Smashing New Hat Increases Ego Points by 30

I got a new hat yesterday. Buying hats is always a tricky thing, because they always look really good in the dressing room, only to prove to be all wrong for you when you get home. But my hat passed the husband approval test, so I knew I had a good thing going.

Even better, today I received five compliments. My boss, my co-workers, even the mailman were all impressed by my hat. I have to say, I was afraid the hat would rip because my head swelled larger and larger with each mention. What a great day!Now it's your turn! Admire!

Just When I Thought He was Cool ...

M. Night Shyamalan decided to produce an environmentally preachy movie. Thanks. I'm sure evil Amercians will be featured along with evil corporations. Personally, as someone who has been bombarded with these messages since Captain Planet, it's gotten old.

Judgment

One of non-Christians' favorite lines to throw at Christians is "Judge not!" Usually this follows after a Christian makes a stance against a particular lifestyle.

Me: "I really think it's a bad idea to go to parties and get wasted and engage in promiscuous sex."

Non-Christian: "Judge not lest ye be judged! So there! I'm off the hook."

Christians are admonished not to judge, yet later in the same passage we are told to judge a tree by it's fruit.

I see there is a distinction. The second passage is refering to false teachers, and how to tell if what they are teaching is right. However, where does that lead? If we judge a teacher to be false by his fruit, how are we to respond? Are we to judge the teaching, but not the teacher?

I'm struggling because I know a person who says she's a Christian, yet she is living with her boyfriend (who, while separated, is still married to another woman), cheats on her taxes, and is trying to collect worker's compensation in spite of the fact that she has a new job. I believe these actions are clearly inconsistant with the teachings of Christ. I would even go so far as to say she isn't really a Christian at all. And that's where the rub is. Am I judging her? Am I wrong to do so?

Of course, I haven't said anything to her, and I'm not likely to, as we are not close friends. My real concern is not even her at all, but myself. If I believe she is doing something wrong, should I say something to her? Should I let it lie? Sometimes I feel like we Christians embrace non-judgmentalness so strongly that we end up condoning what we ought to condem instead. Because if we really believe that sin is real, and separates people from God, then we need to help people see they have a sin problem, not ignore it. It's only when people realize they need saving that they'll look for a Savior.

So how do we do it?

Sometimes it's Hard to Tell ...

Important Alert!

The Williams and I went to IKEA yesterday. (Since I know you're wondering, I purchased a spatula, a mountable display case, and a overhead lamp.) Taylor and Jen planned "to only pick up a few things" so they didn't get a shopping cart. Well, as so often happens at IKEA, a "few things" turned in twenty things they just had to have, and both Williams had arms full of merchandise. That's when Taylor decided to put a pair of glass candle holder in his pockets "for safe keeping" and then promptly forget about them. We made our purchases, and it wasn't until we sat in the car and heard the tell-tale sound of glass clinking together that we realized Taylor's criminal offense.

Taylor, being a man of integrity, told Jen that the next time she went to IKEA, she had to purchase an identical pair of candle holders and leave them behind, so it would make up for what Taylor took. Jen and I laughed, and said this was no doubt the beginning of a terrible crime spree. I asked Taylor if next time he would mind putting a Billy bookcase in his pocket for me - those are nice!

My Pet Rock Story

So, I did what I said I was going to do and adopted a pet rock. And now, I feel the need to warn to rest of you out there about what I experienced. Don't let this happen to you!

Things started off pretty well. I found a nice-looking rock and asked her if she wanted to come home and be my pet rock. She said "Sure, it's not like I'm doing much out here in the dirt." So I named her Frannie and drew a nice bubble bath for her so she could get cleaned up and presentable.Next, I took little Frannie shopping for some clothes. She said she really like lacy things. I wasn't sure how to respond to her when she asked if the skirt made her look fat. White's not the most slimming color, but she's a rock. I don't know if anything would make her look slim.After a big day of shopping I showed Frannie her room. She was so excited! She said she never had a place to herself. Before, when she was outside in a big pile of dirt and rock, she said she never had any privacy and nice things. I told her she was welcome.Good night Frannie! What a great addition to our family!Today I took Frannie out to socialize with some friends around the house. This is her playing 'Go Fish' with Eggerton. She asked when she might be able to him again. I wasn't sure how to respond, so I said "Maybe we'll have breakfast sometime."So while I was putting Eggerton back into his carton in the fridge, I saw Frannie talking to this darkly dressed and hunched over stick fellow. She told me later his name was "Twiggy." When I told her I wasn't sure he was the kind of guy she should be hanging out with, she called me a "conformist fascist" and ran to her room crying.
I'm growing concerned with Frannie's attitude lately. While I know her room is her own and I want her to be able to express herself, but why does she have to be so dark? She's started wearing these ratty, dark clothes and heavy eye makeup. I told her she was too pretty to be dressing like that, and she said I was just another sheep towing to society's definition of beauty while ignore the real ugliness of the world around me. I told her the only ugliness I saw around me was her room, to which she ran crying.So I caught Frannie out by the windowsill smoking! I was horrified and asked her where on earth she had picked up smoking cigarettes? She responded "What makes you think it was a cigarette?" I wasn't sure what to do. Should you make a kid smoke a whole carton of marijuana joints in order to make make her stop smoking?Frannie ran away from home last night. This is a picture Twiggy sent me with a note saying that my conformist, fascist ways were too suffocating for a free thinker like Frannie. Apparently she's headed to California where the individuals are.

So, this is where loving a pet rock gets you. I tried to do my best to give her a better home, and she ripped out my heart and stomped on it with stiletto heels. Please, before you decide to adopt a pet rock, think about my story. Don't make the mistakes I did.

Pet Rocks

Who ever decided that a rock would make a good pet? I can only imagine it was some dad trying to persuade his kid out of a puppy. "You don't want a puppy! They're loud, they smell, they pee on my new leather furniture." Looks wildly around. "I know, lets get you a pet rock! Yeah, a pet rock. They're the greatest. You want a pet rock, don't you son?"

I bring this up because I was browsing through my "How to of the Day" and low and behold, there was an article titled "How to Find a Pet Rock". In fact, I saw more articles about pet rocks than I did regular pets. Seeing as how I have never better to do, I am going to get my own pet rock. I'll let you know how it goes.

Picture

If I could, I would like to be a cartoonist, or at least be able to illustrate my own children's books. I've been trying to improve my drawing skills by reading and studying other artists' work. So, here I have a picture I drew, scanned, and attempted to color using GIMP. I don't think it's too bad, but then again, they say mothers love their ugly children too. Let me know what you think.

Not Supposed to be Barbie by Meg

Random Question of the Day

Why does a lot of cheese smell really bad, and yet taste so delicious? Like blue cheese for instance. It smells like dirty gym socks, and yet I love to crumble it all over my salad. I consulted an expert, Jennifer Williams, Licensed Nurse Practitioner, on this matter.

"It doesn't make sense," Williams said, "as your olfactory sensor and taste sensor are connected together."

I guess we'll never know.

Gay Men and Models

I watched America's Next Top Model and the Search for the New Pussycat Doll last night. In my defense, I was just looking for something mindless to listen to while I folded laundry. You'd think folding laundry was mindless enough in of itself, but I needed more. So. As I was watching, I noticed a strange phenomenon in both shows. Gay men were teaching the women on the show how to be well, women. It made me wonder how far we've come as a society when it takes a man who likes men to show how to be a sexy woman to women who like men. Are our women so liberated that it now takes a man to be a feminine woman? After all, our single women are addressed as "Ms." This guy goes by "Miss J."

On an entirely unrelated note, I totally had a TV like this when I was a kid.

Delve into my Psyche!

This will explain everything to you.

Kitty Found!

First, I want to thank everyone who left encouraging comments. Sometimes I feel silly being attached to a cat, which is such a by-product of me being a spoiled and affluent (by most of the world's standards) person with enough wealth to feed a completely useless animal just because it makes me happy. But still, I don't have babies, so I have kitties instead.

But just like you can empathize, I fully believe God also empathizes with our little pains. There are a lot of important things God's working on, like the salvation of all our souls, but he still takes time to comfort a child over a simple loss. And even better, sometimes he evens answers those simple prayers.

Last night Taylor and I were sitting on the couch and talking after we posted "missing" ads on craigslist and leaving messages with the local shelters. We wondered about how God asks us to be joyful in all circumstances, and what that means for us. If Austin really disappeared, were we to rejoice over that? Or perhaps, knowing that God also says that he works all things for the good of those who love him, rejoice knowing that even if we never discover how or why, God will take tragedies and make something wonderful from them for his purposes.

As we sat musing, we heard a knock on our door. We looked at each in anticipation. We weren't expecting company, so there was no reason for someone to be there, unless ... I opened the door and there was our neighbor, who said "You guys left the interior light on in you car."

Not quite what we were hoping for. I thanked the guy, and left to go turn off the light. And as I was walking back, there I saw a little black furry thing scurry from out under the backstairs of my apartment. I ran up to it, and sure enough, it was Austin! If that guy hadn't warned us about the light, I wouldn't have seen him. But here's the oddest thing yet! The passenger side door of the car hadn't been shut properly, which is why the light was on. But the door had been frozen shut from the ice, and neither Taylor nor I remember opening it that day.

Coincidence, a secularist would say yeah. But for me, I think it was God showing kindness to someone he loves.

Welcome home Austin.

Missing Kitty!

Okay, so I may be jumping the gun a little bit, but I think Austin, my cat, is dead. I let him and his brother outside to play this morning, and only Healey came back. I spent half and hour walking around the parking lot of my building and the buildings next doors calling for Austin, but no sign. I tried following his footprints, but I'm no tracker, and I think he must have powers of teleportation I never knew about because many of the tracks just seemed to end in the middle of my front yard. I've been peeking my head out the door a couples times an hour calling him, but no response. I'm feeling really anxious and sad. I am ridicualously attached to that cat. I adopted him when he was just a puny runt, and nursed him into the obese and adorable cat that he is. Or was. I just can't understand where he could have gone or why he would be gone for so long unless something bad has happened to him. Hopefully, I'll be laughing at this dramatic post tomorrow, but until then I'll keep waiting and try to constrain myself from calling the police.

Snowy Valentine's

So the night before Valentine's Day, Taylor and I, along with our friends the Williams, went to P.F. Chang's for the occasion. We did this on the 13th because that 14th was completely booked, and it turned out to be quite fortuitous that we celebrated a day early.

The weather has been quite cool for a couple weeks now, but the long awaited snow finally arrived yesterday on the 14th. Well, you could call it snow, or you could call it gross, wet slushy stuff, which I think is more accurate of a description. After the gross, slushy stuff came ice pellets that somehow defied physics and managed to fly vertically into my eyes. It was in this treacherous conditions that my car decided it was ready to have its first flat.

I understand that there's a first time for everything, but not when you're parked in a six-inch deep puddle.

But I was okay, because my friend Austin was there to my rescue. While he's normally a bit of a ne're do well, he sprung into action and got me some Fix-a-Flat, filled my tire, and then followed me home to make sure I got there safely. I promised myself I would never let his dad say anything bad about him again.

Even though having a flat tire is really annoying, when I think about all the other things that could have happened, I know that I am blessed. After all, the roads were coated in ice yesterday (and today, come to think of it) and if my car got a flat on my way home, I could have spun out in the middle of a busy street to my fiery doom. Or in less dramatic scenario, I could have gotten a flat and ended up stuck in the sleet on the side of busy road, waiting 45 minutes for a Triple A tow truck that will inevitably arrive an hour late. If we haven't eaten our romantic dinner the night before, we would have missed out on a Valentine's date.

And now today is a beautiful day with bright sun and crisp air. So all in all, I have to say I have it pretty good.

The Goatman

Back in highschool I thought it would be fun to create my own urban myth. I clearly wasn't very good at it, because this story about Camp Goddard is what resulted instead. Recently a friend asked me to remind her of the tale, and since I took all the trouble to write it down for her, I thought I'd share it with the rest of the world. Plus, it saves me from having to write a real entry. Enjoy!

*****

Some 30 or so years ago in the hills near Camp Goddard existed a secret science lab that specialized in genetics. But all the years of researching slowly caused the scientists to go mad, and in a dastardly experiment they created the ultimate abomination ... the goatman. Well, he was really a goatboy at the time, but you get my drift. The sight of the hideous creature they created caused many of the scientists to regain their sanity, and, stunned and shamed by their own creation, they sent the poor goatboy out into the hills near Camp Goddard to fend for himself.

No doubt the goatboy would have perished out in the cold, had not a herd of wild mountain goats came upon him. Being kindly creatures, they adopted him into their herd and raised him. The goatman was very happy, and he loved to tromp the hills near Camp Goddard with his family. Until one tragic day ...

The goat herd decided it was that time of year where they had to go to the grassy side of Goddard, and in order to do so they had to cross a major four lane highway. Now, this highway had just been recently expanded from a two lane to its present state, so while the goats were used to crossing the road, they had yet to experience the rigors of multi-lane traffic. They told the goatman to wait last, since he had never crossed asphalt before, and one by one they started to cross. The bloodshed was indescribable, but I'll try my best. Four semis, two SUVs, three sports cars and a minivan, all traveling well over the speed limit, took out the goatman's entire goat family. Staring in horror at the carnage before him, the goatman raised his cloven fist to the sky and swore revenge upon all fast-moving vehicle, in particular minivans, which had caused the most destruction.

After that, the goatman roamed the hills of Goddard looking for stranded vehicles upon which to take his revenge. Any poor traveler who found himself stranded would be immediately attacked by the goatman, who would jump on their cars and create a numerous amount of golf-ball sized dents in their hoods and roofs (the worse part for the traveler was later trying to prove to his insurance that he had be attacked by a goatman and wasn't just a poor swing with a golf club.)

Life continued this way for many years for the goatman, until one day he came upon a minivan broken down on the side of the road. Readying himself to jump on the hood, the goatman looked inside the vehicle and made eye-contact with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It was a bearded-woman. She had fled from a nearby circus after being spurned by the two-headed man, who said she was just too freaky-looking for him. The goatman was so taken by her that instead of attacking her, he offered to take her to the nearest gas station so she could call Triple A. While waiting the standard forty-five minutes for the tow truck to come, the bearded lady and the goatman sat outside the gas station eating hot dogs and discussing life. By the time the tow truck arrived an hour late, all he found was an abandoned minivan, for the goatman and the bearded lady decided to run off together and get married.

And once again, the goatman was happy, tromping around the hills of Camp Goddard with his beloved. But little did they know that tragedy was to strike again ...

The bearded lady was convinced that the goatman needed to face his fear of the four lane highway, so after much persuasion, they went to the highway together. It was midnight, and the air was still. She began to cross the highway, reassuring the goatman that everything would be all right, when they suddenly heard the sound of a roaring engine. It was a tour bus for the Backstreet Boys. The bearded lady tried to run, but the bus managed to clip her and she fell to the ground. The goatman watched in horror as she struggled to rise to her feet, only to be trampled by the hoard of screaming fanatic groupies who where chasing the tour bus. No one could have survived such an onslaught. Tears brimming in his eyes, the goatman once again swore revenge upon all fast moving vehicles AND boy bands. He ran into the woods, and he has been living there ever since.

So if you are ever alone in the wood near Camp Goddard, don't sing "God must have spent a little more time on you," don't sing "Bye, Bye, Bye" for it could be the last song you sing, for you will be hit by THE GOATMAN. Muah ha ha ha ha ha HA HA HA HA!

O Canada!

So, we made it back from our Niagara vacation and managed not to slide off an icy road into oblivion. Instead, we got to be cheated at every turn by friendly Canadians who made up for the currency value differences by charging twice what every item is really worth. Seriously. I paid nearly $10.00 for a pack of single blade razors, also know nick sticks.

But we knew what we were getting into. After all, when it lost it's status of the honeymoon capital of the world Niagara worked to become the number one tourist trap in the world. The center of town, known as Clifton Hill, is so packed with touristy entertainment that I felt like I stepped into ToonLand at Disney.

We didn't just spend ten dollars a pop for rides and exhibits at Clifton Hill. We were also sophisticated enough to tour several wineries and sample some of Canada's famous ice wine. If you think you don't like wine, you've obviously never had ice wine. It's so sweet and syrupy, it's like drinking fruit juice (imagine that - fermented fruit juice tasting like fruit juice). This is no Welches juice however, as is indicated by the $60 to $100 dollar price tag. I could explain to you the process of ice wine, but that's what wikipedia is for. A little word to the wise - when wine sampling, be sure to eat before you sample. It's amazing how ten one ounce samples of wine can really catch up to you.

All in all, it was a great trip. The best part was just being able to be with my favorite person, Taylor, for longer than four hours at a time. It was a time for us to reconnect, be close, and have pillow fights on a king size bed.

Those interested in viewing slides of the gorgeous Niagara falls and the two gorgeous people (ahem, that would be Taylor and me), you can click here.

Where to Go to Escape Winter in Boston? Niagara Falls!

Most couples in the North would plan their winter vacation somewhere warm, like Florida, Bermuda, or somewhere below the Ecuador. Not the Plotts, however. Not for us a week basking on the beach, escaping from the Boston Cold. We're going to Niagara Falls, baby, and we say bring it on!

Not that it's been all that cold up here anyway. It seems like the average temperature has been around 50 degrees ("And they say there's no global warming!" "Yes, thank you, Bob"), so we have yet to experience the bone-chilling, teeth-rattling cold that these Northerners like to boast about ( Actually, Taylor experienced that last year, in March, when he drove down 93 in a blizzard, but I was blissfully away at home planning our upcoming wedding. ).

However, a cold front is coming through this weekend, which happens to perfectly correspond with our vacation from Cold, MA to Even Colder, NY. Fortunately, I prepared by spending too much money on knee high boots and cardigan sweaters. They may not completely practical for icy weather, but when they find my frozen body come spring, at least I'll be nicely dressed.

This will be my and Taylor's first vacation together at a couple. We each have prepared in our different ways. Taylor spent hours on the Internet planning the perfect itinerary to make sure we made the most of every opportunity of enjoying ourselves. I prepared by spending hours on the Internet buying clothes. What can I say? I also like to make the most of every opportunity ... Okay, so I'm weak.

So stay posted friends, for the next installment of the Plott's Niagara Adventure! Trust, barrels will be involved somehow.

Is there a such thing as privacy anymore?

After I post a picture of my license, my friend Taylor W. kindly emailed me and advised me to blur out my personal information "just in case." Which was really good advice, since as so many highschoolers who have posted their drunken orgy pictures on MySpace have discovered, the internet is a public place. Not that I was really concerned, because I know only one person reads this blog, and that would be Taylor W., and he's not taking over my identity any time soon. Although, if I notice that I've been purchasing a bunch of Settlers of Catan expansion packs lately then I might have to look into it our friendship.

But really, is there such a thing as privacy anymore (You can tell I was leading up to this because of the title of my posting!)? Someone could easily look up my name in the yellowpages, or Google me, or just check any of the many forms that ask for a social security number to access information about me. Gone are the days when someone could set out West, stake a claim and isolate themselves from the world. And if you do, you're likely to get tagged as the next Unibomber. It seems like the concept of privacy is more in our minds than actually in our lives. I mean, the very fact that I'm keeping an online diary illustrates my point. So, gentle readers, please don't go stealing my identity or anything. It would really put a damper on my day.

So I'm a licensed real estate agent now ... that's doesn't mean I'm rich.

I successfully passed the Massachusetts state exam and earned my real estate license. I also managed to pass the first time around, which is a big accomplishment, as I am the only one in my office to have done so.

"Wow Meghan, you are so awesome!"

I know, thanks.

I have to admit, this whole real estate agent thing is turning out a little differently than I thought. Being a commissioned employee who sets her own schedule, I pictured a life of ease showing clients apartments in the afternoon and leaving around the office around 4:00, returning home and cooking and cleaning the house, thus becoming the perfect working wife. Well, if "perfect working wife" means not leaving the office until after 6:30, not cooking and not cleaning, then I'm doing really well right now.

Perhaps it was my naivete, but I honestly didn't consider the fact that the clients I would be working with would have jobs. And most people with jobs don't get out of work until 6:00. Of course, I could try to target people without jobs, but they tend to not have a little thing called money, which I hear is pretty important if you want to do things like eat and live in an apartment.

The good news is that I'm genuinely enjoying myself. The even better news is that I'm genuinely enjoying myself out of the pharmacy. Yes, it's true! I have left the Dismal Pharmacy Job! Let me tell you, quiting a job like that is so freeing. First of all, because I wouldn't be working for practically minimum wage until 8:00 at night, and second of all because I got to spend my last week telling customers what I really thought of them. After all, it's not like I was going to get fired.

Me: "You know sir, I would be able to get your prescription faster if you would stop coming up to me every five minutes and asking if it is finished yet."

Me: "Yes, I am quiting. Why? As a matter of fact, you're a big reason!"

However, I'm starting to have a sinking feeling that the same people who got their prescriptions at Brook's pharmacy are the same ones who call me asking if I have any two-bedroom apartments available for under $900 that will take their "small" 60 pound dog. Oh, and by the way, they're in between jobs right now and their credit score is "okay." Why won't these people leave me alone? I must give out some sort of pheromone.

For instance, I'm writing this blog posting because I had a 5:30 appointment that just called me and asked if she could move our meeting up to 6:30.

Her: "You don't mind, right?"

Me: "Of course not. It's not like I have a life to get to anytime soon or anything like that. Afterall, I keep a blog."

Hopefully my new schedule will allow many more opportunities for me to allow my wit to run long. 'Til next time, laugh with me at my real estate license picture!

Um, yeah, they used a web camera to take my picutre. I swear I'm not that squatty.

Reflections on Election

Okay, I feel the need to get this out now, because if I don't, way into the future my enemies will discover this tidbit about my life and raise it up as an example of my hypocraisy or evilness or whatever (By the way, I don't really believe I have enemies, I'm not crazy, just silly). *Deep breath* I didn't vote this year! Whew, glad to get that off my chest.

In order to better understand why I didn't vote, you might want to refer back my post about the excellent level of service at the RMV. You may think me cowardly, but I have yet to go back and try again to get my license, and at the same time, register to vote.

Now, I knew that the elections were coming up, and that I really ought to get around to getting registered so I could do my civic duty in my new town, but I really didn't care. This may sound like an excuse, but I didn't feel qualified to vote for governor, because I hadn't lived under the previous one, so don't really know her record of service, and don't really know what issues would affect my community most. Plus, I am far more interested in national politics than local ones, and Taylor ended up being the one to follow the governor's election.

I know, I know. The election was for the Senate and the House as well, but come on, do you really think Ted Kennedy and John Kerry wouldn't win? I didn't even see either one attempt to campaign.

I wasn't very happy the Democrats took the House and nearly took the Senate. But now they have a chance to do whatever it is they're gonna do (they are so vague on the whole national security thing. All I've heard is "We'll do it better than Bush!") and at work I'll finally be on offense instead of defense. Now I can be the one to complain about the eneptness of the current Congress! So you see, good can come from all things.