Old School Quiz

Hi kids. I made up a quiz. It's mostly from stuff I wrote over two years ago, so if you followed FizzyBlueSoda or read Mosaic Life way back when, you should do just fine. Otherwise the facts will seem a bit obscure. But try it anyway, cuz c'mon, do you really have anything better to do? Didn't think so. Here you go:

Less Traffic, More Protein

No traffic today. Got to work 10 minutes early, as usual. I listened to Weezer on my iPod, because it's good mood sort of music. Yesterday I could only stand very gentle, calming sort of music, like Garden State Soundtrack, Death Cab for Cutie, etc.

Now on to the subject of breakfast, because I know you're really excited to hear about it. I've tried drinking Naked Juice's protein shake before, but it was pretty gross. The taste was okay (banana coconut) but the texture was grainy, scratching my throat on the way down. On the plus side, I only drank half the bottle and felt full. Today I tried Bolthouse Farms' protein drink. I was pleasantly surprised. It tastes great! In fact, it tastes like eggnog. It's actually a blend of chai tea and soy protein. I was a little hesitant to try it because of my experience with the Naked Juice version, but I'd read that it's best not to consume too many carbs early in the morning because that can affect how much you eat for the rest of the day - you start out with a lot of sugar and you get hungry faster. So I decided I needed to consume protein so that I'd feel full longer. I'm really happy that I found a source of protein that I actually enjoy drinking. Yay!

And Not a Moment Too Soon

Did I mention that gas is $2.09 here? The better to fuel your stolen car with!

(That makes four blogs in one day! That's a record for me. Remember, it's quantity, not quality, that matters.)

Ro! Sham! Bo!

So I've taken to stealing Brandon's car. It's easy when you wake up earlier. Generally he doesn't realize I've done this until he actually has to go somewhere, and that's rare, since he works from home and we live on campus.

I have good reason, though. My car is getting older and is past its prime. His Nissan is only two years old, practically a toddler compared to my withered geriatric Honda. Plus, my car is a manual. Do you know what it's like to sit in stop-and-go traffic with a stick-shift? In high heels? I didn't think so.

Today Brandon met me for lunch, and he complained about having to drive my car. I smiled and announced that his car was now mine. He challenged me to a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors for the right to switch cars for the rest of the day. Best out of three. First round, my rock smashed his scissors. Second round, my paper was covered by his rock. Third round, my scissors cut his paper. Needless to say, I won, and should be considered a formidable opponent in Ro! Sham! Bo!

I like my new car. :)

Dark Movies

I like this game. The art is kind of cool, barring the giant m&m's. I've gotten 20 movie titles out of 50, and I'm not terribly confident that I'll find many more.

Too bad I'm not a fan of dark chocolate. This is nice advertising.

Deep, Cleansing Breaths

I got stuck at that same redlight for twenty minutes today. It was okay, though. I stayed calm. I realized that I'd done my part by being on time, but fate decided I should be late. So I listened to calming songs on my iPod and took deep breaths. I must remember to make a playlist for days like this, when I need to be calmed and soothed.

But seriously, Atlanta, what gives? Is it that senators don't use that intersection and get stuck at redlights for twenty minutes? Is it some sort of ongoing psychological experiment to find out if the citizens of Atlanta live shorter lives due to the stress from infuriating traffic? What is it?

I remember the most negative comment I got when I told someone that I was moving to Atlanta.
"Of all the cities, I hate Atlanta the most."
At the time I thought, wow, thanks for the encouragement. Now I think I understand. Don't get me wrong, the city has its merits. And I know I complain about it a lot, but I'm just getting used to it all. I do like the architecture around here, old and new. I do like how blue the sky is sometimes, different than the blue skies that blanket California on nearly any given day. I'm sure I'll like the fall, because even now a few trees are changing colors, giving me a preview of the next season. And I like my job, for however long it lasts (I'm working temp).

This weekend Brandon and I are spending the weekend with my family. I like that we can do that now more than once a year. So maybe I'll grow to love living here. At least while we're here, anyway.

The Real Thang

Since I'm on the subject of soda pop (I like saying "soda pop" because it sounds totally yankee, so you must realize when I write it, I'm actually saying soh-dah pap) I thought I'd tell you one of my favorite nursing home stories. See, when I was in seventh grade, my grandpa lived in the nursing home because his recurrent strokes had rendered him unable to care for himself, suffering from impairment quite similar to Alzheimer's disease. My mom and I would visit him weekly during this time. Since he wasn't terribly aware of his surroundings and generally seemed content in whatever his view of reality was on most visits, I saw it as more of an adventure than something to dread. He called me Linda (my aunt's name) and I played along, figuring that since he liked both of us there was really no point in correcting him.

Anyway, there was this old lady at the nursing home who usually parked her wheelchair in the tv room (or was parked there by someone) and carried on her usual routine.

Old Lady: Coke! (clap) The real thang! Popeye the sailor man - toot toot!
Coke! (clap) The real thang! Popeye the sailor man - toot toot!
(Repeat for the rest of the day)

I wondered what had caused those two phrases to embed in her mind so that in her senility, she could only repeat an advertisement and a cartoon reference. I wonder what I might say, should I end up in such a state. Well, there is Sprite's new slogan, shortened from "obey your thirst" to simply, "obey." And I do watch a lot of Aqua Teen Hunger Force. So perhaps my mantra shall be something along the lines of...

Senile Old Me: OBEY! (Clap) Meatwad make the money, see? Meatwad get the honeys, G.
OBEY! (Clap) Meatwad make the money, see? Meatwad get the honeys, G.
(Repeat for the rest of the day)

Yeah, definitely gonna scare the whippersnappers. At least it'll give them something to blog about.

Drinking Problems

It takes about three weeks for me to get used to drinking diet sodas. During that time, the after-taste is excruciating. But I have to get through it and persevere because I seriously don't need the calories from real sodas. And after I'm used to diet, regular just tastes syrupy. Which is nice, the whole not liking the taste of 150 calories in a can thing.

I know you're interested in hearing about what I drink. So I'll continue.

I'm now trying to stop drinking diet soda. It's a long process where the end goal is to just drink water or tea. I'm not so much worried about the caffeine (oh, sweet nectar that keeps me awake during that 2 o'clock drowse) as I am concerned that the chemicals in soda are bad, just plain bad. It's not as hard to quit as one might think. Now that I'm more used to chugging water and tea, I'm grossed out by how much more I burp when I drink carbonated beverages. And the bubbles burn when I swallow. It's weird to have this aversion to soda, since I've been drinking Pepsi as long as I can remember. I remember thinking that a classmate was weird because her mom wouldn't let her drink anything with caffeine in it. Caffeine had no effect on me. It didn't keep me awake, as far as I could tell. And my throat had become calloused, so it didn't burn when I drank soda.

The only problem is that when I get combos at fast food restaurants, bottled water is often not an option. And I'm cheap, so I'd rather drink a diet drink than waste money that I've already paid for a medium drink by getting water.

Right now I'm sipping green tea. It's slowly waking me up from my afternoon slump. It's sweetened with Splenda. Splenda. I hate that name. It makes me think of the Jersey accent, perhaps the most formidable of them all. I say this with the southern accent and yankee Wis-CAN-sin accent in mind, too. So you know I mean it.

Bad Timing

Since I've already blogged twice today, I figured I'd blog again. This just might be the most blogs I've ever done in one day.

Anyway, I was looking at Stuff On My Cat while covering the front desk, mainly because I have little else to do up here when the phone's not ringing, when a guy from IT just so happened to walk behind me. Yup, and I was looking at a picture of a cat with a saddle on his back. This picture, to be precise.

You know that new girl? She's got this thing for cats...with saddles.

Maybe I should also tell him that I read books about cadavers. Hello, I'm a total weirdo.

Fooseball is the Devil

While making the usual chitchat with the Fedex guy (while I covered the front desk for the receptionist's lunch break), we did the usual Monday talk which consists of lamenting the shortness of weekends and the drowsiness that always accompanies Mondays. Then as he walked toward the door, he said, "Gonna go home and watch the game tonight?" Before thinking, I laughed and said, "Yeah. Totally."

Note to self: not everyone hates sports. Gotta manage that sarcasm.

The Water's Fine!

At church yesterday we sang "Down in the River to Pray," which I recognized from Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? It's a lovely song, and I was surprised at how much the singers and the congregation sounded like the original song, but I couldn't get past the image in my head of Delmar galloping into the water to get his sins warshed away. You know, it took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out that they named their band "soggy bottom boys" because Pete and Delmar were probably still wet from their baptisms.

So far we like the church we've been attending. The people seem nice, the sermons haven't been blasphemous, and we enjoy receiving communion weekly. I have very few reservations. One reservation is that the rate of procreation there is a bit disconcerting to me. It almost seems like babies are fashion items, one attached to every hip. And if the hip is lacking a baby, the belly has a bump that promises one soon. I'm not against children. Seriously, I think kids are great, and I don't hate them. It's just that I react to the thought of children the way that I imagine men who fear committment react to the thought of marriage. I get that feeling like I'm slightly hyperventilating. I know this will fade, and someday I'll have these overwhelming maternal feelings that make me think that gosh-darnit, I'm going to populate heaven all by my lonesome, (er, with a little help from my husband) but for now, I'm not there yet. And maybe the sight of such rampant procreation makes me a little nervous. Like I'll drink the coffee and suddenly be pregnant with quadruplets.

I also wonder if our decision to wait to start a family will effect our chances of making friends there. It seems (in general) as though couples without kids have trouble making friends with couples who do have kids, much like single people have trouble making friends with couples. As a friend pointed out, it's like everyone is trying to recruit. If you're not married, they want you to get married, so you can be like them. If you're married but have yet to spawn, they want you to spawn, so you can be like them. And so on.

Why is it that relationships become more complicated the older you get?

And That's the Way I Like It

I was shopping the other day when I heard a song playing that I'd heard before on commercials. But the only part I'd really heard was "and that's the way I like it, and that's the way I like it." Not like "that's the way, uh-huh uh-huh, I like it" but more y'know, updated and poprock.

And then I heard the chorus:

So please
baby please
Open your heart
and catch my disease

Yes, catch my disease. For all that is good and sane, why would anyone ever think that "catch my disease" would make an acceptable pick-up line? Well? I'm talking to you, Ben Lee. Which disease were you going to propose? Because really, girls aren't looking to get a disease. You generally have to trick them into that sort of thing. And if you do, you'll probably get your car keyed and maybe a black eye.

King of the Bookcases

We had another unwanted visitor tonight. Brandon was working on his laptop when he heard a noise behind him. He glanced up and what did he behold but a lizard perched atop the Ikea light on the bookcase, leering down at him.


"Wendy!" He called out, "There's a lizard in here!" He paused. "How do you get a lizard out of the house?" In his genius he grabbed a tea pitcher and a pizza box. To this the lizard simply cast down a look of contempt, and alighted the mini blinds.


That's when I joined forces with Brandon.
"Mwahaha! You are no match for me! I am king! King of the Bookcases!"
I began to pull the cord to lift the blinds while Brandon attempted to coax the lizard into the tea pitcher. The lizard didn't want to go in, even though we'd sweetened the deal by putting a piece of tulip stem and a peppercini in the bottom. He scuttered back onto the bookcase and then down the side. We cornered him with a large picture frame and a stack of books. The King of the Bookcases didn't stand a chance, for we are a formidable team. Tonight, he sleeps in the bushes.

Update: We believe the King might be a Carolina Anole.

Michael C. Carlos Museum

On Saturday Brandon and I visited the Carlos Museum on Emory's campus. The main exhibit that drew us was In Stabiano: Exploring the Ancient Seaside Villas of the Roman Elite, what with Brandon being all into ancient Roman stuff. I found it interesting as well, but I was probably more interested in seeing the mummies in their Egyptian collection.

Here is Brandon standing near some of the early American pottery:


I imagine we'll visit the Carlos museum fairly often due to its location. It was also nice to walk around Emory's campus and admire the architecture.

Since I'm writing about the negative aspects of life lately (see yesterday's post) I thought I'd be fair and write about the positive as well. Of course it's against my nature to be all positive-sounding, but I figured this would round things out.

Yesterday was a beautiful day. The sky was clear, the breeze was cool, and it wasn't too hot. This morning seemed similar. It's the kind of weather that won't allow you to continue rushing about with tunnel vision - it demands appreciation. I think maybe Fall will be here soon, or I hope so anyway. It has always been my favorite season. The leaves changing colors, the cool air, Halloween (candy!) and of course, my birthday. Not being able to really experience Fall in all of its glory while living in California (the changing of seasons isn't as marked), I really missed it. So I'm looking forward to it.

Also for the record, traffic was fine today. It seemed like every light was green on my way to work. Perhaps it's the city's way of asking for forgiveness for nearly giving me a heart attack and a trip to a mental health facility yesterday. Or perhaps it was sheer luck. At any rate, I needed it.

The Blowing Off of Steam

I don't adjust well to change. Yesterday my dad asked me if I liked living in Atlanta as much as I liked living in California. My response was to reassure him by saying that I don't adjust well to change, and then proceed to say no, so far I don't. It's strange, Brandon's adjusted to the change quite well and he's the one who has never lived outside of California. I think it's a guy thing.

I didn't think I'd react this way. I thought it would be comforting to be back with people I understood, who knew that anything wrong in life can be solved by something fried or loaded with sugar. But everything is so different. In southern Orange County we lived in a newer community. Our apartment was less than five years old. Traffic lights had sensors, malls hadn't had a chance to fall from favor due to newer malls being built nearby, landscaping was generally impeccable.

But now I see at least four crazy people a day walking down the street on my commute to and from work, prompting me to poise my finger over my car's lock button, hoping for a discreet way to press it without the crazy person noticing that yes, they appear crazy and I don't want them in my car with me. And the traffic is horrendous, mainly because of the way the roads and stoplights are designed stupid beyond all comprehension. I sat at a redlight for fifteen minutes this morning - one redlight - watching as it turned green time and again while traffic backed up from a redlight maybe 20 feet ahead preventing any progress. I spent that time trying to push those angry feelings back down into my stomach so that I wouldn't give in to the urge to honk and scream
WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS CITY?!

Because at times, I'd really like to know.

Getting All Outdoorsy

Today Brandon and I had set our sights on driving to Stone Mountain, since Brandon has yet to see the glory of Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson and Jefferson Davis carved into the side of a giant rock. However, there was a good bit of traffic on the turnoff, and so we decided to keep driving. To Athens. Why? We weren't sure, but we figured there would be something worth seeing. Indeed there was! The State Botanical Garden of Georgia.

There are beautiful streams and fountains and a few flowers in bloom as well. Here I am all posing in front of a fountain:
And here is Brandon plotting world domination. See? We're quite compatible.
And know what's great? I didn't get bitten by a bug once today. It was nice, too. The botanical garden is quite peaceful and I enjoyed just walking around and exploring with Brandon. Yay for Saturdays.

Eat Mor Chikin!

Brandon and I visited the very first Chick Fil-A in Hapeville right outside of Atlanta. As we drove around to the drive-thru, we noticed there was an ambulance blocking the way. Before they closed the back doors, we caught a glimpse of the person inside on the stretcher. He was clutching a Chick Fil-A bag to his chest.

I'm not sure what was wrong with him or why he was going to the hospital, but I thought that was a pretty good testament to the yumminess of Chick Fil-A. The guy wasn't even able to get himself to a hospital, but danged if he was going to release that bag of greasy chicken sandwich from his clutches.

Nazis at the Alamo

inside the alamo
Originally uploaded by mosaiclife.

I meant to blog about this a while back, but I never got around to it. Anyway, we stopped in San Antonio on our trip from California to Atlanta. We had some time to kill because we were meeting Brandon's sister and she had to drive from Austin, so we decided to go to the Alamo. After all, we're told never to forget it, and how can we manage to do that if we've never seen it in order to forget it? Exactly.

It's an alright sort of place. It's old, and much of it has been renovated. Outside there is a bit of greenery that I might have enjoyed more if the heat weren't baking my very insides, causing the meanness that I usually keep in check to pervade my every word and deed, driving Brandon to find air conditioning for all that is good and holy. "Do you think the Alamo has air conditioning?" I snickered. Glory be, it certainly did! Who knew the indians or other unlucky souls that were forced to build this place were innovative enough to think of central cooling?

Upon entering the Texas Holy of Holies Brandon, in his irreverence for the proud state of Texas, snapped a picture. He was promptly reprimanded by one of the zealous Alamo guides, who was able to stop the deterioration of this magnificent dwelling by not allowing any photos, even those without the flash on. (Oddly, when I reflect on the different museums we've been to, we were able to waltz right up to Van Gogh or Monet paintings and take pictures as long as the flash was off. But the Alamo? Way more fragile.)

While Brandon listened to a guide reciting a lecture that was more boring than... I can't really think of anything more dull, I mean the guy was yammering about how laws were passed and such. Talk about the killings! The gruesome deaths! The bodies that were found beneath the floor just a few feet away, anything! Anyway, so while he was listening to that, I wandered about taking a second look at Davy Crockett's leather vest and some letter that he wrote with his own handwritting, I was followed by one of the guides. I was the only one in the room, so I know he was there to watch me. And I thought as I glanced at the walls where people had carved their names and the fact that they "wuz here" at some point, that I should take the time to reiterate the fact that THEY LOST. This is not a place of victory, people. So. You know. Don't get so uppity over it.

Stuff + Teresa's Cat = Awesome

So I just noticed that Teresa's cat made it on Stuff on My Cat. You can see other pics here as well.

Seriously. I can't wait to get a cat.