Me and Pythagorus down by the school yard

WORLD'S ARE COLLIDING!  

Oil and water are mixing...asparagus no longer makes your pee smell...Hillary and Obama are vacationing with the Bush's in Lebanon...and all because I have finally reconciled God and Science!  Thats right!  There are no excuses anymore for black and white not coming together, for catholics and protestants to not break bread with one another, or for stilettos to hurt your feet!  I can't believe that after hundreds of thousands of years and millions of "intellectuals" working together to bring God and Science together that I, Laquina, have done the impossible.  I alone dared to dream of a better world and I alone have conquered all.  Picture this:  One week ago I walk into math class ON time (miracle 1).  There is a new man pacing the front of the classroom instead of poor teacher E. (miracle 2).  As soon as the bell rings he tells us that he is our new teacher for the rest of the semester (miracle 3).  He proceeds to let us decide how we would like our class to run (miracle 4) - "You don't want quizzes?  Then we won't have any...".  We discover that our slates have been wiped clean and we are basically participating in a mock block class (miracle 5)!  As I tell my brother in law of my newfound luck he suggests that perhaps it might be a little more than luck.  That's when it hit me...God has taken science under his wing to give me a second chance.  

Never before have I been graced with such a series of miracles and probably never again will I receive such an opportunity.  It is nothing other than divine intervention that I was given a second chance at my worst class.  For the next two months at least the stars are aligned and the earth has stopped wobbling on its axis.  Feel free to swim right after eating...don't use any sun-block while vacationing on the equator...don't fasten your seat-belt when the pilot turns the sign on...  drink water upside down!  Nothing bad can happen while God and Science are temporarily getting along so well.  Defy the odds and go crazy for a while.  Let your hair down and relax with the knowledge that you don't need to stay up at night anymore worrying about evolution because for now it doesn't matter and it all makes sense.  Ahhhh...feels good.    

You drive me crazy..

I hate road trips.  I hate sitting in the car for hours and hours and trying to find a happy medium of music for all the travelers.  I hate getting stuck on the side of the car that has a constant baking stream of sunlight heating you up 20 degrees more than anyone else so that when you ask for more air-conditioning they just laugh at you because they are actually a bit chilly.  So then you try and wedge your pillow against the window to find relief and when that keeps falling down you finally resort to a shirt or sweatshirt of some sort that you drape across the top of the window trying to hold it down in the whipping wind so that when you roll the window up with one hand it doesn't fall out or droop.  I hate "holding it" because everyone else wants to drive longer and there are no services forthe next 50 miles.  I hate rotating the driving and not being able to sleep if you are in the front seat.  I just hate them - so I took one this weekend.  I didn't want to.  Faced with a 10 hr road trip or sitting on my couch watching Talk Soup the answer is always sitting on my couch.  But I went anyways and it ended up not being so bad.  Mainly because on the way home we decided to stop and see one of the natural wonders of the world: The Grand Canyon.  Neither of us had ever seen it.  There was only one small problem; I suffer from debilitating vertigo.  In math terms, Grand Canyon+Vertigo=tossing my cookies.  Only I didn't really throw-up, I just wanted to.  The only thing worse than having vertigo at the Grand Canyon is being there with someone who doesn't understand it...at all.  My vertigo is not quite at the level of Lucille Two who can't walk down a hallway straight, its more like I get dizzy and disoriented when being around sheer drop-offs.  There we were at a giant look-out over the majestic canyon and I was slinking down the middle of the walkway practically crawling toward the edge.  Only I never made it to the edge.  I felt nauseous and dizzy and had to sit down on the rocks.  

Ricky was not sympathetic.  "Come on, come to the edge" he coaxed.  "No thanks.  I can't" I tried.  "Oh come on, you can't see how deep it is" he pleaded pulling my arm in the direction of the edge.  "I know we are really high up" I said panicking.  "Come ON" he forced, dragging me from the center.  "Stop, stop, STOP" I nearly screamed, "I'm fine here and if I'm going to do it I need to do it alone" I assured.  It seemed like EVERYONE was looking over the edge around me.  Young, old, really old, Japanese, Lesbians...everyone except me.  I decided to try and be brave by inching along along the rock step I was sitting on while trying to peer over the edge but I just couldn't.  Unless you suffer from vertigo you never quite understand the phobia.  Ricky sure didn't.  He spent the whole trip peering over edges and trying to pull me to my death.  

Does anyone else have a debilitating phobia or is it just me?

*Ok, the pics are actually from the Glen Canyone Dam but it was really high too and I didn't have the Grand Canyon pics on my phone.  

As you wish

As I was driving home tonight John Tesh (yes, you read that right) was talking about a study done in Australia that linked smelling cinnamon and vanilla with a rush of "feel-good" emotions to the brain.  I completely agree.  I have long been touting cinnamon as an aphrodisiac and digestion aide.  I love the smell of cinnamon, I love the taste of cinnamon and I even like the feel of cinnamon.  My favorite part of valentines cookies are the cinnamon hearts placed on top.  My favorite flavor of jolly ranchers is fire and I even go so far as to eat cinnamon sticks straight-up bark and all.  You get the picture.  But today I walked into a restroom on campus and was completely taken aback when the scent of cinnamon wafted towards me.  The ladies room smelled like cinnamon rolls.  I don't know, there is just something I don't trust about a bathroom that smells like cinnamon rolls.  Its like the feeling that cops get when they get a call and they just know that something really bad is going to happen.  I kept waiting for something bad to happen.  I wondered if my toilet was going to explode the minute I tried to flush it.  I thought maybe my stall door would fall off the hinges when I tried to open it.  I got all the way to washing my hands before I noticed something.  As I was grabbing paper towels I felt an extra "thickness".  I KNEW IT!!!  The paper towels were coming two papers thick.  My intuition is dead-on every-time.  And unless I'm wrong - and I'm never wrong - they are headed straight for Gilder.

The house that boiled wool built

I saw this picture of my friend Stephen and I instantly thought "Stephen is wearing my mom's jacket".  

I was in complete disbelief.  How did he even get it to begin with and why was he stretching it out by wearing it?  I looked to my right and I looked to my left searching for someone to say "hey, can you believe he is wearing my mom's jacket?" to.  But there was no one.  So I called Jenaper from the other room, "Jenaper...you have to come see this!  My friend stole mom's jacket and is wearing it".  She couldn't believe it either.  "That definitely looks like mom's" she assured me.  How can I tell?  I live in the house that boiled wool built.  Ever since I can remember my mother has been sporting boxy jackets and blazers crafted in the mountains of Switzerland/Austria made of fine boiled wool.  She even has a designated holding cell for these jackets shipped directly from the alleyways of Switzerland.  It makes the jackets more comfortable to be housed in something that came from the same homeland.  They also have two beds, two night-stands and a dresser at their disposal. 

 Here is the fancy key that leads to the armoire:

And here is the armoire itself:

Open the armoire and see all of the boiled wool jackets!

As a kid I loved "The Lion the witch and the wardrobe" book and I always had a feeling that my mothers wardrobe was magical as well.  It just looks like there is a secret world of ice queens and centaurs hidden behind its contents.  A few times I even tried to push through all the boiled wool to make it through but I just couldn't stand the feeling of the steel-wool fibers against my soft skin.  I hate that feeling more than nails on a chalkboard or someone wrapping their fingers under my collarbone.  Growing up my mother was always acquiring new boiled wool garments and trying to dispense them to me but the very sight of those scratchy fibers would send me into convulsions until they were removed from sight.  I could never understand her love of them.  And now I cannot understand Stephen's apparent love of boiled wool - although I found a lovely green number if you are interested sir:

 

Why wrap yourself in insulation when you can wrap yourself in cashmere I ask?

Leap Frog

Friday was leap year day and in honor of Leap year day I wanted to do something that I would only do every 4 years.  Honestly it was really hard to think of something.  I feel like I do a lot of odd things on a pretty regular basis.  It seemed to all lead back to food and eating something full of cream really late at night - But its not like I don't do that semi-weekly anyway.  Then the idea came up of me wearing sweats out on the town and perhaps watching a few episodes of Battlestar Galactica, but I just couldn't bring myself to wear sweats out in public and I didn't have any B.G. readily available...crap.  Things were not looking good for Leap year day festivities as I headed to Tara's house.  So we decided to go to a new pizza place down the street for a slice and some brainstorming.  As soon as we walked inside the owner told us there was Karaoke in the back.  So naturally we made a b-line for the back room.  He had to come after us to get our order.  We stayed in that back room for over 2 1/2 hrs just us, one employee and the sweet sound of me belting out Celine Dione.  Other customers would come peek their heads in every once and a while but they must have been too intimidated by my rendition of "Girls Girls Girls" by Motley Crue to actually come in.  But we didn't care.  At one point we had a sweet, sweet 'Cheers' moment when I put on "That's Amore" and all the workers/owners came in and we all sang together in unison.  Tara sang a little Madonna, I sang Enrique in Spanish and together we dueted JoJo's "get out".  B-e-a-utiful!  By the end of the night our voices were horse but we were the better for it.  Keep an eye out for us this summer as we have been requested to perform outside the restaurant for all who care to listen.  It was the perfect Leap year day activity especially since I haven't done it in almost 4 years.  What did you do to celebrate Leap year day?