The True Tales of a Snowbound Girl

You Are Not Your Child!!!

2010-02-19T14:10:00.000-08:00

Parents on facebook, I beg you, please reclaim your identity. When I click onto your page, I want to see a photo of you, not your children. A photo of you with your children is fine, it shows you and what's important in your life right now. However, I don't care how cute your kids are, when I click on "Mary Jones" I want to see a photo of Mary Jones, not Mary Jones' average-looking midwestern offspring. Seriously, does this phenomena bother anyone else? It seems to be another example of how our society has become obsessively kid-oriented. Your facebook page is supposed to be about you, your identity, who you are, and replacing your profile photo with a photo of your children is the equivalent of screaming, "I no longer have an identity! I am my children and nothing more!" And this appears to be a problem across genders, mothers and fathers who have decided that they are no longer represented by their own image. There are people I knew in high school who were brilliant, interesting, and beautiful. And now when I click on facebook to see what they're up to with their lives I am confronted by a photo of their children. For all I know they could have turned into Scarface, dyed their hair green, or been crowned Mrs. America. All of which would make for an interesting profile photo. But their current image forces me to wonder if they've suddenly regressed back to drool and diapers.

All in all, it makes me sad. Your life doesn't end once you have children and your identity doesn't go away. And while your children may take up the majority of your time and attention, and they may be your primary interest, THEY ARE NOT YOU. Facebook is a small place for you to hold on to your identity. Don't give it up.

Blinky blinky folks, it's not that hard.

2010-02-06T15:10:00.000-08:00

Dear Minnesota Drivers,
  I will admit, I have slight psychic tendencies. My instinct is very good and I occasionally have dreams that come true. So I guess I can understand why you might think that I will magically know what your next vehicular move is going to be. You're in the middle of the lane with 5 feet between you and the curb, no turn signal on, of course I know that you intend to make a right turn! It's so obvious!
   That being said, I think we should all learn to make allowances for those who may not be as psychic as I am. "But Mel, how can I do this?" you may ask yourselves. How can we devise a simple way to convey to other drivers that we intend to make a turn and they should stay out of our way? Have no fear o' drivers of the frozen north, car makers have given us a solution. I want you to go out to your car right now and look at the left side of your steering wheel. Go ahead, I'll wait.....
   Back now? Knocked the snow off your boots and left them by the door like Mom taught you? Good. Now, did you see the little stick thing coming out of your steering wheel? Excellent. Next time you want to make a right turn, flip it up and a little light in your rear bumper will begin to blink. I know, I know, you can't see it, but trust me, it's there. Want to make a left turn? Flick it down, and the same thing will happen on the left side of your rear bumper. It's amazing! I know. Next time you're on your 20th Target run of the week, try this, and I guarantee, you'll notice a dramatic reduction of people swearing at you and throwing objects at your car. You're welcome.

Ode to the Bed

2010-02-01T06:51:00.001-08:00

Oh bed of mine
With your pillows so soft
I long to be with you
Burritoed up in your cozy comfort
Cool sheets upon my skin
But alas, you are far from me
Driven away by the cruel ring
Of the alarm clock's insistence
Bed
Oh Bed
I wait for the moment of our reunion
My desk just isn't nearly as comfortable.

The Pheasant Who Failed Physics

2008-11-12T08:52:00.000-08:00

I recently had the pleasure of spending 20+ hours in a car on the way to Houston, TX.

Around hour 3 or 4, somewhere in Iowa, I was talking to the driver, gazing out the window, when I saw a pheasant take off from the grass in the median.

Jokingly I looked at the driver and said, "Hit the pheasant! Hit the pheasant!" And then I rapidly realized that, while I understand the basics of physics and where an object in constant motion is likely to end up at a given point in time, the pheasant apparently slept through that day in flight school.

Thus it happened that our windshield and the mid-flight pheasant ended up being in the same place at the same time.

The crush of green feathers on the windshield was quite pretty. Unfortunately, the car in our group traveling behind us refused to pick up our prize. We could have had a good dinner, no buckshot at all.

Am I Becoming Evil?

2008-02-17T15:04:00.000-08:00

I have developed an evil laugh. I can't quite pinpoint when this happened, but apparently it has. It's actually more of a throaty, deep cackle than a full out evil laugh, but it's still a little disconcerting. I've noticed myself whipping it out when I learn about the amusing misfortunes of another or when I'm mocking someone who deserves it. It's an evil laugh. When did I become evil? How did I miss that? Isn't there a 12-step program you have to go through or something before you can fully claim arch-villain status and develop an evil laugh? This is not supposed to be the kind of thing that sneaks up on you! It should be premeditated. But here I sit, chuckling to myself, sounding like a 26-year old Cruella DeVil.

The thing is, I secretly really like my evil laugh.

Be afraid.

Brrrrrr!

2008-02-10T11:49:00.000-08:00

It's cold. There's no denying it. When I step outside I discover that I go into a full body-clench as my internal organs thrust themselves into survival mode.

But still there is such beauty to this world.

I sit here on my couch, as warm and cozy and comfortable as can be. There's a mostly empty coffee cup beside me and a discarded muffin wrapper. My apartment is on the 3rd floor and heat rises so I'm toasty warm, benefitting from my chilled neighbors below. This temperature discrepancy between my cocoon and the outside world is reflected on my windows. The thin panes of glass are covered in a fine sheet of frosted ice and it has created the most beautiful patterns. The window by the couch looks like a mini moonscape with mountains and crevices and even craters. Shadows cast by the trees outside add yet another layer to the illusion.

Winter reminds us of one of the great pleasures of being human. It allows us to fully experience the joy of being safe and warm. Protected, for awhile, from the bitter and frigid world outside.

Let's Move Away From Kindergarten

2008-01-16T06:19:00.001-08:00

I watched the Democratic debate last night. No, wait, that statement implies too much. I occasionally glanced at the Democratic debate last night when they managed to ever so briefly grab my attention. All three participants obviously forgot the definition of the word "debate". It was a weak and pathetic love fest. Call me old fashioned, but this round-table, let's call eachother by our firstnames, give well-rehearsed answers, and make the whole thing a giant fuzzy hug BS turns me off. I want my debates done standing at podiums with a clear reference to titles and decorum, with hard questions and snappy answers. These are the people who are supposed to lead our nation to greatness! This is the time when they're supposed to prove to us, the American people, that they're capable of doing so. This is the time to inflame and inspire. And every candidate has turned into a wet noodle following the safe road.

The second one of them signs up Aaron Sorkin as a speech writer this thing will become a blowout.

Losing

2007-12-31T09:17:00.000-08:00

I stared at the scale for a full minute this morning.

I am the only person I know who actually loses weight. As in, I have no idea where it went or why. For all I know the little weight gnomes come in the middle of the night and take it away.

Yesterday morning, 180 lbs. This morning, 172.

Now, I'm not complaining, not at all. I just wish I knew what was causing this so I could market it and live a life of ease for the rest of my days.

Gnomes I tell you. It's gotta be gnomes.

Living Life Carfree

2007-12-07T19:53:00.000-08:00

No, that's not a typo, I really do mean car-free, rather than carefree. And this particular post is more of a retrospective as I just got my car back from the body shop. They'd had it for 3 weeks and they were starting to feel guilty. I have to say though, I did learn a lot in my 3 weeks of car-free existence. I learned that taking the bus isn't so bad once you get the planning down. The people watching is fun, not having to worry about traffic is nice, and it's a nice way to slow down and just chillax for awhile. Not fun - waiting in sub-freezing weather and having it take 45 + minutes to get anywhere.

Mostly though, what really surprised me about not having a car, was the generosity of my friends and acquaintances. I had friends who were honestly indignant when they discovered that I had taken the bus somewhere. "You took the bus to the grocery store? I could have taken you!" "But you don't need groceries." "So?!" Everyone was more than generous and not once was I turned down when I asked for a ride. I occasionally had to tag along on some errands (sled shopping in Wal-Mart with Tom) but that was always fun and enlightening. In a nice way, not having a car actually enabled me to spend more time with my friends.

Now, I will admit it, I am ecstatic to have my car back. I like being able to go shopping without having to plan out multiple routes and worry about carrying things. I like being able to spend more time in my warm apartment and less time waiting at a bus stop. But I am also encouraged to know that living life car-free is possible and really not that bad. In danger of sounding cheesy, I will say that being car-free can be carefree.

A Different Point of View

2007-11-17T21:46:00.000-08:00

Due to an unavoidable automobile accident, I am carless for approximately the next two weeks. So this morning, in order to get to my martial arts class, I had to take the city bus.

There I am, 9am on a Saturday morning, sitting in the back of the bus with a bunch of men who look like the toughest group of ghetto thugs that you've ever seen. The kind of men who you'd run away from if you came across them in a dark alley. Now, stereotypes have taught us exactly what to think about these types of people, right? They're illiterate, they're uncultured, they do nothing but listen to rap music, deal drugs, and talk about ho's all the time, right?

So, imagine my surprise when I finally pulled myself out of my own iPod listening stupor and actually noticed that these rough and tumble men of the streets were passing around sections of the local newspaper. Not only that, they were passing around sections of the conservative local newspaper. The gangsta across from me was pouring over the op-ed pieces.

I was floored, and, quite honestly, pleasantly surprised. We get so caught up in our own bubbles, so tied to our own perceptions of the world, sometimes it takes a change of situation to make us realize how narrow-minded we're being. I don't normally take the bus, mainly because the system sucks (I had to first travel east in order to go west). But changing my routine, being forced out of my rut, got me to open my eyes and I was treated to a glimpse of something that I would never have believed if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. And I believe that I am wiser for it.

So, break out of your rut, try something new, and see how the world surprises you.

Vicky Gets Demanding, or The Prostification of America

2007-11-09T15:47:00.000-08:00

Walked into a new Victoria's Secret the other day with the intent and purpose to get myself a new bra. Felt the girls needed a little support and attention. Picked our some cute styles and got myself a changing room, walked in, and stopped dead in my tracks. I was so shocked that I had to whip out my cell phone and take the included photo. I couldn't believe it. Gone are the days when a woman could try on an undergarment in peace. Now upon entering the dressing room I am being ordered to remove all my clothing, in neon pink letters none the less. Is this what we have come to? Whores on Halloween, prostitots, and commands to behave like a harlot in a public dressing room...it's sick. And I am left wondering, is there a point at which the prostification of America will ever stop? Because I honestly believed awhile back that it had gone as far is it would and eventually we'd see a swing back towards values of some kind. But, no such luck. Maybe I'm just getting old.

Or maybe I just don't like the mirror telling me what to do.

When Did Halloween Get Taken Over By Ho's?

2007-10-18T18:01:00.000-07:00

Once you've passed the age of, oh, 13, shopping for a Halloween costume becomes a deeply traumatic experience.

I can't pinpoint exactly when it happened, maybe it was so subtle we weren't completely aware of it, but at some point in the past 10 years, female Halloween costumes have become solely scandalous. It is next to impossible to find one that doesn't show an embarrassing amount of cleavage, or thigh, or both. And if those things are covered, the costume itself is so clingy as to leave nothing to the imagination.

Since when did donning a costume become synonymous with shedding any amount of modesty you may possess? When did Halloween become nothing more than an excuse to dress like a tramp? Why does using your imagination and playing pretend for an evening automatically translate into fulfilling the lust-filled fantasies of every male you come in contact with?
And don't even get me started on the fact that few women have the physique to pull off such costumes. So, even if we weren't opposed to them on a decency basis, we couldn't in good conscience wear them anyway.

How did we let this happen? Is this yet another example of how sex obsessed our culture has become? How a woman's value and creativity serves her only as far as she can pull off a playboy bunney-esque ensemble? What does this say for women in our society? We have a woman running for president and yet I am unable to purchase a Halloween costume that I feel comfortable wearing in front of my brother. Is there any turning society back from this point?

And that's my rant for October. Stepping down off the soap box now.

I Can't Tell Who's Crazy Anymore!

2007-09-09T07:23:00.000-07:00

Can I just say, I really resent that fact that cellphones, and more specifically hands-free head sets, have made it impossible for me to really tell who's crazy anymore.

Yesterday a gentleman was pacing up and down the sidewalk outside my window, screaming and swearing at the top of his lungs. He was beyond angry, he was furious. Of course, his rant wasn't entirely coherent, so I couldn't tell what he was furious about. Besides myself and the other occupants of my building, there was no one around to hear him. But there he was, for a good 10 minutes, walking back and forth screaming obscenities into the crisp September air.

Now, 10 years ago I could have said to myself, "Self, this man is crazy, he's yelling at nobody. Clearly he's misplaced a few marbles along the way." But now, I can't be sure. For all I know he could have had a cellphone headset in and there could have been a very real, very chagrined person listening to him on the other end of the line. Making him not crazy, just obnoxious.

Frankly, I liked it better when there was a clear line between the merely obnoxious, and the obviously insane.

You Can Take The Girl Out Of The Country...

2007-07-26T18:10:00.001-07:00

...but you obviously can't take the country out of the girl. Now, that's not to say that I sit in my apartment wearing cowboy boots and a great big belt buckle. But it does mean that as I sit on my parent's couch and watch the rain pouring down outside, I am grateful. Because all summer I have been aware of how dry it has been and I have worried about the welfare of the crops. Crops. I live in the middle of a large metropolitan city and I've been worried about the corn, soybeans, etc. Not because it directly affects me in any way, shape, or form, but because I'm a country girl and we're raised to care about such things.

I wonder if it will ever go away or if I'll be concerned about the back 40 for the rest of my life.

So What If I'm Cold-Hearted

2007-07-20T06:32:00.000-07:00

The other day I entertained myself by sitting outside on the office steps for about twenty minutes, enjoying the sunshine and chatting on the phone with my long-distance best friend. After we'd said our goodbyes I stood up, dusted myself off, and walked back into the building. Dave the Maintenance Guy was just inside the door, changing lightbulbs. He looked at me and asked, "What's it' like out there?"

"Beautiful" I replied, "Warm and absolutely perfect."

"And for a normal person?"

"Probably a little too hot."

"That's what I figured."

Mel's Home For The Wayward and Miscreant

2007-05-05T09:52:00.000-07:00

I know a lot of cool people and have a ton of goofy and fun friends. As we all enter our mid-20's we're slowly starting to realize that maybe, possibly, we're not all going to find that one special person who recognizes just how cool we are. And while I enjoy living alone right now, I'm not sure that I want to do it for the rest of my life. I want a family of my own creation. Not necessarily the traditional biological family with the absurdly handsome husband, two kids, and a dog. But a group of people who support and care for eachother and have a ton of fun doing it. So, I have decided that at some point in my life I'm going to get a ridiculously large house and I'm going to invite all my cool, quirky, interesting, charming friends to move in with me. Create my own family. And since we're all a little bit off, a little bit lost, and definite trouble, I'm going to call it Mel's Home for the Wayward and Miscreant.

Applications for room and board are currently being accepted.

Here at the End of All Things

2007-04-14T09:02:00.000-07:00

My ex had his son.

A year, to the day, after he came crying back to me begging to be given a chance to try things again. And we did until I was reminded what it felt like to be loved and I finally realized what was missing from his efforts.

He had a son.

It's so hard to wrap my brain around that one indisputable fact. The man that I loved for 5 years has had a child with someone else. The poor kid was about a month early and I hope and pray that he's ok. As much venom as I hold towards the father, this poor child doesn't deserve any of the situation he's been born into. I want only the best for little Jacob.

The real kicker here, my ex actually has the nerve to be mad at me. He angry that I didn't take his call on Tuesday. It's like he's trying to punish me via voicemail. Trying to guilt me into calling him. He won't call me because "you need your space". Space? If that's why he thinks we're not talking I obviously didn't make myself clear. Or he doesn't understand what betrayal feels like and how it can turn you into an angry person who wants to forget.

In a way, I am glad that he's angry. If it takes him being angry with me to make him move on and go away then excellent, wonderful, more power to him. I achieve the result I want and we can both go forward and live our lives. It is time for us to come to the end. He has had his son. There is no more final finish than that.

Resilience

2007-04-05T13:57:00.000-07:00

Life doesn't give you a heads up when it's going to take a twist or a turn. There's no flyer in the mail saying, "Devastation day is next Tuesday at 3:52, dress is business casual and no RSVP is necessary." No, the moments that knock you down and change your entire existence come completely out of the blue with no warning that everything you know is about to change.
But after those moments come and we're forced to deal with the wreckage left behind, I'm continually amazed by the resilient power of the human spirit. Things that you never thought you could deal with become just another fact of life. You accept the new world that's been painted for you and you learn to exist and thrive within it. And suddenly, one day, you realize how different your life would be if that one shattering moment had never happened, and you can't imagine your life without the change. The things that seem devastating while they're happening are the events and trials that eventually make up some of the best and most character building parts of our lives.
"The world breaks everyone, and afterwards, many are strong at the broken places." - Hemingway

Dodging the Bullet

2007-03-17T17:36:00.000-07:00

One of the top ten things you never want to find out from a webpage: Your ex, whom you dated and loved dearly for five years, has a girlfriend he's lied to you about for the past year and she's six months pregnant.

Things that you really don't want added on top of that: there was overlap between his two women; you and he never slept together but he screwed her after 3 days; he lied to you when he said he graduated college; he lied to you when he said they hadn't had sex; he lied about the kid being his; he lied, he lied, he lied. I don't want to think about what else he may have lied to me about.

It's a strange thing, regret, once it has a hold of you it never truly leaves. Regret for time wasted, lies believed, love given. And at the same time it's paired with the most incredible sense of relief. Relief that I never did sleep with the lying sleeze. Relief that I never married him like I thought I wanted to. Relief that for once that bullet passed me by. Burned my skin and seared my soul on it's way, but left me alive and able to move on.

I'd like to think that I'm not this stupid. I'd like to think that I'm not such a fool as to believe and love a liar for so long.

Apparently I'm not as smart as I think I am.

So, the question now is, do I use what I know to open up his web of lies and destroy the fiction that he has built around himself? Or do I hold my knowledge over his head as a threat to force him to man up and do the right thing by the child he's created?

Under all of this, under the pain, under the regret, under the overwhelming feelings of betrayal, lies the blue pilot light of seething, enduring hate. It's a hard thing to discover that you truly hate your first love. But sometimes people just leave you with no choice.

How Wonderbread Girl Came to Be

2007-03-06T16:47:00.000-08:00

First things first, I feel that I should explain how I earned the title of "Wonderbread Girl".

Last November, the day before Thanksgiving in fact, I was walking down a busy local street, my purse in my right hand and a shopping bag full of dinner rolls for the next days festivities in my right. Suddenly I heard the sound of thundering feet behind me. I started to turn around and the next thing I knew the cute boy that I had checked out only moments before ran up beside me, grabbed my purse with both hands, and attempted to rip it out of my grasp and run away with it.

He would soon discover that it was not his lucky day. And I discovered that even when your brain is screaming "What the fuck!?!?!?" your body is responding purely on reflex. Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for the man who was attempted to steal my $6, I'm a black belt and after 5 years of martial arts training I have some pretty specific reflexes.

I think I'd kicked him 3 or 4 times before my brain caught up to what I was doing.

Now, I have been told many many times that anything in your hands can be a weapon. So, while I was kneeing him in the stomach I was also beating this poor boy over the head with my shopping bag of dinner rolls. Again, I'd hit him 3 or 4 times before my brain switched on and said, "Hey, dummy, dinner rolls aren't going to do much damage, why not drop the bag and use something more substantial....like your fists". Of course, by the time that message got through to the rest of my body my attacker had already let go of my purse and sprinted off across the street to the waiting getaway van, where I'm sure his cohorts were laughing their asses off.

Of course I immediately had to share this story with my martial arts buddies. They were all riveted right up to the point where I described hitting him with the dinner rolls. Then, the mocking began. And that, dear readers, was the beginning of Wonderbread Girl and her buns of justice.