Trinkets and Baubles

For my half-birthday, my sister gave me a lovely necklace, and my mummy presented me with a pink ice cream scoop and a classic film. I am well pleased.

Next time: something about which I am not well pleased. Suspenseful, no?

Tidbits

Ali and I went to Des Moines on Friday to visit Ian (it was sibling weekend at Drake). I would just like to state for the record as a caution to all drivers considering a jaunt into the flat beige expanse that can be found about four hours south of my house on I-35 that there are no gas stations in Iowa. Well, very few, anyway. Consider yourselves forewarned.

*

On the way to my new morning job, I drive past a prominent red and yellow sign identifying the location of "Merwin Liquors". A secondary panel below reads, "Checks Cashed. Drug Store." The building itself sits a few yards back from the road; its signs proclaim, "Merwin Drug. Family Restaurant. Prescriptions Filled. Liquor." Identity crisis, much?

*

So Liberty Tax has certainly put plenty of cash into its current publicity campaign. In towns as disparate as St. Paul to Sleepy Eye, workers have been dressing up in festive liberty-conveying costumes - you know, Uncle Sam, Lady Liberty, and the like - and parading up and down the streets in frigid weather on a daily basis bearing signs that declare, "It's tax time!" But here in St. Paul, Liberty is going a wee bit further in its effort to woo customers. A reliable source (i.e. roommate J) tells me that a couple of weeks ago, Uncle Sam was accompanied by a REAL LIVE LLAMA.

*

To recap the above: Iowa lacks topography and petrol. Merwin Liquors et al. lack a cohesive sense of identity. I lacked the opportunity to see the llama that was frolicking about within blocks of my house.

Heritable Traits

For one of their first Valentine's Day celebrations, my mother gave my father a jar of olives, a can of cashews, and a note:

"Cashew see olive you?"

If the sense of humor I have inherited is passed on to future generations, I pity my children and my children's children.

K-9

As I sat talking on the phone to Meg in my minivan in the police station parking lot this afternoon, I watched a shady-looking character approach a squad car emblazoned, "City of Eagan Canine Unit". Rapid barking from the vehicle's backseat accompanied the sketchy chap as he passed the car. "Well," I thought aloud, "it looks like that police dog is pretty good at his job."

Then the dog barked at my professor. And me. Looks like ol' K-9 needs a wee bit of sociability training, eh? Or perhaps I should take the hint and just become less suspicious-seeming...

In Prose, an Ode to Pat

Pat sure knows how to treat his girls.

Yesterday I returned from work to find a note on the front door. The following was written in pencil on a ripped corner of plain white paper: "2-13-06, 4.10. You have a flower delivery at [an address a few doors down the block]. M, Flowers on the Park."

"Hmm, flowers," thought I. "They must be for J; if anyone happened to be remotely considering sending flowers to me, he would not know my address. This is sketchy, though. I'm not going to someone's random door by myself to ask for possibly nonexistent flowers. It could be all a ploy to kidnap us!" And with this logical stream of reasoning, I left the note on the dining room table and went out to run an errand.

Upon arriving back at home, I spotted a lovely display of roses on the kitchen table. "Oooh, whose flowers?" I sang toward J.

"Yours," Ali replied from around the corner. "Dad sent some for you, and me, and Mom. Did you see this sketchy note? J went to pick them up."

"By yourself? You could have been kidnapped!" I exclaimed.

"I know, I thought about it," J replied. "But then I figured, probably not."

So now three vases of roses, a dozen and a half in all, grace our living room, accenting its blues and greens with palest lavender and white-edged pink and velvet red. I repeat: Pat sure knows how to treat his girls.

Present Participle

Exciting news updates have been sparse of late, mostly because of the demands of several ongoing activities. In recent weeks, I have been:

-reenacting Christmas photos with Ali and Ian.
-learning about the intricacies of the circulatory system.
-attending classes not related to law enforcement.
-watching Mal's dining room ceiling pulsate as partygoers upstairs jump up and down.
-longing for a day off.
-constructing sombreros out of newspaper, yarn, and pipe cleaners.
-laughing to the point of tears over supper with Ali and J.
-retrieving new pieces of furniture - an exercise bike and a small trampoline - from an alley.
-host[ess]ing splendid friendly visitors.
-celebrating Groundhog Day and Black History Month.
-phoning home.
-eating cheesecake in the car.
-perfecting my bench manner as a high school mock trial competition judge.
-working on my domestic skills.
-planning Fabulous February Festivities.
-freezing bottles of water.

Overwhelming, I know...