Damn you, Fergie Wednesday, Sep 19 2007

For the past week or so, I have had one of two songs perpetually stuck in my head — “Glamorous” and “Big Girls Don’t Cry”, both by Fergie. 

Not this Fergie, this one. 

Please tell me that I’m not the only one who, when people kept talking about Fergie’s music  thought, “What the hell?  The Duchess of York is a singer now??”  (What can I say, I was obsessed with the British royal family as a child.)

Also, I still can’t get over the fact that singing Fergie of the Black Eyed Peas used to be a star on “Kid’s Incorporated.”  I looooved that show.

But mostly I just wonder when I will be able to get through a day without wandering around going, “G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S…flying first class, up in the sky…”

(At least the youth of today will know how to spell glamorous.  And bananas, thanks to Gwen Stefani.)

2 Responses »

 

New Beginnings Friday, Sep 7 2007

I miss the first day of school.

Don’t you remember how new and fresh and exciting it all was?  I couldn’t wait to see what my teacher would be like and who would be in my class.  I loved picking out new school supplies (remember Trapper Keepers?) and packing them all in my new backpack.  I would pick out my favorite or my best or my most stylish outfit and it was maybe the only time in the whole school year that I got up EARLY. 

The classrooms were freshly decorated and the desks were clean and empty, and for just that one moment in time, it was like starting out on a brand new page. 

Because my dad was in the military and we moved around so much (usually in the summer), starting school for me often meant starting a new school in a new place.  I moved between 1st and 2nd grade, 3rd and 4th grade, 4th and 5th grade, in the middle of 7th grade, and again right before I started high school.   I remember so clearly sitting in classrooms, looking around and wondering who would be my new best friend. 

Even though it’s been almost 10 years since I finshed college, I miss the rhythm of being a student, the way a year was broken into quarters and semesters, with lots of time off.  Each school year was a brand new beginning and no matter how long it seemed, it was really only 10 months later that it would all be over. 

I realized the other day that I have been at my job for 5 years now.  5 years.  I’ve never done anything in my life for 5 years!  My 4 years of high school was the longest stretch I had ever been in one place. 

For 5 years I have come into this building most every day and sat in the same office and worked on the same type of work.  Bosses and co-workers have come and gone, and some projects ended while others began.  I went from contractor to permanent employee, and got a promotion along the way, but mostly, it has pretty much been the same thing. 

I feel like I’m withering a bit.  I’m yearning for change and excitement and something fresh and new and different.  I want to recapture that first day of school feeling again.  (Do not let this fool you, however — I don’t really plan on going back to actual school, like for a master’s, at least not right now).

I want a new beginning.  And in the immortal words of, uh, some ’90s-era rock band who sang that Closing Time song, “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” 

(That band is wise, whatever their names are.)

Leave a Response »

 

Two Years Ago Wednesday, Aug 29 2007

Two years ago Hurricane Katrina struck the Gulf Coast.  There’s been a lot of media coverage over the past few days and weeks of the storm and the aftermath and the progress that has been made.  I have never lived there and before the storm I had only visited New Orleans for a total of one day.  At the time, I did not know anyone that was personally affected by the destruction and devastation.

A year ago today I stood in the Lower 9th Ward, mere feet away from one of the levees that breached.  I saw foundations with no houses on top of them — they had been washed away.  I saw staircases that went nowhere.  I saw cars in trees.  The streets had been reduced to rubble.  For blocks and blocks, in what had been a vibrant neighborhood, there was no one there.  Reading about it was one thing, seeing it for myself was another.
Spending two months working in New Orleans changed my world.

Without saying too much, I work for one of the agencies that has shouldered a great deal of blame for what happened in New Orleans.   But thousands of people from this agency have also spent two years down there, working long hours, away from family and friends, doing everything we can to rebuild and make people as safe as possible.  It is so hard to read the very critical stories and watch the pundits try and place the blame.  I suppose it is a natural instinct to want a bad guy, someone to blame, but I do not believe there is anyone who would have wanted this to happen, who would have deliberately set this course of action into place, just as the terrorists did on 9/11.

I believe that Hurricane Katrina was a natural disaster, a horrible storm of epic proportions.  It was a confluence of meteorological events — low pressure and warm air and water vapor and currents — coming together at exactly the wrong moment.

And the results of that natural disaster, the mistakes and the miscalculations and the responses and the scars that have not healed, were a confluence of political and sociological and psychological and economic factors, all of which exploded together at the wrong moment in time.

More than a thousand people lost their lives, millions lost their homes and their livelihoods and their way of life.  A great deal of work has been done to try and bring New Orleans and the Gulf Coast back.  Much, much more work is to be done.

Can New Orleans be saved?  I don’t know, and I don’t think anyone has the answer.  It will take a long time and many, many more resources than they have now.

Here is what I do know.  I was in the 9th Ward a year later and although I didn’t take one picture, I will always remember  what I saw.   But there is another image from the one-year anniversary of Katrina that gave me hope, not despair.  A few hours later I was sitting in a restaurant on St. Charles Ave., having a late lunch with some co-workers.  Suddenly we heard a bell from one of New Orleans’ trolleys.  The trolley line on St. Charles hadn’t been operational since the storm but on that day, that horrible anniversary, they had hooked a trolley up and were using a truck to tow it up and down the line, the bell ringing all the way.

You could feel the excitement in the restaurant — there were cheers and smiles and laughter and applause.  To me, that trolley represented New Orleans and its people.   They may need a truck to tow them along for a long time, but they will be there, as loud and noisy and colorful as they have ever been and making their presence known.  And someday I’m going to go back to that city and ride that St. Charles line and be grateful for everything that New Orleans has given us.

2 Responses »

 

Take That, Spammers! Thursday, Jul 5 2007

Okay, for whatever weird reason, one particular post of mine has been getting all kinds of spam comments. It’s very weird. So I’ve just deleted the whole dang post. Luckily it wasn’t a particularly interesting one.

Hope everyone had a lovely Independence Day! I’ll have another far more interesting post later, which hopefully will not be the target of spam.

P.S. I’ve added some of the other Her Hangout blogs to my blogroll so it’ll be easier for me to find them. And because they’re really cool girls!

2 Responses »

 

Seven Random Things Wednesday, Jun 20 2007

I’m tagging myself (via mizgee’s blog) for the Seven Random Things meme because yo, I have like half an hour of work before I can go home and there’s nothing I can accomplish in that half an hour and I’m bored!

So, back to the subject at hand — Seven Random Things About Me:

1. As a child I sucked my thumb for much longer than I should have.  It contributed to completely ruining my mouth.
2. I really hate Diet Pepsi and will only drink it in the most dire of circumstances.
3. I started a tradition for myself a few years ago that every year I buy one or two Christmas ornaments that are somehow reminiscent of something that happened that year.
4. I almost always read a few pages of a book (or a LOT of pages) before I go to bed at night.  When I was little I convinced myself that if I read before I went to bed, it would prevent me from having bad dreams.
5. I re-read books constantly.  It’s because I read fast and due to the whole reading every night thing, I don’t always have something new to start on.  I had no idea that most people don’t re-read books over and over again.
6. I really don’t tan.  I have very pale, freckled skin that sunburns easily and then goes back to being very pale.  It may take on a slightly darker golden pigmentation but it’s still ghostly white compared to most people. 
7. There’s a road (a big major road) in Peoria, IL, that’s named after my family.

2 Responses »

 

Father’s Day Sunday, Jun 17 2007

Today is Father’s Day. I have one of the most awesome fathers in the world. I’m totally a Daddy’s Girl, especially because my dad and I are a LOT alike.  He’s my role model and my mentor and my hero.

Part of his gift today was these three pictures in a frame together:

That’s a photo of me, and one of each of my brothers, with my Grandpa and his tractor.  I loved the way they all looked together, and even more, I sort of loved the symbolism of it — presenting my dad with photos of his father and each of his kids for Father’s Day.  It seemed appropriate, especially since this is the first Father’s Day since my Grandpa died.

One Response »

 

It Makes My Heart Hurt Thursday, Jun 14 2007

I’ve been working on a big project the last few days.  You see, when we had my grandpa’s first memorial service in Michigan, my aunt had put together several great collages of pictures of my grandparents, other family members and friends.  Unfortunately, she did it sort of last minute and didn’t have a tremendous number of pictures of my immediate family (especially my brothers) to work with.  So there were about 4 – 5 pictures of my cousins for every 1 picture of us.

Next weekend we’ve got the second memorial service in IL, and I volunteered to do the collages this time.  My aunt sent me all the ones she had scanned, and now I’ve been sorting through my family’s albums to add to those.  So these are a couple I’ve come across of me with my paternal grandparents.

Every time I find another picture I love (my baby brother and Grandpa visiting the cows or shots of us on a tractor ride with him) it makes my heart ache a little.  It makes me sad that my grandparents are gone, sad that they’ll never see us kids get married and have babies of our own.  Of course, I’m also grateful that we had such wonderful times with them and that they were really such awesome grandparents.

On a lighter note, dang, wasn’t I a cute kid??

And an amusing discovery last night.  For the first year of my life, my mom kept (in addition to a baby book), a regular wall calendar that she noted all of my milestones on — what foods I tried, when I rolled over and sat up, my first words, etc.   I grew up as an Air Force brat and actually lived in Central America till I was 2, which certainly provided me some interesting life experiences.  So I bet you I’m one of the only people who’s mother dutifully recorded the milestone:

“Robbers came last night — N. slept through it all.”

ROBBERS.  There was an actual mention of robbers robbing our house in the record of my first year of life! 

The robbers story is actually a good one.  My parents had been out at a costume party that night and then come home.  My mom was asleep in their room and my dad was passed out from drinking too much in the living room.  He did not wake up when the robbers came in, loaded up several heavy items into our car, took the car and house keys and then, bizarrely enough, stole the jacket to my father’s costume (an authentic circa-1776 jacket my mother had handmade with pewter buttons).  Unfortunately, the robbers took a wrong turn and ended up crashing the car into a fence.  They fled the scene with only the jacket, leaving the car full of everything else they had lifted.  To this day, my mother bemoans the hours she spent making that costume.

So there you have it, a glimpse into the life of young Noodle.

2 Responses »

 

Fun Questionnaire Thursday, May 17 2007

 C’mon y’all, join me…

1. What bill do you hate paying the most?  Personal Property Tax.  Stupid Virginia.

2. Where was the last place you had a romantic dinner? Ha, that depends on your definition of romantic.  Not very recently, that’s for sure.

3. Last time you puked from drinking? Last summer in New Orleans.  Those were really horrible margaritas.

4. When is the last time you got drunk and danced on a bar? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten drunk and danced on a bar. 

5. Name of your first grade teacher? Mrs. Drinkwater, which was a funny name to me.

6. What do you really want to be doing right now? Sleeping.

7. What did you want to be when you were growing up? A teacher, a lawyer or the President.

8. How many colleges did you attend? Just one.

9. Why did you choose the shirt that you have on right now? Because it was there.

10. GAS PRICES??? Make me glad I only have a 5-minute commute.

11. Where would you move if you could move anywhere? Charleston.

12. First thought when the alarm went off this morning? Hmmm, could I call in sick?

13. Last thought before going to sleep last night? Please don’t let there be a fire tonight.

14. Favorite style of underwear? Hipsters.

15. Favorite style of underwear for the opposite sex? Boxers.

16. What errand/chore do you despise? Vacuuming.  HATE!
17. If you didn’t have to work, would you volunteer? I already volunteer and work, so if I wasn’t working, I’d definitely volunteer.

18. Get up early or sleep in? Sleeping in is, like, 9 a.m. for me.
19. What is your favorite cartoon character? Not sure I have one.
20. Favorite thing to do at night with a girl/guy?  Use your imagination 
21. Have you found real love yet? No.

22. When did you first start feeling old? Really, just this year.

23. Favorite 80’s movie? “St. Elmo’s Fire”

24. Your favorite lunch meat? Roast beef.

25. Beach or lake? Beach.

26. Do you think marriage is an outdated ritual? No.
27. Who from high school would you like to run into? The boy we once referred to only as “French Club.”  And he will be single and will say, “I’ve waited 10 years to see you again!”
28. Movies or Documentaries? Uh, both?

29. The Cosby Show or the Simpsons? The Cosby Show — I’m a child of the ’80s.

30. Worst relationship mistake that you wish you could take back? Not saying things that need to be said.

31. Do you like the person who sits directly across from you at work? Across from me is the bathroom.  However, I do not like the person sitting next to me.

32. If you could get away with it, who would you kill? I’m not sure I’d kill anyone.

33. What famous person(s) would you like to have dinner with? George Clooney.  We will have deep political discussions about Darfur…while naked.

34. What famous person would you like to sleep with? See number 33.  We’d be naked for a reason!

35. Have you ever had to use a fire extinguisher for its intended purpose? Nope.

36. Last book you read for real? I have no idea what “for real,” means but I read every night before bed.

37. Do you have a teddy bear? No.

One Response »

 

Little Memories, Part II Thursday, Apr 19 2007

Yesterday I wrote a big warm fuzzy post about my paternal grandparents, Grandma and Grandpa.  It’s not as easy to write that same kind of thing about my other sets of grandparents, Nana and Grandad.

Don’t get me wrong, they were wonderful people and I know they loved us, but they were definitely not the spoiling, doting type.  We saw far less of them than we did my dad’s parents.  I just never formed the same bonds with them.

Nana and Grandad both had Ph.D.s in botany.  Grandad taught plant physiology (whatever that is) at a major university.  There were rules about faculty members being married, so when he took the job, that meant my Nana couldn’t teach there as well.  And she was considered overqualified to teach high school.  She stayed home and raised their four kids — my mom, her twin brother and a younger brother and sister.

Nana and Grandad were both very intellectual.  Analytical.  Visits to them always included some interesting discussions.  Nana, especially, had very strong opinions on everything.  They were liberal — politics may be the only thing I inherited from that side of the family.  Every summer they would take their kids to Colorado, where the family had built their own A-Frame cabin.  They were big into the outdoors, into nature, into a simpler way of life. 

They were definitely not gooey and gushy about their grandkids.  There are 9 of us total and a running family conversation is which set of us Grandad and Nana liked best.  They probably thought we were all a bit spoiled and coddled by our parents.

One of their passions was restoring the natural prairie in Illinois.  And Nana was very big into computers — she had a Commodore 64 for years and years that all the grandkids loved to play games on.  She would always buy us Christmas gifts that were educational or global or something — craft kits, books, jewlery handmade in some African country. 

Grandad had a stroke in March 2003 and died a few days later.  After that, Nana relocated to New York State to be near one of her sons.  She got sick last fall and passed away in December, just a couple weeks before Christmas.  We didn’t have a funeral or memorial service or anything, but my mom and I did fly up for a weekend to attend a little reception at her retirement community, so I got to see some family then. 

I’ve often thought about the contrast between my mom and my dad’s families.  It’s really clear to me to see how my parents’ personalities were shaped by their background.  I have to wonder what my grandparents thought of each other.   In the end, I guess I’m  just grateful that I had such a long time with all my grandparents and that I got to know them as an adult, rather than having vague memories of them from my childhood. 

Leave a Response »

 

Little Memories Wednesday, Apr 18 2007

It’s funny, the little things in life that will spark a memory.  This morning I was in our cafeteria at work, fixing my coffee and I opened a couple of those little cups that creamer comes in — you know, the plastic ones?  All the sudden I found myself thinking of my Grandma.  She was a big coffee drinker and always ordered it when we went out, but she never used the creamers.  It was a treat for me to open them and drink the creamer.  I still do it to this day.

It’s been a tough few months for my family.  My maternal grandmother (Nana) passed away in December.  Then my paternal grandfather (Grandpa) passed away in February.  There were the last two remaining grandparents that my brothers and I had.  I know that I’m a very lucky girl — as the oldest on both sides of my family, I probably had a closer relationship and better memories of all of our grandparents.  I even had two great-grandparents that were alive until I was high school aged.

A few weeks ago a friend of mine wrote a story about memories of her grandmother that was published in the newspaper she works for.  I cried when I read it.  It made me want to stop and try to write down some of the memories that I have of my grandparents, before they fade with time.  So that’s what I’m going to do here for a couple of days.

I’ll start with my dad’s parents, who were Grandma and Grandpa to us.  For all of my life they lived in Michigan (my grandmother’s home), although previously they had lived for a lot of years in Illinois, which is where my grandfather came from.  My dad’s whole family is very warm and caring and extremely close.  They have a great sense of humor.  Grandma and Grandpa were the typical doting, spoiling type of grandparents.

Grandpa spent most of his life as a farmer, raising Hereford cattle.  Even after he retired from farming full-time and they moved to MI, he kept a small herd at a farm outside of town.  A visit to the grandparents always meant a trip to the farm to see the cows, a hay ride, driving the tractors on grandpa’s lap and picking vegetables that he grew in his garden.  He also grew beautiful roses and other flowers in small beds outside of the apartment they lived in.  He was a nurturer.  He loved to see animals and plants grow.  He sent us hundreds of pictures of his cattle over the years (and let me tell you, you’ve seen one Hereford, you’ve seen them all).  All winter long he would feed the squirrels that hung around their small patio, and yes, we were sent lots of photos of his squirrels too.  He wore boots and cowboy hats and bolo ties.  He looked a lot like John Wayne but he never hung up the phone without saying that he loved you.

Grandma worked at the university dental school, and we made a lot of visits there too.  She had lots of jewelry that was fun to play with.  She was a packrat and it was truly amazing how much stuff they had crammed into their small apartment.  She saved things like all the clippings from when JFK was killed — I’m like her in that respect.  I loved looking at old family photos with her.  Grandma told great stories.  I once asked her how she met Grandpa, and she told me that he liked her because she was a dancer and had “great legs.”  She loved to travel — she and my aunt visited us when we lived in Korea, and then both my grandparents and my great-aunt came to see us in Germany.  Everyone loved her.

On Sept. 11, 2001, we found out that my Grandma’s cancer had spread and was inoperable.  She passed away on Oct. 2.  No one expected that she would go first, and it was incredibly hard on my Grandpa.  She had done everything for them — bills and mail and shopping and cooking.  Since then it’s been pretty hard on my dad and my aunt.  Grandpa had a lot of medical issues and finally moved from Michigan to Seattle about a year and a half ago, to be closer to my aunt and her family.

He got sick last summer and died in his sleep in February.  I’m glad that it was peaceful for him.  He’s been in pretty bad shape these past few months.  Every so often I would call and talk to him, and he always sounded so happy to hear my voice.  I miss both of them so much.  I’m sad that they won’t be at my wedding, that they’ll never meet my children. 

This weekend I’m going to Michigan with my parents for a memorial service for my Grandpa.  We’ll have another service in Illinois with the entire family in June.  Despite the occasion, it will be good to be with everyone again.  We don’t get to do that nearly enough.  But there will be a huge hole where my grandparents should be — smiling and laughing with the rest of us.

Comments Off