Pennsylvania: A Love Story

Susquehanna River, courtesy of myself on my jogging tour through the rain.

I confess that I sometimes forget Pennsylvania is a state. Or DID, rather, because now it is seared into my memory for all time. I think the problem was that when pondering upon the states in the contiguous US, I picture them in regions - and I never knew how to categorize PA. I sort of pictured Midwestern, even though it's Eastern, and Amish and countryside, even though it's the state of Ben Franklin and Philly. Yuck. And when I say yuck I am referring to Philadelphia based solely on stereotypes, not B. Frank whom I love dearly.

Anyway. The following is a list of the reasons why I just might have to get me a house in PA:

1) I'm a sucker for wide open spaces. Remember Lucy on The Peanuts Christmas, and she says she never gets what she REALLY wants for Christmas - Real Estate? I share the same dilemma. I stopped believing in Santa when I continued to NOT get a ranch for Christmas. Or a photograph of Rudolph.

2) This man. Mjr. Richard Winters of the 101st Airborne Division, who lives in Hershey, a mere 15 minutes from where I was staying. I love him. If only he weren't in his nineties and married. Such is my luck.
Not familiar with this stud? It's high time that you Netflix Band of Brothers then. And as extra motivation, the cast is really hot.

3) Speaking of love, I found my destiny on the plane ride back from Harrisburg connecting in Cincinnati. Truly, if ever there was a man made just for me, he was it. Beautiful, witty, workaholic, AND had a farm that sat on 300 acres which he HUNTED ON and rode ATVs on with his family. HELLO match made in heaven. Too bad he lives across the country. And didn't ask for my number. And don't feel like you need to tell me he's just not that into me, because I KNOW. A passionate celibacy is what I will have to content myself with I suppose, because I'm pretty sure he was my one shot at true love.

Moving on.

4) If one can judge a place by its airport, and I fully believe that one can, then I think this says all I needed to hear:


Yes, rocking chairs. Outside of security next to the kiosks. I mean really, why not? It's genius! AND comfy. I rocked for a good 15 minutes before waltzing up to security where I had to wait behind all of two people. I just felt so much more relaxed. LOVE IT.

Do you live in Pennsylvania and have a great job you want to give me? All you have to do is say the words and I'm there.

"Halloween is the one night a year when girls can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it. "

So I know a lot of people just ADORE Halloween and claim it is their all time favorite holiday yada yada yada. But ever since the trick-or-treating days of yore ended it just doesn't seem to matter. What is the point of a holiday where you can no longer knock on a strangers door and demand candy in exchange for not pulling a trick on them?

Thankfully, there is no age limit on dressing up (or way, way down - depending on how you look at it). Costumes are an essential part of Halloween, and that, I think, is where my problem lies. Because here is what you maybe didn't know about me: I love going to places mostly naked.
Restaurants, the movies, playgrounds, church - you name it. My philosophy is The Less Clothed The Better.

And I don't really stand out when every other female, and the vast majority of males, are out-skanking me. All of these get-ups are stealing my thunder, and they act like they're SO ORIGINAL. I mean, why do we act like someone wrapping themselves in only cellophane and calling it a costume is the equivalent to brain surgery? Trust me, cello-wrap's not difficult to do, though it IS difficult to break dance in.

Just last night there was a pre-Halloween party, and the "Tarzan" who walked by got all kinds of stares and comments from my co-workers like, He's only wearing THAT?! And I was all, Please - like it's HARD to walk around in front of children with all your flesh exposed. I would like to see Mr. Thunder-of-the-Jungle pull that off next Thursday.

So really, I opt out of this holiday of pretension. If so many people not-so-secretly wished they were porn stars, why don't they just dress like that for everyday occasions like I do? Why all the spectacle and fanfare? Man all this nudity talk really makes me want some candy.

Another Tail for Tuesday

YOU GUYS. One of my worst nightmares came true last night. Remember this?




The Alligator Lizard of All Freakiness that I woke up to one day, STARING at me as it sat on MY HEAD?!? Consider this Unsolved Mystery case re-opened. Here is how it happened:

It was late at night and I was about ready to crawl into bed. My little sister was sleeping so I had a dim lamp on, ergo my eyesight was a little senior-citizen. I go to turn down my bed, and there it is - SITTING ON MY PILLOW! After my initial heart attack, my first thought was, OMG the diseases that thing is leaving on my clean linens is probably unfathomable! Thankfully, this was Rabid Lizard Junior - so it was only a couple inches long (not including tail). BUT STILL.

Dad was up, so I ran into his office and declared that he just WOULD NOT BELIEVE what was lounging on my bed at this very moment. I am eternally grateful that Dad is more adept at catching lizards than my worthless brothers, because he caught that sucker in one swipe (recall, if you will, Sam and his 20 minutes of "Swat the lizard with your glove").

Though I was exhausted and now nauseated and so confused at how this happened, AGAIN, I changed my sheets - like I'm going to sleep on something that nasty creature crawled all over. As I took my small blankie (laugh if you will, but yes I still sleep with my baby blanket) and began to shake it out, I got yet another surprise:

What you see here friends is the FULL-BODY-SKIN-SHEDDING of serpent junior. I am pretty much vomitting in my mouth right now in this narrative. I hope you are too - that's why I posted the picture. Because misery loves company.

Dudes - how did this happen again?! From whence are they coming? And why on MY bed? And why MY HEAD? Are they attracted to the smell of my shampoo? Do I emit some freak cold-blooded animal hormone? Because heaven knows I don't produce any pheromones (see: attraction). Am I actually part reptilian and didn't even know it? I mean, really - that would explain a lot.

So not only did Little Lucifer mysteriously sneak into my room, crawl under my comforter and get cozy on my pillow, but it also shed in my favorite blanket! That just really pushed me over the edge, you know? I mean, I'm kind of a patient girl - but no more! Which is why I am DECLARING WAR AGAINST ALL CREATURES OF THIS SPECIES. No more missy nice pants here - you disgusting animals have gotten the easy treatment from me. I WILL discover where you are skulking in from. And when I catch you I will throw you, with all my might, to the mutt mongrels next door - yes, the dogs owned by THE NEIGHBORS. And I will taunt them with you first, to make an example to all your nasty buddies who are apparently in on this prank too.

This war is official now. Be afraid, Spawn of Satan.
Be VERY afraid.

Some deep thoughts for you to munch on

(Photo from Despair.com)

Because its Friday. And who actually works on a Friday afternoon? Nobody, that's who.

I was standing in front of my closet this morning, thinking "REALLY? Why do I even own this stuff? I really have NOTHING else?!" and I discarded at least half of it into my D.I. pile because it was all either too blousy or too frumpy or too chinsy or too embarrassing or just flat-out ugly. So I had to take a breather and do some 30-second meditating. Here is a glimpse into the enlightened workings of my inner mind whilst working on my ch'i:

Why is it that I can never just buy ONE pair of shoes when I go to Nordstrom Rack? I think it is physically impossible for me to walk out the exit doors unless I am holding at least 2 pair. Which is absurd, because OBVIOUSLY what I need is some new clothes, not shoes.

Speaking of shoes, I am convinced that Steve Maddens just do not fit the foot the way that they used to. Am I alone in this suspicion?

I am really slacking in keeping up with fall shows. I mean, I've got excuses I guess - like I travel a lot and I'm still into my Indian Summer of YA Fiction - but is there EVER a really good excuse to just NOT watch tv in the fall? I haven't even STARTED Gossip Girl - it's that bad! And there are a plethora of seemingly so-awful-it's-like-a-train-wreck-where-I-just-can't-look-away kinds of shows, like Melrose Place and Vampire Diaries and Sorority Wars. It's time to take my daily productivity down a notch, obviously.

And since it is now fall, it means time to start working on those Fall Goals! Namely, watching more tv (I WILL keep up with 30 Rock and Glee this season, I am determined) and getting some new clothes. From Target. NOT Gilt, WHITNEY LAU.

I really need a career, so I CAN shop at Gilt and simultaneously build up my retirement. But since that's not happening, thank you mom and dad for allowing your daughter to continue living a Peter Pan lifestyle.

To continue supporting procrastination, I present Cake Wrecks for your amusement. You've probably seen it already, but when I'm in need of a quick giggle Jen's dry wit and sarcasm are just a click away.

Three cheers to brain-mush Fridays!

Recommends

Oft times I come across something great and think, Hey! I should review that on the blog.

But I don't, because most thoughts that cross my mind linger for an average of 2.3 seconds, and then they revert to something like, How many cookies can I justify eating right now?

So here's an overdue list of a few of my favorite things. (Insert clip of Fraulein Maria dancing about in her nightgown whilst singing "Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. . ."):

1. H&M tee shirts. How has is taken me this long to discover them? They're soft, they're a good length, they're CHEAP. Like $5.95 cheap. And I'd post a link, but H&M won't let you buy their products online unless you live in Scandinavia somewhere. If this were an argument it'd be a wash, because it usually requires just too much effort to get me to an H&M to buy said cheap tee.


2. "It's a 10!" Leave-In Conditioner. As a self-proclaimed hair product connoisseur, I assert that this is the best conditioner out there; both the hair-repair mask and the spray. You'll be impressed with how silky and healthy your luscious locks feel. It's a little pricey, but you can find it cheaper online. Your hair will thank you, so - you're welcome.



3. A cousin who gives you free things - like A CAR:
I know, right? HELLO adorable black convertible beamer. Courtesy of lovely cousin Kit, I now have my own set of wheels!
Don't you wish someone loved you as much as Kit loves me? Are you all crying with envy? Well rightly so. When I first drove this home I constantly yelled "FREEEEDDOOMMMM!!" real loud like William Wallace in Braveheart . . . TMI, I know.



4. The Hunger Games and Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins. I don't ever review books on here, mainly because that is a serious business, and here at NRL we avoid all things serious. Also, book choice can be personal, and I don't know how your book tastes run when you ask me for book recommends. Also, I can be a bit snobbish, and I now understand I can't throw things out like Atlas Shrugged to just anyone when they ask me what they should read next.

Anyway. I am telling you that if you want something good - read The Hunger Games. It's the first of a trilogy, and the second book, Catching Fire, was just released. They are Young Adult novels that deal with some dark and disturbing themes and situations, but (to me) it never gets graphic. If you like intensity, good writing, good love triangles, rebellions, and you're not an idiot, you'll like these. WARNING: they end very abruptly. If you are the type who CAN NOT handle a cliffhanger, then maybe consider waiting till the final book comes out next fall. Though I wouldn't recommend doing that. Jump on the bandwagon NOW people.

ALSO. Find me on goodreads.com if you really want to see what else I've been reading. Remember summer of YA Fiction? Going strong guys. Going strong.




5. Living here (also referred to as Paradise, minus the crap economy):
I was driving home from Irvine last week, and I stopped in Huntington to film some surfers, because, you know, I could. As I was meandering on the pier I thought to myself, Huh. This is my LIFE. Living in shorts and eating fish tacos and watching the surfers. Awesome.


6. Benefit Creaseless Eyeshadow.
I know, I was skeptical at first too. So I went to Sephora to try some on and see how long it lasted. I use the scientific method, you see. I was surprised that when I went to wash my face, usually betwixt 10pm and midnight, it was still fully intact without creaseage! I still don't actually own any, seeing it runs almost $20 per pot, but I have tried a few different colors, and each time it has easily lasted all day. It's definitely going on The Christmas List 2009.


Sheesh - I should get some kind of kickback for all that free advertising.

Have anything you'd like to add? Go ahead and comment to your hearts' content. And if you somewhat enjoyed this, but wish it were funnier or more interesting, head on over to my friend Rachie's blog where she reviews the latest: Roku Box!

For Amber

My grandparents have a cabin in Shaver Lake. They've owned it for. ev. er. My dad practically lived there every summer growing up. It's a nice place, and after NINE YEARS I was finally able to go back. Grams and Gramps love the place too - can you blame them - they live in FRESNO and they have a wonderfully nice secluded cabin in the woods, which is why their 8 children and their kids (and now apparently those kids with their spouses go for romantic getaways - which I would vote down if I could - I mean REALLY, its a family cabin not a honeymoon suite) rarely get to go. But I spent lots of time there as a wee thing with the sibs and cousins. Ah the memories . . .

See that huge log? I fell off it once while trying to cross it whilst it was covered in snow, and I landed in the frozen creek below it. It was a near death experience. Saw the bright light and everything. Though thinking back on it, it could've just been snow it my eyes. At any rate, those were the times when I was unaccepting of my clumsiness. Now I embrace it.


So at the end of the summer we had a family vacation, the first in years with all 6 kids there, where we made a pilgrimage back to The Cabin - only to find ourselves doing a lot of this:

Watching TV.

Well, after our nightly walk to Indian Rock where we star gaze and muse about the Indians who used to grind their corn there. Don't judge too harshly though - we are without cable at my house. A sore trial for everyone except my mom. Man vs. Wild always won out, which is no surprise as I'm used to being out-voted with 4 brothers, but don't be fooled . . . What Not To Wear came on during every commercial, and I didn't even have to request it.

As is was quite hot, we played at the lake during the day. And by "we played" I mean I sat in the boat and watched whilst the boys attempted to wake board and knee board and other painful activities I'd just rather NOT, and that suits me perfectly. I did spend a day rock jumping with the babies though, so that has to count for something. AND I tubed. Which any idiot with a decent grip can do. Idiot being the key word. Case in point:

Before.



After.
I caught lots of air, Kyle jammed his finger, Paige bled, the twins cartwheeled over the water, and Zach and Sam hung on so tight that they SKIDDED on the water behind the tube because they refused to let go.

So, it was a success.
And everything that tubing should be.


Here we see some of the crew, but not me, because I'm obviously utilizing my talents: sitting and tanning and watching (judging).
And despite my irrational fear of lakes (monsters and other bottom lurkers that consider me as a tasty treat), I jumped over the side every time we stopped (read: someone wiped out), because the water felt SO GOOD.

Behold Captain Kevin, whom I also refer to as Dad, who only let The Helm out of his grasp whilst he wake boarded for a whopping ten minutes. How we ever survived those ten minutes I will never know, because a) the boat sat REALLY low and took on water every time the smallest of wakes splashed by, and b) there was a madman at The Helm (read: Lance). Twin + machinery = heart failure for those in the general vicinity.


Shockingly, there were no trips to the ER, broken bones, sprains, or deep gashes that needed stiches . . .Quite miraculous considering he's jumping into 4 feet of water. But what's new?


And that, dear friends, BARELY scratches the surface of what went down at The Family Vacation, but I shall spare you the rest. I really don't think I get thanked enough for posting so few pictures and stories of my family.

As a side note: Notice the wood-paneled door in the picture of us in the family room? It's locked, and only Grams and Gramps have the key which means no one, and I mean NO ONE (unless maybe their favorite child Amy) is allowed to step into the other side . . . Have I piqued your interest of the secret room on the other side of The Door? I'M not even sure what the room on the other side looks like. Which is why I can say with total confidence that EVERY SINGLE PERSON who comes to stay there looks for the spare key that may or may not be hidden somewhere in The Cabin. Consider it a treasure hunt, a quest.

It's always something at the Seven-Eleven

It has been SO HOT here the last few days, and in these parts we don't believe in air conditioning. Mostly because there is only a week or so where the temps reach above 80. So when I got back from DC on Thursday and walked into my stuffy house, I had one unquenchable desire: BIG GULP.

Off I went to get me a 32 oz. at the closest Seven-Eleven, and it was the happening place, let me tell you. Diet Coke in hand, I waited in line to pay, and as I stood there this middle-aged man in a business suit walks in. NOT good looking. But my attention was diverted, so I looked his way. And he flashes me this big smile, and raises his eyes brows at me. I looked around to see if he was looking at anybody else, but no, apparently not. Because as I was in my car backing out, he walked out and gave me the same look. Raised eye brows and all.

Now, let me clarify - this WAS NOT a leer. Not a construction site stare-down. Not even in the same category as a trapped-at-the-stop-light check out. It was like there was something about me he found . . . funny. Okay, I'm not always the world's best dresser on a big gulp run, but funny? My hair was in a pony tail, I was in jeans and a tee, and I didn't have chocolate or smeared lipstick on my face. I'm also fairly certain that I didn't know him.

Maybe this is a regular occurrence, but I'm too oblivious to notice. I was just so confused by the whole thing. At any rate, if ever I see him on the next inevitable BG run, I'm going to ask him what it is about my person that he finds humorous. And then, of course, I'll be so weirded-out by the exchange that it will have to end up on the blog.