umm... thank you?

My sister Lizzy is a statistics professor at BYU.  One of the perks of this position is that she can take classes at the university for free.

This semester she took a swimming class.  I read this story on her blog today and I thought it was funny, so I'm posting it here for all my friends to read too.  (The stipulation was that I have to plug her blog.  Click here. Read Lizzy's blog.)

During role call, the teacher called her name.

Another student in the class heard her name and said, "Neeley? Are you related to a statistics professor Neeley?"

She said, "I am the statistics professor Neeley."

The student said, "Oh. I'm in your class..... You look different in your bathing suit."

Awkward.

unintentional prank calls

When I was home helping out with the move last week (see previous post) my mom was trying to get a hold of my dad.  Dad stayed behind at the new place and is notorious for being hard to get a hold of since he never has his cell phone on*.  The new house is close by grandma's house and dad's two brothers' houses (and families) and mom and tried unsuccessfully to get a hold of him there.

So, mom told me to try the house again to see if dad was there now.  I verified the phone number with her and dialled.  This was the conversation that occurred:

Some woman answering the phone: Hello?  (Note: I did not think it was surprising to hear a woman's voice since there are so many relatives close by that are hanging around at any given moment, and it would be just like dad to have someone else answer.)

Me (without thinking, see above parentetical statement): Have you found dad yet?

Some woman: Um, my father has been gone for 8 years.

Me thinking: Oh crap.
Me speaking: Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry, I must have the wrong number!

Some woman: Yeah, it sounds like it.

Awkwardness, followed by some kind of, "well, bye then" followed by a quick hang up.

Me: Mom!  What the freak! You said that was the right number. [rattles back number I dialed]

Mom:  Oh, no, that should have been a 4, not a 5.  Let me try it.... (She was able to get a hold of dad.)

The bright side is that at least the woman hadn't lost her father 8 days ago.  That would have been just plain mean.  Lesson learned for me is that if I don't recognize a voice on the phone, don't just plow ahead and ask my question anyway.

Subject change: I saw this and I guess there is hope for me after all.

*Mom, dad and a couple siblings have a family cell phone plan and dad was in the shop one day helping someone get a new phone or something.  The cell phone guy told dad that from now on he has to use his cell phone at least one minute a month because he's the primary name on the account.  Dad had not been using his cell phone at least ONE MINUTE a month!

one man's trash.... is still trash sometimes

My parents finished moving out of their old house this week - the house I grew up in.  It was a little sad because we all love that house so much.  There's nothing to really hold us to Fremont anymore, and I whenever I went up there, I usually didn't even go anywhere except maybe to Arby's, but it still will be a change for everyone.

(Aside: I like their new house, most especially because it has an upstairs.  One of those weird quirks about me is that for some reason I don't really like sleeping on the ground floor (or basement).  I guess I'm an elf and not a hobbit.)

To help my parents, Lizzy, Big Brother and I went home.  Thursday, the movers came and packed everything up and hauled it away and we cleaned the whole house.

Part of the cleaning process was hauling a bunch of junk out to the curb for garbage collection.  And I mean a bunch.  And it was nice and cold - 15 degrees and windy - so it was the perfect day for that. My mom really wanted to give the garbage man a tip and she was paranoid that she'd miss him, so we took shifts watching out the window for the garbage truck.

We saw some interesting things while we were waiting.  Before that day, I never realized how much attraction a huge pile of garbage can hold for some people.  It was amazing how many people stopped and looked through it.  And how much people actually took away.  We had four grotty mattresses (two that had belonged to my grandparents when they were first married) and two rusty old bicycles that were hauled away.  Not to mention countless other junk.  Our across the street neighbor came over twice in his cammo pants to look through stuff.  Once he had his whole head in a garbage bag looking through stuff.  The thing is, some of the trash out there was really trash - food from the refrigerator, the used vacuum bag, broken things, etc.   I just wonder if any of that got hauled away.

And of course, we all watched the goings on from our windows.  Whoever was on watch would call the other siblings over and we would secretly cheer on the scavengers and encourage them to take things.  I believe the movers thought we were crazy, but we enjoyed it.

I was able to snap a few pictures for your enjoyment as well.  Sorry about the tree in the way.  And a the window screen in a few of them.

 

i got the black lung pop. *cough*

I have some good news or bad news for you, depending on how you feel about me.  It turns out that I am mortal after all.  Remember how much I make fun of some of you for getting sick all the time?  It turns out karma is a cuss* and I finally got what was coming to me.

The timeline:
Sunday November 29: I had a bit of a tickle in my throat and I was really tired.
Monday: I woke up with a dreadful sore throat.  I called into work sick. (Only the 2nd time in my life I've done that.)  I went to the doctor and I didn't have strep, so I went home and tried to sleep it off.
Tuesday: I didn't have a fever, so I went to work even though my throat was still a bit sore and I was really tired. I left about an hour early and went home to take a nap.
Wednesday: I was feeling better and I went to work no problems.
Thursday: The coughing began.
Friday: I just couldn't stop coughing.  I went to work, but I think everyone was a little annoyed by my constant coughing.  At one point I was a little afraid I was going to throw up I was coughing so hard. So I went to the bathroom.  By now there were tears streaming down my face from the coughing.  There was a lady in the bathroom looking at me like I was insane - like I was a crazy girl coming into the bathroom to cry after a breakup or something.  I left work early.
Saturday:  I didn't sleep very well because of the cough.  When I woke up, I my voice was gone. I had to turn down an invitation for a cold weather run with the Werewolf. (I actually do love cold weather running.) (Any running, really.) I had to give my symphony tickets away to Rocket Boy. I had to turn down an invitation from Guy Montag to a chili cook-off.  I did still go to dinner for the Constant Gardener's send off (he's getting married on Friday), but it was hard because no one could hear me when I talked to them.
Sunday: Voice still mostly gone, but getting better. The Werewolf and Legolas took full advantage by trying to make me mad on purpose, knowing I couldn't retaliate.
Monday: After a better night's sleep, I'm feeling better. I went to work and I didn't have any coughing fits.  On the drive home, I did (tears and all), but I made it home safely.  Plus, I could talk again.
Today:  Still a bit of a tickle in the back of my throat, but it seems like things have mostly worked themselves out.

I'm sorry to people who get sick like that every year. Or even more than once a year.  It's an awful way to go through life. I'll try to be more sympathetic in the future.

ps.  One of the funny things about losing my voice was seeing how many people would whisper to me when we were talking.  It's okay friend - just because I can't talk doesn't mean you can't.

*Go see Fantastic Mr. Fox. You'll thank me later.

the joy of painting, with bob ross

As you may or may not by aware, my parents are in the process of moving to Pittsburgh.  They're retired now and don't have anything to hold them in our old home town.  My dad's mother and two brothers (and families) live there, so it seemed like a good choice. (Thank heaven they aren't one of those couples who feels the need to retire to Utah.)

Well, they sold the house I grew up in.  (Mom told me to pray and also told me to stop swearing so my prayers would be effective, but I didn't stop and the first people who looked at the house bought it. Hmmm....)  They bought a new house about five minutes' drive from grandma and the uncles.  So this weekend, the lot fell to my sister, Jane, and I to paint.  (Luckily, we also had loads of help from various aunts, uncles and cousins.)

Mom wanted us to paint the ceiling.  So we did.  About five minutes into the job, I realized that I should probably tape a section of the ceiling that I didn't want to paint.  Unfortunately, I forgot that I just painted an area of ceiling right by where I was taping and I accidentally ran my whole head across that area.  Brilliant, I know.  The result was this:

Yeah, Cruella DeVil if I ever saw it.  The pictures don't really do justice to how much paint was in my hair. Everyone was joking all day long that I'd turned into an old lady.  That night I washed my hair three times and then spent about half an hour just picking paint out of my hair.  Then my mom spent about half an hour picking paint out of my hair.  And today (five days later) I'm still finding little flecks of white in my hair that need picking out.  Oh dear.

In other painting news, I just want to post this picture of my friend Josh. He always has the best Halloween costumes.  I heart you, you bloody bastard, and I always will.