Childhood Memory - Or, Why I Love Indoor Sports

Now that I'm moving back into my parent's basement (recap: I'm a 27 year-old college grad with an MBA moving into my parents basement), I've been thinking about the history I've had with that house. We moved in when I was 8, so really all my formative years were spent there. I learned how to doorbell ditch and toilet paper in that house. I learned how to hop fences and put fireworks in the sewer. Really, really important stuff here folks.

But only one memory is crowding out the rest. It's funny because it's not the greatest story and was just a tiny blip on the radar but it keeps coming to the forefront of my mind. So here it is. I'm sure my mom will deny the whole thing.

My brother and I used to sled down the main staircase. With sleds. Sleds.



I know kids like to slide down the stairs, perhaps even using a sleeping bag, but we used top-of-the-line, super-fast sleds. We have 13 carpeted stairs from the upstairs to the main level and boy can you catch some speed on those babies.


Luckily, my mom was at the bottom to catch us before we slammed our heads into the glass table merely inches away. Why didn't we ever think of moving that table?



But here's the kicker - it WAS ALL MY MOM'S IDEA. I swear. If it were up to my brother and me, we would still be using clumsy old sleeping bags. My mom is nothing if not efficient.



I can't remember why we stopped doing it, but it was probably in some horrific accident that I am forcing out of my memory because, well, we were SLEDDING down the stairs. With sleds.



Unfortunately, my parents have since put in hardwood floors so I won't get to show Mike when we move back in. Except the basement stairs are still carpet. And there's 11 of those...

The Post Without a Clever Title - Unless "Bleeding Arts" is Clever - No? Okay, No Title

I think I'm pretty employable.

Yes that's a word. I know things.

Anyway, I have this dream of working in a museum. Problem is, there are not that many openings for museum jobs in Utah. So as I scour the job websites and find a dearth of availabilities (big words = smart), I start to convince myself that I can do other things. Case in point, I just pondered submitting an application as an administrative manager for the Utah Blood Bank. Then I remember that I am totally squeamish and would probably not be the best manager they've ever had.

Blood Bank: Emily, can you carry these bags of blood to the second floor lab for testing, stat?

Me: *Giggling* Wow, do you people really say stat?

Blood Bank: Now who interviewed you again?

Me: Um, that girl with the long brown hair. I'll take it up right now.

2 minutes later the Blood Bank finds me passed out on the floor. Because I hate blood.

But it's not just blood that freaks me out. It's anything medical. When I first started college I was a pre-optometry major. My dad took me to watch a Lasik eye treatment on one of his patients. We're not talking watching it on a monitor or through a window or gallery, we were actually in the room. With hair-net thingies and everything. Things were going okay until they pulled the lens back off the eye. Suddenly everything started to go black from the bottom up. I told my dad I wasn't feeling well and the next thing I knew I was sitting in a chair and my dad was patting my cheeks. The whole procedure had stopped and the doctor and nurse were looking at me and asking if I was okay. I was all "yeah, I'm fine. Go ahead and continue." I tried to play it off like I just walked to the chair and sat down. Could it be possible that they didn't see my dad drag my body to the corner? I'd like to think so.

So the next day I promptly walked into the student services office and changed my major from pre-optometry to art history.

(And my parents promptly changed their hopes of having a successful daughter to hoping she "marry up")

And since I haven't fainted from looking at a painting yet I consider myself a success and should be rewarded by becoming the director of a museum.

So if any of you reading this own a museum and need a kick-ass director who only faints during medical procedures, call me.

Run Ken, Run!

Does anyone else think that dripping pipes sound a lot like people knocking on the walls? Scary people with chainsaws. Obviously, the chainsaws are not running because that would be a dead giveaway but they definitely have them. In the non-knocking hand, that is. So these chainsaw-wielding people live in my walls ala "The People Under the Stairs" and knock just to see if I'm paying attention and to ensure I get no sleep and write nonsensical blobs the day. And they won last night.

But not tonight.

Tonight I will pretend it's just My Little Ponies galloping around behind my bed. And that hissing sound? That's just Malibu Barbie's new pet cat. It's trying to get used to the ponies. And the clanking is just the gold falling in the pot at the end of the rainbow. And that scratching sound? That's definitely just a puppy running on the hardwood floor...or a chainsaw. But the thump-drag, well that sounds like Malibu Ken's leg is broken and he's trying to run away but he's not getting very far. And the screaming. And the howling. And the face melting. Oh God, what's going on in there!?!

I Hate Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (Unless I'm Eating One)

Well, Mike's gone and I'm officially on my own. At least until he comes back. It's hard but I'm hanging in there. I shopped away some sadness. I did some laundry and made macaroni and cheese for dinner (and by "made macaroni and cheese" I mean "put the frozen tray in the oven" - but I did have to pre-heat the oven). And everything was going fine until I saw the commercial.

The Reese's Peanut Butter Cups Halloween commercial.

You know, the one where there's creepy music and a sudden flash of lightning and then there is a scary face in the chocolate.

It's spooky.

And so it began. I re-checked all the locks about 600 times, came up with a plan if the Reese's monster broke in my front door or my back door and slept with my shoes on in case I had to make a run for it.

I don't think I'm overreacting. I'm just being prepared. You've never heard of a boy scout being eaten by a Reese's monster. And you know why? Because they take an oath to always be prepared.

Wait a minute, I just looked up the boy scout oath to see what other sage advice I should follow and "be prepared" isn't even in it! What kind of "organization" is this anyway? Don't they know they could be eaten by ghosts and monsters and spiders? They should sleep with their shoes on.

Uromysitisis

Bladder Update: I'm at work and I've had a lot of water to drink and I really have to go to the bathroom but there is this big spider/mosquito thing on the ceiling. I saw it this morning. It's right over the door. It has the legs and wings of a mosquito and the body (and probably soul) of a spider. It's the worst when they are on the ceiling, too. They can drop down on you any second. When I first went in there this morning I debated whether I should chance it and walk out or if I should wait it out until the thing dies of natural causes (or attacks me in a bloody final battle). After spending way too long in the bathroom I took a chance and dashed out. I escaped...barely. But now what to do? I have an hour and a half until I leave - can I hold it for that long? If I don't go, will I get uromysitisis?



Update Update: It's been an hour. I go to Mike's desk to talk to him.

Me: Have you read my blob yet?

Mike: No, I've been busy.

Me: It is very important that you read it.

Mike: Okay, I will. I just need to finish this.

Me: Um...I kind of need you to read it now.

Mike: Fine. I will stop processing this hugely complicated order (or whatever it is we do) just to read your blob.

Me: Thank you.

Minutes later I hear a loud sigh and Mike gets up from his desk and walks to the bathroom. I then hear a little tap of his shoe against the ceiling. He comes back to my desk.

Mike: There. Now you can't get uromysitisis and blame me.

So I dash in there and of course I don't double check before I go in because, well, I trust my husband, and as I'm washing my hands I look up and IT'S GUTS ARE DANGLING FROM THE CEILING. Seriously. Just dangling over the doorway waiting to drop on me. And everyone knows that once you get the scent of the creature, all it's buddies will come looking for you to exact revenge for killing one of their own. Great. Once again I am faced with the decision to permanently move in to the office bathroom or tempt fate a second time. You know, Stephanie Tanner moved into the family bathroom on an episode of Full House once. It didn't look so bad. But then again she grew up to be a drug addict.

So I chanced it...again...

I think I made it out unharmed. I walked up to Mike's desk with my hands on my hips and you know what he did? He laughed. Oh he's so funny. So I rubbed my head on his shirt to spread the scent on him. If I go down, he's going down with me.

Possibly Offensive Post, Though Not Intended

I am about to say something that could be considered morally or politically incorrect. *Warning. Warning.* I don't mean it to be incorrect or offensive though.

Breast Cancer has given me two great things this week.

1. Pink Shoes on linebackers
2. A giant chocolate chip cookie for only $2.00

I guess I should say Breast Cancer Awareness. That sounds better.

Correction: Breast Cancer Awareness has given me two great things this week.

I could go back up and edit the start of this post to say "Awareness" but I'm not going to. Because I'm lazy like that.

Oh yeah, something else it gave me: a cute story to share about Mike. On Sunday he was kind of offended about the whole Breast Cancer Awareness thing and said "How come Breast Cancer gets a month? Why doesn't Prostate Cancer?" And I said "Dude, men can get Breast Cancer too." And he's all "Ohhhh, right" and then happily continued eating his cookie. Like he was glad he could get Breast Cancer. What an optimist.

Disney Totally Ripped Off Toblerone

Ghost update: Mike and I thought a ghost had visited us last night. Turns out it was just our upstairs neighbor on speakerphone.

Since Halloween is the scariest of all months, except maybe March - that whole "in like a lion, out like a lamb" thing always makes me nervous - I will post scary things that happen.

Do you hear what I'm promising? I will be alone for a couple weeks and have a great sense of hearing and a high-functioning imagination. This could be good. You're welcome in advance.

Here are some thoughts I have today:
1. I don't like when people use nicknames for their husbands or children on blogs. Unless it's an awesome nickname, like "Worst Mistake I Ever Made" or "Idiot" or "Dingledork."

2. Someone should make a documentary about copy guys. They really love their jobs. At least, the two copy guys that fix our office machine do. They also think they are super funny. And usually try to use their knowledge of copy machine parts to hit on my coworkers. I think it would make for a good movie.

3. There's this board on the game Peggle that really bums me out. It has a pirate ship in the background and all the pegs are square. It just puts me in a bad mood. I always quit when I get to that level and restart hoping it won't come up again. Dingledork knows which level I'm talking about.

4. There is a bear and a fish hidden in the Toblerone logo. Except the bear is afraid of the fish. It's like the fish jumped out of the water and totally took the bear by surprise. Hope the other bears weren't watching, otherwise he'll be labeled a weenie. And the lady bears will stop coming around. He'll probably have to join a different pack of bears, but you know how bears gossip so they will probably already know about this and not let him in. So he will have to find two other reject bears and live in a house and complain about porridge all day. It's kind of awesome really.

5. I looked up the word sluiced in the dictionary today. I've read it quite a few times but never knew what it meant. Now I can't get it out of head. I want to use it in a conversation.

That's it. Insert clever ending here.

Update

I just found out that the hospital-turned-insane-asylum-turned-hotel-turned-jackpot is closed for renovations. The hell?

Stayed tuned though. I am determined to find something scary that I will totally regret come action time.

Just Another Ordinary Weekend

Moving, moving. Slowly moving.
Boxes are filled but nothing is packed.

*Hey, is that a haiku?

We're starting to work out the details of the move. Hopefully we will leave October 31st and be home November 1st. And I have 2 important things to tell you:

1. I found a haunted hotel in LeGrande, OR
2. Mike says we can take the route through Portland

Which means Powell's Books and a scary Halloween

Which means Emily salivating over hundreds of books and being too scared to get out of the car

Which means Mike apologizing to security and carrying Emily into the hotel

Which means Emily getting her picture posted in Powell's and crying to the bellhop

Which means Mike becoming an accessory and enjoying scaring the crap out of Emily

Which means Emily reading Jane Austen by flashlight and spending the night in the car



All in all, looks like a great weekend!