Chivalry Is Not Dead. Just Very, Very Old

While at work yesterday, I was put out on the floor for the last hour of my shift (I'm a cashier). Friday. Early evening. Toy department. Christmas season. You get the idea. It was a mad house. As I was struggling to find where some go-backs belonged, an OLD man came up to me and asked me if I worked there. The following conversation ensued:

me: Why yes, I do. What can I help you with?

Old Man(holding up the tel-tale blue paper gift registry): I'm looking for this flatware. It says it's on aisle D22. Where can I find that?

me: It's this way. I'll show you.

We start shuffling across the whole length of the store. Since he was so old, he walked slower than a snail. But I knew I'd have to show him exactly where it was rather than tell him.

OM: So this must be the part of the store where the more popular items are at.

me: No, this is just the toy department. The flatware you're looking for is in the kitchen department.

OM: Oh. How many items do you think are in this store?

me: Too many.

OM: Probably a few million.

My walkie-talkie started squawking just then.

OM(eyeballing the walkie-talkie that is clipped to my pocket): Is that what people call a 'cell phone'?

me: No. This is a walkie-talkie.

OM: Oh. So you can communicate with people just in the store?

me: Exactly.

OM: That's nice that it's conveniently clipped to your person.

At this point I was trying to restrain a giggle.

me: Well, here's the aisle we want. Now let me help you find the set they registered for.

I looked for the set, found it, and handed it to the gentleman.

me: When you take this up to the front (pointing toward the registers), give them these papers and they'll update the registry for you.

OM: Oh yes. I saw a couple dozen registers when I came into the store.

me: Yeah. There are a lot.

OM: Could you show me the main highway to get to the registers?

I led him to the main aisle and pointed him in the right direction.

OM: Thank you for helping me out. It was nice to receive such service. This is the highway to the front?

me: Yep. It's a busy thoroughfare, so be safe.

OM: It's what they call 'Main Street'?

me (getting maybe a tiny bit tired of the same joke): Yep. You have a good day, sir.

OM: Thank you again for helping me.

And then he tipped his hat to me! It made me wish that men still did that sort of thing.

A Letter, Of Sorts

Dear Immune System,

I know we didn't get along very well last winter. In fact, there were times I thought you had left me altogether. But over the last few months you haven't let me down. There have been times I thought you were failing me, but then you'd swoop in a save me from a miserable sickness. I really appreciate that.

Let's keep working together to keep things on the up and up this season.

Thanks again, and much love,

Emily

Intrigued?

Scoot.

Night Photography, Take II

Awhile ago, I did some experimenting with night photography. It was quite fun, and I wanted to do it again. Last night, there just so happened to be a meteor shower. Our neighbors invited us to go star-gazing with them in the middle of the night. So I saw a good opportunity to try it out again.

This time it was a new moon as opposed to the full moon, and that made for some pretty spectacular sky shots. I didn't get any pictures of shooting stars (in fact, I probably only saw a few during the whole experience; one was absolutely spectacular, so it made it worth it), but I had fun nonetheless.

This last shot (of Orion) is pretty great. You may want to click on it for a better view. Also, please note that the reason the stars are little lines instead of points, is because the shutter was open for 30 seconds, and the lines represent the amount of movement the stars made in the sky during that time. Kind of crazy they move that fast, huh? I would love, love, love to get a remote release button so I can use my bulb setting and get one of those really cool pictures where the stars are tracking across the sky. Someday.

Other things to note: It was about 20 degrees outside last night. Maybe colder since we were away from town. It was so cold. Despite all the layers I wore, I froze and may now be coming down with a cold because of it. As soon as we got home, I turned on my electric blanket (oh, my glorious electric blanket; it is my saving grace during winter), and didn't fully warm up for a few hours still. Not to mention, after getting in bed, I noticed my cold skin was actually sucking the warmth out of my once warm mattress and making my bed cold.

What To Do, What To Do

I just bought some black leggings. I like them and want to wear them. Only trouble is, I don't know what to wear with them. I tried putting a skirt I already own over them, but the skirt hit right below the knee and was ugly and awkward. I'm not one for short skirts (I like my skirts to stay pretty close to the knee). And I don't like the idea of leggings as a replacement for pants. That's just tacky. Is there any hope for me? If not, be honest. I don't want to look like a dork. And if I have to take them back, I have to take them back.

What do you think? How long is too long with leggings?

Imogen Heap

Last night Jake and I went to an Imogen Heap concert. It was amazing. I'm not even kidding. Imogen has the voice of an angel (and a pretty impressive range, I might add). And it was pretty spectacular to see her create large portions of the songs right on stage. And she used a key-tar, which guarantees some pretty fabulous stuff.

Our tickets said "7:00" on them, so we assumed the show started at 7:00. We also assumed it would be in a concert hall (I was envisioning the concerts I had been to in Seattle), you know, with seats. So we showed up a little after 6:00 to get some seats blah blah blah. Well, turns out the doors opened at 7:00, the show started at 8:00, and there were no seats. It was in a dumpy club. Neither of us paid any attention to the weather so we were not prepared for the freezing cold, rainy weather (luckily, though, Jake had just bought a peacoat on our way up to SL, so he at least had that). We stood outside in said weather for an hour (and yes, I was wearing mesh peep-toe shoes; thank you for asking). And we were sandwiched between a drunk guy (he apparently had Grey Goose and Sprite in his Big Gulp mug) and a girl who had "been to sooo many concerts, and is sooooo well-versed in 'quirky' music(aka Mika; love him, but his music is pretty mainstream, chick) because she listens to last.fm", and a guy who would not. shut. up. about his beatnik poetry. Ugh. We finally made it inside, found a great spot, and then stood there for an hour, waiting for the sow to start. Needless to say, my dogs were barking at the end of the night.

But.

Imogen was magical. Seriously. So magical. This is the best picture I could get. But before you judge me, it was taken with my phone b/c they would not allow my DSLR in the venue. Lame. So my .000000001 megapixel camera worked its hardest, and this is what I got (it also embarrassed me because this particular song was rather quiet, and my phone always makes this ridiculous fake shutter sound, no matter what the phone's volume is set at):

If you sit back, squint your eyes, and cock your head to the left approximately 13 degrees, you can almost make out Imogen's vague silhouette.

I think I actually teared up during her first song, "First Train Home". Mainly because I cry at the drop of a hat these days (I don't get it. I cry at commercials, and I just about burst into tears the other day while watching Oprah--I know. Don't judge--because she brought out these "plus size" models who were actually quite thin. I couldn't get over the fact they were plus size), but also because the song feels a little like my anthem these days. Let me explain:

As you may or may not know, music really speaks to me. And this album was no exception. I was listening to "First Train Home" one day on my way to work. There is a line in the song that goes like this:

"I want to Play-doh waveforms in the hideaway
I want to get on with getting on with things.
I want to run in fields, play in the kitchen, and love someone.
No, I can't do any of that here, can I?

First train home, I've got to get on it"

Now, whereas many of those lyrics sound like utter nonsense, the part that says "I want to get on with getting on with things", and the list of things she wants to do (not really on my list, but I have my own), followed by "No, I can't do any of that here, can I?" kind hit a nerve. And I started to (surprise) cry. (btw, I also cried while listening to another song from that album, "Half Life", because I think everyone has felt this way at some point in their life. Man! I am a cry baby!)

See, it dawned on me in that moment that one of the many reasons I hate Utah, is because it represents stagnancy in my mind. When I lived in Utah before, I felt trapped in a relationship I didn't want to be in. And after graduating, I couldn't find a job here and had to leave in order to move on in life. And now, even though I came here to get married, and in my opinion of my life, that was progression, since then I have actually digressed in many areas of my life. I mean, I'm working in retail, making less than half of what I was earning in my "real" jobs I had previously (including the job I had when we first got married). I'm living the student lifestyle I gladly gave up years ago. And I think we all know by now I really, really want a baby, but that will not happen as long as we are here.

So, yes, Imogen, I want to get on with getting on with things! And, no I can't do any of what I've mentioned above here, can I? (bawl, bawl) And hearing her angelic voice sing those lyrics to me last night made me feel all warm and squishy inside. And some of that warm and squishy puddled in my eyes.

I had such a marvelous time, and it was well- worth the five hours of standing on concrete, cold weather waiting, and being surrounded by a bunch drunk idiots. Immi, I love you.

We're Horrible, Horrible People

I'm really hoping my math is off, but I don't think it is, unfortunately.

For awhile, our bathtub faucet was leaking. And I guess it caused some problems downstairs, so our landlord came and fixed it, and replaced our old hardware with some new hardware. Well, the new hardware is a lot like this (well, the handles, anyway):

A couple days after the installation, the cold water handle wouldn't turn all the way back to its off position. So we called the landlord and he came and fixed it.

A few weeks after that, it started doing that again. And since Jake and I are not really handy when it comes to things like fixing a leaky faucet, we didn't fix it (1. we don't know how, and 2. when I looked it up online, I realized we don't have all the tools we would need in order to actually fix it). Well, that was a month ago. It drives us both crazy to constantly hear water running, but we've gotten somewhat used to it (side note: whenever we have company, they always ask, "Do you have water running somewhere?").

Well, today I got a bit curious. How much water is going down the drain? I got out a pitcher and stopwatch. I am horrified to report it only took a little less than one minute and forty-five seconds to fill a 2-quart pitcher. So according to my math, we wasted:

* 1 gallon/3.5 minutes
* 17 gallons/hour
* 411 gallons/day
* 12,342 gallons since the faucet started leaking...a month ago.

I'm going to go bury my head in the sand. Like I said, we're horrible, horrible people. Please don't send us hate mail.

Looks like it's time to learn how to fix a leaky faucet.