you've missed me, haven't you?

Wow. It's been quite a while since I posted. For those of you who dutifully awaited my each and every blog with bated breath, I profusely apologize. Much  has occurred in the almost 2 years since August 2011. I'll attempt to be brief (not my strong suit, as demonstrated by my earlier writings).

Disclaimer: if we speak regularly at all, you likely already know much/all of this.

• In August of 2011, I accepted a job teaching 1st-12th grade general and vocal music in a small town in Minnesota. It did not go well. I was very stressed. An 8th grade girl told me I was going to get shot because I confiscated her cell phone. Later, her friends told me that this same student often lamented that I was stupid and fat.This type of student-on-teacher bullying was not all an uncommon occurrence at the school district. Something happens to many kids when they get into 5th grade.  They go through their awkward/horrible person phase. Needless to say, with my stress levels increased (even beyond that of working in liturgy), my cortisol levels did as well. If you don't know what cortisol does in your body, I'll tell you. It makes you fat. I got kind of fat again. It's difficult to take care of oneself when you struggle just to stay above water in terms of your work. Thanks for the extra load on my heart, B. Area School District. 
• While I worked in B, I lived in Pine City, Minnesota, with my dear darling friend BM. He's a great friend to have (loyal, funny, intelligent, etc.), but a terrible influence on my drinking behavior. My liver hadn't worked as hard as it did in the 2011-2012 academic year since the most salacious semester I spent at St. Cloud State (Spring '08). That's saying something. Honestly, I can't totally blame BM for my temporary alcoholism, as it was due in large-part to self-medicating.
• Summer 2012 brought job and residence changes. I moved home to Glenwood with my mom and one of my sisters (7 years my junior) for the first time since 2004 (the summer between sophomore/junior year at Carthage). I'm not proud of the amount of time I spent playing Temple Run on my phone, mostly in an attempt to beat my 16 year old brother's high score. Nor am I proud of the fact that most mornings, I didn't get up until 9am or so, and waited until 12noon or later to put on pants. I'm not proud that I spent more time watching entire seasons of Gossip Girl on Netflix, rather than reading books. There was also that one time I went to A&W without having showered for a couple of days and wearing my brother's NASCAR t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.  I'm definitely not proud of that. It's a good thing I didn't run into anyone I know. Even my sister K was embarrassed. I'm sure my mother would still express her disgust at the memory of such days.* As such, I will be seeking employment this summer (2013), so as to avoid a repeat of the self-loathing/stupid-ifying summer of 2012. Also, my dad got remarried. His new wife is closer to my age than his. I'm still in the adjustment period, and probably will be for the next 20 years.
• I was offered a couple of elementary music teaching positions over the summer (PHEW! No more 8th graders! And don't even get me started on high schoolers!), and I ultimately accepted a K-4 music job in Perham, Minnesota. It was one of the better choices I've made in my "adult" life.
• Summer/fall 2012 also brought the more official launch of E.T.G. photos, my serious hobby/business adventure. I'm really enjoying taking pictures of babies and kids and families and documenting weddings. Preggo? Engaged? Hire me?
• I recorded an album of Christmas music with an extraordinarily talented friend and musician. We donated/will continue to donate proceeds to this amazing organization. Buy one (a CD, that is). 
• Since moving to the Perham, Minnesota area, I've been re-learning how to live in rural lake country. The closest Target store is 45 minutes away. It's always 10 degrees cooler here than in Minneapolis. Minneapolis... is 3.5 hours away. It might as well be in Canada for as often as I'm able to get there. Speaking of Canada- Canada is just 4-5 hours away from here. Dating here is difficult, even when trying to fish in the online dating pool, where you can easily filter out some of the less stellar choices. Most  All single men here are more than likely younger than me and are sons of coworkers or sons of friends of coworkers. They work for their dads and went to NDSU or Moorhead State. I'm not saying it's bad- but it's different. It's very, very different. For amusing anecdotes and horror stories, stay tuned into future blog posts.
• It's sounding as though I'll be in Perham again for another school year. That's a good thing. I like it here. The students, staff, work environment, and community are all consistently pleasant. The level of cortisol flowing through my bloodstream is at a much more healthy level than during my time at BAHS. Thanks for aiding in my 30+ pound weight loss, Perham-Dent School District. You are literally saving my life. Cheers!

*One afternoon, my mom "dropped trou" in the living room and exclaimed, "Look! I'm Erin!" just to put me in my place.

note from an Irishman

I just received the following message via facebook from my dear long lost friend John McCarty (I say "long lost" because since meeting him now half a decade ago, he has left Minnesota to pursue his doctorate in choral conducting somewhere near the Atlantic... Virginia? North Carolina? South Carolina? I forget. It's all the same place). I'm reposting it because it's simply too amusing not to share with friends- because if I took Mr. McCarty's advice and learned this aria of Wagnerian proportions (pun intended) and did in fact sing it each and every time I entered or departed a room, you, my friends on this (west) side of the Mississippi, would need some sort of explanation before having me committed.


So as not to confuse you (or even further amuse you): Gassett, Dahlly, Brownie and my brother and sisters are all but one non-musicians.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dearest Gaphknea-

I hope all is well in Minnesota. I just wanted to pass along an idea that I think would make the world a better place. I believe that if you would sing the attached aria each and every time you entered or left a room that the world's problems would be solved.
All you would have to do is teach Gassett, Dahlly, Brownie, and your brother and sisters how to play some instruments.

Thank you for your consideration.

Sincerely,
John McCarty

hot mess

We never grow up. Really. I think about those times when, as a child, I might have received a new toy, coloring book, or a pair of sparkly jellies (as in jelly shoes, for those not old enough to remember the jelly shoe craze of the late 80s- before the jelly shoe craze of the mid 90s- now apparently making a comeback again). I could not wait to start playing with it/coloring in it/putting them on and admiring my glittery footwear in the mirror (no doubt while wearing my favorite blue princess dress-up gown topped off with a sequined tiara - not unlike the one pictured here). My mother and grandmother would try to explain to me the virtue of patience, but I didn't care. Nothing else mattered above playing with and showing off my latest cool thing (at least cool to me, anyway), despite the horrific amount of sweat and shriveled skin and dirt and grass clippings that accrued in my jellies, or all the poorly half-colored pages in the coloring book that I couldn't bring yourself to finish because the parts already colored were quite bad, as they were done in great haste.

Fast forward 20ish years.

A few weeks ago, when I had first purchased my new bike, I was very eager to get out and ride it. I had grand plans of riding it about town, doing everything from commuting to work, making quick trips to pick up things like holy basil from the Vietnamese deli or African wine from the liquor store, lazily making my way to a garden park to soak up the late evening sunshine and possibly snap a few photos with my still-new-to-me 50mm camera lens. A hipster-inspired fantasy, now that I think about it. I inquired with my mum as to the status of her bike rack, hoping to borrow it in order to transport my bike to Glenwood, where I'd also be able to go on leisurely rides around the picturesque Lake Minnewaska. I bought a bike basket and even briefly fantasized about ordering streamers from amazon.com Ah, yes... delusions of grandeur they were, perhaps. 

And so it came to be that within a day or two of making the big purchase (thanks to a few funeral and wedding stipends that all fell within a week or so), I decided to ride my bike to work- despite it being my usual day off, I had a few things I wanted to take care of before heading out of town for the evening. The forecast for the afternoon included rain, but I thought I could safely make it to work without being doused. A dark, overcast sky had been threatening precipitation all day, but so far nothing had happened. I figured my odds of making it to work in a dry state were very good. I embarked.

Before I got to the first stoplight on my route, the rain started. Slow and light at first. I thought to myself, "I can handle this. I only have to go about 10 more blocks." As I waited for the light to turn green, the rain increased. "Oh, okay. I can still handle this. I will just dry off as I am in my office responding to emails." A few minutes later, I reached my destination. Shelter from the rain!

This was only to be, of course, if I had a way to get into the office. I dug around for the set of work keys in my purse. They were not inside. I checked my pockets. No keys. Then I remembered that I left them in the cup holder of my car. Great.

By this time, the rain had increased to a drenching level. I could feel water running down my scalp. Fantastic. The only thing left to do was to now ride back home in the rain. On my way back, I was stopped at a light. I noticed a few people looking at me with a mixture of pity and surprise. I thought perhaps it was because I was out and about in pouring rain on my bike. I shrugged it off. Wet is wet, I figured- and once you're wet, you can't get any wetter. At least we were experiencing a warm rain, and it all just brought back memories of "chasing the rain" back on the farm with my sisters when we were kids (sorry, Brother- if you're reading this, you missed out on that because you were still a wee baby).

When I arrived home, I immediately went to the bathroom to get out of my wet clothes and hang them up to dry. What I saw in the mirror was comically astonishing. Truth be told, I was one hot and wet mess. Mascara was running down in two dark streaks on my cheeks. My hair somehow managed to be both frizzy and plastered to my head at the same time. My shirt was practically translucent and there were one too many buttons unbuttoned (I'm guessing as a result of my purse strap working the button out of its hole). Those oglers in cars were getting an eyeful more than they bargained for when seeing me roll by. Yes, hot mess indeed. And closely resembling a wet rat.

The moral of the story is this, friends: 

   1) If there is rain in the weather forecast, drive your car rather than ride your bike. 

   2) If you insist on riding your bike, take steps to ensure that you can enter the building when you reach your destination. 

   3) Check on the location of keys you will need before departing for your destination.

   4) When you plan to use non-waterproof mascara, plan for the possibility of water causing it to run.
   5) New toys, no matter their usefulness, aren't always the best thing to use at the time you want to use them.

Pictured: not me, but a woman in a similar predicament.

   

   

whoopsies

Overwhelmed with the thrill of being able to get myself up on the monkey bars and hang upside down, even at the ripe age of 27, I forgot that I was wearing a demi bra. 

In a normal standing position, the shirt I was wearing was not at all immodest. Yet, when I started out the day, I had no idea I'd find myself on a playground, and for all intents and purposes, dared to get up on those monkey bars and show them who's boss. 

I am not young anymore- nor are my breasts.

                                    

work in progress

Recently, I blogged about the inevitable passage of time (see "thirty"), and with that passage of time, the event of my thirtieth birthday, now coming up in 2 years, 9 months and some odd days. There is a lot of pressure from society on my generation to be settled by a certain age. I'm not sure exactly what "settled" means, but I suspect it involves owning property, being espoused to someone, working at a fast-paced/high paying/glamorous job, and possibly taking care of offspring. I have accomplished not a single one of those things, but lately (especially after having read an often hilarious book comprised of essays from various female authors in their 30s and beyond- which I highly recommend to all women age 20+), I find myself just fine with many aspects of my current situation. Additionally, I am very happy to report that I have accomplished or nearly accomplished more than a few items on my "thirty things before I'm thirty" list.

*pat myself on the back*

#4- Visit friends in far-off places:  (sort of) CHECK! I recently spent a week in Chicago/Kenosha/Milwaukee, making up for lost time. This fall, I hope/plan to take flight, landing in Arizona, where my dear old friend BS (yes, those are her actual initials) is set to give birth to Baby S #1. I'm astonished at my reproducing friends. I admire their courage. I applaud their efforts. Mostly, I'm happy to buy cute baby outfits for them, but not be the person responsible for changing poopy diapers. For now, I'm content to be Auntie Erin- The One Who Sings and Likes Cats and Wears Lots of Makeup and Knows All Those Famous Gay Men.

#6- Live by myself: (almost) CHECK! I am applying to live in a darling 1 bedroom sitting practically atop a lake and adorable neighborhood.  It's perfect (for me); it has lots of light/windows, tall ceilings, a patio, a gas stovetop, abundant character, allows pets, overlooks a charming lake in the downtown area, and the heat/water/sewer/garbage is included... I am having visions of many nights curled up under a quilt with my furry feline friend, sipping red wine, reading, blogging, making crafts with buttons, DIY repurposing projects, dabbling in photo editing, talking to myself, going bra-less, drinking 2 day old coffee without fear of being judged (waste not, want not), going to the bathroom with the door open, walking around without pants on, and so much more.

#8- Lose thirty pounds: (half) CHECK! Thanks to an online calorie tracker/weight loss community, I am just 1 lb shy of half of that goal of thirty pounds. What's more exciting is that I plan to lose those thirty pounds and then some. I am thrilled with the results so far and hope to continue the transformation. Most surprising about this process is that I've actually enjoyed exercising. Those who have known me for some time may not believe me, but it's true. I, Erin Teresa Gaffaney, like going to the gym. Admittedly, I owe much of my progress to closed captioning on the individual tvs mounted on each elliptical (equipped with cable channels), Jimmy Fallon's late late night show, E! News, Chelsea Handler's show, headphones, and the soundtrack to Step Up! 3 and any/all albums by Robin Thicke and Beyonce. Please don't judge me. I like to blame (in part) technology on the rising rates of obesity in these United States, but in my case, it's helped to combat it. Also, it should not go unmentioned that there is the occasional Hottie McHottie working out at the Anytime Fitness I frequent, which serves as fantastic eye candy/motivation. What? I'm only human.

#14- Keep a plant alive for a remarkable length of time: CHECK (times 2)!! I have a violet that was given to me in December that is not only still alive, but growing. Five months kept alive- very remarkable indeed. I also have an oxalis that is living in my office, having been kept alive since it was given to me in early March. It is not only alive, but thriving. Also remarkable is that I had the forethought to ask the secretary at work to water my plants during my week-long absence in order that they might not wither and perish. Wow. I've really outdone myself on this one. I think I may take things a step further and plant a few flowers. Perhaps I'll even transfer the oxalis from its current tiny plastic pot to something bigger and fancier- something in which it might grow bigger and taller yet. How exciting.

#26- Send more birthday cards to family and friends: CHECK! If I may boast, I've been stellar at this in the last few months. Just ask my family and friends. However, I did miss Grandma G's b-day, so I'll have to make up for that by sending a homemade card. I am not good at scrapbooking, so this may or may not be something I made with crayons.

#29- Take a community ed pottery class: (sort of) CHECK! While mosaic-making isn't exactly pottery, it's still functional art. Thanks, Groupon and Mercury Mosaics. I did look into the local community ed catalog for a pottery offering, but the consecutive classes on Saturday afternoons during June and July conflict with my schedule of singing at weddings, working, and taking advantage of mosquito season.



Wow. 6/30. That's not bad, considering it's been less than 3 months since I made my list. I suppose I might be kind of a big deal sooner than later if I accomplish the other 24 items before 2/28/14.

The one with the drunk confession

Louis isn't home. I peed with the door open. I can still hear the tv. This is nice.

lockout

I knew the day started out simply too good to be true.

The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the air smells like spring, and the temperature is predicted to reach nearly 60.

Today is my Friday; I have no rehearsals tonight and am planning to drive out of town to visit friends, maybe commit gluttony at a fish fry, and to return Saturday morning. I shaved my legs. I lotioned. My hair looks fabulous. I weighed in at the gym last night and am down 5 lbs from my weight a week ago.  I'm wearing a simple dress and new $6 earrings from Target. I have a travel mug full of deliciously hot and deliciously strong black coffee. Things are/were looking up.

Things were/are looking up, that is, until I locked my keys in my car. Fumbling with a paper bag carrying today's lunch in it as well as my purse, I locked my car doors while still groping for items in my backseat. I put my car keys in my purse, grabbed my lunch bag and slammed the door shut, only to realize within a split second that I'd done it again. I'd locked my keys in my car. My keys were safe in my purse, and my purse was safe in my backseat.

a 'dramatic reenactment'

The custodian here at work has no such device with which to break into a vehicle. I asked. 

The last time I locked my keys in my car was in rural Pine City on an otherwise beautiful, summery, sunny Saturday (and, coincidentally, the day of my very good friend's wedding) just 8 months ago. I was charged nearly $100 for someone to come open it. And that was after I talked the locksmith down from $125. What the what?

As I feel very resolute that this type of service should come at only a minimal cost,  I immediately got to work doing online research. Thanks, www.dexknows.com. For you St. Cloud/Waite Park/Sauk Rapids/Sartell/St. Joseph residents, the following information should come in handy in case you ever need a locksmith or a tow in the future. I compiled a very nice (thorough) list of businesses offering lockout assistance and the amount they charge.

Now I simply need to find out how much it would cost to get a duplicate set of keys made (the set I'm using is my spare- I lost the original- and the auto start with it- somewhere in a snowdrift during a blizzard in '06). At least it's what my insurance provider advised me to do, anyway.

Lord, help me.

Enjoy (?).

Orange Cab  (320)252-8080   $25

Lockout Services  (320)249-2890  $35

Security Locksmiths Inc.  (320)253-4862  $60 (YIKES- no thank you!)

Collins Bros Towing  (320)257-5525  $30 (and they take personal checks- and they have a location in Elk River- and my brother's name is Collin, so I see this as a good sign)

All Care Towing  (320)253-5203  $35

Andy's Towing  (320)251-5691  $35

Anchor Towing  (320)259-4199  $35

Perhaps, as a thank you to me for this useful information, you could click on some ads all over my blog so I can pay for these little incidents (that seem only to happen to me with great frequency). 

silver lining

In the last year or so, I have managed to gain a somewhat substantial amount of weight. This is due in part to a variety of factors, including, but not limited to the following: my own negligence (going to the gym is not something I look forward to by any means), my slowing metabolism, genetics, a work schedule that does not lend itself well to meals prepared by myself and eaten at regular intervals, a penchant for mochas (I've learned to order them with skim milk recently, and honestly, I enjoy them more that way) and a nearby Qdoba and White Castle. I can't help it. I love food. In part, I blame both sides of my extended family. Holidays were just as much about gluttony as they were spending time with each other. Who am I kidding? I loved it, and I still do. Thanksgiving is not Thanksgiving without Grandma Agnes' mashed potatoes and my aunt Cindy's vegetable pizza (as an "appetizer"), and Christmas isn't the same without Grammie's homemade caramels, my aunt Dorothy's brandy slush, and a host of savory dishes. We Gaffaneys and Grundmans really know how to put it away. To this day, I associate feelings of being overly full with family gatherings. It's just... what we do.

Every day I plan to go to the gym. I have my bag of gym attire in my car should I feel a strong urge to swing by there before work, after work, or on the way home from any other plethora of engagement or errand. I have been planning to go since January. My bag is still untouched.

I lie. The bag has not gone untouched. I had arbitrarily thrown some nail polish and a book I had been reading into it, thinking that I'd read whilst on the elliptical machine to trick myself into thinking that time was passing more quickly than it actually was, and after about a week of being unable to locate said book, remembered that it was in the bag. I went out to my car to get it. If I had time to read, I had time to go to the gym...

The best laid schemes of mice and men go oft awry. (Thanks, John Steinbeck, you really hit the nail on the head with that statement.)

There is, however, a bright side to this.

My hair is the best it has ever looked. In my life. No, seriously. It is. The color could use some work (this is also due to my own negligence), but the cut is superb. My stylist, a young woman who I happen to have known since elementary school, has set up shop with her mom in my tiny hometown. K has managed to cut my hair in such a way that I am able to style it up, down, straight, curly, sophisticated, artsy, and everything in between. So, you see, there is a silver lining to every sad story.


Now, be a friend and click on the ad(s) on my blog, so I can continue to afford going to see K, and thereby continue having several great hair days per week. Unprecedented, to say the least.

desperate

At tj maxx with a friend yesterday, perusing the clearance racks and shelves, I found an interesting little wood cutout, meant to decorate a home. So intrigued by this, but unwilling to spend the $3 to forever have it as my own, I asked my accompanying friend to snap a photo with her phone. With a little simple editing in Picasa, I took the irony to a new level. Pictured below is the result (laugh at it- you know you want to- I am still laughing).

(once again, feel free to click on the ads below and between posts- it helps to sustain my livelihood)

avian flu

Today I received one of those subscription emails from a salon I used to frequent. I usually delete these without hesitation when I see them in my inbox, but something about the subject line caught my eye- "feather extensions."


"What are feather extensions?'" you ask, and I must admit did the same thing.


I had preconceived notion (envisioning voluminous hair extensions that feathered out, like the style made popular in the 1970s by Hollywood star Farrah Fawcett, may she RIP), but that was quickly proven to be wrong when I saw photos similar to these :

Sweet, right? I think so. I think I could easily rock this look, or something similar, even at the risk of looking like ke$ha, a currently trendy pop "singer."

Of course, like any good 20something who often doubts herself, I forwarded the email to a handful of friends/family members, asking them whether or not I could pull this look off.  The responses varied from "probably, but what about [your church] job?" to "hot! and dangerous!" Best of all, though, was my sister K's witty commentary, as seen below. Cleverness runs in the family.

Ew. Avian flu. Pruning. Other birds try to hump you. Suddenly bursting out in whistles that sound like common songbirds. I don't advise this. --KG, March 22, 2011

Whether or not I have changed my mind will remain to be seen, but K's response put an entirely different spin on the the "hottest new look in hairstyles." I prefer that a winged animal not attempt to copulate with or on me during my next walk outside. And, while the risk is very, very highly unlikely, I do not wish to die a premature death at the hands of a disease most commonly affecting poultry.

P.S.  Do me a favor again and click on an ad- any ad. Doing so helps to put food on my table and (expensive) gas in my car.

blemished

not the coat referenced, but a garment similar in style and color

It's no secret that I have an absurdly difficult time trying to maintain the cleanliness of white clothing. Somewhere in my innate being, there exists the inability to effectively repel any substance that can leave a mark (permanent or otherwise) on a textile. I have often stared in a combination of admiration, wonder and jealousy at women who are brave enough to go around sporting outerwear in a shade that is usually reserved for those months that lie between Memorial and Labor days. How perfect the lives of those women must be- I'll bet they also never smudge their nail polish before it is dry or unwittingly wear a distinctively-colored bra underneath a not-so-opaque shirt. Those women probably have boyfriends and husbands who have never seen them break a sweat or with their hair undone. I digress. I wished that I, too, could don a classically beautiful winter look. Alas, I have a hard enough time keeping a white t-shirt spotless... that I wear to bed.

How could I possibly be brazen enough to think that me, of all people, would succeed in wearing a jacket that I would be guaranteed to spill coffee on? No, 'twas not to be. My clumsiness is simply a way of life- an inevitable rhythm to my movements. For this reason, I have avoided purchasing a white coat to stave off the cold Minnesota winters for some time now. Until this year.

Armed with a coupon good for $70 off a purchase of $150 and a very decent tax return, I made my way to my most-visited ladies' apparel store, New York & Co. Always one to check the clearance racks before anything else, I happened upon a row of winter coats that were 70% off. Perhaps it was my begrudging acceptance that even in late February, Minnesota winters are far from over, or the snow that had started to fly that Sunday afternoon that caused me to look twice at this array of leftover winter gear. Whatever it was, I noticed that an ample amount of white coats remained. How could there be so many left? Nicely made coats at a very nice price. I wasted no time in whipping out my phone and opening the calculator app. At 70% off the sale price, the coat was priced at a very appealing $24. How could I pass by this opportunity?

I did it. I bought it. A white coat.

Over the next several days, I was very careful not to do anything that might soil this gem of a coat. I even contorted my body into some very strange positions in order to clean the snow off of my car so as not to brush up against it and pick up whatever the car wash had missed. I found myself hanging the coat up when I would enter a house rather than laying it on the arm of a chair or couch. At night, when I took it off at the end of the day, I would look it over for spots and dab them off with a wash cloth.

It's now been close to a month, and my relaxation in caring for the coat has caused a drastic downturn in appearance. There is a coffee (?) spot near the pocket on the right side- when did I spill that? There is black dirt on the back- where in heaven did that come from? Along seams, there are darkening spots where the fabric must rub on things.

What is a girl to do? My sacrificial white coat has been blemished. Just like no good deeds go unpunished, no white clothing (of mine) goes unstained.




Now, be a good friend and click on an ad anywhere in my blog. :)

crazy sick

I have been sick for the last day and a half or so. Not one to run to the walk-in clinic for every sniffle and sore throat (having a nurse for a mother tends to cause one to grow up with the attitude "whatever doesn't physically kill you doesn't merit a doctor visit"), I have not allowed myself to go see a medical expert, though I'm beginning to wonder if in this instance, the error has been mine. I think that the sickness has been making me crazy. Like, a real crazy person. The kind of crazy person we delicately refer to as having "special needs" or "requiring medication."

We've all been there- had sick thoughts. No, I'm not talking mentally disturbed sick, but the fever and fatigue-induced sick thoughts.

As I laid in bed this afternoon and opened my eyes after resting them for a few minutes, I gazed up at the ceiling and thought, "my, what a white ceiling that is" and "it is so blank." In the middle of the night, I woke up and decided that I needed something crunchy to help me fall back asleep. I went into the kitchen and retrieved a bag of Doritos and munched on a few. I ate eleven chips. Eleven was the number I'd decided to consume that would create just the right number of chews to get my teeth scraped well enough to fall back asleep. How nice. Like apples. Or those dog and cat treats that are designed to clean your pet's teeth. Castles. I am a medieval princess. Robin Hood?

Oh no- am I going "Tom Cruise Crazy" crazy?

Even as I type this, I can feel (sinus?) pressure increasing in both of my ears. I expect to experience partial hearing loss by morning. I wonder if the birds will care? Wait, what? Birds? I'm sick. Fever. Chills. Mom? 

a father's wisdom

on the phone...

me: Dad, what took you so long to call me back? What have you been doing?
my dad: Well, Erin, I've been busy. Busier than a one-armed wallpaper hanger with crabs.

Here's Dad, relaxing in the house just after Christmas, in his favorite spot- the recliner across the room from the television (most likely tuned into Lifetime Movie Network). He was sporting his long johns (sans pants) as there had been a cold snap that week.

Sept 18, 2007

I searched my gmail this afternoon for my sister's address, using the term "Ashley parker" because my sister Ashley currently lives in Parkers Prairie. The search yielded no archived address, but there was a little gem of an email that I'd written to my friends (among them, a friend named Ashley). I am amused at my ramblings, but a little disturbed by the candor. Have I always been guilty of sharing "TMI"? I think the 2007 version of me is pretty funny- a bit odd, but endearing.

Thanks, Gmail, for unlimited storage, archiving, and a search bar within email.


Following is a direct "copy and paste" of an email I sent to a handful of college girlfriends on September 18th, 2007 at 10:15am (no doubt from my work desk):

My feet stink. It's the shoes I'm wearing, rather actually. But the stink transfers. I wore them too many times without any sort of socks, so now they're gross, even though I dumped some antibacterial citrus febreze in them. Maybe I should dump body spray in them now? Will the alcohol kill the stink? or should i rinse them out with hot water? they're only payless shoes and it's not like the outer is made of real leather- it's a man-made material.

I just discovered "google scholar" and I'm pretty excited.

For breakfast, I had an english muffin with roasted garlic hummus. The hummus was a bit runny compared to what I'm used to- disappointment. Also, I had lime yogurt with granola. I love granola and yogurt. It's my new favorite food.

On my Starbucks cup this morning: "childhood is a strange country. It's a place you come from or go to- at least in your mind... It's like a little sealed-vault country of cake breath and grass stains where what you do, instead of work, is spin until you're dizzy."

I miss my childhood.

I had dinner with my mom last night at "my" vietnamese place. I don't think she appreciates the Vietnamese the way I do. I love Vietnamese and Thai food. My favorite Vietnamese food is the bowl soup with clear noodles and pork and seafood. And fresh spring rolls. The best part is the fresh mint leaves and cilantro. Anyway, Julie (age 49) tried to tell me she was going to date a 35 yr old man and I didn't really care and then she said she made it all up to test the waters but I don't think she really actually made it all up. There is a 35 yr old out there somewhere from match.com who my mom is thinking about making out with.

I got Megan Dieschbourg and Trevor Parker's "Save the Date" card in the mail yesterday. They're getting married July 11, 2008. I can't believe we'll all be 24/25 within the next 16 months.

composition

My forays into musical composition have been infrequent at best, and usually only because necessity required doing so, such as a music theory or teaching methods course. Of course, there was the one exception, fondly referred to as "Booty Ballad" by those privileged enough to perform it (click on the title of the song for a youtube link, then fast forward to approximately 5:30).

Today is one of those days, however, in which I feel inspired. My muse, I cannot pinpoint. Perhaps it's the sunshine or the 40+ degree weather, or the fact that I unlocked a level on Angry Birds that had been eluding me for a few days, or maybe it's that I'm having a fan-flippin-tastic hair day (thanks, Hairitage Square, for the effortless cut and revolutionary product you sold me). 

No matter the cause, I want to sing- sing a message to the UPS man (or woman), whom I am patiently waiting for to make haste with my new shoes in arm. In this instance, I feel the text should come before music. And so I write...








Give Me What I Want  original lyrics by ETG
copyright ETG, 2011

Tires splashing through melted snow,
mix of dirt, salt and cold.
It's not the sight of you, UPS truck, that I want.
No, no, no. It is what you carry in your cargo hold.

(chorus)
Give me what I want (it's shoes).
Give me what I(iiiiii) need (it's shoes).
Give me those tall heels (skyscrapers)
Give me what I need (to the stars).

I hear an engine and rush to the window
Much to my dismay, it's just the neighbor,
Pulling up to her house in her black Jeep Laredo
When? I cry, and feign tears of sorrow....
                              
(chorus)
Give me what I want (it's shoes).

Give me what I(iiiiii) need (it's shoes).

Give me those tall heels (skyscrapers)

Give me what I need (to the stars).

Now is not soon enough, for when it comes to shoes,
I'm a fiend, a beast, I cannot be satiated.
Metallic, dramatic, suede, patent, canvas,
Buckled, platform, strapped, knotted, I'm besotted.

(chorus)

Give me what I want (it's shoes).

Give me what I(iiiiii) need (it's shoes).

Give me those tall heels (skyscrapers)

Give me what I need (to the stars).

Whoa, whoa, wait a minute there, Mr. UPS man,

Is that a big package that I see in your hands?

Run to me, fly to me, make haste to please me,

For only you can give me what it is that consumes me...

(bridge)

I want shoes. That's what I want.

Give me those shoes. They're what I want.

Give me what I want. 

(final chorus)

Give me what I want (it's shoes).

Give me what I(iiiiii) need (it's shoes).

Give me those tall heels (skyscrapers)

Give me what I need (to the stars).

                                   

                                   

Amen.

                                

                                
                                

                                
                                

pre-planning

Some girls fantasize about their wedding day, pre-planning down to the most trivial detail, long before they even meet the man who will eventually become their spouse.

I, on the other hand, am pre-planning my funeral liturgy, along with a few other major details surrounding the conclusion of my life here on earth.

This might seem shocking to most- why would a seemingly healthy 26 yr old woman be contemplating her own death? Do I really foresee an unfortunate, gruesome, and untimely demise for myself? Hopefully not, but anything is possible, and pre-planning will save me much agonizing over whether my family will force "How Great Thou Art" and "On Eagle's Wings" on those who attend. Am I unusually morbid? Do I have an obsession with the macabre? Absolutely not.

Still yet, a few readers may be puzzled as to why these thoughts are occurring to me in the first place. I'll tell you why: funerals. I'm in funerals up to my eyeballs. Approximately 7 months ago, I began working full-time as the music and liturgy director at an aging Catholic parish in St. Cloud. I had been warned that we have a high incidence of funerals at this particular faith community, but I was not prepared for the almost weekly onslaught that seems to have taken hold. Since January 1, I have had to plan the liturgies for 8 people. I wonder if I shouldn't go into the business of it all, considering. Because so many people seem to choose the same "comforting" songs so often, they have little, if any meaning for me at all anymore. Whilst sitting at the bench of the piano or the chair for the cantor at all of these funerals, my thoughts often stray to the future, and with great frequency, the future affair of my end.

What I do not want:
-wailing and gnashing of teeth
-the notion that I've become an angel- people do not become angels...
-an elaborate coffin (if preservation of my body is preferred by my loved ones, I wish for them not to waste their money on anything but a simple, wooden box, perhaps even wrapped in a favorite quilt- I believe in as green a burial as possible- in fact, why not bury me by the tree I planted in first grade on the farm where I grew up- the place from whence I came?)
-if cremated, please do not place my remains in a conspicuous spot in someone's living room; it's not healthy to not let people go
-How Great Thou Art, On Eagle's Wings, You Are Mine, Be Not Afraid, Amazing Grace, Shepherd Me O God, Wind Beneath My Wings, The Rose, Ave Maria (Schubert, Bach/Gounod, or otherwise), Here I Am, Lord (unless sung by a good choir, arranged by Ovid Young), Hail Mary, Gentle Woman, Prayer of St. Francis, God Is Watching Us, Shine Jesus Shine, In the Garden, Softly and Tenderly, Our Father (Albert Hay Malotte), Panis Angelicus (Franck), etc., etc.

What I would like:
-music to be chosen from the following (or similar pieces): Earth and All Stars, All Creatures of Our God and King, I Know that My Redeemer Lives (Handel or DUKE STREET), O God, Beyond All Praising or O Spirit, All-Embracing (set to THAXTED), Holy God, We Praise Thy Name (arrangement used by National Catholic Youth Choir), Bread for the World (Farrell), In Paradisum (Faure), A Mighty Fortress (for my inner Lutheran), Steal Away to Jesus (sung by the men of Cantus) or Deep River (sung by local gospel favorite Jearlyn Steele- if she's available), Precious Lord, Take My Hand, Walk in Jerusalem, etc., etc.
-a party held yearly at my gravesite, marking my death date, to celebrate my new baptism
-beer and other spirits served at my funeral luncheon/dinner, and a jazz pianist playing meal music
-much laughter and story telling
-a memorial scholarship established in my name at Carthage College, reserved for a financially despondent OR first-generation college student , majoring in music
-to be buried sporting a full face of makeup and my most fabulous pair of heels


Thus ends my death directive. Consider this a legal and binding document. Friends, family, I am entrusting you to uphold my wishes based on this virtual note, my blog.

Love you all, and good night.

bathing

It is my personal belief that showering is a privilege, not a right or a mandatum, and that on a person's day off from work, is completely optional.

the joy of learning

On this productive Tuesday morning, I not only succeeded in my multitasking efforts, but I also made a very important discovery.

The water heater in the house I live in has a capacity just ample enough to fill up the washing machine for white clothes and for a (very short) shower thereafter.

things aren’t always what they seem

This morning, I realized that my neighbor's dog isn't a dog after all; it is merely a ceramic yard decoration (and quite life-like, I might add).

    

I wonder and I ponder

The past month has been an odd one for me. I finished student teaching on May 7 and had no real work scheduled on my calendar save for wrapping up the season conducting my church choirs and a smattering of paid wedding gigs throughout the summer. Wednesday and Thursday evening commitments and part of Sunday mornings do not a busy girl make. Since then, I have made it my job to find a job (and did so successfully, might I add) and to do all the things I've been waiting to do for summer vacation. One of those items I'd been looking forward to on my long mental list included sleeping in.

"In the morning/The greatness of/The mind and/The goodness of/The heart are/Inseparable...Each morning/Is the birth/Of a new/Opportunity...In morning’s/Silence-delight,/The Supreme/Himself visits my/Heart-abode." (Sri Chimnoy)

It has been during my lazy mornings of waking around 7, but actually getting out of bed somewhere between 8 and 9am that I like to just lie under my blankets for a bit and look up toward the ceiling and its fan and around my room, planning my day or coming up with *fantastic* ideas, such as , conjuring up half-baked platforms for reality shows that wouldn't in a million years make it to a tv screen near you, or adventures I'd like to take if time and money were no object. In an effort to preserve what may actually be brilliant musings for future reflection, I am making a concerted effort to record them here on my blog...



Why... isn't there a show called "Real Housewives of Stearns County"? Come on, America- aren't you tired of overly tanned, botoxed, boozed, bleached, exercised, moneyed, shallow, fickle, gossipy, plasticized, shopped out women first featured on "Real Housewives of Orange County"? How can "Real Housewives of [Wherever]" possibly be an accurate depiction of what it means to be a real housewife not just in this country, but anywhere in the world? I'd like to see Bravo pick up a season of "Real Housewives of Stearns County" (or Pope, Douglas, Ottertail County- all of Minnesota... or any other rural place in the US). I can just see the ratings skyrocket as we witness such things as arguments between women over whether Coborns or Byerly's has the freshest produce available... Friendships will be torn apart as Housewife A accuses Housewife B of helping her 7th grade son with his History Day project, helping him to earn 2nd place at regionals (ousting her daughter) and advancing to state-level competition. Housewife C has her own set of problems, as her husband's construction business is floundering in the poor economy, and so she'll no longer be able to afford private Catholic school for her 4 children. The thought of public school for her offspring sickens her and is often the subject of conversation at the potluck dinners that the housewives gather for each week. Housewife D isn't even a housewife at all- or even somebody's wife-- she is a a full time nurse at the St. Cloud Hospital, caring for patients in the surgical unit. She and her boyfriend get into arguments regarding his 4-wheeling, snowmobiling and fishing habits... why can't he spend more time with her taking shopping trips to the Albertville Outlets instead? Housewife E is a hot mess in terms of what Stearns County is accustomed to. Housewife E's husband is recently deployed and while his stipend from the military could easily cover their household's expenses, she decides that caring for their 2 small children is just too much to handle. She hands them off to daycare each morning so she can go do something more relaxing, like work at Herberger's as a sales associate, all the while carrying on an affair with the store's assistant manager. She lives... in a trailer park.

Like it or not- these are the faces of real Stearns County Housewives.

Snippets of other ideas/great thoughts (that don't necessarily come to fruition- and my bank account thanks God they haven't) I've had whilst lying in bed early in the morning:

I could totally hide a cat from my landlord. Clara, I will come to rescue you soon from my mother.

Today would be a good day to finish those paintings for Susan and Jared.

What if I refinished my dining table and chairs and painted them with white crackle paint?

Paying the T-Mobile early cancellation fee would totally be worth getting the iPhone 4.

Hair extensions would be nice; I wouldn't have to wait at least a year to get it to the length I want it to be.

I should buy a tent.

I want to dig a bonfire pit.

Maybe I want to add window boxes to the house I'm renting and plant precious flowers in them.

A sewing class might be useful to me in the future.

Knitting would be a good hobby to take up.

I should try to make a new straight man friend per week. Eventually, one of them is bound to want to date me and maybe even put a ring on it?