Here's what I'm considering:
Taking raw walnuts
A cup of Dole peaches
And cinnamon
And making "poor man's peach pie." (Aka putting the walnuts in a bowl and topping with peaches mixed with cinnamon)
Oh, the desperate lives we college-age dessert lovers live.
I should have my own Food Network show: How To Feed Yourself While Still Leaving Enough Money So You Can Graduate in Four Years. Or, How To Navigate Austrian Grocery Stores With Only a Pocket Dictionary to Aid You. Or, The Art of Grilled Cheese And Tomato Soup.
In case you're wondering if I'm serious about the "peach pie," I totally am. Photographic evidence will follow (later).
Showing posts with label Bad Jokes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bad Jokes. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
This is What I have to Work With
This is what I have to work with.
And it's not going well, folks. I'm overwhelmed. I have everything (as you can see), but I just have no idea how to go about cramming it all into my suitcase. I don't want to be the girl wearing the same shirt day after day, but I also don't want to be the girl who can't hoist her suitcase off the baggage carousel without the help of four large German men in lederhosen.
Furthermore, I think Wordpress may have some sort of vendetta against me. I think it knows I also have a Blogger, because I strongly suspect that it is purposefully making itself difficult to navigate. It doesn't really matter anyway, though, because I still haven't thought of a name for my travel blog! I want something clever, yet specific to the purpose of that blog (i.e. describing my European adventures). And if you suggest I name it My European Adventures, I may have to make an Oompa Loompa my Person of the Week for the next year just to spite you.
Here are the current options:
Salzburged (too violent sounding? And it makes me think of burgers which is kind of off-topic)
Holly Goes to Europe (too immature sounding? It's not very subtle...)
Rick Steve Ain't Got Nothin On Me, Dog
Holly's Von Trip (I'm officially fooling around now. Sorry.)
Monday, June 7, 2010
Talking to F. Scott Fitzgerald (and praying he won't answer back)
I had a bad night last night. It was one of those nights where I suddenly began doubting my abilities as a writer. I was reading these F. Scott quotes online, and he was talking about writing and how it should be done and who should do it. It really upset me, actually, and I reread the story I was working on extremely critically and considered just giving up on it. I remember at one point I rolled my eyes towards the heavens (and F. Scott, I assumed) and said quietly, "What do you know? I know you were a great writer, and that as a result you obviously know quite a lot about your craft, but what right do you have to define my career, or even my state of mind concerning my career?" After that I rolled over and read my book until I fell asleep.
The lesson here? Well, there are a few.
1. Talking out loud at 1 a.m. to long dead authors is probably the first sign of madness.
2. No one (dead or alive) should be able to make you feel a certain way about yourself and your abilities. It's perfectly natural to have influences, but in the end it should just be you and your talent standing alone and confidant.
There's my nightly revelation. Let's move on to some morning talk. Early, early morning talk, that is.
Tomorrow Tim and I are driving down to Morris to help incoming freshman register for classes. We're doing it as part of our OGL (orientation group leader) duties.
I'm excited for this. Not only will it be nice to see Tim again, but it will be extremely nice to be back in Morris. I miss it there. I really, really do.
What aren't I excited for? Waking up at 3:40 a.m. in order to be at the school where we're meeting at 5:20 a.m. in order to be in Morris at 9:00 a.m. But it'll all be worth it, I think.
Do you know why you shouldn't assume?
Because it makes an ass out of you and me (look at the word).
Excuse the profanity (my first in this blog, perhaps?), but I recently figured out this saying, and I wanted to clarify for anyone else who's missed the boat on it. Clever, isn't it?
The lesson here? Well, there are a few.
1. Talking out loud at 1 a.m. to long dead authors is probably the first sign of madness.
2. No one (dead or alive) should be able to make you feel a certain way about yourself and your abilities. It's perfectly natural to have influences, but in the end it should just be you and your talent standing alone and confidant.
There's my nightly revelation. Let's move on to some morning talk. Early, early morning talk, that is.
Tomorrow Tim and I are driving down to Morris to help incoming freshman register for classes. We're doing it as part of our OGL (orientation group leader) duties.
I'm excited for this. Not only will it be nice to see Tim again, but it will be extremely nice to be back in Morris. I miss it there. I really, really do.
What aren't I excited for? Waking up at 3:40 a.m. in order to be at the school where we're meeting at 5:20 a.m. in order to be in Morris at 9:00 a.m. But it'll all be worth it, I think.
Do you know why you shouldn't assume?
Because it makes an ass out of you and me (look at the word).
Excuse the profanity (my first in this blog, perhaps?), but I recently figured out this saying, and I wanted to clarify for anyone else who's missed the boat on it. Clever, isn't it?
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Wina Winnebago
Oh goodness. This is about to be one of those posts where I begin typing with absolutely no idea as to what I should write about. Please keep the exasperated sighs down; I can hear them from here.
Today was pretty good. I worked from 9-3:30. The drive to F.L. was nice despite the early hour, because I like to just talk to myself in the car. No music, no nothing. Just me. I know it sounds really strange, but I find that when I think aloud to myself, I can properly sort out my thoughts. Orating is a good substitute for writing in that way.
Work itself was very nice, actually. For the first time, I felt like I was a real contributing member of the Target team. I was given quite a few independent tasks (i.e. organizing the freezers and putting up signs), so I got to work by myself and show everyone what I could do without help. Of course, there were a few moments when I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, and I had to remind myself that it's fairly pathetic to sit there and be ashamed of what you don't know. So I called for aid (using my nifty walkie talkie, I might add).
Now I'm home sitting on my bed in the dark. (This isn't supposed to be a morbid scene, actually; I prefer natural light over artificial.) I'm about to flop down and read "Heaven to Betsy" (by Maud Hart Lovelace). If you haven't read the Betsy-Tacy books you're seriously missing out. They're absolutely wonderful. In fact, they just about tie with Little House on the Prairie in my book (no pun intended).
That's all I have, I'm afraid. Not bad for a no topic post, though, eh?
Today was pretty good. I worked from 9-3:30. The drive to F.L. was nice despite the early hour, because I like to just talk to myself in the car. No music, no nothing. Just me. I know it sounds really strange, but I find that when I think aloud to myself, I can properly sort out my thoughts. Orating is a good substitute for writing in that way.
Work itself was very nice, actually. For the first time, I felt like I was a real contributing member of the Target team. I was given quite a few independent tasks (i.e. organizing the freezers and putting up signs), so I got to work by myself and show everyone what I could do without help. Of course, there were a few moments when I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, and I had to remind myself that it's fairly pathetic to sit there and be ashamed of what you don't know. So I called for aid (using my nifty walkie talkie, I might add).
Now I'm home sitting on my bed in the dark. (This isn't supposed to be a morbid scene, actually; I prefer natural light over artificial.) I'm about to flop down and read "Heaven to Betsy" (by Maud Hart Lovelace). If you haven't read the Betsy-Tacy books you're seriously missing out. They're absolutely wonderful. In fact, they just about tie with Little House on the Prairie in my book (no pun intended).
That's all I have, I'm afraid. Not bad for a no topic post, though, eh?
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Not Yo Granny's China
I would first like to mention that the colors of my blog are iffy right now. I'm not sure what exactly possessed me when I selected blue and white, but I assure you that I did not mean to steal your grandmother's china pattern.
Secondly, I've had a few interesting days, and while I'm not able to go into detail here in the public arena of blogging, I can safely say that the past few days were mildly shattering, slightly rainy, and all-around worth journaling about.
I think this is what I like about being a writer (if you'll allow me to call myself that): you can draw on real life experiences when you're writing. Anything that happens to you, good or bad, can be viewed as 'material.' And while maybe it's not entirely wholesome to think of life as one big, entertaining story that could possibly sell for millions in the future, it helps me a lot to see it as thus sometimes.
Thirdly, I have the first entry in "Holly's Best Ever." Here goes:
The best thing ever is drinking water straight out of the tap. Even though your mother tells you time and again not to, and even though in the back of your mind you know putting your mouth so close to the place where dirty hands, soiled dishes, and stinky sponges alike have convened is not entirely hygenic, once that water hits your gaping mouth, you feel completely and refreshingly justified.
Secondly, I've had a few interesting days, and while I'm not able to go into detail here in the public arena of blogging, I can safely say that the past few days were mildly shattering, slightly rainy, and all-around worth journaling about.
I think this is what I like about being a writer (if you'll allow me to call myself that): you can draw on real life experiences when you're writing. Anything that happens to you, good or bad, can be viewed as 'material.' And while maybe it's not entirely wholesome to think of life as one big, entertaining story that could possibly sell for millions in the future, it helps me a lot to see it as thus sometimes.
Thirdly, I have the first entry in "Holly's Best Ever." Here goes:
The best thing ever is drinking water straight out of the tap. Even though your mother tells you time and again not to, and even though in the back of your mind you know putting your mouth so close to the place where dirty hands, soiled dishes, and stinky sponges alike have convened is not entirely hygenic, once that water hits your gaping mouth, you feel completely and refreshingly justified.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Me Write Pretty Some Day
I'm well aware that my writing is not always what you might call 'polished.' People have told me so. And while I like to think that in my blog I write the way I talk, and that when I write papers and such I tread more gracefully, I want to give you a taste of my 'pretty' writing. Okay, okay, so this is mainly to prove to myself that I can do it. Actually, not even that. I know I can do it. I just want to do it here. So here goes (p.s. the repetition of the word 'here' was intentional). Now I sound arrogant. You know, maybe I should make use of the backspace key right about now. But no. All of this nonsense will help me prove my point. Here we go again (more 'here' repetition? Jeez, who does this kid think she is?):
There are few moments of intense clarity in our lives. All other moments, the ones we bathe in and swear in and try to work out impossible calculus problems in, are simply part of the muddle. I fancied myself in a rare moment this afternoon, when I went down to the dock to read.
I lay down gradually; I started out sitting with crossed legs, book propped against my ankles, and I slowly slumped until I was sprawled on my stomach. Turning to the side a bit, the cool metal against my cheek balanced out the sun blazing in my hair. It was a lovely day, and I wondered if anyone would happen to look out and grin with approval at the teenager improving her mind amongst nature.
I always liked the word grin. There was an entire image associated with it. For example, in order to really truly grin, you had to have your face to the wind. Your solid-colored t-shirt had to be blowing back against your chest. You had to be standing on either a hill or some sort of elevated object. You had to have your lips pressed flat to gums, and your teeth had to be glinting.
I pondered all of this while the swallows flitted by and gingerly dipped blue wings into blue water.
Every so often there would be a loud splash, and my head would lift in time to see two dragonflies (apparently attached somehow-this I didn't dwell on) buzzing away. How such small insects could create a splash equivalent to that of a small child doing a cannonball was beyond me.
I only went up when the dogs were whining so loudly in their kennel that the waves lapping against the shore seemed darker than usual.
I think, as I rest dirty legs against clean blankets on my bed, that the clarity has left me. I could go down to the dock again, I suppose. I could look out at the water and imagine myself very knowledgeable indeed. But it's too dark to see anything now; the swallows would peer down at me with sleep-heavy eyes and chuckle dreamily to themselves. Silly girl, she thinks she knows us.
Tomorrow they'll let me back, though. I'll sit there for hours, tanning arms around knees. I'll sit there until I can see straight to the bottom.
There are few moments of intense clarity in our lives. All other moments, the ones we bathe in and swear in and try to work out impossible calculus problems in, are simply part of the muddle. I fancied myself in a rare moment this afternoon, when I went down to the dock to read.
I lay down gradually; I started out sitting with crossed legs, book propped against my ankles, and I slowly slumped until I was sprawled on my stomach. Turning to the side a bit, the cool metal against my cheek balanced out the sun blazing in my hair. It was a lovely day, and I wondered if anyone would happen to look out and grin with approval at the teenager improving her mind amongst nature.
I always liked the word grin. There was an entire image associated with it. For example, in order to really truly grin, you had to have your face to the wind. Your solid-colored t-shirt had to be blowing back against your chest. You had to be standing on either a hill or some sort of elevated object. You had to have your lips pressed flat to gums, and your teeth had to be glinting.
I pondered all of this while the swallows flitted by and gingerly dipped blue wings into blue water.
Every so often there would be a loud splash, and my head would lift in time to see two dragonflies (apparently attached somehow-this I didn't dwell on) buzzing away. How such small insects could create a splash equivalent to that of a small child doing a cannonball was beyond me.
I only went up when the dogs were whining so loudly in their kennel that the waves lapping against the shore seemed darker than usual.
I think, as I rest dirty legs against clean blankets on my bed, that the clarity has left me. I could go down to the dock again, I suppose. I could look out at the water and imagine myself very knowledgeable indeed. But it's too dark to see anything now; the swallows would peer down at me with sleep-heavy eyes and chuckle dreamily to themselves. Silly girl, she thinks she knows us.
Tomorrow they'll let me back, though. I'll sit there for hours, tanning arms around knees. I'll sit there until I can see straight to the bottom.
Friday, March 26, 2010
The Silent, 1 A.M. Victory Dance
Truthfully, (warning: I will pointedly ignore my enticing post title for a few minutes. Bear with me.) I have stayed away from this blog for a few days on purpose; I felt like it was getting desperate. When I start posting bits of stories that I wrote when I was sixteen, things are getting desperate.
Like most things in life, blogs are better done when inspiration hits (in my opinion, at least).
If you'd prefer advice from a sage-like, well-seasoned author (and yes, I'm aware of the spice puns (and the double hyphen)), you can always go to Jack London, who said, "You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club."
Unfortunately, club violence is banned in most states. Why oh why didn't I go to school out West???
As for the title:
I'm at home because I'm interviewing for a summer job tomorrow at 4 p.m. (everybody pray)
I decided about 15 minutes ago to check my email before hopping in the shower
There was an email
I clicked 'open'
I read it
I got into the Honors Program at Morris!!!!!!!
Pardon the ecstaticity, but I'm just so happy! I feel like this is another step towards my successful college experience. Getting into a prestigious academic program is a great big check off my list of goals.
As for the title:
Everyone's asleep here, so I had to scream silently, pump my fists in the air silently, run into the kitchen silently, hop the gate silently, smooch the dog on top of her head silently, come back here silently and blog silently.
That's a lot of silence for one piece of big, exciting news.
Now I think I'll take that shower after all. Goodnight sweet world.
Stay gold.
Like most things in life, blogs are better done when inspiration hits (in my opinion, at least).
If you'd prefer advice from a sage-like, well-seasoned author (and yes, I'm aware of the spice puns (and the double hyphen)), you can always go to Jack London, who said, "You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club."
Unfortunately, club violence is banned in most states. Why oh why didn't I go to school out West???
As for the title:
I'm at home because I'm interviewing for a summer job tomorrow at 4 p.m. (everybody pray)
I decided about 15 minutes ago to check my email before hopping in the shower
There was an email
I clicked 'open'
I read it
I got into the Honors Program at Morris!!!!!!!
Pardon the ecstaticity, but I'm just so happy! I feel like this is another step towards my successful college experience. Getting into a prestigious academic program is a great big check off my list of goals.
As for the title:
Everyone's asleep here, so I had to scream silently, pump my fists in the air silently, run into the kitchen silently, hop the gate silently, smooch the dog on top of her head silently, come back here silently and blog silently.
That's a lot of silence for one piece of big, exciting news.
Now I think I'll take that shower after all. Goodnight sweet world.
Stay gold.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
A Dog Named Oscar
Do you want to know the thing I miss the most about home while I'm away at college? It's not my family, my dog, or even my books. It's my bed. Or more specifically, my ability to jump unto my bed whilst I'm at home.
Throwing myself on my bed (often after a running start down the hallway) is a long-standing tradition for me. I do it when I'm sad, mad, silly, or just tired.
And though these feelings are present even when I'm in my dorm room, I find that I can't relieve them in the same way. Why not, you ask?
Because of the darn loft bed.
Though I'd like to end on that resounding note, I think I should probably explain the post title. My family has been planning for a while now to get a puppy in the spring. Our current dog, Annie, is 8 years old (which is pretty old for a large dog), and we want to get another dog while Annie's still around so that the puppy can learn from her (though it kills me (no pun intended) to even think of Annie dying...).
Anyway, earlier today, while watching my sister's volleyball tournament, I started to think of possible dog names. My all-time favorite is Atticus. Isn't that just the greatest name for a dog, or for a German Shepherd, more specifically? (All of our dogs have been that breed; they're the best.)
My family unfortunately doesn't like the name Atticus (apparently they don't love To Kill A Mockingbird like I do), so I kept brainstorming. I know I want the dog to be named after something, preferably a book character or a Beatles song. I'm currently reading The Brief Wondrous Life Of Oscar Wao. "Oscar!" I thought, "What a cool name for a puppy!" Everyone loved it until my parents decided that we would be getting a female dog because they're less aggressive than males.
Darn it.
Well, here's the female name list so far (though I'm still a tad bent out of shape about the loss of Oscar):
Juno or Juneau (May fly with Mom and Dad-they haven't seen the movie, but they love Alaska)
Jude (Hey Jude-think about it)
Mina (From Dracula-read it!)
Saoirse (An actress I like. Pronounced Seer-sha. No offense to the person, but her name is also great for a dog.)
Farrah (I'm kidding. Mostly.)
Lucy (Though I think this name is already fairly popular for dogs, and I want something original.)
Yoko (Hahahaha)
Liesl (Very German. Appropriate?)
Rosie (Yes, I had to sneak in some Neil Diamond.)
Okay, that's all I've got. Maybe you have some suggestions? Props for allusive names.
Throwing myself on my bed (often after a running start down the hallway) is a long-standing tradition for me. I do it when I'm sad, mad, silly, or just tired.
And though these feelings are present even when I'm in my dorm room, I find that I can't relieve them in the same way. Why not, you ask?
Because of the darn loft bed.
Though I'd like to end on that resounding note, I think I should probably explain the post title. My family has been planning for a while now to get a puppy in the spring. Our current dog, Annie, is 8 years old (which is pretty old for a large dog), and we want to get another dog while Annie's still around so that the puppy can learn from her (though it kills me (no pun intended) to even think of Annie dying...).
Anyway, earlier today, while watching my sister's volleyball tournament, I started to think of possible dog names. My all-time favorite is Atticus. Isn't that just the greatest name for a dog, or for a German Shepherd, more specifically? (All of our dogs have been that breed; they're the best.)
My family unfortunately doesn't like the name Atticus (apparently they don't love To Kill A Mockingbird like I do), so I kept brainstorming. I know I want the dog to be named after something, preferably a book character or a Beatles song. I'm currently reading The Brief Wondrous Life Of Oscar Wao. "Oscar!" I thought, "What a cool name for a puppy!" Everyone loved it until my parents decided that we would be getting a female dog because they're less aggressive than males.
Darn it.
Well, here's the female name list so far (though I'm still a tad bent out of shape about the loss of Oscar):
Juno or Juneau (May fly with Mom and Dad-they haven't seen the movie, but they love Alaska)
Jude (Hey Jude-think about it)
Mina (From Dracula-read it!)
Saoirse (An actress I like. Pronounced Seer-sha. No offense to the person, but her name is also great for a dog.)
Farrah (I'm kidding. Mostly.)
Lucy (Though I think this name is already fairly popular for dogs, and I want something original.)
Yoko (Hahahaha)
Liesl (Very German. Appropriate?)
Rosie (Yes, I had to sneak in some Neil Diamond.)
Okay, that's all I've got. Maybe you have some suggestions? Props for allusive names.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Things That Make Me Smile Part 1
Earlier today, I watched Susan Boyle's "I Dreamed A Dream" performance for Britain's Got Talent.
I have to tell you, I was grinning hugely through the entire video. To see this dowdy, middle-aged woman come out and just blow everyone away with her gorgeous voice was simply amazing.
Things like that get me. I don't know, I suppose you could laugh at my sentimentality, but it's just the way I am. I love stories like that; stories that mean something, even if they don't happen to you or to anyone you know. It gives me faith in humanity.
Wow this is getting to be quite the cheese ball post. I'm not sure how to redeem myself at this point.
I don't suppose it would help to mention my current Peter, Paul and Mary phase? No? Okay then.
Well in that case, I think I'll just call it a night.
P.S. If you're really reading my blog carefully, you may have noticed that I edited this post from the original. Though I do love sarcasm, and employ it freely in real life, I thought it was too heavy for the blog world, or at least for this particular post. Cheers!
I have to tell you, I was grinning hugely through the entire video. To see this dowdy, middle-aged woman come out and just blow everyone away with her gorgeous voice was simply amazing.
Things like that get me. I don't know, I suppose you could laugh at my sentimentality, but it's just the way I am. I love stories like that; stories that mean something, even if they don't happen to you or to anyone you know. It gives me faith in humanity.
Wow this is getting to be quite the cheese ball post. I'm not sure how to redeem myself at this point.
I don't suppose it would help to mention my current Peter, Paul and Mary phase? No? Okay then.
Well in that case, I think I'll just call it a night.
P.S. If you're really reading my blog carefully, you may have noticed that I edited this post from the original. Though I do love sarcasm, and employ it freely in real life, I thought it was too heavy for the blog world, or at least for this particular post. Cheers!
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
25 Reasons to Read/Not Read This Blog
25 things I haven't mentioned
That I think may be important
Or not
Maybe just 25 blips
That's it
25 random pieces of my life
That I will not be putting together for you
Because you know what?
I hate puzzles.
1. I don't have the patience for puzzles.
2. I can't listen recordings of my own voice; I think it sounds absolutely awful. Sometimes, when I'm speaking to someone, I'll recall how I sound, and I'll just stop talking.
3. I've been saying "shit" a lot lately. Mostly when I'm playing ping pong, and mostly when my shots don't hit the table. Still, swearing is a bad habit that I don't want to get into.
4. I've always wanted to learn the piano, but never could since we don't have one. For some reason, I've always thought I would be good at the piano if I could only learn.
5. My dreams usually have water in them (and no, it's not because I don't go to the bathroom before bed).
6. Han Solo is my favorite Star Wars character.
7. You know how biting into a Popsicle makes some people shudder? Well for me it's biting into a cotton ball.
8. If I didn't want to write for a living, I'd be a film director.
9. I tend to laugh at inappropriate times.
10. Besides this blog, I have a thought book that I write in every single day.
11. Sweaters are my favorite article of clothing
12. I can't draw very well, and I can't sing very well. Both talents I would like to possess.
13. I wish I knew more about politics.
14. Whenever I finish a really good book, I always turn to the author bio in the back and thank him/her aloud for writing such a wonderful story.
15. I adore crossword puzzles.
16. My toes crack all of the time.
17. I read out of six different books every night before I go to sleep: History for Every Day, God's Devotional Book, Letters and Devotions from Pope John Paul II, The Bible, Kings and Queens of England, and the current novel I'm reading.
18. I have never seen an Indiana Jones or James Bond movie. I should perhaps think about remedying this...
19. Every week I make a "to do" list for myself, and every month I print out a calendar and write out my entire schedule. I'm not exactly an anal organizer, but I do like to keep track of my life.
20. I would like either 'Blackbird' or 'In My Life' played at my funeral. The Beatles versions, of course.
21. Coke is my pop of choice (yes, I say pop. Welcome to the Midwest, folks).
22. I'm not a huge fan of perfectly sunny days. Overcast, a little windy, and 50 degrees is perfect for me.
23. My dream car is a 1961 turquoise Chevy Impala.
24. I love public speaking, even though I suppose I don't strike people as a very assertive person.
25. I would love to live in an old house when I'm grown up.
That I think may be important
Or not
Maybe just 25 blips
That's it
25 random pieces of my life
That I will not be putting together for you
Because you know what?
I hate puzzles.
1. I don't have the patience for puzzles.
2. I can't listen recordings of my own voice; I think it sounds absolutely awful. Sometimes, when I'm speaking to someone, I'll recall how I sound, and I'll just stop talking.
3. I've been saying "shit" a lot lately. Mostly when I'm playing ping pong, and mostly when my shots don't hit the table. Still, swearing is a bad habit that I don't want to get into.
4. I've always wanted to learn the piano, but never could since we don't have one. For some reason, I've always thought I would be good at the piano if I could only learn.
5. My dreams usually have water in them (and no, it's not because I don't go to the bathroom before bed).
6. Han Solo is my favorite Star Wars character.
7. You know how biting into a Popsicle makes some people shudder? Well for me it's biting into a cotton ball.
8. If I didn't want to write for a living, I'd be a film director.
9. I tend to laugh at inappropriate times.
10. Besides this blog, I have a thought book that I write in every single day.
11. Sweaters are my favorite article of clothing
12. I can't draw very well, and I can't sing very well. Both talents I would like to possess.
13. I wish I knew more about politics.
14. Whenever I finish a really good book, I always turn to the author bio in the back and thank him/her aloud for writing such a wonderful story.
15. I adore crossword puzzles.
16. My toes crack all of the time.
17. I read out of six different books every night before I go to sleep: History for Every Day, God's Devotional Book, Letters and Devotions from Pope John Paul II, The Bible, Kings and Queens of England, and the current novel I'm reading.
18. I have never seen an Indiana Jones or James Bond movie. I should perhaps think about remedying this...
19. Every week I make a "to do" list for myself, and every month I print out a calendar and write out my entire schedule. I'm not exactly an anal organizer, but I do like to keep track of my life.
20. I would like either 'Blackbird' or 'In My Life' played at my funeral. The Beatles versions, of course.
21. Coke is my pop of choice (yes, I say pop. Welcome to the Midwest, folks).
22. I'm not a huge fan of perfectly sunny days. Overcast, a little windy, and 50 degrees is perfect for me.
23. My dream car is a 1961 turquoise Chevy Impala.
24. I love public speaking, even though I suppose I don't strike people as a very assertive person.
25. I would love to live in an old house when I'm grown up.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)