Okay, I found this great article today about a 17 year old who is the youngest to compete in the tractor pulling circuit. Now, I don't know what you know about tractor pulling (I know nothing), but after reading this article it seems kind of dangerous. Nicole Snyder, along with her father, drive their own design of tractors. Their tractors are special. Instead of using piston driven engines, Mr. Snyder built tractors using 2-3 jet engines. Awesome!
Then I thought, wow, that must be kind of dangerous. And it turn out I was right. They are so dangerous because "each vehicle is so powerful that, if it were not tethered to a weight sled the pull association provides, it would flip violently, most likely killing the driver."
But my favorite part of the article describes the most exciting part of the competition.
"What really impressed the crowd were her flames. Tapping a button at the top of her throttle stick, which resembles the yoke on a fighter plane, Ms. Snyder shot yellow-white flames 30 feet into the air. "
But the whole thing sounds insane and I kinda want to try to drive on of those things.
The article is wonderful and offers a glimpse into a life that most people will never experience. Make sure you read to the end. Her last quote is priceless...and a little depressing.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
Dresses, and Jewlery, and Shoes, Oh my!
I never thought that buying a wedding dress would be emotionally scarring. It is supposed to be such an exciting and wonderful day. However, I made the mistake, and how was I to know, of starting my search at a bridal boutique called Divas (located on Lawndale across the street from the Target). I made an appointment on Friday afternoon for a Saturday fitting at 10:30am. I was extremely nervous and my friend Aimee came along to offer moral support and to take pictures of the gowns I liked. Thank god she was there. It started out poorly. We walked in and I announced I had an appointment. The lady looked annoyed to have to help anyone. She pointed us to a wall of dresses and told us to pick a few out to try. She asked me about my budget and when I responded she walked away. She came back a minute later and said
“Um, I don’t think you are going to be able to find anything in that range here.”
I was a little annoyed by her tone, but was determined to have a nice day.
“Well, I am here, can I at least try a few things on and maybe I will find something I want to splurge on.”
“That’s fine,” she said. And carried a few dresses into the dressing room for me to try on. The dresses were heinous. She hadn’t really looked at me or talked to me to figure out what I liked and the few she picked out were awful. But I tried them on anyway because all of the bridal magazines say you will be surprised when you find your dress. It may not have been what you were looking for. They were still heinous. Aimee had to help me get in and out of them, as the weight and tricky buttons, zips, straps, etc were bewildering.
Finally, I picked out a dress that was just beautiful. I looked at the tag and it was $2899.00. At this point I was starting to feel a little depressed. What if I never find another dress that I like as well? How was I to pay for this? What if I ran out of time? It didn’t help that the ladies at the shop were pressuring me and making me feel bad.
“Oh, you really waited until the last minute. You will have to pay a rush fee to get the dress here on time.”
“Is there anyone you can call to get the extra money to pay for it?”
“You know if you just serve hotdogs at your reception you might be able to use the extra money to buy this dress.”
“You want to look beautiful at your wedding. It really is all about the dress.”
I left there feeling anxious, fat, poor and thoroughly bummed. So Aimee and I went to Target and shopped and I felt better, but when she suggested going to try more dresses on I was against it. I just didn’t want to be treated that way again.
We got back to my house a few hours later and I decided to make an appointment at David’s Bridal for the next day. I had been in there before and had not been impressed. But at this point I was starting to get nervous about “running out of time!”
The next morning my friend Chris joined me with the camera ready and we headed to David's Bridal. We were greeted by a friendly lady who took my information. Then Latora, my personal wedding dress helper met me and we began to pick out dresses. I picked out three and she picked out one. She carried the four gowns (about 30 pounds worth of fabric) to the dressing room and I knew instantly that this was going to be a different experience. She told me to pick out some shoes off the back wall, and she picked out a bustier and a slip and helped me into them all. Then she helped me put on each dress. She said,
“Put your arms up into the air. Now dive into the dress. You have to dive into these things.”
So I literally dived forward into the dress, arms together like an Olympic diver, as she threw the layer of fabric back over my body. It was actually really fun, and diving really is the best way to get into those things.
We tried on dresses, and veils, and jewelry and chatted about our soon to be foreign in-laws (she is marrying a man from Liberia in July) and tattoos, and other fun stuff. Chris took pictures and was wonderful in her honest critique of each dress. It was the second dress, and the one Latora had picked out incidentally, that was the dress I picked in the end. It is so beautiful and I love it.
“Um, I don’t think you are going to be able to find anything in that range here.”
I was a little annoyed by her tone, but was determined to have a nice day.
“Well, I am here, can I at least try a few things on and maybe I will find something I want to splurge on.”
“That’s fine,” she said. And carried a few dresses into the dressing room for me to try on. The dresses were heinous. She hadn’t really looked at me or talked to me to figure out what I liked and the few she picked out were awful. But I tried them on anyway because all of the bridal magazines say you will be surprised when you find your dress. It may not have been what you were looking for. They were still heinous. Aimee had to help me get in and out of them, as the weight and tricky buttons, zips, straps, etc were bewildering.
Finally, I picked out a dress that was just beautiful. I looked at the tag and it was $2899.00. At this point I was starting to feel a little depressed. What if I never find another dress that I like as well? How was I to pay for this? What if I ran out of time? It didn’t help that the ladies at the shop were pressuring me and making me feel bad.
“Oh, you really waited until the last minute. You will have to pay a rush fee to get the dress here on time.”
“Is there anyone you can call to get the extra money to pay for it?”
“You know if you just serve hotdogs at your reception you might be able to use the extra money to buy this dress.”
“You want to look beautiful at your wedding. It really is all about the dress.”
I left there feeling anxious, fat, poor and thoroughly bummed. So Aimee and I went to Target and shopped and I felt better, but when she suggested going to try more dresses on I was against it. I just didn’t want to be treated that way again.
We got back to my house a few hours later and I decided to make an appointment at David’s Bridal for the next day. I had been in there before and had not been impressed. But at this point I was starting to get nervous about “running out of time!”
The next morning my friend Chris joined me with the camera ready and we headed to David's Bridal. We were greeted by a friendly lady who took my information. Then Latora, my personal wedding dress helper met me and we began to pick out dresses. I picked out three and she picked out one. She carried the four gowns (about 30 pounds worth of fabric) to the dressing room and I knew instantly that this was going to be a different experience. She told me to pick out some shoes off the back wall, and she picked out a bustier and a slip and helped me into them all. Then she helped me put on each dress. She said,
“Put your arms up into the air. Now dive into the dress. You have to dive into these things.”
So I literally dived forward into the dress, arms together like an Olympic diver, as she threw the layer of fabric back over my body. It was actually really fun, and diving really is the best way to get into those things.
We tried on dresses, and veils, and jewelry and chatted about our soon to be foreign in-laws (she is marrying a man from Liberia in July) and tattoos, and other fun stuff. Chris took pictures and was wonderful in her honest critique of each dress. It was the second dress, and the one Latora had picked out incidentally, that was the dress I picked in the end. It is so beautiful and I love it.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Wedding Dress Time
Tomorrow is the big day. I have made an appointment and will be trying on wedding gowns for the first time. It should be such an exciting happy time, so what is this feeling of dread, or maybe its anxiety, squirming around in my belly? Part of it could be that I will all by myself. Is it lame to go wedding dress shopping by yourself? Who is going to give me an honest opinion, I can’t trust those shifty wedding dress ladies. They just want a sale. Well, I have done things much scarier than dress shopping; I mean I drove a stick shift mini bus around London for goodness sake. But still, I have been putting this off for months now, and as of today we have 3 months and 21 days to the wedding, so the time has come.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
It's Bonnapoo, not Bonnaroo!
The trip to Bonnaroo and back again was full of little adventures. Sitting in traffic for three hours trying to get into Bonnaroo was not the least interesting of them all. As we waited people were running out of their cars down the banks of the highway into the woods to pee. Men and women, up and down the hill; and then sometimes a roadside “pee”er would get left behind as the cars suddenly started to speed ahead. We would watch the ensuing run with much amusement as the cars would continue to surge ahead, the runner would sprint, then get tired and walk when the cars were stopped and then get left behind again. We watched one girl walk for miles carrying a huge water cooler. I finally saw her with her van when we were waiting in line to get our tickets checked.
The adventure surrounding getting everything from the car to the camp site was exciting. We had too much stuff for all of us to carry, so our friend Evan (who knows no stranger) negotiated with some folks to borrow their wagon so we could load everything up and roll it to the site. They gave him a t-shirt.
The adventure of getting into Centeroo everyday was interesting. Everyone was searched, and anything like open water bottles and glow sticks were confiscated. We had to wait in line forever. See a pattern here yet?
The adventure of enduring the blazing heat everyday kept me very aware of how comfortable my life is normally. 95 degrees in the shade and there was no where to go to get cool. We would jut lie under the canopy and spray water on each other until the evening when it would get cooler. As a result of the heat I didn’t get to see as many bands as I wanted to see. It was too hot to take Bronwen out until the late afternoon. But I did get to see the following (when I say “see” I actually mean I stood at the back of a crowd of thousands and listened to the music and tried to see something): Paolo Niruti, Gillian Welch (who played with John Paul Jones from Led Zepplin), Hot Chips, Lily Allen, The Police, The White Stripes. Other bands that were playing on the main stage I listened to from my tent: Tool, Widespread Panic, The John Butler Trio.
All of those things, the heat, the camping, Centeroo, the great company, the music and the dust will remain as part of my Bonnaroo memories. But the one thing that will overshadow it all, and remain as the main memory (unfortunately) will have to be the porta-potties. By the end of the four days, almost all of our talk revolved about our body functions and the state of the last porta-potty we entered. It is amazing how all conversation (especially when camping) all boils down to what came out, how and when. The porta-potties were kept relatively clean over the four days. Trucks would come in periodically and clean everything out, but when 50,000 people are all using the same toilets, you can imagine…well, you don’t want to imagine, actually.
When we left Bonnaroo, I can’t tell you how excited I was to use a real toilet. I planned on stopping at a gas station, and possibly sitting for awhile in a nice cool gas station toilet. Imagine that, I wanted to go to a gas station toilet? So, I finally had to go and we pulled over somewhere between Chattanooga and Knoxville, and I happily skipped into the gas station to inquire about the bathroom. The very friendly and polite attendant smiled and said,
“Ma’am, just go outside, and around to the back”
Heady with anticipation, I thanked him and headed around the back of the station looking for the door to the toilet. There, to my utter chagrin were two brown and tan porta-potties. I stood there in shock, and I swear the toilets started to laugh at me. I was being mocked by two dirty portable toilets. Argh! An older couple was standing there debating about whether it was sanitary to enter it. I, however, had to go, and resigned to my fate, entered the porta-potty for one last time.
The adventure surrounding getting everything from the car to the camp site was exciting. We had too much stuff for all of us to carry, so our friend Evan (who knows no stranger) negotiated with some folks to borrow their wagon so we could load everything up and roll it to the site. They gave him a t-shirt.
The adventure of getting into Centeroo everyday was interesting. Everyone was searched, and anything like open water bottles and glow sticks were confiscated. We had to wait in line forever. See a pattern here yet?
The adventure of enduring the blazing heat everyday kept me very aware of how comfortable my life is normally. 95 degrees in the shade and there was no where to go to get cool. We would jut lie under the canopy and spray water on each other until the evening when it would get cooler. As a result of the heat I didn’t get to see as many bands as I wanted to see. It was too hot to take Bronwen out until the late afternoon. But I did get to see the following (when I say “see” I actually mean I stood at the back of a crowd of thousands and listened to the music and tried to see something): Paolo Niruti, Gillian Welch (who played with John Paul Jones from Led Zepplin), Hot Chips, Lily Allen, The Police, The White Stripes. Other bands that were playing on the main stage I listened to from my tent: Tool, Widespread Panic, The John Butler Trio.
All of those things, the heat, the camping, Centeroo, the great company, the music and the dust will remain as part of my Bonnaroo memories. But the one thing that will overshadow it all, and remain as the main memory (unfortunately) will have to be the porta-potties. By the end of the four days, almost all of our talk revolved about our body functions and the state of the last porta-potty we entered. It is amazing how all conversation (especially when camping) all boils down to what came out, how and when. The porta-potties were kept relatively clean over the four days. Trucks would come in periodically and clean everything out, but when 50,000 people are all using the same toilets, you can imagine…well, you don’t want to imagine, actually.
When we left Bonnaroo, I can’t tell you how excited I was to use a real toilet. I planned on stopping at a gas station, and possibly sitting for awhile in a nice cool gas station toilet. Imagine that, I wanted to go to a gas station toilet? So, I finally had to go and we pulled over somewhere between Chattanooga and Knoxville, and I happily skipped into the gas station to inquire about the bathroom. The very friendly and polite attendant smiled and said,
“Ma’am, just go outside, and around to the back”
Heady with anticipation, I thanked him and headed around the back of the station looking for the door to the toilet. There, to my utter chagrin were two brown and tan porta-potties. I stood there in shock, and I swear the toilets started to laugh at me. I was being mocked by two dirty portable toilets. Argh! An older couple was standing there debating about whether it was sanitary to enter it. I, however, had to go, and resigned to my fate, entered the porta-potty for one last time.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Bonnaroo!
It’s finally here. Bonnaroo! All the planning (or lack there of) and money are going to pay off and we are going to Tennessee, tonight. After work, we have to buy the booze, fill up the car with gas and head off west down route 40. I was hoping to hit the mountains before it get dark, but I don’t think we are going to make it. Driving to Knoxville is an amazingly beautiful drive. But it will be dark and hopefully Bronwen will be sleeping.
I will try to take notes so I can write blog entries on all bands and events in the order experienced. We’ll see how well I do.
Right now, all I am worried about is the 30% chance of rain everyday and the 90 degree highs forecasted for everyday we are there.
Hooray for Bonnaroo!
I will try to take notes so I can write blog entries on all bands and events in the order experienced. We’ll see how well I do.
Right now, all I am worried about is the 30% chance of rain everyday and the 90 degree highs forecasted for everyday we are there.
Hooray for Bonnaroo!
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Disgusting Stomach Drama: Take Two
The reason why my stomach was hurting at the end of that last post had nothing to do with rereading my disgusting description of the previous evenings event and had everything to do with the fact that I too was to embark on the vomit journey so well mapped out by Piper the night before. I made it home yesterday nanoseconds before I was puking everything that existed in my stomach, ever, into the clear cool depths of the toilet. Unfortunately, that was not the end and over the next 8 hours, I got to do that over and over again, until finally I was able to keep some coca-cola down and I slept fitfully until this morning.
During one of my more disgusting sessions last night I heard Bronwen crying and realized that it was only 7 pm and Dan must be feeding the baby. What would I do if I was a single mother? I mean, I was completely incapacitated. There was no way I could take care of a baby. What do single parents do when they get really sick? It was a sobering, sad thought and I was infinitely grateful at that moment to have an incredible guy in the room next door, lovingly taking care of our child while I threw up every last ounce of hydration in my body.
During one of my more disgusting sessions last night I heard Bronwen crying and realized that it was only 7 pm and Dan must be feeding the baby. What would I do if I was a single mother? I mean, I was completely incapacitated. There was no way I could take care of a baby. What do single parents do when they get really sick? It was a sobering, sad thought and I was infinitely grateful at that moment to have an incredible guy in the room next door, lovingly taking care of our child while I threw up every last ounce of hydration in my body.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Warning: Read only if you have a strong stomach
I am too annoyed to write anything today because I have so many stories backlogged and waiting for the corresponding pictures to go along, but I cannot find the cord to download the pictures from my camera to flickr. Therefore, I do not want to write anything about the great tigers we saw, the crazy wedding in Louisiana, and the massive growth of Bronwen. So I will write a little about our night last night as I have no pictures and after you hear about it you will be glad that that is the case.
Last night Piper decided to throw up all night long, and never once make it to the bathroom. These are the nights that all parents must experience, but are just so heart breaking, tiring and disgusting, you end up feeling very much like the lone pioneer, enduring the first blizzard after settling down on what used to be a beautiful and peaceful, warm patch of land, but now threatens to kill you.
She kept complaining of a sore belly and I just knew that vomit was going to be involved. So Dan went to bed but I stayed up and played Snood while waiting for the puke to arrive. Sure enough it was the loud splashing of liquid squirting all over the hallway that alerted me to Piper’s sickness. I woke Dan and together we cleaned her up, I cleaned the hall and bathroom and then did laundry and went to bed. Later, more splashing in front of the upstairs steps, and then the bed had to be stripped and remade, and then again the hallway. By this morning she was sleeping peacefully and hopefully was able to keep some water down.
Now my stomach is kind of hurting, but I may just be the disgusting description above that I just reread. Sorry about that…
Last night Piper decided to throw up all night long, and never once make it to the bathroom. These are the nights that all parents must experience, but are just so heart breaking, tiring and disgusting, you end up feeling very much like the lone pioneer, enduring the first blizzard after settling down on what used to be a beautiful and peaceful, warm patch of land, but now threatens to kill you.
She kept complaining of a sore belly and I just knew that vomit was going to be involved. So Dan went to bed but I stayed up and played Snood while waiting for the puke to arrive. Sure enough it was the loud splashing of liquid squirting all over the hallway that alerted me to Piper’s sickness. I woke Dan and together we cleaned her up, I cleaned the hall and bathroom and then did laundry and went to bed. Later, more splashing in front of the upstairs steps, and then the bed had to be stripped and remade, and then again the hallway. By this morning she was sleeping peacefully and hopefully was able to keep some water down.
Now my stomach is kind of hurting, but I may just be the disgusting description above that I just reread. Sorry about that…
Friday, June 8, 2007
Books and Looks
Never judge a book by its cover, but can you judge a person by their books? This morning I had a humbling event. I was walking into work, my snazzy heel clicking satisfyingly along the pavement, when I ran into a woman who works for us on the fifth floor. I have spoken with her briefly before (she smokes so it is usually as I am walking by her out of the front door), but I don’t know her name and I have no idea what she does for us. My impression of her, totally based on her exterior, is that she is a nice lady, friendly, maybe a little passive, maybe shy. Not the smartest or highest educated, but not stupid; generally nice. We walked together to the elevator stopped to wait. One of the elevators is broken so it too awhile. I glanced over to her and she was holding a massive book. I looked closer and read the title. Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy.
“What a great book,” I said, “What do you think?”
“Oh, I have wanted to read this for awhile. It is a new translation and it is incredible. I am really enjoying it.”
The fact that I was so surprised that this woman would be reading and enjoying this book made me feel really bad. I had seen her as someone who wasn’t sophisticated or smart enough to enjoy, let alone understand, Russian literature. Then again, just because she likes Anna Karenina doesn’t mean she is a super genius. So, no more judging people by their looks, but I will still have to look at their books.
“What a great book,” I said, “What do you think?”
“Oh, I have wanted to read this for awhile. It is a new translation and it is incredible. I am really enjoying it.”
The fact that I was so surprised that this woman would be reading and enjoying this book made me feel really bad. I had seen her as someone who wasn’t sophisticated or smart enough to enjoy, let alone understand, Russian literature. Then again, just because she likes Anna Karenina doesn’t mean she is a super genius. So, no more judging people by their looks, but I will still have to look at their books.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Bonnaroo: Take One
This past Monday I was in a tizzy. We had gotten home from Louisiana at 1:30am in the morning (see that story below) and the house was a mess and we had two days to get everything ready to go to Bonnaroo. We had to shop for camping supplies, get someone to watch the cats, shop for booze, shop for food, get a list from Kym and Jared about what they wanted us to pick up for them as they were flying in, get the baby ready and packed, clean the house, and somewhere in there go to work, get and oil change and find some time to have Piper over. For anyone who knows me well knows that this sort of challenge brings out the stressed, out yet totally anally organize freak side of Ellie. First things first, make a file and label it Bonnaroo. Then start filling the file: tickets, day by day break down of tasks, shopping lists divided by store, lists printed from the web site, hand written notes of last minute things I remember on the drive home, hour by hour schedule of the day we leave ensuring that all things are packed and ready, packing lists divided by person, it goes on and on.
So Monday afternoon, I was in a tizzy. I had my file but I was having a really hard time getting in touch with Kym. I had read some backlog emails saying she was in NY for a wedding, but didn’t she have her cell phone? Didn’t she have one minute to call me back? I mean we have two days to go!? Finally, on the drive to daycare on Monday afternoon, she answered the phone.
“Kym, hey sorry to bother you, but we don’t have that much time and I won’t keep you long, but how much do you guys want to spend on the food?”
“Well, I was planning on calling you when I got back home on Tuesday, but we can talk now” she said happily but with a hint of bewilderment, “when are you planning on shopping, tonight?”
“Yeah, I want to get everything together tonight so that tomorrow we only have to pack and then we can leave straight after work on Wednesday. I think we will drive to Knoxville on Wednesday night and then drive to Manchester on Thursday morning so we can get to the camp site early.”
“But the festival is not this week, it’s next week.”
“What?”
“It’s next week,” Kym started laughing hysterically, “I thought you we an organized person and really on top of things and that you just wanted to get the shopping done early, I was wondering why you kept calling me, freaking out. You have a whole other week, silly!”
“I am such an idiot…”
So, now I am not in such a tizzy anymore. I still have all the lists, which should be especially helpful in getting everything done on time and done right, but now I just have another week to do it. And deep down in my heart I know, I really would have driven to Tennessee last night if no one had said anything.
So Monday afternoon, I was in a tizzy. I had my file but I was having a really hard time getting in touch with Kym. I had read some backlog emails saying she was in NY for a wedding, but didn’t she have her cell phone? Didn’t she have one minute to call me back? I mean we have two days to go!? Finally, on the drive to daycare on Monday afternoon, she answered the phone.
“Kym, hey sorry to bother you, but we don’t have that much time and I won’t keep you long, but how much do you guys want to spend on the food?”
“Well, I was planning on calling you when I got back home on Tuesday, but we can talk now” she said happily but with a hint of bewilderment, “when are you planning on shopping, tonight?”
“Yeah, I want to get everything together tonight so that tomorrow we only have to pack and then we can leave straight after work on Wednesday. I think we will drive to Knoxville on Wednesday night and then drive to Manchester on Thursday morning so we can get to the camp site early.”
“But the festival is not this week, it’s next week.”
“What?”
“It’s next week,” Kym started laughing hysterically, “I thought you we an organized person and really on top of things and that you just wanted to get the shopping done early, I was wondering why you kept calling me, freaking out. You have a whole other week, silly!”
“I am such an idiot…”
So, now I am not in such a tizzy anymore. I still have all the lists, which should be especially helpful in getting everything done on time and done right, but now I just have another week to do it. And deep down in my heart I know, I really would have driven to Tennessee last night if no one had said anything.
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