lately, and I think I am just crashing after all of the stress. Things went fine at the AP and with the wedding photographer, by the way. The wedding photographer is much cooler than I could have hoped for. I am excited to work for her. I think I am going to learn a lot from her. She looked at my portfolio and some work that I did for two recent weddings and said that I need to start charging a minimum of $3, 000 a wedding. I was totally, totally blown away. I am a little bummed that I won't be around on Saturday, which is like the first day that everyone else is around Lancaster, but I will see you guys a lot after that.

Well, I am still at Alissa's house in Philly, so i need to get home and get to work at the shop. More later, bebes. :)

Hey y'all... I hope you all got my email and found your way here. Sorry for changing horses midstream, but the most importnat thing for you all to know is that I HATE HARLAN LANDES. He just broke my best friend's heart in the slimiest way imaginable. Frankly, I want to chop off his head and poop down the hole in his neck.

If you feel the same way, I suggest you go to www.harlansucks.blogspot.com

But lemme tell you how I really feel.


Sigh....

Well, I have come to the shocking discovery that I am not unemployed. I am self-employed. I actually now have my own FedEX account. Scary. I have four jobs, and I have not had a day off in ten days.

Also, I bought a coupon holder. I have a dog, a coupon holder and a FedEX account. Does this mean I am officially a grown up? I don't know. I don't think so. I think I will really be a grown up when I no longer live with my parents.

About that, though.... I have since come to a tentative peace with that. I am so busy working at my four jobs and searching for a fifth and eventually only one that I sometimes go days without seeing them. Also, food just appears in the refrigerator without any expense or effort on my part, which is nice. And someday, God forbid, when my parents are gone, I think I will feel very, very lucky that I had this time with them.

The thing about being self-employed is that I hate charging people for my work. I wish i could just give my work away for free or barter for it. I hate money. It's so hard. But seriously, I have to "get my bitch on," as Best Reporter Ever Michele would say. Seriously, I figured out what I will end up making an hour after all is said and done for this very big job that I am doing for not much money. It works out to $.75 an hour. Frankly, I could make more working for Nike in Indonesia. Of course, I had a childhood, and I can take bathroom breaks whenever I want, so ultimately I have the better deal.

Tomorrow is a scary, scary day where I go to Philadelphia and meet with the senior photo editor of the AP in Philly who will tell me whether i did a good job on my first assignment. He wants to see the entire take, as I mentioned before. For you non-photo types, having someone look at the entire take of your shoot- your contact sheets or negatives or digital thumbnails- is like being naked, whereas showing someone the final edit- which is all cropped and color corrected and dodged and burned- is like wearing your most flattering dress with control top pantyhose. Sorry, men, that illustration may not be too useful for you, but you catch my drift.

Also, I have a meeting with a very big, top notch wedding photographer in Philadelphia who hired me via a friend of mine (who I just realized won a Pulitzer in 1999, which makes him a much more intimidating person- he's not even 30) for this Saturday, and if it goes well, she says she may give me work on a regular basis. I don't even want to be a wedding photographer, (as a career), but she has a fashion background, and I will learn a lot of from working with her, and all of this is making me a much more well-rounded shooter, but she is very scary. I just have a lot of pressure in my life right now. I am working under stressful conditions.

Anyone (that is, Jason) want to go out for drink tomorrow night to either celebrate my survival or drown my sorrows? :)

I will be grateful for the holiday. YAY! All of you lovely Old Friends coming into town. I can't wait to see all of you! I will be out of town this Saturday, but other than that, you can reach me on my cell phone or at home. La la la!

Oh, and there was some confusion about my entry on 12/13/01. Some people read it and interpreted that Stephen and I broke up. But as you probably deduced from the entry on the next day, we are getting along beautifully. The ex-boyfriend I was referring to was the groom of the wedding, an ex from a long time ago. When I said "so-called 'boyfriend' of three years" I meant that if Stephen got lost and didn't show, then people would think I was making him up. When I referred to myself as the "lonely, fat, sad ex-girlfriend," the exgirlfriend status applies to my relationship with the groom. This message has been brought to you by the Clarification Committee. :)

Okay. All is well. The wedding photos do not suck. I am rather proud, to tell you the truth. Stephen did not get lost. He showed up with thirty minutes to spare and met the entire wedding party, including Jon, (and a bunch of Old School Band Friends from way back in the day- Mark Rohrbach, Geoff Boyer, Dave Trendler, etc.) while changing in the bathroom. I am assuming that Stephen was changing in a stall but to be honest I didn't ask for extensive details and given how weirded out I already was I do not want to know. That sentence is begging for commas. Anyway...

I find shooting weddings in general to be rather stressful. Everyone wants the lovely pictures, but they also want to get to the reception asfastashumanlypossible (How e.e. cummings of me) and it takes time to do it right. Everyone was patient at this wedding, but I still feel a bit under the gun about the whole affair. (This goes for all weddings) But anyway.... Heather, Jon's new wife, is a really lovely person, and she went out of her way to be really sweet to me, and invite me to hang out with the bridesmaids, etc. Her friends are a fun bunch, and it was really interesting to see Dave, Geoff and Mark again.

Seeing them opened up a floodgate of memories that I completely forgot about. Do you remember Super Band Rap?

I am going to have a "Sophia" a la Golden Girls moment.

Picture it: Landsivlle, 1993. Mark Rohrbach, wearing a backwards baseball cap and sunglasses leading that Black Knight Marching Band- not one person of color among us- in a "rap" that went "We are the band, the super band,/ We'll blow you right off the map./ We've got the moves,/ We're in the groove,/ doin' the Super Band Rap..." It was pathetic; I'm sorry, but it was. Now, Mark did not do or even mention Super Band Rap. He probably doesn't remember it. But when I was telling Kelly about seeing him, she suddenly remembered it and anyway, this seemed funnier when I was thinking about it before. Also, Jon and Geoff did the "Humpty Dance" at the reception. It was pretty funny. I had completely forgotten about that. They used to do it at like, Band Fun Night and the Halloween party. Anyone else remember? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

It was nice to be an old friend's wedding and feel like they were doing the right thing. They are very obviously in love and right for each other, which is refreshing after going to the scary "train wreck/bad idea" wedding over the summer.

Anyway, the very best thing about the reception was being with Stephen. We mostly made fun of the Overtly Sexual Couple, (people we don't know) consisting of Inappropriate Dress Girl (I swear, it looked like she just wrapped a sparkly --spaaaahkly-- napkin around herself) and her Sultry Boyfriend. You know the couple. There's one at every wedding. They made out all over the dance floor, and mouthed the words to "Angel Eyes" to each other, and he danced with one arm around her with a hand on her butt, and one arm hanging down at his side like he was about to grab a gun out of a holster if anyone got too close to Inapppropriate Dress Girl. Stephen kept imitating Sultry Boyfriend and saying "I am.... El Hombre!" (You really have to hear/see him do it). Definitely a Pirates of Penzance Moment.

I get the feeling that this entry is not nearly as entertaining to anyone else but me. The upshot is, I was worried about nothing. As usual.

Which reminds me, I did my first AP assignment today. It went well. I spent a lot of time with the subjects. It was a really good story. I am going into the office in Philly for a critique on my shooting, which is nerve-wrecking, especially because I encountered some technical difficulties. But all in all, I did my best, and hopefully that will be recognized. I am worried about my critique, but- like I just said, I usually worry over nothing. However, I worked nonstop for eleven hours today (AP shooting and then some freelance stuff) and I am exhausted. Goin' to bed.

I. AM. SO. NERVOUS. ABOUT. THIS. WEDDING.

This is not good. What if they think the photos I take suck? What if... and this is a very real possibility... that Stephen gets lost on the back roads he needs to take through East Bumblefreak to get to the church and he doesn't show up and I sit there all alone, fat, and sad while his friends and relatives laugh about the lonely, fat, sad ex-girlfriend peering anxiously at the door for the so-called "boyfriend" of three years to show up. OH MY GAWD.

Whew... That little melodrama aside, I have to tell you about a Traumatic Fish Incident. This is bad, but it has a happy ending.

It is not as traumatic as the famous Traumatic Fish Incident of 1987 in which both Amanda and I won fish at the Mountville Fun Fest (We went there because my mom was a teachers' aide at Mountville when i was in first and second grade), and I was sitting in the hatchback of my mom's old red "Tahete" Datsun, and as I was talking to Amanda and Brad Plotner who were sitting in teh backseat, Amanda leaned back and popped my fish bag. The fish flopped around on the seat, Amanda was screaming and nearly jumping (literally) out of the open window of the car (We were stopped at the stoplight by Hadyn Zug's), my mom thought one of us was dying, and Brad, being my Personal Hero for Fish Bravery and Other Things, calmly picked up my fish, opened Amanda's fish bag and put mine in with hers, and consequently saved the day. But, as usual, I digress.

The Current Traumatic Fish Incident occurred when Mary Wolstonecraft apparently got too close to our aquarium filter and it tried to suck her up. She was wriggling around for an unknown amount of time when I happened upon the scene. I am pretty brave about things like heights and scary bugs, but the thought of reaching in and physically pulling her away from the sucking filter creeped me out, so I tried unplugging the filter. She didn't come out. So I tried to shake her loose. Bad idea. Mary Wolstonecraft became more hysterical. Then I realized that I still heard the filter whirring, and realized that I had unplugged Senor Tortuga's filter and not the fish tank's filter. I unplugged it, and she plopped out and back into the tank. She was a little wonky all day yesterday. Her mouth was stuck in a permanent open fish mouth O, but now it's fine.

By the way, Senor Tortuga promptly remounted his filter when it started vibrating again (after I plugged it back in) and continued to make love to it until I left for work.

I pay my humble respects to Shauna, who has the Ultimate Traumatic Fish Incident that I have heard to date, and to the memory of Meatball 1, Gwen and Laura's fish who died in the arms of a miniature Scary Spice doll at the bottom of his aquarium, just before Thanksgiving.

I am sorry, I am sorry. I have certainly not been sounding my barbaric yawp lately, which is supremely unfair to Annie most of all, because she just got her blog up and running and then I don;t even have the decency to write interesting things on my site while she is still on her Blogger Honeymoon. Sigh... AND WHY DON"T ANYONE'S COMMENTS WORK!?!?!

The thing is, my life isn't terribly interesting right now. I go to IU substitute teacher training (tomorrow is the last day, thank goddess) which, frankly, sucks my butt. Then I frantically run errands for a little while before I go to work at Alissa's mom's shop where I "help" people (today I nearly had to give a woman $206 in change because I forgot to put a decimal point between the 2 and the 0), make gift baskets, run errands and run the thin blade of scissors over hundred of feet of curling ribbon, which is actually kind of fun. But it is working in retail over the holidays, and there are like, 500 "Saved by the Bell" episodes of how NOT FUN that can be (Do we all remember the episode where Zach put a $20 bill in the pay phone change slot for the homeless man/father of the girl he liked to find because it was Christmas? Feminist Angie just doesn't know where to begin with that one), but it's fine. Then I come home smelling like scented candles and potpourri and talk a lot on my cell phone to the people who generally read this site, except for Nick with whom I am playing Phone Tag and Scott, to whom I do not talk nearly enough.

Yup, that's about it. However, I did sign a contract to freelance with the AP, which is awesome and may lead to good things all around, AND they gave me my first assignment, which is a real, very cool assignment. The photo editor wants me to drive into Philly early next week, though, so he can critique the shoot, which is fine albeit nerve-wracking, but I figure the more face-to-face, open-to-criticism, eager-to-learn, and enthusiastic-about-this-opportunity time I put in, the better. I AM SO EXCITED!!!! Today, when I called the subject of the story, I actually got to say, "Hi. I am a photojournalist with the Associated Press, and I am calling about a story...." RAH!!!

Jon Hughes is getting married, which is very, very strange for me. Stephen is coming down for the wedding, and I totally can not wait to see him. It's strange, not in a "I'm jealous, it should be me" way, but in a very "You are my first love and it's just plain weird" way. I can't explain it.

I am going to go wrap some Christmas presents. I will write more tomorrow.

By the way, I also got four goldfish for our newly cleaned and improved aquarium. They are named Mary Wollstonecraft, Andrea Dworkin, Susan B. Anthony and bell hooks. Apparently, they are feminist fish.

Today I went to an all-day workshop-- my first of three- to get my emergency substitute teacher certificate for PA. I get there early, ans as I eat my complimentary bagel and drink my shockingly weak coffee, I keep hearing this voice in my head being like, "What are you doing? This isn't what you want! This isn't what you want to do withyour life! These kids are going to Eat. You. Alive. Go! Go now! Go back to bed!"

So I beat the voice back with the Reality Stick, saying "Life isn't fair. You gotta do what you gotta do. You have valuable skills and experiences to offer these kids. You'll be a photojournalist again before you know it. Stay. Stay!" when suddenly I see- two rows in front of me, wearing a sea-foam green blazer, the one, the only- Shannon Edwards. (dunt dunt duh) The xylophone destroying, sexually harassing, scary groping, ultimate high school band geek hanger-on from the class of like, 1992 or 1993, who practically mauled me to death at a Christmas concert in 1998.

This of course sets off a chorus of voices screaming at me to flee! Flee! FLEE THE IU BUILDING! and then I think, "At least this will make a good story for my weblog. Sigh....

Then I came home and made a bunch of job-hunting phone calls. No offers on the table yet.

I am Snozzleberryland comments. Do I work?

Hello, all! This will be short as Jason is on his way here so that we can go electronics and puppy shopping, and here I sit in my pajamas. Last night we rented a movie and made s'mores in my fireplace even though it was 60 degrees outside. Yay, Jason! :) We watched Best in Show since Jason is in a very "Gonna Get a Dog" place right now. That movie cracks me up every time.

So... Since Stephen never reads this site, does anyone have any good suggestions for him for Christmas? I was thinking I would get him tickets to a show. Being the stage actor that he is, he doesn't like musicals of the Les Mis variety. I got him to go see the Lion King in London, arguing that Julie Taymor is a genius and that it was a whole new innovative step for theater with teh infusion of puppetry, etc. So New Yorkers, any good "serious" theater suggestions? Is there anything by Tom Stoppard on Broadway right now? I guess I could just go buy a NY Times, but I am open to your suggestions. It's hard thinking of good, creative, fun, romantic gifts for him. This is our fourth Christmas.

I have already given him all the pictures in frames, cologne, boxers type stuff that come with the first year of dating-- the books, CD-ROM games, toys and bizarre things that reflect his interests in the second and third years of dating-- and I have even done the surprise you with romantic trips to Bed and Breakfasts and expensive electronics thing. I was going to try and surprise him with something REALLY big (which I won't say here on the off chance that he is reading this), but I don't know if I can afford it... You see my quandary. I am sure now that I have shot down all of those previous ideas that you all are as stumped as I am. Oh, and past girlfriends have given him the exotic pet- an iguana named Sting- thing, so that's sort of out, too.

Right. Jason is on way. Must. Go. Put. On. Clothes. Shit! Doorbell Ringing.

okay, so Gwen fixed my comments and now the Snozzberry people say I have to reinstall it because they changed their site and I AM SO SICK OF THIS CRAP. Just a little venting for you folks out there, brought to you by our PMS Committee.

DON'T READ THIS NEXT PART IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THE SUBJECT OF WOMEN'S HEALTHCARE!!! OKay? Jason, are you still reading? Well, stop until I say it's safe. Tomorrow I have to go to the "gynie" (as HEF coined the phrase... Remember when we were talking about the gynie in Greg Supple's basement and his stepfather walked in and he had obviously heard the whole thing? Yeah. That was embarrassing in a very funny way.) So not looking forward to that. Just a little reminder to do your monthly self-breast exams in solidarity, okay? :)

IT'S SAFE TO RESUME READING...

Working for Alissa's mom is very fun. I don't have to talk to customers or anything. I get to hang out in the stock room and tie ribbons on things and wrap presents for people and attach pretty cards to brown paper bags and turn them into gift bags and fluff artificial Christmas trees. It's actually very relaxing.

I am procrastinating. I have to go finish working on my CD-ROM Portfolio version 2.0. Almost done. Just have to print labels and burn CDs and stuff. I have done nothing but eat, sleep, work at Country N' More, and work on this CD for the last three days. Seriously, I worked harder on the CD in three days than I did all semester. It's new and improved, but it still has some quirks. Sigh....

Oh, and I also yelled at Alissa in German to work on her paper. :) MACH SCHNELL! ARBEIT MACH FREI!

Gwen is good! Gwen is great! She fixed my comments and the error message issues! I was totally hovering, impatient and mean while she fixed them, and she was nice about it even though she is very tired. :) Hooray for old friends who understand you. (Hey, Old Friends! Now you can comment on this page, and it won't be like sucky reblogger!) :) I smudged her with incense to thank her in the Goddess tradition.

I got the incense out of my sacred space, (a quasi-private meditation area that some of you have been in) which is now very clean. I had wax all over it, but I got this great candle wax remover stuff from Alissa's mom's store, and it really worked. I didn't think that it would, really, but it did. Also, I am going to work for Alissa's mom sometimes, which is very exciting. I am getting a very eclectic post-graduate work experience, what with the freelancing and the interning and the substitute teaching and the occasional retail/stock-type stuff. It will be fun when I am older to list all of my jobs, like SARK does.

Here is a partial list off the top of my head: babysitter, snack bar worker, dishwasher, short order cook, cashier, hostess, waitress, telemarketer, saleswoman, clerical staff, band bus captain, quartermaster (hey, I got paid to do those things-- work study in college), librarian, receptionist, image technician, photojournalist, pet and wedding photographer, substitute teacher and now temp stocker/craft store employee. Hmmm.... This life is amazing! I wonder what I will be in the next one.... :)

Also, today was the 50th birthday of the woman who can teach phonics while wiping noses, prosecute child abusers, waitress like nobody's business, read books with perfect voice inflections, knew how important it was to be the first parent in line to pick me up from kindergarten/CCD/Band Camp/Parents' Weekend, bake a delicious casserole and look gorgeous in 25 different shades of burgundy lipstick. Happy birthday, Mom!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Family and friends are starting to arrive, so this will be short. :) This year I am most thankful for good health for all in my family. We had too many broken bones, trips to the hospital and painful journeys last winter, and so I am grateful for the resiliency of my family. I am also gratefull for the steadfastness of my friends, who never cease to amaze me.

Larry is here right now talking to my mother in the hallway outside of the computer room. She is telling him that Amanda and Tom did not drive from Boston; they flew. He's saying, "They FLE-EWWWW!" At the very least, I'll get some good new material!

Here's wishing you all a PEACEFUL holiday.

My sister is here, tra la la. Annie is in town, and Nick is on his way, and Jason doesn't have to work, and I can have lunch with Alissa on Friday, and Gwen will be here soon! La la la! No more loneliness for the rest of the week!! :)

I sat outside today in the freezing cold for eight hours straight with half an hour for lunch. I also did that yesterday. It was unbelievably cold. I sat in my lawn chair. The highlight of my day was when Paul, one of my co-workers, brought me unbelievably delicious soup. It was the perfect temperature- not so hot that it burns your mouth, but definitely very hot. I was huddled next to this wall which was sort of out of the wind.

Had another fight with mom. Grrrrr.... Hate that.

Wow, I really have to be better about blogging. I only wrote once last week. Anyway, I SAW THE HARRY POTTER MOVIE!! I really, really liked it. I had a lot of fun.

Alissa and I got up at stupid o'clock in the morning to go see it- No, wait, first we got up at Really Stupid O'Clock to see the meteor showers, which were unbelieavable. I was sound asleep on Gwen's couch in DC when Gwen, Alissa, Greg (SOOO GOOD TO SEE GRAC!!!) and Heather and I ventured out to find a dark, noncloudy, fog-free place to watch them around 4 a.m. I kept falling asleep in the car, to be awoken by lovely friends as we arrived at each new place, only to discover it was too bright, too foggy, etc. to get back in the car and fall asleep again until we found a good spot. It was almost supernatural, it was so beautiful.

We then went back to sleep for an hour until Alissa and I went to the 8 a.m. showing of the Harry Potter movie. It was very fun. I think they did a really good job on it, but I have to say that I like the books better. There were some things about the movie that I actually liked better than the way I was imagining them, whihc was kind of nice. Alissa and I were both struck by the same notion that marching bands everywhere will be using the John Williams score for field shows for the next few years. We were even imagining that the drum majors will be wearing Hogwarts robes and pointed hats and the colorguard will run across the field with t-bar flags depicting the banners of each of the four houses of Hogwarts and doing guard work with various sized balls during music from the Quidditch sequences. Band geeks, never say die! :)

On a more serious note, I have a topic for discussion/comment. Thanksgiving is coming up, and as usual, we have invited a very mixed crowd of people to have dinner at our house. Some of these people are my grandmother's friends, who are middle-aged and elderly people. Now, all of you know that hold I deeply radical feminist views. Part of my philosophy regarding my politics realtes to my belief that activists who are committed to social change should interrupt racist/sexist/classist, etc. moments wherever and whenever they occur (unless they are espoused by Nick, who desperately wants a rise out of me, which I now refuse give him, because once I am officially "risen," I have, in the past, had homocidal tendencies. Those of you who witnessed the "You hate me, but you love me" incident of 1998 will attest to this). This actually has led to some very tense moments in recent months when I have been eating dinner with these people at my grandmother's house, and they make racist comments, largely relating to immigrants, people of the Islamic faith, and other people who wear turbans, including but not limited to Sikhs, people taking chemo and Daddy Warbucks' manservant Punjab, from the beloved musical Annie.

Okay, I was kidding there a little bit, but seriously... My parents were furious with me when I curtly explained, at a recent dinner, that Sikhs practice an entirely different religion altogether and such comments are inappropriate. One woman was deeply offended when she thought my grandmother had a plumber named Mohammed (his name is Mahoney) because she "wouldn't want one of those people in her house," etc, etc.

If I were to have my way, I would not break bread with these people. They would not be welcome at my table, certainly not at a celebration where we call to mind all that we are grateful for. I am of the belief that if one is not part of the solution, then he or she is part of the problem. Furthermore, I believe that if one is not outraged about oppression in all its forms, then one is not paying attention. I know that is not a popular opinion.

My mom is also uncomfortable with these people's racist comments, etc., and she believes that we should say something if racist comments are made at the Thanksgiving dinner table, but not if it would embarrass anyone. My dad thinks that these people are good at heart, that they say things out of ignorance, that they "do it for comic relief," and since they aren't actually out committing hate crimes, it's okay, we can't "teach old dogs new tricks," just let it go, it's a holiday, etc, etc. My mother said she "lives in fear" not of them saying racist things about the war, etc., but of my causing an awkward moment by not tolerating it. So.... What to do? Any thoughts?

Hello, all... Well, I am bored to death, this being my third official day as a freelancer, while I am not actually freelancing because I am waiting to hear about some job opportunities, and I don't want to put myself on freelancer lists if I have to take myself off almost immediately. Sigh... I hate waiting for the phone to ring.

I had a very fun time at championships with HEF this past weekend! Actually, I got more one-on-one Heather bonding trime than I think I have ever had in my life, which was great! (Thank you, HEF!) I was driving us home in the rural area north of Lititz at one in the morning with practically no gas at all. All of the gas stations were closed. We were actually going up to pumps, inserting the turned off hose, and squeezing whatever drops we could into the tank. Bad news, bear. It would have been fine, we would have called AAA, but it was still risky and stupid nonetheless. We saw a gas station that was still open just in time.

In the meantime, I have cleaned the house, read all of Harry Potter IV again, made a bunch of Christmas presents, wrapped almost all of my Christmas presents, done three loads of laundry, ironed a month's worth of clothing, written half a dozen letters, went to Root's with my parents, watched a LOT of television, faxed a resume and cover letter to a place where I am going to teach photography and made a bunch of long distance phone calls. My main goal for today is to install my new CD-burner on my computer.

I really should be working on my new CD-ROM portfolio. That's my goal for next week is to do a complete redesign. I have already gathered up the raw materials.

I AM SO BORED..... Please, please come visit me and entertain me!!! Can't wait to see everyone for Thanksgiving. :)

Tomorrow I am going to Allentown with HEF to see Hempfield compete in band championships. I have not seen the band since I graduated. I am now old enough not to be considered one of those pathetic hangers-on, and besides, Heather's brother is the drum major.

On Band Fun Night 1995, Heather gave me her glow-in-the-dark triangle. It was great. When I did my last will and testament (which Mr. Powers threatened to disband my senior year) , I willed them to Lauren Groff, with instrauctions for her to pass them on. Then, I know they went to Liz Stacks, who willed one to Martha Fuchs and one to Amanda Kramer (Meg and Ben's sisters, respectively) with the instructions that they should pass them on. So I am curious to know... Are they still around? Will Martha will them on to the next Pit Grrl? I think maybe I will ask tomorrow.

That may, however, make me seem like a pathetic hanger-on.

Oh. My. Goddess.

All of you, seriously, need to go to my Soapbox. Right now. Now matter what your politics are, you need to see this. I could throw up. Racism is alive and well. Here is a good example of things that can go horribly, horribly wrong in SOME (not all, not all) factions of the Greek system.

Holy shit.

Grumble. Blarg. I am trying to fix the stupid comments so that the counter works again, but so far the only thing that I have been able to accomplish is making A> appear next to my comments. If all I wanted to do was make A> appear next to my comments counter, do you think I wold be able to? No, of course not. And I was so proud of myself because I installed some new tricky software on my computer all by myself. Maybe I am only allowed to have one computer miracle per day.

Yesterday, I went to the Hempfield Craft Show. My mom's best friend from college (whom everyone, even at the age of 50, still calls Kuhlen-- her last name-- which makes me happy to think I'll still be calling Enders "Enders" and Wetzel "Wetzel" 28 years from now) was in town. So Kuhlen was here, and she is very fun and cool, and they were going to the Hempfield Craft Show and they asked me if I wanted to go, and I was like, "I like craft shows. I like Kuhlen. I benefitted from the scholarship fund that the craft show supports. I'll go."

Hmmm.... Somehow, things did not compute in my brain. Why did I not realize that practically every teacher I ever had and didn't want to see (as in, I did not see Doc Kondravy, Mrs. Wetzel or Mrs. Minnich) would be there? Why did I not realize that the food they would be selling would be hot dogs with sauerkraut and those subs I used to eat every day in junior high with the mysterious pink meat such that the whole craft fair smelled like the school cafeteria? Why did I not realize I would run into the mothers of a bunch of people I lost touch with four years ago? Why did it not make sense to me that my fourth grade teacher- who was pregnant when I had her; we were so excited- would be there and her son (who I went to see the day he come home from the hospital) would be like, 12, and running around in a soccer uniform. Why did I go? What was I thinking? What? Why? Why? WHY?

It was not that traumatic. It was just very strange. I ran into this teacher that people used to refer to as "Mrs. Fetterf*cker." (Not her real name) She was with Mrs. Shenk, my 8th grade science teacher who of course remembers me because 8th grade was the cow manure/Science Fair Jr. Grand Champion year (If you don't know about me doing a five-year long project about cow manure and my local fame, we probably became friends in college-- I'll tell you sometime over a bottle of wine). Mrs. Shenk was all, "Angie, hi! How ARE you?" And Mrs. Fetterf*cker was like, "Didn't I have you?" and I was like "No, actually, I don't think so," but all I can hear in my brain is "Mrs. Fetterf*cker. Mrs. Fetterf*cker." It was like that scene in Bridget Jones' Diary (the movie version) where she has to introduce her boss Mr. Fitzherbert, and all she can think is "Mr. Titspervert." Luckily, I didn't slip away and exited the conversation quickly enough. Sigh.....

It did occur to me, though, that when and if I end up substitute teaching, I will be having similar experiences every day. Stay tuned....

So today I took a much needed sick day, as I was having all sorts of feverish, nausea issues last night. I told myself I would do a bunch of things, including resting of course, that I have been putting off doing for a few weeks now. But the very first thing I wanted to do was wake up when my body told me to- which turned out to be at 3:00 this afternoon. I had some very strange dreams, too, which you may find interesting.

I am also working on a very fun new craft project where I have decided to paint a broom. I asked Alissa where I could buy one with a wooden handle, since this is the sort of thing that Alissa knows, and she was very bummed because apparently she had been planning on painting me a broom for Christmas. I almost wish Alissa was the one making the painted broom afterall, because she is very good at things like that. :) I never got around to broom-painting today.

By the way, the new Femail Creations catalogue (where the idea to paint brooms came from) is awesome, and in case anyone did not know what to get me for Christmas/Solstice, the beaded fruit basket, the incense bottles (especially the one with the Goddess on it), and the compass necklace that says "Search" on it, all rock my modern young adult world. :) They're way more expensive that anyone who reads this page can afford, so really I am saying this for the benefit of Random Wealthy Web Surfers who may wish to shower me with presents. For those of you who are not Random Wealthy Web Surfers, your friendship and love are priceless presents, and all I really need.

Although, a job would be nice. My internship is over at the end of next week, and then I am back to freelancing. I am also doing some training sessions to be a substitute teacher, which should be interesting. I am trying very hard not to be frustrated by the whole job-hunting-in-a-sucky-economy process.

Positive. I am staying focused on the positive.

Arg. Just wrote a somewhat longish entry and then deleted it before I posted it. Boo! I was telling you all a really cute story about Stephen's friend Jenn from school who performed in the show Stephen and I went to see on Friday night and now it's gone forever, and I can't be bothered to repeat it. Sucks, sucks, sucks.

I photographed a woman being ordained as a Lutheran bishop tonight. No little old ladies harangued me for photographing in the church, which is good. I definitely worked through some of my "shooting in church" phobia, which is also very good. I photographed the bishop about two weeks ago, when we did a special profile on her. (She's the first female bishop in PA, and only the fifth in the country) Tonight's assignment was like a follow-up thing. She was so nice to work with two weeks ago that I was really happy for her tonight, which made sitting through the two-hour service and waiting thirty-five minutes to get close enough to her to take a close-up celebratory hug shot seem a lot less tiresome.

The Lutheran ceremony was exactly like a Catholic service, (I mean, EXACTLY, the music, prayers, responsorials, everything) with the exception of the presence of female clergy. It was really interesting. I kept thinking about this button HEF has on her backpack that says, "Ordain women or stop baptizing them." If the Catholic church did start ordaining women, would they be called "priests" or "priestesses," do you think? Oh well. It won't happen during this particular papacy.

Now I have this song by Meryn Cadell going through my head. The chorus of the song has a repeating line that goes, "The pope, pope, pope." (I would really have to sing this for you to get the full effect, but it's a very funny, albeit irreverant song.)

The pope, pope, pope.

Remind me sometime to tell you the story about seeing the Pope in Vienna where I started hallucinating and nearly passed out from heat exhaustion. At one point, I thought I saw angels descending from the Hapsburg Palace. It made me happy because I figured that if I died, I would stop being thirsty. Then this really nice Austrian family gave me some Pepsi and the hallucinations stopped shortly thereafter.

The pope, pope, pope.

By the way, Stephen is 23 today!

New article about women's health Up on My Soapbox... If you've been taking prescription meds, you need to read this.

What are you guys doing? Why aren't you blogging? Nick, did they actually find some work for you to do at your temp job? :) Tee hee. I am teasing. I am only blogging regularly because-- essentially, I have no life.

Actually, that's not true. Jason and I hung out twice this week, which was great, and I have a fabulous weekend planned.

Stephen is on his way here RIGHT NOW- (phone ringing, it's him! Hooray! He's a bit lost north of Lititz. He's following a mud-splattered pickup truck with a bumper sticker that says "Country Boy" and he swears that the men in front of him have no teeth. I have no idea how he can see their teeth. Anyway...) I can't wait for him to get here. We're going to Poe Evermore at the Ren Faire tonight, and then we're eating at the Little Corner of Germany (haven't been there since 1996 with Dave Kneier, whose sphincter turned inside out and absorbed his entire body... I'm sorry, but it's true...) which is a very fun, very yummy restaurant owned by an adorable elderly German couple, and then we're going to stay in a little country cottage I stumbled on in York County and then we're going to DC to visit his brother, sister-in-law and nephew, who is completely adorable and said his first word, "Mommy," last week.

My first word was "Sissy." (Hi, Manda!) Kelly's brother's first word was "Shit." I remember when Brad and Kristen Plotner taught Greg the phrase, "This tastes like shit." He had no idea what it meant; it was very funny when I was 7. What were your first words?

Can't wait, can't wait, can't wait. I haven't seen Stephen since August 6th. I am going to try really, really hard to never let it go this long again. Sigh....

Okay, so it's really late, and I should totally be asleep, but I wanted to write something so that all you cubicle dwellers out there (to borrow a phrase from Jason) have something to greet you in the morning. :)

My last few days have been really, really busy. Incidentally, going to atomic power plants when they are in an intense security lockdown and taking pictures of Scary Men with Big Guns after they tell you not to and then rushing around like an idiot, driving too fast (which is bad because if I get another ticket I have to go to Traffic School) to get to a field hockey game, of all things, is not generally not most people's idea of a "typical" work day. A very seasoned photographer was coaching me last week about what to do if security types (Scary Men with Big Guns count) try to take your film, camera, digital card, etc. His strategy mostly involves hiding rolls of film and digital cards in one's socks while handing over blank rolls. Little did I know how useful that advice was going to be...

It was fine. I have to say, that as I was getting back into my car after photographing SMWBGs that I felt very, very glad to live in America. I feel certain that if I tried to pull a stunt like that in say, China, that I would be dead. Dead, dead, dead. We are very lucky to have a free press in this country.

"A free press is essential to the survival of democracy." -S.I. Newhouse

On that note, good night. :)

Okay, here is how to install comments via reblogger.


1. Open up your Blogger template and insert the following code in the section:



2. Next you need to add a link within your blogger template that your readers can click on to view and post comments. Insert the following code whithin the tags in your template, where you want the link to appear:
Comment

3. Save the changes to your template and you're done.

These instructions with a little more information can be found here.

I hope that works. :) Good luck! I'll be sure to comment on people's sites so they don't have weblog loneliness when they ask insightful, funny questions such as "Do we really need a bigger McDonald's?" because no one answers them.... Sigh...

Tee hee. Only kidding. Just a little melodrama there...

Voila! It's Jason!!!! Go visit his "nonsensical ramblings from a cubicle dweller." :)

Last night Jason and I went over to Doc Holliday's and had a drink or two. I definitely needed to do that after yesterday. Yesterday was okay; it was just oh-so-very, very Monday. Sigh... But I had my "big brother" to listen to me rant and rave, so that was good.

I am thinking of founding the Assocation for Rejected Creative People. My internship is over in two-and-a-half weeks, and my future is still extremely uncertain. I have a plan of a attack, and a fairly decent Plan B in the works, but I think there should be some kind of organization for unemployed and/or soon-to-be-unemployed artists who are just craving for an opportunity to be given an opportunity, recognized, acknowledged or even paid. I don't know how this would work, but there would definitely be sessions where the artists are given Gratuitous Praise: "You're incredible! Your work is amazing! It changed my life! You're pretty!" and the RJCs could say, "Thank you! I'm so glad! Wow! I'm honored that my work touched you!"

Sigh...

Well, my boss just came in and asked me to go shoot the new Uber-McDonald's they're building on Rt. 30. Apparently, it's huge, and there's an electrician in a cherry-picker wearing a bright orange cowboy hat. They tore down a Long John Silver's, and they are building it right next to another McDonald's, which makes no sense. What are they going to do with the old McDonald's? And do we really need a bigger McDonald's?

Wenus. Wenus wenus wenus.

I think I made a giant wenus out of myself tonight.

I was just too much. You know how SARK talks about being "too much" and how people who are too much should have "too much" parades? Yeah, it was like that. I was a one-woman "too much" parade.

Sigh.... wenus.

Today I had a massage and it was excellent. I walked around feeling all new-agey, until I went to Weight Watchers and found out I didn't lose any weight at all. Sigh.. I have been cheating, just a little. I guess this reaffirms my committment to staying within the points. Also, my scary back knots knotted back up after about forty-minutes which detracted from the new-agey feeling, not just Weight Watchers. Have no fears, I thoroughly beat Compulsive Eater Angie with the Mentally Healthy Stick before I weighed in, so everything is fine in that department. I promise.

When I was getting my massage, Melissa the Excellent Massage Therapist hit one of the biggest scary knots, and I said, "Oh, there's one." and she said, "Yeah that guy just stood up and announced himself. 'My Name is Knot!'" she said, pretending to be the knot. It was very funny. I think she's great. I told her about SARK. She would love SARK.

I told her about SARK's bad massage with the crinkly paper, I think she talks about it in "Transformation Soup," and then I told her about the bad massage I got in Bethlehem in the summer of 2000. It was awful, the lady couldn't find my knots (God knows how) and she called in her boss and the boss yelled at her in front of me, (which was scary, especially because I was practically naked under the sheet) and then the boss told me "We're not doctors, you know," and I tried to be like, "Oh, I know, I've had massages before and they really helped, so I just thought..." and she said, "If you knew you had problems, you should have booked an hour massage," and I said, "Oh, I thought I did" and she said "No, you didn't, I just looked in the book," so I apologized profusely (Why? Why did I do that?) and I was so freaked out by this scary yelling boss (She was wearing a dumb white baseball cap inside, which was annoying, too) and I started to cry as soon as the boss left. Then the Scary Massage Lady said, "Please don't cry. Don't cry" and she put her arms around my head and put her mouth like, practically on my ear. I should have left, but I was too freaked out and still naked, I might add, so she tried again to find my knots, which she did, actually, but then we were out of time. When I went to pay, Scary Massage Lady said, "Oh. You were in the book for an hour," but she charged me for an hour anyway. I just wanted to get out of there, and I felt bad that her boss yelled at her, so I tipped her and left. (For someone who is not usually passive, I was having real issues that night.) Anyway, I cried and drove around Allentown (wouldn't you cry, if you were in Allentown?) and ultimately decided to dye my hair red, so I went to Superfresh (to buy hair dye, it was open all night) and dyed my hair Morrocan Spice red, which I am still trying to grow out, I might add.

Anyway, Melissa the Good Lancaster Massage Therapist was appropriately horrified and amused by my story. We laughed, we cried, (we didn't) it was better than Cats.

Every woman should have a good masage therapist, hairdresser and OB/GYN. I have decided, yes.

Okay, it's almost ten o'clock and I have been at work for thirteen hours, mostly because work is better than home. Actually, home has been better, I can't find an apratment that will give me a month-by-month lease and so I am staying put. For now. Sigh... It's okay.

So today I photographed a cross country meet. I had never been to a cross-country meet before. Scott, it made me think of you. There was so much positive engery in the air. I wish I had known you better in high school so that I could have come to cheer you on. I wished as I stood in front of the screaming parents, coaches, teammates and friends that I had someone to root for, I mean , really root for. As it was, I documented the joy and strength on the winners' faces. I also shot the joyful tears of runners who beat their best times, even though I knew there wasn't going to be space in the sports section for all those images. Also, I was very, very lucky because I got the privilerge of photographing the Eastern York high school girls' team as they stood in a circle around a tree and said a prayer after the race. I saw them do it before the race, and I shot it from very far away with a long lens. Afterward, I told them how cool I thought it was, and they said they do it after the races, too. They permitted me to sit in the middle of their circle and photograph them holding hands and praying. It will run in the paper tomorrow, and I hope they treasure their special tradition caught on film- er, digital card. It was their last race of the season; for some, the last race of their high school careers. I feel so lucky and awed that people open their lives to me. I love my job.

By the way, the prayer was totally voluntary, and quiet, and not at all school-sponsored or on any school property, so it wasn't breaking any constitional laws or proselytizing anyone in any way. Gotta love that free speech thing, especially when it's not being abused.

And... My friend Dave from school was there! He just started working at the York Dispatch, our competition, like on Monday. I couldn't believe it. He said, "Angie, hi!" and I just stared at him. He thought I didn't know who he was, but I totally did. I just couldn't figure out why he was at a cross-country meet in York. He's a good friend, but not necessarily someone I have kept in touch with or spent much time with outside of Remembrance Scholar activities or the occasional shared bagel in food.com (the cafe in the communications school- how cute! There's no actual food.com website though. There should be. And a webcam, too. Hey Luke...) but I have a friend in York!

Actually, I have three friends in York now. Dave, Best Work Friend Joanne and New Work Friend Sam. Sam, Joanne and I are going to have a Drunken Soapmaking Party, as I have made them soap, which they love. Hooray for girlfriends! (Sam is a girl.)

By the way, Alissa, I bought some suspension glycerin and soap herbs and special "massage" soap molds. That is a very fun combination!!!

Tomorrow I am going to Beaux Visages (Bee-Axe Vizz-uh-jess, just for you, Kelly) for a massage. Bahlobbadoo Timm-uh.

Okay, I have to gush for a minute about why I love Stephen. So I had this terrible fight with my mom, and I am still not speaking with my father after a fight we had last night, and I was driving around with an empty gas tank, contemplating sleeping in my car with my fugitive dog, miserable, unhappy, feeling utterly alone (except for aforementioned fugitive dog and lovely supportive friends on cell phone), looking for numbers to apartments in York-- the first capitol of Pennsyltucky!-- off of signs in flowershop windows. (Stephen gushing part coming soon...) I finally go home, (in part because I really had to pee,) determined to move out tomorrow, and I call Stephen to tell him I went home after all, which is what he and everyone else were encouraging me to do in the gentle, mild voices that people use to talk to people who are standing on ledges, both literal and figurative.

(HERE COMES THE MUSHY PART. DO NOT READ IF ALREADY NAUSEOUS).

And... he makes me laugh. Out loud. Hard. Side-splitting laughter. I can't even tell you what we were laughing about. The way his cat purrs, I think. (Stephen's cat's name is Mr. Pimm). And after I caught my breathe, I said, "Thank you. This has been an awful night. I can't believe you're making me laugh." and he said, "Hey, that's my job." and I said, "You're good at it!" and he said, "that's why it's my job, because I'm good at it," and I said, "Yeah, well, too bad the job doesn't come with a benefits package and other long-term investment opportunities," and he said, "Actually, it does." Wow. That just blew me away. I can not believe I have this amazing person who views my happiness as a long-term benefit/investment. I feel so blessed (not in the omnipresent "God Bless America" way)

But I am still going apartment-hunting in the morning.

Hey y'all. I'm home for the night, as is Bella. Thanks for all the support. Sorry if I worried you.

Let us cover Kelly with prayer, good vibes, excellent karma and positive, supportive "Feel Betty and Get Wilson" love, ok? She needs it. My love to all.

I have to get out of here.

Well, I just had the best weekend ever, thank you very much. Alissa took Gwen, Shauna and I hiking up a very challenging mountain. At the top, I felt incredibly strong. I can't wait to go again. I really want Stephen to come with me next time. We sort of hike (more like walk in the woods) occasionally, but I think he would get a big kick out of the rock scrambling, as it's called.

Today is a very good day at work. I did a lot of shooting, which I like. I also got a good critique from someone whose shooting routinely blows me away, which makes me feel like I'm becoming a stronger shooter, which is good. We had a lot of breaking news, which I have to say, is better than shooting the refrigerator magnet lady, although I worry about the people whose townhouse burned down (although they were really happy because they discovered that their cat, whom they began to presume dead because it was hiding, was not only alive, but completely and totally fine-- though I am willing to bet he used up one of those nine lives).

I do feel bad because I got a message from Jason on my voice mail as I was leaving town. (Hi Jason! Are you out there? Let's hang out soon!)

Don't forget Gwen's birthday is coming up on Wednesday!

Hey all you fabulous feminists and conscientious objecters (and neutral people, too!), there's something new up on my soapbox.

Alright. I am going to try and keep my title as "Miss I know everything. Miss photographic memory. Miss smarty pants. Miss...dumb...head...stupid...dumb...dork" and see if I can remember what grade Nick started shaving in. (It will be great when Scott helps Nick get comments so I can answer these challenging trivia questions on Nick's site instead of my own.) Nick was in 5th grade when he started shaving. I think. Furthermore, he had a castle calendar in 1992; he used to want to name one of his sons "Wolfgang;" and his phone number (until March 1993) was 898-1935. There. That should redeem me in the off chance that Nick started shaving in fourth grade. Mrs. Plotner was his fourth grade teacher. How did I do, Nick? :)

Hiya.... I am trying to think of something comment-worthy to say because no one has really been commenting lately, which is fine, except that the excitement of having comments hasn't really worn off for me yet, so... What do we want to talk about?

To tell you the truth, my life isn't terribly exciting. I had a championship sleep yesterday, actually. I worked the day shift Monday, although I am on the night shift for the rest of the week, and I guess I was really tired because I laid down to watch TV around 7 last night and woke up at 6 a.m. this morning, at which point I went back to sleep for 5 hours, woke up to take Belle to the vet to get her nails trimmed, after which I fell asleep again until 2 p.m. when I had to get up to come in to work. All in all, I think I slept a total of 20 hours. I can't remember the last time I did that. (Luke, you must be so proud! :) If I keep this up, I may be eligible to sleep in the Olympics.

I had these crazy dreams about Harry Potter, actually. I was in Hogwarts, and we were all running around and Ron got thrown in Hogwart's prison (not Azkaban) for not being able to pay his student loans for Hogwarts tuition. Hmm... I wonder if this has anything to do with the fact that my student loan payments start in a few weeks, and I have no real prospect of a fulltime job.

I wish, I wish, I wish I could just stop worrying about that. I am sure that someday I will look back on this time in my life and see it as really relaxing, when I had no scary committments to mortgages or children. But really, my internship is over in about a month, and I don't know what the hell I am going to do. Actually, yes I do. I am going to keep pursuing contacts, go back to freelancing fulltime and maybe try and substitue teach for $100 a day, and try and freelance for the AP and the AFP now that I'm digital and that's great and everything will be fine, blah blah blah.

I miss my boyfriend. I miss my friends. I miss my sister. I miss the women's studies department, who would tell me how to think about this war in Afghanistan thing while letting me believe I was coming to those conclusions on my own, (as scary and patriarchal as that truly is, despite the fact that they try not to be patriarchal and scary.)

I really have to try and learn to live in the moment. I never appreciate things the way they are. Someday when I have a job and all the things I am longing for now, I am sure that I will wish I were closer to my parents. I am going to try and appreciate my life and where I am while I am there.

Right now I appreciate 1.) the fact that I get to spend time with my parents. Someday when they are gone, (goddess forbid), I am sure I will have moments where I will want to trade all the moments between then and now to talk to them again for just five minutes. 2.) the fact that I am eating healthy and not torturing myself about food. There have been times when it has been all that I think about and I am grateful for the fact that I am making clear choices about eating without being neurotic 3.) the fact that I get to spend a lot of time with Nanny. I do like her wonderfully caring, if somewhat eccentric, group of friends, and I am grateful to be near her. Well, that's a good list for now. I have to go back to work.

RAAAAHHH! A thousand points for me! A thousand points for me! Nick, I do, in fact, remember who coined the phrase, "May your days be filled with cranberry sauce!!! (Drumroll, please-- Huh, drumroll is rather appropriate here, actually)....... Sarah Richards! Thank you, thank you very much! Test not my psycho memory or I shall be forced to tell you what I wore on December 28, 1992 (and yes, I do know) There is something gratifying about having a photographic memory in times like this... :)

Alissa and I just ate at the Melting Pot, and it was soooo good. We are leaving for the Dar Williams concert in a couple of minutes. Yay! Dar!

So I was talking to Alissa last night, and I was telling her a story about the Renaissance Faire, which I attended last Sunday with Jason and Gwen (Hi guys!), and I told a story that Alissa just thought was hilarious, and so I am putting it up here for your enjoyment. Okay, so I should start out by saying that Jason kind of hates the Ren Faire (oooh, I feel like I'm all in touch with the people at the faire since I say "Ren Faire"-- Call me Ian. In a good way. :) because when he was in fifth grade or something, he went to the Ren Faire with the special interest class, and he had a dagger or a bow and arrow or something, and one of the queen's guards yelled at him for having a weapon in front of the queen. So Jason is a little leary about Ren Faire characters (I think it's kind of like my fear of people who were in dance theater, except for Amanda and HEF), but Gwen and I talk him into going with us anyway.

So we're at the faire, and there were many, many opportunties to embarrass Jason and call attention to him, but Gwen and I were so good. We valiantly fought the urge to embarrass him, until we were about to leave. One of the jesters was walking by, and I couldn't help myself. I pulled the jester aside and told him that my friend always gets yelled at by characters at the Ren Faire, and would he please yell at my friend? So he started shaking his finger in a "Naughty Naughty" type way and going "BAH BAH BAH BAH BAH BAH" (I really have to do this imitation for you audibly.) Jason was doing that adorable Jason thing where he is enjoying something despite himself, and he doesn't want to admit to anyone that he thinks something is good and/or funny, so he kind of laughs and blushes and shakes his head and says things like "Why? Why would you do that?"

He also let us call him by his old embarrassing knickname, (which I will not post up here,) which was very sweet of him. He also let Best College Friend Jo and I drag him onto many, many rollercoasters at Hershey Park last month (which may be because, frankly, Jo is hot:). He is like a brother to me, and I love spending time with him. Yay Jason!

I just got my digital camera, and I love it! It is so good. It's revolutionary; it really is. I am so excited that I want to roll around on the floor. Unfortunately, installing the special software messed up everything with the browser here at work, and my boss if frustrated beyond belief, which I totally understand. I feel so bad, even though it blatantly was not my fault, it was the software's fault, and the software is brand new and there are obviously some quirks Nikon needs to work out. I feel responsible, even though I wasn't the one installing the programs or anything. I really have to stop that. Sigh....

Hey everyone. In you’ve read Alissa’s page, then you know all about her awful thing on Sunday where someone stole her wallet. I felt terrible for her, but I was glad that my mom and I were there to help out. It really, really sucks. And I should know, because as Alissa said on her page, I do, in fact, lose my wallet every six months or so. She also remarked that she wanted to call me since I would know what to do. Even if you don’t follow Alissa’s blog you might find this useful, just in case.

Happy October!! I love October. I think this is the best month of the year. For one thing, Halloween is by far my favorite holiday.
My dad and Brad and I would always set up these fun displays in our front yard. One year I got to be a severed head on a platter. It was great.

I love when the leaves turn orange against a brillant cyan sky. (For one thing, orange and cyan are opposites on the color wheel, so that's a particularly good combination as far as visual impact goes... Shutting Photojournalist Angie up now). I love scary hayrides and football games (except now that I am covering high school football for the paper. It's kind of fun, actually, except for the little kids who follow me around saying. "Hey TV lady! Hey TV lady! Hey TV lady!" I didn't answer them at first, not because I was ignoring them, but because I am so obviously not shooting with a TV/video camera and I didn't realize they meant me. I am the Newspaper Lady, not the TV Lady) and apple cider and marching band. In Syracuse, October also meant the first snow, which is kind of crazy, except that the first snow is always fun, and it's kind of cool that it gets to be in this great month.

For another thing, so many wonderful people were born in this month. (Happy birthday, Jon! You have been on Earth for 26 years!!!) Jon's birthday is today, obviously. But Brad Plotner (brotherfriend), Gwen (blurry good sisterfren), Heather Liskey (of the Highly Esteemed Young Friends), Stephen (bestpartnerloveoflifetimefriend)- AAHH! I just dropped veggie dip on my pants ARG!-- and Erika (College Roommate Goddessfriend) all have birthdays this month. Hooray for all of you for being alive and in my life!

DO NOT READ THIS NEXT PART IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THE TOPIC OF WOMEN'S FERTILITY!!!! Okay? That was a fair warning, right? This year I will also be celebrating the ten-year anniversary of my first period on October 21. Woo hoo! A full decade of menstruation. I came inside from playing field hockey in 8th period gym class when I discovered it. I had spent the quarter in change on a Strawberry Shortcake/Chief Crunchy frozen confection (Doh!) so I couldn't buy the needed item from the convenient machine in the stall, so I had to go to 9th period English and ask Mrs. Quay (who probably stopped being fertile during the Carter Administration) for a pass to the nurse. She said, "Tut, tut. (She actually used the words "tut, tut") "You have a word wealth test to take, Miss Gaul" (She actually said "Miss Gaul." Hi Scott! :) I was like, "Uh, I'll be right back." And I was. It wasn't terribly eventful, but I feel like celebrating it nonetheless. The anniversary is October 21. Aren't you glad you know that?

IT IS NOW SAFE TO RESUME READING. There. Well, actually, I should go. My film is ready to come out of the dryer.

Hello, everyone! Sorry it's been a few days since I've last written here. Thank you to everyone who comments; it makes me feel all loved and in touch. (HI BECKY! You rock! I l wrote you a letter! :) Tonight I am covering Bike Night. Literally, more than 1,000 Harley Davidson riders are in York, having a big ol' rally and parade. It's actually quite interesting. I am wearing my leather jacket so I fit in. Grrr... Biker Angie is a new incarnation for me. Usually the leather jacket is part of a Chachi Angie or Theater Angie With The Cool, Trench-Coating Wearing Boyfriend ensemble. It's actually a good photo type assignment because the people are very interesting-looking. Not to be lookist. La la. Anyway, I have to leave in a minute for a special "Blessing of the Bikes" ceremony ( I am so not kidding.)

I just have one question: Who is being Larry in the comments? You're funny!! I love you!!!

RAHHHH!!! Victory Dance around the computer!! Woo hoo! I haven't been this happy since I learned to parallel park. Or since I got my CD-ROM to work in my interactive multimedia class. I am so happy!!!!!!

Okay, I got comments to work, which is very, very exciting. I invite all of you to comment on my page! One thing, though. Please, please be respectful to one another. Yay! I can't wait. Someone, anyone, come let me know you were here! I am going to enable my comments to work Up On My Soapbox, too.

Following Shauna's suggestion that we all try to laugh more, I have to share this quote from Scott's weblog, even though a lot of you have probably read this on his site and enjoyed it for yourself firsthand. Oh, the men I have loved.... :)

"[M]y dad... seems to think I'm going to be drafted and sent to Afganistan. Because we all know that when America is in trouble the first troops they send into any hot zone are their crack platoon of scrawny, pale, eyeglass-wearing, Star Wars loving, software engineers. I suppose as long as our enemy agrees to resolve the conflict through some sort of Shoot 'Em Up type video game we'd kick their butts."

Hahahahahahaha. That kills me. I have been thinking about this since NPR commentator Juan Williams first used the phrase "reinstate the draft" last week. I have been so happy that Stephen has flat feet, and is therefore undraftable since he couldn't wear the standard issue shoes. Which by the way, is the same reason my dad wasn't drafted into Vietnam. Paging Dr. Freud!

Of course, there is a scared little part of me that knows that if this war should go on a long time and a lot of people die that the government will end up drafting even the guys with flat feet, but let's not think about that now, shall we not? For now, Steve is standing outside a magic shop in Boston demonstrating monkey puppets. We were talking yesterday about how hot it was for the first day of autumn. I said I was very warm wearing shorts and a tank top, and he said he sweltered yesterday "wearing black pants, a t-shirt and a vest with his hand up a monkey's butt." Apparently, an intoxicated Canadian to whom Stephen sold a hundred dollars worth of magic tricks bought the "monkey" a lemonade because it was so hot. Steve drank it, considering that the monkey is, after all, a puppet.

Well, I'm off to work. My first assignment is to photograph children who are painting a giant American flag on their front yard.

Alright, I am sorry, but I feel obliged to talk just a teeny little bit about all the whackos that are coming out of the woodwork in the last ten days. In some ways, I include myself in the list of people who have gone temporarily insane because 1.) I found myself being oddly moved by the song "Proud to be and American" 2.) I am sort of excited to watch the telethon tonight and 3.) I was not completely repulsed and/or wickedly amused at the stupidity of our president during his address last night. He didn't even falter in his word choice or anything. Huh. Go figure.

That aside, I want to share with you some of the more stupid things that have been said about the subject of Afghanistan. I happen to listen to A LOT of Republican talk radio, because I believe it's good to know one’s enemies. Therefore I listen to Rush Limbaugh almost every day. I had a women's studies professor tell me quite seriously that that would rot my brain. Rush, while he has been using the airwaves for years to propagate a sexist, racist and classist agenda, is actually rather intelligent, as far as oppressors go. It's the OTHER Republican talk show hosts, like Bob Durgan, who kill me. He had a caller who said that he's worried about his sons, ages 14 and 16, if they get drafted because Clinton let the "sodomites" into the army and he doesn't "want his boys to have to watch their backs in the foxholes because of the sodomites." My other favorite whacko is the "anti-Christ" who emailed Gwen at her job at the newspaper in Gaithersburg. Here is my favorite excerpt: THERE WILL BE MANY HUMAN LIVES LOST THROUGH THE MULTIPLE NATURAL DISASTERS, WAR AND DESTRUCTION OF CIVILIZATION WHICH IS TO FOLLOW THIS NOTICE. HAVE YOU EVEN CARED TO ANALYZE THE WEATHER PATTERN SINCE THE FIRST LETTER. THE FORCES OF NATURE WILL NOW BE UNLEASHED!!! THE ORDER OF NATURE WILL NOW BE RESTORED!!! NATURE WILL NOW TAKE CONTROL!!!
REGARDS
THE ANTI-CHRIST

I love that the Antichrist sends his regards. Perhaps the best suggestion that I have heard comes from my friend Lydia's husband Paul via my friend Luke. Apparently, they decided that the best course of action would be to send armies of killer robotic Olsen twins against Afghanistan. Sigh.... Speaking of Luke, he has moved to Connecticut, and he is living with this guy Chris from S.U. who used to be Otto the Orangeman mascot at football games. I love that. Luke is living with Otto. That's just a funny mental image.

Anyway, I will go about my day in which I have run a bunch of errands that I have been meaning to take care of for days. It's actually quite satisfying. I bought a new air freshener for my car, picked up Bella's special dog food from the vet, got a prescription refilled, mailed some letters, hugged Alissa's mom and bought recipe cards.

This seems like a fitting time to talk about Alexia Tsairis. Alexia Tsairis was a Syracuse University student who died when Pan Am 103 exploded in the sky over Lockerbie, Scotland, as a result of a terrorist bomb on December 21, 1988. Alexia was 20 when she died. She was a photojournalism student, one of 35 Syracuse University students who died returning from the S.U. Department of International Programs Abroad in London. (This is the same program in which I studied in England in 1999.)

Each year, S.U. offers a Remembrance Scholarship to 35 students who most closely resemble the spirit of the students who were lost in 1988. I had the great honor and privilege to represent Alexia in 2000. I have come to know her family, who have reached out to me with a warmth I can not begin to capture in words.

Alexia was deeply commited to world peace. She was a member of Amnesty International. She wanted to change the world with her photography. At the end of each semester in London, the photo students write record memories, share messages of encouragement, and leave advice for the next class in the lockers in the darkroom. Alexia wrote, two days before she died, "Take your camera with you wherever you go, because you never know what is going to happen." Someone has since written, "S.U. misses you" under her name. Some of Alexia's images and film were recovered from the crash site. She was very, very good.

Her parents have since started the Alexia Foundation for World Peace. They offer scholarships to photography students who wish to study abroad in the London program and grants to professional photographers who wish to pursue picture stories around the world that will help foster world peace.

As we seek answers in this difficult time, I offer you her words as they were printed in the Ramapo High School yearbook her senior year.

"Do not be afraid of the shadows. It only means that light is shining nearby."
-Alexia Tsairis

As I begin to write here, the first message I have written since September 11th when the attack on America began, it seems strange to me to realize that everything has a new perspective. Even the outrage I felt at the mistreatment of the animals at the York Fair seems misdirected and somewhat trivial, even though the exploitation of those animals was very real. The entire world is different now. I don't know what to think. I am usually not a supporter of war, and yet I feel our country needs to take some sort of action. I do not know yet where I stand. I feel that we need to take a firm stand against terrorism in all its forms; nonetheless, hearing the words "bomb the hell out of them" coming from a senator, when we don't really know who that "them" should be, causes my stomach to knot itself.

I am amazed at the remarkable bravery and generosity that is being spread throughout our country. It's really quite wonderful.

Last night, when we were all asked to light a candle at 7 p.m., I was driving home from work, the first time I left the newspaper office before 10 p.m. any day this week. I pulled over by the side of the road and joined some women who were standing outside their beauty parlor with candles. We sang Amazing Grace, and it was the first time I could stand and sing and not have to photograph others in their display of solidarity. I feel a deep moral commitment to document my community as they come together in mourning and in solidarity, and so, most of the time, photographing is precisely what I feel I should be doing. But last night, standing on West Market Street and singing softly was the only thing I wanted to do, the only place I wanted to be.

I have had the urge to stand with each of you who read this web site and cry and send invocations to the spiritual force (from whom I began to seek solace during my depression) and find hope. Hope for peace, hope for solidarity, hope for justice. For my high school friends and all others who know, more than anything, I have wanted to stand with you and sing "The Lord Bless You and Keep You." May the Lord come to you in your own individual ways-- the Christian Heavenly Father, the Jewish Lord of the Universe, the Mother Goddess, the power of Music, the Beauty you find in others and the Force that connects us all. In the words of the NPR guy who reads the Writers' Almanac each morning, "Stay well. Do good work, and keep in touch."

Jerry Falwell's message that blames "feminists, pagans, abortionists, homosexuals and the ACLU" for the mass destruction, along with a feminist response to the call for war, can be found up on my soapbox.

ok. York Fair. hating it. new attraction=feature story. new attraction is called "Baboon Lagoon." I'm thinking "Monkeys and children!" I'm thinking, "Fun, psuedo zoo-type exhibit!" I'm thinking "educational" in a "zoos are oppressive and sad" type way. No. Instead? Tutus, unicycles, motorcycles, sequins, fishnet tights and spandex. And that's what the BABOONS were wearing.

My Women's Studies Amazing Activist Friend Emily would have gone, pardon the pun, ape-shit. She would have liberated the baboons and cleaved the stupid monkey trainer in half with his own scary "training stick"/cattle prod. I wanted to cry. It was completely humiliating for these animals. I was embarrassed for them. Look on the YDR website tomorrow for the pictures. Ew. I guess the "You can't do eco-tourism, so we're bringing it to YOU!", la dee la scenario I had imagined was too progressive for York, but still.... I wasn't expecting the baboons to be wearing hot pants. Sigh....

I kissed some girl last night.

There, Nick, are you happy? Geez. I don't talk about my sex life on my web journal because 1.) It's not really anyone else's business, except for Stephen, and he doesn't read this very often 2.) People I work with sometimes read this 3.) My dad reads this and 4.) Finally, and most importantly, I find the people who talk a lot about sex are usually the people who aren't having very much of it.

Having said that, I did NOT kiss a girl last night. I went to Long's Park with Dan Brown. It was fun.

Today I have photographed a horse dentist-- excuse me, equine dental technician-- a United Way "Day of Caring" where local workers help out non-profit organziations by painting their fence, etc (Mostly people who were excited about missing a day of work and who were all mad at the one loser girl who DID want to go back to work when they were done volunteering thus ruining everyone else's plans to say they literally "cared" all day), and the owner of a new jazz club that I am psyched to go to when it opens at the end of the month. (For Jill and Luke, I used the "Shake and Bake" method-- long exposure with rear-sync flash-- with some funky lights; I can't wait for my film to be done as it is in the processor right now. Hope it worked).

Yup, that's about it. New rantings on Up On My Soapbox to follow shortly.

I am so embarrassed! I was just walking across the newsroom, coming back from the bathroom, minding my own business, about to go do a story on the Agricultural Museum’s new mural (Woo hoo!) when out of the corner of my eye, I see a gigantic (honestly 11-ft tall) monster at the receptionist’s desk. Naturally, I scream (in front of the entire newsroom, including the president of the company) and everyone thinks this is the funniest thing EVER. Great.

It turns out they were from Field of Screams, dropping off a press kit.

So then My Boss Ted says, “We need local art. Why don’t you follow them and get pictures of people reacting to them?” Great. The next thing I know I am running down North George Street trying to catch them before they reach the Dispatch, our competition. People think they are very funny, etc, and I got the requisite picture of the scared little girl and the laughing adult woman. Fine, fine, fine.

Then a funeral passes by. Luckily, the actors were very respectful and didn’t say anything. They felt really bad about it, actually. Then a guy in a car with a Jesus fish ornament and a couple of other religious bumper stickers slowed down and yelled, “Down with Satan!”

Well, I’m off to the Agricultural Museum. I love York County.

So here I am back at the York Daily Record for my first day of another internship. It's fine. I was here all summer, so it's really not much of a change. Nonetheless, I had to meet with the woman who runs the newsroom to get a company cell phone, garage opener, parking pass, etc. In the middle of going through W-2 forms, etc., the feeling suddenly hits me, "I am going to throw up!" So in my head, I am like, "Nah, I'm not going to throw up. Why would I throw up? Am I really going to?" and all of a sudden my body was like "You are, too, going to throw up!!" So I have to internrupt this very important lady to run to the bathroom. I barely made it in time. Huh. I wonder why that happened. I wish for each of you no random acts of illness.

My friend Adam from college throws up all the time. Sometimes, if he breathes a gust of air in a funny way, he vomits. There is a very funny story about him vomiting in a building on the S.U. campus, and he didn't know where the bathroom was. He had vomit all over his hands, and he ran into another building, but the bathroom was locked. When he finally found one, in a third building, he went in and a professor saw him. The professor was like, "Adam! How are you? It's good to see you!" before he saw the vomit. Then, the professor broke off midsentence, gagged and fled the bathroom. Adam also barfed in someone's coat during a congo line at a Homecoming dance in high school, and he once threw up a gallon of gatorade and big mac in a McDonald's parking lot in Battle Mountain, Nebraska.

Blah, blah. So I have some time to kill before I shoot field hockey at 4:30. I think I will not spend it talking about vomit. Sorry for that tangent. That last paragraph is a little gross.

Today is Kelly's first day at her new job. Let's all send her good health educator vibes.

As for Shauna's idea for a laugh blog, I totally agree. I am, after all, the Queen of Wetting Oneself with laughter. I have been reading "Dave Barry Talks Back" by Dave Barry. It has been causing me to laugh hysterically, the kind of laughter you usually only get with old friends while doing things like playing Bloody Stump. I actually cried with laughter at one of his columns about dressing radioactive crabs in chipmunk suits. I can not nearly do it justice.

Every once and a while you have the opportunity to be someone's guardian angel. It usually happens when you least expect it. The last time I got this opportunity (until today) was in June 1998 when I helped this woman who was absolutely terrified of heights climb over a ten-foot wrought iron fence after she got locked in this beautiful-but-full-of-gothic-gargoyles cemetery in Prague. She was so afraid of heights that she was actually debating whether or not she should sleep in this getting-creepier-as-the-sun-sets graveyard. Anyway, after an hour of smiling, boosting and coaxing in my extremely limited Czech (mostly saying "good/dobry" and "yes/anno"), I helped this very nice Czech woman over the wall. You would think that the caretakers responsible for locking up creepy graveyards would check to make sure everyone was out first, but whatever.

Anyway, I got this opportunity during a layover in Detroit on my way back from visiting Kelly. There were two women in front of me on the people-mover (Meet George Jetson!), and one of them was pushing a stroller. As we step off the people-mover, the wheel of the stroller gets stuck which causes a little pile-up. (I start having flashbacks to this time when I was like 3, and I fell flat on my face getting off an escalator in J.C. Penney which resulting in my developing a mortal fear of escalators) and so I was worried about the baby what with the potential for injury and phobias and whatnot. The baby was fine, just a little jostled, and I asked if they’re okay. They say yes, but they think they missed their flight and they don’t know what to do.

One woman is from Kenya, trying to get to Wyoming to go to med school, and the woman with the baby is from Oman on the Saudi Arabian peninsula, and she is trying to get to Denver to meet up with her husband who is there for grad school. They apparently flew from Kenya and somewhere like Saudi Arabia, respectively, to Amsterdam, where their flight to the U.S. was delayed.

The woman with the now-crying baby is like, “No one will help us!” So we walk over to the Northwest ticket counter and wait in line forever when this man with a Canadian passport, (although it has Arabic letters on it) starts yelling at us, in English, for cutting in line. (We didn’t.) The woman from Oman is dressed in Western clothing, but when she apologizes to the man in Arabic, he gets a whole lot nicer and grumpily apologizes.

So we finally get to the front of the line. I’m worried that they’re going to miss their flight (which it turns out, they already had) so I approach the first “available” ticket clerk. Apparently, you have to wait until they call out, “Next!” which I didn’t realize. I thought you could just approach the desk when it was your turn, but apparently you need an engraved invitation. So sue me. So the first lady is doing something, so we stand in front of her for ten minutes. Then the clerk beside her finishes up with her customer, but she’s leaving for her dinner break, so we have to wait again.

At this point, my bag of weight watchers snacks bursts open and there are baby carrots all over the floor. (I bet this would not have happened if I had been planning to eat a Kit Kat Chunky.) Fine. We clean up the carrots, passing the baby (who was a meltingly cute 7-month-old little girl whose name was, as best I could tell, “Wee Wee.” I kid you not. I think it was a nickname for Wellayan) back and forth. At one point, I engaged her in a game of “This little Piggy Went to Market.” I was all the way up to the Piggy Who Eats Roast Beef when I realized that a game about piggies going to market and/or eating beef may not be entirely appropriate for a child who is mostly likely Muslim. Oops.

Okay, so the ticket agent who was helping us was really nice, but the baby was crying off and on, and the check-in desk was very noisy, and apparently the confirmation number was written in Arabic characters and it was really hard for the agent to find the lady from Oman’s reservation in the computer to put her on the next flight to Denver.

I would like to add that both women had an excellent command of the English language, but the agent was using words like “itinerary” and “voucher” and it was midnight Kenya time and she was asking them things like, “Has your luggage been in your possession since you packed it?” and they were like, “Um… We checked our luggage in Kenya/Saudi Arabia. Sorry? What?” They agent was trying to explain about the difference between Eastern time and Mountain time which lead them to believe that they had to change planes twice, when in fact it was one plane over two time zones.

So I am trying not be Pushy American Woman, but they said they appreciated my help, and at this point, we had been at the desk for forty minutes because the agent is like, doo de doo de do. Sheesh. So I get the lady to give them seats together in a row with no one else so that the baby could have the middle seat. She gives them vouchers for free food (I have to say, the agent was trying, she really was), and I dropped them off at their gate with just enough time to jump on my own plane back to BWI.

All in all, it was really nice. We were all about the same age, and it was one of those unexpected moments that life throws your way. I know if I were ever stuck in an airport in Oman or Kenya, I would want someone to help me. I love traveling and the unexpected friends who manage to find you.

Rice cake, anyone?

You know what I was wondering... How do they get the air in things like puffed rice and wheat? I mean, think about it. There aren't, like, miniature bike pumps or anything. How do they do that? It's like a little diet food miracle.

One of my favorite stories that Stephen tells involves puffed wheat, actually. Apparently, he spent a great deal of time during the 1992 Olympics hanging out with his cousin Ted and eating puffed wheat. They tried to figure out how to say, "I am a fool for puffed wheat" in different languages.

"Je suis un bouffau pour frommage esouffle" is the French way. That may not be exactly right. I sort of forget the word for "wheat." I have this feeling that "frommage" means cheese.

In that case, I am a fool for puffed cheese.

Wt: 121 lbs Cigarettes: 6 Alcohol Units: 12 (v. bad) Lottery Tickets: 2

Am going to Oxford Circus in search of shoes in manner of shopping goddess. Wish to pop by Cafe with Shazzer and Jude in honor of fabulous new plan to fnd inner poise.

OH WAIT... I'm not Bridget Jones. I am in a very Bridget-y place, having just watched the movie with Amanda and Kelly in the fun hotel in Chicago. Chick-a-go, as Kel would say. We had a very good time! Kelly, (whom I am now calling Wart, you should call her that too. She really, really likes it) took me downtown to the field museum where we saw a stupendous exhibit about Julie Taymor, the puppeteer who designed all the puppets in the Lion King, etc. It was astounding. Julie's (we're on first name terms now, you see) work is totally influenced by Japanese principles of bunraku techniques, and she is clearly well versed in knowledge of kente cloth and African culture and they had an exhibit of work from a Spanish play for which she did the set design, costumes and puppet work and it really smacked of El Greco, Dali and Picasso. One of the puppets was even shaped like this very distinctive screaming head in Picasso's cubist work, Guernica. Gush, gush, gush. I can't believe she holds all of that knowledge of mechanics and culture and design and artistry in her head. Wow.

I kept thinking about Gwen's puppetry teacher in her last semester of college who was really jealous of Julie Taymor. Gwen once demonstrated how to make a puppet look like it was walking instead of flying. She said that her puppetry teacher has a beef with Sesame Street because it made our generation think that puppets just whiz around or something like that.

So I am home.

Dan Brown called me back, which is nice. I ran into his mom at a retirement party that we had for my dad. She said he is living at home and is also bored. I have decided that he is my new friend.

I have added a new section to my site! I'm calling it "On the Record" (which is very funny, what with me being a journalist and all-- Hello, I'm Obvious Woman!) and it's just a nice collection of quotes. I am sure I will have misquoted some things, so this can be a source of fun for all of you who know that I do that all the time with song lyrics. Enjoy!

Okay, so I am feeling a bit better about this weight watchers thing. I got through today without too much temptation, and I managed to bank a couple of points for this wedding I am going to this weekend. This will be my third wedding this summer. What's up with everyone getting married? STOP IT, I say.

But! I will get to see Kelly which I am completely thrilled about. Love the lovely Kelly. We are both poor so we're probably going to just hang out and visit, but I can not wait to see her. It's funny, HEF and Gwen get to be with Scott; I get to see Kelly. Too bad we're not doing these things thousands of miles away from each other and thousands of miles away from other people we love. Hey, there's always Thanksgiving at my house, people. Come for pie! Unless I'm in Scotland or with Stephen, which are real possibilities this year. Well, my parents would probably love to see you, (whoever you are reading this, Mr. Pyscho Internet Stalker).

So, in order to help me stay on my new Postive Eating Plan, I have created a little televangelist type guy in my head. For example, tonight I went to Turkey Hill to buy some fat-free frozen yogurt to mix with a banana and a nectarine for my last four points of the day, and as I gazed at all the colorful rows of delicious Turkey Hill iced tea, my dieting evangelist shouted (in my head, I am the only one who can hear him), "Resist Temptation! Exorcise the demons!!" Apparently, the dieting evangelist is southern.

Speaking of Stephen, (we weren't anymore, but that's okay), he got a job in a magic shop in Boston. He is a demonstrator, which means he walks around with a monkey puppet and tries to make little kids beg their parents to buy them one. He is also learning a bunch of magic tricks and how to juggle, which are actually very good skills for an actor to have. I think one of the best things about his job relates to the fact that the store has this giant top hat that he gets to stand in and perform magic tricks. I couldn't figure out how this worked, and so I was asking him questions. Apparently, there is a cash register in the hat. I think it's so great that he has a job where his boss says, "Okay, Steve, you're in the hat next." Also, all the monkey puppets have to be brushed at the end of the day with a special monkey brush. I wish my job at the York Daily Record required me to use a monkey brush.

I love it when Stephen has interesting jobs. He used to be an ice cream man. Magic Store stories are almost as fun as Ice Cream Truck stories.

I just want you all to know that I hate food. I hate the concept of food. I hate that I have to think about food; I have to deal with food, every day, several times a day.

I am on Weight Watchers. I am counting points. I am mad at myself because I ate more points than I should have today, but I only got the plan at 6:30 p.m. so blaming myself for a program that I wasn't even officially on is ridiculous, which is sort of my theme song when it comes to me and diets. I have gained thirty pounds since graduation, so I have no choice. Thirty pounds. Thirty. I feel like somebody really, really thin has been beaming their calories to or elseI must have been unconscious while I was eating.

My 11th grade math teacher was sitting in front of me at the scary meeting. (Who else remembers Mr. Madara?) After the meeting, he said hi to me so I said Hello and asked, "How are you?" He said, "Fat." Ummm..... First of all, the fact that I am dieting again is probably stupid, but I refuse to keep gaining weight and I really think I need to be on some kind of program. Second of all, I hate that I am back in my hometown again-- fat, lonely and hanging out with my Trigonometry teacher.

Goin' for a walk now.

My latest pet peeve: people who don't return phone calls. (And I mean, professional type people re: jobs, etc)

I can not sleep. Arg. I want to sleep. I am very tired.

I was just reading SARK's new book where she talks about taking vicarious travels. I really have the urge to travel again. I have been very nostalgic lately about places I have traveled, especially Spain. And Venice. I was watching a special about Venice on PBS today. I think I want to go to Greece next. That would be fun. I would like to travel with my friend Kelly, who has traveled vicariously with me to all of the places I have gone.

I'm wondering how my friends Gwen and Heather are faring on their grand adventure. I am imagining that tonight they just arrived in Portland after a long drive up a beautiful coastline and they were greeted enthusiastically by old friends. They are probably tired, with that special road trip punchiness that makes everything funny and makes you want to come into the place that you were travelling to and sit down with a thump even thought you have technically been sitting for hours. They are probably settling down for the night, laying on inflatable air matresses and fighting the uncontrollable giggles that always seem to hit either in church or in the quiet spaces of an unfamiliar house where you are a guest and are technically supposed to be sleeping quietly because someone's roommate type person has to work in the morning. Or in yoga class.

Alright, I am going to try and go to sleep again. There is no one here to giggle with.

Okay. I got rejected from the job in Alabama today. I am really glad that the guy called me so that I wouldn't have to wait all weekend and worry about it. Am I disappointed? A little bit, I guess, yeah. It's hard because I sort of believed that this one would come through. I thought I might have a ticket out of here. Lancaster really sucks the potential out of people. I definitely don't feel like the potential is being sucked out of me-- I can and I will leave. But it is depressing. Every where I go I see people who aren't ever going to leave. It's random, really. I see people from the gifted program from elementary school working at Turkey Hill, and I'm like, why are you working in a convenience store?

It makes me hear what's-his-name, the Dawson Creek guy, James Vanderbeek going, "I don't want your life!" from the preview of that terrible movie "Dawson Gets the Blues" or whatever.

On the other hand, would I really want a ticket out of here to Alabama? It was just going to be so good. My college roommate Jo was thinking about coming with me and I would have had a friend and I could have taken my dog and- and- and- Sigh.... Back to the proverbial drawing board, I guess.