How are you today? I'm superfantastic.

Life Lessons

As learned from the movies:

The road to happiness is paved with contact lenses. - My Big Fat Greek Wedding

If you're not compatible with the man of your dreams, just entirely alter your personality and looks to suit him. - Grease

Marriage and children are the path to the dark side. - Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith

The way to a man's heart is through extremely uncomfortable shoes. - Cinderella

There is no problem that can't be solved with lots and lots of money. - Annie

Stealing is ok as long as you're ruggedly handsome. - Ocean's Eleven and Twelve

Neglect can be a character-building experience for your child. - Home Alone

There's nothing like a massive head injury to fix your marriage. - Regarding Henry

Sooner or later, the rhythm really is going to get you. - Footloose

No matter what kind of cross-clique understanding you may reach, the smart kid still gets stuck writing the paper. - The Breakfast Club

White wine with fish, red with liver. - Silence of the Lambs

Parents are expendable. - Every Disney movie ever

If Celine Dion sings the theme song, it can only end in schmaltz so overwhelming as to cause headaches, vomiting, and possible blindness. - Titanic

People can be conned into spending money on any crap you put in front of them. - Any Paulie Shore movie

And finally, a male interpretation of Top Gun:  If singing You've Lost that Lovin' Feeling worked for Tom Cruise in Top Gun, it can work for any and all men until the end of time.

And now, what gems of personal insight have you gleaned from Hollywood?  Do share.

Wedding Season Kick-Off!

If I tried to write an individual post for each wedding this spring/summer, there would be NO TIME for important revelations such as my favorite cheap fast food establishment.  So in the interest of efficiency, I present this summary of the two most recent events.

First, we had Kristin and Mark's wedding.  Shhhh...don't tell anyone this is the same dress I wore to a wedding last summer.  See, it looks totally different because this wedding was indoors and I could therefore add a sweater.  And instead of straightening my hair, I curled it.  I was lucky that people even recognized me!

The three blondes are quickly running out of novel hair/dress combos for these things!

What's that, Jenny?  All of these brides are younger than me?  That's hilarious!

This was a perfectly nice wedding with a lovely reception.  And there was a dance!  Except that it was all slow songs so nobody much danced and certainly not any of us single girls.  So we left by probably about 9:30.

Not the case at the next wedding.  We were at that wedding past midnight!  12:30, people!  Bethany and Darin got married last Friday in an equally lovely ceremony and hosted a much more single-friendly dance at the reception.  There was YMCA, old Michael Jackson, Vanilla Ice!!!  But of course we first had to endure just a tiny bit of humiliation.  It wouldn't be a wedding without it!

There I was, sitting at the table surrounded by lovely and talented single girls:

When we were accosted by a middle aged married-with-kids guy from church.  Who asked whether this was the wild single girl table (woooo! we replied) and then he very earnestly said, "You know you're all on this path right?  This will happen for you soon."  And then we all stared at him, dumbfounded, and exercised considerable restraint.  For example, none of us said "What?" or "How the hell do you know?" or made obscene hand gestures of any kind.  Because just what any 30-ish single girl needs while sitting dateless at a wedding reception is a really patronizing pep talk.

Then we ate dinner and the dancing began with the traditional first dances followed by not one but two couples dances.  Yes, all of the couples were invited onto the floor for a couples dance!  Followed by another one!  But the sitting at the table during those was not nearly so sad as the long single-file walk of shame back to the table when we had all been dancing and then a slow song came on.

But really, we all did have quite a nice time.  Including Jon, who thankfully (or unfortunately) did not go through with my dare to lick the Cinderella-themed ice sculpture:

And now I have no more weddings until June.  And I swear on my favorite black shoes, if you leave me a comment about how I'll find my future husband when I least expect it or as soon as I stop looking, I will personally come to your house and kick you in the shins.  Fair warning.

The Finer Things

I go to a very small church.  So small, in fact, that there is currently one other single person around my age attending.  So what were the chances that this person, Erin, and I would have astoundingly many things in common?  We're both trying to get businesses started and both lack self-discipline in that area.  We're both introverts and therefore understand the impulse to hide in a corner or just entirely avoid situations involving new people.  We both have degrees that we are in no way using and both have to occasionally talk ourselves out of pursuing more stable and lucrative yet soul-killing office jobs that we know we will hate.  And we both tend to be pretty liberal when compared to our Christian peers.

Not to say that we are alike in every way.  Erin is a morning person while I am a night owl.  She is a professional organizer, while my organizational system is more of a "wait, I know it's here somewhere..." type program.  Erin's silver car is a Toyota Corolla, while my silver car is a Ford Focus.    And Erin recently ran a marathon whereas I...didn't.

All of this to lead up to the three very specific and important shared interests.  The first we discovered when trying to plan a meal together.  Since we're both girls on a budget, we were discussing our cheap fast food options and discovered not that we both like Taco Bell, but that we both LOVE Taco Bell.  Not only because you can eat there for under $2 (although it certainly is a big plus in its favor) but because we actually really like the food.  Now don't lecture me about it not being authentic Mexican food because the thing is, we don't care. 

The second I believe came up while we were dining at Taco Bell.  As near as I recall, we got started talking about the word "shibboleth" and how it's a great word and one of us must have brought up the West Wing episode called Shibboleth.  I imagine that this was done somewhat sheepishly since most people will give you a very strange look upon finding that you know West Wing episodes by title.  Which of course led to a whole "how do we love the West Wing?  Let us count the ways" discussion, which led to the inaugural Taco Bell/West Wing night.  A tradition wherein we first partake of the Bell and then choose a theme and watch appropriate episodes on DVD (Seasons 1-4 since those are the ones I own.)

The first of these nights was a Christmas episode theme and Erin happened to bring along some dark chocolate Moose Munch that she got from her Secret Santa at work.  Did I like dark chocolate?  And hence, we discovered the recipe for the perfect (in our opinion) evening: Taco Bell, West Wing, dark chocolate.  We set these occasions up though very enthusiastic emails containing many exclamation points!  To convey our excitement over Taco Bell!  Dark Chocolate!  And West Wing!!!   Since the night o' Christmas episodes, we've also had a night of Josh and Donna moments and, last night, a C.J. theme.  Next up: Charlie!

Yes, I have impeccable taste in food and entertainment.  And friends.

XOXO

Dear McDonald's,

What's the deal with the Shamrock Shakes?  More specifically, why did you allow me to grow up with unfettered access every March only to yank the proverbial rug out from under me once I left the frosty confines of the Dairy State?  My first March in Northern Virginia, I thought "Hey!  It's March!  I will take my co-workers to the McDonald's drive-thru for the refreshing minty goodness!"  Because some of these people had not even heard of Shamrock Shakes, which I found difficult to believe.  But Vicki knew of the Shamrock and she is from Tennessee, so clearly this was a nationwide phenomenon.  So we went to one McDonald's and they had no idea what we were talking about.  Same thing at the second one.  What, I ask, is the deal?  I sort of assumed after that experience that the DC metro area was a shamrock-free zone until I read this and learned that apparently in Maryland you can get as many as you want!  I was shake-shopping on the wrong side of the Potomac.

And then I gave you another chance this year to prove to me here in San Antonio that McDonald's will live up to your it's the same life-endangering food of dubious quality everywhere you go promise.  So Amy and I went, on St. Patrick's Day no less, and stepped forward to order said shakes.  And the counter worker person had no earthly idea what we were talking about.  It was as if we had just ordered some McSushi or McCrack.  Which might also have been satisfying, but was equally unavailable. 

So McDonald's, it's really just the once a year anymore that I even darken your door (or drive-thru) and if you are interested in getting my annual $1.95, I strongly suggest that you address this shake-related geographic disparity issue ASAP.  Well, by next March anyway.  Get a move on, Ronald!

your once (and future?) customer,

Lori

Even more outstanding ideas!

I have come up with yet another brilliant idea sure to wow the Internet!  A David’s Bridal punch card!  Buy 9 frou frou dresses, get the 10^th one free!  We’ll call it the Let’s face it, no matter what The Bride says, you will never be able to get any more wear out of this seafoam monstrosity card.  Membership in the club also ought to earn you a 10% discount on matching shoes.  Perhaps we could even work with salons to offer a French Twist of the Month Club.  All of these perks would come in SO handy for the woman such as my sister who, in the months between October 2005 and August 2006 will have been in 5 weddings.  That’s royal blue, ivory/black, celadon (light green), black, and purple dresses, for those of you who may be interested in purchasing such a second-hand gown.  I bet they would be very reasonably priced, come September.  She also has red and lavender from previous events that she may also be willing to part with.  Unfortunately, my navy blue, cranberry, and periwinkle gowns are no longer in my possession. (I am clearly MUCH less popular than my sister.  And yet also at least $1,000 richer, working from a conservative estimate of $250 per wedding to include dress, alterations, shoes, hair, gifts, shower costs, etc.)

And now that I’ve brought it up, SHOWERS.  I firmly believe that if you are single and 30, you get a shower.  You register and people have to throw you a party and buy you nice things.  Because by your 30^th Birthday you have stocked everyone else’s kitchen and linen closet with things that you could never afford to buy for yourself and it is time to exact a little bit of payback.  Additionally, my friend Jennie had the brilliant idea for a menopause shower.  If you’re childless and hot-flashing, you get a shower!  And all of the friends for whom you have bought multiple baby shower gifts have to buy you things.  From Tiffany.  Ok, I added the Tiffany part, but I don’t think Jennie would argue.

And finally I close with this thought-provoking quote from an email I got a few months ago and have been trying to figure out a way to insert into a blog post ever since:

Things with the boy are good. A little embarrassing, if anything. I mean, to about face from bitter/single Sharon into couple Sharon so quickly. I feel I haven't been true to my roots. Like a rap star who finally makes it out of the ghetto without looking back. I look back alright, and I try to remember that I hate people like me, but it's of little use. Perhaps, like the rap star, I will just have to build something for the peeps I left behind to satisfy my guilt. Perhaps a playground for the next generation of couple haters. No see-saws, or any other ride that requires two passengers.

Brilliant!

Found poetry, whitehouse.gov

These words and phrases appear just exactly as I will type them, just with other words around them to make them say different things.  So without further ado, I present your streamlined administration news:

How George proposed to Laura.  Awwww…

  said,

commitment

       we

That was a free nice one.  In preparation for this:

Bush

way,

     got

oil to keep

Lori!  That was mean!  Hey, they posted this stuff on their own website:

   They’re

my Cabinet

(Laughter)

Why would I piece together poetry critical of someone who would (sort of) say this:

women and

democracy

for distribution

Maybe those signs go up wherever this happened:

Two weeks

      in that country

oppressed its people

Perhaps because it was populated by these terrifying creatures:

  purple

people have

         shape

and anger

Reassuringly, some things stay the same:

American

   Hilton

free

     of change

The First Amendment...and YOU

I recently read about a study which showed that most Americans can name more Simpsons family members than rights afforded them by the First Amendment.  Unfortunate, but not surprising.  A good percentage of those people named the right against self-incrimination as a First Amendment right, which makes me wonder why they think people refer to it as "taking the fifth."  Do they think it's the fifth right in the First Amendment?  But what really appalled me was the fact that more than one person thought the right to pet ownership was included in the First Amendment.  I'm sure your dog, cat, or alternative pet is delightful, but the founding fathers did not see fit to protect your right to possess him/her/it.  Just so we're all on the same page, allow me to clarify just which rights we are in reality dealing with:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, nor prohibiting the free exercise thereof; nor abridging freedom of speech or of the press, or the right of the people peaceably to assemble and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

If I haven't matched the original capitalization or punctuation exactly, it's because I typed that OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD.  Yes, I have friends and roommates who devote time to memorizing Scripture, and I have chosen instead to commit to memory the First, Second, and Fourth Amendments (also many 80's song lyrics, but that was not so much a conscious choice.)  While I haven't memorized the exact text of the others, I know that the Fifth has to do with self-incrimination, the Eighth with cruel and unusual punishment, and most of the others with trials and legal rights of various sorts, except the Third, which frees us from being forced to quarter soldiers in our homes.  I think I speak for most of San Antonio's single women when I say that we would gladly submit to such a program, given that we were allowed to pre-screen the soldiers (or more likely airmen) in question.

I should mention, in my defense, that I wrote out the First and Fourth Amendments several times in marker on flipchart paper for the purpose of indoctrinating educating high school students about Constitutional rights and their practical applications.  (Not so much with the Second--it's just short, and therefore easy to remember.)  After writing them a few dozen times, they tend to stick with you.  I'd teach on court cases based on Fourth Amendment search and seizure provisions, or on the First Amendment, censorship, and student rights.

[Hugely geeky and somewhat embarrassing note: Mary Beth Tinker, of the Tinker v. Des Moines case, in which the Supreme Court upheld her right to wear a black armband to public school in protest of the Vietnam War, spoke to the staff at the civic education organization where I worked, and she was treated like a rock star.  Seriously, a guy I worked with SAVED HER WATER GLASS.  I mean, she's no Tim Russert, obviously, but it was still terribly exciting for a bunch of huge civics nerds.]

One week, we were traveling with 100 or so high schoolers to Colonial Williamsburg (slogan: High schoolers hate it!) and once there needed to offer Amendment-themed workshops to the kids, preferably with snappy titles.  Javier titled his Eighth Amendment cruel and unusual punishment/death penalty workshop Do You Really Want to Hurt Me? which inspired all of us to choose the song titles of our youth.  We had First Amendment-related freedom of religion titled Like a Prayer, freedom of the press and evolution of the media titled Video Killed the Radio Star, and free speech titled Our Lips Are Sealed.  If there were more, I can't remember now.

See, civil liberties can be fun!  And involve Madonna and the Go-Go's!  Plus things which are important, such as your right to practice religion of your choice or none at all without the state making that choice for you.  That's a good one!  And that free speech and press thing!  The Constitutional hits just keep on coming!  I bet you didn't even realize that you had a Constitutionally guaranteed right to assemble (peaceably, of course) AND to petition the government.  You have all sorts of rights!

So look into it, America.  You'll be glad you did.  Also, the Simpsons are: Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa, and Maggie.  Who said it had to be either/or?

Big Brother is Reading

No, not the Federal Government!  My literal big brother, Dan.  And he left me this comment:

I realize that getting a comment from your brother, even if it is your favorite one, is considerably less exciting than one from just about anyone else.  That being said, after reading your blogs for some time now (what else do I have to do - look for a job?) I find the complete lack of any mention of me startling.  I'm sure people would rather hear about me than skorts or your lack of swimming caps.  You did, after all, inherit your sense of humor from me.  You should appreciate this  because you know it took me well over two hours to type this much.  Now give me my props.

Let's set aside the fact that he was previously mentioned here, here, here, here, and here.  I will write an entire post about my brother!  That thing about the typing is true.  Fact #1 about my brother: he types with two fingers.  It takes FOREVER.  Other random facts: he is 32 years old, actually likes to watch baseball, has a baseball card-related website, has really terrible taste in movies, and enjoys many processed snack food items.  What's that?  You want to see a photo of the three of us with funny hair?

At the risk of making this post-about-my-brother once again all about myself, check out my bangs!  The height!  What you can't see is my pony tail o' spiral-permed locks.  While Lisa is doing an early 90's bob with side bangs.  And Dan still had all his hair!  We Graham kids rocked Parker High School's 1992 graduation!

See how it looked there as if we actually liked each other?  Well, we didn't.  By high school it wasn't too bad, but the early years were mostly rough.  Sure, we played a lot of Star Wars and G.I. Joe together, but there was even more time spent playing "Dan practices WWF wrestling moves on his little sisters."  Or "you stand in the driveway while I ride my bike up the hill and then back down, achieving breakneck speed before riding dangerously close to you."  Or "I'm going to sit on you until you give me this chair so you might as well just give it up now."  It's thanks to Dan that I learned how to get out of a half-nelson and stopped biting my nails just to have some sort of weapon for my defense.

As Amy suggested in her comment on Dan's comment, no discussion of the Graham childhood/sibling relationship would be complete without a mention of the Tessmer kids.  Our lifelong friendship was forged on the playground of Washington Elementary School when a group of boys playing Star Wars found themselves in need of a Chewbacca.  Jim Tessmer, being the tallest kid on the playground, became Chewy to my blonde brother's Luke Skywalker.  (One thing Tessmers have on us Grahams: height.  Our average height of 5'9 pales by comparison to their collective 6'1.  Also, Tessmers are much craftier.  In the sense that they make things, not in the sense that they are in any way diabolical.  Although if they were truly crafty, in the wily sense of the word, I suppose we'd have no idea.) 

We girls probably met around the age of 5 at one of our brothers' Cub Scout softball games.  Our parents became friends, and the five of us sort of wound up de facto siblings.  Which meant that we were not only able to play together, but also felt comfortable being total jerks during games of Encore (Dan) to the extent that a child from the other family (Amy) felt comfortable throwing a timer at us.  Here's a picture from a few years ago featuring Dan, Jim, Amy, and Lisa in a heartwarming display of pseudo-sibling affection:

I'm not pictured, having already left the Frozen Tundra for DC.  Anyway, two and a half years ago, my brother got married, bringing a stranger into our little gang.  Fortunately, we discovered that her own skill at and enjoyment of mocking Dan matched our own.  So we liked her immediately.  Welcome, Dawn!  Perhaps we girls could get together to play Cabbage Patch Kids or Barbies, just so you won't feel that you missed anything.  Then we will throw things at Dan!

Of course, the picture of me with good Sarah Jessica Parker photo-inspired hair (far left) would turn out extra-blurry.  Anyway, back to Dan, who now lives about 10 minutes away and sometimes makes me dinner.  I hope you've enjoyed your very own post/photo montage!  So...when are you cooking again?

At least no one can blackmail me with these photos now that I've gone ahead and posted them my own stupid self

Not cool, Emily!  Yesterday, Emily of Not That You Asked (don't even pretend like you're not already reading it) wrote a little post where she divulged a little fact that I shared with her about my Christian adolescence.  Yes, ok, I was a member of the Koinonia Singers, Southern Wisconsin's premier teenage Christian singing/dancing/skit-performing troupe.  And yes, there were OUTFITS!  Let this be a lesson to all of us--never share potentially humiliating information with a fellow blogger.  Or take Melissa's approach: start all such statements with "this is off the record..."

So now I am feeling tremendous Internet pressure to cough up the goods, namely pictures of me engaging in Koinonia performances.  Which is no problem since I have a scanner!  A scanner which has made it so far as to have been unpacked from the box since Christmas!  And no farther!  And since tonight I'll be celebrating my roommate Holly's Birthday (Happy Birthday, Holly!) and tomorrow I'll be cleaning the house and baking for day 2 of the celebration, there is NO TIME for scanner hooking-up and figuring-out.  So I took digital pictures of my pictures and although they are mostly blurry, I feel strongly that this is one of those times when blurry is very much my friend.  It was the mid-90's, people!  So these looks are not entirely my fault!

First, a bit of background.  I was a part of a Campus Life youth group, which, during the summer did a 10 day tour as the Koinonia Singers.  No actual talent was required to be a part of this group (hence, my involvement.)  We'd spend a couple of months practicing (for there was much choreography to learn!  And skit lines!) and then do a 10-day tour of Wisconsin, sometimes getting as far as Upper Michigan!  Or Iowa!  This tour involved a lot of time on a school bus and nights spent on church floors, in camp cabins (and I use the term "cabin" in the loosest possible sense) or in the homes of church members.  So there was a lot of washing of hair and shaving of legs happening in church kitchen sinks.  And there were a lot of fun non-performance activities, some more advisable (read: less life threatening) than others.

Now on to ill-advised 90's fashion!  Here, I am sorry to say, is a picture of the costumes chosen for my first year on the trip, namely 1993.  When we wore imitation Cross Colors outfits.  Yes, it's true.  White suburban Wisconsin teenagers dancing around to Michael W. Smith wearing this:

Ummm...yes, that is me in the yellow shorts there.  And imitation Keds, obviously.  Here we see a bit of audience-interaction fun! 

And here we are performing the song that  is perhaps now my least favorite song of all time: Big House.  Except the "we" here does not include me.  See that empty box?  That's where I would have been dancing (and wearing craaaaaazy sunglasses to indicate, apparently, that this song was too cool for eyes!) had I not sprained my ankle very early in the trip.  But I was dancing on it again a few days later, because there is no "ow!" in TEAM.

A photo of us performing this same number at a later date shows us executing a move that apparently called for us to put our arms straight above our heads.  Because that is what everyone is doing, except me.  I have my arms up to about ear level and couldn't apparently even be bothered to execute halfway decent jazz hands.  This lack of commitment is probably the reason for the early end to my career in musical theater.  Oh, and I CAN'T SING!

Here we have a photo of my personal favorite moment in Koinonia history.  This is our final show, after our triumphant return, performed for all of our friends and family members.  The skit calls for Jesse to say "Go ahead, make my day."  My mother captured the moment just as Jesse realizes that he has instead said "Go to hell" in front of everyone, yet Pam and I (sitting on the box) have not yet reacted.  Yes, my mom is quite the photojournalist.

Hmmmm...an extra-blurry photo of the year that we wore jumpers.  Coincidence?  You make the call!  Here you (sort of) see me on the right singing my duet with Heather.  My strategy here was to sing very quietly since Heather was actually a good singer.  So really what you see here is Heather doing a solo on the Steven Curtis Chapman classic "You are a Treasure" and me basically lip synching.

And finally, I present the year of the vest and skort!

Skorts which, in hindsight, turn out to be really inappropriately short!  Here we see me (far right) performing in a skit.  What can that be around my wrist?  Could it be a great big scrunchy?  1996, people!

So there we have a visual history of my career in Christian music-vangelism.  I've left out the more interesting pictures (and by "interesting" I of course mean "self-incriminating.")  I hope you enjoyed this trip down memory lane as much as I did!

Note: My email has apparently started screening my messages without my knowledge or consent.  So if you've written to me recently and not heard back, it could be that I never got your message.   Ha!  I was not just slacking!  Well, in most cases.