15 seconds of fame

After an absolutely miserable end to the week, I tried to drown my sorrows the best way I know how... through the art of dance. On a chance encounter at Old Navy on Friday, I caught a glimpse of a flyer that mentioned the words "dance", "filming", and "Ellen Degeneres". Ignoring the flyer, I went home and providentially caught the end of Ellen's show, which informed me that she would be sending her camera crews to 3 Old Navy locations nationwide to film people dancing. The chosen ones will appear on tv throughout next week's shows and will be entered for some sort of grand prize. While the prize obviously wasn't even significant enough for me to recall, the idea of joining with potentially thousands of other Chicagoans for a dance party was unbelievable. Kim loaned me her boyfriend, Andrew, to come along for the adventure. 

Unsure of what to expect, we entered Old Navy without a game plan and decided to scope the scene in order to decide if we would dance for Ellen and our shot at glory. The front of the store showed little signs of the dance party that was supposedly occurring in these very walls. However, once we made it past the large display of yoga/fitness wear, we were delighted to find a hot scene, with a DJ in front of the sale racks. To our suprise, we did not see the middle-aged Ellen fans we had assumed would be on the dance floor. Instead, we walked in on a choreographed routine by a six person dance crew, including, but not limited to, coordinating attire and their own music selection. They were hella good and danced multiple times. Here's one of the scaled down routines, with only 3 of them actually dancing...

In between their encore performances, we saw a few others. Eventually, the middle-aged women I had initially hoped to see came by and dropped it like it was hot. Then, this guy came in with his publicity stunt superhero costume, shaking it like a polaroid picture and, for some reason, grabbing his crotch like MJ was his role model. (The crotch-grabbing did not make it into this footage...not because I was censoring, but because he did it after I stopped)

After this, Andrew and I did a quick warm-up and danced a power routine that brought the entire store to its feet in applause. Unfortunately, since we were dancing, there is no video footage of this epic performance. Keep your fingers crossed that Ellen decides to show us and that you'll be able to view it ;)

Inaugural Roast

In celebration of the Inauguration of our 44th President, I decided to have my own less-impressive inauguration. Tonight, for the first time ever, I roasted something for dinner. Not just something, like a carrot, no, I went all out. I roasted a chicken. A whole one. This 3 pound Amish country fowl helped us usher in a new era of hope and responsibility with the mouth-watering fragrance of freedom.

A Walk in the Park

Sorry to steal the title, Kim. But today Jeff and I decided to go for a nice walk through the park. The winter wonderland that has engulfed Chicago, though causing the frustration of the prior two posts, also provides some beauty. Here are some pictures from our trip today...

You may not be able to tell, but we are standing on a frozen lake. The only thing keeping us from a painful and freezing death is a questionably thick layer of ice. Amazing.

Here's me standing on the water again, like Jesus, in front of the Museum of Science and Industry.

Meanwhile, down by Lake Michigan, the water freezes on the rocks, giving us these fun faux-icebergs to look at.

On a side note, the day was not without its usual blunders and awkward moments on my end. Before setting out on this icy adventure, Jeff prepared hot tea in travel mugs for both us. As we walked, I sipped the tea, noticing that it was trickling out slowly. Assuming that the tea bag was blocking smooth movement of the tea to my mouth, I continued to drink and soon found myself tipping the mug nearly upside down in order to drink. Again, assuming that I had finished rather quickly, I continued to walk. At one point, Jeff offered to hold my mug and commented, "This is still heavy. Have you even been drinking any tea?" I said yes and explained the tea bag blockage, but held fast to my stance that my mug was almost empty. Jeff then looked at the mug and said, "Is it even open?" Not wanting to look foolish, I insisted that it was. Jeff then instructed me to turn the cap counter-clockwise... revealing a much larger mouth opening for the mug. Still insisting that I had been drinking all along, and partially wanting to salvage what remained of my dignity, I took a big swig of the tea. Since the mug had in fact been closed the entire time, I wasn't prepared for the amount of tea that would come out of the opening.  I immediately spewed all of the tea back out onto the snow in an Exorcist-projectile-vomiting motion, to which Jeff responded dryly, "You are so attractive right now." So much for dignity and common sense.

Righteous indignation

I usually consider myself to be a mild-mannered person (Whether or not this is true is completely irrelevant for this post). But I've noticed that certain issues cause my blood to boil, developing within me a righteous indignation that rivals that of Jesus in the temple. Okay, well, maybe not the righteous part, more the indignation... and by indignation, I mean anger... no, rage. Pure unadulterated rage. This rage sets me off in some sort of Hulk-like transformation in which I set aside my Christian niceties and vow to set things right at any cost. Justice blinds me from appropriateness. This year, my righteous indignation has unfurled most fiercely and consistently at my landlords, Mac Property management.

Momentarily setting aside the lost rent checks and 2-month long broken door buzzer that prevented the delivery of my mail, this past week has been a stellar presentation of Mac's incompetence. As some of you may know, Chicago has been plagued by an arctic thunder of such epic proportions that I have not even imagined since I got that tract from the evangelist in Orlando warning me of the End of Days. Of course, during these days of temperatures between -20 and -40, Mac decided that we would not need much heat in our apartments or proper insulation. No, they felt that they could keep the boiler at the same setting they would have it on for 50 degree weather.

Rather than dragging out the drama that ensued, I will give a few snippets of what occurred: 

Me: 3 phone calls over a 6 hour period that resulted in nothing more than a headache, a heated argument, and an unheated apartment; a night of shivering "sleep" with 3 blankets, fleece socks, and a scarf on; a morning of 3 more phone calls and 3 more burned bridges at Mac apartments... oops

Maintenance guy: 1 returned phone call; 1 phantom visit in which he claimed he checked the boiler, but did not come check the temperature in my apartment because it was negative degrees outside (That's right, he did not come fix my heat and tried to inform me that it was because it was COLD outside... as if I didn't know that already, as if my frozen tundra of an apartment did not make that evident); 5 different ways of asking, "Are your windows open?" to attempt to explain why my apartment was cold

Management: 2 returned voicemails in which they shrugged off responsibility for the lack of heat by claiming that I must have unknowingly left the windows open (implying that a college education did not grant me or my 2 roommates the ability to tell whether or not a window is open)

Twenty-four hours after my initial report of the heat issue, my apartment is finally warm. It feels good to win one once in a while.

Building a Snowperson, Take 1

As part of my resolutions, I set the personal goal of building a large snowperson (I said snowman at the time, but have been told that the term was not gender inclusive and could be taken offensively). Last Sunday night, I made my first attempt at achieving this goal. Attempt is the key word here...

Growing up, I had always been told that the Eskimos had something like 30 different Eskimoan words that meant snow. I never understood why this would happen or why this was worth mentioning in so many different courses spanning from my time at Crown Point Elementary up to my time at Rollins (seriously, why were people always using the Eskimo language to argue philosophical ideas?). The point of all this is to say, that apparently not all snows work for building snow people. While the light, fluffy snow that fell on Sunday looked pretty and broke my fall when my "sweet" boyfriend pushed me into a plowed mound, it didn't really work for my purposes. It stubbornly refused to stick together and insisted that it would play no part in our construction attempts. So we resorted to non-traditional methods to construct the perfect snow person. For example,

Jeff employed the doggie-paddle method to move the snow into a mound that could possibly be shaped into a base. Once we had a mound, which I suggested we leave as is and call Mt. Everest (making us lazy or geniuses??), we instead attempted to construct a person. The light and fluffy snow had other plans and never became sturdy enough to support a body. Luckily, in Jeff's doggie-paddle efforts, he uncovered a large chunk of lightly-packed snow that we rested on the mound to give the impression of a snow-lady. Although you cannot see it in the picture, our snow lady represents a blending of different mediums, as demonstrated by her snow constructed body matched with a her one twig and one icicle arm.

Rite of Passage

Today I feel as though I was initiated into the exclusive group identified as disgruntled Midwesterners. Although I have lived in Chicago for over a year now, I have not fully experienced the ups and downs of the Midwest experience... that is, until this morning. Yesterday, as the snow fell in steady sheets all day long, I braced myself for what I'm sure will become a Sunday morning ritual of digging my car out of the snow.* Having the gift of prophecy (as Erin Neikirk Bellomy will agree), I purchased a mini-shovel over Thanksgiving break. Whereas earlier my little green shovel was cute and somewhat exciting to hold, this morning it proved to be neither of those things.

At 10AM, I went out to my car to assess the damage and come up with a game plan. Jeff had given me a few pointers that I kept in mind. I will share them with you now:

1) Clear the car first, making sure to gracefully skim the surface of the car and not scratch the paint with the shovel (a tip Jeff had learned the hard way).

2) Pull the wiper blades from the windshield in order to make sure they aren't frozen in place.

3) Dig a path out of the parking space, focusing on the front tires. If it doesn't work, it might be possible to slowly drive back and forth and eventually create an opening.

Luckily, I hadn't driven my car all week and the constant plowing had built a nice-sized pile of snow (and by pile, I mean wall) that had sealed my car in a neatly packed cocoon of a parking space. So I got to work, blundering with my mini-shovel in my magenta-gloved hands, clearing the snow from the roof of my car. As I grazed the snow, searching for the roof of my car, I realized that I was barely skimming the surface. Apparently a week's worth of snowy days resulted in about 8 inches of snow piled up on the roof of my car. The 8 inch snow shield on the roof of my car made me grossly overestimate the amount of snow that would be stuck to the side of my car, causing tip #1 to be utterly misused. Oops. Only the spring will tell what damage has been done to the side of my car.

Once the car was mostly cleared, I dug mini-strokes towards my windshield wipers. To my dismay, one of my shovel thrusts resulted in the flinging of two thin black items into the air. Freaking out at the loss of my wiper blades, I picked up the items from the ground to discover they were not wiper blades at all. Although black and blade-shaped, more digging revealed wipers fully intact. At this point in time, I am still unsure if the mysterious items belong to my car or are just gifts that some benevolent stranger placed on my car prior to the snowfall to serve as a pleasant surprise at a later date.... or something like that. 

At this point, I had no choice but to begin attacking the snow plow mound that encased my car. I was already tired and had broken into a sweat. This was the most unfortunate reality of digging out a car in cold weather. The coats and what not that keep you dry and warm cannot simultaneously protect you from the moisture created by your own body. So you must choose, extreme heat and potential body odor all day, or frost-bitten appendages and the permanent loss of feeling in your toes. The actual digging of the mound proved to be incredibly difficult and frustrating. So after clearing a small path that I hoped my front tires would align with, I decided to make an attempt, assuming that my small clearing would give the car enough momentum to jump the snow mound that I had given up on. I revved the engine and gunned it toward the mound. Initially the snow put up a strong fight, keeping my car in place, but after one reverse move and a few choice words, the wall crumbled in the face of the Cardolla. And with the strange smell of something burning, I pulled out of the space and immediately learned the final tip of digging one's car out of a space. Apparently, the hard work of digging a car out of a space gives people the ability to mark about 5 ft on a public street as personal territory, like so...

 

* For those of you who are wondering why I would even bother digging my car out from the frozen tundra when I live a mere five blocks away from my church, it is because I pick up a family who lives further away and needs assistance. Believe me, if I could throw them all on my back and piggyback them to church and avoid this mess I would.

Best of both worlds...

I found this today when I was avoiding productivity and the sheets of snow outside. So step aside Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana, this truly IS the best of both worlds!

Video Recaps | Full Episodes | Webisodes

2009

As some of you may have noticed, I am not so good at updating this blog. However, with the new year and the addition of more friends into the world of blogging (i.e. Ann), I have decided to revisit this for the fourth time and hope that it will be more of a charm than the third. 

Inspired by the Resolutions of Jonathan Edwards, a godly man with godly desires for his life's purpose, I am constructing my own set of 70 resolutions. While his resolutions focused on developing a more Christ-like mindset, I regret to inform you that mine will read more like the cheesy lists that serve as the backdrop for the NBC sitcom My Name is Earl or the failed Jack Nicholson movie The Bucket List, which I watched over break. This list is a work in progress and I welcome any suggestions that you may have. Also, I am not above adding things to the list that I have already done and then immediately crossing them off in order to gain a fleeting sense of accomplishment.

So here's a nibble of the list to whet your appetite:

The Resolutions of Emy

Being sensible that I am unable to do anything without God's help, I do humbly entreat Him by His grace to enable me to keep these resolutions, so far as they are agreeable to His will, for Christ's sake.

1. Resolved, that I will update this blog at least once a week in order to keep track of my personal growth and development as a human being.

2. Resolved, that I will read through all 70 of Edwards' resolutions that serve as my inspiration, in order that I may realize how offensive and inappropriate my mockery of it may be understood to be.

3. Resolved, that I will make a snowman that dwarfs the measly 8-inch tall snowmen that I managed to build during my first year in a snowy climate.

4. Resolved, that I will use the crockpot that I purchased as a result of Black Friday sales.

5. Resolved, that I will go on at least one random excursion a month.

6. Resolved, that I will complete all of my classes this quarter, instead of taking incompletes.

7. Resolved, that I will recover the lost art of handwritten letters and cards, as suggested by a newscaster on CBS News Sunday Morning this morning.

And so on... I will keep you updated.