2 things i'm bound to forget about in panama

#1. Don't drink the water. This goes for ice cubes too. My fragile little American immune system probably wouldn't be able to handle it, and I'd have the runs for days.  Graphic, I know.

#2. Don't flush the toilet paper. Apparently it screws up the plumbing.  Due to habit, this could pose a problem... we'll just have to see.

This should be interesting.

I'M PSYCHED. :)

hmmm. i can be so ironic.

You know, getting stressed out is really you just being a pansy and not getting done what you need to get done.

I stumbled upon this on today, while meandering through a plethora of facebook statuses (while, ironically enough, I was procrastinating plenty of other tasks I should have been making an effort to accomplish).

So that's it. Stress is often just the spawn of procrastination. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I ought to be finishing up my laundry for the night so I can continue packing for Panama.  Not that I'm stressed. I'm much too excited about my trip.

Hasta luego...

oh. hello there panama.

It doesn't feel like it's been all that long since July 2009, when first arose the potential opportunity to go to Panama with the Cronin's.   I've been looking at so many of Joy's photos (see a few below), hardly being able to believe I will soon be right there myself!

And now, here we are.  Less than a week away from our departure.  I have to be honest and say I have high expectations. I can't help it.

I am certain that it is going to be an unforgettable experience.

In more ways than one.

life is like a piano

...what you get out of it depends on how you play it.

First off, I am amused by how many different things we have found to relate to life.  People have been able to come up with such a vast array of clever "life is like a..." fill-in-the-blank's.  I like it.  It makes you think. Not that all of them are true; but many of them are, and those are the ones I obviously find most appealing.

I stumbled upon this very one, just today. Mostly, I love it because I love piano.

Understatement of the year.

Music in itself is magical. Listening to it can give people goosebumps; playing it gives an unmatched, exhiliarating feeling that is only understandable to those who have personally experienced it.  As a novice pianist myself, I get that feeling the most when I play something from memory, so effortlessly that I am hardly even thinking about it.  (I play best when I'm not thinking very hard about it anyways.) 

That's why I love my lesson every week. It graces my day with an unfailing joy: a joy that I look forward to every week. Of course, I practice at home throughout the week; but there is something special about having practice time with my teacher.  I have heard a good number of horror stories about unforgiving, impatient, even choleric piano teachers that have tutored certain acquaintances of mine in the past. I am convinced that mine, Mrs. Chappell, is among the most gracious teachers I have ever met.  Not to mention one of the most passionate musicians I know.

That's why I love lessons, and I guess I do a decent job every week too I don't know. Ask Mrs. Chappell. She will agree with me when I say I suppose tend to be a perfectionist by nature. I'm driven to compete, if only with myself. This has its plus sides as well as weaknesses.  Apparently I'm better at it than I think I am, and to be honest, I'd like to keep it that way. Always.

Piano is a breath of fresh air. It's a release. It helps me sharpen my sense of discipline while providing a sort of personal entertainment.  I hope the joy and sense of accomplishment that it brings will stay with me the rest of my life.

eureka!

It's Greek for "I have found it!"
To be honest, I did not utter precisely that when I recently stumbled upon my old friend Barney the dinosaur. I am sure I did not say anything more monumental than "Oh wow, I'd forgotten all about you."

It reminds me of Toy Story (either that, or its sequel).  My poor plaything served its purpose valiantly, and by the time I was six or seven, I was suddenly content with the idea of my purple dinosaur's being auctioned off at a seasonal yardsale. 

Obviously my mom had other plans; or maybe she didn't plan on it at all, and just decided all at once that she could not bear to part with my dear old Barney -- even after I apparently could.  Then again, she probably did not care either way. Barney probably just happened to be lucky enough to spend the remainder of his existence in the abyss of the Andrews kids' toybox.

Sure enough, that is exactly where I found him. I checked his faded violet tooshie to check for the presence of a hole -- a hole just the right size to accommodate the hand of a five-year-old.   My older brother Zach's Barney had this feature, so that the dinosaur could be both a stuffed animal and a puppet, and I knew that his little dinosaur friend was probably lying around here somewhere too. 

There was no hole.

It was my Barney.

Lost: my appetite. monetary reward if found & properly returned.

Few infamous events in the academic career of students, past and present, generate more foreboding sentiments than those of the dissection of a frog.

Here I am, at 4:29 in the afternoon, not exactly interested in the dinner I would have been having in an hour or so. This is what I get for spending a good hour trying desperately to remember what exactly I did (besides hold my breath) while dissecting that little amphibious carcass two weeks ago. I do not mind the writing, which is obvious enough. I do mind having to remember the view of poor Kermit the Frog's internal organs displayed so nicely.  Not that I was helplessly grossed-out. I just can't think about that and eat simultaneously.

This is also what I get for procrastinating the biology project until now.  No doubt it would have been a breeze if I had written it many days ago. 

(Mrs. Deibler, if you're reading this, I would be more than happy to share my more than decent excuse.)

Now if you don't mind, I have an English paper to attend to. A student's work is never done.

waking up

I love that feeling you get when you wake up. Especially on certain days. Not usually Mondays though, which is why I find it ironic that I'm writing about this today of all days. And no, I didn't just wake up.

There isn't anything in the world like waking up.

Waking up, gazing out your bedroom window, and finding that it is snowing. Or waking up and knowing it's Christmas morning. Waking up and realizing it's the first day of summer. Waking up, feeling lazy, hearing the pitterpatter of rain on the roof, then remembering it's Saturday anyway.  Waking up to the smell of Belgian waffles being concocted in the kitchen downstairs.

Waking up is a gift. You are waking up to a fresh new day: another paragraph in your life. Life's a gift, you know? 

♫
You know how I feel / It's a new dawn / It's a new day / It's a new life for me / And I'm feeling good...   -Michael Bublé 

saved by the bell

Apparently I was in dire need of a certain vaccine before skidattling off to Panama. ("Was," here having the meaning of "until a few moments ago.")I only just found out about an hour or so ago, when Mom got off the telephone (with the doctor, I suppose) and told me I had an appointment at 4:20.

I was a good patient. As usual.

And no, I didn't shed a tear. Not that I've recently cried over something as measly as a shot. Even as a three-year-old, I was only ever known to make a bit of a pouty face when it was time for a shot.

This time around, the nurse even gave me a funky little band-aid. It is not the usual bland shade of beige; to be honest, the funky hues interact with each other in a collage reminiscent of the tv show Saved by the Bell. Super '90s.  (Not that I would know.)

patience is a virtue

Twenty-four days till Panama! In a way, it's a long time to wait; but in a way, it really isn't.

On that note, I would do well to plan a shopping day (or seven) to refresh my spring/summer wardrobe. (Tee hee :) I'll get to that eventually.

Veinte y cuatro días hasta veo a mi prima Joy...

oh the joys of pumpkin pie

Whoever first spouted the idiom "easy as pie" obviously never tried making a pie before. 

A good pie takes effort, and for a novice like me, a little luck.

Unless you whip up the filling from a can of Libby's and pour it into a store-bought shell. But where's the novelty in that?  Not that I'm one to mock. Sure, I never fail to make my crust from scratch (even if the crust ends up being a failure after all); but when it is time for a pumpkin pie filling, I break out the Libby's. 

Pumpkin pie from scratch.  Sounds messy. Feat or fiasco, I'd love to try it someday.

because blogging equals writing things you don't think people care to read half the time.

I know you all are so intensely curious about the details of what goes on in my everyday life, so here's basically what this average Tuesday has consisted of. [Note sarcasm.]  Bon appetit. 

Oh man.  I basically just wished you "happy eating" in French. Right before you read my random "these are the random things I chose to do today" list. My apologies; I must be tired.

a day in the life.  [or just a few odd facts about it, told in present-tense English.]

• Sit up in bed and read Proverbs 31, to remind myself what a woman of noble character ought to be. Verse 30 is especially worth remembering. Check.
• Stumble into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I'm neurotic about that.  Check.
• Take my 2-year-old beagle, Mocha, outside. She rather enjoys that. I do too; not so much on 30-something degree mornings. Check.
• School.... self-explanatory.  Check.
• Take my dog to play with the neighbor's dog. Check.
• Remember not to leave Mocha's prized tennis ball at neighbor's house. ("Remember last time...?") Check.
• Come home and look through the mail. Nothing for me. That's cool. Check.
• Listen to Kelly Clarkson while finishing biology homework. Check.
• Ponder upcoming frog dissection. Check.
• Ponder amazing weekend at PCTC. Check.
• Pray about a seemingly infinite list of things that clog my mind all day, every day. See Philippians 4:6. Check.
• Breathe in the celestial aroma of Mom's homemade Skyline chili. Check.
• Practice piano. It's good for the soul. Check.
• Go on facebook and procrastinate other homework. Check.
• Ponder two research papers that ought to be worked on currently, one for English and one for Economics. Check.
• Answer the phone; it's dad, calling from the airport. He's in Dallas on a business trip and says he "has never seen so many artificially-blond heads in my life." I chuckle at this. Check.
• Start on some of my previously-procrastinated homework. Check.
• Cringe at the aforementioned item and get back on the computer later. Check.
• Set ipod to shuffle. Check.
• Turn the music up a tad louder than normal in order to drown out the sound of Disney channel playing in the background. Check.
• Wonder why anybody watches/genuinely enjoys the new Disney stuff anymore. Check.
• Think about the research topics that I really should be formulating at this very moment. Check.
• Upload old, memories-inducing photos to facebook. Check.
• Wait for people to comment on them.  ....Ok. Guess not. Check.
• Get on blogger and type all this for your eager eyes to devour. Check.
• Desperately hope that you enjoyed it. Check check.
• Think again, and decide you don't really mind either way. Check check check.