Shame.

Ginger: Sadly, I have started watching a show at the gym. "Keeping Up with the Kardashians." I have sunk to new levels.

Val: I'm about to block you from my chat list.

Ginger: "BACHELOR PAD?"

Val: Touché.

Glove Compartment

I went to a couple of bridal shops last Saturday to try on bridesmaids dresses for Ginger's wedding. Thinking ahead (oohoo, I'm so slick), I put a strapless bra in my purse so I'd be prepared for strapless dresses.

After trying on all these dresses, I realized I was running late to meet my friends at the movies. So I threw on my clothes without changing back into my regular bra and hit the road.

Once I got to the theater, I didn't want to carry my BRA in my purse with me, HELLO. And I didn't want it sitting on the front seat of my car or something crazy like that. So like any normal person would, I stuck it in my glove compartment.

And promptly forgot about it.

A few days later, my grandparents did me a solid and took my car in to get my brakes checked for me.

But then.

Grandpa went looking in my glove compartment for any paperwork I might have about my brakes.

Fast forward to Grandma telling me that they were having a grand old time coming up with possible scenarios for how it got there. They were thoroughly entertained, and she couldn't stop laughing while on the phone with me.

I love my grandparents.

Poncho

I've been told that I should wear a poncho at all times.

1. I pulled out my amazing hazelnut coffee creamer from the fridge yesterday and gave a vigorous shake. Apparently the lid was slightly ajar... because then my kitchen was slightly punched in the face with hazelnut creamer.

2. I had the perfect second cup of coffee ready to accompany me to work today. We were all set to go. I had even managed to get the creamer into the cup. I grabbed the mug, my bags and my keys and went out the door. I pulled out my phone to call Val on the way to work and five minutes into my drive I realized that the coffee would not be making the trip with me. I'm looking forward to getting home tonight and discovering at which point my coffee left me. Is it: on the ledge of my stairs OR did I take off with it on the roof of my car? Oh the mystery of it all.

3. I told both of these stories to co-workers today and then proceeded to dump diet coke down my face.

4. I then decided to water my plant. FAIL. The plant did not want the water and sent it right back at me off the leaves... and onto my desk of books and paper.

5. The question now remains: can I make it through 2 flights tomorrow without getting anything on me? I'd take that bet.

**(The Internet gremlins ate this post up the first time, for whatever reason, so we're reposting it again for your enjoyment! --V)**

Typical

I trip. I spill things. I break things. I do it all on a daily basis. I used to think I was coordinated and perhaps even graceful. When I was a freshman theatre major I started taking dance classes again. I called my mom and asked her why they hadn’t continued my dancing career as a child. Her response? “You weren’t very good.” (I’m sure she is going to comment and say this isn’t the case… and I suppose I could be exaggerating.) I’ve come to grips with my clumsiness. Thankfully those nearest and dearest have too. As I dumped a plateful of rice on the floor two weeks ago, David was quick to surmise, “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

So I apparently grabbed hold of that bit of encouragement and ran with it.

I took Sunday off from work so that I could visit David’s church for the first time. We had a great morning, went hiking in the mountains that afternoon and then returned to get ready for a nice dinner. I felt a little rushed as I did not want to be the one to make us late for dinner reservations.

While rushing the application of your shampoo is one thing... rushing with a new razor is ridiculously risky. I nicked my ankle and didn’t think much of it until I looked down and saw the blood. I decided to keep getting ready and just folded a piece of toilet paper over the wound. After all, that’s what men do, right? I obviously forgot about my ankle in the process, because post hair and make-up I proceeded to suit up – heels, hose, and dress. We left right on time and I was feeling pretty proud of myself until I gazed down at my ankle. The huge clump of toilet paper was mocking me from behind my tan hose. David offered to turn the car around, but I assured him I could make it work. I maneuvered the toilet paper down so that it was in my shoe. Problem solved.

Not so fast, Sydney Bristow.

What I didn't realize was that the moment I removed the toilet paper the cut started to bleed again. I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. I snagged a piece of Kleenex out of my purse and held it on my ankle for a moment and then checked the damage. The amount of blood running down my foot was incredible for the size of the wound. I laughed sheepishly as David’s eyes widened. His immediate response, “Apply hard pressure for five minutes, now.” I obeyed.

Here's the situation: date in suit and tie, myself clad in a dress and heals, positive and encouraging K-Love calming the situation as we drive down the freeway towards a very nice dinner reservation and I cling to my ankle.

It's four minutes into applying pressure and my hand is starting to ache. “Well,” I boast, “At least I’ve gotten my most embarrassing moment with you out of the way. Heh-heh. Good thing I’m cute, right?”

“Most embarrassing? How about your baby crying noise? Do we really think that was second date material?”

Good news: the bleeding stopped, dinner was amazing, and he seems to like the fact that I’m ridiculous. Yesss.

Flying it loud and proud?

"You have a freak flag...you just don't fly it." – The Family Stone

Some call it a freak flag, others a secret single behavior, needles to say, we've all got them...and I seem to have them in spades.

-I often imagine that a song playing in my car is actually the music behind the opening credits of a movie. I then commence to write my character’s entire back-story. Where am I going? What kind of car am I driving? If Fix You by Coldplay comes on, my character most certainly dies in a car accident. In the rain. In slow motion. It’s very touching and moving. It makes me cry.

-Sometimes when I’m at the gym I think I'm a real Bad you know what. I have this intense track of music playing in my head as I come through the door. I don’t make eye contact or smile. I purposefully act tough…it’s some sort of a coping mechanism. I also choose my shirts particularly – wearing anything on with the state of Texas mentioned on it. You should have been in my head last night as I wore my Texas shirt. “Yeah. That’s right. Texas. As in Longhorns. As in just won the game on Monday night. I wonder if that guy is thinking that he wish he had a Texas shirt? Probably.”

-I also like to roll my windows down while I listen to NPR on the radio. I don’t know, maybe it’s my way of making a statment to the world. “Check it out. Intelligent AND cultured. Beat that. Diddy ain’t got nothing on Michelle Norris.” I can pick out all of the correspondents just by the tenor of their voices. “That one? Come on. Ann Taylor. Yep. Another. Lakshmi Singh. Wicka, wicka, what!”

-I google my name. More often than you’d think.

-I wrap my arms around my pillow to sleep. Sometimes both of my arms fall asleep in the process. That actually happens quite often. Once I tried to shake them awake on my way to the bathroom. I didn’t turn the lights on as I wanted to return to sleep quickly. My arms wouldn’t cooperate and ended up knocking the toilet paper roll off of the wall and out onto the floor…in the dark. My arms were worthless for what seemed like hours. I began to feel desperation rising in my throat, “Dear God, I just want to go back to bed!!”

-I watched The Bachelorette last season, and might watch this season of The Bachelor. I hear Deanna is back. WT!?

-Sometimes when I meet a guy for the first time I think, "Remember this moment! This could be the one and people will ask you about this very moment in time!" It usually only takes me a few moments to then realize that this is in fact, not the one. Next.

-I ride the back of my grocery cart as I push it around the store, not constantly, but probably 4 or 5 times a shopping trip. I secretly hope other shoppers are amazed and confused by the sight of this.

-I can't cook without narrating everything that I am doing. "You want to take the E-V-O-O and just coat the bottom of the pot and get some nice heat on that." I'm constantly working on the presentation of the food I cook. I'm pretty good at "plating it up."

-I use material from comedians in everyday conversation and don’t let people know that I didn’t actually just think up all those jokes about Hot Pockets. (Thanks Jim.)

-I’m the funniest person I know. I promise it’s not an ego thing. It’s just that I can keep myself laughing the longest. I was g-chatting with my sister yesterday and started laughing about a joke I made. 45 minutes later still laughing. I’m hilarious.

-I eat a lot of grilled cheese sandwiches. Sometimes I eat them for lunch and dinner on the same day.

Not nearly everything, but enough to begin to wave my flag.

P.S. Peter Sagal is a rock star. Need I say more? Fly flag, fly.

Tagged for Seven

Dani tagged me for this fun "seven things" survey, which comes at the perfect time. Most of these items are things I've considered devoting whole blog entries to but just aren't long enough. So this makes for a great mosiac of randomness! Here we go, seven things I've never blogged about before...

1. I'm not typically a fan of fantasy or science fiction. At least, so I've thought. Witches, elves, vampires, they never really interested me. And I saw myself for a long time as staunchly separated from anything having to do with any of those things. "I'm not one of those people." And even as I began to enjoy certain sci-fi/fantasy (sci-fantasy?) shows, movies, and books, I qualified each of them as an exception to the rule. But recently I've begun to realize something. My favorite movie? Is "Lord of the Rings." Favorite books? "Harry Potter." Musical? "Wicked." Favorite TV drama? "Lost." Most recent book series read? "Twilight." Wait-- when did this happen? Y'all. I am totally geeking out! And you know what? I couldn't be more okay with that.

2. I'm currently reading Lana Turner's autobiography. It's a really exciting book, and I always love hearing the inside Hollywood story. However, I think prefer the self-deprecating tone of Debbie Reynolds or the unassuming and humble approach of Henry Fonda in their autobiographies. Lana was fabulous, yes, and most assuredly a screen icon. However, she certainly won't let you forget it! Hardly a page goes by that she doesn't mention how many men desired her, how valuable she was to MGM, how glamorous her nights on the town were, or how dramatic her entire life was. Ginger Rogers was the same way in her book: not necessarily conceited, but she never let you forget how popular she was or how influential her dancing has been. Some of it may be fawning by the ghostwriter, and I don't doubt it's all (or mostly) true, but seriously...give it a rest!

3. My new favorite game is Word Twist. I absolutely love it! You're given six letters and you try to make as many words as you can out of it. Very simple, and very addicting. I like to play right before bed, and the other night I woke up thinking "If you can make the word shelf then you can also make the words self and elf...." Cool, Val. Anyway, the best part is-- you get to play your friends! The competition is pretty fierce between Julie, Dani and I. Sometimes the clock is ticking toward zero and I haven't gotten the six letter word yet but Julie and Dani both have why can't I think of it and NOOOOO! Time's up. Widely. The word is widely. GAH!

4. "Legally Blonde: The Musical" is so. Much. Fun. I never thought I'd be here recommending it, but I just love it! It really is a quality show, and the songs are so sing-alongable. It's hilarious, the music is great, and I can't WAIT to see it on tour! Check out my favorite song from the show, "So Much Better:"

Love it! If you're interested in checking out more, my other favorite songs are "Chip On My Shoulder," "What You Want," and of course, the show opener, "Omigod You Guys!"

5. I keep a small squishy soccer ball (see what I did there, alliteration?) on my desk at work. It's fun to squeeze while I'm making phone calls or toss to people who walk through the door. Yesterday one of the part-timers and I went out into the long hallway to see how hard we could throw it at each other. What does my boss think of these crazy shenanigans? Well, the other week he led us in a longest putt competition in that same hallway, so I'd say he's okay with a little craziness every once in a while. And yes, we totally do real work at my office. Why do you ask?

6. When I was in sixth grade and Ginger was in eighth, we were in a wonderfully cheesy school play called "Thanks is Something You Give." The show involved a group of kids that raise money to give to a poor family, until OH NO! Someone STOLE the money. My character blames Ginger and turns the group against her, and she cries. Angels come down from heaven to help us (I'm not making this up) and in the end the real thief confesses. Who was it? Why it was me all along, of course!

7. One time several months ago my cousin Shannon and I went shopping at Target. She was looking for some new work-out clothes and found several items to try on. I sat in the dressing room opposite her so that as she modeled different outfits I could give her my opinion. After three or four different looks, she opened the door wearing a shirt that I instantly vetoed. "Oh, no," I said emphatically, shaking my head. "Definitely not." Seriously, I did everything short of sticking my finger down my throat and rolling my eyes. She just stood there staring at me, her smile widening. "What?" I asked, obliviously. Finally, it dawned on me just as she answered: "This is my shirt." Yeah, as in the shirt she came in wearing. Wow. Foot in mouth much, Val?*

*In my defense, though, it was a 3/4-length black shirt that looked like it would be very uncomfortable to exercise in! It was a nice shirt, not a workout shirt! See? I just had her best interests at heart. Love you, Shanni!

Tag! You're it: Amanda, Katie, and Kaki- who is doing NaBloPoMo and surely needs more new blog ideas!

Don't even talk to me about that NEBRASKA

Hummingbird thermometers, youth group presidents, and a secret loathing of Nebraska. If any of these sound intriguing, join me for another peek at a couple of old "stories" of mine as well as a special bonus feature!

Story #1 (7th grade? 8th?)

I was going to hate it. I just knew I wouldn't make any new friends at all. They would all think I was a snob. I just knew it. It was easy to think I was, but really I wasn't. If you had just met me, though, you'd think I was. A snob, I mean. Let me tell you why:
My name is Charlotte Amanda Jones. I have soft blue eyes and curly blonde hair.

Perhaps this is what Past Valerie wished she looked like?

At school I'm the captain of my basketball team, head cheerleader, captain of the drill team, class president, editor of the school newspaper, I play the percussion in band, I rank #1 in class, I'm president of my youth group at church,

You guys-- YOUTH GROUP PRESIDENT? WHAT??

and I my boyfriend is the quarterback of the football team. My father is a reporter for the most watched TV channel [Of course.] and my mother is a psychyatrist. I live in a, well, a mansion and a limosene. [She lives in a limo?] My much older sister is a fashion designer. I am a sophomore at Sunnyside Christian Academy in California.

I just want to slap this girl, I really do. Fortunately the "story" ends there. I think Miss Perfect was going to move to another state not quite as glamorous as California and learn to make new friends or something. Hopefully there would also be an incident involving a new friend's fist. But probably not.

Story #2 (Again, probably either 7th or 8th)

It was a warm day, and I am really stretching it to simply call it “warm.” It was so incredibly hot and humid that staying inside was the only real solution for such a day as this was. [Are we quoting Esther here? What is this?] As I woke up that morning, I was only semi-surprised after looking out my window to find my younger sister Julia outside. I was surprised since my hummingbird thermometer read 93 degrees at 9 o’clock in the morning and she was out there. [93 degrees! We’re talking Fahrenheit, you guys! I don’t know how Julia is still alive in that boiling heat. And apparently the narrator is 87 years old, what with her hummingbird thermometer and all.] On the other hand, I was not all that astonished because my sister is in love with anything and everything that has leaves.

Also known as….nature?

All of nature you could say.

Oh, well there you go!

On this particular morning she was planting some new flowers in her miniature garden in the front lawn. Daddy always says, “As long as she keeps the yard nice, that’s one less thing I have to do.” [Daddy sounds like kind of a bum!] I stumbled out of bed and made my way to the kitchen.
“Good morning, Samantha dear. I’m glad you woke up so I could see you before I left,” said my mother.
"Left?" I asked. "Where are you going?"
"Oh, Samantha. Just because you have summer vacation from school doesn't mean that I have vacation from the studio."
Oh yeah. Mom works for advertisement agency.

Are you guys ready for my idea of what someone who works for an ad agency does?

She thinks up ideas and makes primitive sketches on paper. [Caveman sketches???] She doesn't like to say "the office" because she thinks it says stiff and boring. So she calls it "the studio" which is perfectly fine with me.

I'm sure Mom is glad she has Samantha's approval on this one!

Unfortunately, that is where this little "story" ends. I have no idea where it was headed. Most likely Samantha and Julia were going to get into some crazy hot weather shenanigans in the miniature garden.

BONUS! Valerie's favorites! I know it's a huge surprise that I would have made a list, but here's a list of my favorite things from when I was probably about...12? Yeah, we'll go with 12.

Valerie Morby
Favorites-
Color- green - 2nd purple
Number- 13
Day- Fri.
animal- panther (...Why?)
car- mustang
B.ball team- Rockets & Bulls
state- Texas
book- And Condors Danced & Gone w/ the Wind
TV show- Step by Step (Wow.)
movie- Newsies & Grease & That T. Y. Do (Too cumbersome to actually write out the words "That Thing You Do?")
song- That Thing Y. Do & We go Together & Holy Cow (aka King of New York) & 409
group- BEACH BOYS
~~~~
LEAST Favorites-
color- Pink
number- 7 (Again....why?)
Day- Wed
animal- chicken
car-
B.ball team- Mavericks (I know! Such a traitor.)
state- Nebraska (I find this hilarious because I have no idea why I would have said this.)
book-
TV show- Power Rangers
movie- The Secret of Rone Inish (Horrible movie my grandma rented for me once.)
song- It's all coming back to me (Lol! Oh, Celine....)
group- Beatles

Maybe someday I'll get down to the bottom of my deep seated hatred for chickens and the number 7.... If I ever figure it out, I'll let you know!

Flight Plan

Did you know that water on a United Airlines flight will set you back $2.00? All I wanted was a cup of tap water, something to wet my parched throat. What a bunch of Scrooges. And no, I don’t carry cash on me. I made this lovely discovery on my most recent trek back to Texas.

Thankfully I was able to enjoy the window seat without having to worry about my elbows being crushed by my neighbors. By the time I boarded for the flight home I was ready to enjoy a relaxing few hours reading “Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life.” But of course, I can’t relax on a flight – and not because of fear of flying. The whole experience is just dreadful for me. I hate having to lift my carry-on suitcase above my head and heave it into a bin, especially when I have to walk 15 rows back from my seat to do so, thus insuring that I will have to sit on the plane until most of the passengers have disembarked from the aircraft. I find my seat and then spend the next half hour hoping that the seat next to mine will somehow be empty. This was of course not the case on this most recent flight.

Let me set the scene for you. I was in row 6. Row 5 was the first row past first class. The woman in front of me had nowhere to store her carry-on bag, so she placed it below her seat – leaving me with nowhere to place my laptop bag. The mature response would have been to try and get her attention and simply ask her to move her bag. I also considered addressing the flight attendant, but she was clearly occupied elsewhere. So – wonderful person that I am – I place my laptop bag under the seat and ever so slowly begin to push with my legs hoping that either her bag would allow for the addition of my bag, or that she would my subtle message. But I realize this isn’t working. So I push harder. I’m even starting to get winded, but I’m trying not to let the people in my row notice. I’m starting to panic. I do not want to be parted with another of my bags. The last time someone took my bag it ended up in Indianapolis.

Finally the flight attendant comes by and suggests I put my bag in an overhead bin. No way. No in the heck way. I need my things next to me, I have rights. I begin my explanation calmly enough, but soon discover the pitch in my voice rising, the volume as well. Suddenly I’m 12 years old.

“It’s just that her bag is under the chair where my bag is supposed to fit and so I don’t have any leg room and I need to be able to do some work and I would try to get it to fit, but it won’t work and…”

Just then the woman in front of me apologizes profusely in a kind manner, removes her bag and quickly hands her possession to be packaged in the upper realm.

Whew. All good. Until an hour later I find myself calmly reading about the quirks of Amy Krouse Rosenthal when the gum I’ve been chewing drops from my mouth straight down my shirt – a la Nashvegas style. I begin going over my options to retrieve the foreign object. Do I ride the rest of the flight conscious of the problem? Do I make my way to the smallest lavatory in the world, hoping along the way that the gum does not lodge itself further and become stuck to my clothing? Or do I try and pull a Sydney Bristow, pull off the impossible while everyone else sits casually around me? I decide to take action, knowing all the while that this might one day make great material for a blog post…if I am brave enough to actually follow through with this. I slowly turn to gaze out the window at the passing clouds and pull my book up close to me. Perhaps I looked deep in thought, hopefully no one was watching.

Good news – I retrieved the gum – and of course I instinctively put it back in my mouth and begin chewing. Eat it, Sydney Bristow.

Photos by Booknero and Sierraromeo

Waiting for my Pulitzer!

Y'all in for quite a treat today. I have delved deep into the folders and boxes of my past just for you. And Memory Lane has been pretty much hilarious for me to walk down. Won't you come along with me? All spelling and grammatical errors have been kept in tact....

First, let's start with a heartfelt letter from Ginger. This is a note I got from my dear sister while I was away at camp one summer.

Val- Hope you are having a great week at camp. enjoy all of the funnies. Oh and by the way you have a 7:00 VBS meeting Tuesday that is mandatory -G

Aww..... Isn't that sweet? And before you excuse her for being too young to write more, please know that she was a SENIOR in HIGH SCHOOL. Yeah. Oh, the love we have for each other....

Okay, enough sisterly nostalgia. Time for a story!

This is a story that I wrote for a school contest. In seventh grade. The theme of the contest was "Ready for Action." Apparently I took the idea of a theme and drove it into the ground. No, through the ground. The story is quite long and very boring, so I'll just give you a small sample.

Gladys Kanger --

Wait, WHAT? Gladys KANGER?? And the oddest name award goes to....

Gladys Kanger was always prepared. She wasn't a Boy Scout or anything. No, no of course not. One couldn't imagine the inconvenience of being a Boy Scout.

No, one couldn't, could one?

Or even a Girl Scout at that matter. The bugs, the flies, the tromping around to just nowhere in particular was out of the question. And above all, the uncleanliness. Yes, it was a fact. Gladys [really? Gladys?] absolutely hated camping, and especially, in a group such as with Boy or Girl Scouts.

This sentence makes no sense to me, not only because I am crazy comma happy, but also because I used to go camping ALL the TIME! I love camping! Also, it should be noted that I had quit the Girl Scouts the year before I wrote this. Coincidence?

She knew though also, that they did not just go camping. She knew that. Several years ago a flier had come in the mail about Girl Scouts.
"How about it Gladys?" her mother had asked. "You want to try it?"
Gladys, who loved her mother dearly and wanted to please her, replied sweetly, "Of course Mother. I'd love to. Sign me up right away!"

Mother dear, I think something's wrong with Gladys. Can we say BAD SEED? Creepy!

Two meetings later, she quit. It was terribly unorganized, she disliked the monotonous songs and recitations, and she hated the way they wasted their time on stupid little crafts only to be thrown away, or used as dust collectors by the unorganized that stubbornly refused to get rid of them.

Wow. Apparently I had a lot of Girl Scout aggression to take out! Let's skip ahead a bit....

Gladys loved oragnization, convenience, and structure. She had such qualities, and because of them many people said she was ready for action. Ready for a war, or kidnapping, or something of the sort to come along. She was ready.

Ready for WAR and KIDNAPPING??? My gosh, where does this child LIVE?

She never verbalized any unnatural or unkind feelings, never voiced them. That's why people liked her. She was organized, well kept, and always said nice and charming things.

Gladys is scaring me. Skipping ahead again....

Gladys had once almost fallen off a bridge in Connecticut [???], but she had been thinking, ready for action in her mind. [OF COURSE SHE WAS!] So when she tipped to one side in a split second she had the hard metal railing gripped in her hand.

You think this story is odd and insane? No. It is not. Keep reading.

When her younger brother was little she had ground this theory into his head. She'd pass by his door and whisper, 'ready for action!' into his bedroom [Creeptacular!!] and it was henceforth imbedded [Someone's been using their thesaurus!] on his little mind. On one occasion he was at the zoo running this saying through his mind [OF COURSE HE WAS!]. He stood in the rail by the gorilla cage, which is a good 10 feet down, and nearly fell in, but since ready for action was continually ringing around in his little head--

Time out! Why are there TWO references to how small the brother's head is? Is it abnormally small? Does he have a regular sized body and a tiny little skull? That's what I'm picturing here. Time in!

--he was prepared enough to throw himself backwards [oh whatEVer!] onto a grassy slope behind him which he had noticed before. [I hope that conveniently grassy slope was enough to cushion his little baby head!]

The rest of the story just as ridiculous and insane, and the climax of the "action" comes when Gladys suddenly comes to the realization that she has no life because all she does is think about being ready, but has nothing to be ready for. Last paragraph: Gladys discovered she loved sports. She still didn't think Girl Scouts was for her, but she became less critical of it and other things. Throughout her busy life, her motto stayed the same. I am ready for action!

Bet you never knew how much pleasure you could derive from gorillas and Girl Scouts and tiny heads and Connecticut, did you? You're amazed to hear I did NOT win the writing contest, I can tell.

Finally, let's take a look at an old writing exercise.

8th grade. The assignment was to write where we thought everyone in the class (there were only 16 of us) would end up in 20 years. I'll spare you the details of what happened to everyone else in the 8th grade, although it does involve an incident at a Hanson concert, a person missing in Africa, and a band called "The Horses." And yes, I came up with that name all by myself! If you need a band name, just get in touch with me. I have HUNDREDS of ideas like this. Anyway, I thought you might enjoy reading about where I saw myself in the year 2028! I'm halfway there, so let's see how I'm doing on my life goals.

I live in Galveston, Texas, and am married.

Strikes one and two. Also: Galveston? Really? Let's aim high in our future fantasies, shall we?

I have two children, twins.

Strike three!

9 years ago I began as a junior high school theatre teacher for 1 year.

Apparently this will happen next year! Score!

Since then, I have been directing.

One year of teaching middle school drama totally prepares you for being a director. Didn't you know?

I am working on my 4th movie. 2 of them I won best director Oscars for, and all three were nominated for best picture and 2 won.

Way to stay humble, Val! Can't win every award, now can we? Better leave some for the other junior high drama teachers!

---------
I have a few more gems that I can't wait to share with you, but those will just have to wait for another day. Be sure to come back and read all about the most full-of-it character in the history of ever, Snobby McSnobberson, from Snobsville, California!

Until then, I am.... READY FOR ACTION!

[PS-- Check out my new favorite blog 30 is the new 13 for some hilarious stories of another former preteen "author." She's the inspiration for this entry, and her blog is amazing- you'll love it.]

Guest Book

I attended a lovely wedding this past weekend. I had met my friend through a Bible Study group here in Phoenix. Shannon bravely scheduled her outdoor wedding in the month of May. This time of year is tricky in Arizona. The weather is either on it’s way to hot, hot, or unbearably hot. The high on Saturday was 91 degrees, not terrible, but let’s just say that I’m thankful to not have been wearing a tux.

I drove across town listening to yet another book on tape and managed to pull into the parking lot around 5:10pm. The ceremony was to begin at 6:00pm. I enjoy being early. I keep a spare book in my car for when I arrive to my destinations ahead of schedule, as I’m prone to do. I finally decided to get out of the car at 5:15pm and make my way to The Wright House. It’s a lovely place to have a wedding or reception. I couldn’t quite figure out where to enter, as the doors and gates were posted with “please use the front entrance.” I walked around to the front entrance slowly (I wear heels about 3 times a year now) only to come up to a large oak door. Everyone else had been entering the “forbidden” entrances and now no one was going through this front entrance. Frightened of somehow embarrassing myself (what a thought) I decided to follow the crowd through one of the back gates. On my way I spotted my friend Rachel and her husband Anthony. They parked and then I decided to lead them through a door following some other guests. As we passed a blank sign holder I threw out my thought – “This really should say the name of the bride and groom here so you know where the entrance is!”

I vaguely recall passing a server with a cheese tray and then spotting the guest book propped on a table with two attendants standing by. I proceeded to the table and noticed the framed engagement photo with room for signing as well. To be efficient, I slid over to the guest book and penned my name in my finest cursive and left room for Rachel to sign well wishes on the matting around the photo. I had no sooner set the pen down when Rachel turned to me with wide eyes.

Rachel: Ginger, this isn’t Shannon in the picture.
Ginger: It’s not?
Rachel: And that’s not Kyle.
Ginger: Oh…
Rachel: This is the wrong wedding!!

We tore out of that garden like we had stolen something. Laughing eventually ensued as we found our way to the 2nd ceremony location at the Wright House. We asked everyone we saw if this was indeed Shannon’s wedding.


I signed a second guest book that day before taking my seat and settling in for a wedding.

Waiting to Explicate

Sometimes waiting is the worst. Especially in the case of: the night before the first day of school, Christmas Eve, grocery store lines, movie theatre slides before the previews, and long traffic lights with censors that don’t pick up your car so you back up and pull forward repeatedly in hopes that you will trip the sensor. I’m sure there are many other things that come to mind. I know much of it has to do with our culture. I need my microwave burrito faster and I find myself frustrated when the Internet takes too long to load. Sometimes I scream loudly on my insides about having to wait, and often times in my car, I scream on the outside.

I think I’ve been doing a little bit of screaming. I’m generally quite content and have been for a good period of time. I’ve tried to tell myself that wishing time away will result in a life not fully lived, and who wants that? I’m in a little bit of a holding pattern for the minute. I’m hoping that I’m not missing out on anything, but I really feel as if I have been holding my breath for too long and fear that I may just faint before I’m giving the OK to come up for some water. Breathe.

Last week I walked into my photography class full of anticipation. We would be presenting our goals and desires to the whole class and then a sample of some of our work. I had typed out my answer and even brought along some pieces by other photographers to illustrate the style of photography that I admire. I kept waiting for my name to be called. I was called second to last out of the whole class. I really felt sick to my stomach and kept stacking my papers in various orders. I wasn’t nervous to present, I just couldn’t concentrate on anyone else while I was waiting. Please God don’t let me be like this in real life! As I wait to hear about an opportunity for adventure this fall, I’m reminded of my inner response in photography class. Am I so wrapped up in presenting/living my story, that I’m ignoring the stories all around me?

I learned a lot by going last in my class…well, second to last. I couldn’t believe the emotional response I had by the time it was my turn. I began to ramble, didn’t even pull out my typed goals, and showed only one example of photography I admire. My whole plan went down the drain. Instead, I sat on the front of the desk and started at a slow pace and ended up high pitched and teary-eyed speaking about the LRA and Night Commuting in Uganda. When I finally finished and sat down at my desk I felt flushed and a little foolish. Class was eventually dismissed around 9:15pm and I shrinked out of the room wanting to transport to my car. I’m by far the youngest in my class and the only one who had been so emotional in their explanation. I walked across the parking lot speaking out loud, “Stupid! Just stick to your paper!”

In retrospect, I’m fine with my emotional presentation. I’m also fine with this waiting period. I just like to be prepared and this portion of time between decision and action is challenging me and reminding me to take deep breaths and just wait, for Pete’s sake.

Does anyone here sing?

Easter has always been a wonderful time to be a member of my extended family. The cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and many dogs head down to Galveston, TX to spend the weekend together. 21 people in any house can be a good time…as long as it’s not raining.

We’ve always had good times in Galveston. The excitement of Easter derived not only from the celebration of the Resurrection, but also from the Easter Egg hunt and the Cha-Cha church. The church isn’t actually called the Cha-Cha church, that’s just what a majority of my family calls the church. We attended the gathering one Easter Morning and were quite the fish out of water. These folks were rocking on the hymns, and I don’t mean that sarcastically. At that point in our lives, (my brother, sister, and I) this was the rowdiest church we had ever attended. Perhaps it was the electric organ in place of our usual pipe organ, or the excited sopranos in the front row…whatever the case, my brother asked the next year if we would be attending the Cha-Cha church again.

We in fact attended the little church many times over the past decades. Our large family would absorb half of the seating. There was always a rush to be the grandchild lucky enough to sit with Grandma. Not only would Grandma tickle your arm with her fingernails until your skin almost fell off, but she was a surefire guarantee for a great laugh during the service. If any Soprano in the front row should make an excited expression we were all in for it. 3 rows of shaking Lutherans who had been trained to listen with respect and silence were now losing it as they watched their Matriarch crumple in tears of laughter.

I remember one particular Easter when we decided to attend the early service. Usually our enormous clan could file into the sanctuary in shifts not really making a blip on the radar. The early service was almost completely empty when we arrived. We entered in taking our usual seats on the right and gasped as we noticed a new organist and the absence of the Island Choir. We all waited to see what this would mean for the service. As usual, the Pastor offered for any children to make their way to a special class and no one from our section obeyed. We do not leave our formation, no matter how hard aunts and uncles prod. Don’t make me leave the pack! So we remained and the sermon proceeded and everything went as on as usual. That was until the end came too soon for the Pastor. He glanced up from his hymnal and looked at our brood and said, “Well, I suppose we have time for some special music. Does anyone here sing?” In unison, 19 heads turned and looked my way. Oh joy. I was pulled up on stage to sing a duet with the Pastor. He offered to let me choose the song. I picked the first Easter song I could find, “Victory in Jesus.” We prepared to sing when suddenly the little organist cried out, “I don’t think I know that one.” Well, we didn’t let that stop us. Oh no. My dad was sent up to accompany us and that morning I sang “Victory in Jesus” with the Pastor of the Cha-Cha church.

The next year a similar situation came about, but I was not about to be sacrificed by my family. I stepped onto the stage with at least five cousins in tow. The early service received their special and in return my family took Easter Eggs from the hunt...the eggs that were supposed to be from the special Children's Service. "O'Doyle's Rule!"

"Christ the Lord is risen today..."

Secret Single (or always single) Behavior

Some people call them "guilty pleasures." Sex and the City (err...never seen it) would call it "Secret Single Behavior," as in the things you could never do in front of your boyfriend. Carrie confesses that when no one else is around, she likes to eat grape jelly on crackers standing up at the counter while reading Vogue.

Most of the time, it's not all that secretive, and we don't generally feel guilty for doing it. It's not always even that outrageous, just something that's slightly weird. For one of my college roommates it was always blowing on her curling iron before using it on her hair. Obviously it's nothing too secret or embarassing, otherwise I wouldn't be listing it in a blog. And I would never refer to it as "Secret Single Behavior," because I've never really not been single. I'm going to list just a few of my little quirks, and hopefully you will comment with some of yours!

-Coming home after work and immediately removing all articles of clothing and going straight for pajamas at 5:30 p.m.

-Sometimes I like to work out to classical music. Lately it has been Beethoven's 6th Symphony.

-High School Musical. Is it wrong that I own both the dvd and the cd? And that I can't wait for the sequel to come out on Friday?

-I fall asleep to Gilmore Girls. Every night.

-I'm not an organized person in the least, but my dvd's (all 160+ of them) must remain alphabetized at all times.

-I watch all of Kathy Griffin's comedy specials whenever they're on Bravo. Usually several times.

-Still purchase and read Archie comics. Still.

-Many times I will have entire conversations with someone in my car. By myself. Either things I really wish I could say, or things I would say if I could actually talk to that person. Sometimes I end up yelling, and a lot of times I end up crying.

-Practicing the poses and challenges I see on America's Next Top Model. I know.

-I eat peanut butter right out of the jar.

-I eat honey right out of the jar.

-I eat a lot of things right out of the jar.

-I love to file my nails while laying on my couch and watching E! News.