Took R* to his first drive-in last night. The first movie was really funny (in that high school comedy sort of way), but ended much too commonly. There was, however, a part, nearly three-quarters of the way in, that was so surprising we all gasped and, if we had not been so comfortably sprawled out in the back of the scion, would have most definitely been on the edge of our seats. The second movie was perfect fodder for the drive-in crowd. We didn’t pay much attention, but it was enjoyable nonetheless.
So, the movies were good, but not so good that we were bothered by the incessant young mothers screaming at their children to NOT GET UP AND STAY RIGHT THERE. The lot was full of cars, but not so crowded that you couldn’t have a perfect view of greek biceps and bums. The night was chilly, but not so cold that you’d wish you would have worn a sweatshirt over your tshirt. Instead, you snuggled under the sleeping bag and chuckled at the mom dragging her kid behind your car to the bathroom for the fifth time as Mr. Anniston raised his sword (and nicely shaped arm) in a way that only a pious half god would do.
All in all, a glorious drive-in night.

Yay for CPH! He has made it possible for my blog to be even more fun that it already is. Perhaps you’ve noticed that the most recent comments are prefaced with some very entertaining segues. So far we have:
Someone opened their mouth to speak, but….
The crowd gasped!....
Someone coughed quietly…
A hush of silence fell across the room. Then…
(This is my personal favorite) Everyone looked at the floor. Then…

Anyone have more ideas? Please?

CPH and I are looking for a new pad. We have to be out of our current place by July 1st. We’ve been given a heads-up on a place that sounds, to me, too good to be true. Nice 3 bedroom house, huge dining room, nice size living room, a loft (that I hear could be a cozy little office for a madly studying husband) and the rent is so much less then we are paying now. There’s only one problem: the location.
It’s in a quaint (but, I realize not without it’s faults a.k.a unruly kids) little neighborhood, that has a great association attached to it. The CDC that works within the neighborhood is even directed by a friend of mine. So what could be the problem, you ask?
I’m not a very good follower. Truth, be told, I’m horrible at it. I haven’t read the Harry Potter books, simply because everyone around me loved them. I might have gone to see the Passion if everyone, even strangers, had talked less about it. CPH ordered a book for me last week that I was very excited to read. At the begining of the week, I found it on the the best-seller list. Now, I can’t seem to make myself pick it up.
We’ve gotten to know a few, really great, people here. Unfortunately, the majority of them live in Fountain Square. So, when almost all the people that we have come to call friends in our new town live in the same neighborhood, there’s someting inside of me that screams, NO!

But, I’m still considering it.

My headphones are constantly on during the work day. I listen, (almost) faithfully, to this. I have heard a lot of good new music lately. When I hear something I like, I look up to see who it is and, as a result, have been feverishly jotting down many names on many sticky-notes. I just looked up during the last song and smiled when I saw this name. He was a local hero in Chattanooga. I never got to see him live, but I enjoyed him on NPR often. Props to you, Charles Allison.

There’s just something about an artist who can belt out a tune about someone they love but have lost. I’ve talked about it before, but not here. Here.
Usually, these songs are about people who have died.
At Ben’s concert, he sang about Elliot Smith. It was sad, but it still made me smile.
Sondre sings, I think, not to (about) someone who has died, but to (about) someone (to whom) he simply had to say goodbye. I like to play it loudly, at night, with the windows rolled down.
Same goes for this song by the beautiful Ms. Fleming.
Speaking of the beautiful Ms. Fleming, CPH just sent me a picture of her. WITH CHILD? Baby F&J was due May 10th. It must be the most beautiful child ever seen by human eyes.

I know some brilliant people. They are poetic, thought-provoking, and challenging people (to name only a few). I laughed at myself earlier, as I realized that I had just proofread an email that I was sending to one of my friends for, what could have been, the sixth time. I am so hungry for acceptance.

An old friend just sent me a picture of someone’s baby. Most of my crushes in high school and college were, at least, recognized by the receiver as being such. I pined for this someone for a good six months and he was either (A) completely clueless regarding my crush or (B) very good at hiding it. For obvious reasons, I’d like to think it was (A).

I have recently relocated a close friend from high school. I was amazed and excited to find out that he and his wife live in the edge city right outside the metropolis where I currently live. When he first emailed me, he had told me that he had a son. He just emailed to say that he couldn’t get together this weekend because his son is turning 2 this week. It completly blows my mind to think of Z* carrying around a 2 year old….that belongs to him.

My friend H* and I made a list a few months back of people from our college years with whom we would like to reunite. The warm weather is screaming ROAD TRIP, so we’ve decided to beef up the search for our lost friends. C’mon google, do your thing.
1. Mark Kennedy. Went to EKU (Eastern Kentucky University), but may have not graduated from there. I know he was there in 1996 and 1997. Used to work at K-mart. Maybe he still does. His mom probably still works at the K-Mart in Versailles, if it’s still open. Loved Kirk Franklin and saying mean things.
2. Mark Kiel. Went to EKU (Eastern Kentucky University) during the years that I was there (1996-1997). Was studying Computer Animated Drawing – or was it Drafting (CAD), but was also involved in the drama department to a small degree. Had a old car and a great apartment. Absolutely infatuated with the Tick (cartoon version, for sure, not certain about the TV Series).
3. Troy Sparks. Went to EKU (Eastern Kentucky University) in the mid to late 1990s. Also worked at Camp Lakewood in Potosi, Missouri at the end of the 20th century. Was a Christian, still may be. But I remember him mostly for introducing me to the idea of questioning my faith. He was reading the Celestine Prophecy, which at the time, I thought was a completely crazy thing to be reading. I think he got his degree in recreational education, or something like that. I wonder if he still does his BondFires?
4. Julie Runyon was so smart, I’m sure she graduated right on time. She was also at Eastern Kentucky University and I believe she graduated with a degree in physical therapy. She also absolutely adored Sleeping Beauty and had short hair that was full of body. She had the greatest Appalachian accent and was from a small town in Eastern Kentucky.
5. Rick Trexler, in actuality, shouldn’t be that hard to find. I hear he’s back in North Carolina drinking his Cheer Wine and sucking on Cow Tails. Maybe, we’ll make it to North Carolina, but somehow I doubt it.

CPH and I had garden duty last Thursday and saw that the weeds were quickly overtaking our veggies. Unable to tell kale from weed, we rushed home and put out a plea to a fellow gardeners to plan a day o’ weeding. Today, we all met around 4 to pull weeds and harvest some salad greens. It was a rather enjoyable afternoon. It started pouring near the end. I love rain in the spring time.

well it’s official. i am now the proud new owner of a beautiful camoflauge scion. i’ll get pictures of it tomorrow, but for now, I’m going to go try to not think about something, so that I can dream about it all night (or think about one thing obsessively until I fall asleep, so that I can dream about it all night). Funny how both of these methods seem to work for me. Now, if I could just control my actions in those dreams.

grrrr. i have been trying for the last five minutes to add a freakin’ link to a post, but i’m unable to do it on my stupid mac.

macs suck sometimes.

for real, though

i guess i’ll just go to bed and dream about the days when linking and uploading were easy things….thanks to apple and movable type, I can only fantasize about these things now.

sigh….....

finally! uploaded pictures from mother’s day weekend. the painted board you see was my grandmother’s biscuit board. My mom inherited it and used it until it started to crack down the middle. Then it was lovingly decorated with memories of Grandma Daugherty.

Go here for some great new music….

Go here for her, even greater, blog….

Word of the day thanks to Dictionary.com.

I mean, really, who came up with that? Someone brilliant, I say.

Thanks to CPH and CPH’s brother, the missed episode was downloaded rather quickly.

But, it wasn’t as gratifying as I had hoped. . .

I was glad that they brought Jason back in for the episode. They did a horrible job at seguing between Lorelai and Jason and Lorelai and Luke a few weeks back and it was good to see that wrapped up in a nice and pretty bow.

And now I’m off to watch Donna die and Josh be destined to a life of wondering what could have been…....

Why, oh why do seasons have to end????

Damn professional basketball and damn the WB for allowing the useless sport to run into Gilmore Girls playing time!!!!!

Damn them all to hell!

I saw the preview last week and I gasped. Oh my goodness! Rory’s going to become the other woman! Four years ago, I had to turn away from a movie that had the one person for whom I watch movies just because he’s in them. I had to walk away because he had become the other man and it just didn’t seem right to see John being that kind of person. But, I have put this off for nearly a full two days. Not only am I ready to see Rory become the adulteress that she was, apprarently, meant to be but I can’t say that I’ll be sad or dissapointed once the deed is done…...

.....And her morals waved good-bye as they flew from the chimney and into the dark, but starlit sky. ......

One year ago, I was freshly graduated and looking for a job that would justify my near 7 years of college education. Today, I wish I was back there (or somewhere) learning more. Six years ago, CPH and I were returning from a visit with our best friends. Today, we can only say that one of them is our best friend. Seven years ago, I had just lost a grandfather and was leaving with CPH on what was our first true test of our relationship. Today, I think we have just finished another. Ten years ago, I was near the end of era. Today, I’m frantically looking for my registration sheet for my ten year high school reunion, so that I don’t miss the early bird deadline and have to pay the late fee.

Helped J* clean out her closet in anticipation of the arrival of R* and all his stuff. I gawked and laughed as I folded t-shirt upon t-shirt, but afterwards I thought, “I have nothing, save memories, to remind me of my high school years.”. What does that say about me really? Maybe, I am someone who doesn’t harp on the past. Perhaps, I am someone who lives only for the present. If you really know me, you know this isn’t true. I spend most of my days remembering how things used to be. And, I’m glad that I threw the Bo Box down the trash chute. If I hadn’t, I would still look at it today. I’m resigned to the fact that I might have to give up some of my past so I don’t screw up my future.
There are some things, however, that I just can’t give up…........and they are hidden in a box in the damp and dark corner of my garage.

A friend of mine had a very meaningful dream a week or so ago. He researched it quite a bit and was amazed at how accurately his subconscious had mirrored his fully aware conscious. Another friend had a dream this week that was absolutely prophetic. Is it possible that some dreams can tell your fortune (or failure) and some dreams happen just so the your inner-self can come out and play? If it is possible, who decides which one I’ll get tonight?

I have a friend who turned 40 this past year. He had lived through what was, inarguably, his most difficult year. He had lost his job (which was also his passion), he had been diagnosed as bi-polar, and he had started marriage counseling with his wife as, what looked like to us, a last resort. His wife and I were on the back porch one night and she was telling me that he was regretting this one the most, not because it was a mid-life milestone, but because he always imagined he would be somewhere great at the age of 40. Each one of us makes goals for certain ages. Is there where I imagined myself at near the age of 30? I wonder how George feels today.

CPH set up a way for me to listen to our music library from work. I am very thankful. One of the first albums I stream: Ben Folds. Hearing it a week or so ago would have made me very happy, but now it makes me sad.

And so it goes.

I’m home this weekend givin’ it up for my mama (sigh…why danielson, did you not write back?). We head out on Saturday morning for a community yardsale that rivals all other community yardsales. I found some great stuff, which I will post about (with pictures) when I get home.
Our last stop, I swear, was an alternate universe. I’m minding my own business, looking at the table filled with a variety of useless (to me) items. I hear, “Tonya, come over here”. I walk over to the cashier’s table and my mom smiles, points to this tiny little girl (I would say in the age range of 5-8), and says, “That’s Tonya Jo”.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. That’s nothing special. You’re from Kentucky. There must be thousands of girls with the name Tonya Jo. But, let me assure you, that as a child, I was the only “Tonya” (spelled with an O, not an A!!!). Even as an adult, I am constantly correcting people’s spelling of my name. And to find someone with my full name was a bit disconcerting.

I shake my head, catch my breath, and say, “really?, that’s bizarre”. She’s got long, thin blond hair, blue eyes and non-fair skin. She was me in an alternate universe. Honestly, I was a little freaked out.

Names of real people and real places have been truncated. Names of computers have remained, because, let’s face it, computers shouldn’t be allowed that courtesy. Sorry, Canister, but that’s how I truly feel….
me: so does this mean your computer is set up now?

him: i am actually on my brother’s computer right now. I dont want to connect mine to the internet because it is STILL dial-up here and I dont want to expose my computer to that.

him: But, it is up now and sitting pretty on my desk in my cluttered room.

me: haha

me: you’re computer won’t hate you if you make him go slow for a few days

me: (he told me so)

him: yes it will! my comp is still going through C* withdrawal…

him: it doesnt like its temporary home. Although Canister (my comps name) said he is looking forward to moving to I*.

me: but he will have dial-up here too

him: not for long. J* said we could get high-speed wherever we move to. And Canister said he wants to move up north.

him: I warned him about dial-up, but he said it was okay as long as he was up there.

me: what if he and j*’s computer don’t get along?

me: have you even thought about that?

him: well, we’ll have to cross that bridge when we get there. If necessary, i will have to mediate some counselling. But, hopefully they will get a long with each other.

me: i hope so, for their sake

him: they will have to share peripherals, and I dont quite know how either will react to that (i havent told canister about that yet…

me: maybe it’s better not to tell him

me: he’ll adjust once he gets here

him: either that or refuse to boot up because of it.

him: he had a hard time not being on A*’s network and had to adjust.

me: poor canister

me: he’s going thru a lot of changes

him: yeah. I guess he needs some stability.

me: you should move soon

him: like…. tomorrow?

me: that way he won’t get settled in there and then have to move again

him: he has been pretty nasty about passwords as a defense mechanism. maybe it is because he doesnt want to settle in. I guess I should just let him do that until we move up…

First, this is one reason that I am thankful that I am married to a dual-citizen. If this passes, mark my words, I will be moving to Canada.
Second, the farmer’s market downtown is back for the season. Some friends and I walked down during our lunch break and looked at the flowers, baked goods, and honey. The vegetable selection left much to be desired, but I have faith that in a few months, my refrigerator will be teeming with yummy fresh asparagus, corn, and green beans. What with the farmer’s market and our cooperative garden, I will (must) be transformed into a healthy eater.
Third, the tickets have been purchased for my trip to Boston in July. I will be going sans-CPH, as he will be heading up that way in October. I had to twist her arm several times, but I think I have convinced sister-in-law to tag along.

I was talking to a friend last week about the mystery of summer camp. I told my friend that sometimes I wished that I could just run away every summer and work at camp – That there was something truly magnetic about throwing yourself into an all-consuming relationship with something (some people) for three months and then returning to your normal life for the remainder of the year. I said that the only alternative to running away to be a camp counselor was to be a secret spy. The following are the top 5 reasons I miss camp (or why I would consider becoming a secret spy):
1. Anonymity – I love the idea of going to a new place and being able to re-create myself. The first summer, I knew no one intimately. While the college that I attended was represented well, we were all only acquaintances from an organization on campus. We were required to use nicknames at camp. I became Tojo. I also became the resident improv girl, the snort-laugher, the music lover, and the girl who loves to cuddle. I became the “other girl” to one person in particular and found that, for the summer, I didn’t even mind being that. I went back to school that fall as a changed person, but still a little different than I had been at camp.
2. Candor – Because of (I think) the anonymity involved, truth flew like a bird that has been released from a cage. You might be thinking, if you have re-created yourself into something that you are not, how can that be truthful? Allow me this rebuttal. I don’t think that I ever fashioned myself into something that I was not. I believe that I was, however, able to let the parts of me, that were hidden from those who knew me on a continual basis, shine through as a part of me for the summer. I was enabled, during these summers, to be myself – wholly and purely. Would I want my friends who saw me everyday on campus to know that my secret passion is to be an actor on Days of our Lives? Probably not, but could I tell those people who I would probably, after this summer, never see again? Absolutely. Could I tell my friends at the Baptist Student Union that I rarely felt that presence that we talked about (sang about, danced about) every Tuesday night; more importantly that I wasn’t even that distraught that I couldn’t feel it? How uncomfortable would my roommate be to find out that I found cuddling (non gender specific) to be my favorite pasttime? My girlfriends at camp didn’t seem to mind.
3. Acceptance. I pondered this question just last week. Is it better to have a friend who is absolutely accepting of your flaws or a friend who will tell you when your morals are skidding down a steep hill? First, let me say that I think it is important to have friends who have the same morals (beliefs) as you because they will be able to show you (tell you) things that you might not want to see (hear). But, it is refreshing to meet people who take you as you are and not who you are trying to be.
4. Obsessivity. I am, by nature, a very obsessive person. Throwing myself into something for a determined period of time is very attractive to me. During those summer months, I thought about nothing but camp and camp alone. Camp was the world that I was living in and nothing else mattered much. It was however, not something that I thought would be gone in three months. I simply could not comprehend what was beyond August.
5. Memories. I once likened my memories of camp to a home movie. Sometimes I pull down my memories from the top of my crowded closet and sit and be sad. Someone told me last week that it’s good to be sad sometimes because it helps you to remember the good things in your life – that it is better to be sad about something then never to have experienced it in the first place. My friends are brilliant.

First off, I’d like to send out PROPS to the rain gods for helping me out last night. CPH and I were supposed to participate in a day-o-gardening, but got a call in the early afternoon that the ground was too wet for playing in the dirt. So, instead we headed north right around dinner time to hear this beautiful man and his beautiful hands make beautiful music.

It was, of course, a spine-tingling, awe-inspiring, breathtakingly amazing concert. We had, at the beginning of the show, what we thought were great seats (8th row back). I could see the opening act perfectly. But as soon as Ben walked on stage everyone jumped to their feet and I was left looking at the backs of the heads of people enjoying his outrageous facial expressions and fast-moving hands. But once I was in the back of the auditorium, where I could sit on the back of the chair and see him perfectly, I was the happiest girl anyone’s seen in a while.

This is the second time I’ve seen him, the first time was in a tiny venue in Atlanta. There were maybe 200 people at that concert a year ago. This time the auditorium at Purdue was packed. I missed the intimacy of the small room, myself, but i could tell that those around me were enjoying themselves immensely.

Near (what I felt was) the end of the show, I leaned over to CPH and asked him if we were going to stay for the encore. Maybe this isn’t even a question that enters into anyone else’s mind, but I am very conflicted by the whole idea of encores. I actually respect a band/person more if they end when they say they are done. Forget the bullshit about giving your audience more. You’re a rockstar, you know they want you to do an encore. Why not make every song f’ing great? Why wait to play those songs that everyone loves (and surely by now, you hate) until you have succumbed to their loud and methodical pressure (clapping)?
We gave in and stayed. I wished we hadn’t. We walked out as soon as he started playing a song that I love, but i know that he hates.

shhhhhhhhh.