Land of the Indians

I came across a glossary of Indian names and found some of them humorous. Here's a few:

• Chicago - "Place Of Wild Onions, Bad Smell", a river; city in Il., founded in 1833, site of Ft. Dearborn.
• Indianapolis - Chan-tun-oon-gi, "Make A Noise Place", Capital of Indiana.
• Mishawaka - "Country of Dead Trees", name of Shawnee princess, city east of S. Bend, Indiana.
• Tuxedo - "Place of beans"
• Wakaruso - "Hip Deep In Mud", town in Indiana.
• Winnebago - "People Of The Stinking Water", a tribe in WI.

I'm loving Chicago and Winnebago. There were also some very nice names:

• Idaho - "It Is Morning", our 43rd state.
• Passaic - "Peaceful Valley", a river in NJ.
• Ohio - "Beautiful River", an Iroquois word, river, and our 17th state.

My fave is Willamette ("Running Water", a river in Oregon). A few months ago I was joking with my brother that if I had an Indian name, it should be Running Water. Tallulah pretty much means the same thing, too. I don't know the tribe that Willamette originated from, but Tallulah seems to come from the Choctaws--so not really Miami. Oh, well.

Cooking with Emily

Last night I decided to cook. This is something I hardly ever do anymore. On occasion I make an omelet on a Saturday morning, but I'm pretty much in a microwave rut. I had found a recipe last month for sweet potato soup that looked tempting, so I saw it as an opportunity. The following is a step-by-step guide for you to follow if you feel like duplicating my experience.

Step one: Look at the recipe to figure out what you need to buy. This was pretty easy. I basically just needed to pick up the potatoes, celery, and apple. (We have plenty of apples at the house, but we didn't have the specified type, and I wanted to follow the recipe to the t.)

Step two: Start heating the sweet potatoes in the oven as you prepare the rest of the ingredients. This is where it became a little tricky. The potatoes weren't a problem, but upon looking at the recipe closer, I saw it asked for a stalk of celery. I originally thought a stalk was one singular branch or stick you pull off of the whole bunch, but when asking my mom for clarification, she said to use the whole bunch. At the time it didn't occur to me to seek further clarification online. So I dutifully cut up a ridiculous amount of celery, along with a Granny Smith apple and an onion.

After looking at a large saucepan exploding with celery, I rethought what I was doing. It didn't look right. And besides, the recipe I was making was called "Roasted Sweet Potato and Apple Soup," not "Roasted Sweet Potato and a %$@# Load of Celery." I decided to take out a sizable amount of celery before adding the partially baked sweet potatoes, but there was still about half to two-thirds of the original amount left.

Step three: Add the sweet potatoes and water, continuing to heat. Easiest step. Anytime I get to smell sweet potatoes and sneak some is good. And scooping their insides out of the skin was easier than I thought it would be.

Step four: Blend. I used my cheap handheld blender, which I bought in the spring for fruit smoothies. It blended well, except for spraying the hot liquid all over the counter, my shirt, my arms, and my face. After a while I developed a technique that proved less hazardous.

Step five: Taste. I took a bite. It tasted okay, but the celery was overpowering. The whole point was to have sweet potato soup, not celery soup with some sweet potatoes added in. The sweet potato coloring was there, as well as some of the texture, but I basically made "Celery Soup (w/ a little sweet potato)." Mom had a whole bowl before going to bed and said it was good.

Step six: Clean up and sit back. I gave the recipe another lookover and noticed it claimed to take one hour, start to finish. Nope. It was definitely over two hours. But next time, with the new knowledge of what a "stalk" is, I should do better.

Trick-or-Treating

My latest poll has surprised me. Five of us voted, and four claim to have trick-or-treated every year as a child. I thought there'd be at least one "never" and a few more "sometimes," because surely there'd be at least one of us whose parents thought Halloween was absolutely 100% evil. Apparently not.

I will identify myself as the one and only "sometimes." My trick-or-treating experiences include:

• My mom, brother, and I attempted to go door-to-door in our neighborhood one year, but either we were hours early or we had the wrong day, so we just never did it.
• After I attended a "harvest" party with some church friends, their parents took us to a few houses of people we knew.
• My mom took my brother and me to a nursing home that was all decked out. I think they gave away candy there, too.

She's What?

The Office, Season Four, "Goodbye, Toby":

Did anything in the above photo catch your eye? If you're a guy, you didn't see anything strange. If you're a gal, you noticed something. Angela Kinsey, who plays uptight accountant Angela Martin, is wearing a light blouse and a dark jumper. And wait! Her arms don't look right. Why would her arms be folded that way? It doesn't look natural... She must be pregnant. And she was for most of Season 4, but her pregnancy did not fit in with her character's life, so they used little tricks to hide it. On many occasions, she would hide behind her desk, the copier, a bouquet of flowers, another actor, or a door.

Sometimes they just shot her from the chest up.

If you're a guy and still don't believe me, take a look at the following photo. It shows Angela (and Rainn Wilson) at her onset baby shower. There's no getting around the fact that she is expecting.

While watching the later episodes of Season 4, my mom and I immediately picked up on Angela's pregnancy and would mention something about it, with my dad being oblivious: "What? She's pregnant?" Upon talking to other fellow Office fans, it seems the trend is strong: Gals were aware of Angela's pregnancy, while guys were clueless.

Ripe with Possibility

Monday evening I was about to head into our backyard to read when I saw them: the neighborhood deer. Dad was nearby and told me to throw rocks at them. I said, "Isn't it bad for rocks to be in the grass [when you have to mow the lawn]?" He reluctantly agreed, but then offered me a ripe banana instead, which I didn't take.

TV Unity

Last night at my house...
Me: Everyone [political hopefuls] always says they want to make the world a better place. No one ever says they want to make it worse.
Dad: That's right! I need to find that party and join.

My parents have been lamenting recently. They know what is ahead. For two weeks our television showed nothing but Olympic coverage. Then came Democratic National Convention coverage and commentary. This week is the Republican National Convention. But after a four-week span of athletic and political intensity, what's to come?

I comforted Dad with the knowledge that The Office will be starting up again on September 25 (mark your calendars!), but this doesn't do much for Mom. Our house needs more unifying televised events!

Brainer or No-Brainer?

I previously thought that voting in the upcoming presidential election would be a no-brainer for me, but now I'm reconsidering my previous stance. As November approaches, I need to dig a little deeper and consider what the best choice is. We'll see what I end up deciding.

This road of indecision is brought to you by a conversation with my brother. (He's very convincing.)

New World Record

In the last few weeks there have been several new world records made. All are amazing, and most are in the realm of athletics due to the 2008 Olympics. However, there is one non-athletic record that I know of that took place in my home.

Saturday morning my brother packed up his car and left for his junior year of college. Then on Sunday morning, my mom found me as I was getting ready for church to tell me, "I miss him already." The reasons that make this a world record are as follows:

1. The verbal expression of missing my brother occurred less than 24 hours after his departure.


2. This is his junior year of college, not his freshman year. He's been away before.


3. It already felt as if my brother wasn't home for a large portion of the summer due to his work and sleep schedule.

This third reason isn't very solid, though. Despite his odd schedule, we still knew he was living at home and would be back within a matter of hours. Somehow that made it different.

Earlier this week, as I was lying in bed at night, I found myself expecting to hear the front door open at any moment, followed by the sound of almost inaudible footsteps and the rustling of a reused plastic grocery bag. When I realized that I wouldn't hear him because he'd gone back to school, my heart sank a little.

All-Exclusive Family Vacation

Tomorrow morning the fam will head south to visit family, leaving me with a list of duties to make sure get done while they're gone. They're very simple things, such as getting the mail, checking for phone messages, watering the lawn, and taking out the trash. But they're things I don't normally do. Any bets I'll go a few days forgetting some of them?

Also, they'll be taking our best vehicle, the newer of our Buicks. It makes sense, considering the distance they're going. Then I'll get to drive our second best car, the little Saturn I used to call mine that my brother now uses. (That's right, the one that made friends with a deer last fall.)

We're a strange family, swapping vehicles as the occasion calls for it. The first few times my boss saw me come to work in one car and leave in another (because a family member switched cars with me partway through the day), he seemed to get a little confused. I guess it does confuse even me at times. A few days ago I filled up the Buick's tank only to realize that it did me no good (because it will be out of the state for a week). Phooey. I hope the Saturn's full. Even if it's not, though, it'll be much less than my usual "boat-of-a-car" Buick fill-up.

Nightly Conversation

Monday night I didn't fall asleep until 5 a.m. Wednesday it was 4 a.m. There is a plus side to this. I get to spend time with my brother who doesn't come home during the week until 2 a.m. So we've been talking.

Last night was Watch C-SPAN and Make Fun of the Democrats Night. Loads of fun. Honestly, the average republican was more respectful, articulate, and fact-focused than his democratic counterpart. It was almost unreal at times.

We also found ourselves on a bit of a rabbit trail. It went something like this:
Me: Do you want to see The Dark Knight on Saturday?
Bro: No. What is it?
Me: It's the new batman movie.
Bro: It has Heath Ledger as the joker, doesn't it? A female coworker of mine was raving about him at lunch.
Me: I'm not surprised.
Bro: It was so annoying when he died. That's all the girls on campus were talking about. They were walking around campus holding up dvds with his face on them saying, "Heath Ledger this. Heath Ledger that. OMG!" So I joined in after awhile... "Heath Ledger? Heath Ledger! Heath Ledger!!!??" [sporting a crazed look on his face].
Me: That's mean.
Bro: So?
Me: Can Heath Ledger help it if he makes girls swoon?
Bro: No, he can't help it if he makes girls swoon. But it's counterproductive to society. They [the swooning girls] could use their time better. In the 19th century the national pastime was politics. Now it's sports and entertainment.
Me: You like sports.
Bro: Yes, but it doesn't consume me. If a team wins or loses, it doesn't really have an effect on me.

At one point it shifted in direction to:
Bro: I can't tell if a guy is hot or not. I don't look at guys that way.
Me: That's good to know.

My brother's the best.

You Know This Is How I Am

My brother and I were talking this weekend. I don't remember most of what was said, but at one point my brother told me, "You know this is how I am." I immediately diverted the conversation with, "If you ever write an autobiography, that would make a great title!" And then we both started saying, "You know this is how I am," a few times aloud to test the sound of it. I think he ended up agreeing with me, but even if he didn't, I'd still like the idea.

One of my aunts has been on an Alaskan cruise for a little while and was kind enough to send us a little gift in the mail from her trip. It's some Alaskan salmon sealed in a little pouch and labeled as "Salmon Mail." When my brother came home from work the other night, my dad asked him if he'd seen the salmon-gram (as in telegram, but receiving salmon and not tele). My brother said, "No," and immediately started rifling through our assortment of cereal, thinking my dad had said "Salmon Grahams." I definitely milked this the rest of the night. (Question: Why would anyone in their right mind create a cereal with fish in it? Why?)

To finish this post off and create a third little item (threes are good), I found out that if anyone ever needs me to apply butterfly bandages to an open wound, they can count on me to finish the job without getting lightheaded. I was very surprised. My mom didn't fair so well, though. And my dad wasn't even in the room. Oh, yeah! (My brother had a little mishap at his factory job but is well.)

Converging Paths

Last night, part of me was thinking I might be carried off by a tornado. The night sky I was driving into wasn't just storming. It had a smattering of that crazy, hazy yellow along with dark, menacing clouds that made me think of "The Wizard of Oz." The radio station would occasionally pause to warn of weather that could form into tornadoes passing from Marshall county's southwest corner to its northeast corner. Our paths were converging.

So as I was driving, I:

1) continued to listen to music, but turned it down on occasion so I could catch any possible strange noises that might clue me in on an approaching tornado.

2) looked around me for funnel clouds that might start to form.

3) made sure there were other people on the road, too. (The fail-safe "if everyone else is doing it, it must be okay" thought.)

4) prayed that God would keep me safe and I would know what to do if something happened.

5) told myself that if I saw a funnel cloud approaching me, I would pull over (hopefully by an empty field with little around me) and lie down in a ditch (making sure to take my purse with me but leaving my sweater in the car so it might avoid possible damage... me and my sweaters).

6) pictured scenes from the movie "Twister."

No, I'm not completely crazy. I have lived in Indiana all my life, so the thought of tornadoes doesn't freak me out. But when there's the possibility of their formation, I'm normally in my house with family, not driving on a road alone.

And then my brother almost hit a deer last night on his way home from work...

Neighborhood Drama

Yesterday evening my neighborhood had a meeting concerning a bit of a hot topic. Both my parents went... with differing views. Mom tried to get Dad to promise that he either wouldn't go or open his mouth, but she didn't succeed. When they came home after its finish, I asked, "So you both came back alive?"

Happy Thursday!

Two good things about today:

1) My brother comes home for the summer.

2) The Office season finale (sniff) is one hour long (yay!).

What a Nice Guy!

When my brother was home for spring break a couple months ago, I jokingly asked him if he would like to share an apartment with me after he graduates from college. I thought his immediate response would be a polite version of, "Are you kidding me? No, thank you!" But he took me seriously and was receptive to the idea.

He hasn't been thrilled with his roommate experiences so far, and says he already knows what he can expect from me. I highly doubt the likelihood of us sharing a place, but it's nice that he thinks we'd get along alright.

When we were younger, I used to tell my brother that I'd feel sorry for his wife if he ever married. (Horrible, I know.) But he's turned into a decent fellow. He called our house a couple days ago, making a point to talk to both my mom and me. What a nice guy!

Night Out

My family and I sat down last night to watch The Office, as we normally do when it's a new episode. This one, entitled "Night Out," did not have the usual office setting. These episodes tend to be sub par.

Dad still thought it was a good episode, but he kept expressing his sadness that Ryan now seems to have a problem with drugs. I tried to tell him that Ryan's just a character; he doesn't really exist. But my dad is still disappointed with one of his favorites.

I guess I shouldn't make fun. I do get caught up in the Jim/Pam plot. I mean, it's Jim and Pam! Come on!

Train Wreck

I was part of a train wreck last night that was a class presentation. When I got home, my parents immediately asked me, "So how did it go?"

I said, "Not well."

They asked, "Which part?"

I replied, "All of it."

And then Dad tried saying nice things when all I wanted to do was let it go. But it's just about all my mind falls on today...

Deadbolt Blues

Well, it's happened. My parents changed the locks on me. They got a new deadbolt since the old one was being testy. But my mom was nice enough to tell me to just ring the doorbell when I get home, instead of trying my key for who knows how long before I realize it doesn't work.

This brings to mind some childhood memories of getting locked out of the house. I'd walk home from elementary school but couldn't get inside. I don't remember if it was because I forgot my key (a likely possibility considering who we're talking about), or because it was the middle of the winter and the lock refused to take my key. I think the latter was the case at least a few times, because I remember shivering in the cold, waiting for my mom to get home.

Later on in my childhood, when it was both my brother and me, we got a little wiser and would crawl in through a window. With age comes wisdom... hopefully.

Thirty Bananas

This is what Dad bought last night. Mom and I looked at each other and asked him if he was going to eat them all. He said that we could have some, but, yes, he was planning on eating them.

Apparently someone told my dad that bananas are good for you, so he's eating bananas. Yep. Bananas.

Sickness Is All in the Mind

This is what my dad claims. Brainpower, he says, is what keeps him from getting sick. Of course, he can have a fever and aches, throw up, and maybe even succumb to a rare disease that causes him to lose a limb without it being sickness.

Sickness, according to my dad, is missing work. And since my dad hasn't missed work for bodily happenings in... well, ever, he thinks he can say that he's immune to it.

And so on those occasions when my dad is practically coughing up a lung, I smile and make a nice little comment about how he must have lost his brainpower. He counters with, "I'm not sick," and I finish with, "Mmmhmmm."