Workage

You know you've been at the same job too long when you start entering your work e-mail address on Web sites where you should enter your normal one... I've been working at the same place for a year and four months, which is a long time in my opinion. Especially considering the longest I’ve ever held a job is two years, but that job was only part-time. So really, in Heather time, I’ve been working here for more like two years and eight months. No wonder I feel like I’ve been here forever.

Friday Friday (bah-dahhhh, bah-dah-dah-dah)

This is what my Friday night has come to. I am wrapped in a blanket on our futon, Amoxicillin in hand, with the extended edition of "Return Of The King" in the DVD player. Strep throat has rendered me contagious and I couldn't go to the church retreat that I'd been looking forward to for a month. Thus I sit, accompanied only by Frederick the chinchilla. Mark did go on the retreat, and I'm facing the first night of our married life without him. I hope I can sleep.

But enough of this pity party! I have made an album of our wedding pictures and posted them here: http://picasaweb.google.com/hbombterryaki/WeddingPictures#

I'd invite you over, but I don't have enough Amoxicillin to go around.

Alarming

I'm in a war with my alarm clock. Every morning it goes off at 6 a.m., and I snooze it until 6:30. This means I hit snooze every five minutes until 6:30 (sorry Mark... although, you are supposed to be getting up earlier than I am, but you never do!) At 6:30, I debate whether I should style my hair or just put it up. Putting it up means I don't have to get out of bed until 6:45. At this point, I carefully examine the clock and make sure it hasn't gone off an hour or two early. Though this has never happened before, I refuse to give up hope. Precedent doesnt faze me. Or maybe I just expect different results but never change my actions? I think that's the definition of insanity.

Bringer of bad news?

Have you ever noticed that negativity loves company? I am certainly not immune. Due to our lack of Internet at our apartment (and our staunch refusal to sign up), Mark and I usually spend at least an hour on Saturdays at Voxx Coffee, a local spot on Eastlake. Voxx offers free wireless Internet and excellent coffee (Stumptown), and we use our time to catch up on news and blogs (and Facebook). For some reason, whenever I come across a sad/morbid story, I feel compelled to share it with Mark. I have been known to begin conversations with “Ohh, do you want to hear a sad story?” Mark will then say one of two things: “Do I have a choice?” or “Sure…” Well Mark, here is my resolution. I refuse to share negative stories that do not somewhat concern us. Of course, I’m not saying we should turn a blind eye to the hardships of the world, but I don’t want to be the harbinger of unnecessary depressing anecdotes. We’re surrounded by too much negativity in the first place to go about finding it ourselves!

Baseball for the newbies

They say that you have truly learned something when you can teach it to others. I grew up around baseball, and I thought I understood the game well enough to explain it until I went to a Mariners game with a group of middle school students and sat next to a boy who had only been to one baseball game in his entire life. I spent the last three innings of the game (we were very late… long story) trying to explain to him what strikes, outs and innings were. Throughout our discussion, I kept noticing how many exceptions there are to the game. I’d spend a couple of minutes explaining a rule and then a play would occur that blasted the rule out of the water. For example, one of the players hit a home run. “Look Peter, he just hit the ball out of the field into the stands! That’s called a home run.” Of course, two minutes later, the next batter hit a foul ball. Naturally, Peter got excited and thought it was a home run, so I had to back up and say, “Well actually, see those yellow posts over there? If you hit it in between them, it’s called a foul ball so it doesn’t count and you’re up to bat again…” The game was just full of these! Oh and did I mention that Peter’s first language is Mandarin? I never would have thought that baseball could teach me so much about cross-cultural communication, or maybe just communication in general. Peter and I bonded over that game, and when the last out was called, he was just as excited as I was that the Mariners had won. On the way back to the church, he couldn’t stop talking about how great baseball was and how he wanted to go to another game. I was just glad that my inadequate descriptions had somehow made sense. I was sure exhausted afterward though… I don’t know how teachers do it.

We're gettin' outta Dodge...

Mark and I are visiting Colorado during President’s Day weekend and can’t wait to see everyone! The only problem with visiting good ol’ CO is that I never know how to pack. The weather could go from a blizzard to 70 degrees in two days. You just never know. I usually end up taking at least four pairs of shoes... and some slippers. Mark always wonders why my suitcase is so heavy…