My Babysitter of the Year Award is going to be revoked.

I was babysitting for my usual family on Saturday night. Great people. Lovely kids. Not a bad way to spend an evening, playing, making a few bucks. The parents walked out the door, and immediately, the baby (20 months) began to cry hysterically. Wanting to cheer her up, I decided to take the two kids outside to play on the recently-installed swingset. This was a super idea, as both kids had a great time, and peace was restored once again.

After a while, I decided it was time to start getting ready for dinner, so I rounded the kids up and marched back to the house. Upon arriving at the back door from whence I'd come just an hour before, I realized that the knob wouldn't turn. I tried the front door. Locked. Basement door. Also locked. Window? Not without breaking it. "This is not a good situation!" exclaimed the 3-year-old. Indeed!

Trying not to panic, I began to ponder my options. Not to say I had very many, of course. The kids were getting hungrier, and the baby would soon need a diaper. I could call the parents...but no, as the cell phone numbers (and my phone, for that matter) were all in the house. I was getting rather nervous by this point.

As a last resort, I sheepishly approached the neighbors, who happened to be outside working on their lawn. They were more than kind, inviting us into their house. While I minded their two daughters in addition to the two rugrats already under my care, they somehow managed to contact the parents, getting the code to unlock the garage door. It was an agonizing and somewhat embarrassing situation. The neighbor was even kind enough to feed the kids dinner, which I definitely appreciated, as they were most likely starving by that point.

After they ate, we trooped back to the house, and I even managed to get them to bed on time. Their parents found the situation quite amusing, but I was completely mortified, and for a while, certain they'd never invite me to watch their kids again. Not so, however, as they began listing dates they'd need me again. Whew. Still, though, sometimes I can be such a ditz. Ugh.

Were you touched by His Noodly Appendage?

I am endlessly amused by this, an open letter to the Kansas School Board. While the School Board is proposing that Intelligent Design theory be taught in public schools, perhaps they should be aware that there is more than one theory of intelligent design.

Aside from pondering whether eating spaghetti is a sacrament or an abomination, I haven't been doing a whole lot lately. I've been completely lazy. I did go to the art museum today, which was lovely. I decided to sketch for a bit, and at one point, a guard came up to me an complimented me on what I was drawing. It was an awkward moment, for several reasons. First, my drawing isn't too great at all. I just started drawing a few months ago! Second, I mainly draw for my own amusement, not to impress anyone. And finally, but related, I hate when people look over my shoulder when I'm writing/drawing/reading. It seriously gets to me. The guy meant no harm, but it still gave me the jibbidy-jibbidies. Oh well.

Now, I leave you with this. It also amuses me.

My car bit it.

I know, I know. I haven't posted in forever. I've been busy.

The latest bad news is that my car is broken! As I was driving home from Mass on Saturday evening, it died right in the middle of an intersection. No good, I tell ya. I figured it was the battery, so this morning I called a garage and asked if they could replace. Sure, they said, bring it over. So I got in, turned the key, and...nothing. Not even the half-hearted rr-rr-rr it had made the other day. Not even the slightest click-click. Nothing. This is a problem, I said to myself. I called the towing company, cringing at the thought of a towing bill. But what could be done? It couldn't be helped. The towing guy showed up, told me that in fact the battery was absolutely corroded, and that if he could jump start my car, I could just drive it to the garage. Which he did, so I did. It was much cheaper than towing the car, so that was a happy thing. After I dropped the good old car off, I had to walk home. I was that person walking down High Street, something I swore I'd never be. But it couldn't be helped! It wasn't an awful walk, anyway. Just annoying. I'm hoping it doesn't rain today, so when I walk back I don't get soaked. We'll see. It's always an adventure.

Nannies gone wild?

One of the more interesting things I read today was about a nanny who was fired because of things her employer read in her blog. Said employer is a journalist for the New York Times, and published an article about how horrified she was at her nanny's "secret life". Looking at things from the nanny's point of view, however, it seems to me that this journalist was completely over-reacting and needs to understand that her nanny can have a life and that this life needn't affect her job performance (which I don't think it was, to be honest). The nanny's blog is here, and she has written a response to the NYT article.

I've read all of this with a combined feeling of intrigue and horror. It causes me to wonder, how do people view me based on what I've written in this silly little blog? And how does that view change between people who know me in the flesh versus people who "know" me solely based on this blog? I don't think that my blog contains any startling revelations about who I am or what I do. I think the overall picture is that I'm a wannabe artist who has bad luck with burglars. Other than that, not too much excitement here. But one never can tell how other people will interpret one's writing. I certainly hope that my employers wouldn't think me a bad influence on their children based on something stupid and trivial like a blog. Though ultimately, I think that would just make them look stupid in the long run. But hey, you never know.

Blogging is a dangerous business these days. There are always the stories of people being fired for blogging at work or giving away company secrets, but this takes it to a whole new level. An even sadder level. It reminds me of high school, when everyone had online diaries in which they gossiped about everyone else. When this gossip hit the halls of school, it was an absolute nightmare. The he-said-she-said was ruthless and destructive. I'm glad that I'm beyond that phase; I'm just hoping it doesn't make a recurrence.

In the meantime, this cheered me up significantly, as it's completely ridiculous. Try to resist watching it more that once, I dare you.

Same shit, different day.

Last night, I woke to noises at about 1:30. Heard people going up and down the stairs. Heard them upstairs.

No one lives upstairs right now. The people renting the place have some stuff there but aren't living there themselves til the school year.

Telling myself that last week's incident must have been a fluke, I eventually fell asleep again.

This morning, there were two police cars in the parking lot. Then a detective with a camera. A flury of action. Up the stairs, down the stairs. Knocking on doors.

When they finally got to mine, I gave them a piece of my mind (in a polite, respecting authority kind of way, of course). Had they actually done something last weekend, maybe the place upstairs wouldn't have been broken into and robbed. I don't know. I guess that's what happens when one lives in the student slums.

It's just that this has never happened to me before. Generally speaking, things have been pretty safe here. Now, I don't know. I don't know what to do or what to think. Should I buy a dog? A shotgun? A few more deadbolts? Maybe, maybe. I could deal without all this stress! I could deal without waking up to CSI on my lawn.

Hey you kids, off my lawn!

If anyone is having an angry streak and needs to beat someone up, you can start with the guys that tried to break into my apartment this morning.





<----They broke my screen door.

The cure for boredom!

Or possibly the death of productivity. Either way, my latest discovery on the old internets is StumbleUpon. It's a Firefox extension that allows you to flip through really interesting websites on topics of your own choosing. It also allows you to rate and review sites.

Some of the cool things I've "stumbled upon" just this afternoon:

• PostSecret- On this site, people mail in homemade postcards with a secret on it. It's pretty interesting to see what people are hiding. Also, a lot of the postcards are quite artistic.
  
• one word.- They give you a word and sixty seconds to write about it. A good cure for writer's block.
  
• The Zoomquilt- Amazing. Not much to describe other than that.
  

And that's just a little bit of it. I'm hooked.

Rinse. Repeat.

So other than painting, drawing, painting, drawing, painting drawing, paintingdrawing, I haven't really been doing much lately. Occasionally I eat or sleep or watch tv. Oh, I went to yoga on Tuesday with Nicole, which was super. The instructor is a complete hippy. I often wonder if she ever gets angry or even the slightest bit irked at things. I can't see it happening. In any case, the latest news from her is that she is taking a pilgrimage soon. I didn't find out where she's off to, but I would assume India (again).

Other than that, well, I lead a boring life. But that's ok. Maybe it's better that way.

Waterfall (unfinished). Watercolor.

Three more.

Shells. Watercolor.

2:37 am. Pen and ink.

This should be interesting...

From class today.



I sorta rushed to finish this, but I kinda like it. For the record, watercolor does not stay in the lines!

Oh amusement

Some may recall that I went through a phase during which I would write haiku about random stuff. Well, this site is my new favorite! Haiku, funny pictures, politics...what more could you ask for? Here's a sample:



And the text to this picture:

I write on my hand.
It helps me remember stuff,
like "Me = President."

Chemistry will be the death of me.

I tried to post before, but the Internets ate it. Tragic, truly.

Tonight was my final in analytical chemistry (or "anal chem" as Dr. Frost calls it). I really didn't care how I did on it, as I previously calculated that I'd need a 120% to pass the class. My chances of acheiving that? Slim to none, and slim just rode out of town on a fast horse. Oh well. I will have to pass it eventually, but for now, I'm just glad it's over.

Upon pondering why I am so mediocre at school these days, I was reminded by Katie that the science program is intended to weed people out and make them fail. "But why me? Why am I being weeded??" I wailed. "Well", she said gingerly, "I think that most other science majors study. A lot. Like, all day. Hardcore studying." Perhaps she has a point. Perhaps if I cracked a book open once in a while I'd have an easier time. The fact remains, however, that I hate chemistry with an undying passion, and to have to spend any more time on it than I already do would be infinitely more torturous. Alas, the torment of the natural sciences!

In any case, I have one more final this week, and then I'm home free! For the weekend, anyway. Then it's on to the next big adventure, in this case, art classes. They may end up being a bloodbath, but anything's got to be better than analytical!

Unreal.

This has got to be one of the most disturbing things I've ever heard of.

Some select quotes from the article:

Aborted babies used in Russian anti-ageing fad

The foetal stem cell therapy is not only being used to smooth out wrinkles, but is also being injected into other parts of the body to get rid of cellulite and excess flab...

Investigations are currently being carried out into an illegal baby trade that sees impoverished women from Russia and the surrounding countries selling their aborted foetuses to unscrupulous specialists for as little as £100...

"Doctors tell the women or girls that there is a problem with their pregnancy and that the baby has to be aborted, or else they are offered more money," said Shorobogatko...

Russia's oligarchs are continuing to develop the stem cell treatment that will give them eternal youth...

Just, um...wow. That's seriously messed up. To tell a woman that there's something wrong with her baby so you can buy it and sell it at fifty times the price??? Wow. Errr, I don't even really know what to say. There's so much wrong with that that I can't even begin to figure it out. Whose planet have I stumbled upon, and when can I go home?

Evidently.

Evidently, if you're rich and famous, you can molest children and get away with it.

Evidently, if you have a Ph.D, even if you hate what you teach and are bored with life in general, you're allowed to be a chem professor.

Evidently, if you lose seven pounds in a week and a half, people go ape-shit.

Evidently, if your bilirubin is up, it means your liver is messed up.

Evidently, I've lost all talent for writing. Meh.

I delight in being ornery.

Well, friends, I admit it: I am my therapist's worst nightmare. Really I am. I am bitter and sarcastic, and I question almost every suggestion put forth. As I have been sick lately, I have been struggling with eating, which is not such a good situation for a recovering anorexic. This was of some concern to both my therapist and myself, so as I was leaving, she insisted that I stop at the friendly neighborhood Wawa to get something to eat before class. "But what should I eat?" I asked. "Don't ask me that!" said she. "But there's nothing gooood...." I whinged. "Oh don't be ornery," she said, with a glare that said, 'you are testing my patience, Lisa, of which I have a lot. So cut it out' (yes all that from a single look!).

So I am ornery. Cantankerous. Quarrelsome. Yup. That's about right. It's not that I set out to be that way. It's just that I'm, erm, a bit stubborn, one might say. I know I really shouldn't be this way, especially with someone who is trying so hard to help me out. Especially with someone I'm paying to help me out! Nevertheless, I find myself arguing and ranting and whining to a superlative degree. I happen to believe it's part of the healing process for me. Gives me some sense of control. If I went along with every suggestion without a fight, I'd be the same spineless twit that got herself into this mess in the first place. So I whine and complain and counter every thought with a twisted-logic gem, and somehow my therapist, God bless her, puts up with all of it. We have a good working relationship. Even if I am "that patient".

The Mystery Illness returns.

I have been sick now for about four days. Four. In the past 50 hours I have eaten 2 crackers and 3 spoonfuls of cous-cous. Doing good. How bout that eating disorder recovery! Yeah! Anyway. If I could just stop throwing up, life would be good. I went to the Health Center. I was there for about an hour, yet they provided me with no health. They gave me some lovely drugs (Tigan, Zantac) and a bottle of Gatorade to boot. My lucky day. Oh yeah, and I'm not pregnant, which is always a plus, though that was fairly obvious to me, but I do whatever makes the good doctor happy, so whatever.

I got a phone call today from the hospice volunteer coordinator. I was afraid it was the dreaded, "She died" phone call, but in fact, it was a phone call in which they were wondering if I had died. Nah. Just been busy. Then away. Then sick, then busy, then sick again. So I've been slightly neglecting my patient. I feel awful about that, but at least I know she's still alive and I can make ammends.

In any case. I'm hoping I feel better pretty soon. I can't handle this shit. I feel like I'm going to pass out. Matter o' fact, I'm going to go to bed now. I am going to attempt to actually go to class tomorrow. Eep.

The internets live!

I have not in fact fallen off the face of the earth. My internet has been down for almost exactly one week. I had a fun time trying to get them to fix it. I called the company twice, with no results. So I figured that by the third call, I was fully authorized to throw an official shit-fit. Which I did. I called, and they put me on hold for ten minutes. Nononono. So I called back and said (with a snide and sarcastically cheerful tone to my voice), "Hi, I just called and was put on hold for ten minutes, and I'm approaching furious, so you need to find me someone to talk to." The woman was slightly freaked out, replied, "Yes ma'am", and then I spoke to a lovely technician named Josh who helped me try to figure out the issue. Good old Josh, he probably lives in his parents' basement, but he was a swell guy, who, even though he didn't get the problem fixed right then, was very cordial and promised to see what he could do. Less than 24 hours later, my internet lives, and life is good once again.

In any case, my 21st birthday was a good time. I only had three drinks, but they were quite good. It was unfortunate that the band at 15th North sucked that night, but it was quite entertaining that my older brother (who I haven't seen in ages!) bought me an apple martini, which may or may not be my new favorite drink. All around, it was good times.

Since then, I've been sick, busy, sick, busy, sick, and then busy again. Not much of a life, to be sure. However, I have worked in time for painting and occasional napping, so it can't be all that bad, right?

Being foolish when there is work to be done.

Contrary to popular belief, being on vacation is a reason not to post here. I didn't have a computer all week! And to be honest, it was kinda nice. Being away was great. I was in the Outer Banks for the week (Corolla, to be precise). The best part of all was that it was free! Yup. All I had to do was chase after six children between the ages of 5 years and 5 months. Many people thought I was insane for going on this trip, but it was actually one of the coolest thing I've ever done. The house we stayed in was ginormous, the beach was beautiful, I got a new pair of Reefs. All in all, a quality experience.

Since then, I've returned to West Chester, and I find myself once again hammering away at summer courses (analytical chem and psych stats, as it were). Everyone else is doing exciting things this summer. They're going to exciting places: Atlanta, Australia, San Diego, Mexico...you name it. But not me. I'm going to be here the entire time. And then, when the summer's over, I'll still be here. I guess there will come a time when I will long for this place and my college days, but when I'm being forced to listen to what a "sigma" means (Psych stats is torturous. It's like a bad flashback to 7th grade algebra), it seems that I can't get out of here soon enough.

The only good news is that my 21st birthday is finally here. Well, almost. It's Friday. This Friday! There will be much alcohol and merriment, so be sure to come on out. Email me for details if you're interested.