Journaling and such

I had an interesting idea today. I had brought my sketch journal to work instead of a book to keep me occupied during breaks and lunch, so I ended up writing a journal entry. And I thought, why shouldn’t I scan in some of my random journal pages that I have in various notebooks, in addition to some of the more memorable journal entries from my “real” journals in the past? So, as my first entry, non-interesting though it may be, I offer to you May 7, 2004.

I also had the most fascinating conversation with a co-worker today. I don’t think anyone from work reads my LJ, so I think it’s safe to talk about it—I won’t be “outing” Mike as a non-Christian, which, yes, would be a bad thing in bible-belt BG.

Wow, I just stole my own thunder. How lame is that?

Anyway, in our weekly department meeting, I mentioned that I’d be heading out to the Waterville Community Garage Sale this weekend. Now, Mike tends to come down to my cube and talk to me, anyway, since he noticed that Deb and I are so isolated, being in a different room than the rest of the department. (Given the cliqueishness of some people, though, we prefer it that way.) But today, he came down to ask about the garage sale. Turns out that he likes to thrift, too, which is cool. We got talking about what we look for, and I found out he’s a Medieval buff, collects Renaissance-related stuff and cast iron and things like that.

So, he drifted back to his own cube in the other room, and after lunch I got an e-mail from him. Funny shit—all sorts of whacked out pictures from around the net. I plan to post them on my page eventually. After that, he stopped past my cube again to ask what I thought of those pictures, and just to say hi before he went off to clock out for his own lunch.

And we ended up talking for an hour.

The conversation ranged from my soy candles to essential oils to herbs… then we got into a discussion about what he’d printed off to read during lunch: some Norse mythology, an epic poem about Odin. From which point we got talking about cultural history and mythology, which morphed into religion, of course. We were kind of feeling each other out (so to speak) about how far to go with the conversation. He’d mention symbols and runes and how often they’re misused, so I’d mention people’s misconceptions of the five-pointed star and its various meanings, so he’d mention how those meanings were explained to him, and so on. Eventually we both discovered that we consider ourselves non-Christians, but are kind of “in the closet” about it publicly, due to everyone’s misconceptions of paganism. That wasn’t all we talked about, though—we also discussed the Ren Fests and SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism) and Goth Night at Uptown and “dabblers” in Wicca and other poseurs in the counterculture. Anyway, I told him I’d be up for a double-date to one of the Ren Fests this summer.

Just to clarify, I don’t consider myself an all-out Pagan or Wiccan or what have you. I don’t believe in The Great Horned God as an actual entity whom I could call to assist me, no more than I believe that the Judeo-Christian God (whose name I do still have enough respect for not to put into writing) actually follows our daily lives. That doesn’t mean I don’t believe that a god may have had a hand in creating our world/universe, or that I don’t believe in an afterlife of some sort. Honestly, I’m just not sure, and I won’t be until I die. At any rate, just the fact that I no longer believe that Jesus was the Son of God would be enough to ostracize me from many circles.

In other news, I relocated the credit card that was lost on my desk at home, and managed to order Mom a Mother’s Day present. (Mom, I hope you haven’t found my LJ yet… but if you have, Happy Mother’s Day!)

P.S. – If you haven’t checked out my webpage lately, I’ve got some new sketches up. The U-Haul rut photos are also posted in the Photos section, if you haven’t looked at those yet. Good stuff.

Why can’t we live in L.A?

OMG. OMG. Go here and listen to streaming radio out of Los Angeles. It’s my goddamned favorite radio station reincarnate (practically), and it’s in fucking California! Aargh! I want!

Well, at least it’s a Clear Channel station. That means, if it does well in L.A, maybe they’ll assimilate the country with their new station format. Who’d have ever thought we’d think Clear Channel was a good thing?

…since when did I like Bran Van 3000 so damn much? I’m grooving so hard to this radio station, I don’t want to go to bed.

(But I have to.)

Petrol Sucks

—–Original Message—–
From: Diana Schnuth
Sent: Thursday, May 06, 2004 1:08 PM
To: Kris Heath (work)
Cc: Aaron Schnuth
Subject: Gas at Meijer

> Don’t pay too much for gas…I see it’s up over $1.90 now.

Let me share with both of you my Meijer escapade. So, gas there is only $1.83 or something. Only. Hah. I pull in to pump #14 and bring my purse out with me, and start to pump my gas. There was a small puddle in front of the pump that I took care not to step in, assuming it was gas. Anyway, I planned to put in $10 worth. The gauge rolls up to $9.60… 70… 80… I let go of the trigger —

— and it keeps pumping. The damn automatic latch is stuck, and I can’t get it to stop! The numbers scroll on… $11… $12… finally ending at $19.26, at which point I’ve filled the tank with mildly overpriced petrol. And, of course, I only have $14 in my wallet.

So, off I trek to the main store, to use the ATM and get out money for gas (and garage saleing, while I’m at it). No problems there, trek back, pay the nice girl, tell her about the gas spill, etc, etc. But, dang, that took twice as long as it needed to. *sigh*

It feels like Friday, too, but it’s not. How cruel.
– Diana


So, I was just burning a CD of genealogy info from my Mac to use on my PC, and opened some genealogy photos to test the burn. In the midst of my browsing and testing, I came across this image of my great-great-grandmother—my maternal grandfather’s maternal grandmother. (Did that make sense to you?)

Nora Marie Lemons, circa 1908OMG. Does anyone else think that, given a circa 1908 Katherine Janeway-style hairdo, I look like her? Can you see the resemblance? I can. It’s kind of weird. I looked at the whole picture, with her husband Harvey and child Lucille, and thought that Harvey looks a little like Grandpa Cook (or the other way around). Then it occured to me that Nora looks like Mom… and me! I mean, I know we’re related and all… duh… but it’s still kind of strange to look like someone who died almost a lifetime before I was born.

Beth, your family’s into genealogy—any input on genealogical photographic weirdness?

Good Intentions

I was so proud of myself. While I was at work, I scripted out the remainder of my day in half-hour increments. Half an hour for dinner, then cleaning the living and dining rooms, practicing mellophone, computer time, shower and personal grooming, all carefully plotted out.

When I got home, I saw Aaron off to work, ate dinner, and took a two-hour nap.


Ah, well… I guess I needed the sleep. Strike the mello practice, and strike cleaning. *sigh*

This Weekend

Yesterday: Aaron and I went to BG to meet up with Timmay for lunch at Campus Pollyeyes. Their salads are friggin’ gigantic, so we weren’t too sad about watching Tim eat his yummy breadsticks. It occurred to us that they always kinda sit funny in your stomach, anyway—not in any sort of “sour grapes” sort of way, but in thinking of how Aaron and I would react to so much bread right now.

We spent two hours there at Pollyeyes, talking and catching up. Tim told the best drunk story ever, including him passing out on the train and being awakened at the end of the line and having to walk five miles home while calling his passed-out roommate who’s locked Tim out without his keys and then Tim eating breakfast at a local diner and finally breaking into his own apartment to find his roommate passed out in the bathroom. Classic story, and better than anything that ever happened at BGSU. I miss Tim. Heh.

After hanging out with Tim, we hit Goodwill and the Woodville Small, then went back up to Best Buy to purchase a scanner. Scanners these days are so cool. We got one that scans transparencies (most do now) and comes with this spiffy-assed scanning software that automatically detects where the pictures are on a strip of film and brings them up as thumbnails. Holy crap! Soooo cool. (Or maybe I’ve been away from cutting-edge technology for a while, having graduated college and all, and am just out of the loop.)

So, that was Saturday in a nutshell. Today involved me getting up and leaving the house around 9:20, getting ass-raped by the National City ATM (since the Sky ATM isn’t exactly close to home), getting half a tank of gas, and driving up to Clawson. There I met Barb and Russ, and they drove the rest of the way to the first official LakeShoremen full-corps rehearsal in Montrose, Michigan. Basically, a three-and-a-half hour trip one way for me. Rehearsal was from 1:00 to about 4:00, and was quite productive and very cool. We got to rehearse in an Ensemble setting with the percussion, then put the colorguard with the group as we figured out a parade formation. It’ll be interesting to see how the parade goes in two weeks—we didn’t get to actually move the parade block outside of the gym, as outdoor practicing was noise-prohibitive. (The drumline tried it and got called by the superintendent within five minutes.) In other related news, I started getting that old familiar twinge in my middle back, below my shoulder blades—the one I get when I stand at attention with my horn up for extended periods of time. It’s not an “ouch I hurt something” feeling; more of a “hmm I don’t use that muscle much and it’s really starting to feel hot and cold at the same time and it’ll be sore later” kind of feeling. And, yes, it’s sore right now.

Anyway, I finally got home around 7:15pm. Long day. Aaron had dinner just about done when I got home: barbecued chicken and grilled yellow squash. Mmm. He’s off doing food shopping now. He did my job of laundry earlier in the day. He’s so cool. I’m so lucky. *contented sigh*

My Butt

There were some of my friends in drumcorps who thought it would be great if a corps named themselves “Your Butt.” Not a name like the Cadets or the Vanguard or the Scouts or anything like that, but Your Butt. The one-liners would be great:

Ladies and Gentlemen, from Flint, Michigan: Your Butt!
Drum Major Dan Clouse, is Your Butt ready?
Your Butt may take the field in competition!

And so on. I’m only reminded of such things because I was thinking about my butt.

If you were too squeamish to read the LJ-cut from my last entry, you may not know that my butt is not exactly in shape yet. (Have you been looking?) Anyway, I located the post I was thinking of:

15 December 2003: Ladies—have you ever been walking behind someone, maybe someone at work, and finally taken a good look at their ass? And then you say to yourself, ‘My God… I hope my ass doesn’t look like that!’

While searching for this quotable, though, I did discover that I’ve been feeling uncomfortable about my ass for some time now. Almost exactly one year ago, in May of 2003, I said, “BTW, I never realized how dimply my big ass was until I cranked around and looked at it in the mirror at home, framed by the wondrous thong. I know, you didn’t want to think about that. Well, neither did I. Deal.”

Heh. Yeah. Except I wasn’t on Atkins then, and I was 41 pounds heavier than I am now. (!!!) Now I know I can do something about my butt if I give it a good try.

One other thing: You know when you’re sitting in the back seat of a car, and all you can see of yourself in the rearview mirror is your nose, chin, and neck? I used to hate that; I’d crane my neck to get my double-chin to finally almost disappear, and then just get depressed. Well, today I went to lunch with some folks from Lockbox, and sat in the back seat—and saw no double-chin! Holy crap, it’s gone! It’s really, totally gone.

And I don’t miss it.

Randomness to keep the boredom at bay

Dammit… I hate it when I’m bored. And tired.

My definition of being bored is when nothing you can think of sounds good. Usually this is when I would eat something. Good thing our fridge is out of instant food snacky items like hot dogs and lunchmeat and low-carb tortillas, and I’m tired of string cheese.

So… um… I guess I’ll go through my stack of scrap paper on which I have written things I should blog about, and write about them until I decide it’s time to go to bed or go read or something. (I really do have a stack of scrap paper on my desk, with stuff I need to do and to blog about. I write myself notes at work, since I’ll get canned for posting to my LJ on the job, or even on break.)

I made an unfortunate discovery last night. Remember back when I was blogging about “I hope my ass doesn’t look like that”? (I can’t find the entry, but I remember writing it.) Well, before I took my shower last night, I was contemplating myself in the full-length mirror. —Yeah, I know, just hold your upchuck till the end of my story, OK? Anyway, I was contemplating the fact that I recently downgraded (or would it be upgrading?) from “obese” to “slightly overweight,” according to my BMI of 30. Sooo… I took my hand mirror, turned around, and looked at my bare ass.

And let me tell you, it was not a pretty sight.

My ass does look like that.

I look much better from the side than from either the front or the back. Get myself a boob lift, lose some more paunch/gut/fat/belly/whathaveyou, and I’d be looking downright normal when viewed from the side. From the front… now that’s going to take a bit more work.

In other news, hearing 30- and 40-somethings in my office discuss how to spell “whoop-ass” (or, as they insist, “whup-ass”) is quite amusing.

Something else I heard from one nearly-50-year-old woman in my office, regarding her 401(k): “It’s my future—you’d think I’d pay more attention. But I don’t have the time to look into all these things! It’s like a crapshoot; you just hope for the best.” Wow… I’ve got thirty-some-odd years until retirement, and I check my 401(k) at least monthly, if not weekly. This woman is my Mom’s age, and she just doesn’t give a shit. That’s amazing. (Of course, my Mom’s going to be working until she dies, for lack of any savings whatsoever.)

Oh, and you’ve gotta take this quiz. The results will amaze you.

After you’ve done that, use some free long-distance minutes to call this recording: 248-262-6861. It’s a Detroit number, and it’s just the cost of the long-distance call. It’s not some weird 900-number thing. Just call it, OK? You’ll be glad you did.

OK, um… I think I’m done now.

Tonite There’s Gonna Be A Jailbreak…

Remember Loni from Lockbox, the nice God-loving woman who’s my Mom’s age (almost exactly) and has been trying to get a new job for a couple years now? Well, she finally made a jailbreak, and will be working in Deposit Support, which is my department. Not Quality Control, our… sub-department, I guess, but still in the same realm. She’s supposed to be moving to her new job in two weeks or less.

Having been there, wanting to leave the crazy hours and moderate stress of Lockbox, I feel so happy for her. She’s getting ready to move to an 8-to-5, ultra-low-stress position, which may not pay her more money but will still be infinitely worth it.

We’re all going to lunch tomorrow—current employees of Lockbox, and former (myself included). It’ll be fun to get together with everyone again… and Loni and I will try not to rub it in how much better off we are (or will be).


Just got done “double-digging” a quarter of the flower garden. Basically, it’s just turning over the soil, but doing it so that the dirt from Point A ends up at Point B, and vise versa. I was also pulling out roots and rocks as I went. Holy crap, that’s a lotta roots. I only did that for half an hour or 45 minutes, but my hands are all tired and I feel like I’ve done some serious work. At least I’m a quarter of the way done, though—only three more days of double-digging. Then off to get some Miracle-Gro Garden Soil and mix that in. Then off to get some plants.

I was surfing around online just now, basically just wasting time, and discovered that is no longer active. Hmm. After a little Googling, I found a Mighty Mighty Bosstones fansite that says,

I’m sorry to inform you that this site is dead. The reason being is that The Mighty Mighty Bosstones have “Basically” split-up. In Technical Terms, they no longer are touring together. They are on “HIATUS”, or so they say.

Dicky Barrett – Announcer for Jimmy Kimmel Live – Catch him at 12:00 on ABC on weekdays
Other Band Members – They are taking time off to be with their families, and those without familes are touring with other bands like “Less Than Jake” and doing their own thing.

Wow. The boys have been together for nigh on 15 years (ten if you only include the quasi-original lineup that split a few years back), and they finally decided to take a breather. (Kind of like Catherine Wheel, who has been “parked” for the past three or four years.) Anyway, another site’s forum gives indication that this has been in the works for a year and a half now. Damn, I’ve been out of the loop.

And, as a side note, pages with white text on a black background hurt my eyes after a while.