Chuck Dodgers in the 24 1/2th Century!

I have news! My dad has email. It's been a bit of a struggle trying to remember how to log onto the internet, connect to his email account, log in and send mail but he's almost got it down pat now. The biggest problem came in the form that the internet dialup has a different login and password from email. I am soliciting people to keep in touch with my dad via email and if you'd like to have his email address, just drop me an email and I will be happy to provide it to you. I draw the line at posting it to the internet population at large.

I thought about throwing something in here about my dad, internet bimbos and him being "newly single"...but I ultimately decided that people wouldn't get my sense of humor and I'd come off sounding heartless. Our sense of humor is one thing that my mom and I had in common - very irreverent. Right after she died, we were discussing something in a crowd and it turned out that the date of the funeral was going to conflict with something or cause us difficulty in some way. I said, "Oh, way to go, Mom." My family got it - my dad, Jeff and Robin snickered but other people just looked shocked. I kinda bit my tongue but ultimately I decided that my mom woulda got the joke so I didn't care if it shocked everybody else. She'd want us to go on as we did before. Anybody who came in at the last ten minutes of my mom's visitation would have been in for a shock. Caleb, Jeff, Robin, Tracy, Mike and I were taking pictures of each other and fooling around with my camera-phone. By this time everybody'd been and gone and we were at the very end of the evening. Caleb wanted me to take his picture with the pillow he'd made for my mom which was propped against the wooden box that held the box with her ashes. He started to move the box and only the top part moved - it came away from the base a little bit and I automatically said (gently but quite alarmed), "Oh, Caleb! Don't move that! You'll spill Grandma." I looked at Jeff. He looked at me and the whole bunch of us started to laugh. We laughed so hard we were holding our sides and Jeff made the joke that if that happened we could change the words of "Grandma Got Runover By a Reindeer" to "Grandma Got Sucked Up in a Hoover." My mom would have loved it.

In other news, Mike barely survived through the day today after he attempted to "mute" me with the remote control.

Caleb competed in a tractor pull in Missouri this weekend and...ahem...he took third place. Not bad for his first time out, thankyouverramuch. And save the hillbilly-tractor-pull jokes for someone who isn't proud of it, k? ;) If you would like to send him congratulations, I will also be happy to provide you with his email address. I think those are the only emails I'm willing to give out, though...let me think about that....uh....yeah, definitely.

Also, I owe everybody a HUGE apology - thanks to Mike's mom for tell me! It turns out that somehow because I've been getting a lot of, like, spam comments, blogger set it so that I have to ok any comments that people make. I had a whole slew of them! Who knew. Also, I would like to know if the poster of the "Sandy's 3 1/2 years younger than me. Guess who?" comment is Mike's Auntie Bren. If not, then it's my mom. She and Mike's aunt were born one day apart. Please continue to comment. Reading the comments is half the fun. Oh, but - please, please, please...put your name on your comment somewhere. If you can't change anonymous to read your name, then just sign it. My head hurts from trying to figure out who all the "anonymous"es are.

I had a follow up doctor's appointment today. Mike's boss is an MD and he agreed to see me. He continued my anti-depressant prescription and changed my antibiotic because the one I had wasn't working. He said he could see evidence of drainage and some fluid in my ear. I was all smiley thinking all would be well. Then the nurse came in with my prescription, a sample pack with my anti-biotic in it...and a hypodermic needle. I'm glad Mike was there because I couldn't stop staring at the needle long enough to pay attention. I kept thinking, "Please don't let that be for me." And she said, "And I'm going to give you a shot of (whatever the drug was) which will help with your drainage and allergies." This is the first I've heard of allergies...apparently the doc thinks my chronic sinus problems are partly allergies. Anyways, I'm already semi-freaking out about the shot when she said, "You'll have to get down, I'm going to put this in your hip." GET THE HELL OUT OF TOWN! Not only a shot but a shot in the BUTT! I seriously looked at her and said, "Heeeeeeeeeeell, no." But then I got down and she gave me the shot and it wasn't HORRIBLE although it hurt. Pain is not my friend. And for being such a good girl, Mike bought me a video game. It was a clearance game...he'd only promised me a CD and this was actually cheaper. It's a pirate game where I search for treasure and kill monkeys. Why monkeys? No idea...it's odd, I know. Anyway, after all this Anglo-Needle Torture (As opposed to Chinese Water Torture, get it?), the nurse tells me that they want to see me in a month and to make sure I fast because THEY WILL BE DRAWING BLOOD.


AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know that I need to do this because I want to take care of myself and getting a sort of base-reading on where I'm at is a good idea but I'm like, "Who is this mad man?! Can't you at least buy me dinner first? Geez." I'm also worried that in a month he'll tell me I'm diabetic. Now I have no real reason to believe this will be true except that it's on both sides of my family and I've always figured it's just a matter of time. I'm not having any symptoms that seem to indicate that I have out of control blood sugars or anything and so I could totally be worrying for nothing. Anyway, I've already made several lifestyle adjustments. Positive ones. No more soda, little to no fried foods, no potato chips (my big weakness) and I've started eating these Quaker Ricecake snacks and adding carrot sticks to my diet. The Rice snacks do taste a bit strange but I can handle it. Also, Mike and I are on the cusp of a new "take a walk every night" exercise regime. It starts Monday when I have (hopefully) gotten rid of this cold. We'll start with a set distance and add a block or two every other night. So really, being a diabetic wouldn't be the end of the world. I guess I'm just worried about trying to work in another big life change.

I do tend to ramble, don't I? I'm going to wrap this up and go and give my husband a big Ranch flavored Quaker Rice Snack kiss. He'll love that. Almost as good as blue cheese kisses or peanut butter kisses. Anyway, COMMENT, COMMENT, COMMENT and I'll try and get the Polish Wonder here to do a posting of his own.

Peace!

Where have all the readers gone?

Does anybody read this anymore? I haven't had a comment in, like, 2 months! Echo....echo....echo....

No matter. I will continue to dispense the facts regardless.

I talked to my dad today. It turns out that in January he can retire if he wants to. He'll receive widower benefits from social security and he can draw from his pension at work. He'll actually make more money this way than he would working. The only drawback being that he'll be without health insurance until medicare kicks in when he's 65. He'll be eligible for greatly discounted medical care at the VA hospital in Iowa City, though. He's thinking about it. I told him to talk to Mike's dad. He's retired and might be able to offer insight.

To top off an awful couple of weeks, I've got a cold. I'm on anti-biotics to get rid of a sinus infection and have somehow caught a cold. I'm achy, stuffed up, coughing and have a killer sore throat. I've also discovered that chamomile tea is a foul, foul beverage.

Mike's got two interviews today and one next week. Cross your fingers and send happy thoughts our way. It'd be great if he could get one of these jobs. It'd be nice if I could get an interview or two also...but one thing at a time.

I'm taking a nap. Behave!

Eastbound and Down

Tomorrow's (actually today now) the day - we head back to Chicago. Back to reality. Back to the real world. Despite how hard it's been to be in this house without my mother, it's going to be worse to go back to Chicago. It's easy to be surrounded by family and friends when in times of trouble - much less easy to be back a reality where few people care much about you. Oh I have friends - friends with lives who won't be able to take time off of work to sit around and mope with me. Mike will have to go back to work and won't be around to "just be there" for me. He doesn't say much but his presence is comforting. Not talking but enduring the scrutiny of hundreds of cousins and friends who hadn't yet met him...along with the lustful glances of my 85 year old Aunt Anna Margaret (my Granny's baby sister) who mentioned, very vehemently, what a handsome husband I had. Then she blushed when she realized that Mike was heading our direction and made me promise not to tell him that she'd said that.

I feel like my family has endured our fair share of grief in the last few years. It's hard to remember that everything happens for a reason in times like these. When Matt died I didn't think I could feel worse. As I sat on the couch in the front row at my mother's funeral and listened to my father sob next to me, I realized that there may be one person in the room who felt worse than I did. I vowed at that moment that it would not be Mike and my children sitting there in thirty years. One of the last things my mom said to me before I left Iowa the last time we visited was that she wished she'd started living healthier thirty years ago so that maybe she wouldn't have had to endure her heart attack and recovery - not to mention the fact that her heart was now so weak. I've made a plan consisting of three things that I am going to do within the next year.

1> Get a job. I can't really do 2 and 3 without a job as they take money that we do not currently possess.

2> Lose weight. I am setting a minimum goal of 50 pounds. I hope to lose more but at a minimum, I want to lose a pound a week. I can adjust what I eat fairly easily but my intentions to join the Y have been derailed by East-West University and the State of Illinois. That is what I'm going to do the minute I have the money. Spending money to be affiliated with an association is a guarantee that Mike will force me out of the house and onto the treadmill. Not to mention that Mike wants to get back in shape as badly as I do. We're going to do what we can without a gym membership but there's only so many places you can walk and certain hours that you can walk when you live in a big city - especially when your neighborhood borders more questionable neighborhoods.

3> Get pregnant. Not give birth - I'm not in a huge hurry for this one. Mike and I have been discussing kids and the death of my mom has made me realize that I'm not getting any younger. As I said, I'm not in a super rush. I want some time to prepare a nest egg and get healthier and get my body readier to be pregnant. My goal is to be pregnant by the end of August next year. Will this happen? Dunno - I'm not really in control of that...but I'm working on it.

I had better get to bed - it'll be a long drive tomorrow.

Goodnight.

Today

Today is my mother's funeral. In her honor, I would ask today that if your parents are living, you give them a call and tell them how much you appreciate them. If you are a parent, call your child/ren. Make good use of the opportunity that you have because I wish I had the same.

And in honor of my mother, I would like to take this opportunity to say to Mike's family, my family and my beautiful friends...."I love you."

I'm grieving...it's a process

Well here we are again in the middle of the night - seeking sleep but not finding it. I did manage to get a bit of sleep last night...mostly because I took a hefty dose of Xanax. I try to stay at about .25 - .50 mg but it has only been helping me sleep about 4 hours a night and I'm always afraid to take more at 4 in the morning because I don't really want to sleep all day. Last night I doubled the dose and took a whole mg. I slept almost all night. I'm still exhausted and I look like hell with dark circles and the whole bit. I guess considering that before last night I slept a maximum of 4 hours, I feel pretty good.

I've said this before, but it bears repeating. When I was about three years old, I was in Spurgeon's department store with my mother and we got separated. Being three, I was sure that I was never going to see my mother again and I was in a state of panic until a nice lady took me to the customer service desk where they paged overhead for "Lucinda's mother to please come to the service desk." That is the same feeling I've had for the past four days. This panicky, little kid-like fear never leaves me. This time, though, there is no service desk to page her.

There is a line that has been running through my head all day. It is from the Edna St. Vincent Millay poem that I posted on the blog a couple of months ago to commemorate the anniversary of Matt's death. "More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world."

Tonight we taught my dad how to play Mike's Grandpa's dicey game.

Today Chaplain Randy from the hospital where my mom works stopped out to see us. He's so wonderful - I've always really liked him but saying nice things about my mom always earns extra brownie points. He brought us this really pretty wooden keepsake box and a book with poetry, pictures and advice on how to work your way through the grieving process. In the book was this poem by Robert Browning which I really like:

I walked a mile with Pleasure;

She chattered all the way.

But left me none the wiser

For all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow

And ne'er a word said she;

But, oh the things I learned from her

When Sorrow walked with me.

The cards started coming in today. We got some from friends, one from her doctor's office and one from her former insurance agent. That's the beauty of small, closely-knit communities, I guess. Everybody remembers you.

We met with the lady who will be conducting Mom's memorial service. She wanted to speak with us and "get to know" Mom a little bit. She asked me why she was a good Mom. What made her a good Mom? I couldn't answer. How do you sum up something so large into a few words? She was my everything. She loved me more than anyone in this world will EVER love me. She gave me life and until last Friday I had never known a world without her. I told the reverend that I will think about it and try to put it into words. I started to write down things I remember about my mom into a small notebook that I'm carrying around with me. I was doing alright and then writing "I always had to save the pecans in the mixed nut container for her. She told me that her mom always got the pecans when she was growing up, she will get all the pecans while I am growing up and then when I have kids I can make them give me the pecans" made me cry.

I went and visited my brother's memorial marker today. I was feeling low and very alone. I can't say I miraculously felt better or anything but I did manage to remind myself that Matt was there to meet her when she died and he's probably got the best spots scoped out for her already.

My mom had a saying taped to the front of her locker at work and I've decided to adopt it as my personal mantra. Whenever I get down and feel sorry for myself, I'll say, "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."

Yesterday I went down to the hospital where my mom works to clean out her locker and talk with everybody. I saw tons of people and it took me all day to get done and out of the building. When I expressed how much I'll miss seeing my mom to her friend and co-worker, Sandy (who has worked with her forEVER), she touched my face and said, "Whenever you miss your mom's face, look in the mirror and there it is."

Tomorrow Mike and I are going to have lunch with my mom's long-time best friend, a woman she always referred to as "Marvelous Martha" Schumacher. I'm rather looking forward to it.

I know this is sort of a spastic post - all over the place...but that's how my thought processes are working right now. Wanna fight about it? Didn't think so.

I'm going to try and sleep now - wish me luck.

Arrangements...

As most of you probably know but some of you may not, my mother died unexpectedly on Friday, August 25th. I wanted to let everyone know about the funeral arrangements that we've made. I also want to take this opportunity to send my heartfelt thanks to everyone for their thoughts, calls and prayers.

As per my mother's wishes, she has been cremated. Her ashes will be combined with my baby brother's. When my father passes, his ashes will be added and we will scatter them so that they may remain together forever.

There will be a visitation to honor my mother's memory on Friday, September 1, 2006. The funeral home will be open from 9AM until 8PM and the family will be receiving visitors from 6PM until 8PM. There will be additional visitation time from 10AM until 11AM on Saturday, September 2, 2006. There will be a memorial service on Saturday, Sept. 2 at 11AM. Following the service, there will be an on-site luncheon. A memorial has been established in her name.

The visitation and memorial service will be held at:

Elliott Chapel
One Redbud Lane
New London, Iowa 52645
319-367-5211

If you want an address and/or phone number for myself, my father or my brother, Jeff, you may respond in the comments, give me an email or call my cell phone if you have the number.

Insomnia

I'm sitting here at my mother's computer and it's 3:30 in the morning. I can't sleep. I feel like I'll never sleep again. I keep looking over at the couch because ordinarily, if I was sitting here on the computer in the middle of the night, she'd be asleep on the couch by the window with a couple of her dogs.

I do pretty good for awhile and then I fall apart for a little bit. I've cried so much that at one point, I couldn't produce tears anymore. I sat there with my face scrunched up, making crying noises but producing no waterworks.

Poor Mike has had the worst of it. He's been very solid and stoic thusfar and I know he feels so bad for me. He was with me when I found out she had died. He followed me around when I decided that I couldn't be in the house anymore and he was the one who held me while I literally screamed at him, "No! I can't go through this again! This isn't happening! I want my mom! Make it stop! I WANT MY MOM!"

The worst bit tonight was when I was looking through some pictures that my mom has tucked away in one of her desk drawers. There are so many cute pictures of us as kids, my cousins, parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. It was fun. I was laughing at this picture of my mom holding my baby brother...and he really was a baby at this point, maybe a year old. In the picture she's grinning, bent over partway with Matty in her arms while he giggles and grabs ahold of her father (my grandpa Parker's) hair. My grandpa has this really funny look on his face. It's a great picture. Then, even as I laughed at it, I suddenly had this bone-chilling thought. "Everyone in this picture is dead." My laughter died and I was suddenly bawling like a two year old again.

I thought to myself today, "Y'know, people go through this every day." I mean, I'm certainly not the only person in the world to lose a parent. Not even the only one to lose one on Friday. People deal with this every day but, Oh dear God, I don't know how they survive. I mean, I know I will. As my mother always says, "Remember, 'This too, shall pass.'" And so it will.

But who's going to help me solve all my problems? Who's going to buy useless little trinkets and give them to me when I visit? Who's going to buy me Angel Cheeks figurines and Willow Tree Angels that I've run out of room for? Who's going to listen to me complain, give me advice and always say, "You know, Lucinda, these things have a way of working themselves out."? Who?

I'm so lost.

An update

Mike and I have arrived at my parents' house. We're scheduled to meet with the funeral director tomorrow to make arrangements. I'll keep you updated as well as I can.

Thanks to everyone who is sending well wishes and prayers our way. I'm not ashamed to tell you that we need them right now. We're holding it together as best as we can here but everywhere around are things to remind us what we have lost.

Originally we had thought that Mom was at home when she started having trouble and drove herself to the hospital. She drove to the hospital, parked her car, locked it and went into the emergency room. Once in the lobby, she lost consciousness and collapsed. The staff were unable to revive her. She never regained consciousness and died shortly thereafter. The staff tried to call my dad, who was at work, and were unable to reach him. They then called my mom's brother, my uncle Mike. He drove into Mt. Pleasant and had them get my dad. Uncle Mike told him that my mom was gone.

It turned out that she never made it home after work. My mom worked her shift at the hospital and started to come home. When she started having trouble, she turned back around and drove back to the hospital. This answered any lingering questions about why she'd driven herself to the hospital instead of calling an ambulance. We figured this out when my dad and my uncle drove down to the hospital to pick up her car. She always had something to eat waiting for my dad when he got home from work. When my dad got into her car to drive it home, there was a styrofoam container on the passenger seat. He opened it and found food that she was bringing home for him. If she'd made it home, she'd have taken the food inside.

Funeral arrangements will be made through Elliot Chapel in New London, Iowa. We're thinking a weekend service so that her co-workers will have the option to attend but nothing is set yet. I'll post more when we solidify arrangements.

If you're a church goer, light a candle for my mom. We miss her.

Agony

I'm sorry to inform you that my mother, Linda Eileen Harris, died yesterday. I wish I had more to say right now, but I'm still reeling from the shock. I've only known that she's been gone for a couple of hours and I'm heartsick.

I do not know much at this point. Arrangements will be made and I'll try to keep everyone updated on what is going on. I only know that I feel like my world is ending. I hurt so much but I'm trying to hold it together because I know she is with my brother right now and that she's so happy to see him. I want to rejoice in that knowledge but all I can think is, "Oh, God...what will I ever do without her?"

Meet Harley

Harley stayed with us for two weeks. She made Furio and Meme absolutely crazy. More Meme than Furio, actually. She's not a cat cat...if you know what I mean. Every time one of my cats would get within five feet of her, she would hiss and spit and raise a commotion. For the first few days, Meadow tried SO hard to be her friend. She pestered her to absolutely no end. Then one day, Harley was sitting on the bed with me and Meadow was in the doorway between the kitchen and bedroom just sort of daydreaming. Harley meowed to get Meme's attention and when Meme looked up at her, Harley crawled up into my lap and rolled over on her back...just totally hamming it up. From that moment, IT...WAS...ON. Meme went from, "Hey, another cat! Please be my friend." to "I hate that bitch and she hate me." Poor Furio had no idea what was going on. He didn't want to be anybody's friend and he didn't pester anybody but every time he went to the water dish, there was drama. Now he is way bigger than Meme and quite a bit bigger than Harley but he's the biggest chicken I've ever seen. He'd back down every time Harley even looked at him mean. Whenever you'd hear the hissing and growling and spitting that indicated Meme and Harley had inadvertently crossed each others' paths, he'd have to see what was going on...but you'd only see his eyeballs or the tips of his ears as he peeked out from behind something. No way was he getting inbetween those two. Ahh...good times.

Anyway, Harley stayed at our house while we were out searching for her owners. My friend, Leigh, had found her outside of her house and asked if we could watch her for a couple of days. We put up posters all over the neighborhood and put up ads on the internet. I called every no-kill shelter in the Chicagoland area but no one would take her. The Treehouse Animal Foundation called back and asked a bunch of questions stating that they might have room for her and that someone would call me back. Yeah...right. VERY
UNPROFESSIONAL. I'm still mad about that. At the time we thought she might be in pain because it looked like she might have a hip injury. As we had her longer, we realized it was an old injury that hadn't healed quite right. But, anyway, I'm still really mad that they didn't have the courtesy to call me back and tell me that they didn't have room for her. At least the other places told me that they didn't have room for her and suggested other places to try. Yeesh.

Anyways, moving on...after two weeks we were afraid that she'd just been abandoned. We were sure she wasn't a "professional" street cat. She was completely de-clawed, was super friendly with people and would only eat canned cat food. She'd obviously been well taken care of. Leigh began making plans to take Cat (as I called her at that time...original, I know. What do you want? She answered to it and she really liked it when I sang that "Cat Ballou" song to her.) into her apartment and introduce her to her multitude of cats. Then at nearly midnight on a Saturday night, we got a message on our answering machine. Someone said she thought she knew Cat. It turns out that Cat aka Harley's parents had been in Thailand! They'd gotten home on that Saturday and had asked their friend Amanda if she had seen Harley, who had apparently gotten out when their pet sitter was there to feed them. Amanda had seen our signs but hadn't realized Harley was missing. The next day, Ravital and Pete (Harley's parents) called us and came over to pick her up. One big happy ending. Cue the sappy music.

A funny sidenote...the entire time Harley was staying with us, Mike complained about having an extra cat in the house. Extra food to buy, extra litterbox to change - cat animosity....cat girls gone wild? Whaaaaat? When I would mention doing something, like putting adoption feelers out in Iowa and/or Michigan, Mike would kinda pout and say things like, "I just don't feel like this should be our responsibility." Meaning transporting said cat out of state and calling all these shelters etc. Nevermind that this cat friggin' loved him. She was all about Mike and he would lay in bed with her talking baby talk. (But then the next morning, he'd be like, "Did you call Leigh? When is she going to come and get her?") He's such an enigma. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAnyway, Ravital and Pete came to pick her up and they gushed and made a big deal about thanking us for taking care of her. They brought us chocolates from Thailand and offered us free massages (they're both massage therapists...can you say 'jackpot'?) They kept thanking us and Mike said, "Oh, no problem. We loved having her."

What...the...?

I wanted to turn around and be like, "You lying bitch!" But I just smiled and went along.

Anyways, today is August 16th and as such, I must (it is required by law) wish Happy Birthday!!! to both my big brother, Jeffrey and my mother-in-law, Sandy (Mike's mom in case you're confused.) Holla back, yo!

P.S. Next time you see him, ask Mike how old his mom is. He has no friggin' clue. Actually he might now, because I told him. How sad is THAT! Geez.

How old are they you ask? Well, I'm not telling. But I'll give you some hints - you see if you can figure it out.

Memorable Events from the year Mike's mom was born:
Ronald Reagan married Nancy Davis. Sun Records in Memphis began releasing records. Hemingway published, "The Old Man and the Sea." The Detroit RedWings swept the Montreal Canadians to win the Stanley Cup. The Polish Constitution was adopted. Other notable births in this year: Christopher Reeve, Mr. Potato Head, Dan Akroyd, Jimmy Connors, Patrick Swayze and PeeWee Herman.

Memorable Events from the year my brother was born:
The Beatles movie, "Let It Be" premiers in the US. "Four dead in Ohio" as the National Guard kills four people at Kent State. Peter Queen quit Fleetwood Mac to join a religious cult. The voting age is lowered to 18. Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix both die from drug overdoses within a couple of weeks of each other - both are only 27. John Wayne wins an Oscar. Earth Day is celebrated for the first time. Other notable births in this year: Andre Agassi, Uma Thurman, Secreteriat (the horse that won the Triple Crown), Malcolm Jamal Warner, River Phoenix and Kelly Ripa.

Figure them out yet?

Cindi's survey responses.

What is the first thing you remember (the very first)?
Vaguely: Going to visit my Grandpa Parker in the long term care facility in the Henry County Memorial Hospital (as it was called then)

Clearly: Bringing my little brother home from the hospital and being mad because I couldn't hold him. (Also being disappointed that he wasn't a girl.)

What is the first thing you thought of today upon rising?
"Mike smells good." Followed immediately by, "Today is Furio's birthday, I have to buy kitty treats."

Name something you might be ashamed or embarrassed to admit to owning?
William Shatner's CD (Mike says that for Scott this should be that Spice Girls CD)

What exciting thing has happened to you in the last 6 mo's.?
Getting married.

Do you have a 401 (k)?
Uh...kinda.

What smell do you most enjoy?
Freshly mowed grass. It reminds me of home.

Do you know the definition of concupiscent? (Without looking it up)
Oh! I do, I do! Although I think it is concupiscence...

Do you have a résumé?
Oh yeah, a power resume.

What did you eat for dinner last night?
A frozen pizza.

What is you favorite city?
Chicago

If you could have all the money you could ever need, what would you do with it?
Spend 1/3, Save 1/3 and give 1/3 away.

What is your favorite curse word?
Peckerwood. I suppose it's not a real curse word in the traditional sense...but it's fun to say.

Have you seen the Grand Canyon?
Only from an airplane

What noise do you hate?
I have to agree with Kelly here and say people clearing their throat.

What noise do you love?
My cats purring.

What was the name of your first friend?
Denise Donaldson

Do you still know this person?
No.

Do you pray?
Yes.

Can you play chess?
Yes but I'm the anti-Bobby Fischer.

Tea or coffee?
Tea. Hot Vanilla Chai Tea Latte, to be precise.

Describe what you are most proud of that you have accomplished and why?
Graduating from college. I was the first person on my dad's side of the family to get a bachelor's degree.

Give ME a break...

I still have not received my first check from unemployment yet. I called today and they told me that a check had been issued on July 18th and that if I hadn't received it by next Tuesday they can reissue it.

Then later on I received a letter from the unemployment office that they sent yesterday. Apparently, there has been a question raised about my availability for work the last couple of weeks...whatever that means. I still haven't been able to get ahold of the guy on the paper so he can explain what it means. What I know it DOES mean is that I now have to interview with Mr. Charles Johnson to settle this issue. They'll call me and ask me some questions and then tell me whether or not I'm still eligible. If I'm not eligible, I'll have to give them back the check they've supposedly sent to me. Great. Why can't anything be EASY?

I'll try and call again tomorrow to figure out what I'll have to have when they call or when I go into their office, since the time they scheduled my interview for is a time when I plan to be in Iowa visiting my parents. If EWU is trying to get out of paying me a puny little amount of unemployment over this two month period, I swear that I'm going to quit. I already work way too hard for the amount that they pay me. But I'm getting ahead of myself...maybe they had nothing to do with it. It's always possible I hit a wrong button when I certified via telephone last week and that this will be a quick thing to correct.

What really frosted my cookie was the fact that they supposedly sent a check on the 18th that I still haven't gotten. But when they question my eligibility, I got that m-fer the NEXT DAY. It makes me want to go out in the back yard and yell swear words at the top of my lungs.

I guess it's a good thing Mike and I like pasta. We may be eating a lot of it. Feh.

And they call it kitty love

Merely snuggling? Or comforting each other in the aftermath of a disaster (aka Caleb)? You decide.

He is gone

Caleb is on a train.

Furio is relaxing for the first time in nine days.

The house is quiet...it looks like a hurricane has been through, but it's quiet.

No one is complaining about anything.

I don't hear video games or rap music.

No one is asking me to cook pasta.

What the heck do I DO now?

Gimme a break...

The bad news this week is that my skeletal structure is no longer intact. I had an MRI on Wednesday that showed an inch-long hairline fracture on my right humerus near the shoulder.
The pain has gone down considerably since last week and I'm able to raise my arm up and to the side without too much trouble. I'm supposed to have it in a sling for a few weeks, but that is more uncomfortable and I hate the feeling of looking like a gimp.

There'll be no kickball for me for 3 weeks. The team keeps rolling on though. Caleb is in town and he and I cheered on our team to a 6-3 win.

This weekend we went to see Pirates 2 (I slept through much of it) and Hammond's Festival of the Lakes where I also had to inspect a bunch of food vendors.

Kickball fe-vah!

For those who were not in the room when I told the story, what Mike is referencing in his last blog entry is the time that he went outside, upstairs and to a bar with our neighbor/Mike's kickball captain, Jason. He was gone from about 3 in the afternoon (when the kickball game ended) until roughly 11:30 pm or midnight. He didn't stay out really late or anything...but it was clear that he has spent that entire eight to nine hour period boozing it up. He was skunk drunk when he staggered in. This was rather amusing in and of itself. However, the greatest entertainment of the night was to be the fact that he got home, came in through the back door and went right into the bedroom. I went to stand in the doorway and Mike was sitting on the bed taking off his tennis shoes. He looked up and saw me and the only thing that he said was, "I don't feel too good." He then fell into bed. I don't mean that in the sense that he was so tired he went straight to bed that night. I mean, the man literally *fell* into bed. He turned, looked down at the pillow and did a total face plant. He didn't move again for seven hours when it was time for him to get up and go to work.

There is definitely kickball fever in the air on Dickens St. these days. There are five people living in our building and four of the five people are on the kickball team. I'm the odd (wo)man out. The team only requires one girl for the team and I'm glad to turn that responsibility over to Sara who lives upstairs. I have, however, gotten finagled into the position of "official scorekeeper." That is my small but valuable contribution to the team. After the games, some of us congregate in the backyard for grilling/beer drinking and the kickball captain makes a lot of comments like, "We're f-ing awesome! We're easily the best kickball team in the league. Mike, buddy, you're my f-ing ace in the hole. You're an f-ing all-star, dude." It's funny as hell.

Anyway, as you have all (probably) read, Mike is on the all-star team. There will be much beer drinking and partying (for which I am not eager to shell out money). Therefore, I am tentatively organizing the first annual Feline Bachelor Charity Auction benefiting the Save the Beers Foundation. Mr. Furio Giunta-Cat Kurczewski has agreed to be our first celebrity bachelor and I'm hoping to get Silvio Dante Potter and Louie Potter to agree to participate as well. If I'm unable to snag the Potter Felis domestica then I will switch to a raffle which I will call, "Win a Date with Mr. Giunta." Tickets will sell for $2 a piece or 6 for $10. If this also fails to garner the necessary funds (although I do not see how it possibly could...Mr. Giunta is undoubtably handsome and in demand) then Mr. Giunta has proposed selling "protection." Give us money and he (and MeMe) won't be forced to mess up you...or your house. Have you seen our chairs? Don't give them a reason! Plus...he's got canine muscle...Delilah, Talulah, Chloe and Scarlett...and these bitches (what? they're all female!) will mess....you....up.

Send money. We know where you live.

Hey now, you're all all-star...

For those of you anxiously awaiting the results of our kickball game on Sunday, we whupped the Rhinestone Cowboys 24-3. This win puts us at 3-1 and into first place with the team we lost to at the beginning of the year. We have the tiebreaker because we've scored the most runs so far. Because we're the first place team in our division at this point, our team captain will be coaching one of the teams. 3 players from each team get to play in the all-star game and I'm one of those picked to play from our team. Yay!

The post-game BBQ was fun and I'd like to announce that I did not end up face down in bed mumbling, "I don't feel too good" to Cindi afterwards. Good times.

Over and out.

A cool picture I took in Florida...

In memory of those who wait for us on other shores...

(If you can't read the text, right click on the picture to see an enlarged version)

Get a job, ya (beach) bum!

Mike on the beach at CocoCay, Bahamas. April, 2006













Mike on the beach at Daytona Beach, Florida. July, 2006

Dirge Without Music - a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Dirge Without Music

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts
in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time
out of mind.
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the
lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not
resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, - but the best is
lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the
laughter, the love, -
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses.
Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know.
But I do not approve.
More prcious was the light in your eyes than all
the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the
grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the
kind.
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the
brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not
resigned.

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

Today....

Today is the anniversary of my brother's death. His name was Matthew. He was my baby brother. He died when he was 22, although he'd be 25 today. He was my best friend. I thought he was invincible. I was wrong. Here are just a few things that I've learned in the last three years. I thought I would share them with all of you.

Today is the anniversary of my brother's death and I can tell you that people who say, "time heals all wounds" are full of bull. Time may cover the wound with a scab but wounds like these never heal. The best you can hope for is that it's clean and doesn't hurt every day.

Today is the anniversary of my brother's death and I have noticed that the stories you tell about a person after they're gone never cease to be funny. For instance, once when we were little, my family was driving into town when we noticed that one of our distant neighbors were moving in a manufactured home. They had set the house up on cement blocks and my mom said to my dad, "I wonder what they've got that house up on blocks for." My (quite young) little brother piped up from the back seat, "Well, they gotta raise the house to meet the steps."

Today is the anniversary of my brother's death and saying good-bye is hard. When I came home from graduate school to visit my brother, I sat with him for awhile on the last day of the weekend. Mike went out to get the car and my parents were coming in later - so we were alone, Matt and I. I waited until the nurses had given him a sedative to help him rest because I didn't want him to see me leave. Once he was asleep, I went over and touched him. I said, "Good-bye, Matty. I love you." and walked out of the room. Then I'd get halfway down the hall and turn around and come back. I'd touch him again and say, "Goodbye, Matty. I love you." I did this about (no lie) eight times. I'd get halfway down the hall and think, "What if this is the last time I see him?" It was.

Today is the anniversary of my brother's death and I am here to tell you that flatulence CAN be funny....especially when you start tooting to annoy your sister and you inadvertently "exceed the maximum capacity" of your underpants.

Today is the anniversary of my brother's death and I know that between us we had several genius ideas before they were famous. For instance, my brother was "Goldweiner" long before Austin Powers faced down Goldmember. Granted, Matt's nickname was due to his penchant for dachshunds rather than an unfortunate smelting accident. The best was when he'd lay Chloe across his arm, stroke her back in villainesque manner, and say, "No, Mr. Bond...I expect you...to....die." Matt was also the original "Captain Underpants." A few days of lazing around in his tighty whities inspired the family to give him the moniker, "Underpants Man." Rather than being offended and always one to go in with a good joke, he soon gave Underpants Man more nemesis....es (what is the plural of that? Nemesi?)...than he knew what to do with. Including the ever popular, "Tuxedo Man" and "Fully Dressed Boy."

Today is the anniversary of my brother's death and I've learned that moms really mean it when they tell you they'd take your place rather than see you suffer.

Today is the anniversary of my brother's death and it's glaringly obvious that people who've never lost someone close to them can never understand...no matter how hard they may want to.

Today is the anniversary of my brother's death and to this day whenever I see feuding siblings on Judge Judy, I cry - because they've got what I want and they don't even appreciate it!

Today is the anniversary of my brother's death and I've found that memories are a poor substitute for a deceased loved one. When Matt died, so many people told me, "Well, at least you have some great memories." Yeah, I do. I have tons of happy memories...but what I really want is my brother back. I hated when people said that and so I make a point never to say it to others.

Today is the anniversary of my brother's death and my upstairs neighbor is convinced that he still visits me. She thinks so because I semi-regularly have an odd dream. Or hallucination. Or, if you believe in that sort of thing, ghostly visits. I wake up, only I'm not really awake-awake. I'm floating in the ether between sleep and awake...and I see him sitting on the edge of my bed. I mumble something along the lines of, "What are you doing in my room, spaz?" Then something clicks in my brain and I realize that Matt can not possibly be in my room and I bolt wide awake to see an empty spot on the bed. While I am pretty sure that his appearance has more to do with a wistful mind than other-worldly influence, it's nice to think that maybe he stops by sometimes.

Today is the anniversary of my brother's death and even though I'm not convinced that he visits me, I did get an email from "beyond his grave." (Cue the spooky music.) Once, about six months after his death, a yahoo glitch somehow either resent a message or marked it as "unread" so it popped up in my inbox. I'll give you a sample of the very beginning and the very end...which will show you both why I loved and miss him so much and why the email itself was sort of spooky. By the way, the language is slightly salty...so prepare yourself. :) Originally, I censored it to be PG-13 but then I thought about it and that would have been offensive...so here he is in all his slightly vulgar glory.

(BEGINNING)

Hey Skip Spence... whats up my moby grapian friend? If you knew ANYTHING about acid bands of the 60s you would be laughin' your ass off at that, trust me. I am one witty mutha, or brutha if you will.

Sorry about missin' ya while you're on, I was asleep in the chair about 10:30. Remember when mom told ya I was having those bad tummy pains, well, I slept A LOT, while that shit was goin' on, and it whacked out my schedule a bit, and I'm still sleeping more than normal, but my hours are more normal....like 8am to 10pm normal, which is fuckin' trippy. But alas, that t'is thee thy reason for not being around. You'se digs my complications, eh?......

(END)

Ok, this is the last paragraph homes, be good, and I'll try to be around tomorrow evening.....maybe about 9:30. If you ain't here, no problems, I'll catch ya another time, and I'll work on my hours so we catch each other more ok? Be good......Your Brutha,Lil Chu

Today is the anniversary of my brother's death and you will never convince me that dogs don't have feelings. Matt's little dachshund, Chloe, still looks for him to show up every day. When he got sick and went to the hospital and for some time after he died, I would sometimes see her lying in his spot on the couch, waiting for him to come and sit with her or whining outside of his bedroom door - unable to understand why he didn't open up and let her in.

Today is the anniversary of my brother's death and the best piece of advice I have to offer you is to hug those you love every day and tell them that you love them. Never let a day go by without sharing your feelings.

Today is the anniversary of my brother's death.

For Matt (12/16/80 - 06/24/03)

Rumors

One of the math teachers, with whom I share an office, has been missing for a couple of weeks. We've all been worried. Of course, the rumors have been flying for a few days now. I haven't put any stock in any of them because I haven't found any truth to them in the news or on the internet.

Today I found out that the latest one was true. They pulled his body out of a river. I still haven't been able to find anything about it on the internet, but administration has confirmed the rumor. He's gone. They held a funeral for him over the weekend.

No word yet on whether it was accidental.

I feel sick.

Allow me to retort

First of all, did you just call me dude?

Second of all, it's Silas. (Get it right, moron) ;) Also - still weirdly hot.

Yes, you must compete with J. D. Fortune...if he's straight. There were a couple of moments at the concert that made me put him under homo-suspicion. And it's short for Jason Dean (Fortune being his real last name), thankyouverramuch. I'll bet he's saying, "What kinda weiner name is Mike Kurczewski?"

I feel like I don't even know you anymore...

Cindi. Dude. Come on. Paul Bettany was freaking GROSS as what's-his-name in the DaVinci Code. I just read a blurb on AOL about how Albinos are pissed off because of his character in the film. These people really need to get a clue and a life. Catholics are mad, albinos are mad. What's next? If you don't like it, don't watch it. It was an awesome movie. Get over yourself and move on because no one cares. It seems like everyone has to be complaining over something that is outright ridiculous. It's a movie. Movies are NOT real.

Second of all, not only do I have to compete with Johnny Depp (a formidable foe), but now JD Fortune? What kind of stupid weiner name is that?

I had an odd experience at work the other day. I was inspecting a bar and there was an over-served "gentleman" at the bar. When I told the bartender who I was he made a joking comment about having crabs and needing to be checked out. Hardy har. Also, while I was sitting down writing my report he commented multiple times on the "nice butt" of the lady sitting next to him, only not using those exact words. But wait, this isn't even the weird part yet.
While I'm inspecting the bar, a small Mexican man with a cowboy hat had managed to lock himself into the men's bathroom because of some weird deal with the door lock. This still isn't the weird part, hold on, I promise I'm getting to it.

So after I finish the inspection and the writing up of the report, "Mr. Drunk Guy with a butt fetish" walks up to me with his car keys in hand offering them to me. He was drunk yes, but he was dead serious about me driving his Chevy SSR truck. My face had to have looked like I was trying to read a Greek book. I was puzzled why this man who I did not know and did not know me, wanted me to test drive his car. I asked him if he needed a drive home because he had too much to drink and he said that he lived next door. "Come on, it's got 400 horsepower," was his argument when I told him that I couldn't. I think he walked back to the bar stool disappointed. Maybe he let the woman sitting next to him drive it, I don't know.

Thinking about it driving home I thought it would have been cool to peel out with that bad boy, though.

Access restricted!

So I paid off my library card fines today. Actually Mike and I both paid off our fines today. Between us (ok...mainly me), we had nine overdue books. Our fine total came to $12.40. That's right...we're serious, big-time delinquents! I think we came this \-----/ close to making the FBI's most wanted list.

Speaking of cats....uh....were we? Anyways, last night Mike and I were discussing how Meme's favorite Piston is Tayshaun Prince. The problem is, since she's so little (just a baby, really!)...she has trouble saying his name. She has the same problem saying Orlando Bloom. Yes...Michael and I have truly had conversations discussing our cat's speech impediment. We really need a hobby, I know. (You wouldn't believe the elaborate life story that Furio has...he's seriously a cat on the go!) The best part of this, though, is that there is a grown man in my apartment speaking in a baby-voice falsetto saying "Taysaw Pince" and "Lando Boom." The other day, I was in the kitchen when I heard the following come from the living room where Meme, Furio, Mike and our friend Melody were watching Game 7: "I like that Taysaw Pince, daddy. He fine." It's the funniest thing, ever. I really need to buy a video camera. Is there some form of "America's Funniest Home Videos" still in existence? We'd win 10 grand for sure.

Tomorrow night I'm going to go see the new INXS. I'm fairly excited about it. This ticket was my wedding gift from a friend at work. I like J. D. Fortune, the new lead singer, a lot. Mostly because he's cute...but that counts!

I must go snuggle my cats. G'night!

I *heart* Paul Bettany

Mike and I went to see the DaVinci Code and I have to say that Paul Bettany can look good even as a murderous albino monk. Mike's fairly enraptured with the flick and I must admit that I enjoyed it. I am, however, much more enamored of the original book than I am with the movie. Definitely worth a viewing - I'll even let Mike buy me the movie on dvd when it comes out. :D But make sure you read the book.

My house is a pit! A total pig sty - but I feel so totally great about it. It's a work in progress. I've decided to get rid of everything that I don't use. I brutally went through my closet and ousted anything that hadn't been worn in the last three months. Well, ok, not everything. As I told my mom, my little brother's old shirts are going to continue to hang in the closet for awhile longer. I had them out on the bed and even in the "goodwill" pile, telling myself that I almost never wore them. They hung in the closet until I needed something overlarge to lounge around in. I packed up all the other clothes into boxes and then I stared at those shirts. I picked one of them up and I outlined all the reasons I should get rid of them. They have small holes in them. They don't fit - they're way too big. They aren't fit to wear outside of the house. I almost never wear them. I slipped the shirt I was holding over my head and put it on. Then I picked up the other shirts and hung them in the closet.

Anyways, my cloak room is spotless and beautiful! My closet is streamlined and the rest of the house is on it's way to being so. Of course, right now I also have boxes stacked all over the front room. Like I said, it's a work in progress.

Well, until next time.....Go to bed! It's dark out!

2 out of 3 ain't bad

Fistfights. Mosh pits. Blood. Cussin'. Outlaw country music. Heavy metal. Booze. What else would you expect from a Hank Williams III show?

I saw all of that and more on Sunday night. The opening band was Bob Wayne and the Outlaw Carnies. Great band name and they played some great music as well.

Hank 3 opened with an amazing opening set of songs mainly taken from his newest cd. He also sprinkled in a few songs by his daddy and granddaddy as well. His band was smoking hot! The pedal steel guitarist could really play, and his fiddle player was out-of-this-world.

Country Hank

After about an hour and a half, Hank announced that the country band was leaving the stage to make way for his heavy metal band. Hank exchanged his cowboy hat for a Confederate flag trucker cap, his western shirt for a leather vest, and his acoustic guitar for an electric. The transformation had begun.

Metal Hank

Unfortunately, his metal music isn't as great as his country stuff. It was still quite entertaining though. The crowd on the floor began to mosh and go nuts. Hank had a metal dude from Chicago up on stage with him. Apparently his function was to yell like a maniac along to each song. Within a minute of getting onstage, somehow the guy was down on the floor. When he came up, the top of his head was busted open with quite a gash that looked like it would require stitches. After this, with no regard for the blood pouring down his face, he starts jumping out into the crowd and body surfing.

A fight nearly broke out after a few guys went from moshing to throwin' 'bows. One guy's face was busted up and bleeding. They jawed at each other for a few minutes and security escorted them both out. On with the show.

The metal band played for about an hour. I'm surprised that I made it that long. It was worth it though, as Hank came out and signed autographs after the show. I was in the back of the venue contemplating leaving before the show had finished. After the last song, I weaseled my way back up front to get my ticket stub signed.

Last year, Scott and I saw Hank Jr. That makes one Hank to go and see. The original. Unfortunately, he's been gone a long time. Maybe we'll get to see his grave in Alabama someday when I take my long-planned blues tour of the South.

Promotions, Parties and Propaganda

The bad news is that I was notified the other day that I didn't get the Cook County Epi position. I thought the lady that interviewed me did a nice thing by mailing me another position but it turns out that I don't have all of the necessary qualifications. I guess I should feel good that I must have made a decent impression for her to do that.

The good news is that our Health Officer approached me last week with a grant-position promotion as a Public Health Coordinator for the Health Department. It's looking to be a good possibility that within a few weeks I'll be starting this endeavor.

After 9/11, every state was given money for bioterrorism and emergency response and preparedness. The state gets a chunk of money and that gets filtered down to the local health departments. Basically, the job is kind of like a liason between the state and local health department.

Financially, it was really hard for me to pass up the opportunity. It looks like there will be quite a bit of work at the beginning as we're basically starting from scratch. There's some training and travel as well for state, local and even national meetings. My main concern was that I would keep my status as a city worker and not a contract worker without benefits. The only drawback is that it is a grant position so each year we need to reapply for the grant. If for whatever reason, the government cut the program, I would have to go back to my previous position or I'd have to find another job if that position was filled.

I did feel a little strange about accepting the job for two reasons, but I talked to Cindi about it, and she said I should give it a shot. First of all, we already are short on inspectors and it's going to be tough on them without my help. There's only three of us now and one may be moving out of the area by the end of the year. I'm hoping that the other inspectors don't resent the fact that I was picked for this job because it will increase their workload.

Second of all, is the money issue. It feels weird to me that I will be making more than anyone else and I'm one of the newest people there. There's some people that have worked there for a good portion of their adult life.

I suppose that in the end, I have to do what's best for me and Cindi and put my needs first before the department and not fret about it. I know that you're supposed to look out for numero uno but I'm not used to looking at things that way.

I'm not sure what Cindi expects me to reveal about my "bachelor party." Usually it's don't ask, don't tell, and no pictures. I figure that whatever I won't say, she will. It was a fun time though and I survived. I think my face probably had a permanent red hue throughout the party though. One of the ladies sat me down on a chair in front of everyone and showered me with gag gifts and things of that nature. Our health officer paid for dinner and drinks for everyone, so that was extremely nice of him. I think he kind of felt sorry for me having to go through the embarrasment but I'm a pretty good sport.

Spring Break Blues

I got my first official wedding present today. Actually apparently the psycho upstairs neighbors got my first official wedding present. They left it in the storeroom outside of our back door. Getting a "first official wedding present" was almost worth Mikes waking me up at 7:00 this morning when he discovered it there. Almost. I mean, it's friggin' SPRING BREAK. Hello? Does sleep ring a bell?

Speaking of weddings...mine is less than a month away. More like three weeks and two days...and I think I may be a little stressed. WE may be a little stressed. Tempers are short and even the cats are on edge around here. We have to make an effort to remember that we're stressed out and that we can't yell at each other about little stuff just because we're stressed. For example, the other day, Mike was pre-boarding us for our honeymoon and I was sitting on the couch grading papers or something and we had an argument because I had registered under Lucinda Harris which would no longer be my legal name. Silly things.

It is indeed my spring break and I am spending it working. Unfortunately, my spring break also is the "Between quarters" break. So I have to have three new syllabi prepared and chapters read in three different textbooks before Monday. I got sorta bullied into teaching a class I wasn't really interested in. They cancelled my speech class which dropped me from three down to two classes. This wasn't really a problem, though, because they had a Latin American Literature class still available and I emailed saying I'd take that class provided it would work with my schedule. The class scheduler emailed me back and said they had a class called "East-West Signature" that was about to become open. The class is required of all students before they can graduate and the current session was completely full and they still had people who needed to register so they were going to open a second section of the class. I emailed back and said I'd really rather have the literature class. She emailed back and said that the director of the department had recommended me for the signature class. Translation: Signature course, here I come. The problem is, the head of the department has recently found out that I have a Liberal Studies degree rather than simply an English degree. True, a majority of my classes were literature and English classes but I am fully qualified to teach theology and humanities as well. The signature course is a higher level course, so I suppose I should be flattered that they offered it to me. I'm not. It entails me reading a book called, "Guns, Germs and Steel" by a guy named Jared Diamond. I had to laugh because this is a book we already have a copy of. Mike bought this book for his own pleasure reading. At first I wasn't dreading this so much because Mike had the book and I thought, "No problem. Mike can help me get through the book and understand it blah, blah, blah." Then I suggested Mike go through the book and familiarize himself with everything and finish reading it. When he said, "I've tried...like...three times to read that book"....my heart sank. I'm going to be going through a book that my educated, brilliant boyfriend can not finish....with Chicago's inner city youth. Oh yeah. This'll be great. Good times.

School has been stressing me out anyways. Thankfully, the quarter finished up last week. I turned grades in and started working on getting materials gathered for this quarter. I sat down to add a "few details" to my syllabus and have written what is well on it's way to being a multi-paged manifesto. I'm going to have to do a little trimming on it. It's good therapy but I'm fairly certain that administration would not approve of me starting it with the words "I swear to God I will fail your ass if..." It's really sad that I have to put some of this stuff down on paper - it should be common sense. For instance, "it is not ok to come to class 45 minutes late, sign the attendance sheet and then leave." and my personal favorite, "between the hours of midnight and 6am, calling my home phone is off limits."

Next time I promise to blog about Mike's "bachelor" party with his co-workers. It was a riot. It's a story that involves handcuffs, a feather boa, many many drinks and a cake shaped like breasts.

It's true...

It's true...all the pretty girls want to kiss Mike. Should I be jealous?

Future father of the year?

Last weekend, Mike and I had brunch with Siobhan and her daughter, Laiba. Laiba is about four months old now and quite a smiley baby she is. I spent a fair portion of the meal holding her and asking Mike, "Wanna hold the baby, Mikes?" He, on the other hand, spent his time laughing nervously and saying, "Heh...That's ok." Halfway through the meal, Siobhan took Laiba and fed her. Apparently she got too much milk because shortly after they returned to the table, Laiba "urped" and spit up a little bit. Now I do not have children of my own but I've been around one or two. My nephew used to get nauseated whenever I picked him up. No sooner would I pick him up than he'd be tossing his cookies all over my shirt. While Siobhan cleaned up her shirt and wiped the baby's mouth with a napkin, I peeked over at Mike. I could literally read the thoughts crossing his mind from the look on his face. I just KNEW he was thinking, "Oh my God...is she touching that with her bare hand? Oh that is just GROSS!" I laughed and told Siobhan that I should have made him hold her before because there was no way he would pick her up now. It turns out I was wrong. He did pick her up. I was holding her when it came time to leave and I made him hold her while I slid out of the booth and stood up. THIS was the best part of the whole day. He took her and held her out as FAR away from his body as he could get as if she was filled with dynamite. I can only hope that any kids we have are born about 3 years old. No fuss, litter muss....otherwise I may be on my own.

Bring back that blogging feeling

I don't really have anything witty for you at this time. Cindi says that I'm lazy for not blogging recently, but I'm all about having a topic.

Tomorrow night my co-workers are throwing me a pre-wedding party at a restaurant. It was supposed to be a Bachelor-type party but seeing that I work with nearly all women, that wouldn't quite be right. I'm not sure what will be in store exactly. Hopefully Cindi will be coming with me.

Friday is my birthday. I'll be celebrating by not eating meat. Whaa!

Saturday morning I will be attempting to get tickets for the greatest rock band in the free and non-free world, Pearl Jam. Having 2 shows in Chicago is awful tempting. Oh yeah, I gotta work for a few hours too. Whaa!

My birthday dinner will be post-poned until Saturday night when I can properly enjoy myself while consuming meat. I think we'll be going to Club Lucky, an Italian joint in nearby Bucktown.

I haven't heard anything yet from the Cook County job as far as a second interview. I hope to hear something soon about the two openings for the City of Chicago Health Dept.

Just an observation...

Am I intimidating? I've never really thought so but I suppose I am my mom's daughter. Ask anyone at the hospital where she works and they'll tell you that when they started (and almost all of them have been there less time than she has because she's been there next to FOREVER) and they'll tell you that they were scared of her for a few weeks. (Yeah, mom, I know..."Well, I don't know WHY. Do I seem that scary to you?") To which I can respond that Mike was, indeed, a bit terrified of her at first, too. Poor Mike kinda got ambushed by my family from the get-go. There had been some talk about Mike's...err...family background before he came to visit at my parents' house the first time. My brothers especially were curious as to whether Kurczewski was a Polish last name. At that time I had no idea exactly what his ethnic origins consisted of and I told my brothers he was probably part Czech or something. The LAST thing I wanted was them thinking they were cute telling Pollock jokes to him. Then the first night he met my family, we were playing trivial pursuit and my little brother, Matt, decided there was one way to find out exactly what his background was. He turns and says, "So, Mike...how many Pollocks does it take to..." I. Was. Mortified. I stared him down and mouthed, "Shut the hell up!" which naturally only encouraged him more. He said, "Whaaaaaaaaaaaat? YOU said he was Czech." Thank goodness Mike has a sense of humor. I don't have a point here...just an observation.

I must go get ready for the brunch we are having with my friend, Siobhan. I'm going to make Mike write something soon. He's so lazy!

May the road rise up to meet you...

Is a birthday really a birthday when you sit at home doing nothing? Well, yeah, of course it is. Man, I'm so bored! Have you ever seen that episode of Seinfeld where Kramer is alone all day in Jerry's apartment? That's what it's been like on Dickens Ave. today. Mike had to work today and with all the stuff going on at his job, I didn't push for him to take the day off. I've done laundry, watched two movies, read two books, watched Judge Mathis, played with the cats, written in my journal, taken a bath AND a shower, checked my email compulsively about 40 times, played Grand Theft Auto: Liberty City and nearly had a fist fight with Furio. The thing I haven't done is pull out all the grading I need to do. It's my birthday! No way am I grading essays.

Mike actually took me out for my birthday yesterday. We went for a very nice birthday dinner at the Outback and then he took me to the book store. Perhaps you didn't understand. Mike Kurczewski VOLUNTARILY TOOK ME TO BORDERS. When he suggested the trip while we were eating I nearly choked. Then I looked at him suspiciously and thought to myself, "Oh, hell. He's either losing his job, terminally ill or about to break up with me." Yes, I know - he's a nice man who does sweet things for me all the time. But we're talking bookstore. When he told me my limit was "no more than FOUR books," I was like "Who are you and where's the real Mike? You aliens think you can fool me with this pod people version of my boyfriend but I'm WAY too smart for you." I'm still waiting for him to peel his face off and reveal his true identity. I'll let you know...

We're going to a hockey game tonight. Go Blackhawks! They're giving away green Blackhawks hats and I must possess one. I must.

Mike "accidentally" woke me up too early today. His excuse was, "Oh yeah. I forgot you don't have to work today." Yeah. He just wanted a chance to do his usual...."How old are you? 29. How old am I? Oh, yeah....still only 28." That's is SO not amusing any more. It was cute when we were 22, 23, 24...but as I age, I appreciate it far less.

Oh! Mike got home early. I suppose I should go change out of my pajamas so we can get go to the hockey game. Yeah, that's right...It's 4pm and I'm still in my pajamas. Big whoop...wanna fight about it? Anywho, I'm off. I'll try and update more later.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

I solemnly swear that the testimony I am about to give...

To: Administration
CC: Dr. G., Dr. P., R.B. (Head of Security)
From: Me
Re: The incidents of 02-22-06 in the English tutoring office
Date: March 1, 2006


The Incidents of February 22

Student M approached English tutor, Ms. O at approximately 10:30 on the morning of February 22, 2006. Ms. O was tutoring that day and stationed at the front desk. I was not currently on the clock as a tutor but was sitting at the rear desk preparing for my classes. His manner was rather short and I remember this specifically because I thought that he addressed Ms. O in a rude style. Ms. O requested that he make the corrections suggested by his teacher and bring back a clean copy of his paper to her for further revisions. She attempted to explain to him the benefit of this method. He refused and insisted that she look at the paper as it was. While he was speaking to her, his voice was raised in volume and he continued to speak to Ms. O in an inappropriate manner. I came from my cubicle and, in an attempt to defuse the situation, advised Ms. O to go ahead and work with the paper in hand. At that time, I informed Student M that we were here to help him and that he was being hardheaded. I returned to my station and heard Student M tell Ms. O to give him his “shit” back. He left the office without further interaction. A few moments after he removed himself, Dr. G entered the office to speak with me regarding another matter. I advised Dr. G of the situation and the actions of both myself and Student M.

Approximately 15-25 minutes later, Student M returned to the office with a revised, clean copy of his essay. His manner was rigid but no longer as rude and angry as he had been previously. Ms. O and I worked with him for approximately two and a half to three hours, concluding at nearly two p.m. During this time, Student M made several remarks indicating that his teacher was not grading him fairly but was not discourteous to Ms. O or myself. I suggested that he speak with his teacher but he said that he felt he could not speak to her and that when he tried, she would “blow him off.” I informed him that, were he unhappy with his grade, he could appeal his class grade or ask to have his papers reviewed by Dr. G. He left our interaction on almost pleasant terms, thanked me for my help and advised us that he would return after making revisions to have his paper looked over again.

Student M did indeed return to the office. I entered the office at approximately four p.m. and he was working with Ms. O.H. (a different O. than before) on his paper. I spoke with him briefly and he asked me if Dr. G was in his office. I stated that it was my belief Dr. G would be gone because of the lateness of the hour and that he should wait to see what his grade was before speaking with him. Student M stated that he could/would not wait because he could not afford to fail the class. At this point his manner was tense but our interaction was quite civil. I walked Student M upstairs to show him where Dr. G’s office was located. It happened that Dr. G was in his office speaking with Ms. L. Despite the fact that Dr. G was obviously meeting with someone, he threw himself dramatically against the door and said, “Dr. G, I need your help!” He then opened the door and asked if Dr. G had time to meet with him. Dr. G advised him that he was meeting with Ms. L and then he would be leaving for the day. Student M asked if he could give Dr. G something to read at home that evening. Dr. G replied that he could and Student M left to collect his papers from downstairs. I spoke to Dr. G for a few moments and returned downstairs in time to see Student M leaving with his papers. At this time he shook my hand and thanked me for all of my help.

I sat down and began working again. A few minutes later, Ms. L came into the office and informed us that Student M had come into Dr. G’s office and insisted that Dr. G read his papers rather than taking them home with him. Approximately 15-20 minutes after Ms. L arrived in the office, Student M came through the door. At this point, I was standing in the middle of the office between the front and rear desks. Student M entered the office and immediately headed in my direction. He walked toward me and put his finger in the vicinity of my face stating that Dr. G had refused to read his paper and that it was my fault because I had unfairly prejudiced Dr. G against him by informing him of our conflict earlier that morning. He went on to say, still with his finger in my face, that I had provoked him by calling him “hardheaded.” At this point, Ms. L became involved in the conversation. I believe her intervention came both as a desire to speak on my behalf and as a result of her frustrations due to him interrupting her meeting with Dr. G. The situation quickly escalated as both parties raised their voices. Student M became increasingly aggressive, at one point making a fist and slapping it against his palm in Ms. L’s direction. At this point, I took Ms. L with me to speak with Dr. G. I wanted to inquire as to Dr. G’s reasons for, as Student M had stated to us, refusing to even read his paper. I took Ms. L with me in an attempt to separate them and defuse the situation.

When we arrived at Dr. G’s office, he was putting on his coat. I inquired as to what had transpired between the two gentlemen. Dr. G asked if he was still in the office. I informed Dr. G he was currently in the office working with Ms. O.H. Ms. L and I followed him down to the tutoring office. I was in the hall and did not visually see anything that transpired inside of the office. I heard Dr. G ask Student M if he was in the office bothering the tutoring staff. I heard no response and I did not see if Student M responded in any way with his body language. I then heard Dr. G state that he was going to contact security. Dr. G then left the office and headed down the stairs. I entered the office and sat down. Ms. L came to stand in the doorway but did not speak. Student M turned in Ms. L’s direction and said, “You trick ass bitch!” Ms. L angrily replied that he could not speak to her in that manner. He put his finger in her face and replied that he had “already stepped in some shit” and that he would “do whatever he pleased now.” Ms. L repeatedly told Student M to remove his hand from her face and advised him she would call security who would “have him out of here in under two minutes.” Student M refused to remove his hand and told her that she “thinks she has so much pull around here” but that she “wasn’t shit.” Ms. L left to get security and Student M followed her out of the office. During this last interaction between Ms. L and Student M he was not aggressive towards myself, although I find his behavior toward Ms. L to be inappropriate and quite aggressive. I was later told by Ms. L. that Student M had threatened the tutoring staff and herself by stating that, "He was going to jail tonight" because he intended to "beat someone's ass" and that we "had better watch our asses" when leaving campus at night.

I feel that disciplinary action is required in the case of Student M. Threats, whether stated or implied, should not be tolerated by {name of the school for which I work} . I am willing to testify in any hearing held by the administration. Thank you.

LLH

Return of the Living Unwed

I know, I know. Mike and I have been absolutely horrid about posting lately but you would not believe the crap that has been going on. Between the two of us we have suffered through job interviews, a coup d'etat at work, wedding dress fittings, bridesmaid dress issues, hotel reservation issues, unexpected wedding expenses, unexpected car expenses, wedding hair stylist issues, general financial bugaboos and an incident in which I was threatened by a student. Stay tuned for a proper update soon. I promise!

I got the Hippie Hippie Shakes

So Cindi says to me on the way home, "I'm really craving these scones that one of my co-workers brought in to work before. She gets them at Whole Foods. Any idea where there's one by us?" I told her that I hadn't seen one around and I really just wanted to get home. So we get home and the first thing Cindi does is pull out the phone book and I knew what was on her mind. Luckily, she didn't see me roll my eyes and attempt to hide my discontent. "It's at 3300 North Ashland. You know where that is?," she said. "Yep, let's go, we need some pop anyways," I muttered.

Whole Foods turns out to be an organic grocery store. Some of the things were quite interesting (ostrich burgers and filets) and expensive too. I felt like I entered hippie heaven. If Jerry Garcia was still alive and he lived in Chicago, he definitely wouldn't be afraid to shop there. He would have to go somewhere else for his Coca-Cola fix though, as it was nowhere to be found.

I walked around, separate from Cindi, checking out the meat items for sale and looking for some bagel chips. I thought I was talking to a different person when she came up to me and said how she saw some rosemary tofu at the salad bar that actually looked appetizing and that she wanted to try it. I made a face that said "go ahead, try it but don't expect me to."

We found some snack items like Belgian frites style potato chips, vegan chocolate chip cookies, bottled water, bbq chips, pita chips and a $4.39 bag of sea salt and pepper kettle chips. We must have looked like we were hanging out all weekend at a Phish concert or something.

The last purchase was truly magnificent. I carefully perused the beer selection and saw that they had tallboys of Fat Tire Amber Ale. Hallelujah! They just recently began supplying Chicago with their bodacious brew. Their beer selection was small but pretty decent.

All in all, I think we were sold on going back. I'll be going back to try out an ostrich burger with a Ben and Jerry's pint for dessert. They'll be no tofu for this cowboy.

Guitar God

"See ya in a bit Cindi. I'm off to Best Buy." Or so I thought. The trip to Best Buy took nearly two hours. What was my detour, you might ask? While walking by the video game section I heard the familiar strains of stadium rock from one of the try it before you buy it video screens. The game playing was Guitar Hero for Playstation 2. The controller is a small plastic replica of a Gibson SG guitar with 5 color buttons for the frets and a strum bar for the strings. The main section of the screen tells you which notes to play and when. I watched a young guy struggle through a song and have the video game "crowd" boo him off the stage. I HAD to try this game. I'm quite sure that I had the same look on my face as when I saw the BBQ pit in the store, but Cindi wasn't with me to verify that.

I started off with an easy song, "I Wanna Be Sedated" by The Ramones. I'm pretty sure that the version on the game is tougher than the actual guitar part in the song. I rocked through that song and several more. I played "I Love Rock N Roll" and got through that without too much trouble. I nearly got booed off the stage after the guitar solo in "Thunder Kiss 65."

I was really into this game. It's too bad that Best Buy was out of the game or I would have bought it immediately. I had the whole head bob and foot tap going. I resisted the urge to get up on the shelf racks and do a David Lee Roth-esque jump off of it with a Pete Townsend windmill strum on the landing. I wanted to duck walk down the aisle like Chuck Berry then light the guitar on fire a la Jimi Hendrix.

I'm putting the band back together. I'm on a mission from God. The man upstairs and I just need to wait until I get the game shipped in from Amazon.com. Rock on!

Corporate Sell Outs

Mikeandcindi.blogspot.com is now open for corporate advertising to the highest bidder(s). For the big players out there, we prefer Coke over Pepsi, Miller over Budweiser and GM over Ford.

Mike needs some extra money for a Plasma TV for the spare room and Cindi needs cash for a new designer purse and Sony PSP.

Cindi sent me an email she received from Liberty Tax Service. Apparently, one of their people did a web search and found their name on our blog. We got an email from them for a web site to get a $20 coupon off their services.

A church by any other name...ok, it isn't the same

There was a bit of an snafu regarding that church that Mike and I were going to be married in. Our officiant recommended a little convent chapel. We went and viewed the chapel, loved it, took lots of pictures and decided it was perfect! We went back to our friends' house and called the sisters to make arrangements. Our friend, Rachael, spoke to one of the sisters who said that this was a very busy time for them and that we should call back after Christmas. Ok. We decided to contact our officiant who had "contacts" within the convent. Christmas came and went and we still weren't exactly sure what was going on.

Finally, Rachael and I reached the point where we were like, "We just need to know. Yes or no...can somebody let us know what's going on?" The sisters were reluctant to have a wedding there, so it seemed. They weren't saying no but they wouldn't really commit to a yes either. Our contact with the convent told Rachael and I that they could probably "twist the sisters' arms" and get them to agree to have the wedding there but I am reluctant to begin my marriage by putting the hurt on nuns. Luckily, Rachael is resourceful and knows a lot of very, very nice people. They scouted out another church, sent us some pictures and reserved our wedding date.

So behold! This is the church in which Mike and I will be getting married on April 22, 2006. In the top picture, if you look closely enough you will see our friend, and Rachael's beloved husband, Aaron. He is waving. The picture was taken to show that even though the church has a cemetery in front, we could take wedding pictures outside without the gravestones showing.

The second picture is the inside of the church. One of our requirements for a church is that it be small-ish. We're not having a huge lavish wedding and so I wanted an intimate atmosphere. No sense having a ceremony attended by about 15-20 people in a venue that holds 1,000. Know what I mean?

Today I started looking at "memorial candles" for the wedding. I don't know why I put that in quotes...I just felt like it. Anyway, besides making me cry at work (which is never cool), they cost around $40! $40 to put my brother's name on a candle that would cost me (maybe) $5 at Wal-Mart. I guess it just proves that weddings are big business. Feh.

Well, I must finish preparing for my drama class which starts in 31 minutes. I'll end with another quote from one of my favorite playwrights, Wendy Wasserstein.

"Because of Mozart, it's all over after the age of seven." - W. Wasserstein

Goodnight Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are!

Ok, so it's not February 10th but who knows if I'll get a chance to post again on that exact date! This is close enough. But, Cindi...what's Feb. 10th? (I hear you ask) Why, my darling children, that is the birthdate of the late-great James Francis Durante...also known as The Schnoz. Yeah, that's right...I'm a bottomless well of useless factoid trivia. Big whoop, wanna fight about it?

I started this post earlier in between my classes today and it quickly turned into an "I hate everybody and teaching sucks!" rant. I found that I was tired and cranky. Deciding that perhaps tired and cranky was not the best mood to be in when one seeks to entertain...or at least inform, I decided to break for lunch. Then I got busy. Everybody and their dog is looking for me today. It's midterm week and all the lazies who haven't been to class in five weeks are trying to hunt me down and explain why they deserve a chance to turn in all the work they've missed. Not to mention that I gave my midterm exam in my "Intro to Drama" class. I have frantic phone calls from three students who missed the exam. Two had just been involved in car accidents and one girl has pink eye. So I called everyone back today and, with the proper documentation, they'll be able to make it up. I also got an e-mail from a student in one of my composition classes. He missed class today because he has tuberculosis but he's planning to be in class on Thursday. I was like, "Dude...STAY HOME." Geez.

But I'm off on a tangent...what was I talking about? Oh yeah...I hate teaching. Well, not really. But that's how I felt this morning. I hated everything this morning. Too many people trying to hunt me down, not enough time in the day to sleep, not enough money to buy a playstation portable (I swear that thing's going on my bridal registry!!!!) , not enough time to buy a donut before class, too much homework to grade, not enough room in my bag for all the junk I have to carry around...you name it and I complained about it in my head this morning. Then - to top it ALL off - we got copies of last semester's teaching evaluations in our mailboxes today. I picked mine up when I went to make copies of the quiz I'm giving tomorrow and groaned to myself. Last semester I was working full time at the museum and teaching a full load of classes. I was tired and cranky 98% of the time (it's true...ask Mike), I never had any time to prepare anything extra or (in my opinion) all that interesting for the classes, I was never at school unless I had to teach that day...I was sure that my students hated me last quarter. Or at least felt like I was completely incompetent. I mean, none of them took their classes seriously, I couldn't get anybody to read anything ahead of time for class and getting them to turn in homework was like pulling teeth! Whitney Houston may believe that these children are our future but I was NOT convinced. I decided that today couldn't POSSIBLY get any worse, so I tore open my evaluation envelope. Wonder of wonders...they freakin' LOVED me last quarter. I got a 4.81 out of 5 in my College Reading classes and 4.78 out of 5 for Speech! Not only that...but these kids (most of whom I wasn't sure were even literate) wrote COMMENTS on the sheets. I would like to sample a few of my favorites:

"Very respectful of our feelings"
"I think she is really nice and respectful to everyone in the class"
"Miss Harris is an excellent instructor. She provided the class with the knowledge needed."
"She relates to us."

And I got five that said:
"She is a very good teacher."

I did get one guy (I know it's anonymous, but you can't tell me this isn't a guy) who gave this suggestion as a way to improve our College Reading course, "Less reading." Um...dude. The class is called College READING.

So I decided that perhaps these children may be our future. (Sing it, Whitney...'Teach them well and LET them lead the way') After all, they do have great taste in teachers.

I'm so sad!

Goodbye, Wendy Wasserstein

"We're all concerned, intelligent, good women. It's just that I feel stranded. And I thought the whole point was that we wouldn't feel stranded. I thought the point was that we were all in this together." -from The Heidi Chronicles by Wendy Wasserstein

Portrait of a Grown Man Enjoying a Pop Tart

I must have missed more than I thought when it came to being a kid. Oh sure, I played baseball and football and any other outdoor sports you could think of, had a Nintendo the first Christmas it came out, bikes, fireworks, a pool, the whole nine yards. But I'm nearly 29 now, and I had my first pop tart last month.

Imagine me, a child growing up in the 80s, never enjoying a pop tart as they were meant to be enjoyed. It's a wonder that I wasn't suspected of being a Communist and shipped off to Moscow. A sample of the home raid would have gone something like this: "You're kidding me, right? He doesn't eat breakfast cereal either? He's definitely coming with us! He will be a perfect member of the Young Communists. We shall call him Mikhail. Grab your coat, boots, long johns, and several rolls of your fancy 2-ply toilet paper, comrade."

I guess that the Hypercolor t-shirt, denim jacket, and fake Air Jordans (they were decent facsimiles with the red, white and black color scheme, only without the Nike swoosh and the trademark Jordan with the ball and outstretched arms and legs; come to think of it, they were a very memorable pair of shoes) must have made me look semi-normal, even if I didn't eat what every other kid did.

Anyways, last month we were visiting Rachael and Aaron in Tennessee and she knows that Cindi and I both are extremely picky eaters, so she offered me two of Aaron's pop tarts (Frosted Chocolate Fudge) for breakfast. "Sure, I'll give em a shot," I said, not expecting too much. Aaron may have been disappointed that I was dipping into his pastry stash, but he didn't show it. To my surprise, they were pretty damn good, so I had several more the next day, and the next after that. I think Aaron was secretly glad we weren't staying for much longer than a weekend.

Just as I am writing this, Cindi came into the office and glanced at my post. She said, "Oh, wow, I was just thinking about having a few of your pop tarts." I think that I need a better hiding place for them, or perhaps a safe.

A challenge...

This post today is dedicated to to the poor, unfortunate souls who parade around on your city or suburban sidewalks in freezing weather for a lousy $7 an hour. Yes, that's right, I'm talking about the costumed wavers for Liberty Tax Service. I'm sure that you've seen hundreds out there as I have, dressed up as Uncle Sam or The Statue of Liberty, unloved and unappreciated as they wave unnoticed for hours at a time.

What I propose is a contest to give something back to these people and make them feel at home on our streets. The points system is as follows:

Waving back while in your car (a smile is optional) (1 point)
Honking your horn as you go by (2 points)
The honk and wave (3 points)
Buying them a cup of coffee or hot chocolate at a gas station or Dunkin Donuts (5 points)
Buying them a Venti Starbucks with an overpriced dessert (10 points)
Writing your Congreesman and/or Senator to move back the tax return date to September 15 (15 points)

Feel free to have a handy-dandy notebook at your side in your car to keep track of your daily points as I have.