Ah, yes

Today, I had lunch with Dr. Urbanczyk! And Dr. Bruce, but he doesn't get an exclamation point. Although, I think he no longer doesn't like me and I have decided that I like him, but not his oddities. Emily Looney thinks I'm absolutely crazy. (That actually wasn't random, believe it or not; she ate lunch with us) I can't deny it. But she is, too.

ANYWHOO...
You missed it, Brian. We totaly got Dr. Urbanczyk off on a tangent about Wal-Mart. It was great. But then we were reading the little thingamabobbers on the table- the activity thingy- and on it, it says "Bettie Seller's John Kay" and Anthony asked one of them who that was and Dr. Bruce was telling us that they are colleagues and coming to speak about a Georgian poet-laureate (did I get that right?). At which point I said "Oh! There's not supposed to be an apostrophe there and there should be a comma between them. I thought it was a novel she'd written or something." And neither of the Doctors had realized that. So Dr. Bruce said "Yes, she's a ventriloquist and John Kay is her dummie's name" So he and Dr. Urbanzcyk (and all of us) laughed about it for a little while until Dr. Bruce said "Yes, I have to introduce them. I've been wondering how I was going to do that. I think that's how I should". Dr. Urbanczyk thought this was hilarious. I thought it was pretty funny, too. I was like "that would be great" and Dr. Urbanczyk said "Yes, that would be highly entertaining."


Dr. Bruce was pretty funny today in class. I felt bad that I had to leave so many times. I felt bad for the person sitting next to me as well...

I thought I was going to die this morning. I seriously could not breathe. It's really fun to wake up at 4 am unable to breathe. You should all try it one day. I highly reccommend it. Most fun I've had in years.

O.k. that was really lame, but hey, what do you expect from me? I'm tired, anyway. Let me submit to you that tiredness isn't great for writing intelligible things. Just ask Dan. I don't want to go class. I think I might fall asleep. Why am I so tired. I'm confused. But tomorrow's Saturday. I don't think I've eaten an actual meal all week. Just salads. Why won't they make Chicken Parmagan? I miss eating meat. Sorry Amy. But meat is good.

(PLEASE DON'T READ THIS, JILL, YOU WILL NOT BE HAPPY AT ME)

Spring Break is almost over and I'm not entirely ready to return. I miss you guys, but I am actually liking being here. That's new feeling. I honestly don't think I've been happy to be here in nine years. I'm absolutely serious about that (yeah, i know i'm only 18, but that is a carefully thought about statement and I'm pretty sure it's accurate). I've been saying that i was ready to get out of this hell of a town (well sort of a town...) for at least five years. So I guess it's nice to just enjoy being here.

This week certainly calmed some of my fears about my extended summer. I'm almost positive that this will happen and the funny thing is, I'm really not that depressed about it any more. Certainly, I'll miss school like crazy. I can't imagine how much I'll miss you guys. And that thought is depressing. Very depressing. More than depressing, but I don't know the right word for it. But I'm not depressed about having to spend seven months here anymore. I'm sure that I won't like it. I know it'll be exteremly difficult come the end of August when my sister goes back to Ave and I stay here missing you guys, missing the classes, missing Thursday nights at the Crimson Moon and late night trips to Casa de Waffle, dinners that last an hour and half, bread wars, dancing elephants, Dan playing guitar, laughing in sync with Jill and Lauren, staying in Villa three watching movies until 3am, missing Dr. U's "frigginfragginfrugginfrick" outbursts (thanks, Brian), Dr. Hartmann being Dr. Hartmann, and everything else that I could possibly miss. But, I don't know, somehow this week I've come to peace with the fact that I might be here for a while. I'll have work and, who knows, I might take a few classes at the community college.

I think that I can do this.

See you guys tomorrow night. Well, for most you, I think it's later on today now.

Kids say the darndest things

They really do.

"Can I have a waffle, Cat? My sugar's low."

"Mom, can I get out of the car?" "No, wait here, I'll just be a minute" "But, Mom, I need to exercise!"

"Why do they call them cheeseboogers?"

"We can't sing that song Cat, it has the 'a' word in it!"
"What??"
"Alleluia"


"What if God tells me to be a priest?"
-"Well, Dom, I guess you'll be a priest."
"No I won't. I'll run away"
-"Like Jonah?"
"Yeah, just like Jonah"
-"What if you get swallowed by a whale?"
"Well, I won't be a priest, then 'cuz I'll be dead!"

Isn't this just Loverly?

For some reason the 'Loverly' song from My Fair Lady is Stuck in my head and I'm really happy so it just kind of came out in a song. I've never been this happy to be home. Little kids to take care of, floors to mop, food to cook, laundry to wash, people with colds to look after (not that I wish them sickness...). The only not so grand thing has been the doctor to visit. And by the way, though this comes as no surpirse to any of you, I'm sure, I have been officially diagnosed with asthma and been given perscription drugs to treat it. Maybe (hopefully) you won't have to put up with me hacking in class so much anymore. Hartmann will just have to find something else to tease me about. Shouldn't be too hard...



But back to my wonderful week and the conclusions that it has led me to come to. I have to start at Saturday night at Mass. My four year old brother wanted to sit next to me. After the homily, he decides that he's tired of behaving. I gently tell him "Dommy, stop making noises". He does. For a little while. Then he doesn't want to stand. I pick him up off the pew and set him on his feet. He promptly collapses at my feet (how he managed to not hit his head, I can't figure out. Obviously, he's pretty practiced at this...). Great. I have to leave him. I'm not Mom. He knows that this will cause a scene and Mom is in different pew because, well, there were eight of us and the church was full. Eventually, he slithers onto the pew. Now, it's time for the offertory. He does something really naughty (can't remember what it was) and I told him stop. At this point, he scoots over to my sister, Carolynne and burries his head in her arm. He's really pouting. We're not amused. Until he pops up, looks at my sister, gives her a thumbs up and dashing smile, looks at me, then gives me a thumbs down and the most spoiled rotten youngest child frown he can. Now we're trying really hard not to laugh at him. So we ignore him until the Sanctus when he refuses to kneel. We can't let him just get away with it; it's a spoiled, willful thing and needs to be curbed. So we each grab one arm and hold him up. This really does not make him happy. He squirms. We are forced to let go or he'll scream. (This really is making him sound like a brat. He isn't. He just has sever youngest child syndrome. Yes, Jill. There's a youngest child syndrome. I don't care if you think there isn't. It's probably only because you're a youngest that you can't reconcile yourself to that fact.) So this continues until the sign of peace. When it heightens. The lady who was sitting in front of us (looked JUST like Wanda on Wishbone, only she had blonde hair) patted his hand (because he refused to shake anyone's hand) and he huffed and then wiped his hand off with his other hand while shooting the lady a "please die now" look. Luckily, she was paying no attention whatsoever to him. Ha, Dominic!, someone who ignores you with no trouble at all!! The consecration is his favorite part, so we had no trouble with him then. But afterwards, he started freaking out. “I need Mom, I need Mom” poor guy, he had a cold and now a fever.



On Sunday, my siblings had plans to spend the day at Aunt Holly's and Uncle Frank's. (Aunt Holly and Uncle Frank are on a cruise [so I won't see them :(] and they have a lot of animal that my sister is taking care of for them. They also have a pond. And we have a canoe type boat. [I haven't actually seen it in about oh, 5 or 6 years] My brothers love to fish and have just discovered how to row. And they are learning about the Amazons. And my sister is a writer so she's really good creatively. So, they are some sort of ship crew stranded on some Island or something somewhere. They have a ship's log and everything. It's all very interesting.) Anyway, Mom was doing taxes and I opted to stay home with her and come later. So I spent the entire day (I knew that we really weren't ever going to actually make it over to Aunt Holly's) in the kitchen. Scrubbing. Everything: counters, appliances, and floors. I forget who was there (or not there) when I had the “I miss mopping floors” moment. I know Derek was. He was the only guy there, poor thing. Anywhoo, I finally got to mop the floor. After I cleaned, I cooked! And then the siblings cleaned up dinner. While i was waiting for the others to come home, I flipped through the channels and what did I find but Wishbone. Hadn't seen that in years. And how many times have i had dinner conversations about it? (A lot) And in Villa 3.


Monday absolutely nothing worth taking your time to read happened except that I made chili. Monday night, Dominic was pretty sick with a cold, poor kid. So he decided that he would crawl into my bed. This wouldn't been a problem except that he was coughing in my face, not sleeping, and whining every time I moved. So, I got up to get him some medicine. He freaked out. I waited for him and took him with me. Got him some triaminic or something and he calmed down, went to sleep and didn't wake up until my alarm went off at 7:15. Which is really late for a kid who is normally up at 6 at the latest, saying: “come on, the sun's up, it's a new day, get up” and amazing considering that I woke up at 6:50 to AHHAHEEHHEHEEEEEE from our two brothers who were having a screeching while being tickled contest. I discovered that he talks a lot in his sleep. Actually, he fights with David a lot in his sleep...



So somewhere amidst all the chaotic and non-chaotic moments, I realized how incredibly selfish I've been about the next semester thing. The reason that I decided not to come back without more aid is not because I don't want to come out with a lot of debt (which is true) but the reason I decided not to come back without more aid is because of how unfair and selfish it is of me to expect everyone else in my family to sacrifice so that I can do what I want to do. I can spend four extra months here working so that don't have to worry about finding the money to pay the other half of Cat's tuition or (as in November, December, and January) the entire thing if she can't. They have needs and wants to and for me to come back next semester without more aid would be one of the most ungrateful things that I could do. And I found out that I miss home more than I ever thought I would. I miss being here when the little ones need me or want me or when they discover something new or being able to fix dinner when Mom is tires or mopping the floor or sitting outside listening to all the wild birds and other critters running around here and just thinking. I think that if I don't get more aid, I will be able to resign myself to staying here for a few extra months. I really don't want to but I won't die from it. So if you hear me whining or sighing about it again, feel free to slap me and say “Hello, the world does not revolve around you. Stop bitching about it.”

Have a Really Great Break!

That's all I want to say. Be safe, have fun, relax, and I'll see you all on Sunday! (Probably Sunday night)

Ummm

This a pointless and hopefully short post. I'm sitting in the library with 21 minutes (yes, I'm sure of the math) left until class. And abso-freaking-lutely NOTHING to do. At all. I mean, I've done my math homework and my only other class tomorrow is theology 201, so I only have about 10 pages of Exodus to read. And you know me- procrastination is the thing I do best. (Which is why I have my math homework done... figure that one out...)

SO... midterms... they sucked. Yeah. That's about all I can say. Maybe I passed my math test... Holy heck, I have a higher grade in math than I do in philosophy. And lit. And if I get my midterm grades back and math is my highest grade, I think I'm going to be one confused chicka. I guess there's a first for everything??? What a weird first.

In other news, Jack, the goose has hatched his ducklings. But I think you all know that. HEY! IT'S ALMOST SPRING BREAK!!!! Sorry. But I really can't wait to go home. I'm sick of this place. And all of you. Yes. You. But don't worry. I'll miss you by next Sunday. Maybe. But Maybe not. It's a possibilty anyway. And I probably will. I'm actually not sick of you, sick of you, just... tired of this place and need a change.

Somebody else handed me a survey... I have something to do...

SCC Saturdays

For all their boredom, I rather like Saturdays around here. Well, actually, I like the meals on Saturdays. Not necessarily the food, but the meals. There's a special sense of comradery different than the normal weekday friendliness (or not always so friendly-ness). A kind of "we're stuck here together with nothing better to do so let's talk" mentatlity. Sort of. I'm not really sure that that makes sense. BUT that's ok! You guys know how to translate!

I suppose that I shouldn't just count on other people knowing exactly what I mean. I guess that I should try and start communicating like a normal human being. Although... if other people can figure out what I mean, what's the point? Perhaps I'm not as bad as I think I am. I doubt it though. I know that my siblings and sometimes you guys have had to translate for me. Hmmm. What is the point of this? I don't even know. I've forgotten. I got sidetracked. I did start out with a purpose. Wonder what it was...

I miss my family. It's actually an odd feeling. I was never homesick before this semester. Never. Not when I was puking up my guts in Europe, not when I was navigating D.C. alone for three weeks (which I know is not a big deal, but it was for me at the time; small town Alabama kid alone in the city, a real city, for the first time), not on 4-h trips when I was younger, not last semester. I did miss my family ocassionally, but mostly it was missing staying up talking to my sisters until 1 or 2 in the morning, missing talking to my mother, missing my little Danny-Boy (who is the only person in my life who ever called me Kitty, but he does. I still can't figure out why he does or how he came up with that. It's not like we know anyone else named Kitty. He's also the only person in the world that I tolerate calling me that), missing being able to comfort my little brothers who would cry when they talked to me sometimes. But I never actually wanted to go home. And soon.

Talking to my family only makes it worse. And the fact that I talked to my family after I talked to my aunt and uncle (Aunt Holly and Uncle Frank, the one who makes me salsa and salsa verde; I'll probably mention them again.) who were telling me about how everyone was going to come over there around two (three here). This week, though, everyone also includes Christina, who is home on Spring Break and R.C., who I do NOT dislike. Or hate. In fact, I miss him, too. I really want to go home.

It also doesn't help that all they talk about is how shaken up everyone is down there. While Enterprise is 40 miles from my 'town', it's not like 40 miles to somewhere from where you guys live. People from my town know people from Enterprise. Heck, I know one of the girls that died (not well, but enough [from youth group things and going to Mass at that church]to recognize her picture). People from Opp and Andalusia (the two towns I live between) go to Enterprise on a regular basis. We used to pass through it every Sunday. When my mother was D.R.E., we would go there at least once a month because she had a meeting there. I know people who live across the street from the highschool and others who live near there. And, as much as I hate Alabama, there is a kind of generosity in the people. So all the radio stations are taking calls from people who were in the school, who knew the kids, or who went and volunteered after the tornado hit and letting them just talk on the air.

One of the guys that died had actually made it out of the building. He went back, got a lot of other people out, and then a beam and concrete fell on his neck. The stories about him are amazing to listen to. Ten years and he was never seen without a smile on his face. So it's not an impersonal tragedy, everyone in the rural parts for miles around is affected. Not drastically or anything. But they are in some way affected. If they don't know someone who died, chances are that they know someone who was injured; there were 50 people who were taken to the hospital, 40 serious injuries. Considering that competitions are friendly rivalries, the kids from the schools in my area, probably know kids from that school. I mean, I was homeschooled and knew kids from that school from places other than church.

The last two are St. John's Catholic Church. The others are of the High School.

Back to my homesickness. (yes, I know, no segue [is that how you spell it?])I shouldn't be homesick. I saw my family two weeks ago. But I want to go home. And this is a very new feeling. And slightly depressing because I really don't have a home. I'll be sleeping in my sister's bed (which used to be mine...) and I'll be living out of a suitcase. I'm not sure which is worse: the desire to go home or the knowledge that home is not really home.

Of Tornadoes and Overtime

It's very odd for me, typing in cnn.com, weather.com, foxnews.com, and msnbc.com and seeing a little town 40 miles from where I live (in fact, those pictures were almost all taken from the parking lot of the church where we go to mass on Holy Days of Obligation; it's mighty strange to see a national news broadcast from a very, very familiar place). The headlines, "At Least 13 Dead", "Deadly Storm", "Utter Destruction in South Alabama", "Students May Still be Trapped Inside Demolished High School"; I might know one of those people. Not well. Maybe not even directly, but it is a small world and it's an even smaller Catholic world, especially in South Alabama.

I've seen tornadoes before. Deadly ones. I've been through many major hurricanes that left virtually nothing standing. I am used to seeing destruction from weather. I'm not used to waiting to hear if my father was able to make it safely home driving through those tornadoes, watching the radar for where I live and wondering if there are tornadoes hitting right now, talking to my mom who says "ok gotta go now, the storm is too bad", or wondering if my sister is still going to even be able to fly into Birmingham and if she does, will she be able to be picked up all from over 300 miles away. I don't like it either. I would much rather be in the storm.