Paranoia can be FUN!

I’ve been paranoid pretty much my whole life.

I watch people.  I watch vehicles.  It’s a little game I play with the world called: What if someone was out to get me.

(I’m not serious about the out to get me thing.  It’s more a game to pass the time.  I just store the information in the back of my head for “just in cases.”)

I’m not sure if I mentioned it, but I saw an anonymous man in Sears a couple months ago who later appeared in a missing persons report on the news.  I called the cops and described what he was wearing, how he was walking, what he was holding…

I could overanalyze it and say that it’s from reading too many detective novels as a kid, or from Mike working security at Target and busting felons, or from watching the movie Conspiracy Theory too many times… but I think it’s just a control thing.

I like to know what’s happening.

So if you drive through my neighborhood in a tan cargo van after dusk doing 10 mph, then turn down my street and continue to the end only to turn back toward the subdivision exit, I’m probably going to remember your license plate.

C#Y#1.

I don’t know you.  I put you on file.  It’s nothing, until it’s not.

After all, Halloween is coming up and there are gonna be a lot of little kids roaming around.

If my brain was a computer, I’d have a file filled with oddities and random useless knowledge.  Probably stored next to my quotes from Anchorman and all that stuff I learned about diamonds back in the day.

I also remember where Mike’s keys are.  24/7.

And the answer is: yes, on the banister under his hat.

I don’t need hobbies.

Six years

I had a moment of weakness today.

I’d attempted to set my blog to private.  It was the compromise I’d made with myself since I was struggling to hit DELETE BLOG.

And then somewhere around the time I deleted my Twitter account – something I used only sporadically and usually to learn of the latest earthquake – I chickened out.  I couldn’t even make it PRIVATE.

Yikes.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been at this so long.  I thought it would be easy with the week-(or more)-long hiatus that I’d taken from writing here.

But when I get down to it, I’ve been writing Sweetened Taters since November of 2005.  Six years!  It took me a while to figure out my “blog voice,” but I feel pretty confident about who I am on here now.

It seems like such a waste to throw that all away.

Maybe I’ll get brave at some point to make this blog private or to delete some posts, but not today.

I’ve got enough going on in my life that I don’t need to take away my therapy.  At least for now.

I’m not ready to break up.

The end of nipple blogging?

My favorite moment of the week came this morning thanks to my six-year-old.

I was dragging the recycling containers out of the garage when Emma laughed: “Mom, it’s not RECYCLE day!”

Like, duh.

I looked down the street, and, sure enough, no garbage cans.

“It’s not Tuesday, is it?  Sonofa….”

While I realize this means almost nothing to the people of the Interwebs, it was the moment it dawned on me just how much time and energy and sheer brain power this college degree is draining from me.

Who needs a degree anyway?

You may have wondered why I fell off the face of this blog.  I had a Lit Review to write and it turns out I happened to pick a topic that was interesting.  That translates to: complicated.

Of course, I didn’t realize this until we were way too far into the process to start over.

While others had their neat little stack of 40 pages of sources, mine came to a grand total of 450 pages and 2 ink cartridges worth of print.

While others talked about homecoming weekend and going on roadtrips, I fantasized about going to bed before 1AM and not spending yet another night falling asleep in a pile of paperwork.

While others handed in five-page reports, I struggled to keep mine under FOURTEEN.  Yes, 14.  One four.  Fourfuckingteen.

Which I wrote yesterday after reading the last of my 20 sources.

I’m sure it’s a literary masterpiece.

But it’s over… at least the majority of it.  Unless they tell me to start again which means that I’ll be writing you next from prison.

Another reason the blogs are a little slow is that I’ve been contemplating what kind of career I’d be interested in. I’ve had a lot of car time to think about it, and I want to do something challenging but meaningful.  I want to want to work every day, and not just for a paycheck.  I thought of that saying: the one about going where there is no path and leaving one of your own?  Yeah, that one.

Well, last week, my professor brought up Intelligence.  With a  capital i.  We chatted and he gave me a pamphlet that he’d just happened to get in the mail (because of his previous work with the FBI and Intelligence gathering).

I flipped through, thinking that I was certainly too old (30, gah!) for the FBI, even though it had always interested me.

It was at that moment that I saw it, in the bottom corner of one of the pages.  The only quote in the entire booklet:

“Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.”

                  - Ralph Waldo Emerson

So I laughed and called my hippie sister and told her it must be a sign.

But the funny part is: I’m contemplating it.  I’m weighing the challenges and the benefits.  I’ve got a meeting with my professor in two weeks to go over my options.

Odds are I’ll still take the GRE or some form of it, perhaps the LSAT.  I’ll probably apply for an internship with the FBI in the Summer.  Who knows, I may change my mind.

In the meantime, though, I’m contemplating cleaning up my internet history as much as possible.

I don’t want my future boss to be reading about my affinity for nipples or the body hair that plagues me to the extent that I could body double for Freda Kahlo.

Or do I?

to be continued…

The Pumpkin Extravaganza

I love my sister.

She called me up about two weeks ago and said, Remember that the Pumpkinfest Parade is coming up next weekend? Yeah, can you HELP ME with the float???

And then I laughed maniacally and crawled from beneath my mountain of books and paperwork.

I didn’t want to give too much away on Facebook before the big day since I ended up seeing some of you there (oh, excuse me: chucking candy at your kids’ heads) and wanted the theme to be a surprise.

The parade was Rocking Around the Pumpkin Patch or something like that, and Stephie picked a Gnomeo and Juliet theme since she runs a hoop house.

Did you know that NO ONE sells gnome costumes over size 18mo?

So in my infinite wisdom, I offered to sew them. And told her I’d do it the Thursday before the parade.

Which meant that she’d call me or text me five times a day all the way through Thursday morning, asking if I’d started them yet.

Um, yeah… suuuuure I did.

They turned out cute, I think. Considering.

Here we are, waiting to be judged and getting ready for the parade to start in the staging area.

Alison was really excited to play her drums for everyone. She was especially crushed when I told her the drum solo would have to be much much quieter, or we wouldn’t be able to hear Crocodile Rock and Saturday the 1000 times in a row thanks to Stephie’s iPod’s inability to SHUFFLE.

It all worked out. Steph and I ran/jogged/speedwalked next to the float and emptied bags upon BAGS of sugar-laden treats on the children. You are WELCOME!

I told Stephie I had a bit of a laugh (internally, of course) when a piece of candy pegged a kid who was too impatient to wait for me to throw it. The small pleasures…

We headed back to Jeff’s house where we received the phone call from my parents. They’d been in the crowd on my side – right in front – but I’d apparently been too preoccupied with throwing stuff at kids’ heads and missed them. They told us that Stephie’s float won FIRST PLACE.

Which called for a celebration.

We immediately forgot that Stephie’d spent half her morning in tears, scrambling to finish her papier mache pumpkins while I screwed together the flowers and turned an empty trailer into organized chaos… all in less than 2 hours.

Instead of dwelling on THAT, we decided to get krunk.

We stole Jeff’s neighbor, Jason (red hat), and drove to Stone City for drinks and fried pickles.

And since I’m a beacon of responsibility, I just remembered that Stephie’s half-empty bottle is riding around in my Suburban…

Then it was back to reality.

I was tired and sunburned, and I had loads of papers to write for school.

Thankfully, Mike has been taking over the important parenting duties. Like watching Star Wars together.