Talkin bout my generation

This afternoon I interviewed a 74 year old man for Basic Aspects of Aging class. Afterward, I felt horrible about my generation. He had a lot to say about people today; he said young people are greedy and selfish, they want instant gratification, they are disrespectful (specifically, they liter and use "private property as a public restroom"), and they have a poor work ethic. I mentioned that we aren't all like that, but I couldn't really argue because he's right. Unfortunately, his negative perspective is magnified by his window which looks out onto a downtown ally way.

So, despite any signs that I might be part of the younger generation, I've decided that I'm an old lady. Here's why:

1. Knitting. I like to knit; old ladies like to knit. That's what old ladies do with their spare time. They knit scarves, hats, socks, sweaters, anything knittable. Likewise, I've knitted several scarves and potholders.

2. Just like old ladies, I walk around hunched over with one hand on my hip, complaining about back pains. When getting up from the couch, I groan and curse about being stiff.

3. I go to the same places that old ladies do, such as the fabric store and the recycling center. Seriously, every time I got to the recycling center, there's at least one (other) old lady there.

4. I wear blankets around my shoulders like shawls and if I had a shawl, I would wear it.
Note: This point may have more to do with the fact that our house is very cold than my being an old lady, but the correlation is present.

5. I was born on June 11, 1925.

Good times.

CB for the weekend. Hung out with the family, watched some Creature Comforts, ate some good food, saw people, and, I know I'm spoiled, superficial, and girly, but I got lots of new and borrowed clothes and it makes me very excited.

Things That Make Me Happy: Part I

~ stepping on the little ice ledges that form along the edges of sidewalks and streets when the snow melts

~ melting snow

~ honey sandwiches

~ weekends starting on Thursday

~ recipes from strangers

~ going shopping for summer clothes even though I don't have money

~ ponies

yay!

17 days, 1 hour, 8 minutes :)

What the hell?

Sometimes in life, there are little quirks that just kind of make you go, "What the hell?" One of those quirks is automatic-flush toilets.

Most of the time they do not flush when they are supposed to. Usually, the problem is a forgetful toilet. These lazy ones, which I find most often at rest stops, do nothing at all when you get up. When this happens, you can either try to fake out the bathroom appliance (as Ellen suggests) or you can effectively press the little button put there through realization of inevitable automatic-flush failure -- which begs the question, Doesn't the button self-defeat the purpose of automaticity?

The reverse problem is also an issue, particularly, I have found, in the restrooms on the third floor of the library. Quite randomly and without warning, a toilet will decide I am done before I have made the decision for myself. Three times in one 50 second sitting the toilet flushed, startling me to my feet. The flushes are so random that I have questioned whether there is a person sitting in a surveillance booth laughing at me while pressing the detonator (but wouldn't that lose its amusement after a while?). On the positive side, I suppose overly-anxious porcelain may speed up the occupant and shorten the line to the bathroom.

On a related note, I would like to make a short bitch about the "self-absorbed" automatic paper towel dispenser at the House of Aromas. As I waved my wet hands around, the little sensor of the towel allotter ignored my presence. Then, as I walked away in defeat, (no joke), I heard "bzzzz.... hahahaha sucka!"

I am Melissa Ray

Raspberry Parfait
or Alcoholic Ice Cream

3-4 scoops vanilla ice cream
1/2 cup red raspberry wine

Stir ice cream and wine together until smooth.
Pour into pretty bowl. Serve immediately.
Serves 1.

Awww...

So I was walking home from class, when I crossed paths with this little black puppy with a big white snow beard. Hehehehe!

The name of the game is Procrastination.

Tonight Stewart and I played Risk and I got my ass beat. But, in my defense, it was my first time playing and I think I could have held Australia.
Besides Risk, here's another good way to procrastinate studying.

Busy busy work

Ack. Sudden decision to fill out UIC application = lots of crap to print off, fill out, essay about, and request = pain in the ass.

Puking is no fun

Saw Pink Panther today. Steve Martin's accent is hilarious. My favorite part of the movie is when the street stand explodes.

Rachel and I watched some of the luge in the olympics. That shit is scary as hell. I saw a luge track in Salt Lake City, and it looks just as unsafe in person as it does on tv. I'll bet that the reason some of the tv cameras miss their cue is because the cameramen decide they don't want to risk being decapitated by a sled flying off the track at 90 mph. I wonder how many people have died while luging.
(Is "luging" the correct terminology?)

You'll never guess...

What's big, yellow, and eats rocks?



A big, yellow rock-eater!

A charmed life

13 percent of people in the U.S. live in poverty. For children, the number is 17 percent. And poverty doesn't just mean living uncomfortably. In 2003, a family of three would be considered below the poverty line if they made less than $15,260 in one year. Think about a mother with two children who has to pay for rent, transportation, food, childcare, clothing, healthcare. If a family is below the poverty line, they may possibly qualify for Head Start, Food Stamps, the National School Lunch Program, Low-Income Home Energy Assistance, and the Children's Health Insurance Program. If a household makes $15,261, they do not qualify. Of the 17 percent of children growing up in poverty, how many get help? How many are able to break the cycle? How many are abused by their stressed out parents who cannot even get help for themselves?
This is what makes me want to be a social worker.
I just don't know if I could handle it.

U.S. Census.

How many dips can you make?

Bleh. Too much Superbowl junk food. But Mario projected onto a big screen is awesome. I heart Rachel. It's true.

Blueberry tea is delicious.

Friday night was the Madcat Women's International Film Festival. There were some hilarious and creative animations including a stop-motion short about a transsexual grasshopper and another about a crazy wheelie-footed pope. Later in the night there was Harold and Maude on a giant screen. I love that movie, especially when it's half the size of the livingroom. I want to be Maude.

Thanksgiving in February

Today Greg and I went to Czech Village in Cedar Rapids. We ate at the Czech restaurant and had delicious pastries from the bakery shown in the reflection of this window. I think the lady is a magic fortune-telling queen.

Then we drank a Thanksgiving meal with these Jones sodas flavored: Smoked Salmon Paté, Broccoli Casserole, Turkey and Gravy, Corn on the Cob, and Pecan Pie.

Wow, they were disgusting. The salmon paté literally made me gag. Of course, being a vegetarian, I might not be the best judge. Nonetheless, I think I'll stick to chewing my food.