This Land Is My Land

Wow, Massachusetts. You continue to amaze me.

10 Years

Last night I returned from Chicago. From my 10-year high school reunion (by the way, will someone please remind me how to use hypens properly? And quotation marks. Thanks. Seriously, what is the deal with that crap? Why can't I remember that?).

Hi, Nicole. If you are trying to improve your English by this crappy blog, you are in for a major disappointment. You should talk to my friend Allison. Or my sister, GJM (write a blog so I can link to you!). They are both English nerds, and I love them.

Anyway, I went to my reunion and it rocked. Mainly because I decided that I was going to have a good time, regardless of how weird the whole thing was. And so, a good time I had.

Chicago in the summer is beautiful. It's been about 4 or 5 years since I was there when it wasn't the dead of winter. I'd forgotten how many outdoor cafes there are and how nice people in the Midwest are when the sun shines daily. Strangers in the Midwest are always like, 4-5 degrees nicer than strangers on the East Coast. Here, people are afraid that if you look them in the eye, they'll never be rid of you. In the Midwest, people pretend to be your best friend. And quite frankly, contrary to Ani DiFranco, when she says, "can't wait to get back to New York City, where at least when I walk down the street, nobody ever hesitates to tell me exactly what they think of me," I prefer that. I'd rather we at least pretend to be civil.

More when I've had a bit more sleep.

Peace.

I Love My Friends! And Canada!

I would like to take this opportunity to publicly thank Shawn for being an awesome human being and friend. He has this job where he does some stuff that I don’t completely understand, but regardless, one of the (freaking sweet!) perks of said job is that he gets free admission to concerts. And! He gets to take one guest! I am thrilled to report that as his one guest, I will be seeing Radiohead for the first time, for FREE dollars next month! Dag! Way to be nice and stuff, Shawn. Danke sehr!

I’ve never seen Radiohead but have always wanted to. I’ve been a fan for several years now and have heard their live shows are amazing, so I’m wicked psyched.

Also, in less than a week, I’ll be flying home for my 10-year high school reunion. It’s funny. I still call that place “home” when my entire family is here in Massachusetts now. Well, I still have some relatives in the Midwest, but my mom and sisters are here. The Chicago area will always be home though, and Boston will have to settle for being my second home.

My friend Melissa is a spiritual person who loves learning about all things. Period. All things. Anyway, I love her to pieces. She recently read my chart and told me she sees me as having three homes. Chicago, Boston and then one I haven’t found yet. Maybe it will be a city in Deutschland? Only time will tell.

Oh, back to the high school reunion. Man, I am so excited! I can’t wait to see my ladies! We are going to dance the night away. It’ll be good times, I’m sure.

Anywhoooo….I hope you have a great day, wherever you are. And hello to my readers in Canada and Deutschland! Dude, seriously, Canada loves me. I don’t know what it is. I get more hits from Canada than the States. So, here’s to you, Canada! Cheers!

Hilarious

Read this! Too funny.

Items by Others

My sister GJM wrote a guest post on her friend’s blog. You can read her words here. She’s smart. And well-spoken. And a fantabulous sister. Feel better, Schwester.

The post, Wedding Photos, by Sarah Hepola makes me happy. I really enjoy her writing. Check her out.

Tootin' My Horn

When I quit smoking, approximately one year and seven months ago, I was really concerned that I’d gain weight. In all honesty, the potential weight gain had been one of the many excuses I’d employed over the years for continuing to smoke. When I was finally ready to quit the sickorettes, I figured that if I put on few extra pounds, that would not matter, so long as my lungs were repairing themselves. I used to cough a lot. A lot. It was really gross. Man, I do not miss that.

Anyway, I digress. I did gain weight – about ten pounds, to be exact. I chewed a lot of gum and toothpicks to keep myself from snacking mindlessly, but the number on the scale kept climbing. I recently read somewhere that smokers burn an additional 200 calories per day due to an artificial metabolism boost. So when I was still puffing away, my metabolism was deceptively fast. Plus, I smoked a lot more than I ate. I can’t even count the number of evenings I sat on my porch, reading and chain-smoking and then I’d realize I’d missed dinner, so I’d just have another cigarette.

Well, times have changed and I am so happy to report that I am finally, after a year of lots of ultimate frisbee and a lot less beer, back to my pre-quit weight! Woohoo!!! Dang. That feels good.

Oh, and I’ve been meaning to post a link to the quit meter that I so often mention in this blog. You download the program, enter your quit details (date and time of quit, number of cigarettes per day you average, cost of a pack) and each time you start the computer, a little window pops up, telling you how long it has been since you quit, how much money you have saved, how many sickorettes you’ve not smoked and how much life you’ve saved. It’s neat. Check it out.

Happy Thursday, friends! Have a lovely day and a safe 4th of July.

Shut Your Piehole!

Lately, I don’t know what it is or why, but I keep having these weird random memories pop into my head. It’s happening a lot right now. Much more so than usual. I’ll be walking down the street and suddenly, an image of something totally nonsensical will come to me. Like, the image of a hallway in a school I was in once for a choir contest. My high school choir travelled around Indiana a bit, going to competitions or festivals, and suddenly, out of nowhere, I am picturing the hallway from one of those schools like it happened yesterday. I don’t know why this is happening so frequently to me right now, but I think it might have something to do with studying German again. The memory flashes I’m having all seem to be from times in my life when I was still taking German classes. Maybe using the language has woken up part of my memories that have been just lying dormant, waiting to surprise me. I don’t know. It’s quite odd.

I do know that I was just reminded of a story my sister DJ once told me. Years ago, one of her friends— we’ll call him Bob, since I can’t remember which friend it was— had a foreign exchange student—we’ll call him Rufus, because Rufus is a funny name—staying with his family. Rufus was apparently a total jerk and he annoyed Bob and all of Bob’s friends. Rufus asked Bob to teach him some “cool American slang” and Bob taught him that the phrase “shut your piehole, cover your face” was the hip new thing to say. All the kids were doing it. So poor Rufus would go around, telling people to shut their pieholes and cover their faces, thinking the whole time he was acting like a cool American.

Bob shouldn’t have done that to Rufus, but it still cracks me up. Well, mostly the absurdity of the phrase. Shut your piehole, cover your face! Ha.

Whatcha Want to Know?

As I mentioned before, I’ve got so much going on in my head right now that I can’t think of things to write about. I am stuck. So, I’ve decided to open this up for questions.

What do you want to know? I’ll answer to the best of my ability. Ask me anything.

Bony Platforms are Sexy

Tee-hee. I went to see a new dentist today about getting a dental implant. (I’ve been missing a tooth since the seventh grade. My mom and sister are both missing the same tooth. There was a baby tooth, but not a permanent below it.) My dentist was, to my surprise, kind of a hottie. He took a bunch of measurements and x-rays and determined that my bony platform is sturdy enough to support an implant.

Ha! Bony platform! A platform of bone! In my face!

I think I was just feeling kind of silly because he was so pretty and he had this lovely accent, but when he started talking about my bony platform, I just lost it. Complete giggle fit in the dentist’s chair. I had to explain myself it was so ridiculous.

Tee-hee. Can’t wait until the next appointment!

For the Love.

Dude. It is so hot in Boston. Ugh.

That's all I will say about that.

A Close Encounter

I had this really fantastic interaction with a gorgeous, sweaty stranger yesterday, all thanks to ultimate frisbee. He was seriously so beautiful. A fine specimen of a man. It was such a weird, intimate moment and I’d like to remember it for all time, so it’s going in the blog.

This weekend I played in frisbee tournaments on both Saturday and Sunday. I played quite a bit on Saturday, but I’m having problems with my hips, so I was only able to play part of one game on Sunday. I spent the rest of the afternoon on the sideline under a canopy, nursing my injured body and cheering on my teammates.

During the third game of the day, a man from another team came over and said there was a guy who was really hot and needed shade. Would it be okay if he laid down under our canopy? Of course! I looked over to where the kid was sitting and he had a towel draped over his head, but as far as I could tell, he seemed to be doing fine. He looked like a young, robust man, so I figured he just needed a break.

A couple men walked him over and he laid down on the grass beside me. One of them had to go notify the tournament director of his status for liability reasons, and the other needed to go find more water. Since I wasn’t playing, I was the only person in the area who wasn’t busy doing something, so I went to his side.

I thought maybe he was overreacting at first because I didn’t realize how messed up he was! He started saying he wasn’t feeling good. He was nauseous and thought he was going to vomit. I passed him my Gatorade and he took a sip, but he wasn’t feeling like he’d be able to keep it down.

One of his teammates returned to help and we elevated his legs and began unlacing his cleats to try to cool him off. He had a really horrible leg spasm and my instinct, thanks to my mom, the massage therapist, was to start rubbing his leg – his beautiful, muscular thigh.

You see where this is going.

His legs and arms were shaking uncontrollably, so I started massaging indiscriminately. I got him a banana and gave him a chunk to eat. He couldn’t raise his head anymore, so I was pouring Gatorade into his mouth, rubbing his arms and legs. He said his neck was hurting, his head was hurting, so then I started massaging his neck. I kept telling him to focus on his breathing and that he was going to be fine.He kept looking up at me with these big, puppy dog eyes, seeking a connection and comfort. He grabbed my hand and was holding onto me like his life depended on it.

He was still burning up, so someone came over with a jug of cold water and started pouring it over his head, his torso and legs. Someone had pulled his jersey up and his chest was now exposed, drenched and trembling. I was massaging his wet, naked gorgeous, 20 year old body. Yes, unfortunately, only 20. The kid can’t even drink legally, but damn, he sure was pretty.

He was taken off the field by paramedics after about 15 minutes. His brother stopped by our tent later to thank us and said they gave him an IV and he is doing fine.

How often does that happen? How often to do you get to massage an amazingly beautiful, wet stranger?

Not often enough, that’s for damn sure. Thank you ultimate frisbee!!!!

Um....Oops.

Dear Coworker,

Hi there. If you saw the name of this blog open on my computer, and here you are, will you please come talk to me in confidence before discussing this site with any one else from the firm?

I would really, really appreciate it.

Thanks!
MJ