I am an artist & teacher with a ❤ for visual expression, educational methodology, homesteading, & Jesus. My geek-love is The Joshua and we have three peanut-butters: Caleb, Jack, & Louritta.

Suckajawea

07/12/2004

Well, my iBook is having serious issues. I have to bring it to the Apple store tomorrow to see how many boo-ko dollars it’s gonna cost me to get it fixed. It’s doing a funky random monitor-freak out thing. Only, I don’t know that it’s the monitor, but is quite possibly a hard drive problem. I have no idea. So, hopefully the geniuses can take a peek at her for me to see what the deal is. This is really bad timing because I’m in the middle of a technology class. My principal is being kind enough to meet me at school tomorrow morning to give me one of the school laptops to use for the rest of the summer. So, if I wasn’t stressed enough by this tech class, the lack of my sweet sweet girly of a laptop isn’t helping me any.
On another note, I talked on my last post about how I dislocated my pinky. I don’t remember exactly how I did it because I was so involved in the game. It wasn’t until I started having an asthma attack and had to sit out that I realized that, hey, my pinky also hurts. And look, it’s bending the wrong way and is getting all purple. Kewwwwweeeeeeel. So, I went to the doctor and the doc asked me how I hurt my pinky. I said that I was playing a sport with some kids. “Oh? What sport were you playing???” I hesitated, too embarrassed to tell her the true sport I was playing. I considered saying something simple like baseball or football…but that would just be lying.
“Um. I was playing Chair Bomb.”
She looked up at me like I was some kind of psychotic creative person who either invents these bizarro games or is dumb enough to listen to the people who do create them. She nodded, which seemed to say to me, “You’re lucky that you only injured your pinky…playing something crazy like Chair Bomb.”
She asked me to explain it. “Well, there are two chairs on opposite sides of the court. One team gets a water balloon and has to get it to break on the opposing team’s chair. They can run until someone of the opposite team tags them. Then they have three seconds to get the balloon to someone else on their team. If they don’t, the other team gets the balloon. If you break a balloon, the other team gets to start with a new one. The other team can also intercept your ball and make a run for it.”
“Sounds like a fun game.” She said in such a tone that I knew she didn’t mean it. How could anyone consider anything called “Chair Bomb” to be a legitimate sport???
Then I had to get my finger x-rayed. When I went in, the guy asked me how I injured my finger. “Just playing with some friends.” I hoped that would be the end of it. But no…the inevitable question came, “Oh yeah? What were you playing?”
I sat there horrified by his endless curiosity. I looked up at the x-ray machine where there was a sign that said, “DO NOT USE IF PREGNANT.” I wondered if x-ray machines were somehow related to roller coasters, since pregnant women weren’t allowed to ride either one (don’t worry, I’m so not pregnant…although Josh’s mom rode a roller coaster a couple weeks before he was born, but that’s neither here nor there).
I attempted to avoid x-ray man’s question by simplifying my response, “Just a game my friend made up.” Stare at ground. Avoid eye contact. Anything to stop the questioning!
“Sounds cool. What’s it called???”
“…” *Admit defeat* “…Chair Bomb.”
“Chair Bomb? That’s one I’ve never heard before. With a name like ‘Chair Bomb,’ you’re lucky that all you did was dislocate your pinky.”
Yeah. Thanks. Thanks a lot.
I exited the hospital with one of those big metal brace thingies. It made my finger feel better, but the problem was that it made it challenging to type. Of course I had to injure my pinky during my technology class, the class that requires an insane amount of typing. And that stupid big metal thing keeps HITTING THE CAPS LOCK KEY SO ALL OF MY WRITING MAKES IT LOOK LIKE I’M SCREAMING. GOOD TIMES.

Getting Clutzy & Blonder

07/08/2004

I don’t know what the deal is, but I’ve been feeling increasingly clutzy and “stupid” blonde lately. I’m seeing this by a select choice of actions that have occurred recently:
1. Two days ago, when introducing myself to someone in my class, I hit his can of soda & knocked it onto his lap.
2. While eating my noodle salad, I hit the bowl and knocked it across the table.
3. When I went to leave the lunch table, I picked up my lunch box & walked away, not realizing that I hadn’t zipped it up. This dumped my soda can, secret cookies, and tupperware container across the room. Grrrr…
4. While playing a sport with the Jr. High kiddos, I dislocated my pinky.
5. I couldn’t find the elevator at the Dr.’s office, even though i was standing right next to it.
Anyway, it struck me that I have a fear of getting stupider (more stupid?) as I get older. What if I am really developing a clutziness & stupidity? Can I avoid this? When I got home yesterday, I picked up one of my psychology books (as opposed to a surfer magazine) so I could ingest something into my brian that has an extensive vocabulary. Maybe this can at least slow down the process of Stephanie stupification.

Defining Moments in Life or Selecting a Ringtone

07/05/2004

Josh and I just got cell phones & we’ve been pretty interested in checking out the features and everything. I was at a 4th of July par-tay yesterday and whenever my phone would go off, I was completely unaware. Other people would be like, “Hey Steph, isn’t that your phone?” And I’d be like, “Ummm…I don’t know. Let me check.”
So, the search for an obvious ringtone is on. Josh and I have been clicking around trying to find the perfect ringtone. You can’t get just any sound, because the sound has some bearing, some fingerprint, on who you are. As John Cusack said in High Fidelity, “It’s not who we are, but what we like.”
So, I think Josh got some Nintendo thing. I have so far selected First Date by Blink-182 and am honing in on Justin Timberlake’s Senorita. I am frustrated that most of the music I actually super-dooper love (Sixpence, Joni Mitchell, Dave Matthews, Yo-Yo Ma, Billy Joel, Lisa Loeb) is not featured. Other songs that I love, just sounded too stupid to be played on a polyphonic midi (such as Somewhere Over the Rainbow). I would really like to get Fatboy Slim’s Weapon of Choice and Cake’s Never There, but alas, I cannot find them for my particular phone. Sigh.

I Hate Spammers & Want To Kick Them

07/05/2004

Man, this weekend alone I despammed my blog over 350 times. It’s really starting to piss me off. Especially all the sneaky ways that people spam. Like, they’ll put in someone else’s legitimate e-mail address as their own. Or they’ll write stupid comments like “thanks for the great info” or “nice site.” Grrrrrrrr! And it’s usually crap related to one of the following categories: casinos, sex anything, great loans or money making schemes. There was even one on my site that was advertising “extreme rape” porn sites. What the heck is that and why is it even legal??? Just looking at the url made me ill.
Another thing I loathe about spammers is that it costs them no money to post on my site (or anyone else’s). So, it’s like free advertising. That makes it even easier, say, to completely load my comments with crap. I don’t think much of the spam ever gets through to my viewers though, it usually just pisses me off big time and then I spend several hours of my time deleting it all. I look at spam the same way as phone calls to my house — if you can’t advertise in a decent non-annoying way, you don’t deserve my business no matter how great your deals are. Bastards.
I wish there were some serious regulations regarding spam. Problem is, the world wide web is world wide and it would take some kind of l33t haxor world power geeks to monitor it all. (Although, that would be kind of a cool job title.) The punishment should be that the person who was spammed gets to kick the spammer as many times as they posted on their site. It could be like a birthday party spanking line, except kicking really hard with intent to injure. If I could kick all the people who spammed my site, I would feel better somehow. I may have some guilt about it later (as I considered Jesus’ call to forgive), but would probably not think about that until much much after the bliss and elation of kicking them.

Evil, Evil is His One & Only Name

07/03/2004

Some call him Henson.
It all started several years ago when Josh and I decided to confront Henson with his food-stealing and trash-digging sins. We sat both him and the cat down and shared with them their sinful condition and how they could dedicate their lives to the Lord and be fully forgiven and saved.
The cat was very responsive and repented immediately. She has since been living her life as a servant, and has been exhibiting the fruits of the spirit daily.
The dog, on the other hand, would have none of this religious stuff and has since increased his sinful ways. These including barking at people when they hug, getting stuck in the blinds while people pass by on the sidewalk, and digging on the carpet and couch cushions trying to make them somehow more comfortable. His idols include Piggy and Squeaky Bear. Both are regularly covered in drool as he tries to wedge them in your arm so you will be forced to throw them for him.
The sin has escalated to a point that Josh and I are extremely alarmed. A few days ago, Henson managed to get a stick of butter off the table and was scarfing it down quickly to avoid getting caught. I came around the corner and there he was, sucking the thing down his throat whole like a snake might eat a furry woodland creature. Our eyes met, and I saw the pain and guilt he has been harboring for quite some time. When I walked over to him, his eyes grew fierce and he growled at me (trying to protect his precious precious butter). This ended with me grabbing him by the scruff of then neck and launching him into the garage. He barked in anger for sometime (I think he said something about “injustice” and “right to a trial” and “cruel and unusual”). Eventually he stopped barking and I let him back into the house. I forgave his sins, yet again, and looked sadly on his now slightly fatter body.
Problem is, I don’t see him repenting anytime soon. I fear that his life will end tragically and he will be unsaved. Sometimes I see him dreaming (probably about Piggies and Squeaky Bears dipped in butter) and mumblling to himself, “My precious…my precious.”

Payment for Shopping – Battlefield Dreamin’

07/02/2004

I told Josh about my dream last night and he was like, “Oh man, you totally have to blog about that.” I didn’t want to because I thought it was corny. But, we went shopping, and I bought past my quota in board shorts. So, this post is in payment to Josh for the error in my spending. 🙂
I said before that we were playing Battlefield 1942 last night. When I got home way late (after the freaky car flippage thing), I had a weird dream.
There was this war on U.S. soil, particularly the Bay Area, and a bunch of peeps were sent out to fight the enemy (don’t remember where they were from). Camille was my partner & we got sent off on a mission in the Foothills, which didn’t go through because the people we were supposed to attack never showed. But, we did see some of the enemy obviously preparing an attack. We didn’t have permission from our commanding officer to attack, but they were obviously going to do some harm, so I made the decision that we were going to attack.
They had several guys in a tank, and one guy doing assault on top of the tank. I told Camille to snipe for me while I went down w/ my anti-tank rocket launcher. I hid from the enemy until I got close enough. Then I walkie-talkied Camille (with a secret language we had invented) to snipe the top guy for me & I would shoot my rocket launcher as soon as he was dead (I remember the secret language code for “shoot” was “dadoo”).
She shot the guy in the head (her preferred shooting locale) and he dropped. I immediately fired at the tank. I panicked to reload, while the tank gun-thing was turning to shoot me. I ran along side the tank while reloading and shot the tank one more time, which was enough to make it inoperable.
Then, the top opened and a guy came out. I shot him with my handgun, then threw a grenade in the tank. I turned up the hill and took off running. Camille met me and we came upon a small farm with horses. I yelled at her, “Give me your rope!” She was like, “Why!?! What are we doing!” I said, “JUST TRUST ME!”
Then I prayed, “God, let me pick the right horse.” I chose a chestnut horse with a slight sway in the back (which made me think it had been broke to ride). I tied the rope around his halter and jumped on w/ Camille behind me. We took off into the foothills until it was safe.
Camille was like, “You just stole somebody’s horse!” And I responded, “Camille, we’re in a war. We need some transportation & this is what we’re keeping until we find something better.” She nodded.
That was my dream. Isn’t that totally bizarre? What a strange strange night I had.

Crazy Nights

07/02/2004

Josh, Neal, Camille & I played Battlefield last night & had a great time. I think Camille & I are actually getting pretty good at the game! For chicks anyway. Camille came over after & we watched Mystic River, which was pretty cool. Except, if that movie’s not creepy enough, the night got even creepier (and I’m not saying that just because arachnophobic Joshua had a spider crawl up his arm).
So, I’m bringing Camille home pretty late. We pulled onto 85 north from Stevens Creek and there was what I thought to be a rear view mirror in the road. I swerved to avoid it & thought for a split moment about how odd it is to see a rear view mirror on the road. Then, I looked up, and to the left of the on ramp was an old school VW Beetle flipped upside down. There was smashed glass and papers blowing everywhere. There were no lights on, and other cars just kind of drove on by.
I looked at it and was like, “Do you think there’s someone in there?” I mean, it freaks me out to think that someone could be dying on the side of the road and everyone just drives by, figuring that “someone else will help” or “I’m busy enough as it is.” So, Camille calls 911 on her cell. We take the next exit & circle around to see if there’s anyone in the car. By the time we get there though, a fire truck & several police cars have already arrived (talk about service). We pulled over & told them that we called 911 & they asked us a few questions about it.
Weird thing is, there was no person to be found. They had guys with flashlights scanning the ditches & stuff looking for signs of life. By the looks of the car, I don’t think anyone could have walked away from that without some serious cuts & bruises (at least). But, the police had no info of anyone calling for a tow truck or anything. There was simply no one in sight.
It was so bizarre. When I dropped Camille off at home, she looked at me and said, “Well, it’s always an adventure hanging out with you.” At first I thought, “Not really, I’m pretty boring.” Then I remembered that our last hang out ended in chasing a kitty cat down the highway. And other times have included eating at a freakish restaurant where we thought this crappy t.v. was going to fall on us. Or running into lesbians at Denny’s (which Neal thought was just a “guy with saggy pants”).
Always an adventure. Yup. That’s me.

Isn’t It Great To Be Back Home?

06/29/2004

Home is where I wanna be.
It’s funny how life works sometimes, you look back on the strange things that have happened to you & the bizarre outcomes that have occurred. And yet, you ended up here, in this place, for whatever reason. Sometimes it seems so random & chaotic, but other days it feels so planned & calculated by some higer being looking out for you & your needs.
While in MN a couple of days ago, I found myself for the first time standing back and seeing Minnesota for what it was. A wonderful place filled with people I love, people I have a history with. When I am there, I am covered in Deet to protect myself from getting eaten alive, and am so drugged to avoid the ever painful sinus headache. I had fun going to all of the familiar places, that now seem somehow foreign. But my heart cried out for you, oh California.
On the plane ride home (I’m a pro at the airport system now. What? Gate C5, yeah I know where that is, hope I don’t get stranded in Denver again…) I watched Minnesota fade to grey as I laid back and imagined a place where it’s strange to not have WiFi, and a good hug is only a Joshua away. I imagined a place where there is an ocean and sea air, where you have to leave the water running practically all day just to get your lawn to grow. A place where you’re white, and you’re the minority. A place where you feel stupid because you only speak one language. A place where you have a family, not by blood, but by love. Where people don’t spend time with you because they have to, but because they like you.
So, I made a mental note to buy the rest of Joni Mitchell’s Blue off of iTunes, because she really deserves to be up there with the rest of my music. I sat back with my iBook playing Mystic River & enjoyed the ride home to California.

He cooked good omlettes and stews
And I might have stayed on with him there
But my heart cried out for you, California
Oh California I’m coming home
Oh make me feel good rock’n roll band
I’m your biggest fan
California I’m coming home

My Grandma is 57!!!

06/27/2004

Actually, she turned 75 today. We put the candles on the cake to say “57” and asked her, “What??? You’re not 57???” So, we switched them back to 75 after she blushed and got a good chuckle out of it.
It was so weird seeing my extended family today. I asked them what’s new in their lives, and they all said that there was nothing. So, I said to my mom, “See? There’s no reason for me to move back to Minnesota because I never miss anything!” It was funny.
I got to see Jenna (my niece) again today. I stole her from my mom practically every time she held her. Heh heh. She’s a great little girl and it’ll be cool to see how she grows.
One thing that is really special is that I love to be around my brothers. I don’t always know what to say or whatever. But I admire them both for their incredibly big hearts. That, and they are hilarious. I think if I move back to MN, I’m going to invest in my own cable access show called “Fishing With Nathan and Chad.” Okay, the title needs work. But, I’m seeing this show filled with fishing, competitive brothers, great one-liners, and fishing tips. That would be cool. They might get mad at me for taking up room in the boat, but that could be part of the humor & charm of the show.
I pitched my show idea to Josh once and he was like, “I would totally watch that…and I don’t even like fishing!” So, it should be a good sell considering that Josh doesn’t even turn the T.V. on for anything besides the Simpson’s or the occasional Futurama.
Any ideas for a better title of the fishing cable show?

Allergic to Minnesota

06/26/2004

Well, it has been settled. I am officially allergic to Minnesota. In California my allergies are almost non-existent. Every time I have come to Minnesota my allergies have been turned on like a lightswitch within 15 minutes of leaving the Airport. When I was in MN growing up, I thought that allergies were just normal and were a part of life. When I moved to Cali, I stopped taking my allergy meds just to see what would happen. Turns out I was pretty much fine and didn’t need them. But, when I come to MN, give it a few minutes for the clogging and the sinus headache. Then comes the antihistamine investment. So, I’ve decided that I’m just allergic to this blasted state. Love it or hate it, I’m allergic to it.
Unfortuntately, it’s not that easy. See, there are so many things in Minnesota I’m not allergic to. I spent the day with Carrie today and had a wonderful time just being mello and exploring Grand Ave. Yesterday I hung out with my brother, Ronnie, & Jenna. We drove around and checked out the local real estate and I got to meet my new (beautiful) niece. Thursday night I had dinner with dad and a late-night Perkins snack with mom. I bought a rope toy for Cooper and played with him. These are things I am not allergic to. Thank goodness.
I know when I move back to MN (someday…not soon) I will find a new attachment to the Sixpence None the Richer Song, “A Million Parachutes:”

like a million parachutes
the snow’s coming down
I lock up the front door
and turn the lights down
in the glow of the street lights,
I see them descend
like a million parachutes,
small men on a mission
I miss the warm,
and I miss the sun
and I miss the ocean,
I miss everyone
and I miss the bridges
that span across the bay
tonight it seems like ages ago

It is amazing how you can grow to love and desire a place when you spend time there and develop roots and relationships. But, I do miss California whenever I am in Minnesota. It fills a place in my heart that needs to be filled right now, even though I can’t quite put my finger on why. God has brought me there and he is feeding me there in ways I never would have expected. It has been awesome so far.

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