Monthly Archives: November 2010

Chuck Norris told me to…

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knit.

No he didn’t. I don’t know Chuck Norris. I just saw that phrase today on Facebook and I liked it, so I used it.

I did start knitting today. It’s been a while since I have knitted and I was like “do I really remember how to do this?” I did, if you were wondering.

I really enjoy do crafts like that. I like to knit, embroider, scrapbook (though I’m not to good at that). I am a crafty like person, just not overly so sometimes.

My family is kind of crafty. I learned some of my skills from my grandmothers. One grandma taught me how to embroider, even though the French knot still eludes me, and the other taught me to knit and kind of taught me kind of to have an artistic eye.

My cousins and second cousins and an uncle are really handy and crafty and all that good stuff. I liked growing up with that. Granted my family is a great many things and crafty is just one of them, but it’s kind of fun just to sit around and talk about projects or just sit and work on projects. I like that I can get advice for FREE from family instead of tracking down a store and asking an employee there or something.

If one couldn’t tell from other posts on my blog, I talk about family a reasonable amount. I get along with my family, I love hanging out with my family and this is one thing that we can all share, I mean not all of us do and that’s cool but it’s not something everyone’s family does. But it suits us just fine and we’ll keep it like that. Just try and make us be any different. It won’t work very well.

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Oh Mel…

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I like movies. I like most genres of movies. I like drama, comedy, musicals, old movies, oh man, I could go on all day.

There are few genres I can’t find love for. Porn, weird seventies movies that play with lighting and make it feel like you’re on drugs, that kind of stuff.

My favorite kind of movie, however, has to be kind of the slap stick comedy. Like Mel Brooks, he’s a good example. He’s kind of what I want to be when I grow up. I mean I don’t know anything about his personal life, other than knowing Alan Alda and his wife and he’s Jewish, but I want to be funny. I want to be the kind of creative person that can come up with dumb jokes that are just dumb enough to make people laugh. He acts, he directs, he writes. What doesn’t this man do? I’m sure he could give you some answers to that question, but I will ignore those answers. Given, I have my creative moments and I have my little funny moments, but…..nothing like this man.

I kind of want to be in his head. What’s his thought process, what’s in his head when he visualizes things? I have that thought about a lot of people, Mel Brooks isn’t the only one.

If I had to pick a favorite movie….”Robin Hood: Men in Tights”. It’s the first Mel Brooks movie I ever watched, it’s almost the first more “advanced”, I use that word loosely, movie that I really got the humor. The little music numbers are hilarious and I think some of the one liners in that movie are amazing.

I know my life is a little boring since I’m talking about Mel Brooks and my grandma’s hands and the such, but that’s me like or leave it, whatever. I’ll still love you.

Mental State

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So I’m reading “Comanche Moon” right now. It’s part of the Lonesome Dove tetralogy. It’s over 700 pages long and it’s slow going with the reading. It’s not that it’s badly written, it’s just it’s not something I usually read and there’s a lot going on so I have to read little bits at a time to process it all.

side note- Don’t tell my dad this, but it’s kind of because of him I’m reading these books. I kind of like him, A LOT, I’m a daddy’s girl and I like to have things to talk to him about, like westerns and I know this is a horribly structured sentence….BACK OFF.

Anyway, in the book they have this captain of the rangers gets his war-horse stolen by the Comanches and he goes a little mental. One of the rangers says something to the point of “If a body can heal, I suppose a mind can too” This comment really stuck out to me.

I’m not one who usually dwells on a line of a book. I read too much to do that. The only way I do that is if it’s really cool. The only line I can remember off-hand is in Wiesel’s book “All Rivers Run to the Sea” where he talks about the first line and the last line… I digress…

I think this line came bursting out to me because I really wonder at times if a mind can be fixed. I have doubts that a mind can fully be fixed. I think that after a mind is “broken” it can improve but never fully get better. I have random thoughts like this. I have i-pod thinking.

I’m not saying that this character believes everything is better after you go crazy and you come back but I think that he didn’t think it out. He didn’t have to. His job was to be a Texas Ranger, like Walker, not a psychiatrist.

I think that thinking about the deep subjects is important. Not overdoing it but thinking deep a little every day. Granted you can’t plan for every situation that comes up but I think that thinking deep helps keep the mind at an active and healthy state. That’s my 2 cents. šŸ™‚

When Crisco is a Memory…

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So today I was making some chocolate chip cookies. Kind of my specialty. Anyway, I used to make chocolate chip cookies with my grandma from my mother’s side. And today my hands making cookies triggered a memory.

Growing up, I never remember seeing that grandma much. Or it may have been a lot, but I don’t think so. I saw my paternal grandma all the time, she babysat me, so that made seeing the other grandma a rare and splendid occasion.

Anyway, you know the things you forget about and then something or someone just triggers that memory? I had that today. It was my hands

So like I said, baking cookies today, was a grandma and Megan thing to do. And when I was little, I remember my grandma’s hands. Grandma’s hands were special and maybe that’s the reason that I remembered them when I was little. See grandma is a many things. She’s a musician, an artist, an afghan maker and now (great) grandma.

Now that Grandma’s hands are more arthritic and have done these things, they kind of have a curve to them in the fingers. When I was little it was just a slight curve. Now it’s time to tie this in with baking. When we baked, grandma’s hands would get warm, obviously. I always remembered her hands the slight greasyness from the Crisco and the smell of cookies, more chocolate chip than anything else. And grandma likes hugs so combine all that and it’s definitely a pleasant memory.

Not only is grandma’s hands soft and remind me of cookies but they’re tough. They reflect who she is as a woman. Grandma had 3 children and adopted two. She knows her stuff, she tells her grandchildren (me) what she thinks they need to do with their lives. She was the wife of a trucker and who eventually lost her husband to Alzheimer’s after many, many, MANY years of marriage. She has a deep faith that keeps her positive. Grandma could be easily described as an old family bible, getting up there in age, showing it and still very needed. So point of that paragraph is that you can tell what kind of person grandma is by her hands, which you can do with many people.

I was looking at my hands today while I was making cookies and I kind of felt them and I was like “grandma”. My hands felt like her hands for a little bit. I can only wish that I am just a fraction like her. I want to be that strong and that independent but have a softness about me as well. One can hope.

I love my grandma, she can’t ever die. I’m pretty sure. I’d be lost without grandma. But when she does die, there will always be Crisco and chocolate chip cookies.

Time Machine

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As I have said before, I think I was born in the wrong time period. I’m too old fashioned, I’m not finding the right job, I like the way the way that Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte write, etc. etc.

I have a minor in history. Usually not a big thing, but I’m kind of a geek. I like reading biographies and autobiographies, I like reading historical novels. I have a vivid imagination, so I often put myself in historical novels. I don’t do it in a creepy way. I may have some creepy moments but I don’t let my imagination get carried away.

Sometimes I wish I had a time machine. Not a big clunky machine but I also don’t want it to be like in “The Time Traveler’s Wife” where I just disappear and show up naked. Let it be a newspaper of the time and place you want to go to or something you can control easily.

I can’t decide when and where I want to go to. Because I do have a minor in history, it makes it hard. I could go back to the major wars in American history that I have always wondered about, I could go talk to the literature greats like Shakespeare and Whitman and so forth. One for sure would to go back and meet my grandpa on my dad’s side. He died before any of us kids were born and just to talk to him would make me happy. I mean, he isn’t talked about much around here so it would be nice to meet him once.

I am thankful for where I am at right now, but I’m curious. There are many people on my list to talk to other than my grandpa. So that’s that.

How Lame am I?

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So, I’ve been working part-time at a clothing store, Christopher and Banks to be exact, part-time starting a couple of weeks ago. And I’m commuting.

I live in North Dakota.

There was a storm last night and I was working.

I was like I’m not to worried I have friends here. So I text one of my old roommates and she was out drinking. Texted the other one. She was at home with her parents and has a psycho roommate now. Texted one of my oldest friends, in South Dakota. Texted one of my old Medora co-workers, working a night shift at the hospital…Yeah that’s my life.

So I call my parents and I was like what do I do, I shouldn’t be driving in these conditions, I could die. My mom was like well call these people they like you. This couple, Monte and Debbie are cool people. They are friends of my grandparents and have known me for quite some time. So I give them a call and explain how all my friends SUCK and I have no where to bunk.

She goes yeah but we don’t live in town anymore…..my heart sank. But then she was like we’re only a mile and a half out and I perked up and I was like totally doable.

I got lost. In Dickinson, North Dakota. How lame am I? In my defense, um, yeah, SNOW STORM!!!! But I got there okay. No one worry please.

If anyone asks, the house is amazing. They’re basement is like where I want to live for the rest of my life.

I went to church with them this morning and usually, I’m Marie’s granddaughter but today I have a name. It was pretty sweet.

Icky

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So I’ve been working part-time at a clothing store for the past few weeks. I like having a job. I used to have this job until it interfered with work. This job is now an hour away.

This being an hour away sucks.

They schedule me for four (4) hour shifts. So four hours of part-time almost minimum wage work to 2 hours of driving, round trip. Does this make sense?

No. It doesn’t

I do appreciate this job because it is something. BUT couldn’t we work something more convenient out for me? Give me a couple 8 hour shifts, that seems more worth it to me than 4 and driving back and forth all the time.

It doesn’t help that I’m a little moody tonight does it?

I suppose not.