Things to do Today Tomorrow

I was going to post this sooner, but I have simply been too busy. You see, procrastination is my prevailing vice.

Procrastination has always been a big part of my life. As a little girl I would be tossing on my coat and grabbing a handful of Frosted Flakes thirty seconds before the bus was scheduled to arrive. In high school, I was memorizing lines for the play an hour before dress rehearsal. When I was in college, I was the student who wrote her paper at two in the morning. As a first year teacher, I was reading an excerpt of To Kill A Mockingbird the prep hour before I would teach it. When pursuing my Masters Degree in Education, I finished my final portfolio the morning I met with my supervising professor. Currently, I write letters of recommendations hours before students need them, I don’t clean off the kitchen table until I know there will be guests for dinner, I finish reading my book group novel the night before (sometimes minutes before) we are scheduled to get together, and I leave the house seconds before I need to in order to reach my destination on time.

I am well intentioned. I try extremely hard to not procrastinate. Nonetheless, I eventually procrastinate on my intentions…and then, well, I end up procrastinating. A prime example is my fiancés and my wedding, which is scheduled for June. Things started out great: the dress was picked out over a year before the wedding, invitations were ordered months before they needed to be mailed, and I just finished baking (and freezing) the cookies we will be giving out as favors. Still, I fear that the little tasks will catch me in the end. Will I have time to put together the gift bags for those who stay overnight at the hotel in Wisconsin? Will I have fit in a trip to get my toes and nails buffed and polished? Will I have found time to wrap a box for cards to be placed in? It’s inevitable: I will procrastinate on something at some point, I am sure.

People rarely realize that I am a procrastinator. Probably because I will push myself hard to complete a task, making sure it is done on time and to my intrinsic high level of expectations, even if I stress myself into a state of tears attempting to complete the task. I will sacrifice sleep, sanity, and emotional stability to carry out my responsibilities. If only I was not addicted to procrastination, but rather to blowing things off, then my life would be much more laid back.

A Mini addiction

In the summer of 2004 I decided it was time to buy a new car. My two-wheel drive Ford Ranger, purchased in 2000, did not deserve to be tossed aside—overall, it had been a fine truck—but I had become bored with it. The way the back of the truck fishtailed on February, Minnesota roads (even with bags of sand piled in back) had grown old. The lack of space in the cab irked me whenever I went to the grocery store. On a spring day, with the air crisp and filled with promise, I detested the fact that I had to manually roll my windows down. Not to mention, it grew old having people call you to “get together” when really they needed something hauled somewhere.

That summer, I sold my Ford and bought myself a Mini Copper. To date, it is the best purchase I have ever made.

In August of 2004, when I first sat on the dark grey leather seats that I had custom ordered, I fell in love. My 2005 Cooper was shinny and new (cliché, I know, but true): perfect with all ten little fingers and ten little toes. Now, six years later, she is only beginning to show her age: the gas millage is not quite what it used to be. Nonetheless, I adore my little car.

Those of you car nerds out there may want all the specs that make me love her, but I don’t love my car because of her horsepower or the fact that I can make a U-turn on a narrow street. I appreciate those things, yes, but they are not what make me love my Coop. I love Mini because her seats are heated and welcoming each winter morning. I love that my stereo can fit any of my many moods, allowing me to blast my music in the Mini custom mode, the Festival mode, the Instrumental mode… On days like yesterday, I was reminded how much I love being able to roll down my windows and my open my sun roof and make my ride feel more like a convertible than a car. I love that I can fit five grocery bags, nestled perfectly side by side, in my boot. I smile whenever I have to lean to my passenger side to pop open the bonnet of my British love.

I know some day I will get rid of my Cooper, just as I did my Ranger. However, I am thinking I will not stray as far from my current car as I did when I decided to sell my Ford. Possibly my next car will be the Mini Countryman or Crossman (Mini’s not-so-mini versions)... I simply think once you are in the Mini family you don’t want to leave it.

Photo credits:
http://www.cargurus.com/blog/2008/10/31/here-are-the-top-5-concept-cars
http://www.automotive.com/2008/102/mini/cooper/base-hatchback/324/photos/colors/astro-black-metallic.html

I think I will marry the guy

I don’t know how I have managed to wait this long to blog about my most favorite thing of all (that is if one can classify him as a thing): my fiancé Scott. There are literally thousands of reasons why I adore Scott, and in an effort to not bore you or take up too much room on your monitor, I will only provide you with a sample of why Scott rocks my world.

1. He is awesome at trivia games because his brain is filled with otherwise seemingly useless facts.
2. He built me a marvelous shoe organizer in my closet that is now host to all 82 pairs of my shoes, and there is still room for a few more pairs…
3. He adores me despite the fact that I can be self-centered, snarky, and klutzy.
4. He tolerates my obsession with Scrabble and plays games with me often: both in person and online (I even anticipate he will play travel Scrabble with me while we honeymoon).
5. When I have a crappy day he lets me vent about it. If he had a bad day too, he lets me vent about mine first.
6. He loves trains, which I too have always been fond of; although his admiration for trains is more intense and rooted in a different foundation than my own.
7. When I am trying to be more mindful about my diet and exercise regime, he is encouraging. Plus, when I try and cheat, he keeps me honest.
8. I enjoy my life more now that he is in it.
9. He enjoys traveling, just as I do. Plus, he is a low maintenance traveler who is always well researched and prepared prior to arrival at our destination (which I love, because I am always ill prepared).
10. When I have overscheduled my day, he will log on to my Facebook account and harvest my Farmville crops for me.
11. When I am not feeling well, he brings me Chinese takeout.
12. He is made of awesome.

Would you like anything to drink? Yes, please!

My future in-laws may tease me about it (it’s all in good fun, I assure you), but I embrace the fact that I enjoy numerous different beverages. They commonly jest at the fact that, when out to dinner, I always have two or more drinks by my plate: a water and a soda; a water, a soda, and a cup of tea; a tea and a glass of water… What can I say, I enjoy hydration. But, even more than hydration, I enjoy caffeine; specifically, the caffeine found in Diet Coke or Coke Zero. Thus, I have posted the following:

pepsi will never do…

an effervescent sweetness
tingles upon my tongue—
the bubbles satisfying
a craving that once stung.

the caramel liquid swishes
around behind my lips.
i always sip on diet:
less inches for my hips.

and when i finally swallow
my favorite of drinks,
i feel the caffeine charge me
with vigor like a lynx.

without a Coke-a-Cola,
i’m gawky and inept—
but with my favorite beverage
I am, frankly, adept.

for one to win me over
a twelve-pack will suffice,
but if you want to be friends,
a twenty-four pack is the price.

Photo credit: http://manilastreet.wordpress.com/2010/01/

Mid-afternoon movies

Although I hate waking before the sun each day, there are perks to beginning my work day at 7:30. Namely, that on days when I don't have to tutor, head to a meeting, or quick get myself to my other job, I can catch a movie before dinner...before the ticket prices peek...before the crowds compile.

During my first years of teaching, my matinee excursions were almost always accompanied by my best friend, Adam. They were a frequent stress reliever for the two of us. Now, I find myself busier than I once was, and therefore less able to find a free afternoon for a movie. Nonetheless, even when I can't find the time to get to the movies, I am constantly filled with the desire. 

Matinee

for Adam

At 3:03 I get a text from you—

you’re wondering if I can catch a matinee at 3:25.

I smile, as I use my thumb to answer “sure”.

I log off of my computer, grab my coat, my empty lunch bag

and I head for the door.

I call it a day to be with you.

As I pull into the lot,

shimmering black from melting snow,

I do not even know what we will be seeing:

I don’t care.

You stand, just left of the ticket counter,

holding popcorn, tickets, and impatient smile.

I am early, but not early enough for you.

Entering “Theatre 6” I follow you up two rows,

where we sit in our typical spot,

and the seats fit us perfectly—

they should, we are here a few days each week.

“Nicolas Cage” you say aloud,

answering the trivia question that has been flashed on the screen,

“Edward Norton”: I correct.

You exhale slowly, grabbing the soda from me,

ignoring that I am right again.

I pass a Twizzlers—our white flag.

The lights dim, and then turn black,

and I turn to ask you a quick question.

But, over your golden frames you scold me silently—

They remind me how obsessed you are with previews.

So I turn front, pull my short legs under me,

and with buttered popcorn balanced between us

I realize, I still do not know what we are about to see. 

Time for some tea

In high school it became glaringly obvious that I would never be an avid coffee drinker. After play practice or a show it was common for my girls and me to gather at Perkins for a late night, celebratory snack. Being on high school budgets we typically ordered sides of fries or shared an order of mozzarella sticks, and for our beverage we chose something refillable and inexpensive. While Jess, Sam, Amanda, and Elena would order coffee, warming their hands on their ceramic mugs, I would sit there with my soda. And although the effervescence ticked my nose and the taste was sweet as I sipped, on a cold winter evening it lacked the warmth I craved. It was then I discovered the joys of tea.

It began with Lipton Black Tea, seeing as that was the singular option at Perkins in the late 90’s. However, by the time I went to college Perkins had evolved: an assortment of Bigelow teas was available. Finally, when late night study sessions and writer’s groups happened I was able to choose the tea that best fit my mood and not be drinking plain, black tea. Additionally, Noah’s Coffee was located only a few blocks from campus housing and the tea selection there was fair as well; allowing me to drink a beverage I enjoyed rather than coffee while I wrote my poetry or listened to the performance of an acoustic guitar player. By my junior year I was also buying tea to keep at home in my apartment cupboards. Primarily I bought tea blends consisting of star anise and cinnamon: my voice instructor had recommended it for medicinal reasons, seeing as it could coat and sooth overworked vocal cords, and I soon found myself loving the licorice flavor and spiced aroma. The summer before my senior year, during my travels to Senegal, I discovered that I even enjoyed tea when it was dry and over 100 degrees outside: the tribesmen claimed that warming up the inside of a body made it seem cooler outside.

Now, years later, I still find myself enjoying tea almost every day. With time I have become more finicky about the tea I drink—caring more about which herbs, flowers, leaves, spices, and combinations of those four are used. Currently, much of the tea I enjoy I brew at home. When in the mood for hot tea I pull out my French press, my electric kettle, and my Stash tea that I ordered loose for Oregon. I find the methodical moves of making tea peaceful and quaint: there is a calm to filling the kettle, waiting for it to boil, measuring the tea, waiting for it to steep, and then pouring a fragrant mug of tea. For years it was only hot tea, but my tea addiction has grown. In an effort to drink less soda, I began to search for other cold drinks that I enjoyed that were also cool and refreshing. Again I settled on tea; iced tea. Primarily, I crave Hawaiian mango black iced tea: my addiction to it has become such that my future in-laws, Hawaiian residents, have grown accustomed to bringing me a few containers of it when they travel to the mainland. The crisp, subtle sweetness of the mango balances the acidic black tea and together create a refreshing balance. While most typically carry around water in their Sigg bottles, inside mine one will find mango black tea.

Photo credit: www.thenibble.com

Pen lover

I have always been a lover of pens. The way a good pen feels in my hand as I grade students' essays, write a check, or fill out a form is heaven to me. I have always favored the fine tip version of the Uni-ball Vision Elite. The ink glides across paper without smudges, the pen refuses to leak, and the way it rests in the nook between my thumb and forefinger is divine. Not to mention that it comes in numerous colors (ideal for grading). Nonetheless, no pen is perfect. The Uni-ball Vision Elite is notoriously hard to find with a fine tip and the casing has a tendency to break. Plus, it is a rollerball pen, which means when the ink is beginning to run low it feels as if the pen is dragging across the paper instead of gliding.

Last week, my last colored ink version of my Uni-ball Vision Elite pens dried out: there was no way more orange ink was going to find its way out of that pen. This is why I went to Staples.

Now, I have a new love: Sharpie fine tip pens.

Understand, I didn’t simply toss aside my old love like one may toss aside the photograph of her old boy-friend. No, I was forced to cheat on my fine tipped Uni-ball Vision Elite pens: our Rochester Staples no longer keeps my former love in stock. Needing pens for the pile of mid-quarter grading that grew on my desk, I poured over the shelves trying to decide what pen could ever replace my Uni-ball Vision Elites. I dismissed all rollerball pens because I knew none would ever compare to my former addiction. The gel pens, although stocked in vibrant colors, were not available in a fine tip version. Marker pens, too, wrote too thickly: I would never be able to squeeze all my teacher comments into small spaces with those as my tool. Then, I shrugged and bought what looked the least offensive. A multicolor, four pack of Sharpie fine tip pens.

I will never go back to Uni-ball Vision Elite. I am done. I have learned that they are simply not good for me. My soul mate is made by Sharpie.

Sharpie fine tips glide across the page smoother than any pen with which I have ever written  The ink is vibrant but not glaringly bright, the thin casing rests idyllically in the fold of my thumb, and the whole set of four nests comfortably in the pen loops sewn into my briefcase. Sharpie fine tips were made for me.

Maybe this affair will last forever.

photo credit: http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2374/2470148857_9ab7c4d340_b.jpg

A technological dilemma

With the Olympics in full swing I am reminded of how much I have come to rely on the DVR (Digital Video Recorder). It is not uncommon for CNBC to be broadcasting the curling match I want to watch, while NBC simultaneously is showing a variety of events that I also want to see. Plus, I don’t want to miss any of my regular shows.

Today, I am in charge of running the boy’s basketball concessions with my Link Leaders; therefore, yesterday I was preparing my DVR for a busy night of recording my favorite TV shows: Survivor, Vampire Diaries, Grey’s Anatomy, Private Practice, and Project Runway. Typically, despite the quantity of shows I dare not miss, I never have a problem plugging in all the Thursday shows I want to save for later. However, yesterday when I was programming my TiVo I ran into a glitch: only two programs can be recorded at a time—usually a non-issue, but usually the Olympics are not on TV. In addition to my plethora of regular shows, I also wanted to record the NBC footage starting at seven o’clock (it’s time for women’s ice skating) and my fiancé wanted to TiVo the US women playing Canada in hockey. Dilemma.

Had this been the 2006 Olympics I would have been bummed to possibly have to miss a few shows, but never angry that I could not record them. In 2006 if I had wanted to see a show during a time when I could not be home, I recorded it on a VHS tape. Back then I could never tape more than one show at a time, much less two! Now, in 2010, I can record two shows at once plus catch most previously broadcast shows on Hulu or directly on network sites.

Conversely, as it turned out, the DRV dilemma was a much simpler one to solve than I had first thought: Vampire Diaries, Grey’s Anatomy, and Private Practice are all reruns tonight.

Photo credit: popularity.tumblr.com

Ode to Minty Goodness

The golden arches call to me
in spring to set my taste buds free.

The season of new beginnings,
commence with cool, minty winnings—

For two dollars and ninety-nine
my stressful day becomes divine.

I know it’s never a mistake
with each slurpy sip of milkshake.

All summer and winter I’ve ached
for the taste of a Shamrock shake.

Now, as snow outside starts to thaw
I draw perfection through my straw.

This milky, minty, marvel calms
my nerves, my doubts, and all my qualms.

Simplistic joy is worth the cost
of gaining back the pounds I’d lost.


Typically rhyme and meter are not my thing, but for a poem about a shake it seemed fitting.

Photo credit: http://www.nydailynews.com/lifestyle/food/2007/03/16/2007-03-16_shamrock_shake_shocker_its_disappeared.html

I wish I was in Vancouver

I am not sure why school is in session this week, nor next week for that matter: the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics are in full swing.

My fiancé and I kicked off this memorable fortnight with a let-us-eat-cake-and-watch-the-opening-ceremony party, at which we sampled wedding cake possibilities and (*gasp of shock and surprise*) watched the 2010 Winter Olympic opening ceremonies. From the moment the Canadian snowboarder Johnny Lyall glided through the Olympic rings my pulse began to quicken and it has not slowed since. Daily I find myself spending all free moments in front of the television watching athletes compete, professional commentators state opinions, and newscasters interview medalists LIVE from Vancouver.  

I do not have a favorite winter Olympic sport—I sincerely enjoy them all. I am as amazed by each calculated throw of the rock in curling as I am by the strength it takes to toss a seventeen-year-old girl high enough in the air that she can rotate three times before landing perfectly balanced on one ice skate. I am as mesmerized by Apollo Ohno’s speed on the ice as I am by Hannah Kearney’s balance on the moguls. I am as thunderstruck by athletes who fly down the iced track feet first in luge as I am by those who fly head first in skeleton. All around, the winter Olympics have a pull from which I can not break free.

My addiction to the Olympics reaches beyond the sports themselves. While running errands or driving to work I commonly find myself humming the Olympic tune: sometimes I even sing aloud the words of this technically word-free song. (This is the Olympic theme song: it has no words so I had to make them up! This is the Olympic theme song: time to compete and watch athletes on TV. [repeat] The Olympics, the Olympics: it’s time for the Olympics. The Olympics, the Olympics: this is the Olympic song.) They may not be the best lyrics I have written in my lifetime; nevertheless, they run through my head daily this time of year. Additionally, I love the commercials run during the Olympics. Thus far this year my favorites have been spun by Coke: the world’s best athletes breaking out into an impromptu snowball fight always makes me smile, as does being told that with each Coke I have ever purchased I have helped fund the Olympics. The competition and skill pulls me in, but the whole experience of the Olympics is what I am captivated by.

Alright, maybe a full two weeks off from school is too much—it’s simply never going to happen…but two weeks of early releases seems reasonable. 

Image found on washingtonpost.com