Category: lists


weekend getaway

April 10th, 2009 — 6:30am

I’ve got so much to do this weekend, I thought it might be helpful to make a list so I can keep track of it all.

san francisco list

I guess it’s pretty clear that I’m more than a little excited about our trip.

(Psssst… you can make your own cool card catalog images here!)

3 comments » | for my amusement, good things, lists, travels

sorry… couldn’t resist

February 26th, 2009 — 3:36pm

This has been going around on Facebook.  I’ve been tagged multiple times now and figured the time has come to cave.  I’m posting it here as well because, well, why not?

So here you have it… 25 random things about me.

  1. Before college, I had only ever lived in one state: Connecticut.
  2. In fact, grew up in the same house.  Never moved once.
  3. I still have frequent dreams about my old house and my old neighborhood.
  4. When people find out I’m from Connecticut, I feel the need to clarify that I’m not from “the rich part.” I don’t really know why I do that, but I nearly always do.
  5. I am irrationally obsessed with trees, probably because I grew up in New England. It’s a totally nondiscriminatory passion; if something has a tree on it, I’ll fall in love with it for no other reason.
  6. Fall is my favorite season. We know I love trees, so you can imagine how I feel about glowing red, orange, and yellow trees with leaves that fall down on you like rain.  Heaven.
  7. Actually, I pretty much just like it when any season changes into another. I like the hint of something new around the corner. Plus, at those times of year, it’s as if you can tangibly experience time passing. Very cool.
  8. I hope I always live in a place with four distinct seasons.
  9. But at the same time, I’ve come to know that I can be happy living pretty much anywhere. That wasn’t an easy lesson to learn. It took me a couple years in Utah and a semester in Europe to figure it out.
  10. I never, ever thought that I would live in Utah for as long as I have.
  11. But another good lesson I’ve learned is that life usually doesn’t bring you what you expect… which has been a very good thing for me.
  12. I’m not a fan of the “supposed to be” mentality. You know… when people freak out because life’s not going how they imagined it would go? I’m not going to lie, unexpected twists in the road can definitely freak me out.  But ultimately I think that if we thought life was “supposed to be” some way, and it actually always WAS that way, life would be mundane and unexceptional. Plus, we’d never grow much.
  13. I tend to get overly analytical and philosophical about life, the universe, and everything.
  14. Sorry about that.  Let’s switch gears.
  15. I’m picky about some really arbitrary things. For example…
  16. I always put two spaces after a period. Always. What’s with the trend towards one space? It’s no good, I tell ya.  It irritates me that my blogging software automatically converts my two spaces to one.  Grr.
  17. I always squeegee the glass doors in the shower. You would be anal about this, too, if you had to scrub off the hard water marks yourself. (Or maybe you just wouldn’t worry about the hard water marks in the first place…)
  18. I live by the mantra: burp ziplocks as much as humanly possible before zipping shut. Just thinking about an unburped ziplock makes me shudder.  (Um, that’s not actually my life’s mantra.  Honest.)
  19. When I notice something has a spelling typo (for example, something like “fantasric”), I always look to see if the misused letter (the “r” in “fantasRic”) is close to the letter on the keyboard that should’ve been used (in this case, “t”). And if the letters aren’t close I think, “Wow, how’d they do that?”
  20. I know. I’m ridiculous. And quite possibly unbalanced. ;)
  21. I can’t believe this list isn’t up to 25 yet.
  22. I think everything would be a lot better if we all listened to Bob Marley every day. Who doesn’t feel better after hearing a little Bob Marley?
  23. Actually, I don’t really think that.  But I do know that as I was driving today, the sun was shining, and my window was down, and I had Bob Marley singing to me about “takin’ it easy, takin’ it slow” …and I’m not sure it gets much better than that feeling I had right then.
  24. Another one of my favorite feelings is having dried clay on my jeans.  I took a ceramics class my last year of college.  I wasn’t very great at it, and I haven’t made anything since then, but it felt so good to bury my hands in that cold, wet clay and spin something up on the wheel.  Even if it was a tad lopsided.  The clay on my jeans would remind me of that feeling for the rest of the day.
  25. I wish I were more concise and am frequently embarrassed about how looong my posts are.  But then I go ahead and post them anyway. :)  So here you go.

If you feel the urge to do it too, then I tag you.

2 comments » | good things, lists, quirks

confessions of a list maker

February 16th, 2009 — 12:44pm

Sometimes during the day, I add things to my to-do list that I’ve already completed.  That way, even though I may not have done the other stuff I had originally planned for myself, I still get the satisfaction of having a list with a bunch of tasks marked off.  Definitely not the most effective way to plan the day, but it sure is gratifying.

3 comments » | for my amusement, lists, quirks

ever-stretching time

February 12th, 2009 — 2:29pm

Preface: I know I’m starting off this post talking about pregnancy and babies, but NO that does not mean I’m pregnant. …Because I’m not, nor am I trying to be.  So now that we’ve established that…

Ever notice how we measure pregnancies in weeks? “She’s 60 weeks along” (see, clearly, I know nothing about pregnancy). Then when the baby arrives, we measure its age in months. “Aw, what a cute kid. He must be, what, 6 months?” Then once the kid is old enough, we start using years. Younger kids are particularly attuned to years in fractions. “I’m not just 4! I’m 4 and a half!” Eventually, whole years do the trick, and a simple “I’m 24″ suffices.

This post started with me being annoyed at how we tell a young child’s age in months. Months mean nothing to me. I have to convert it to years before I understand what you’re saying to me. (15 months? Oh, you mean, just over a year. I get it.) But then I realized that we do this kind of grouping in a lot of areas of our lives. It’s not just doctors and mothers trying to annoy the childless people of the world. And what’s more, it may actually be useful.

In a new relationship, each month is a milestone. “We’ve been dating for 4 months,” stated in a giddy voice. And each passing month seems worthy of celebration, until many more months pass. The month milestones eventually fade away and are replaced with year markers instead.

Even in marriage, we started with the small markers. “A week ago today, we got married.” And I always used to notice when the 27th of each month passed. With each new month, we’d go out to eat or even give each other gifts. At our 9-month marker, we celebrated big time. (Woo hoo! No honeymoon babies!) But now that it’s been over a year, I lose track of how many months it’s been.

My parents will have been married for 38 years in March. That’s awesome, right? But when I looked at the calendar this morning I thought to myself, “We should do something big for them in 2 years; 40 years is an amazing milestone.” Not that 38 years isn’t equally wonderful. It’s just that we have this tendency to mark things off in larger increments as more time passes.

I do this with all sorts of things…

  • How long I’ve lived in a place.
  • How old a person is. (It’s hard for me to keep track of a person’s exact age once she’s old enough, but I definitely keep track of what decade she’s in. Being in your 80s seems much different from being in your 90s, even if being 86 doesn’t seem much different from being 89.)
  • My progress in a long book. (It’s fantastic when I’m 20 or 50 pages in, or when I hit one third of the way. But once I’m there it’s like nothing counts until I finish the book… which, admittedly, tends to take a while.)
  • My workout at the gym. (I think to myself, “Wow, it’s been 5 minutes already.” Or, “Sweet, it’s been 15 minutes—that’s a quarter of the way.” But once I’ve been at it for more than 30 minutes, I don’t notice each additional minute stacking up. Just tell me when I hit an hour, ok?)

Why do we do this?

I guess new things are measured in tiny increments because that’s all we’ve got of them so far. And maybe it’s also because they can change so much in such a short period of time. But older things have a lot of time packed in; we don’t need to measure them in small units. They’ve become steady and less likely to change in an instant.

So I like it. I’m no longer annoyed at “15-month-old babies” or “24-week pregnancies,” because it’s cool that they’re growing so fast. And I won’t feel bad when no one remembers my 49th wedding anniversary, because it just means that we’ve sure lasted a long time. And anyway, I’m sure we’ll have a doozy of a party for our 50th.

Comment » | lists, pictures, quirks, un-categorizable randomness

random tuesday

February 3rd, 2009 — 4:04pm

Because… why not?


*SIGHTS*

My favorite photo from last week


*SOUNDS*

(I got this idea here.) “Set your mp3 players to shuffle and post the first ten songs that come up. Go!”

…And not that you all are aching to know what randomness is on my iPod, but it sounded like something fun so I thought I’d entertain myself for a minute or two.

  1. “Roll Out (My Business)” by Ludacris (Did you know I used to really like rap? [Although "really" might be a stretch.] I attribute that partially to the fact(s) that I grew up in Danbury, wanted to fit in, and I hadn’t yet taken my Women’s Lit class from Gloria Cronin.)
  2. “The Hero Dies in This One” by The Ataris
  3. “Carry This Picture” by Dashboard Confessional
  4. “Freak A Leak” by Petey Pablo (I know… I know… and I’m sorry)
  5. “Precious Things” by Tori Amos (Do you think my iPod is intentionally trying to be ironic?)
  6. “Casino” from the Run Lola Run soundtrack (…A highly influential movie in my life, first introduced to me by Fara. We can talk about that another day.)
  7. “Warning Sign” by Coldplay (This song will forever be tied in my mind to the click clack of a fast-moving train; the feel on my skin of a tired old sleeping bunk upholstered with rough, fake velvet; and anxious excitement keeping me awake in a dark a sleeping car headed west towards Italy. My first time.)
  8. “No One Is Alone” from the Into the Woods soundrack (It’s always kind of weird when a musical comes on while I’m listening to music on shuffle. But even so, I adore this song.)
  9. “Make this Go On Forever” by Snow Patrol
  10. “It Passed” by Kalai

*SMELLS*

Faint sweat.   …Instead of showering when I got home from the gym a little bit ago, I got online.

Sorry.

Just being honest.


*THOUGHTS*

> What’s with the phrase “nip it in the bud”? What the does that really mean?

> It’d be cool if cars came equipped with some kind of monitoring system, and anytime a driver started doing something stupid (like, say, merge into your lane in the middle of a busy intersection, keep their right blinker on as they make a left turn, or creep lazily across the line towards your own car on the highway) a voice would blare out of the driver’s speakers informing him or her of whatever dumb thing they’re doing. The world would be a better place.

> This and this make me smile.  (I love the socks that keep slipping down past his toes.)

> Since yesterday, I’ve been trying to drive the speed limit everywhere I go. It’s quite hard. I’m not very good at it yet.  (It seems that car speaker thingy would be pretty helpful for me.)

5 comments » | for my amusement, if i ruled the world, just wondering, lists, pictures, quirks, un-categorizable randomness

cinnamon toast crunch, and other important revelations

January 14th, 2009 — 11:17am

Here are some things I’ve noticed this past week, in no particular order:

  1. I’m never too old for a Cinnamon Toast Crunch breakfast, and I’m never too far removed from college life to crave a bowl of Ramen noodles.
  2. You know those packets of apple cider mix?  You know how when you rip one open, some stray powder escapes and swirls around in the air?  It seems that smell induces instant nostalgia.  I’m back in a Connecticut winter.  Ice skating on the pond in the woods behind the Wirz’s house.  With my brother.  The ice creak-cracking as he shovels off the heavy snow.  I’m on hockey skates, NOT figure, thankyouverymuch.  Frozen-red fingers and toes.  The hot, sweet taste of cider thawing me from the inside out.  Blowing the steam from my mug onto my face.  It’s amazing to experience those feelings again all while standing at my kitchen sink.
  3. When I ask Bryant to pick up a gallon of milk at the store, he will always come home with 2%.  He will also come home with much more exciting groceries than I would’ve found.  It’s definitely more fun when he does the shopping.
  4. Little kids are cool because however timid they may seem, they’re usually pretty convinced that they can learn how to do anything.  And they will ask you to teach them.
  5. The terms “feminine” and “masculine” are completely useless.  They’re stupid, completely subjective, and (largely) arbitrary words with no good definition.  I’m removing them from my lexicon.
  6. It’s actually pretty easy to avoid subjects I don’t want to talk about.  I wish I had realized that a long time ago.  Could’ve been really useful.
  7. The internet is a great time vacuum—a black hole of productivity that takes control of my consciousness and prevents me from being useful. (It’s also a convenient scapegoat for wasted time.)

2 comments » | for my amusement, good things, junk food, lists, nostalgia, quirks, un-categorizable randomness

the skin of my emotions lies beneath my own

December 17th, 2008 — 12:48am

Stages of my hurt feelings:

  1. Ask “wait, what do you mean?” …as if the person truly cares about increasing my understanding. Or truly cares about anything for that matter.  I don’t yet recognize my naivety.
  2. Laugh along as if I think it’s funny too. I was just joking when I asked for clarification. Aren’t I funny? Keeping the joke going like that? Hoo boy. Talk about funny.  Sooo funny…
  3. Quietly realize that I don’t actually think it’s funny and quickly force the corners of my lips upward. Smile smile smile.
  4. A quick attempt at diverted conversation.  What are they talking about over there?  Ooh, that’s so interesting.  Really, I’m interested… no really… I’m not just trying to divert my brainwaves.  Honest.
  5. When the topic that originally stung me comes up again—yes again, and then again, and again, and AGAIN—force myself to laugh again, and again, and again.  It begins to get old.  Increasingly difficult to pretend.
  6. Recognize that if this doesn’t stop soon, there’s a very real chance that I’m going to cry.  In front of all these people.  Don’t cry, Kelly.
  7. Think about something else.  Immediately.  And don’t stop thinking about something else until I can get out of there.  …This is weird; it has been incredibly long since I’ve felt this way, and the strangely familiar feeling burns like a long-forgotten wound.
  8. Thankgoodness, it’s over and I can leave.  A strange mix of relief, irritability, and hidden embarrassment fight for dominance inside.
  9. Home.  Finally alone.  In the freedom of my own space, my embarrassment morphs into anger.  Anger at the people laughing.  Anger at the person talking.  My mind suddenly flows with all the cruelly honest things I could’ve said to hurt the offender.  Ooooh, I wish I had thought of these things in the moment.  Is this satisfaction I feel?
  10. A rush of relief that I didn’t think of those things in the moment.  And no, that feeling was not actually satisfaction, just some superficial counterfeit.  If I had said those things, I would’ve been filled with one of those sensational feelings that soon burns away, leaving me feeling worse in the end.
  11. That realization puts my mind at ease for a while.  I find myself in an empty calm.
  12. Now that I’m calm, maybe I can reassess what happened objectively.
  13. No.  Not yet.  Still not objective enough, and I slip into feelings of despair.  Global sadness: my emotions are no longer directed towards the offender specifically, but now at humankind in general.  People are rotten and insensitive.  People are shallow and bigoted.  People refuse to consider other points of view and other people’s feelings.  There is no hope for the world and I wish at that moment that I weren’t a part of it.  It seems humans will never change.  Misunderstandings thrive.  Hate grows.  And we destroy one another.  So it always has been.  Must it always be?
  14. Recognizing that I’m being ridiculous doesn’t make me feel better.
  15. Some ambient music and a mindless puzzle game help me divert my thoughts again.  Gosh, this music is hypnotizing.  I find calm, again.  Maybe this time it’s more real.
  16. And here we are at the present.  I consider this strange cycle of emotions… doing so is oddly therapeutic.  How interesting to replay the night’s events without feeling my emotions stir up again.  Instead I’m just a curious (almost) disinterested observer examining how those events once caused my emotions to ignite.  I feel like I’m peeking into a shoebox diorama of my own brain… on my blog.  (Well hello there world.)
  17. Peace?  Probably not quite yet.  But I guess at least I’m closer.

6 comments » | lists, quirks, what's inside

to do

December 11th, 2008 — 1:04pm

Before I die, I hope I…

…knit a scarf. I hate to admit it, but I have yet to finish any knitting project I have begun. It’s shameful. Even finishing a simple scarf would be commendable.

…experience midnight in broad daylight. The idea that there are places on the globe where the sun doesn’t set during the solstice is fascinating and irresistible to me. I want to be there for that.

…stare at the aurora borealis over my head. (I think I’ve got Alaska on my mind.)

…ride a horse at an insanely fast gallop across a big, wild, wide-open landscape. Movies make it look so exhilarating.

1 comment » | hopes, lists, pictures, quirks, the great outdoors, travels

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