Pie Charts and Stride Rite Shoes

So there I was, a little girl, in the year 1985. Now, if you are wondering what I was like as a child, let me take away all curiosity and tell you: I was just like I am now but little. A personality this strong didn't develop over time; I was born this way.

So, Momma Jo had enrolled me in a program called "Joy School". Joy School was so impactful that before I penned this blog I had to phone Momma Jo to figure out what exactly Joy School was. I mean, I knew what it was called. I knew I went. But the detail of what it actually was; not so sure. Was it pre-school? Was it some avaunt-guard church group? I had always just figured it was just the 1980's version of play dates. Turns out, I was right. Mom's would rotate as teachers, holding Joy School in their homes using some over-priced, white-washed, middle-class curriculum that includes music, stories, games, etc.

The fateful day of which I write, we had a lesson on goals. We were each given a copy (back then called a "ditto") of a blank pie chart and told to set a goal. Every day or every small victory would allow us to color a wedge of our goal pie.

I was going buckle my shoe. A totally acceptable goal for a 4 year old. I don't recall what everyone else goals were (but, for the record I do remember who was there: Autumn Buchellato, Andrew Stewart, Sean Wood, Heather Henderson, and Justin Patrick). We all eagerly began working on our respective goals.

Later that day I was sitting on the steps and I did it! I buckled that damned shoe. Of course I then proudly announced to everyone that I had accomplished my goal. Taking my social cue, Heathers Mom then loudly, so all the other kiddies would hear, declared I would now get to color my ENTIRE pie chart. Wait. What? No. I still remember her bringing over the recycled cool whip container filled with broken Crayolas and saying "pick a color and fill in your entire chart".

Now, if you know me then the issue at hand should be clear: I had to pick JUST ONE color to fill in my pie chart?! This was crazy. No way. Not only did that mean my pie could only have one color, while everyone else had multiple colors, but I had to settle on what that one color would be. Impossible. It was harder to select a color then it was to buckle that shoe.

When I called my mom tonight to find out exactly what in the hell Joy School was, I recanted the story about the pie chart and she said she remembered that happening. I no doubt complained about it then too. She then reminded me of another amusing childhood story:

So there I was, a few years later in the Fall of 1987. At the Stride Rite Shoe Store I started trying on shoes and couldn't decide which to get. I mean, it was the recession, and we were po' white folk. I didn't get multiple pairs. Whatever shoe I selected that day would be my shoe for the rest of the school year. Thoroughly pissing off the sales man, I demanded that I try on every shoe in the store in my size- every single one. Even though, it was really between three in my mind the entire time:
1.) The functional black sneaker. You remember- Reebok with the velcro
2.) The fashion forward pink bootie with the bedazzled ankle cuff
3.) The white moccasin with the native american eagle beaded on the front.

But that nagging question: what if the next shoe would be better?

I went with #2. I still wonder if first grade would have played out differently if I would have gone with the Reebok's.

Oh, and I colored my pie chart fuscia. Autumns stupid pie chart was teal, pink, AND yellow. Justins alternated between red, white, AND blue (very patriotic). Mine: just fuscia.

The morals of the story:

• I was either really advanced and/or I set an unlofty goal.
• So, I remember the first and last names of everyone in my Joy School group. Which is creepy of me.
• 25 years later and things haven't changed much: still can't make a choice to save my life (literally).

March Maddess Mega-Post

{Disclaimer: Don't get too excited. This post has nothing to do with basketball; turns out the Aggies let us all down this year, therefore I have absolutely no interest in what is happening with the Dance. }

I have had quite the month of March. I will now spew highlights at you. (In chronological order):

1. We kicked off the month with a party for Mandy: reinforced the notion that Karaoke should be a drunken-only sport.

(Millie, Katie, and Wayne getting down with their bad selves)

2. I went on an impromptu trip to Easton, MD. If it wasn't for this trip we would have never bought the "how to host your own murder mystery dinner" kits. I am certain when we break those out, it will merit it's own posting.

(stock photo- taken from another random trip to Easton in days past, I kinda go there a lot. This particular trip went undocumented- for many undisclosed reasons)

3. There was a pie contest. I lost. No more needs to be spoken of it.

3.5 Kaleb moved to D.C. and he won the Mary Ann McMullen jackpot! Right next door. Welcome to the neighborhood.

(Kaleb with chives... in space)

4. Friends from out of town came to visit. Good times were had with Kyle and Brigham from the Ohio State School of Dentistry.

(Andy, Me, Kyle, Diana, Kristi, Beckka)

5. Ladies Who Brunch began. Katie, Jenn, and Steph will bring new sanity to my weekends. Thanks. Just as a warning: I am about to become obsessed with THE DERBY. If you are reading this, you may want to impress me: I suggest buffing up your knowledge of the race.


6. Frogs! at the National Geographic Society. If you haven't gone yet: go. It was one of the best exhibits I have ever seen. Any exhibit that I walk away from saying, "If I ever kill someone, it will be a classy method like a blow dart gun" is obviously worth your time. Frogs are dangerous little suckas and you learn all about them at this chorus of colors, featuring the frog.

7. Saloun in Georgetown. It was said "Saloun never disappoints" and my friends, it did not. The lead singer of the jazz/motown fusion band was simply infatuated with Jenn. He sang to her, danced with her, and crooned at our table. Un-freaking-believable. We danced the night away and let loose. Good times.

(Again, pictures were not taken. I am thankful for that. Somethings just don't need to be documented)

7. Easter Dinner. Shout out to Jenn for hosting, KR for the glaze job, Christy for a cupcake that rivals mine, Nikki for the green bean casserole, the Bread Gods for the orange rolls (yes, they were heavenly), and to Jonathan for the prunes.

(L-R: Jonathan, KR, Christy, Jenn, Me, Todd. Front: Nikki, Aaron, Jenny, Steph, Katie)

8. There were two celebrity look-a-like discoveries made. Turns out Kyle is the secret love child of Owen Wilson and Matthew McConaughey and my roommate Maggie may have been the inspiration for the seamstress from The Incredibles (mind you Maggie has stronger bangs now and wears glasses around the house sometimes).

9. Jane (my roommate) and Seth got engaged! Congrats!

(Seth and Jane working together on the Flobee back in 2006... many more cooperative projects in the future, I am sure)

Spontaneous or Irresponsible?

There's a fine line between someone being cute versus being creepy. The qualifier is this: if the person in question is someone you like, then of course it is cute. If the person in question is someone you are not interested in, then of course it's deemed creepy. Doesn't really matter what the act is. i.e., guy I am not into buys me flowers: creepy... guy I am into tells me he was going to buy me flowers but forgot: cute.

Much like that, there is a fine line between spontaneity and irresponsibility. It is time to develop a qualifier for rash decisions.

Some case studies ripped from the headlines of my life:

• The other night I needed to buy some household items; namely, a hand mixer and a new duvet cover. I begrudgingly went to the store to pick up said items. I didn't purchase either. I returned with a 64 inch 3-D x-Kite! (and a slice of Costco pizza)

• Friday night I had big plans to spend a quiet evening at home with friends watching a wholesome history-epic (Far & Away). By the time the movie would have ended, I had crossed through two states and the District and was on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.

• Once (like five years ago) I went to get the mail and ended up in Seattle, WA.

• And not as exciting, but more relevant; the question I am faced with daily: "Go to work or don't". Now, more times then I care to admit I just don't go.
  

I like to delude myself into thinking that I don't regret much... so apparently, I am OK with my decisions. Even outright proud of some of them. However, as you also might know, just because I make the choice, doesn't make it the right choice. So, the need for a qualifier is now.

Drag Race 08

If you were close to me back in March of '07, you probably were forced to watch 2 Fast, 2 Furious: Tokyo Drift. It was a movie introduced to me by Michael "Pants/Helgesnuggle/Snugglesons" Helgeson. The movie, aside from having a compelling... dare I say, life changing plot, also boasts a dynamic showmanship of motor sport popular in Asia called "drifting". (Basically you slip your angle, break hard, lose traction, kick the clutch and go on your merry way- drifting about the roadway). This marks my anniversary weekend of watching that movie for the first time. Fitting, considering the story that unfolded on Sunday afternoon which I am about to tell...

Needless to say, this movie has continually inspired me.

A few posts down, I challenged Brad Rogers, DDS, to a race. Brad and I share the same make/model of car. As Mark Twain says "What counts is not necessarily the size of the dog in the fight, what counts is the size of the fight in the dog."

The terms were simple: we began at the same starting point, continued on the George Washington Parkway through Alexandria and then home to Arlington. Typically this takes about a half hour on a Sunday.

I left the lot first- Brad was a gentleman, allowing the lady to proceed ahead. Knowing that planning a well timed exit would be crucial. I had a crew (Mandy, Peter, & Matt) who looked out and let me know when there was a short window of time that my car could slip out before oncoming traffic would then block Brad. It was a beautifully orchestrated dance as my car glided across three lanes.

After Brad finally caught up to me, there was a bit of weaving in and out as fellow church goers tried to make their way home.

At this point, Brad did have a strong showing. I was clocked in at like 90ish (speed limit 45) and Brad was at least a football field ahead of me (thanks to a Utah road block *cough*Melanie Beal*cough). His speed? Fast. I was impressed.

Though when I rolled into Old Town I knew that not only speed would win this- but skill. I have navigated the streets of Alexandria many a time before. It is said, if you time the lights on Hwy 1 just right, you can hit them all green. This is something that I have only heard about though. Never have I witnessed it. Until this Sunday.

So, there we were, we broke for Hwy 1, deviating from Brads chosen route along the parkway. I saw my opportunity before me and I had to do it: I slightly ran a pink light to catch the rest green. Every light from the bottom of Washington to Arlington was green! It was a beautifully timed execution on my part.

I was nervous to go to the end point; what if the parkway proved to be faster? What if Brad won? Nonsense.

I pulled into the final destination parking lot and got out. Brad was no where to be found. I had to stand out side my car for a good while waiting for his arrival. Mandy even considered giving them a call to find out where they were... but they did arrive.

Bryson Bauchman, ESQ dissented from the group claiming it wasn't a race, but a game, since we took different routes. However, it was clear from the start that we leave the same place and we arrive at the same destination. First one there wins.

I won.

Here is Brad winning in the game of life:

I would like to thank my crew, and give a loud shout out to Brad and his crew (Bryson, Jack, Kim): you fought a good fight.

Mandy in Wonderland

This is one of those posts... you know the kind; a rave. It is going to talk about how great Mandy is. Now, if you know Mandy you will continue reading because you know she is great and you just can't get enough of her. If you don't have the honor of knowing Mandy (yet) then you will still continue reading because you know me and you therefore know that I am an elitist and only am friends with those worth knowing.


The thing about Mandy is that she really has a zest for life. Just enough to be contagious. I love doing things with Mandy because she doesn't half-ass anything. If she is going to do it, she is really going to do it.


So it was with her birthday celebration. We wanted a theme that could be fun with out being obnoxious. We settled on "Mandy in Wonderland" and went with the Mad Hatter Tea Party and visit to the Queen of Hearts.






There was karaoke, cookies, cider, cocoa, hula hooping, bubble blowing & all around magic. But that doesn't account for the true reason of the party success; it was because people love being around Mandy.

This is cliche, but when I am around Mandy I want to be better (hence why even after a few paragraphs I am feeling a tinge of guilt for putting the word "ass" in a post about Mandy- she would never approve). But, then again I love Mandy because she knows me, really knows me, and she still loves me. She is a bitcheesey sometimes, but all around a great person and a great friend.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MANDY!

Club Sandwhich not Seals?

Nothing offends me more then animal rights advocates. That’s right, you heard me.

I was at work minding my own business when I got an email from a coworker today. At the bottom of her email she had the typical signature along with this little graphic:

Is this lady for real? Yes, because at the very bottom of the email is this poem:

Oh Beautiful for smoggy skies, insecticided grain,

For strip-mined mountain's majesty above the asphalt plain.

America, America, man sheds his waste on thee,

And hides the pines with billboard signs, from sea to oily sea.
-George Carlin

I won’t get into environmental issues right now; they are only second to animal issues.

Back to the little fur balls. Do people really club seals that much? Nothing pisses me off more then people who are passionate about causes such as this... it’s like when I kept seeing stupid op-eds about the abandoned cats during Katrina... what about the abandoned PEOPLE? Or for that matter what about the people on the streets before Katrina? What about the kids being beaten or the parents who love their kids but can’t afford medical care for their ill child? What about grandma down the street living off food stamps and Medicare?

I don’t mind people having a cause. I, myself, have a lifetime commitment to four philanthropies (Prevent Child Abuse America, The Girl Scouts of America, the Children’s Hospital, and Orthopedic Research). Note: All humanitarian based.

So, she brands every outgoing message with a "don’t club the seals" seal... right, I was just about to trek out to Alaska and have a whack. But, you know something after seeing that moving graphic on her email I said "Not today, not on my watch". She must be reaching millions of potential clubbers and/or their influence over clubbers. (For the record, I’d rather have food on the table due to money that came in from killing a seal then have a cute seal overpopulate.)

I was getting all riled up after chatting with Wayne about this, so I ventured over to one of the leading volunteer sites on the World Wide Web; Idea List. I casually perused the site and here are some findings:

There are 2,924 “Human Rights & Civil Liberties” Nonprofit organizations listed within the United States compared with 2,004 “Wildlife & Animal Welfare” nonprofit organizations. And an inconvenient truth: there are 4,759 nonprofits in the US focused on “Environment & Ecology”. Did you get that? We (thanks Drock and Jay) crunched the numbers. That is 62.75% more tree hugging clubs then people hugging clubs! (excuse the "club" pun). Sickening.

They basically say they would rather spend all their time, mental and physical energy and money on some animal instead. I say, lets take all that and focus on domestic violence, drug addictions, homelessness, poverty, medical attention, mental illness, prison reform, terrorism, the global market.

I will leave you with a quote before I go to visit the elderly tonight:

“We do not support the killing of any animals but we consider the slaughter of the seals to be humane.” – Trevor Scott, Executive Director of International Society for the Protection of Animals

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Calm Down... I have more to say.

First of all, the namesake of this blog is not the dictate of this blog; I will be blogging of things not related to NYC. Like right now.

That disclaimer is due to a few people crying about my blog name... of those people is Dan Clark. (You heard me, I just called you out on my blog. ) Anyway, his blog is called DC Motoring . The title pays homage to his name, where he lives, his car obsession, blah, blah, blah. So, yes, a bit more complex then mine. Whateves.


But, that got me thinking about how much I love my car. My blog password may, or may not be "saving-up-for-some-sick-spinners-and-maybe-new-neon-lights-to-put-beneath-the-undercarriage". I bought my car used, and am fairly certain the previous owner was a Latin male in his teens. Yes, it's that tight. After a fresh morning dew, when the sun hits the ultra-tinted back window just right, you can faintly make out the outline of where decals used to spell "Magaña" in old english script. (Shout out to Frank). Here is a stock photo (of the car, not Frank):




So, as I briefly thought of my unique car*, I remembered a journal entry from a few years back that I had penned. Quick Backstory: upon my arrival to the area, I had no car and a job working for The Man in the District. Which meant, I got to ride the Metro. Which also meant I had the treat of taking a bus to/from the nearest Metro stop... Here is a snippet of that journal entry, dated 6/26/06:


"I was sitting on the public bus and as the rumpled people began to board, I was dreading who might plop down next to me; would it be the old cigar ridden man, the uncomfortable spinster with cat hair all over her, or the kid trying to get home from school? I always disliked it least when it ended up being the kid. Best of all though, was when no one sat by me. When I was that kid, it was the worst thing ever to be on the bus and not have anyone to sit next to. It was an out right sign that I was a loser. Now, just the mere fact that I am car less and am taking the bus makes me that loser, so what’s it matter if someone sits next to me or not? Well, I will tell you why it matters: I like to get to my destination unchanged. That means I don’t want to smell like I’ve just smoked a few Cubans, I don’t want tiny pieces of Fluffy all over my clothes, I don’t want to catch the bubonic plague, and most of all, I don’t want to remember what it was like to be that kid."


______________________


*Brad Rodgers, has the exact same car as I have (there are slight cosmetic differences). I would like to issue a public challenge to him: Race on the GW Parkway on the way home from church. This Sunday. Since the cars are identical under the hood, it will show which of us has more guts. Bring it, Brad. Bring it.





P.S. Since I have been name dropping (like it's hot)... here is one more: HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEREK JAMISON!