great grandparents

So, I don't know about keeping up this blog. Maybe everyone should just go to www.livejournal.com/users/alisa_beth because that would be easier for me. But, here's what I just posted over there.

Some people have the kind of grandparents who are their favorite people in the whole, wide world. You know the kind I'm talking about: the ones who would get college essays written about them (when the question is Who has been the most influential person in your life?) the ones who quietly listen and are your biggest supporters, the grandmas who bake cookies or some other special treat they know you like, the grandpas who help you with your science projects and take you somewhere special -- perhaps fishing (if you consider that special). I don't have those kind of grandparents and maybe that's why I'm kind of obsessed with grandparents and the idea of grandparents.

I only have grandmas, neither of whom are called the traditional "Grandma" (which has aggrevated me forever!). Mums, my mom's mom, was too young to be a grandma when my mom made her one (my mom was 24, my grandma was 49), so she insisted on being called Mums. Sigh. My dad's mom was already Granny by the time his children came along (Alias and I are the youngest grandchildren on the Mix side, and we're the oldest ones on the Blackwell side, which has always been kind of interesting). Sigh. So, Granny and Mums was all I had. Based on all the proof I gathered while I was a child, I have concluded that neither grandmother liked me very much. My proof is as follows: Mums always gave me a nightgown for Christmas (not fun...ever), Granny never even sent me a birthday card, Mums saved all the postcards and letters I wrote her while I was in England and gave them back to me upon my return (this might not sound strange to you, but she keeps an album of all the picutres and letters of her grandchildren on proud display for all her visitors and other family members...but mine weren't good enough for the album!!), Granny once sent back a letter I had written her when I was in elementary school because I had addressed it incorrectly (I had addressed it to Granny Mix instead of Mrs. Catherine B. Mix), Granny also never gave me a music box (a tradition she had started with all her other granddaughters) until one of my cousins basically commanded that she do so. As a kid, the fact that your grandmothers don't like you can be particularly troubling. But, I'm resilient, thank goodness, and have been able to move on with my life. I didn't really begin this post tonight to drudge up past hurt inflicted by my mean, cold hearted grandmothers, but I wanted to talk about my "grandparents" (who I've mentioned before on my blog, but I have a new audience now, and after all, it is my space on the www, so I can write about whatever I choose).

Tonight, Don called me up and asked me if I wanted to meet Ginnie and him for dinner at Applebee's. Of course I did. On my way to Applebee's I was thinking about how unbelievably blessed I have been to have Don and Ginnie as my sort-of-grandparents. They don't have any grandchildren of their own, which is a darn shame because they're the kind of people who should have twenty! Don was the subject of a major essay I wrote which won me a prize, not only do they listen to me all the time, but they've been my biggest supporters (through science fairs, orchestra concerts, college visits). Ginnie doesn't often make me cookies, but she saves the peanutbutter and cool whip containers to make me ranch flavored oyster crackers (because I love them so much). Don helped me with my 6th grade science project and took me down to the Oceanographic Harbor Institute (or something like that) one Saturday ... just him and me. They take me out for ice cream and bought me my first guitar. They're pretty much the greatest grandparents ever...but in all honesty, it doesn't completely take the sting away of being hated by my real grandmothers. Oh well.

It's 10:36. Tomorrow promises breakfast at Chick-Fil-A with the CIA, Angel Tree Shopping, FPSers uniting to solve the problem of AIDS orphans without presents for Christmas, and perhaps something fun afterwards with two of my BFFL's. I wish my cats would get along. Some days they sleep right next to each other. Most days they don't. I hate the worst nightmare last night that Chloe bit off Saffie's ear. I woke up this morning, found Saffie sleeping soundly by my side, and checked her ears to make sure they were intact.

"Jesus loved the outcasts, he loved the people the world loved to hate. As long as there's a heaven, there'll be a failure to excommunicate..."

freezing in Palm Bay

So my fingers are freezing and I'm wearing a sweatshirt. I decided to check out www.weather.com because I thought CERTAINLY we're in the 50's. Yeah right! It's 68 degrees right now.

Last night I tried to begin reading Recruited, the Alias prequel. A student of mine let me borrow it because we share a HUGE obsession with the show. And this book, much to my dismay, is a piece of crap. Here is the excerpt from page 6 that made me throw the book across the room:

"Good girl," Francie said approvingly. "Now, are you going in your hula skirt or that flowered sarong?"
"I don't know, the sarong, I guess."
"Excellent. So can I borrow your hula skirt to wear over my bikini? Please?" Francie asked, raising a hopeful eyebrow.
"Hey, I like the sound of that," Baxter observed, turning back around.
"Oh!" Francie exclaimed, pointing at Baxter. "And then we can all three wear matching leis! Won't that be cool?"

I didn't get past page 6. J.J., how come you didn't ask me to write the "original prequel novel based on the hit tv series..."? I would have done so much better.

I will leave you with a fact that might gross some of you out. I'm sorry. Chloe and Saffie have two litter boxes. One is private, with a lid. The other is just a litter pan. WELL, my little kitties are brilliant. They consistently reserve their number 2's for the covered, lidded box. Number 1's happen in the open pan. That just makes me happy and so I thought I'd share.

On the second day of December...

The following is two posts in one. The first is the post that was eaten yesterday and then recreated on livejournal. The second is today's.

First Post

I'm simply frustrated because the computer just ate a post. Where do all the eaten posts go, I wonder? Here are my attempts to recreate my brilliance that was so rudely eaten by this stupid computer.

Currently, Courtney Thorne-Smith is the visage-du-jour on Special K (which, FYI: it's on special at Publix for buy one, get one free...I'm such a sucker for buy one, get one free gimmicks). The question that pops into my mind when I see Courtney sitting in her jeans and white, crisp button-down Oxford is, "How did you go from ultra-chic Melrose Place beautiful-sweet-girl-next-door and quirky-cool Ally McBeal beautiful-lawyer-who-got-the-man-of-Ally's-dreams to washed-up wife of Jim Belushi on My Wife and Kids and the spokesperson for Special K?" I wonder. Her signature is even on the box of Special K. Neat-o. Not that I can boast a full, comprehensive knowledge of Melrose Place seeing as though I could barely keep abreast of 90210 from my friends, Heather and Heidi, at the bus stop each Friday morning (you see, my mom didn't allow me to watch garbage like that), but I do know enough through reruns on the Soap channel to tell you that Allison (Courney's character) so should have ended up with nice-boy Billy, her platonic boyfriend/roomie. But does the nice girl win? Of course not. While Billy's out getting married to some idiot rich, spoiled girl, Allison's getting burned alive in an outrageous apartment building fire which stole her sight from her but spared her life (that goodness for small favors). Poor, poor Allison. All this talk/write has gotten me thinking about the topic of how nice girls don't win. Sure, I could give you Felicity Elizabeth Porter, nice girl who finished triumphantly...but allow me to explain a few things first. She was supposed to be a homely-looking nerd who was hopelessly in love with two boys. However, try as they might to dress her in baggy, ugly-colored sweaters, she did not look homely. Also, just because she was pre-med did not mean that she was a socially-inept nerd. Yeah right! Come on, J.J., you could have called me to play her part! I have her line, "It's complicated," down-pat. (I get a sneaky suspicion that none of my readers will have any idea what I'm talking about because I'm fairly certain none of you like Felicity, which is a darn shame). Anyhow, all I'm trying to say is this: If Felicity was REAL, she wouldn't have landed Ben nor Noel. Nice girls' dreams just don't come true [sorry, Lauren, I'm still routing for you though...but speaking from personal experience, boys, more often than not, check no!...now come on, that was funny...especially if you're privy to the inside story about me writing a boy by the name of Jon a letter...:-) ].

What originally prompted this post, however, was Courtney on a box of cereal. I got to thinking: if ever I were to become rich, famous, and highly sought after to be the spokesperson for a wide variety of things...which would I choose? Even though I have a double name, I'm no Sarah Jessica Parker, so I think that doing spots for the Gap is pretty much out. While I sport their favorite t's and boot cut jeans, I'm just not hip enough for them. I'm way too old for American Eagle and refuse to wear "graphic t's" that say Get Lei'd. Clothing is out. Since you can't find saddle shoes, aside from golf shoes, it's safe to say that peddling shoes is also out. (Also, people now a days just don't appreciate saddle shoes.) That leaves food and post-it notes. I wouldn't mind lending my face to help sell: Golden Graham Sticks (in chocolate or cinnamon), Craisins (I'm fond of saying, "Are you crazy for craisins?"), or post-it notes.

SECOND POST

Today I skipped school (but the principal knew). I went to an inservice of sorts and here's what happened:

1. We got out 1.5 hrs. early.
2. I chatted with a girl at my table who ended up being Andrew Peterson's younger sister's college roommate.
3. A girl who I worked with at Barnes and Noble, then who I used to see ALL the time at the Sun Shoppe (because that's where she worked after B&N), who is now teaching 8th grade sat next to me.
4. We all got 6 different cookies, and had to eat them, in order to complete an activity. Delicious fun.
5. I followed the yellow footprints taped all over the school board building's floors to the Book Fair (not because I had any interest in going to the book fair, but because I wanted to follow the yellow feet).

The cool part was that the inservice began at noon. So, I slept until 7:38 (that's really sleeping in!) and did 2 loads of laundry. My overwhelming pile for a couple posts back is now half way done.

I don't really have anything else to say at the moment. I'm still under the weather. I wish that today had been Friday so that I don't have to go back to school tomorrow. But, life isn't fair some times.