Monday, June 16, 2008


I like summer weekends more than most things. What can I say, I'm easily amused. I have been to a BBQ every weekend since mid May. I love BBQs, even if I don't like the food much. I love the atmosphere and people that go to them. Summer weekends also seem to be packed with more fun things that require moving around. I found this weekend to be especially pleasant.

Sarah had a fish fry, which meant I couldn't eat. It was still a great time. Elizabeth and Cody grilled chicken and brats, and David and Annie brought good bread. I am still poor since I have yet to see my student loan check (and have therefore been living on bananas and wheat bread for the last week), and so I couldn't bring anything. There was a watermelon seed contest. I think David won. He hit my car with one. I thought it was impressive.

I had to leave early for Chuck's show at The Red Sea. Don't let the website fool you; it was really a frightening place. Chuck's band was awesome regardless. He met me at nine and we took a walk around the east and west bank campuses of the university. It was very reminiscent of when we had class together and would walk over the Washington Ave. bridge. We didn't talk about the crazy guy that was in our group this time though (don't worry Chuck, I still think Slaughterhouse Five is a good book). I haven't been to a live show in a long time. It was great to feel the music vibrating up through my feet, and even greater still that I didn't have to sit on anyone's shoulders to see the band.

I fell asleep in the sun for too long and am nicely burnt on my shoulders, cheeks and nose.

It was Father's Day and I went over to my parents'. I got my dad a card with Bush on the front and on the inside I wrote an apology, stating that there were no Obama cards. Deep down, I'm sure he loved it. My mom got him a GPS that he promptly hooked up to the car, so the three of us drove to BFE, Minnesota to test it. The GPS was christened Betty Lou, which if you ask me, sounds like a pin-up name. I'm not sure what kind of GPS my mom got my dad. My parents are looking at cabins in central Minnesota so I got to see a few of the ones they're looking at. No joke, my parents are looking at a cabin in the same city the largest ball of twine is in. That's right, the largest ball of twine. For some reason, I thought this was a made up landmark in movies and books to get a laugh. But no. It's a real thing, sheilded by glass. I wish I was making this up. Congratulations Darwin, Minnesota for having the most pointless point of interest on the whole planet. I'm not really much for small town Minnesota, if you haven't noticed. My parents seem to love it, although my mom did ask once where they were supposed to buy groceries.

Incidentally, I also found that things don't get to me as much they used to since becoming a teacher. It's not every day a friend of about ten years reaches out to communicate after not really speaking to me for a year or maybe more. It's also not every day someone like this tells me in detail that I'm hated (yet does not acknowledge to me, and quite possibly herself, why) in a poorly written passive-aggressive rant. I was told, if not on a daily basis, a weekly basis, that I was hated by my students. For some reason I can still feel good about myself at the end of the day. Kudos to me for being able to respectfully deal with someone whose emotions have the maturity of an adolescent.


  1. naming a GPS betty lue? That is surely something unheard of ;-)

    as for your long forgotten friend... either you have done something veeeery nasty, or you should choose your friends more wisely.

    greetings from australia

  2. P.S. .. no comment on the biggest ball of twine... are you sure MN waters aren't contaminated?

  3. I WISH there was an easy explanation to MN...perhaps this is what we get when you leave the state. I'm holding you entirely responsible, Andrea.

  4. my grandma LIVES in Darwin. nice.

    p.s. I KNOW THAT YOU WANT TO LOOK AT THE BALL IN PERSON. I totally have a picture by it. It's okay. I know I'm a dork.