Smarter than a 5th grader

Mmm chicken

At work we have three vending machines in the lounge. There is your typical candy/junk food vending machine, the cold sodas vending machine and then this one

Here you have a myriad of choices ranging from bean burritos, lunchables, ramen noodles, a cinnabon with cream cheese, white castle, beef steak subs, and monterey chicken sandwiches. There is also a spatter of milk and fruit cups (those are on the top and bottom shelves out of the line of sight of the unsuspecting consumer) My favorite of all of these is C3.

It's not my favorite because of what it tastes like (I'm afraid to eat anything out of this machine) but rather the name, Big Az Chicken. Need I say more?

Crooked Smile

Went to the dentist today to have a cavity filled. While she was at it she fixed a small chip on my front tooth. You'd think that I'd be ecstatic about it, but the fact is, she didn't ask if I wanted it done. She just assumed that I would want it fixed. To me, the chip added character and it had a story. Fourteen years ago I was roller blading with my dog(I know, bad idea) and I tripped on an uneven part of the sidewalk. Two of my baby teeth were knocked out, the left side my face was scraped off and my front tooth was chipped off. I vividly remember my dad taking me to a neighbor who was a dentist to see if anything could be done. Later that night when mom came home from work, dad greeted mom at the door and told her "it's not as bad as it looks." Off to the ER we went where I got patched back up. That same night we went to the Lions festival where the only ride I was able to go on was the Ferris wheel with my little brother. It's worth mentioning that my teacher thought that I had had my face painted, when in face it was the result of being dragged by my dog; boy did she feel bad.

Oh well, I am sure I'll learn to like my new smile, even though I am a little melancholy about loosing my chipped tooth.

Lab Lesson: Any and all imperfections have a story behind them and tell a story of the person wearing them.

Moving

This past week I house sat for some friends while they were on their honeymoon and had a taste of freedom. After living with the parents for 22 years (I lived on campus my first year of college) I don't think living by myself would be much fun, in fact it's pretty lonely. Maybe it was because I was at a house that wasn't mine, sleeping in an unfamiliar place, etc. I've decided that I would at least need something to look at. (At one point I almost bought a blow up doll.) After a few days I started to get used to things and settled into a routine. Now I'm confident that I would be able to survive living on my own. Come May the boxes are going to be packed and I'll take a giant leap out into the world.

My View

I've got a pretty great view from my lab bench at work. When the sun is out, my area is the only place in the lab above 62 degrees, no joke. Often times when the day is dragging out I'll people watch. Sometimes I'll even make up pretend conversations between people on the street.

A Lost Art

I was driving through the country on my way home and I was taking in all the colors of the leaves and broad color spectrum that inhabits the Midwest. What caught my attention was a sign in front of a farmhouse advertising commercial property for sale. I've always had a place in my heart for farms and the families who earn their living caring for livestock and harvest. I never experienced life on the farm, but I still, at 23 listen with amazement as my dad describes the chores that were his around my grandparents farm. I have a deep respect for the families that today continue the tradition of caring for the family farm. I am sadden whenever I see a "For Sale" sign in front of a farmhouse. I understand the reasons why, yet at the same time I don't. This land is not only fertile with nutrients for gardens, and livestock, but also with stories that have been passed down from generation to generation, it holds the lessons of hard work and commitment, the importance of family, truth and value. This vital property is far too often grazed, covered with cement and becomes nothing more than an erection of drywall and vinyl that offers what we already had: quiet peace, contentment, and appreciation. In the process we loose what we need most: tangible life lessons.

The End of a Streak

I have an impressive track record of catching bouquets at wedding receptions. This dates back to March of 2005. Alas this weekend the streak came to an end. After five successful catches, "the curse" as my mom calls it, has been broken. I've caught the bouquets from bounce-offs off of chandelier's (which resulted in a black eye and a finger prick), the lackadaisical swipe in the air, and even the occasional tug-of-war. My approach consists of standing in front of the group of bachelorettes since most brides throw the bouquet with what I call "fluff". Because of this "fluff" the bouquet doesn't go very far in terms of distance. If anything, it goes high. (at which point I have time to do a quick check of the area around me to look for possible saboteurs) Last night I didn't take into account of the physics of the bouquet being tossed off of a balcony, along with the fact that I was jinxed beforehand. I'll just have to alter my game plan for the next toss. I'll be ready for sure.