Dear...

Building 2 neighbors,

To whoever let their dog poo on our pretty welcome mat,

1) Your dog appears to be rather ill.
2) You owe us a new welcome mat from Crate and Barrel.

Thank you,
The girls in 226

It Could Be Worse

Just as with any memorable road trip, the journey of life is bound to hit a bump or two or even a seemingly never ending wave of them. I’ve spent a lot of time the past few months trying to figure out how to train myself to better handle these frustrating and rather discouraging bumps. After all, there are some cars that can take a speed bump at 60 without even flinching. How do they do that? Others have to slow to a snail pace, twist sideways and still bear down for impact. Blasted lowriders.

A professor in my department stops by my office at least once a week. I ask him how he is doing and he replies the same way every time in his thick New York accent, “It could be woerse”. I wish you could hear it. Old men make me laugh. Still he has a valid point. I’ve been using this line a lot recently to lessen the utter life-sucking overwhelmingness that manages to accompany life's road hazards. For example:

1) I was recently t-boned by a red light runner. My beautiful brand new car spent 3 weeks in intensive care and still has a few bruises and my neck is still sore. However, it could be worse. The other guy could have had no insurance or failed to claim responsibility and I’d be stuck with a very hefty bill and no car. Also, if I was in my old car, I am pretty sure I’d have no legs.

2 ) I now have to share my glorious window-filled office. This has been rather upsetting for a variety of reasons. However, it could be worse, I could be back in a stupid cubicle or I could have no job at all.

I am not convinced this is the perfect coping mechanism, but right now it seems to be a fairly accessible. When I think something is terrible, it's always possible to find a worse thing. There is something slightly cathartic in that.

So even though life isn't as fairy tale as I’d like it to be right now, and there is no way I could be the spokesperson for how to gracefully punch stress in the face; things could most definitely worse. I could be Lindsey Lohan. Yikes.

Eavestopping

The other day I was quietly standing near a conversation I was rather interested in. I was not a part of the conversation in any way, shape or form, but I was very intent on quiet, harmless, non-participation. So I stood there, listening closely looking as normal and breezy as I could manage.

Shortly after I was fully immersed in active although not technically welcomed listening, a sweet old lady came up to me. She grabbed my arm and went on and on about something I really could care very little about. My mom has always made me be nice to old people so I did my best to seem pleasant and act like I was paying attention. I was seriously stuck in politeness prison. I was technically preoccupied, but there was simply no safe way to explain that. Left with no enjoyable options, I sucked it up and put on my happy face. I nodded and smiled in response to whatever she was saying all while trying real hard to focus my other ear on the tantalizing voices just a few feet away. Seconds painfully passed until chatty grandma left me alone, hopefully not realizing I had no idea what she was talking about. Anxiously I returned my full attention to the conversation that was now over...fudgepops! Nothing could be more aggravating.

There really is just no polite way to ask someone to stop talking to your face so you can continue eavesdropping on some other far more interesting conversation. What is a girl to do?

Minute to Win It?

I was just watching a new game show where contestants are asked to perform random, seemingly simple and random yet ridiculously challenging tasks in less than a minute. The person to accomplish the most rounds can win some absurd amount of money.

The edition I tuned into was filled with former beauty queens. The wardrobe and camera angles were just a little too skewed for me, but really I just couldn't handle watching these girls humiliate themselves on national television. I thought surely they'd have some skill allowing them to get a decent job, but then one girl cried over unfortunately stacked cups.

About 10 seconds later, I realized how appealing this game would be for members of my religious social network. Silly, simple challenges with only community-specific prestige at stake. The kids will love it.

Why is it that when someone says 'competition' we are so eager to willingly embarrass ourselves? Excuse me while I go beef-up my cup stacking skills...

All the Small Things

Yesterday I had an appointment with the eye doctor. I got a sweet parking spot right up front so naturally I gave myself a mental high five. Then I hopped out of my car into a huge puddle. Oh right, that's why it was available. What a sucker.

The Doc asked me how much I smoked.
Me: Excuse me?
Doc: It says here (pointing to the screen) you smoke.
Me: No, no I don't. Look at this amazing skin.

Then he proceeded to drill me on personal information to make sure I was in fact the person sitting in the chair needing a check up and not the the random assortment of facts making up some person on his computer screen.

Me: Sir, I promise. I don’t smoke.
Doc: Hm...(rather discriminant) Must have been a typo.
Me: Um yeah, pretty sure.

He lowered my prescription by a lot which explains all my recently traumatic headaches. Phew. I got out of the chair feeling so proud of my eyes. They have corrected themselves to compensate for the beautifully massive high resolution computer screen I get paid to stare at all day long. They are so smart. As I walked over to the sink to put my new contacts, I searched around only to find the mirror was far out of my visual range. I glanced over at the Doc who was handing me the much more accessible child's mirror with a sympathetic smirk. Thanks.

Later, I stopped by the Wal-Mart to pick up some milk. I walked by the produce section and saw mini bananas. I had to adopt them. They are adorable. I walked by another aisle and saw purple plastic cups. I had to buy them. They are purple. After the cashier rung up all my essential items, I proceeded to stand on my tippy-toes to reach the thingy to swipe my card and sign my name. Now I have been too short for a lot of things, but I’ve never been too short to spend money. Really, Wal-Mart, when did you add the height restrictions? C'est la vie

That's New

Today I ran in a dress. I thought it would be really awkward, but I kind of liked it. I think I’m going to try it more often. Those tennis chicks may really be on to something.

I was running to catch a bus. When I got on the bus I got very dizzy. We will never know if it was the run or the bus, but good thing I carry Dramamine in my purse now. Curse you David Bowie!

Tonight I have to walk home in the rain in a dress and flip-flops. I have a feeling it will not be as fun as finding out how glorious it is to run in a dress.

You just can’t plan for some things. I love Austin, it keeps you on your toes.

On a totally unrelated note, I recently learned that 'con man' is short for 'confidence man'. It makes perfect sense and somehow it changes everything.

Otis

Sad news hit the Hall household yesterday. Our family dog was hit and killed by a careless driver.

As the shock set in I was surprised how much it affected me. Our family is not really a dog family; we are cat people. We don’t know how to give the attention required of dogs and yet Otis found a way into our hearts and became a part of our family.

He was quite the character our little, overweight pug. He couldn’t sleep without snoring, control his portions or jump on the couch, but he was sweet and innocent. He would stand by the window and wait for us to come home, not giving you a moment to breath before demanding a belly pat. He could run surprisingly fast when it was time for a bath or a nail clipping. It took 3 people to hold him down for medicine time. He was filled with dedication and loyalty. He warned us when cars drove by, when cats came downstairs and when he was hungry. He followed us around the house (when we had food) and kept our feet warm in the winter. We trained him to do a few tricks and that was always entertaining. He was an expert swimming and stair hopper. He was such a good sport about being dressed up. In his spare time he roamed the neighborhood, keeping things in order. Everyone knew and loved him (except for the crazy lady next door, but we ignored her anyway). He didn’t really love being outside unless of course you wanted him to stay inside, then he’d stare you down in the middle of the road just daring for a chase back home. He loved nothing more than to curl up next to us and take a nap.

It’s remarkable how attached we become to animals. Otis was getting really old and suffered increasing health problems, but I could never imagine him not being there when I came home. I always felt like Otis really appreciated the simple things in life and he was always happy. We loved him and he will forever be a Hall.

Goodbye, Otis, we will miss you, and I have no doubt there is an all you can eat buffet in doggie heaven just for you.