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I collect hats. I love hats. I wear hats.
I wear a variety of hats: friend, sister, girlfriend, nanny-sitter...
Yesterday I wore a cowboy hat. Today I wore a red fireman's hat and became Miss Hannegan and Darth Vader (or, as I was more accurately dubbed: Miss Darth Vader).
It's a busy life.
Pamela
What she's eating:
Plain bagel with garlic hummus and cucumber
What she's crying about:
Poverty in South America
I just got home from house sitting, it's 90 degrees out and my floor is covered with the clothing I dumped out of my suitcase to ensure I wouldn't live out of it for another week. I'm tired and very content to just lay in my bed with Stuart - basking in the joys of the world wide web. Ah sweet waste of time.
This photo post is for all those who find great amusement in seeing me when I have just woken up. The last saturday that I was home, my mom walked in to find me sound asleap, laying in bed with the phone next to my ear and my jaw dropped (not drooling, amazing). She laughed at me. I got up and on passing a mirror, realized that the sight was worth laughing at with or without the phone.
Tonight in Spanish class, besides working on preterit and imperfect tenses, we shared about "una reunion de familia". I was previously unaware of this assignment. (I learned a lot really fast.) The closest thing to a recent family reunion that I could come up with was the wedding of my cousin Nate last saturday. While discussing (mostly in English) who was there, what we ate, did, etc, I came accross a very lovely and useful word: bailar (to dance). Other useful words (had I gotten any further) might have included divertido (funny), loco (crazy), espalda (back) and dolor (pain).Dancing is my favorite way to end a wedding reception. It was a lovely wedding, a beautiful/delicious reception, and a very entertaining dance party. I now think my favorite kind of dancing to watch is funky-dancing-while-holding-small-children. My cousins and their way too cute kids invented some great moves. As, I might add, did I - that little ball of cuteness is my cousin once removed (hah - figure that out), Annette. She was too tired to move, but wanted to make sure she got her share of dancing in. We spun and jumped and dipped and swayed until cousin Allison almost fell over.
But it was so much fun.
To satisfy my late night desire for candy/cookies/chocolate/crunchies, I put the kettle on and reach for a Penguin. My eyes quickly scan the wrapper for my joke. Unfortunately, I find a Funny Fact. These are not my favorite, but it's better than nothing, which would mean I wasn't eating a Penguin, and that would be sadder than a Funny Fact. Much to my alarm, I read "Funny Fact 4: It's impossible to lick your own..." I hope they're not going to say "elbow", because I discovered last week that this so called "fact" has been disproved. I turn up the flap to read the small, white on blue word underneath. "...elbow." I shake my head. I sigh. Because last week, in South Carolina, Miss Caroline Chick disproved this theory, as seen below.
Now I know it's all a lie. If you can't trust Penguin, what can you trust?
But hey - nothing beats that gooey biscuity goodness. I plunge my slightly bit off biscuit into my chai - that beautiful union of Old World and New - and all is forgiven.
Create your own captions. 
[My apology and defense for the general lack of pictures from my trip South: Reunion pics seem to have already been posted on various blogs, and as for pictures of the Schrecks... well, when I am having a really good time, I don't like to be bothered pulling out a camera. Suffice it to say, the week was so much fun I hardly took any pictures.]
Sitting on a hardwood floor with Stuart under my hands, the world at my fingertips, I ponder my location. Usually I am one to stay in one place night after night. If I'm tired, I go home to sleep rather than crash where I'm at. But in the last week and a half, I have been on two vacations, causing me to find myself asleep in a living room, an office and a hotel room, with two nights (and no days) in between at home. In a few days I will find myself sleeping in yet another room and another bed and another house, and possibly, using another computer. It's all well and good, and even fun, though I am currently left with a feeling of displacement - the open, half filled suitcase on the floor remaining out of convenience rather than sloth as a reminder.
Ah, but there are clothes on my bed. Where ever there are clothes on the bed I can be assured it is mine...
and I will go find somewhere else to sleep.
Here in SoCar the summer brings lots of water. Not so much water in sprinklers or pool, the only places to find it in the NW in the summer, but in the air, in the trees, on the ground and hovering over the rich, sepia mud they like to call rivers. It is also to be found all over one's body: clothes, skin, hair... I discovered that if you wear shorts that are even the slightest bit loose while painting a deck in the sun for five hours it is possible you might loose them. Nearly loose them. Water is also warm. Not as warm as the first part of the hose water that has been sitting in the sun, but warmer than your pool at home that has been sitting in the sun; not as warm as a hot tub, but warmer than the leftover venti starbucks cup of water that once had ice in it early that morning when you ordered a late and decided that caffeine on an empty stomach might make you dehydrated. There is this pleasant pastime wherein one grabs a kickboard, walks out into the ocean and floats in the waves, sometimes going under, sometimes riding over.
Last night I had possibly the ultimate geek dream.
The setting: picture Starwars plus Startrek set in some rural town in the 1800s.
The characters: me as Queen Amidala (that's right) and Danny as Mace Windoo. The small difference being that I looked like Natalie Portman, while Danny looked like Danny - not Samuel L Jackson. I'm not 100% sure I looked like Natalie Portman, but I know I was short. And there was also your usual array of "bad guys" and random children. Oh, and Spock, as a bad guy. I can't decide if Danny was on my side or what, though... he would be running around with me, and then only halfway help out with fighting the bad guys. He'd sort of stand there and watch or comment, but not really help.
The plot: Well, that's uncertain. My dreams don't often have clear storylines. I know we were against some "bad guys" but in sort of a Batman sort of style: we would traverse the area and stop people from being mean, pretty much, but I'm pretty sure there was an underlying conspiracy. I remember being in a hurry often and being really annoyed that we didn't have speeder bike things (like in Return of the Jedi) - we just had kid sized bikes (this may have come out of the fact I had to ride one for about half an hour yesterday). Sometimes, though, terrain permitting, we swung around on vines like monkeys. Not sure about the Starwars/Startrek connection on that one. Unfortunately, I woke up before the dream ended at all, but I recall being in something of a tight situation, so maybe it was better that way.
P.S. - Thanks so much to everyone who wished me a happy birthday yesterday: it was fantastic. And to kick off 22 I'm headed out of town. Yay.
...That I, after searching through my ziplock baggy of loose letters I have chopped out of various magazines over the past year or so and choosing five letters - namely, H A P P and Y - and after setting them out to glue them to the inside of a card, noticed that the A was the A from a Prada add. It was in the Prada font, whatever that is. I am afraid I might read too many fashion magazines. And when I say read, I do mean read. I nearly deleted that word and inserted "look at", which would also be true, but I felt it important to note that I do read them. Veritable gems of information and history - as well as good writing - can be found on those glossy pages: a gift for those willing to search for them. (And nicely sized capital A's.)
I walked around all day with a birdie in my left pocket and never noticed.
I over cooked topramen.
I left my sister stranded at work for an hour.
I...
Coffee. What can be said to truly express how amazing and essential this substance is? And what miracles it performs in my brain? Ah, it is the perfect companion for those who cannot put down a good book when it becomes midnight, one... two...
Penguins, "Britain's favourite sandwich biscuit bar", are difficult to eat when fresh out of the fridge. I was not aware this would be the case, when I excitedly removed the long red packet after steeping my teabag and preparing myself for deliciousness. But yes, I left the biscuit in the tea riskily long... I was afraid of loosing the bottom half before I tasted any tea on my lips. I would recommend to let them sit before dunking them.
I don't believe I have ever read the explanation of the Penguin name before today. It deserves sharing:
People have been p-p-picking up Penguins since 1932, and today Britain pecks its way through 430 million of them every year. But the question everyone asks is, how come they're called Penguins? Well, a biscuit this good has to be named after something a bit special. And when you can reach over a metre tall, swim at 30 miles an hour and go tobogganing on your tummy, you're a pretty cool bird. In fact, the only thing a penguin can't do is fly. And spookily enough, neither can Penguin bars. So does that mean Penguins and penguins have lots in common?
Not really. Just don't try keeping the wrong kind in your lunchbox.
(I hope you will understand why this made me think of you.)
Jon [Stewart] on Captain Ahab's vote:"The International Whaling Commission banned whale hunting 20 years ago but last week its members voted to repeal the ban, opening the door to resumed whale hunting. Said a representative from The Pequod, 'I've been arrrrr-guing this for a long time!'"
Save the whalers/wailers!!
I got bit today.
Bit good and hard. Six hours ago I was bit, and I still bear a mark. A swollen, pink mark. And my resentment is still poignant.
I get to see Josh soon. Which means I also get to fly in a plane soon. A sense of joy lights my soul in those small moments bearing realization that I still, in some ways, have the heart of a child. This afternoon I was standing in a yard with an expensive view with a little boy, feet in a pond, who turned his face to the sky in greatest excitement and wonder, the word "plane!" on his lips, every time that familiar rumbling sound crossed the sky. I also have a feeling of excitement and wonder as I see a plane, coming or going. I always wish to be on it. That little boy is still young enough to not know that feeling of wishing you were going somewhere. He is content with a hose and plot of grass to spray, and a golden retriever to terrorize. I, on the other hand, wanted to not be standing there, dodging pile of poop and spouts of cold water, rather wishing to be on a plane to South Carolina. But that is okay. I must be content wherever I am.
The moral of the story is:
Take joy and hope in the small things.
Don't try to force a two year old who does not want to have dinner to sit on your lap because no highchair is available: you might get bit.
I collect hats. I love hats. I wear hats.
This is my cousin's adorable little girl... 3 years old and extremely advanced in facemaking. 
I love love LOVE her. And look -
Pamela
Now I know it's all a lie. If you can't trust Penguin, what can you trust?
Columbia, SC. Check out that muggy haze, ya'll.
I know it's only a painting, but it still looks Southern, doesn't it?
Right downtown. What would southern businessmen do without fried chicken and sweet tea on their lunchbreaks?
Hehe.
While we're on the food topic ... Atlanta Bread Company!! Yay.
Huh. A beach where people need umbrellas to shade them from the sun. And they don't fly away. Amazing.
And what would the south be without a hot southern gentleman. And... sunburned noses (the particular reason for this photo).
My silly darlings. Such lovely buddys. I am lucky. Look at how they focus! 
Object of focus: Mike as he leads.
Me being useful... for once...
I love this photo that Mike took.
My Mom and I watch fireworks (and wait for Dad to bring us Starbucks. Aww.)
Oooo pretty!
