Why aren't you wearing pants?

These are all true phone conversations I have had with my sister in the course of a Friday evening. 

Her: “Do you want to go to Winco with me?”

Me: “Uh, no.”

Her: “You know the crossdresser on the corner by McDonald’s?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Her: “He got a new dress. It has sequins and sparkles. And there’s a slit that comes up the side.”

Me: “Are you telling me this because you want a dress like it?”

Her: “No.”

Her: “I’m coming up the driveway and I hafta pee! Unlock the door!”

Me: “Hang on, I don’t have any pants on.”

Her: “Why aren’t you wearing pants?”

Me: “Because it was hot.”

Her: “Do you want to do something tomorrow?”

Me: “Like what?”

Her: “You could come to the dump with me.”

Bread Butts

Brittany: I have this thing about eating English muffins. I think it's awkward.

Me: English muffins are awkward?

Brittany: Yeah. Because it's like eating two butts of the bread, and I don't really like the butt of bread, so why would I want to eat two of them?

Me: Good point. But they taste different. I can see your reasoning, though.

What are your thoughts on this type of muffin?

Phone Convo between J and N

Last week in the Willamette Valley we experienced some psychotic spring weather, which included a thick blanket of snow. Natalie and I had a phone conversation about it.

J: My lawn is covered in snow. And you know what's funny? I was totally going to cut the grass today. Well, at least I was thinking about it last night. I'm pretty sure God doesn't want me to mow the lawn though, because if he did, he wouldn't have made it snow.

N: I'm also pretty sure God wants you to buy a Cricut machine*. You know, so we can craft excellent things together.

*In case you didn't know, a Cricut is a very expensive crafter's dream. It's a glorified electric die cutter and makes tedious cutting less boring. Martha Stewart wanted to take her Cricut with her to prison so she could teach the inmates how to make beautiful cards and decorations, but she couldn't get it past the prison guard. Now that she's out of the slammer, she using her Cricut daily, die cutting fake money.

Family Secrets and Funny Conversations

It may surprise you to know that my Aunt Brenda, who is about 48 years young and in top shape, had a heart attack last year because she ate too many Cheetos. These are the sorts of things I discover while on female family vacations.

This was the second year the girls on my mom's side of the family went to a beach house for a weekend full of laughter, games, and secrets. I am really amazed at the sorts of things I discover about my relatives during these summers.

Aunt Brenda's confession of The Cheeto Incident came out while we were playing cards one evening. She had brought a bag of the fluffy orange stuff and was sharing them with us. I absolutely adore Cheetos because my mother would never buy them for me as a child, since she considered unnaturally orange powdered balls of crisp unhealthy and not part of a nutritious diet. I could tell by the number of hand reaches that my Aunt Brenda and I were the ones who love Cheetos the most.

My mom and Gram were looking over family tree/geneology records when Brenda says, "Did I ever tell you about the time I thought I had a Cheeto heart attack?"

"No, you didn't," I say. Nobody else has heard the story either, including Gram, who is Aunt Brenda's own mother. I don't know about you, but if I survived a supposed Cheeto induced heart attack, I would call my mom the next day and tell her of my close encounter. Or maybe I wouldn't, on account of how my mother does not approve of me eating Cheetos.

Aunt Bren launches into the story, telling us of how this one time she was on vacation and ate an entire bag of Cheetos within an hour. Next thing she knows, she feels like she can't breathe, her heart hurts, and she panics. Her friend calls 911 and an ambulance picks her up and takes her to the hospital. After some preliminary tests, the doctor tells her she didn't have a heart attack. "Oh, thank goodness," she says. "But what is wrong with me?" The doc asks her what she has eaten in the past 48 hours. Brenda lists off some margaritas, chocolate cake, french fries, donuts, a few beers, pancakes with syrup, fried chicken, and an entire bag of Cheetos.
"I would lay off the fatty foods if I were you," the doctor advises.
"But it's not like I eat this stuff all the time!" Brenda wails. "I'm on vacation. The whole point of it is to eat a lot of crap and have a good time."
In the end, Aunt Brenda had to pay for her ambulance ride to the hospital for her fake Cheeto-Induced heart attack.
"Where were you on vacation at?" I ask at the end of the story.
"Las Vegas."

****

I've never really asked my grandma about how things were like when she was a child. I remember my mom telling me how grandma used to have to take cold baths in a tank in the living room of her homestead, and I felt like checking the facts with the actual source. We were preparing dinner one night when I said, "Grandma, when you were a kid, did you have electricity?"

She told me of how they didn't when she and her brother Dexter were small, but then they got lights when she was about eleven years old, which was not in 1892, like I had previously thought. Kidding about that. I've never thought of my grandma as old. She's in really good shape and is more active than I am. She'll probably live to be one-hundred and twenty.

"We had to go to the bathroom in the outhouse. We didn't have toilet paper then, we used catalogs. Were were in the tulies, you know. When we went to school or to restaurants they had toilet paper. It was just that if you lived in the sticks, you didn't have it on a daily basis." 

During the discussion of Gram's childhood, I learn that Grandpa Pitman never went to high school. His family couldn't afford it because they needed him to work. So he went to the mill and later became a logger. 

While on the topic of the generations before us, (and with the fat binder of records Gram has with her) I learn another family secret. Gram tells us that she is pretty sure the whole family has been lied to regarding the parents of my great-great grandpa. We've always been told/thought that he was an orphan and all his papers burned in an orphanage fire, thus leaving a gaping mystery in the ethnicity of that line. The beginnings of my grandma's side of the family came from French-Canada, and it was rumored that great-great-grandpa Pitman was part Native Alaskan (Inuit). Turns out this could all be lies, because the family used the whole orphan thing  as a cover up since my great-great-grandpa was the result of a scandal. He was actually raised by his grandma or aunt or something because his mother was unwed. Regardless of whether or not he was truly an orphan or if it was just a lie for cover up, the lineage there is a mystery and it has left me especially with a gaping hole of my heritage, because my eyes don't look anyone else's in the family except for my Great Grandpa Pitman's. And God knows where his father came from. Maybe I really am part Chinese like all those kids in elementary school thought. 

The serious nature of this family lie turns to the subject of socks and fashion.

Gram says, "When I was a teenager, we used to take large amounts of toilet paper and wad them up under our socks and roll them over. In those days, the bigger the roll the better!" Mostly I'm just glad to hear she was able to use toilet paper by her teenage years. 

She continues to tell us about her exciting days of youth.

"Back in those days the Grange Hall was a very popular thing. Every weekend we would go dancing, or sometimes they had roller skating."

"Did you skate, Gram?"

"I burned up the floor!" she replies.

***

At breakfast Sunday morning I recounted my dreams to everyone. I dreamed that I had to substitute as a high school math teacher, only the kids starting getting out of control. This was a stressful yet incredibly boring dream, compared to my aunt.
"Last night I dreamed I could breathe under water," says Aunt Brenda.
"Like a zombie?" asks Aunt Bink.
"Or a vampire?" I say.
"Or maybe like a mermaid?" my mom says.
Pause
Then Gram says, "Or...like...Kevin Costner?"
"Huh?" We're all completely stumped. A lot of things that Gram says puzzles us, but this one tops them all.
"You know, from the movie Waterworld," she explains.
"Ohhhhh."
then we proceed to bust into rib shattering laughter

***

One our favorite games is our family created version of Things. Creating the list beforehand is just as fun as playing the actual game. How you play is everyone writes down an answer to go with the question, (for example, Things That Aunt Bink Would Never Wear), and then the reader reads the answers and we go in a circle taking turns guessing who wrote what.

We were on the category of "Things Gram Has Run Over in Her Car This Year," when this conversation ensued:
Gram was tapping her pen when she laughed and said "Oh, I have to think about this!" Because apparently Gram runs over a lot of things and has trouble remembering all of them. She only needed to pick one thing to write down, though.

The rest of us giggle at Gram for not remembering, when I say "What sound did it make?" This launches Aunt Brenda into her erupting laugh which you can hear from a mile away. Then Brenda says "I wouldn't worry about it as long as it didn't say 'help'!" This sends us into a whole other round of laughter. Finally the reader collected everyone's answer and began to read them off so we could guess.
"Answers are...curbs...the curb...the center line...the curb...the curb at Fred Meyer's...curbs."

The fact that everyone basically said the same thing makes us laugh so hard we can hardly breathe. I wouldn't know from personal experience, but it could be laughter more dangerous than a Cheeto heart-attack.

My other favorite category from the game of Things was another question about Gram. The category was "Things that Gram keeps in the trunk of her car." Answers included things like gloves, extra gloves, a porcupine carcass from the side of the road, wading pants, buckets, and gloves. We laughed a lot when the answers were read, but when the reader got to "wading pants" a special look came over my grandma's face, like "Wow, that's a good idea, I wish I had those in my trunk." I was the one who wrote down wading pants, because I was reflecting upon my spring break trip to Gram's where we went rock hounding at the river, and Grandma was trying to get me to wear Leon's wading pants that he uses for fishing.

***

Just to make you even more jealous of my wonderful family, I will list off all the glorious activities we enjoyed during our stay:

• Beach Walking and Rock Collecting
• Playing Clue
• Ping Pong Tournament
• Eating (esp. lunch at McMenamin's where we learned of TWO family secrets I cannot share with you, and when Aunt Brenda made Grandma's Noodles, which are fattingly delicious).
• Necklace Beading
• Geneology/History stories and pictures
• Contests to win the privilege of wearing The Breakfast Beads (Mardi Gras beads that Brenda brought). Contests included estimating the time when my sister would actually arrive in the evening (9:45pm) and who could complete their 100 piece puzzle the fastest. 
• The Game of Things
• Yahtzee (I won!)
• Sorry
• Eating pizza
• Making homemade ice cream in this really ancient wooden mixer

I can't wait for next year : )

roommate interviews

Now that you know I'm unemployed, you may realize the importance of me finding two roommates to fill up my house so that I can pay my mortgage. I posted an ad on Craigslist about three weeks ago, and I received several e-mails from interested persons.

I was very happy that everyone who messaged me had good spelling and punctuation. You know how I judge that sort of thing. 

One of them was all "I'm male, but other than that, I think I fulfill all of your requirements." I'm sorry, but if you are male, then you fail 99% of my requirements. I want to be able to walk around in my underwear on Saturday mornings if I feel like it (not that I ever do this, but still). And okay, the guy was a third year medical student, and he had an Asian sounding last name, which gave me a 36% chance of being able to learn martial arts from him, which would be cool. But I didn't want a man (especially a stranger--if it were actually someone I already knew, I might have considered it) living in my house. 

I'm going to give you the run-down of how a roommate interview may have gone. I've met two people in person, and have been chatting with five others via e-mail. You don't want to hear about each individual, nor do I want to write about each one, so here is the generalized picture:

Scene: Starbucks, six o'clock, Thursday night.

Me: You must be (insert candidate's name here). I'm Joelle.

Candidate: Hi, nice to meet you. Let me tell you about myself. I am 23 years old, I graduated from XYZ University, and now I work at LMNOP. I really like rock climbing and scrap booking.

Me: Oh, wow. How diverse. I've always wanted to go rock climbing. Let me tell you about myself. I really like people but don't hang out with them a lot on account of how I am sort of shy, plus, after I mention that I really like spy/agent/detective/undercover stuff, people get really wary of me and try to hide all their dirty secrets. I like writing and I subscribe to more blogs than I can read. I like baking cupcakes. My right knee cap has dislocated more than 256 times (NOT LYING), so I never run or play sports that involve balls that are larger than ping pong sized, but I like to do kickboxing...So what sort of questions do you have for me?

Candidate: How much is rent again?

Me: As much as you can stand to pay. I just quit my job and am looking for others to pay my bills.

Candidate: Oh.

Me: But utilities are included!
 
Candidate: What is your policy on pets?

Me: Well, I have a pet rabbit named Roo, but he lives outside, except for when I bring him in to play. Are you hoping to get a pet soon?

Candidate: Well, maybe a fish. I find aquariums very relaxing.

Me: Oh, that's fine. I just don't want anything that will make my house smell.

Candidate: I have asthma, so I totally understand.

Me: Okay, so I have determined that thus far, you are not a creeper. I checked as much as I could on Facebook, then I Googled you and nothing dirty came up, so you're golden. Would you like to go look at the house?

Candidate: Excellent.


Scene: My House, six-thirty, Thursday night.

Me: So this is the living room.

Candidate: Wow! It's really spacious!

Me: I know, right? I throw a lot of crazy parties here every weekend...Over here is the kitchen.

Candidate: Cute. So what's your policy on food?

Me: Ah, well with all the other girls who lived here, we kept our food separate and each had our own cupboard for food. I'm a vegetarian so I really don't share food/cook for others.

Candidate: Oh. So like...is it okay to keep meat in the house?

Me: (laughing) Definitely. You can cook meat and eat it and store it in the freezer, I'm not a freak like that. I just don't want to find blood in the sink or fur in the garbage.

Candidate: Okay, I think that will work. I've been trying to eat healthier, so maybe living with a vegetarian will help with that.

Me: I doubt it. I mostly microwave frozen vegetables and eat yogurt. Plus, you know, chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream for calcium...So down the hallway is the bathroom, which you will share with whoever else I pick. These are the two bedrooms I have available. They are basically exactly the same, except this one has a view of a fence and a tree, and that one has a view of a fence and the side of the neighbor's house (but no windows, so you can totally be in the nude!)

Candidate: The rooms are a little smaller than I'd like.

Me: Don't even worry about it. When my best friend Natalie lived here, she had a queen sized bed, a bookshelf, a nightstand, a dresser, a desk, a parrot cage, a large shoe collection, a mini treadmill, and a fold up slip-and-slide in here. The space is actually much bigger than it seems.

Candidate: Cool.

Me: Do you want to meet my rabbit, Roo?

Candidate: Sure.

Me: He's outside near the patio.

Candidate: Oh, he is so cute! Can I hold him?

Me: Sure. But he does have claws; I don't want you to get scratched.

Candidate: I'll pull my sleeves down....Oh, he seems really scared. Maybe you should take him back from me.

Me: Don't worry about it. He always breathes like he's about to have a heart attack. Rabbits just have a fast heart beat--like hummingbirds.

Candidate: Here you go, I think he fainted.

Me: So do you have any other questions about me or the house?

Candidate: No, I don't think so. I really like it. I won't be able to move in until mid-August though, is that okay?

Me: Since I like you so much, that could work for me.

Candidate: Awesome. Well, I am supposed to look at another place this weekend, so can I let you know by next Tuesday?

Me: Yep, sure. But before you leave, could you take this cup into the bathroom so I could get a urine sample from you? I don't want any druggies living in my house.

*****

The interactions I have had with the candidates haven't gone exactly like this, but some of it really has. Like, this one girl was really afraid I wouldn't allow her to have any meat in the kitchen at all. You get the general picture. I probably won't know until the end of August who will be for surely living with me, but when they move in I'll let you know who I picked.

Adventures with Gram

For some reason the draft of this post got forgotten about, and I am just now publishing it. It was from the first part of April, so whoops. But I swear to you, you're gonna love this.

My cousin Grace and I went to visit our Gram during spring break last month. I came back two pounds heavier because of all the food she made me eat, but my abs were also sore due to the side-splitting laughter that ensued every fifteen minutes. I've documented some of the conversations for your entertainment. 


While looking at some of the little rocks Gram keeps in a fancy dish on the table
Grace: Hey Gramma, I remembered to bring you a hand lens (to look at rocks with).
Gram: Oh you did! Then I will share my dental picks with you.
Grace and I look at Gram and pause. Because you know,when someone offers to share their dental hygiene materials with you, there's not a lot you can say.
Gram: They're for cleaning rocks.
Oh, it all makes sense now. Sort of.

The first night that Grace and I were there, we made a list of all the things we wanted to do during our stay. Authentic rock-hounding was out of the picture, as the weather was still way too wet. We didn't want Gram's Jeep to get stuck in the mud while we were off-roading, because Leon (Gram's hubby) already said he wouldn't come save us.
Gram: Okay, well let's see. We can climb Smith Rock.
I add it to the list because I am the record keeper.
Gram: And did you girls want to go see Great Grandpa Pitman?
Grace: Yes.
I add it to the list.
Gram: We could go to the Prineville Forestry Center. They have a real nice case of rocks...
Grace and I lift our eyebrows at each other.
Me: That we could steal?
Gram: Heavens no! To look at!
Me: Good point. I left most of my disguises at home.

My 70 year old grandmother kicked my butt hiking up. She'd climb Smith Rock every day if she had someone to go with her, which is the exact reason I limited my stay to three days.

Here's Gram, Grace, and me in front of Monkey Face. I swear my legs are not as short as they look. It's because our photographer was standing on a hill. I am fully five feet tall.

Later, as we were driving back from our long day at Smith Rock, Gram (who is driving) turns to me and says, "I want you girls to sign the back of our parking pass so I can keep the memento with my box of grandchild adventures." She points to the parking pass that is placed on my side of the dash. I try to reach it but can't since my arms are too short and I'm still buckled up. I figure I'll grab the slip when we park. Gram is at the wheel and she is too impatient for me. While driving, she reaches over towards me, starts to unbuckle herself and says "Oh here, let me get it." I make a terrified expression because at the very beginning of the day Gram told me and Grace that she wasn't going to talk to us very much because she needed to concentrate on her driving (which was true). A second later Gram bursts into laughter and says "Haha! Gotchyou!" She was playing a trick on me. "You should have seen your face! You really thought I was going to do that!" Grace, who is in the back seat, starts to chuckle, and I laugh a bit as well, but part of me still thinks she was seriously going to unbuckle herself while driving and reach for the paper. I think that once she saw my face she just passed it off as a joke. I'm not really sure. But she about died laughing, which caused a bit of swervature in her driving anyway. Good thing we were on the gravel road near her house.

The second day we drove into Prineville. On our way there, Gram points down a remote road. It looks like the sort of place you might go to try a shortcut, but you'll end up thirsty and dying in the desert while rattlesnakes and scorpions poison you instead.
Gram: Did you know Facebook moved out here to the tulies?
Grace is in the front seat and she turns to look at me. We both are surprised because why would Gram know about Facebook? And why in the world would they move to the middle of no-where central Oregon? Surely Gram must not know what she's talking about. Grace plays it off carefully to test Gram's knowledge.
Grace: What's Facebook?
Gram: (peels of laughter plus a snort) Facebook! Surely you girls know what Facebook is!
Grace: But I thought they were located in California. Why would they move here?
Gram: Cheap land? I don't know. But I guess all the people who work there are hip city people who live in Portland and commute.
Me: They drive three hours to work everyday? And then go home?
Gram: I think they stay in a hotel during the week and then go home on the weekends. They're city people, you know? It's hard for them to be out here.
Grace and I ponder a bit more and discuss, but neither one of us really believes the Facebook is moving out to the boondocks.

We got to the pioneer museum, which is located inside an old bank building. I kid you not, on the front of the museum door is a blue flier that reads "Welcome Facebook!" So it has to be true. Grandma is a lot more up-to-date with the world than I thought.

We looked at all of the old-timey stuff that the museum had. When we got upstairs, there was a medical room. It had really terrifying things like a metal cervical dilator. Basically, the medical room supplied all the props needed to film a horror movie targeted at women.

Sorry the picture is blurry, but I was shaking with fear.

This is a vaginal spectrum AKA the most horrifying thing you could ever imagine! Also, another reason to keep your legs clamped shut.

We later went back downstairs and broke into the vault, but the money was already gone.


We stopped at a gas station and Gram bought Grace and me Megabucks tickets. She said that we had to win so that we could take care of her in her old age. After that we had to stop at Safeway for a few things, and Gram backed her Jeep up into a parking spot. Grace and I didn't have to get out to know the vehicle was straddling the white line and hogging two spaces. "Uh, Gram, do you think maybe you should try that again?" But what she does is kind of chuckle and say, "Oh, if they just get a look at me they'll understand!" So what Grace and I do is sort of walk out of the parking lot real fast so that no one can see which vehicle we came from.

Grace captured the evidence on camera.

Later we went to visit my great-grandpa, who is 92 years old. He lives with his wife in a manufactured home community for old people. All the curbs along the sidewalks are sloping, so that way the old people can get their walkers and wheelchairs up easily. It also means it's a lot easier for a car to drive up onto the sidewalk by accident. But it's not like that happened.

As we were pulling into his driveway, my grandma was telling me how a lot of the  land adjacent to his property used to just be barren fields, and my great-grandpa liked to go out with his rifle and shoot rock chucks for sport. I told her that I remembered when it was like that, because my family had visited Grandpa Pitman when he first moved to central Oregon. Gram continued, "Then the housing development came in and spoiled his fun. Now he has to be sneaky and shoot rock chucks out the bathroom window."

This is what a rock chuck looks like. Before Gramps gets to it.

We visited with my Great-Gramps, who was of course wearing his favorite purple western style shirt with black suspenders. I thought I had a picture of it, but I guess not.

This photo is from his birthday two years ago, but I'm pretty sure those are the same suspenders he always wears. That's my Gram (his daughter) standing next to him.

We hugged Grandpa Pitman good-bye and went home to Gram's house. On the way, Gram told us how she worried about Grandpa, because he still thinks he can do whatever he wants. For example, at 92 years old, he recently climbed a ladder to trim a branch of a tree, even though Gram said she'd do it for him. He likes to be independent though. I just hope he doesn't hurt himself.

Our last adventure was driving up to the reservoir so we could dig for rocks. Unfortunately, we didn't find much because the water was up so high. All I ended up finding were two action figures who had their faces buried in the dirt. I rescued them and brought them home. I am pretty sure one of them was meant to be Hulk Hogan. Since we didn't get to go bonafied rock-hounding during spring break, I am hoping to get back over there sometime this summer so that I can spend more time with Gram and dig for precious rocks.

Rottstiff or Mastweiler?

I present to you a Saturday evening phone conversation with my sister, Jessamy. We talk about a lot of important things.

Me: Hey. What are you doing right now?
Jess: Watching Animal Hoarders. This woman has 97 dogs.
Me: 97 dogs?!
Jess: Yeah. And she keeps them all inside her trailer. But they're small dogs.
Me: Because that makes it okay. But 97? Are they all sick and starving?
Jess: No. But the woman is basically broke.
Me: Is this show sponsored by the same people who air Hoarders? Like it's Hoarders: Animal Edition?
Jess: I don't think so, because it's on Animal Planet.


Blah blah blah we talk about some other stuff.

Jess: Sarah was at a drive through coffee place and on the window they were advertising Mastiffs for sale. Only she didn't get the number, so she told me where it was and I drove there to get the number.
(Please keep in mind that my sister already owns 3 giant Rottweilers. The biggest one weighs more than me. By a good fifteen pounds.)
Me: So did you call?
Jess: Yeah.
Me: What does Travis think of all this?
(Travis is forever having to tell his wife no to her desires for more pets. If she had it her way, she'd already have a fainting goat, an alpaca, a pot bellied pig, a miniature donkey, and like six dogs).
Jess: Well, he said in like two years. After we get our second house. The plan is to get a female Mastiff and then breed it with Squishy.
(Squishy is the 120 pound Rottweiler that was the offspring of their other two Rottweilers. He was named Squishy as a puppy because he was so fat.)
Me: Is there a large market for Mastiffs bred with Rottweilers?
Jess: Oh yeah. There's a breeder on the west coast who only breeds the two together. If we did this, then we'd have a Mastweiler.
Me: A Mastweiler? Why not a Rottstiff?
Jess: That's what Travis said.
Me: Well Rottstiff sounds a lot better. (I repeat it again with a British accent). I would actually name one of the puppies Rottstiff. It sounds like he would attend an all-boys prep school and wear a tailored jacket with the school emblem stitched on.
Jess: But then of course we'd have to keep one of the Mastiff-Rottweiler puppies. To keep the legacy going.
Me: So then you'd have three Rottweilers, a Mastiff, and one Rottstiff?
Jess: Yep.
Me: Well, whatever. As long as you don't appear on an episode of Animal Hoarders.

Jess' first Rottweiler was a girl named Cinderly.

Then Cinderly grew up and met her husband, Thor.

Cinderly got knocked up and had a lot of puppies, including the chubby Squishy.

Jess would hold Squishy, even though he was a fatty.

Pretty soon Squishy outgrew both his parents. It gave his father a complex.

He looks like a moron

Karina: All of my boyfriend's Facebook photos make him look like a moron.
Me: Really?
Karina: Yeah, but I swear he's super hot in real life.
Me: Hmmmm.
Karina: In his photos he always has his eyes half closed, or he's wearing some stupid outfit, or his tongue's hanging out.
Me: I don't really know what to say.
Karina: We've been dating for like, 7 months, but three weeks ago he requested to be my boyfriend on Facebook. I ignored it, and I told him I don't like to publicize my relationship status. But really, I just didn't want my friends who don't know him in real life to click on the link and see what a moron he looks like in all his pictures.
Me: But you think he's super hot in person.
Karina: Oh my gosh yes, he's gorgeous. I'm always afraid other girls are out to nab him from me.
Me: Interesting.
Karina: I'm secretly a little bit relieved when girls friend request him on Facebook, because then what they have stuck in their memories are photos of him looking like an idiot. And then I get to keep him all to myself.
Me: I have this feeling you probably shouldn't tell any of this to him.

Conversations with my sister

While in the car, when talking about the new detective story I’m writing

Jess: Could you put ninjas in it?

Me: Well, I haven’t. But I could if I wanted. Though so far it’s been pretty realistic fiction.

Jess: Ninjas aren’t exactly imaginary, you know. They do exist.

When asked to help come up with a motive

Me: This guy hires the detective because he suspects that someone in his nanotechnology company is leaking secrets to foreign countries.

Jess: Nanotechnology, huh? Maybe like, there could be a microchip. And you implant it into people’s brains to make them not feel hungry. Like a weight loss technique. Only the suspect’s trying to use them for the greater good and he wants to send the microchip to people in Africa so they aren’t starving. That would be a twist.

While at the store choosing fleece fabric to make a dog bed

Jess: What do you think of this brown?

Me: I like it. It’ll be good, because it will hide the dog fur.

Jess: But is it an ugly brown?

Me: No. It’ll be perfect. It’s the exact same color as your dog’s fur.

Jess: My dog is black.

Me: Oh.

While at my house, cutting fabric for her dog bed

Jess: Do you have a yardstick?

Me: No. But I have a ruler.

Jess: Do you have a long ruler?

Me: Jess, all rulers are the same length. 12 inches.

Jess: No, at my work we have some rulers that are 18 inches.

Me: Clearly they are overcompensating for something.

While at my house, looking at piece of artwork I’m creating

Jess: How did you do that? Put the words on top of the picture?

Me: It’s called PowerPoint. You just save it as a JPEG. I put a text box over the image.

Jess: No, but how did you get that flavor of text?

Me: You mean font?

Jess: Yeah, whatever.

Me: No, I like that better. Flavor of text, like you can taste it in your mouth when you're reading it.

While looking at a lomography Polaroid at my house, of a little girl in the rain

Jess: Who is this? Is this you? I know it’s not me.

Me: No, that’s you. You don’t remember that pink jacket?

Jess: But that’s not our house in the background.

Me: That was at Grandma and Grandpa’s.

Jess: Seriously?

Me: No. That’s a photo of a complete stranger.

Marital Conversations with My Sister

We’re sitting around my table, eating lunch today, when I start to complain about my property taxes to my sister.

Me: Look, I have to pay $501.51 to the school district. Basically, I am paying myself to do my job. And mass transit? I have to pay $84.41 so people who don’t have cars can ride the bus.

Jess: Wait, the people who ride buses don’t have to pay?

Me: No, they do, but not that much. Our taxes supplement it. What about this one? $5.55 for the County Soil and Water Department. Here. This is the only one worth paying for. $9.07 to the regional library. Heck, they’re only getting like four bucks more than the dirt department. That’s unfair. 

Then we start to talk about bills.

Me: I’ve got a zillion bills to pay every month. (I tick them off on my fingers) Water, sewer, garbage, internet, PGE, and gas. And I'll start being broke in July. You know, when I quit my job.

Jess: Our cable and internet got shut off yesterday because Travis forgot to pay the bill. 

(My sister is forever forgetting to check her mailbox. She lets it stock up and opens it like twice a month. I could send her an announcement to let her know I was pregnant, and she wouldn’t find out until the baby was born.)

Me: Like, you didn’t check the mailbox, or he flat out forgot to pay it? (in my head I think, why don't they just set up automatic payments on-line? Then they wouldn't forget).

Jess: He forgot to pay it. I’m kind of like, whatever. It’s his bill. I don’t need TV. 

Me: What do you mean it’s his bill? You separate who pays what bills? What’s your bill?

Jess: Um, hello, it’s called the mortgage.

Me: So you pay the mortgage every month. How do you guys decide who pays the other bills?

Jess: Well, it’s like this. He has to pay the Comcast bill because he wanted it. But everything else, I hold up the envelope and say “do you have money for this one? Yes, okay, it’s yours. What about this one?”

Me: So he just gets to choose? What if he can’t pay all of them?

Jess: Then I do it. 

Me: This is all very interesting to me. Your relationship intrigues me.  

I mull everything over in my mind. It’s not at all what I thought being married would be like. I figured if you got married, you’d have a married peoples account, and pay your bills out of that. 

Me: So, you’re like his sugar mama. Or he’s a free loader.

Jess: Yeah, basically. But I pay most of the bills because he still has his student loans and truck payments to make. So it’s not like he’s not paying for anything. He just doesn’t have money left over for all the bills. In about two years he’ll be done with everything, and then we’re going to buy a different house, and he’s going to pay the mortgage for that one. And then I’ll just have to work part time to pay for the other stuff.

Me: So before you got married, did he know he wouldn’t be able to pay the mortgage? Was he like, oh hey, buy this house, I’ll marry you, and then I’ll live here?

Jess: Um, well no. It was my idea to buy the house. 

Me: I’m sure it was. 

No, like really. You’ve got to know my family. It was totally her wanting to own her own house.

Jess: Basically, our conversation was like this: I buy the house, and then he buys me the ring. 

Me: So it was like quid pro quo. 

Because he did propose to her in the front doorway of her own house.

Jess: No. See, Jo, husbands are like expensive pets. You have to take care of them and pay for things, but in return they give you love and affection. I mean, if I were single, I’d be paying for all this stuff anyway. Now I just have someone to live with and love and cuddle with at night. Plus, I don’t have to mow the lawn or clean the gutters. And he feeds my dogs. They’re my dogs, but he takes care of them.

And okay, I can see her point.

Me: I have to do everything myself. I mow my own lawn, clean my gutters, pull the weeds, open all the jars—that’s why I don’t buy Adam’s peanut butter. I can never get the jars open.

Jess: That’s why you need a husband.

Me: Well, I’m wondering about this. Because it would go one of two ways. Either the guy I marry also has his own house, or he doesn’t. If he had his own house, we’d just move to whoever’s house was the nicest. But if he didn’t have a house, we’d have to live here, and I think that might be weird. Because like, it’s my house. And it’s not that I wouldn’t want him here or something, I think I’d just feel like he were another roommate and I’d still feel like I needed to do everything. Like, I’d still be out cutting the grass and pulling weeds by myself, because I wouldn't want to ask.

Jess: Well, how about when you’re married you just buy a new house together?

Me: That would make sense, because then it would be our house, you know? But I wouldn’t want to deal with trying to sell a house at the same time I’m getting married. So we’d have to live here for at least a little bit. Then back to the chores thing. When I see that the lawn is getting tall, am I like “hey honey, will you go mow the lawn?”

Jess: NO, Jo, No. You get him to do the stuff before you marry him.

Which is probably the best and most logical advice my sister has ever given me.

Jess: I got Travis to do all sorts of things when we were just dating. He even cleaned horse stalls for me.

Me: Wow, how’d you get him to do that?

Jess: You have to be like “oh, I really want to hang out with you, but I’ve got to do homework and clean horse stalls first. If you can clean some stalls while I do homework, then we can spend time together after.”

Me: Okay. So I’ll be all “I really want to see you today, but I’ve got to get this lawn mowed.” And then maybe he’ll offer to do it.

Jess: No. That won’t work. He’ll be like, “cool, see you when you’re done.” You always have to have at least two things you need to get done in order for him to help. So you say “I want to hang out with you, but I’ve got to do lesson plans and mow the lawn. If you can mow the lawn, then I can get my lesson plans done and then we can do whatever.” And obviously, he can’t do your lesson plans. So he’ll mow the lawn.

Me: Brilliant.




[Disclaimer: I hope by reading this conversation, you don't think Travis is a jerk. I really love my brother-in-law, and he is super awesome. He helps me do things like haul bookshelves in his pickup to my classroom. So I really appreciate him, even if he likes to pretend like I'm the annoying little sis.]

A conversation between J and N

Setting: Natalie and Joelle are sitting in the kitchen on the bar stools. Natalie is flipping through a catalog of athletic swimsuits and active wear. Joelle is looking on.

N: (looking at monokini swimsuit) I don’t get this. What’s the point?

J: Maybe it’s for people who want to hide their stomach but show off their back. From the back they’re all “ha, look at me, I’m wearing a bikini,” but then they turn around and they’re like “sucker, it’s a monokini.”

N: Is it for people who have a stomach but no love handles? Is that possible?

J: I’m not sure.

N: Seriously, who is this for?

J: Maybe it’s for all the aliens on earth who are trying to hide the fact that they don’t have belly buttons.

N: ….You mean like Kyle XY?

J & N: (bust up laughing)

Should you ride horses on your honeymoon?

A summary of my phone conversation with Kaitlynn, more or less:

J: My neighbors are going to move sometime. They can't move. They're perfect. They need to be my neighbors forever.
K: That's too bad.
J: I know. How am I going to mow my lawn? I'll have to buy a lawn mower. Which is kind of dumb because my lawn is super little. It would be more cost effective to buy a goat. Then he could nibble it down.
K: You'd have to put a gate up.
J: True. Too bad I didn't still have my miniature horse. Then he could just eat the grass. Man, I miss him. Did you ever see a picture of him?
K: No, I don't think so.
J: He's so cute. I always wanted a miniature horse, and then eventually I got one.
K: If you miss horses, my neighbors have some. You could come ride them.
J: Oh, my parents still have horses at our house. I haven't ridden them in like three years. (I grew up riding horses).
I thought about riding them this summer, but I didn't. I couldn't find the saddles. And no way was I riding bareback, after not riding for three years. It kills your thighs.
K: That's why they say you shouldn't go horseback riding on your honeymoon. No romantic horseback rides on the beach.
J: I feel like if you were on the beach for a romantic ride, you would just be walking your horse. And that doesn't hurt. It's when your horse trots that you have to grip it with your thighs.
K: I don't know. Would you really want to risk it? Haven't you ever heard that?
J: That you shouldn't go horseback riding on your honeymoon? No. But I guess it makes sense. I mean, no three hour rides. But I still think you'd be fine riding a walking horse on the beach. I mean, unless you have really flabby thighs with no muscle tone whatsoever. Then it might be a total shock for you.
K: Which is why brides try to work out before their weddings. It's not to look good in the dress, it's so they can go horseback riding on their honeymoon.
J: Exactly.