And all this time I though Christy was so wholesome...

Actual conversation with DJ Smith and me right before bed the other night:

DJS: What is that trash you are reading?

Me: TRASH? Christy by Catherine Marshall is NOT trash! 

DJS: It looks like trash. What's it about?

Me: It's about a girl who goes to teach poor children in Southern Appalachia, BENNY. 

DJS: You're making that up. It looks a 1920's version of 50 Shades of Grey.

Me: Well it's not. And I don't know that for sure because I certainly never read them. Ahem. 

DJS: You read 50 Shades of Grey?

Me: Yes, all three of them. SHUT UP. In any event, Christy is not even remotely like that dumb Anastasia Steele. Here, let me read you the summary. "In the year 1912, nineteen-year-old Christy Huddleston leaves home to teach school in the Smoky Mountains -- and comes to know and love the resilient people of the region, with their fierce pride, their dark superstitions, their terrible poverty, and their yearning for beauty and truth. But her faith will be severely challenged by trial and tragedy, by the needs and unique strengths of two remarkable young men, and by a heart torn between true love and unwavering devotion." 

DJS: I rest my case.

Me: Huh. That does make her sound kinda trampy. 

In other news, I work with a librarian who told me I could blog about this, but not to use her real name. She wanted me to make an alias for her and I just realized if I add one itty bitty extra vowel to her last name you get the word "Ruffian." So, Ruffian, this one's for you:

I got this disturbing text from a colleague yesterday: "I have knives for you. They are in my new office in a blue bag hanging. This is not some weird stalker thing."

After a confused exchange I figured out that she had remembered I needed new knives and had come into a Scrooge McDuck-esque knife fortune recently and was happy to share. Sure enough, a few hours later a blue bag full of knives made their way to my desk. 

She was not fooling around.

i have an assortment of murder weapons. it was megan, in the loft with one of of her 11 new knives. 

man, i really can't wait to cleave something.

Here's the conversation that occurred when I was in her office returning the bag:

Me: Here's your bag back. I tried to think of something to put in it to give to you when I returned it but all I could think to put in it was like shotgun shells or broken glass or something and I didn't have any of those things so I left it empty. Emily Post fail. 

R: No problem! 

Me: How come you have so many new knives by the way? 

R: I didn't tell you this? They were in a box on my front porch one day. 

Me:.....um, excuse me?

R: Yeah, I know, right? It's a bit strange.

Me: STRANGE? I quite possibly am officially in possession of murder weapons!!! Who leaves boxes of knives on random people's door steps? 

R: Calm down! They're new!

Me: A MURDERER WOULD HAVE BEEN PREPARED AND MADE THOSE BLOODY KNIVES LOOK NEW. Great. I'm an accomplice to murder. Potentially. 

Actually, wait. The more I think about it, the very first text I ever got from the Ruffian FREAKED ME RIGHT ON OUT. I had called her and asked her to stop by my office the next day and never heard from her. The next day, having forgotten I'd called her, and forgotten I'd given her my cell phone number I got a text from a strange number that just said: Are u in your office? I panicked for about an hour before I finally remembered I was trying to reach her and finally texted her back that I was not. But from now on I put NAMES with numbers in my phone immediately. 

Ruffian, I get it. You're officially out to get me. Message. Received. You earned your nickname. 

All I got for today. Over and out.

Is it hungry? Or is it nausea?

Probably goes without saying - I hate throwing up. And I rarely am ill and therefore have probably thrown up maybe less than ten times in my life. And I had my very first bout of food poisoning recently and am therefore a bit.... how you say? Gun shy when it comes to puking these days.

So imagine the gamut of emotions I experienced the other day whilst dining with the family the other day:

Waiter, delivering pizza to the table, including two small cheese pizzas for Max and Lucy: and here you go, pizza for you, and be careful! It's hot!

Lucy, smelling the pizza: urrrrpppp....

Mama: Lucy? You all right?

Me, looking over at Lucy holding her mouth in one hand and her stomach in the other: Lucy, does something hurt?

Lucy: *silent as the grave*

Me: Lucy, can you tell me what's wrong? Do you not feel good?

Lucy: i feel like i have to throw up.

Me, inwardly groaning....

Mama, eye contact with me: I'll take her.

Me, inwardly rejoicing.....

Lucy: Aunt Megan! Aunt Megan!

Me, inwardly groaning.... Ok sweetie, let's go. *walking to bathroom gingerly holding Lucy's hand*

Me, inside the bathroom: Lucy, are you going to be sick? Do you want me to come in the stall with you?

Lucy: No, I think I need to go to the bathroom. *proceeds to tinkle and come out of the stall*

Me, now panicking because I may or may not be leading a nauseated child back into the dining room: Lucy, are you sure you're ok? You feel sick still?

Lucy: I think I'm just very, very hungry.

Me, now with an added level of panic because we're now about to test the hungry vs. nausea theory with cheese pizza: Are you sure you feel all right?

Lucy: Oh, yes. I'm just very, very hungry.

You'll be glad to know we succeeded in the hungry vs. nausea theory and she was indeed very hungry and proceeded to eat an entire cheese pizza minus the crusts, which I kindly ate for her.

lucy pre-pretend-puking taking a picture of babs, dipsey and halo.

That's all the news I have for today. Over and out.

Oh wait. One more thing. I forgot my phone at DJ Smith's house today and he very kindly texted me to tell me he had it and would bring it to work (haha). When he called and said he was swinging through it was in the middle of a scheduled fire alarm and no less than three people told me to not worry about leaving the building, it was a test alarm. I think my co-workers may be trying to kill me. Need to look into that.

CSA fail

After the delicious and beautiful beet cake I made the other day, I decided to try my hand at blueberry cake.

Not so much. I had to serve it via scoops, not slices. Tasted pretty ok though.

i am unashamed of my craptacular bundt.

VenableCon 2014

I love family vacations. I love my family, and I love spending time with them. When I lived far away, I looked forward to those one week reality breaks when I got to see and spend time with them non-stop for seven whole days. I would cry tears of joy when I drove over the causeway at the start of the vacation and cried bitter, already-homesick tears of despair when it came time to leave.

Even when I moved back home, same thing happened. I would still look forward to those one week reality breaks, and I would cry upon each coming and going.

That stopped last week. It was a funny feeling - going over the bridge to the island after waiting patiently for more than an hour at a standstill in beach traffic. In years' past, this one hour hiatus would kill my soul to the point where our arrival time was scheduled earlier and earlier to avoid the inevitable pile up. I would stare at the car in front of me with a laser-like glare, impatient for even the slightest inch forward to vacation and my family. This year? I read a book and absently soothed my car mates that this delay is part of the trip and the traffic would abate shortly.

I set down the book when we drove over the causeway and waited for the tears of joy. None came. I thought about this for about 48 hours when it hit me - no need to cry. I'm ok now. Life back home is ok. I'll be fine when the week is over. No need to focus on a vacation-highlight-of-my-year. Clarity has never been my strong suit, but this I got. This I understood. I'm ok now. And that's better than family beach week.

10 things to know

1. I cannot be left alone in a room with M&Ms. I can't. Just don't try it.

2. Conversely, I am not a fan of kale. Actually, who am I kidding... I'm a picky eater. At breakfast the other day my boyfriend got cream cheese on his face and couldn't follow my directions on where it was to wipe it off and finally said to come lick it off and I said no because cream cheese is gross. I'm a real romantic. I don't like a lot of weird food. But M&Ms pass the test.

3. I can walk on my hands. Truth.

4. I got some cats last week. They are super cute.

see? i could show you about one hundred other pictures but here's proof positive that they're super cute. and awesome. have only woken me up once, have found the litter box successfully, and prefer to eat their supper at night so as not to wake me up begging for food at 6 AM. WINS ALL THE TOILET PAPER AT THE SUPERTARGET.

5. I sing terribly, yet loudly.

6. I am terrified of spiders and cry uncontrollably pretty much the whole time I'm in an airplane. I'm also afraid a snake will bite me in the butt if I pee in the middle of the night without turning the light on. I check EVERY. TIME. But oddly enough not during the day.

7. Speaking of being afraid of things in the bathroom, I once got it in my head that ET was in the shower when I would use the bathroom and I got in the habit of checking behind the shower curtain every time I had to pee. I managed to break this habit when I was in COLLEGE.

8. There is a peanut stuck in my teeth. Thanks M&Ms.

9. I made this cake out of beets. It was delicious. And very pretty.

it looked super gross after about a day though.

10. I am currently on a rice and vegetable covered in cheese kick. That's funny, because in the movie Showgirls that's what they keep trying to get Nomi to eat so she doesn't gain weight. She likes cheeseburgers instead. Smart girl.