I have a pot addiction.

(There are 28 pots in this picture.)

Part of my job as a CaresTeam for the past four years has been meeting and greeting every new resident within their first month in the complex.  We knock on each door and present a gift box of baked goods to them with a welcome card while making sure they know what our upcoming events are and that they don’t need anything or have any questions.  It’s a simple gesture that helps us build relationships and just lets people know that even while they may not know anyone… they matter.  Sunday afternoon Keri and I gathered up our final twenty welcome gift boxes and headed out to meet our last group of new residents.  With the sky dark and threatening to dump on us, we split the boxes in two opting to travel separately this time and meet back at the house.  Less than an hour later, we had both completed all of the twenty visits except for one.

Many of you may have heard me tell tales of ‘creepy new guy’ and his ‘lost’ cat.  If you haven’t, the short story is new guy moves into complex and within the first night loses cat.  I spend two hours helping him search for cat in the dark only for him to find it inside his apartment as soon as I leave.  He then proceeds to start stalking me and knocking on my door all the time to ‘be neighborly’.  I begin to think maybe cat was never lost.  Creepy new guy yells at my favorite munchkins and is just generally creepy with his weird cat on a leash.  As you could guess, our final gift box was for CNG, but after all this time, we’ve learned that for situations like this… we go together.

So CNG lives on the third floor and after delaying the inevitable for more than a few minutes, Keri and I start to trudge up the stairs silently praying that CNG isn’t home.  For this one time, we have prepared to make an exception and not pay him a return vist, but instead plan to leave his prize and run if he doesn’t answer.  As Keri leads the way up the final few steps, she whispers to me that his creepy cat is on the window ledge staring at us.  Both intrigued by this freakazoid cat, we check it out and instanteously realize that not only are CNG’s blinds open but he’s chilling in his bithday suit in a chair watching tv.  Oh, sweet Lord, baby Jesus!!! Now let me just say CNG does not have the body of a god and as he sees us, he hops up out of his chair and in the fractions of a second since I noticed his lack of attire, I am forced into a horrific peep show before my brain can will my neck to turn it for the love of all that is right and holy.  Keri and I were stunned… blinded… with no clue what to do.

Sure, we’d see the guy we call Manties (Man + panties) sunbathing before, but he at least had a speedo on.  This was new territory for us, and before we could react, he had stumbled out the front door wearing a black undershirt that was not only on backwards but inside out so that the tag was flapping under his chin.  Then to make matters even worse, once again my eyes betrayed me as they were drawn down to watch him pull the shirt over his stomach only to realize that we had entered Act #2.  If you thought Act #1 was riveting, well Act #2 took the cake.  Why you make ask… well because it didn’t take long to notice in his hurry to pull athletic shorts on to race outside, he had not pulled them on completely or correctly and well… ummm… yeah, the tip of his penis was peeking out.  I almost lost it.  It took every ounce of self-control within me to not laugh in his face or puke on him.

Oh ,oh, but the story does not end there.  Somehow in the chaos of him running out and us trying to pretend we had not just seen our creepy new neighbor NAKED, he had positioned himself between us and the stairwell, and now because he’s made the effort to dress himself, we should gift with with a conversation.  Uh, excuse me, I don’t want to talk to you with or without clothes!  To top off the most scaring Cares experience ever, he asked us if we wanted to pet and meet his kitty.  (TWSS) In what felt like an eternity of pondering in my head how to respond to such a question without losing my cool or having the cops called on me, I lied and said I we had already been introduced and that Keri was allergic to all cats.    Then with a final prayer I grabbed Keri by the arm, pushed my way past CNG, and hauled butt home.  As soon as we were within the sanctuary of our apartment, we collapsed before dissolving into a fit of giggles.  Of all the reasons, I’ll be sad to leave life as a CaresTeam… you can guess the rest.

It’s been exactly two weeks since the carpentry/telecomm/electric guys began work on my new office/student worker space at the university, and everytime I walk out of my current office and see the progress they’ve made I feel giddy inside. Our fingers are crossed that we’ll be moved in by mid-August and before I have 6,000 students move back on campus expecting support. Of course, there will be countless photos taken of the new space once I’ve moved in with all of my McFarlane figurines and music posters, but for now I thought I’d share the construction as of today.

(Those random pieces of white tape are the remnants of Cory’s body outline in the right-hand corner of the photo. I really need to post the pics of that process here soon.)

TGIS.  I am so ready to go back to work and take a break from this whole packing/moving fiasco.  I’ve thrown six garbage bags worth of stuff away in the past two days, and that’s just the beginning.  It’s amazing what you’ll find when you’re forced to really look at every possession you have in your life and decide what’s worth keeping. My room in four years has become a cave of forgotten memories just waiting to be unearthed.  I’ve laughed at photos of some of the best moments of my life, cried at reminders of those we’ve lost, and thrown everything else in keep, toss, and give away piles. While this purging needs to be done, I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that I might be a packrat.  Hush to all of you who have already figured this out about me.  Admittance is the first step to recovery, right?  I have at least a hundred greeting cards just waiting for the appropriate occasion, and let’s not even begin to discuss the Bath and Body Works and Yankee Candle shelves.

However, this kind of self-evaluation has given me the opportunity to reflect upon the last few years of my life.  No longer am I the wide-eyed 23 year-old girl that I was when I started this post-college journey.  Instead, I’ve grown… progressed… dare I even say, matured. It’s funny. I spent my first four years in Flagstaff learning any and every thing my professors asked of me, Yet, these last four years have been about figuring out who Laurel is, and as I sit tonight staring at blank walls and cardboard boxes, I wonder if you had the chance to sort through my physical things… would you really see me? Would you be able to tell the story of my life? Would you see the woman of today or just the girl I was? I don’t know. But as I close this chapter and open the next one, I want my new apartment to feel like home and for each and every person who walks through the front door to know automatically that Laurel lives there.

What’s that old saying… “It’s always the most chaotic before the clean” or something like that. Today and tomorrow are HUGE moving days as I clear our my bedroom and kitchen. Yet, somehow the state of my room at this moment doesn’t really lead anyone to believe that there’s progress happening here. But, I assure you… it is.

Do you hear that buzzing in the background? Yeah, that’s all of the angry owners of Apple’s new iPhone 3G bitching at customer support because they can’t get their new phones activated. Hmmm wonder who’s gonna win this clash of the titans. My money’s on Jobs. I’ve heard that you can use the thin MacBookAir as a Chinese throwing star. Just an FYI. At least the tech blogs are having fun with it.

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I’ve never been one for email forwards, but I found this one to be quite comical on a non-payday Friday.

George Phillips of Meridian, Mississippi was going up to bed when his wife told him that he’d left the light on in the garden shed, which she could see from the bedroom window.

George opened the back door to go turn off the light but saw that there were people in the shed stealing things. He phoned the police, who asked ‘Is someone in your house?’ and he said ‘no’. Then they said that all patrols were busy, and that he should simply lock his door and an officer would be along when available.
George said, ‘Okay,’ hung up, counted to 30, and phoned the police again. ‘Hello, I just called you a few seconds ago because there were people stealing things from my shed. Well, you don’t have to worry about them now because I just shot them.’ Then he hung up.

Within five minutes six police cars, a SWAT Team, a helicopter, two fire trucks, a paramedic and an ambulance showed up at the Phillips’ residence and caught the burglars red-handed

One of the Policemen said to George: ‘I thought you said that you’d shot them!’ George said, ‘I thought you said there was nobody available!’

In the midst of an intense conversation centered around Barak, bacon bras, and Battlestar Galactica, I asked Mr. Blues what the focus of my musical post this week should be and awaited his usual brilliance.  After less than two seconds thought, he reminded me that I’d yet to talk about the sounds of my musical roots… country music.  Of course, he went on to suggest Cowboy Troy, but I’ll forgive him for that lil slip up because he was right.  After four months of talking about music on Thursdays, there have been no country music posts. Sure, there was a song here and there but nothing substantial.  So in order to rid myself of the shame I feel, I plan on rectifying this issue today.

Growing up in southeast Arizona radio stations were few and far between.  We really only had a couple of options to choose from that didn’t play Tejano and Mariachi music, and all of those English-speaking stations played country.  (Strangely enough, it’s not that different today.) So when I got tired of listening to my parents’ music and the tapes I had managed to swipe from my dad’s Willcox Middle School Student Council Dance collection, country was my only option.  There were even times I was forced to resort to listening to K-HILL AM 1250, the old Country & Western station, out of Willcox because the Contemporary Country station had fizzled into static.  It’s no wonder I wanted to be Crystal Gayle as a little girl.

Even though my circumstances didn’t allow many other musical choices, country music would have still found a home in my soul because of the rich story-telling that takes place in its four minute songs.  Always a sucker for sad songs, hearing ballads like George’s “He Stopped Loving Her Today” and Willie’s “You Were Always On My Mind” solidified my appreciation for this genre.  For most of my school days, we drove anywhere from 25 to 45 miles to school and much of that time was spent listening to the radio and singing along.  Zac loved the honkytonk sounds of Junior Brown and Joe Diffie, while Mom was partial to Anne Murray and Vince Gill.  I, on the other hand, would sing any and every song that came on despite my mother’s horror that her baby was singing about booze and sleeping with someone other than your spouse. Oopsies!

As I dug through my 250+ gigabyte music collection this morning looking for my favorite country songs, I realized that choosing less than 1,000 songs was next to impossible.  I mean my favorite Garth Brooks, Reba McEntire, Tim McGraw, Wynonna, and Brooks and Dunn songs would at least be a hundred songs, and there’s just not enough time or internet for that kind of collection.  So instead, my country music playlist includes a handful of some of my favorite story songs over the past fifteen years.  Maybe you’ve heard them, maybe not.  But to me, these songs showcase exactly what brings be back to my country roots even after I’ve left the land of cowboys, pick-up trucks, and rodeos.  Just remember… you can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl.

George Strait – Run: “There’s a shortcut to the highway out of town. Why dont you take it. Don’t let that speed limit slow you down. Go on and break it.”

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Bryan White – Not Supposed To Love You Anymore: No lie, Bryan White might have been my original musical crush. Awww the teenage years. “Now I’m writing you this letter. And it’s killing me tonight. That I agreed when you believed it wasn’t right. And I couldn’t sleep up on the bed. So I’m down here on the floor. Where I’m not supposed to love you anymore.”

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Trisha Yearwood – The Song Remembers When: “I guess somethin’ must have happened. And we must have said goodbye. And my heart must have been broken. Though I can’t recall just why. The song remembers when.”

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Kim Richey – I Know: “I should fix the lock, feed the cat. Count my blessings, all of that. Get a grip, and get a clue. Get up and forget about you.”

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Keith Urban – You’ll Think Of Me: “It seems the only blessing I have left to my name is not knowing what we could have been, what we should have been.”

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I’ve been back from Canada for almost two weeks now, and let me just say it was the best ResNet conference I’ve been to.  Fredericton was absolutely gorgeous, and its citizens were the most friendly hosts I’ve ever experienced.  I had the chance to attend some really thought-provoking sessions and feel more prepared and enthused to begin another fall semester.  There’s just something to be said about getting to spend five days with two hundred people who do the same work you do, experience the same issues, and just understand.

While I was there I had the opportunity to reacquaint myself with old ResNetters and network with new ones.  I had more seafood (good, real seafood…not the stuff you get in Arizona) than I thought possible and even spent an afternoon on a boat whale watching.  However, due to the fact that the fog was so thick you couldn’t see anything in front of you, we didn’t get to see any whales, but we did get to see puffin, bald eagles, and harbor seals.  Plus, I got to hold sea urchin and a sea cucumber!  Once a biologist, always a biologist.  I could tell a hundred stories, but for now you’ll just have to settle for pictures.

Pictures of Fredericton:
svgallery=fredericton

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I’ve never really been one for throwing parties for my birthday, and to be honest the last time I had a party for my special day I was six years old and it was a horrible experience.  I invited a handful of friends to a picnic in the park and then an afternoon at the swimming pool.  The family friend who was watching us forgot to put sunscreen on me and bring my sandals, so by the end of the day, I had burns on my feet from the Arizona sidewalks and the WORST sunburn of my life.  I was sick for days after and even my mom’s rainbow cake couldn’t relieve my pain. I should seriously scan a picture of my round, freckled bright red face.  It’s so painful that it’s cute.

I was really hoping that this time around at 27 years of age the result of a birthday party would be a bit different, and it was.  I’ve have always known that I have some of the best friends a girl could ask for, but it was proven as a scientific fact at my birthday bbq.  Over thirty friends and family members were able to attend, and I had a blast with every person there.  Zac manned the grill while everyone munched on the food that my mom and I prepared and chatted with each other.  Heather’s house was the best spot for such a shin-dig, and I am forever in her debt for opening her doors to us.  It was laid-back, relaxing and everything I wanted, and just to put the awesome-factor over the edge… I got a Pinky Pie My Little Pony.  Best Birthday EVER!!!

One of my favorite moments in the afternoon/evening was watching so many of my blogger friends introduce each other as their blogging name.  You know you’re a geek when you get to watch your friends put faces to names on your blogroll.  But, that was the cool thing about seeing such a diverse group of people (all of whom I adore) interact with each other.  From my dad searching for bugs with my boss’s kids to the group talking about building a supercomputer, it was heart-warming to see such a physical manifestation of the facets of your life come together so easily at a backyard bbq.  So to each and every one of you who took time out of your Saturday to come help me celebrate… thank you!

The greatest birthday gift ever. Click to see a larger version. Tons of people from my hometown wishing my happy birthday thanks to Zac.

Apparently, they called each other and decided to all wear stripes.

Probably discussing Rifts.

Not only are they dressed alike, but Dad and Eric even sit alike.

The baby brothers.

Mya doing her version of ‘The Robot’.

The girls.

Chicago aka Ryan Adams.

My #1 bff.

While babies love him, everyone else was a lil scared of my dad.

Zac: Captain Grillmaster

Amare is the cutest baby ever!

Still not sure why she was acting like such a lil gangsta.  Her words, not mine.

Yesterday was our final CaresTeam BBQ, and to be honest, it was bittersweet.  For some unknown reason, I couldn’t do anything right and ended up nearly losing my eyebrows and burning the office down.  Then to add insult to injury, it hailed less than an hour before I was supposed to start grilling.  In the end, we had a great turnout, and well… the pictures speak for themselves.

It was so freakin’ smokey.  I swear I’m happier than I look. Click To Continue Reading…

Yes… yes… yes… I’m still alive.  I just haven’t had more than three seconds to sit, breathe, and post in the past week.  Little did I know when I made the pledge to myself to find time to journal my thoughts and happenings of each day that I’d be struggling to prepare for the fall semester at work, finish my last month as a CaresTeam, and move into a new place this month.  Luckily, I had a three-day weekend for the Fourth and found the time to do all three of those things.  As I mentioned yesterday, the new place is coming along, and hopefully tomorrow, I’ll get pictures up of our final Cares BBQ.  My big project at work for the month of June is almost complete (as soon as I submit my team’s report), and my July project is still being fleshed out.  So this weekend… I partied. Well, not really.  However, I did have the joy of having dinner and spending time with my BFF Sarah’s family on Friday and Saturday night.

Four years ago the Goodman family began a tradition of coming up to Flag for the Fourth and getting out of the hellish heat of Phoenix, and this year was no different.  Mom, Dad, Aaron and new gf, Uncle Rich and friend, and Grandpa made the trek north on Friday, and after 18 holes of golf, I met them at Sakura, the local sushi and teppanyaki bar.  After hellos and hugs, we were escorted inside to our reserved table.  Now, I don’t know about you, but I love teppanyaki if for no other reason than the chefs’ obsession with lighting things on fire.  Our chef Friday night did not disappoint in the pyromaniac category, however his striking resemblance to  Sling Blade’s Karl Childers coupled with the fact he repeatedly kept lighting his arm on fire while mumbling things in my direction worried me more than a tish.  Our whole party spent the entire dinner trying to figure out what exactly he was saying and keep anything that was flammable out of his four foot radius of fear.  Seriously, Billy Bob (as I like to call him) was more than a little out of control, and by then end of the mealW we were overwhelmingly relieved to have escaped with our eyebrows and lives.  Shaken and needing something cool to drink, we ended the night in their hotel room while they sipped red wine (plain ol’ pomegranate juice for me) and told stories of our times together.

After the previous night’s escapades, there was really no possible way that Saturday’s dinner could have been any worse, or so I thought.  Catering to their love of Italian food, we met at a local Italian restaraunt in town that I had never been to.  Zac had recommended it highly after dating the niece of the owner, and so I was looking forward to trying something new.  Even though I was five minutes early, I was the last one to arrive and upon being seated realized that my brother’s ex-girlfriend’s little brother was our server. Having been friends with him before the breakup, I didn’t see any issue with this until he refused to speak to me or even acknowledge me.  Oops! After he coldly took my belated drink order, the rest of the table turned to me wanting to know what was going on.  After explaining how I knew him, we continued on with non-awkward conversation and waited for our orders to be taken and our food to come.  Finally, after what seemed like forever, our order arrived and probably should have been sent back.  I hate to say this, but it was horrible.  There was no flavor, and some of it was still ice cold.  We tried to eat it, but in the end, it was just too impossible.  Of course, I was jokingly blamed for the quality of the food, and honestly, I had to wonder.  Still in typical Goodman fashion, we politely left and headed to the 24-hour truck stop nearest the hotel and treated ourselves to ice cream cones… our real dinner.  Something tells me next Fourth of July, they’ll either go to dinner without me, or we’ll have to find a new place.

Thanks to the help of Keri and Lauren, my new place is slowly starting to take shape. Thursday night we did some major shopping and found bedding, lamps, the materials I needed for my headboard. Then, we set my new queen bed up. Oh yeah, I’ve finally graduating into having enough space for a work desk AND an adult bed!!! I am beyond ecstatic about that. It was after eleven by the time we fought the good battle assembling my office chair and new L-shaped desk. I swear those instructions were written by men for men. I also found the perfect dresser for my bedroom and sanded it down today to prep it for painting and new hardware tomorrow. Keri and Lauren put together the nightstands from hell while barely keeping their sanity. I’ll make sure and take some pictures soon to share the progress.

P.S. – Always make sure the first thing three things you bring into a new place are something to drink, a fan to beat the heat, and toilet paper. It’s a lesson I will not forget;)

My mom found this recipe years ago in some Americana craft magazine.  It’s become one of my family’s favorites on a hot day, and I can’t help but make it as often as possible for friends. Chocolate base with a hint of orange and fresh berries on top.  So amazin’.

Red, White and Blueberry Pie

Ingredients:

Pastry for Single-Crust Pie:
·    1 1/4 cup flour
·    1/4 tsp salt
·    1/3 cup shortening
·    1 Tb cold water
·    3-4 more Tb cold water

Filling:
·    6 oz. (1 Cup) semisweet chocolate pieces
·    1 Tb margarine
·    8 oz cream cheese, softened
·     2 Tb freshly squeezed orange juice (squeeze after you’ve grated the rind)
·    1/4 c. powdered sugar
·    1 qt. fresh strawberries with stems removed.
·    1 cup fresh blueberries or raspberries
·    2 Tb red currant jelly *(opt.)

Whipped Cream:
·    1/2 cup whipping cream
·    2 Tb powdered sugar
·    1/2 tsp finely shredded orange peel

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