This place is a tomb. I'm going to the nut shop where it's fun.

When I was a kid, I read all the time. Like, ALL THE TIME. A few months ago, my mom was telling me a story about how she was in a waiting room, quite obviously deeply involved with her book (dirty), and someone wouldn't stop trying to have a conversation with her. I was all, "MOM. You used to do that to me all the time!" and she was like, "Well, JENNIE, if I didn't talk to you while you were reading, I'D NEVER HAVE GOTTEN TO TALK TO YOU," because that's how much I read, you guys. TRUTH.

Anyway, I also had this problem in that I thought everything I read was true. I mean, I think I knew that I couldn't really travel to Narnia through a wardrobe and that Ramona Quimby (age 8) was not actually a real person. It was more like I wanted the real world to be more like books, all the time. I wanted to write to Mr. Henshaw and I wanted to run around with Maniac McGee and I dearly, dearly wanted to go to Wayside School, even though it was falling down.

Mostly, though, I wanted to be in The Baby-sitters Club. I went back and forth between which character I wanted to be. Sometimes it was Claudia, with her "keen" fashion sense, but I didn't want to have her mean sister. I did try that thing she did, where she hid food all over her room so she could have fun snacks any time she wanted, but it turns out if you do that in real life, your parents catch you and get mad at you because when they asked you where all the snacks were going, you told them your sister was probably eating them and that, my friends, is called lying and I guess parents don't really like lying or something. But I digress.

Sometimes I wanted to be Mary Anne, but I was already desperately shy and bookish, so that was no good. And sometimes I wanted to be Stacey, but not really because man, she was a Grade-A beeyotch if there ever was one, right? Mostly, I wanted to be Dawn, but only because of her beautiful, long hair and the fact that she lived in a house with SECRET PASSAGEWAYS. I knew our house wasn't anywhere near as old as Dawn's house, but that didn't stop me from searching for secret tunnels in the basement.

But the Club sounded fun, no matter which member you were. Probably because there was absolutely no adult supervision and parents had no problem sending ALL the neighborhood kids off on adventures with 13-year-olds, like remember that one time they all got shipwrecked on an island? I mean, they weren't there long enough for it to get all Lord of the Flies, but still...who sends their kid off on a boat with a 13-YEAR-OLD?!

Unfortunately, I didn't have a boat, but I still thought I'd be a good member. Screw that Red Cross Baby-sitting class I took, I learned way more from The Baby-sitters Club. True story. OK, not really, but they did have those super awesome Kid Kits, full of all sorts of fun stuff to keep little ones occupied. I COVETED those Kid Kits, which I know is a sin or something but there are worse sins so just be glad I'm not out there murdering people or building shrines to the Flying Spaghetti Monster or whatever.

I still sometimes wish that real life was more like books. Less work, more play. Adventures that last pages and pages. Kid Kits. But last night, as I was getting my bag ready for volunteering, I rummaged through some of the stuff I'd collected for it. Stickers. Markers. Play-Doh. Bubbles. And wouldn't you know it? It turns out I'd made my very own Kid Kit, albeit about 15 years late. Maybe this real life thing isn't so bad after all.

this morning I hit myself in the face with my car door

Yesterday morning, I woke up to my cell phone vibrating away on my nightstand. Weird, I thought, I wonder what that's all about. Then I realized that OH someone was calling me. Really early. I squinted at the phone and saw it was one of my parents calling. OH NO OH NO OH NO, my brain screamed, because NOT ONLY do my parents never call me in the morning, but my grandma is having surgery ON HER BRAIN today. I almost didn't want to pick up the phone, because everyone knows if you just ignore problems or bad things they go away forever.

Me: Hello?
Mom: Hi, Jen, NOTHING'S WRONG DON'T WORRY.
Me: Jesus.
Mom: Did you know Joe's dad is on the news?
Me: ...what?
Mom: Joe's dad. He's on the news with his barbershop quartet.
Me: Oh, yeah. He told me.
Mom: ...I thought you might be watching it.
Me: No.
Mom: ...
Me: I'm gonna go back to sleep now.
Mom: OK!

Geez, Mom. Give a girl a heart attack, why don't you? So, yes, my grandma is having brain surgery today. I don't think it's SUPER SUPER serious, and it's similar to the one she had last year, but it's a bit more invasive and, you know, they're poking around in her brain. That never seems quite right to me. Anyway, my point is, please think good thoughts today. That is all. I hope everyone is having a super Thursday. I keep thinking it's Friday. That has happened to me every day this week since TUESDAY. I blame the groundhog BECAUSE I CAN.

liveblogging the election: I am obnoxious

Conversations with my mother: email edition

Me: Are you aware that both of your daughters voted for Obama today?
Mom: Yes, I feel SOOO honored.
Me: You should! Was the line at your precinct long?
Mom: Yeah! Your dad and I waited an hour first thing this AM and the precinct across from my work is CRAZY!
Me: That’s insane. Heidi voted early on Saturday and waited for four hours. I thought that’d mean that today wouldn’t be as busy but I guess not!
Mom: Nope, that’s kind of what I thought too but it is not proving to be true! Have you voted yet?
Me: Yeah, I took my lunch early and went around 11. It was really busy there, but my precinct must be one of the smaller ones because there wasn’t much of a line.
Mom: Well, good, I guess! Even though you voted for Obama.
Me: I couldn’t vote for McCain in case he dies. Palin scares me.
Mom: Really, and Biden doesn’t?
Me: Nope. I want Palin to stay out of my uterus and my business.
Mom: No, kiddo, tell me how you REALLY feel!
Me: I don’t like her. The end. Heidi and I made chili for tonight. It’s a healthy recipe that we’re making in the crock pot. I’ll let you know how it turns out.
Mom: Okay, if it's good, you are REQUIRED to share the recipe!
Me: Well, I know you use ground turkey, and black beans instead of kidney beans, and those green chile things. And some other stuff, too.
Mom: That is so helpful dear!
Me: What, you need more details?
Mom: Ya think!?!?!

More details: here.

Coyote Update

Don't worry, no one has been eaten by a coyote. YET. But now my mom is trying to convince me to keep it as a pet. See chain of emails HERE:

Me: Did I tell you there's a coyote over by the pond by our apartment?
Mom: I read your blog. That is cool, we have them here sometimes. They LOVE dog food by the way. May want to keep some close to the front door and grab a handful each time you head outside "just in case."
Me: Mom, are you encouraging me to feed a WILD ANIMAL? Then it will never leave! And it might eat Phoebe!
Mom: And the flaw in that plan would be?! Then you could sort of have a dog!
Me: Yeah, a dog that might eat my face!
Mom: Oh, there are always challenges with being pet owners.
Me: I'm putting this on my blog.

No time! There's never any time! I don't have time to study! I'll never get into Stanford!

I called my mom yesterday after work because I'd been informed that it'd been FOREVER since she'd spoken to me. FOREVER. Even though I was at home less than two weeks ago for her birthday and I saw her THE VERY NEXT DAY at my grandma's. So, for those counting, FOREVER = about a week and a half (I love you, Mom).

When I talked to her, she was all, "your dad and I figured you were busy," and I said, "oh?" and she said, "yeah, because you never update your blog anymore," and I was all, "yeah, cause they expect me to do actual work at work now PSHAW WHATEVER I DO WHAT I WANT." And then she was like, "you should come over because I have a bunch of kitchen crap you can have." I wonder if there'll be a day when, instead of taking leftover crap that no one wants anymore, I will be the one giving someone leftover crap that I don't want anymore. The day has to come, I think. It's the circle of crap.

I KNOW I've been neglecting you, dear Internets. I'm sorry. Summer is the time for doing stuff, right? And so I've been doing stuff. Stuff like almost killing myself with a guitar and trying to figure out a way to become a runner without actually, you know, running. Also, I've become obsessed with grape soda THROUGH NO FAULT OF MY OWN. Joe suggested we go to Potbelly a couple of weeks ago and I was all, "hmm, they have grape soda . . . I shall try it." And I tried it. And it was good. And then I kept suggesting we go back to Potbelly JUST so I could get more grape soda and then I bought grape soda at Meijer and now I want to drink it all the time, but I'm afraid my teeth might fall out.

Every time I drink it (or, let's face it, talk about it), I have to preface it with, "MMM, GRAPE SO-DA." My friend Nancy once came to a sorority function completely obliterated out of her mind (in the middle of the afternoon, I might add . . . those were the days) and proceeded to pour herself the biggest cup of grape soda known to mankind and womankind and, I don't know, duck-kind. She stuck her gum to the rim, then picked it back up, dipped it in the grape soda, stuck it in her mouth, and shouted, "MMM, GRAPE SO-DA." And then repeated this scenario for the next hour. We knew she was quoting something, but it took us the majority of the night to realize she was quoting Saved by the Bell. Saved by the Bell is sort of like Friends, in that anything that ever happens to you in life can be connected to an episode. True story. For instance, guess what episode was on the other day?

"I'm so excited! I'm so excited! I'm so . . . so SCAAAAARED." It was just like that time I got addicted to caffeine pills because I had a geometry test and my friends and I were in a girl band and I wanted to get into Stanford.