My husband is asleep on the couch. Get over it. But, take heart! There are sometimes 52 Fridays in a year.
Gentlemen:
Oh man. I could tell you some things. My sister-in-law is getting ready to give birth at any second to my first niece/nephew. She taught me some stuff about birthin'. It ain't pretty. Man! Lousy serpent!
Everyone else:
You are too good to me. I have received an overwhelming/difficult to not think strange number of encouragements after the last posting. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to respond and send love. You know who you are. And i assure you, this is not the only reason you are awesome.
Katie Meyer: You are wise. Can I still say this after some lovely praise? I think so. Anyway, your words have been especially appreciated/needed. A committee has decided that you go ahead and comment on every post from now on. I have always admired you, and I wish also that I knew you more. If only you hadn't graduated college at like 16 or something.
Guys, I have become hopelessly immersed in the world of blog. i'm thinking it might be time to take a break, considering this morning. It was the first thing I thought of when I woke up. I sometimes look forward to blog-reading way more than bible-reading. So you either have to a)stop updating altogether, or b)update - but keep it uninteresting. If neither of these requests are honored, I might have to take a 3 to 10-day hiatus to cleanse my palate. I'll let you know what happens.
In the meantime, here is a list of the top 10-15 things I probably would not know sans the miracle of the blog.
1. Megan plays guitar. Even with those tiny hands. 2. Seven minutes into "November Rain", Brooke's mom calmly said, (in a tortured voice) "I hate this." 3. Kelley and Hot Pockets are really cute together. 4. It is ok to throw up. 5. Last Saturday, a wake was held for Vincy the cat, and Andy, (a recently ordained barista) gave a lovely sermon. (i can only hope that i may have eventually learned this.) 6. Starbucks recruits teachers and doctors to move into coffee-growing communities on a permanent basis. 7. Freaking talk to Talya cause the girl's on freaking fire. 8. Chris really hates Robert Mugabe. 9. Never buy the puppy that bites you in the pet store! 10. Let a man be the scruffily comfortable man he was born to be. (Don't even get me started on business casual...) 11. The worst thing Ben Scragg ever wrote was a response to Peter Railton's "Moral Realism," from Philosophical Review. It took more or less 3 hours to write. 12. Today in conlaw, we talk about reproductive rights. 13. The local music scene around Bloomington, IN is lame.
Does this completely blow your mind? Do you feel ashamed? Did God intend for the world to work this way? We'll find out soon enough. The only problem I have with this whole thing is that I still have no idea who Harlan Booth is. Whoever you are, Harlan, (Greg?) everyone seems to loves you.
(Signs that you need to lay off the blog a little include...) See you all tomorrow. i look forward to it. Goodnight.
Tammy called while I was at work. She left this message: "Lyndsey-baby, tell Seth I said 'Hi.' I need to talk to you. I'll be at my aunt's house around two if you want to pick me up. I'll see you then." Her number showed up as "private" on my cell phone, so I couldn't call her back when I got off work later that night. She hasn't called since. So that's it. No more of that crazy lady. Wasn't that an anti-climactic ending? I'm so disappointed.
The bigger trauma out of all this is that very few people think what I did was a good idea. I have never heard the word "dumbass" so many times in my life. This is not at all what you want to hear when you are secretly looking for praise. "Fearless leader risks life and limb help neighbor in trouble" "Selfless child of God receives praise for good deed done" "Profile of a Saint: Lyndsey Teter sparks choir of angels to dance in her honor." You know, that type of thing. Can't you people take a hint?
I also made the mistake of slipping at dinner with the parents. I really would have preferred to just stop talking about it. This is not what happened. Try to get over it. They had the worst reaction of all. Even my mother, a born-again bleeding heart, glaringly dissaproved. Sadly, the good people at Some Amish Restaurant had to witness a breakdown in tears. Poor Waiter Anthony was so uncomfortable that he fed us some lie about the pies being ready in the bakery. "They are all available to take home now if you don't want to stick around for desert," he hinted. And we had just all spent a lovely day at the woodcarver's house in Dover. It was really a good situation gone terribly bad.
The root of the problem, and why i've become so emotional lately, is that I don't know what I want to be when i grow up. Several times since graduation I have packaged up the resume, cover letter and clips, only to take them out from the mailbox. I don't think i want to be a reporter. But this is what I paid thousands of dollars to learn about, right?
I don't want PR. I sure as hell don't want advertising. I could go on down the list, but it would just prove how spoiled a brat i really am. Do i want to be a writer or a social worker? (I have no training in the latter, mind you.) It's so frustrating. I hate having this burden in the pit of my stomach every day. I hate crying in restaurants. I hate crying at Shrek 2. I hate crying a few days later at the thought of Shrek 2. I hate how my brain keeps getting dumber and dumber with each passing month. I hate how much i love Starbucks. I hate the pressure I put on myself. Why can't i just do whatever I do for the glory of god? Why does my career have to directly help the poor, widow and orphan? Can't I adapt a lifestyle of that sort of philosophy and report local news during the day? (Insert Clark Kent joke here.) Why can't I just send out a damn resume? I obviously don't know how to help people in trouble...(rest of rant censored by author)
I have decided that God is trying to totally freak me out. You're pushin me baby!
Bah! I'm going to go look for a career on the internet. I'll be ok. Maybe if Killey McGee up there would give me a moments peace!
(Note to God: Please don't really leave me alone. It was a reference to the Simpson's. You know, satire. You invented it. Gotta go. XOXOX LT)
Everyone at work has the flu. Our boss is in Seattle for leadership training. Therefore, I have learned what it is to work repeated 12-hour shifts serving coffee. It's actually not terrible, only slightly depressing when you make a drink for the same person 4-5 times in that span of hours. Depressing a) because they have come and gone and i'm still here, and b) because they really do have a serious problem with coffee.
Anyway between that, church stuff, baby showers and trips to a woodcarver's house, I have been especially unreachable.
Coming soon: updates (Tammy, babies, knives, etc.) Don't miss it. I'm off to work. I'm closing. I'll be doing the same thing tommorrow, so...yeah.
I have been online reading and blogging for AT LEAST three hours.
Remember dial-up, and the moment you clicked offline? It would tell you something like 01:24:08, and you could know exactly how many seconds of life had been wasted. Then you could follow up with the appropriate amount of guilt. Now, with broadband (we don't have cable, so we're allowed this luxury) you have no clue how many hours you've been plugged in. It's a 24-hour party. One big blurry vein where i can stick the needle any time i need it. MMMMMMMM. yeahhh. Cable Modem. mmmmmm.
Yesterday, while I was cleaning out my car in front of our house, I met Tammy. She was walking down the street with an unlit cigarette. I knew exactly what she needed. I had accumulated a couple hundred lighters in my car, so I was ready when she approached me. I heard "How you doin, baby?" and barely after I turned around, i heard the story of a car breaking down, moving to a new city, moving in with an aunt, looking for a job, being shot by a stray bullet, ect., until we reached the inevitable climax of every conversation with a stranger on my street: "Can I have (fill in some random amount of money, like $2.30)"
Unfortunately, I had plenty of lighters, but no money to give Tammy. Instead, I offered her a ride home. She accepted immediately and jumped in the passenger seat of my car. What had I done? I thought. This is not Athens. Tammy can and will probably kill me. I got in the car, buckled up and smiled politely. "Where do you want to go today, Tammy?"
We had a nice drive. She had me all over the ghetto, stopping at different friends along the road to chat and ask for money. Tammy knew too many large, scary men who were on their way to jail (her words, not mine). She told me the details of her life, and by the end of our trip, i agreed to take her to the grocery store. When we finally arrived at her house, she hugged me, kissed me on the cheek, and told me that I had made her day. She told me she loved me, which was strange, that she would call me, and that she was looking forward to going to the grocery and maybe grabbing a beer afterwards. I mumbled out the window that her I loved her, too, which was strange. I do, I guess.
Anway, Tammy has my phone number now. She is going to call today about the grocery trip. Seth told me that I'm not allowed to take her by myself, especially if it involves picking her up somewhere. I might disobey. I am still trying to decide now. She left a bunch of papers in my car. They were information about and an application for the Columbus Drug & Mental Health Clinic.
So many lessons already after Tammy.
1) If your thoughts become obsessive over any good deed you do, you should definitely be doing more good deeds. It was truly amazing to see how quickly my head filled with pride and judgment of those around me. (Hey Giant SUV College Boy....how many people did you give a ride to today?! HA!)
2) For someone who talks about loving "the least of these" so much and bashes everything - especially corporations - that do not, i sure am petrified of them, and reluctant to do anything practical or hands-on to better their situation.
3)"If they weren't all poor and black and men," i thought to myself, "I probably wouldn't be so scared." In fact, I was completely terrified the entire time by this poor woman and the stereotypes associated with her friends. Way more terrified, i'm almost positive, than Jesus would have been.
4) I have previously ran to the car on the way to church. I will run quicker if i see someone black or male walking down the street. Isn't there something hypocritical about this?
This whole incident comes after a long prayer a week ago that went a little something like this: "Lord, I am surrounded by the poor, but I have no way of knowing how to begin helping them. I live a few blocks from some of your most in need, but I am too scared to start something on my own. Put a someone in my lap today. Show me step-by-step how I can help."
This is not a lie.
I asked more specifically for a family, but I got a Tammy instead, who now has my cell phone number. Please help me. Am I dumb for offering rides to strangers? Am i being fearless, or stupid? Should I pick up Tammy and take her to the store? Is there another way to help her? What is step two, please.
this blog comes to you courtesy of one-handed typing.
remember the mangled finger from the blender incident? he now has a friend in recovery.
Today i decided that the Wal-Mart candle we have been burning for years needed a little trim. i set everything up perfectly....candle on the countertop, large butcher knife heating on the stove burner...about ten minutes into the project, i had worked almost completely around the thing (it's a four-wicker, so it was a very tedious procedure) and was just beginning to enjoy the pumpkin pie aroma when i felt a jerk and then a small, punching sensation. it seemed i had cut off a bit of my finger.
Now, I am tough, and have had many other moments in my life when unexpected traumas have occurred. i have been brave. overly concerned about finding my missing teeth, yes, but also very brave and helpful for the paramedics. i thought i was a champ until today.
I totally passed out. almost. i mean, i sat down pretty rapidly as my finger meat started pouring out, and that's about when everything turned white (think cinamatography in Man on Fire) and the earth sort of stopped. or maybe it started revolving extra fast, i'm not sure. learn this lesson: broken bones are way more fun than lacerations. bones, i can do, but blood and guts and finger brains...this i can barely type without gagging. ugh.
So the pointer finger on my left hand has a large chunk missing, but don't worry, they stitched me up. if you need a visual, hold up your left hand in the shape of an L. now imagine a chunk of flesh to be missing between the second and third knuckle. from the top. and yes, that bottom one counts as a knuckle. yeeeeahhh. ow, huh? but as i said, don't worry. they sort of just pulled the skin over. needle and thread, metal plates and screws..i'm a real bang-up job here. i just hope it doesn't leave a scar. (ha)
I think there is a certain point in maturity where one shall no longer enjoy going to a dirty, smelly, loud bar and being a becoming obnoxiously drunk with old friends. i think i might almost be there. in the meantime, i'm sorry i gave all you hatas a temptation to judge. That was a joke. Judging is not.
Hey!
It's time to focus on the things that are pure, true and good.
I read a bit of Leviticus last night. It was a nice little bed time story. Ehhhhh. Man, God sure is Holy, huh? Don't you even think about bringin him no imperfect member of the herd. he ain't havin it.
Hey!
All you theologians, rise up.
When Jesus said that he didn't come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it, does that mean that God still delights in rules being followed (see: Leviticus)? Sometimes i think if i ever brought an animal sacrifice, God would be like "What are you doing, girl? I already took care of that..."
But sometimes I want to. Not so that I can be pure and worship the Lord in the temple, but so I can honor him. What if I decided against the burnt offering and wanted to follow some more realistic Jewish traditions? Would God frown upon that or would he think it was cute that I cleared my house of leavened bread, etc? This is still the same God. It's just that our rules are different now. A new covenant, and whatnot.
Don't tell me you haven't thought the same thing at least once.
It's confession time.
I am convinced that I am never going to be a worthwhile person.
Last night, in the spirit of...something beyond me, or sadly, nothing but me, i went to happy hour with a confessed alcoholic friend and my sister. Then, by lure of $6 all you can drink Budweiser, we went to Oldfield's (not our Oldfield's Mae, the other MORE ghetto Oldfield's on Summit, if that's possible. and yes, the owner was there, and no, he didn't buy me any expensive whiskey). we met up with a few old high school friends (washington court house people will forever be representing, no matter where you go) and i had way too many beers. and i was supposed to get my sister home by nine to write her paper and study for her test. and i wanted to be home and sober by then to see Seth, who has to leave again, but anyway.
now i feel like shit. AAANNNDDD my sister! who eats McDonald's like 4 times a week? She decided to give up fast food for Lent. She also knows nothing about Lent, but instead of encouraging her in her efforts to better herself and her world, i went with her to McDonald's within the first couple of hours she decided to give it up. i wanted a double cheeseburger. i want this. i want that. and if you get in my path, i'll destroy you. and if you work with me and you are an alcoholic, come to the bars with me. i could use a drink. And you know what i had for lunch? Taco Bell.
you'd think if i'm not doing anything to benefit society, the least i could do is try not to spiral it further into hell. it's not just fast food and a night out i'm talking about here. It's something way more inherently lazy and self-serving. it's deep inside me and its voice continues to grow louder and louder. it's the same voice from freshman year in college. i hate that guy! perhaps seth should just hire a better babysitter.
the good news...i was able to catch up with Andrew Mowrey, who is really great and who might call when she and Kevin have dance parties in their home. i crave this. the other good news...Courtney Ross was our bartender. In junior high we worked at the pool together and i, on several occasions, thought "if i could only have her boobs, then everything in my life would be perfect."
Don't tell me you haven't thought the same thing at least once.
we accidentally slept through our half-anniversary dinner! our sleeping patterns are all in disarray. we'll have to move celebration to another night. oh well, it was a really good nap. you know the kind. and we managed to finish the rest of the cheesecake before nodding off, which is sort of romantic in a gluttonous way.
in other news, i had a lovely luncheon with a miss lyndsey fellers this afternoon at Planks Cafe (and Pizzeria) in German Village. she lured me into her social trap like a beautiful siren singing "i have presents for you...many presents...wedding presents....from sarah non-puttick." no seriously, i didn't get any wrapped presents, but i had the present of QT with LF. she stays up to care for the sick and the marginalized from 11pm to 9am. now that is dedication to the cause.
Jim Wallis once quoted a guy who said "you won't be able to get into heaven without a letter of recommendation from the poor." What will yours look like?
Dear God,
Please let Lyndsey into heaven. Once, in college, on Fridays, she played with a bunch of our children only after receiving a free meal. She also gave one of our women five dollars to eat at Wendy's in Cincinnati. I wish we could say more, but she was busy. You know, with stuff. Actually, mostly she was just afraid of us. Not sure what the deal is there.
Rankin, thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about the Hermsicle. Also, Welcome to the Club. You are on your way to becoming An Elitist.
I was just noticing the other day as we were watching television. herman was on my lap resting peacefully until suddenly, he was not. as i lifted the covers i noticed he was eagerly traveling up and down the couch. apparently he has grown into a little explorer. we got him a giant plastic ball to run around in, and ever since then, he has been fearless. he is always moving. more in the daytime now, also. you have a big ball for your hedgehog, right? maybe its something about seeing the world tinted yellow (or blue or red or whatever) that gives them the fever. honestly, i miss the days he was too pissed off to do anything but cuddle.
you should have seen him in ashland. he had his rolly ball, and was running full-force into charlie. this is even funnier when you consider the hour or so of training we went through to teach charlie that he could not touch or roll the ball with his giant paws or face. for a while, charlie was satisfied keeping his nose a half-inch from the ball and following it closely around the house. then suddenly, herman turned on charlie and the poor dog had to twist and contort in order to avoid touching the yellow plastic ball of destruction. ahhhhhhhhh....pets.
as for the pooping, it will never stop. they never outgrow it. they, like humans, only learn to love pooping more as time goes by.
i am finally applying for a job on Monday. The reason i waited this long was that I have a plan of being hired from the first application i send out. i'll let you know what happens. (flash to sixteen months from now, when i'm promoted to shift supervisor) Ehhhhhh.
Anyway, we have some cheesecake, and tomorrow is our sixth month anniversary! you do the math.
Seth is leaving for DC soon and I am very afraid. I have become entirely too dependent on him being here every day. Remember in college when we would go two or three weeks without so much as a glimpse of each other? no wonder i was such a slut. kidding. kidding? anyway, be nice and send me an encouraging email/comment/phone call/kiss on the forehead. but don't call my phone, because it is lost. i think permanently. it has been 2 weeks. call seth's phone. well, you can call my phone, but i wont answer. i'll just hear the message later. deal? ok. awesome. and dont' be surprised if i call you at 10:30 p.m. to inform you:
a) i am getting ready to walk the short but deadly distance from my car to my home
b) there is a strange man hiding behind a tree in the dark
c) said strange man is now tapping on my car window
d) i am being pursued by a criminal
e) or that i have been unfortunately killed.
i already have one day booked in ashland with the sister and the parents. this will better my slim chance of survival. i hope to take my husband's advice to "don't get dead."
in other news, Herman.
Is terrible at being a hedgehog. We bought him some mealworms. The book said he would love them. Once you take them out of the refrigerator, these worms are very much alive, mind you, and very difficult to touch and feed to him. i can hear them pleading for their lives. Also, he wants nothing to do with them. we are attempting to train him to follow his natural instincts, but alas, he only wants more cat food. i would just die if my hedgehog thought he was a cat. or worse! wanted to be one. The book also says it may take some time before he's ready to eat the worms. so in the meantime, we got him a giant clear ball to run around the house in. it's completely hilarious. i couldn't have asked for it to turn out better.
I must note, however, that if I change my music preference to "indy rock," i am immediately transformed into Float On by Modest Mouse. Like Megan. Now we are the same. Only I didn't break up with Seth.
Name: Seth
Alias: Teth Seter or Steter.
In Brief: The Steter in his natural habitat. Married to theteet.blogspot.com since August 2004. Often the victim of serious hyperbole. Handy.
Hates: Noise, Dominion Homes, above-the-nipple touching, when people get 'handsy.'
Loves: pies (of any kind), dirt, smoking a pipe after eating pie. also, cows.
Name: Maybel
Alias: The Pig or Boobles.
In Brief: Kentucky-born English Bulldog since February 2006.
Hates: Watermelon. All other kinds of melon. The sound of a new trash bag being opened and sitting in the back seat.
Loves: Treats, walks, Charlie, 'humping it out' and barfing.
Name: Amanda
Alias: The Sister.
In Brief: theteet's younger (but larger) sister. Survived a brain bleed in February 2007.
Hates: minor inconveniences that make her blurt out uncontrollably, brain bleeds.
Loves: UFC, cornhole, texting, fast food and her dog Charlie.
Name: mom and dad.
Alias: the 'rents.
In Brief: Ashland natives and frequent visitors. They taught me how to swear.
Hates: hospitals.
Loves: squirrels and lattes.
Name: Mae
Alias: Klingler or Maddog.
In Brief: Cincinnati resident and former college/Old Towne East roommate. Once wrote a song that made theteet cry.
Hates: Hate.
Loves: Jesus, family, puns, guitars and gardening.
Name: Colleen
Alias: Crankin and Rankin.
In Brief: Akron resident and former college roomie. Arguably more handy than Seth. Nice bosom for hugging.
Hates: all drivers.
Loves: beer, coffee, cigarettes and boys we all find strange.
Name: Talya
Alias: Strader and Sweet T.
In Brief: Chicago resident and former college roomie. served brief stint at theteet's 'accountability partner.' collects monthly fee for keeping quiet.
Hates: people who do not comment on her blog.
Loves: social justice, eggs, her boyfriend monsterbeard and the occupation of barista.
Name: Chris
Alias: Christopher, Monsterbeard and Nadine.
In Brief: Chicago resident and college buddy. Maker of 'We once waited up in the dark with a gun,' and other misadventures.
Hates: people who are looking the other way.
Loves: history, film, his girlfriend Strader and acronyms.
Name: pdawg.
Alias: none needed.
In Brief: Former co-worker who is willing to eat waffles with theteet at 4 in the morning regardless of level of snow emergency.
Hates: anyone under the age of 35.
Loves: Hostess pies, old man rants and golf.
Name: Linsly.
Alias: MERLIN, lin or newbie.
In Brief: Former co-worker who lived with us for a week. I can tell this kid anything. He's like a brother.
Hates: sexual predators.
Loves: zombies, guns, porch chats and movie quotes.
Name: jaydubs.
Alias: jwray and 10bagspacking.
In Brief: Co-worker who taught me everything I know about the world.
Hates: mean jokes, mushrooms, clipping fingernails in the office.
Loves: crafts, her gay-together but also betrothed person Kyle, Columbus Bride Magazine, veggie-friendliness and basil.
Name: jessica.
Alias: jessm.
In Brief: College buddy with the amazing handshake. I believe she might be back from Alaska and living in Hudson now.
Hates: poverty.
Loves: Jesus, jazz, geography and hilarious t-shirts.
Name: brittiny.
Alias: Brit-Brat, experimental dater or The Dunlap.
In Brief: Former co-worker (notice a theme here?) who started with me at SNP on the same day. Former Sorority president taught me the ropes of being a lady. her wisdom did not take.
Hates: visible pany line.
Loves: cocktails, shoes, 'the blue box' and her boyfriend the Lizard.
Name: garth and jen.
Alias: not safe around house plants and the real spider-man and/or HSnothingswronghere.
In Brief: Co-worker couple who proved themselves fun at work and on the farm. Periodically forced to kiss in gas station parking lots.
Hates: local broadcast news reporters.
Loves: zombies, movie quotes, Indianapolis and lin rice.
Name: Angie.
Alias: captain cool.
In Brief: Former co-worker who stole my heart. She is the only thing I've ever lost to the Youngstown Vindicator.
Hates: joe and misogynists.
Loves: celebrity gossip, hilarious captions, biking/hiking, her boyfriend Jef, her mom and Columbus.
Name: Melville.
Alias: welcome to earf or bad town.
In Brief: Former co-worker who let me inherit his seat at SNP. For a while, he was the only one who would talk Reynoldsburg politics with me.
Hates: fleas, eminent domain and people who flip the bird.
Loves: his evil cat, running, opinions, beer and Tom Waits.
Name: The Gerish.
Alias: The Gerish.
In Brief: Co-worker and rare, elusive creature. If you're lucky, you'll see a tousle of black hair breeze by over the cubicle wall.
Hates: Things that aren't crackers.
Loves: crackers.
Name: Dennis.
Alias: secret reading.
In Brief: Co-worker and rare, elusive creature. If you're lucky, he'll walk over and talk to you. But he probably won't. Once took my sister-in-law to Homecoming.
Hates: The damn kids who walk in his yard.
Loves: Corgis, Cedar Point and Rachael. But not the one you're thinking of.
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