mt. marcy

I submitted my first law school application today. Of course, I think I did something wrong and I have to call the school tomorrow, but I did press send!

In college I had my "own" table by a window at the library. And even though I had been there everyday prior, once finals rolled around my table would get stolen by someone who hadn't stepped foot into the library since finals time the semester before. This really irked me.

With 2008 came diets and gym goers. The first time I tried to go to spin class in 2008, there was not a bike available; the second try I got a bike, just not "mine."

I know my fellow students don't like to have the fan on, because they like to have a good sweat. But with 30 people stuffed into a tiny room huffing and puffing on their bikes, I have got to have the fan going. Since I know folks prefer the fan off I wait until after the second song to turn the fans on. When I did this on Monday I heard the instructor mumble something. So during the entire third song my mind was running...is she really made at me??? I was annoyed. At the end of the song, she said something to the effect of, "Marcy, you're killing me, I can't yell over the fans!" So I got off my bike, turned off the fans, collected my jacket and keys and exited the room. ...all this with her saying, "Marcy, Marcy come back."

I know, this is such drama.

I finished my workout by getting on the stationary bike in the main part of the gym. My mind continued to run. Here are things that upset me about the situation:

1. I don't like to be yelled at (but I understand that's what motivates a lot of people during spin class), but I especially don't like to be yelled at to do something off of the bicycle.
2. It really disgusts me to not have any air circulation in that room.
3. If the majority of the class wants the fans off, then I guess I won't go to class.
4. Maybe I'll bring my own little fan to class
5. I work harder than the rest of the fatties in class, thus need a fan blowing on me
6. The instructor used to be a band director and she treated me like one of her students
7. It is disrespectful to yell at someone.

And the drama continues.

Today the instructor called my cell phone and left a message for me to call her back. I haven't yet because I was busy and did not want to take time away from my work to compose what I would say, much less talk to her. I will call her tomorrow.

Sometimes one needs to go to the bathroom in the basement at work. Sure, that probably happens to me more often than it happens to others, but at least I go down there. I am disgusted at people who don't. We have clients coming into our building regularly and there are women in my office who are comfortable enough to do their "duty" on the main floor.

Yesterday I was in the basement and started hearing voices coming downstairs. I recognized the voice as the owner of the company. He was giving a tour of the building. In the basement we have a game room with pool tables, a gym and a locker rooms/bathrooms. The owner, always conscience of electricity usage, stuck his head in the bathroom and turned out the light. I kept my mouth shut and prayed he wouldn't say "yoo-hoo". If he did, I would have been a mute.

Don't cha know, never make fun of someone from North DakOta?!

When the movie Fargo came out, I was living in ND. I loved it, because it poked a little fun at ND and captured even the little things about this extremely homogeneous society- like even the kitchen cabinet stain the EVERYONE uses. But boy did ND get upset with that movie. They practically boycotted it. I had moved from Mississippi and A Time to Kill (the movie) had just come out. From watching the movie, you would think that there is not an air conditioner in the South and that we just all sit on the front porch fanning ourselves. Southerners didn't get mad and think that everyone was picking on them. They just enjoyed the movie for what it was.

So recently the National Geographic stepped on some toes when it ran an article called The Emptied Prairie, discussing the declining economy and activity in rural ND. http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/ngm/2008-01/emptied-north-dakota/bowden-text-p2.html

North Dakotans took offense and ABC named the citizens of ND their Person of the Week. http://abcnews.go.com/Video/playerIndex?id=4157223&affil=ktnve
(PS, the campus in the clip is UND)

Oh geez. I must end with my favorite kind of joke, an Olie and Lena joke.

LENA AND OLIE are an middle aged couple without any children,one day LENA was out in the garden planting tulips,when OLIE came out fo the shed to tell her something,he watches his wife LENA bend over to pick up a shovel when suddenly he exclaims in a shocked voice "LENA YOUR BUTTS AS WIDE AS A SIX ROW CORN PICKER!!!!.....LENA gives OLIE a disapproved look and says "Oh OLIE your always exagerating.

A couple nights later OLIE and LENA were in bed together,when suddenly OLIE starts getting romantic and frisky,rubbing LENA,wanting to make some love. When suddenly LENA Turns over and exclaims "OH OLIE DO YOU THINK IAM GOING TO START UP THIS SIX ROW CORN PICKER,FOR ONLY ONE LITTLE CORN COB!!!!

The picture in my last blog of a lovely lady getting a facial is not me. I cut and pasted this picture from a spa in Miami Beach, Florida.

Sorry to disappoint you. I probably didn't even get the normal mask, rather a thick slather of benzoyl peroxide.

Bradley has a toy we named Henry. Henry is a fluffy dog who wears a robe. Henry is gay. Today I went to the spa. I now understand why Henry is gay. After a day at the spa, I am quite gay. Ahh, it was lovely.

Lisa, one of the producers (insurance word for salesman), got a nice cash bonus for her hard work in 2007. She generously took three of her helpers to the spa to say "thank you". We started out with wine, raspberry tea, tomato basil soup and a margareta pizza on whole wheat crust. Then we went got 90 minute massages and facials. I hadn't had a facial since my 16th birthday. I even enjoyed it more than the massage. Recently I have had the complexion of a fifteen year old. I was afraid that they would ask if I wanted the preteen acne facial. They didn't ask, but maybe that's what they gave me, because now, miraculously, my face is clear!

We finished the day with chocolate cheesecake and champagne.

What a treat! Too bad Lisa can't see this blog. She's one of the ones on a diet. She abstained from wine and cheesecake. Sucker. PS, on that note- I no longer feel the need to gorge myself in front of my dieting coworker friends. Thank goodness.

. . . or maybe I was never tough. The current temperature in Grand Forks, North Dakota (where I went to high school) is negative 22 degrees with a wind chill making it feel like it's negative 40. The current temperature in Waco is 28 degrees and I am in my house, with the heater going, bundled up with a scarf, hat, jacket and the only reason my mittens are off is for typing.

I have been in Texas eight years now, making it my second longest stay since North Carolina, which lasted ten years. North Dakota was five bitterly cold years. I swam year round and in the winter when I would dash from the pool to my car, my eye lashes and hair would freeze. Not to mention your nostril hair freezes daily. I wore long johns under everything and was always bundled up. We had a gas fireplace and once I burned a hole in my socks because I had my feet so close to the screen and for so long.

Now I'm making it sound like it wasn't a good time. But that's not true. Just because it was cold didn't mean it wasn't enjoyable. High school and college hockey were the winter entertainment. It was a really safe town, where no one locked their doors and if you ran into the grocery store, you left your car running (yes, with the keys in the ignition!) As they say, thirty below keeps the riffraff out.

There were outlets by the spaces in parking lots and in garages where you could plug you car in so the battery didn't freeze.

Dearest mother used to say, it's as cold as a witch's titty. Perhaps that should be the name of her blog :)

VS is its semi-annual sale! Last year I bought an ipex bra (not on sale) and loved it. Wore it everyday. I know, I'm nasty. Anyways, somehow I lost it. I have looked everywhere with no luck finding it. So I found a lookalike at Wal-Mart for a tenth of the price, so I jumped on it. Nearly immediately, it formed this weird crease so that I could only wear it with heavy sweaters. I do have other bras, but one is floral and another is black and the rest are just plan uncomfortable. So the two that I do like I can't wear with anything, because it seems all I wear are pastels and white.
Thus, I am the proud owner of two new bras (sadly no ipex), a new pair of granny underwear and some new yoga pants- all at bargain basement prices.

PS, nude really is the best color in bras. ...does it count as sexy if it looks like skin?

Attention readers: cast your vote!

Mary is going to start a blog, but needs a little assistance. She is unsure what she would blog about, claiming that North Dakota is boring...and two, she doesn't know what the name of her blog should be. I suggested "Trying not to blow away" since ND is windy, but she said she didn't want the word "blow" in her name. So please help her with blogging ideas and blog names.

PS, I doubt she would like Mary does North Dakota either.

Oh, maybe silver fox or mother dearest...or if mama ain't happy ain't nobody happy.

XOXO, M

There are so many movies I want to see right now. Last weekend I saw Sweeny Todd and loved it, and the week before that I ignored the numerous evangelical email forwards and saw the amazing show, The Golden Compass. Friday night I went to Atonement and while I didn't like the ending within an ending like the rest of my posse, it was still good. Now I want to see Juno, Kite Runner, I am Legend, 27 Dresses, and I think there's another one, but I can't remember it right now.

Anyways, now that TV has gone to h-e-double l with the writer's strike, it's refreshing to see such great movies in store.

My blog name is not supposed to be dirty. I realize that mt marcy may sound sexual, but it's really not meant to. My parents were not hippies (that I am aware of) but they did name me after a mountain, Mount Marcy is in the Aderondacks in New York.

As the story goes, after for two miserable days of being bitten by black flies and trudging up this mountain alongside my father my mother had two epiphanies. One: she didn't have to climb just because my dad enjoyed it, since she didn't make him cross-stitch since she enjoyed that. ...and Two: she would name her first daughter Marcy, in hopes that she would be independent.

I've always liked my name, especially since there were no Marcys in any of my classes. Over Christmas I was shopping at the mall and a mother corrected her sweet Marcy by yelling her name. I immediately perked up to see what I had done wrong to learn it was directed at a little girl. They noticed my reaction, I told them my name and we all laughed about it. I have always had a need to be different, so it's a good thing my name isn't Emily or Christy.

Thanks folks!

PS, the picture is of Mount Marcy. One day I'll make it there.

Today I went to an insurance seminar. The speaker was from a consulting company with a name like Strategic Solutions Consulting. While most of the things the speaker discussed were generic, I was interested in one thing, the ABC's of employment. There are three types of employees: A, B and C.

A employees give off positive energy, have a "can-do" attitude, and are self motivated.
B employees only do what is status-quo, have rigid ideas of their job duties and believe they should be rewarded for doing what they're assigned to do, not for performing above and beyond.
C employees have never been at fault for anything and have a negative attitude.

B & C employees have job security until someone better comes along.

My team at work as one C employee, three Bs and maybe two As (I did not include my personal grade) . This seminar has got me thinking about what kind of employee I am. I hope I am an A, but sometimes I can act like a B, especially when I don't want to do something that is out of my realm of duties...like scanning and making copies. Mostly, I think I'm better than those duties. Sometimes when I am standing over the copier I have to remind myself that I have a college education. I think to myself, "are they really paying me five big digits to copy insurance policies?"

This is also motivation for law school. Yikes! If I make it into law school, pass the bar and somehow find a way to become a practicing attorney, I bet I will find a way to get a job where I am making copies for the firm partners.

Great, now I am starting to sound like a C employee.

Since January 1st it seems everyone is dieting. Each of my lady coworkers have a goal. One has a wedding in June and wants to lose twenty pounds in six months. She's hired a personal trainer and is watching what she eats. But she can't make it to 3 p.m. without running to the vending machine to grab a bag of cheetoes. Another is not fat, but soft, and is trying to not eat as much fast food. Another who is 55 and slim for her age, is trying to not drink sodas. And the last has given up flour. How on earth do you eliminate flour from your diet?! But I am told there are lots of alternatives to flour.

My problems is not with people dieting, but my reaction to their dieting. When other people diet and talk about what they can't eat, something in me makes me wants to eat ridiculous amounts of food...in front of them. What is wrong with me?

Examples: Monday we had a work lunch at Cheddar's. Since everyone was discussing their diets and lamenting what they could and could not eat, specifically the honey croissants, what did I do...eat two honey croissants! Even after they told me each had 500 calories. Then today we had another work lunch, this time at Johnny Carinos. I "had" to eat half a loaf of bread, dunking each bite into the roasted garlic olive oil. Lastly, when my coworker was telling me about her no flour diet, I could not stop eating chocolate covered raisins.

On a whole, I consider myself a fairly healthy eater. I read food labels and try to steer clear of processed foods with high fructose corn syrup and hydrogenated fats. But this same type of behavior surfaces when I am around a really religious person. At those times, I turn into a horrid person, cursing like a sailor and drinking like a painter.

So for my butt's sake, I hope everyone stops dieting.

PS, Mother knows best. And since my mother's motto is "everything in moderation", I encourage all my dieting friends to follow this.

In case you care...I ran into the preacher and his wife again...this time at the grocery store.