Monday, May 30, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Adventures in Minnesota (Part 1)
Every year or so my family goes up to Minnesota to visit my grandparents who live there. They don't live in St. Paul or Minneapolis or anywhere else remotely inhabited by people, they live in is little town in the middle of nowhere. The actual town is about ten minutes away by car and their house sits in the middle of a cleared patch surrounded by trees and various birds and squirrels and deer.
Somehow my grandparents are able to fit themselves and my family of eight in their dinky one-floor, three bedroom house. I usually have dibs on sleeping in the walk-in closet in the "kids' bedroom" because 1) I get my own room, 2) When I close the door it gets dark before 11pm, 3) It's the quietest place in the entire house.
Now, everyone knows that Minnesota is the Land O' Billion Lakes, which is why my grandparents moved there in the first place since my Opa wanted to fish. A lot of fishing is done while we're there and an open invitation goes out to whoever wants to go with. My dad always goes and sometimes my mom joins. The first time around everyone is excited and all ready to jump in to boat with our poles and bait and catch dinner, but after a few more days the high fades and no one really cares anymore. It goes a bit like this:
Opa: "Who want's go go fishing?"
All the kids: "I do! I do! Yay, fishing!!!"
Dad: "Okay, but we're going to get up early!"
Now, when people say "early" I think of 7am, but no. "Fishing early" is about 5:30am so you're at the lake by 6am.
After someone comes and wakes you up at the butt-crack of dawn you roll out of your bed (or closet), pull on your warmest clothing, maybe eat some breakfast, and if there's time you might be able to yank a hairbrush through your hair. You climb in a car and head to the lake.
At this point, I'm usually still tired but excited about taking the boat out. After we manage to get the boat out in the middle of the water and cast our lines we sit around for about half an hour before the kids start to get bored and we realize that sitting around for hours watching your bobber do nothing really isn't that exciting.
Two hours and (maybe) three fish later, the kids have complained and whined enough for my dad to call someone to pick us up and take us back to the house. Opa and dad drop us off at the dock with my grandma or mom and then return to fishing for their bonding time. The rest of us return home and play with dominoes or watch TV.
By the end of the week, no one wants to fish anymore.
Somehow my grandparents are able to fit themselves and my family of eight in their dinky one-floor, three bedroom house. I usually have dibs on sleeping in the walk-in closet in the "kids' bedroom" because 1) I get my own room, 2) When I close the door it gets dark before 11pm, 3) It's the quietest place in the entire house.
Now, everyone knows that Minnesota is the Land O' Billion Lakes, which is why my grandparents moved there in the first place since my Opa wanted to fish. A lot of fishing is done while we're there and an open invitation goes out to whoever wants to go with. My dad always goes and sometimes my mom joins. The first time around everyone is excited and all ready to jump in to boat with our poles and bait and catch dinner, but after a few more days the high fades and no one really cares anymore. It goes a bit like this:
Opa: "Who want's go go fishing?"
All the kids: "I do! I do! Yay, fishing!!!"
Dad: "Okay, but we're going to get up early!"
Now, when people say "early" I think of 7am, but no. "Fishing early" is about 5:30am so you're at the lake by 6am.
After someone comes and wakes you up at the butt-crack of dawn you roll out of your bed (or closet), pull on your warmest clothing, maybe eat some breakfast, and if there's time you might be able to yank a hairbrush through your hair. You climb in a car and head to the lake.
At this point, I'm usually still tired but excited about taking the boat out. After we manage to get the boat out in the middle of the water and cast our lines we sit around for about half an hour before the kids start to get bored and we realize that sitting around for hours watching your bobber do nothing really isn't that exciting.
Two hours and (maybe) three fish later, the kids have complained and whined enough for my dad to call someone to pick us up and take us back to the house. Opa and dad drop us off at the dock with my grandma or mom and then return to fishing for their bonding time. The rest of us return home and play with dominoes or watch TV.
By the end of the week, no one wants to fish anymore.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Vegetarianism
For lent this year, I decided to go big and give up meat. The rest of my family gave up little things or added something on in place of a sacrifice. I, of course, had to one-up them all and gave up what I love most = MEAT. No steak, no chicken, no ribs, no meatloaf, no ham sandwiches. Just fish and vegetables.
I did pretty well for the first week or so. I lived off tuna salad sandwiches and pasta and lettuce. My family would eat their meat dinners and I would have a tuna casserole or a salad. I enjoyed the challenge of going without some of my favorite things, it made me feel strong in a way.
I went on in this fashion for about a month, trading in bean casserole for a PB+J without thinking about how much I loved bean casserole and how much I hated PB+J, but after I while I started to lose my vigor. The turning point was probably the night that they had BBQ chicken wings and curly fries. I found myself staring at my mom as she tore into her juicy, tender, delicious looking chicken. I stood by the oven and just soaked in the sweet, sweet smell of chicken wings and I ate my pitiful curly fries and imagined that the were dipped in chicken juice and deep fried in bacon fat. I was pitiful. It was then that I decided that, without meat, life had no meaning for me.
I lost interest in food and started skipping meals out of boredom. I had grown sick of tuna and mac and cheese. I wanted steak fajitas. I STILL want steak fajitas. I waited eagerly for Friday when the rest of my family would join me in my misery. Friday came and I wondered what my mother would make for dinner for everyone. She ended up making fish-nuggets. I hate fish-nuggets. The smell alone is enough to make me want to puke. So, there I was again, pitifully eating my curly fries and wishing they were chicken tenders.
The worst part so far as been the meatloaf. I love meatloaf with a passion. I could most likely live off of that stuff. My mom was making it and discovered she would have to leave before she could finish cooking it, so I had to take care of it. Making meatloaf is torture when you know you're not going to be able to enjoy it later, but I somehow managed, even though my taste buds yearned for it. I again sat pitifully at the dinner table, pretending I was fine with just bland mashed potatoes and a salad.
I'm about to the point where I'm prepared to wait until 12:01am on Easter so I can make myself a freaking steak fajita.
I did pretty well for the first week or so. I lived off tuna salad sandwiches and pasta and lettuce. My family would eat their meat dinners and I would have a tuna casserole or a salad. I enjoyed the challenge of going without some of my favorite things, it made me feel strong in a way.
I went on in this fashion for about a month, trading in bean casserole for a PB+J without thinking about how much I loved bean casserole and how much I hated PB+J, but after I while I started to lose my vigor. The turning point was probably the night that they had BBQ chicken wings and curly fries. I found myself staring at my mom as she tore into her juicy, tender, delicious looking chicken. I stood by the oven and just soaked in the sweet, sweet smell of chicken wings and I ate my pitiful curly fries and imagined that the were dipped in chicken juice and deep fried in bacon fat. I was pitiful. It was then that I decided that, without meat, life had no meaning for me.
I lost interest in food and started skipping meals out of boredom. I had grown sick of tuna and mac and cheese. I wanted steak fajitas. I STILL want steak fajitas. I waited eagerly for Friday when the rest of my family would join me in my misery. Friday came and I wondered what my mother would make for dinner for everyone. She ended up making fish-nuggets. I hate fish-nuggets. The smell alone is enough to make me want to puke. So, there I was again, pitifully eating my curly fries and wishing they were chicken tenders.
The worst part so far as been the meatloaf. I love meatloaf with a passion. I could most likely live off of that stuff. My mom was making it and discovered she would have to leave before she could finish cooking it, so I had to take care of it. Making meatloaf is torture when you know you're not going to be able to enjoy it later, but I somehow managed, even though my taste buds yearned for it. I again sat pitifully at the dinner table, pretending I was fine with just bland mashed potatoes and a salad.
I'm about to the point where I'm prepared to wait until 12:01am on Easter so I can make myself a freaking steak fajita.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Homeschooling
I've always been homeschooled, which is pretty much what got me pegged as a freak in the first place. Today, homeschooling is almost always thought of as an oddity, especially if... Never mind, it's always thought of as odd.
When people find out I'm homeschooled I always seem to get the same response: the Double-Blink and Oh.
A few months ago I was auditioning for a musical through the Park District and sitting next to my friend Ashley and a few of her friends. They were all talking about their schools and teachers and stuff and I was just sitting there totally lost. One of them eventually caught on and asked me what school I went to. Upon finding out that I was homeschooled Ashley turned to me with a shocked look on her face and asked me (totally seriously), "DO YOU HAVE ANY FRIENDS?" Having been asked that too many times to count, I burst into laughter to her horror. She quickly apologized and, trying to make conversation that didn't end in her embarrassment, ask me if I was homeschooling through high school and what my plans for college were. I explained that I was going to do dual-enrollment at the near-by community college so I could get my Associates Degree by graduation and them go straight to the college of my choosing. This, of course resulted in...
The Double-Blink and Oh.
The DBO goes a little something like this:
Me: "So, right after I graduate I can go the the culinary school of my choosing. I was thinking of going to (insert school here) because they have a special course in (some food style here) and specialize in culinary arts from (country of your liking here)."
*cue awkward silence*
Ashley: *blink blink* "Oh."
The conversation soon returned to their talk about dances and who was cheating on who and which teachers were unfair with grading. They apparently didn't want to listen to a freak like me and my elaborate plans of education.
Another more recent example happened just earlier today at my cousin's Confirmation party. I was sitting next to his uncle and my cousin Marie as they talked about her college in Minnesota. He eventually turned to me and asked me if I was going to college next year. I tried to swallow the huge chunk of heavenly french bread I was chewing on, but it took me a few seconds before I could convey to him that I was only a freshman by normal school terms. He took it in stride and asked me what school I went to.
Me: "Oh, I'm homeschooled."
*awkward silence*
Uncle: *blink blink* "Oh."
I've actually come to enjoy this response and try to draw it out from my victims, but sometimes it doesn't work and I have to resort to other tactics.
Me: "I'm homeschooled."
Someone else: "Cool! I am so jealous!"
Me: "I also have five younger siblings."
*stunned silence*
Someone else: *blink blink* "Oh."
But sometimes that doesn't even work.
Me: "I'm homeschooled."
Other person: "Really? Me too!"
Me: "And I have five younger siblings."
Other person: "You're the oldest? I'm the fifth out of eleven."
*stunned silence"
Me: *blink blink* "Oh."
When people find out I'm homeschooled I always seem to get the same response: the Double-Blink and Oh.
A few months ago I was auditioning for a musical through the Park District and sitting next to my friend Ashley and a few of her friends. They were all talking about their schools and teachers and stuff and I was just sitting there totally lost. One of them eventually caught on and asked me what school I went to. Upon finding out that I was homeschooled Ashley turned to me with a shocked look on her face and asked me (totally seriously), "DO YOU HAVE ANY FRIENDS?" Having been asked that too many times to count, I burst into laughter to her horror. She quickly apologized and, trying to make conversation that didn't end in her embarrassment, ask me if I was homeschooling through high school and what my plans for college were. I explained that I was going to do dual-enrollment at the near-by community college so I could get my Associates Degree by graduation and them go straight to the college of my choosing. This, of course resulted in...
The Double-Blink and Oh.
The DBO goes a little something like this:
Me: "So, right after I graduate I can go the the culinary school of my choosing. I was thinking of going to (insert school here) because they have a special course in (some food style here) and specialize in culinary arts from (country of your liking here)."
*cue awkward silence*
Ashley: *blink blink* "Oh."
The conversation soon returned to their talk about dances and who was cheating on who and which teachers were unfair with grading. They apparently didn't want to listen to a freak like me and my elaborate plans of education.
Another more recent example happened just earlier today at my cousin's Confirmation party. I was sitting next to his uncle and my cousin Marie as they talked about her college in Minnesota. He eventually turned to me and asked me if I was going to college next year. I tried to swallow the huge chunk of heavenly french bread I was chewing on, but it took me a few seconds before I could convey to him that I was only a freshman by normal school terms. He took it in stride and asked me what school I went to.
Me: "Oh, I'm homeschooled."
*awkward silence*
Uncle: *blink blink* "Oh."
I've actually come to enjoy this response and try to draw it out from my victims, but sometimes it doesn't work and I have to resort to other tactics.
Me: "I'm homeschooled."
Someone else: "Cool! I am so jealous!"
Me: "I also have five younger siblings."
*stunned silence*
Someone else: *blink blink* "Oh."
But sometimes that doesn't even work.
Me: "I'm homeschooled."
Other person: "Really? Me too!"
Me: "And I have five younger siblings."
Other person: "You're the oldest? I'm the fifth out of eleven."
*stunned silence"
Me: *blink blink* "Oh."
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