Cheeze

This just in: The Daily family picture. In fact, the last Daily family portrait of 2010. This was taken on New Years' Eve in front of our favorite Chinese restaurant, where the original Dailys have been eating since childhood, and where, one by one, we have introduced new or soon-to-be Dailys.

It's kind of a precious practice, if you ask me.

Anyway, despite the fact that it was fah-ree-zing (as you can tell), we had to take the pic because

• A) the Christmas season is often the only time each year we get together for a portrait (the term portrait being used loosely here, of course)
• B) it's tradition.
• C) we have a new Daily who wasn't here last year!

So, without further ado, let's analyze the photo, shall we? Yay!

Okay:

1. Belle (far right) = the cutest papoose baby I've ever seen in Kansas. It is difficult not to squeal upon viewing this.
2. I messed up the picture. Hair in the face. Really, Bailey?
3. Caitlin (5th from right) is posed for an engagement picture, except that she has her hands on me, not her fiance. However, her fiance and I have duplicate faces, so whatevs.
4. Her fiance (4th from right) has his hair parted like a little boy/conservative businessman.
5. I think Kelly (far left) is holding Jenny's purse. As in, he was probably trying to put his hand on her torso, but got a handful of handbag instead.
6. While the rest of us are either wearing a scarf, hugging herself for warmth, swaddled in a protective blanket, etc., JENNY (3rd from right) is wearing sandals AND sunglasses. Also, she looks entirely unaffected by the temperature. Seriously, people, it was not comfortable. I'm smiling, but my mind was on getting my butt in a heated vehicle. Immediately.

Other than that, I have nothing else to say except how cute we are. Duh. Good work, Dailys. See ya next Dec. 31st.

Bridesmaid Bailey Ross

Yesterday I was honored to be in my dear friend Anastasia's wedding. Stace and I were roomies in college. She found herself a precious little cutie pie, Rick (who she spotted with her little crush-laser eye in the sixth grade--yeah, she knew what she wanted at an early age), and I am truly so happy for both of them. Congrats, you two! All the best, always!

Well they were married on the 4th of July. Yesterday while taking pictures it was discovered that the hook and eyes on my detachable dress straps were showing in the pictures. So I removed my dress for some last minute alterations. Dianne, the PRECIOUS wedding coordinator who I wanted to take home with me, got me started on sewing the straps in place, and then headed off to assist the groomsmen.

So here I was, sitting in my jeans, nylons, and t-shirt, sewing away, when Stace walked into the girls dressing area. Her face was priceless. "Going somewhere?" she asked.

Also, because I was sewing a blue and white dress on the Fourth, at some point someone walked in and asked, "How's the sewin' comin', Betsy Ross?"

Birthday Boy Brad (1 day late)

Okay, Bailey made a big mistake. So yesterday was Brad's birthday!!!!!!!!!! Happy birthday, Brad!!!!!!!! Well I totally intended to make yesterday's post in honor of Brad, and I did not forget that it was his birthday, and I told him happy birthday, I just forgot to make the post all about him. But I had full intentions of doing so. So I know all of you are rolling your eyes at all the Brad talk in every post, but here are some of my favorite Brad memories. An anthology, if you will. This is an extremely abbreviated version, mind you:

One night, after the store was closed to customers, I was in the back doing dishes, and Brad was out front, screaming “My Heart Will Go On.” When he finished his concert, he said, “I am going on tour!”

Another night after we had clocked out, we made a French press of coffee and went out on the patio to drink it together. It was surprisingly cold, so we grabbed all of the sweatshirts that other employees had left behind and layered them on us. Of course, chance would have it, that I threw on the two sweatshirts that were five sizes too big for me, and he grabbed the size three junior girls sweatshirt and vest. “I feel so hot right now,” he said, and refused to switch with me.

I have perhaps a few inappropriate customer crushes, but there is one in particular who Brad likes to make fun of me for the most. Whenever this guy comes into the store, Brad will disappear to the back, and say things like, "Ooh, Mike*, you're so sexy, lookin' good tonight, [etc.]," so that I can hear it through the headset (that we wear for drive thru customers) while I am trying to talk to this guy. I have gotten used to this, so I will take my headset off right away because I cannot keep a straight face while he is saying these things. When said crush takes his seat with his drink, Brad will come out on the floor and pretend to reprimand me, "Bailey, I'm gonna need you to keep your headset on...[eye roll]...Yeah, thanks."

*not his real name

Love you, Braden, here's to many more b-days!

Rescued Flushies

When I was in 6th grade, my class went on two field trips on Valentine's Day. In the afternoon we went to a museum, and as I recall there was a Chinese exhibit. In the morning? We went on a tour of...

the sewage treatment plant.

That's right. On Valentine's Day. That was the day that James brought flowers and maybe a teddy bear to Meryl, even though I had a big fat crush on him. But that's okay, he became my boyfriend in 7th grade, so we're all good now. So back to real sewage, and not my emotional sewage.

Some various memories from the trip: I remember our tour guide showed us some fish that they kept in one of the offices in a tank, fish who were flushed but became the pets of new owners. Rescued flushies, precious. He also shared with us a heartbreaking story about an iguana who was rescued, then one of the workers decided to clean his tank and cleaned it with bleach, so then Mr. Iguana died, and thus one hundred 6th graders cried during their field trip. I remember a circular pool, at one of the final stages when the water is relatively clean, with a horizontal sprinkler tracking over the top of the surface. But y'all know I am telling you about the clean parts. Let's get to the good stuff.

I remember the stench. My favorite, most lasting memory, is a vivid image I have of my math and science teacher, Mr. Morgan, openly smirking amidst the rest of us hysterically giggling 6th graders, observing one particularly large piece of poop on a conveyer belt, recently sifted out of the incoming water flow.

Mr. Morgan was a hysterical person as it was. He used to stand at the front of the classroom as we were doing silent study, shuffling our pages, scribbling answers in our Trapper Keepers. He would rock up and down on the balls of his feet, raising his heels a little and then touching them back to the floor. He would grit his teeth and ask us, "Do you know what I'm doing?...I'm intimidating you."

He had some sort of electric device (people I do not know what it was called), and he would have us stand in a circle holding hands, with two students' fingers on each end of the generator, and then he would wind the crank and a clicking electric tingle would run through us and scare the crap out of me.

His best trick by far, though, was his gas in the can prank. Early in the school year, he pulled out an empty Folgers coffee can, with the lid on, and a hole cut out of the side, toward the base. He took the can over to the gas pipeline that we would use for our bunsen burners and filled it with gas (methane? Again, don't know, not a scientist). Then he took a match or a lighter to the hole. We all gasped in true terror, and then laughed, relieved, when nothing happened. Then class carried on as usual. Eventually, about 20 minutes later, the lid of the can popped off into the air and we all jumped again. We all got a good scare, followed by a good laugh, most especially enjoyed by Mr. Morgan.

Months later he decides to pull the same trick again. We all think we are so cool at this point, we know what's going to happen, "Whatev, Mr. M, go ahead and light that thing, we're not scared." This time, though, after he lights the can, he tells the class we are going to read aloud from our textbook, as a group. This was another one of his favorite pasttimes--group reading. Especially on the days he was bored, I think, and didn't feel like teaching. We would go around the room, paragraph by paragraph, and as it was your turn you would have to stand with your textbook. I really never felt that he was a mean teacher, I don't think he was trying to mock or belittle us. I think he was just trying to have some fun, and it worked because we all thought he was hilarious. So when it was your turn to read, not only did you stand, but you read in a particular manner. Each textbook-reading-class-bonding-session would begin with some added scholarly instruction from Mr. Morgan. In his measured vocal gait he would command us to "read with feeling and emotion." About amoebas. And hydrogen. If anyone got too monotone in their performance, he would pipe up, "feeling and emotion!"

Mr. Morgan always liked to pick on Matt, because he liked him and he was kind of a trouble maker but not a horrible kid; a future heartbreaker. So during Operation Gas in a Can Take Two, he asks Matt to read. Matt hesitantly picks up his book, looks over his shoulder nervously at the can, and we all laugh. He shifts his weight to be able to look at the can while reading. Mr. Morgan says, "please look at your book, Matt," and we all laugh some more.

The best part of this all is, Mr. Morgan never bothered to explain the scientific scenario. Or maybe he did, and I was just so distracted by the hilarity of it all to ever bother taking notes on the chemical reaction. That sounds accurate.

'Cuz now it's time for the Birthday Rap!

Today's my birthday.

Thank you, thank you. :)

Well as you may have (hopefully) noticed, I blundered yesterday and forgot to post. But you will have to excuse me, because I was celebrating Birthday #1, aka Fake Birthday. So far it seems Fake Birthday went better than Real Birthday (although Real Birthday has been fine, honestly, I am blessed and aware of my blessings).

Fake Birthday (to review, Fake Birthday=yesterday) went as follows. Early alarm, sleepy girl, but all this was quickly shrugged off, because I had volunteered to wake up to an alarm to get RILEY FRANCIS, baby bro extraordinaire from the airport, i.e. my birthday present!!!! On the way home from the airport Riley and I had near panic attacks as we stacked more and more miles on the trip odometer and couldn't find a gas station. 310 miles when we pulled up to the pump, usually I refill at 270. Just saying. Then lunch with parents, grocery shopping for party, chores, blah blah blah, then friends and fam at my house for BBQ, cake, and general carrying on. A fine time had by all.

Real birthday (today). Earlier alarm than day before, after late night (see "general carrying on" above), due to early work schedule. Yes, that's right, I had to work, on my birthday, on a Saturday. "Yeah...I'm gonna need you to come in on Saturday..." It honestly wasn't that bad, but there goes the day, ya know? So then I get home and Riley and Mom and I decide to go get pizza and hit up a movie. Well after pizza Ri decides to ditch us (it's okay, he's forgiven), so Mom and I go to the movie, just the two of us.

We went to see Is Anybody There? with Michael Caine. Now, Mom and I both agreed it was a good movie, and Mom said she would recommend it to others, and I wouldn't say it necessarily has a bad ending, but let's just say I was a little unsettled. Now don't worry, I'm not going to ruin the ending for you, but there are just a lot of layers and a lot of emotion throughout the film, and I was very tense during the whole thing because I never knew what was going to happen. So whenever I see a film like that I think, "this better have a good ending or Girlfriend's gonna be mad." (Seven Pounds? Don't even get me started.)

I took an Intro to Theater class my freshman year of college and I remember we learned that Aristotle said that for the theatrical viewer, a play is a form of catharsis. You watch the actors go through a range of emotions, you feel the happiness/sadness/disgust/rage alongside them, and at the end, you are purged. Or something like that--whatever, I didn't write a dissertation on the man. Well Stotty was right tonight. So about ten minutes before the end of the film, there is an obvious scene where you feel, "this is the height, I should grab the tissues now." And you certainly have tears brimming on the lids. But then the scene is over, and ten minutes later the whole movie is over! There's closure (okay so maybe I lied, I realize I am ruining this for you, but I'm only ruining the concept, not the details), but you still feel "I didn't get my chance to cry! You made the scene too short, dammit!"

So then credits roll, Mom starts laughing and apologizing for bringing me to such a depressing movie on my birthday and I say, "that's okay, it was good, but now I need to cry!" And people are wanting to get out of our row, so I am in the aisle, hugging Mom, overwhelmed with unexpected emotion, not quite sobbing, but almost choking because I am so caught offguard by my own tears, arising too quickly for my slower awareness of them.

Anyway. It was a good film. View at your own risk. I wouldn't recommend going on your birthday. But this blog is getting long and I'm not done yet. So THEN, we get home, and somehow I manage to get these tiny tiny but MEGA painful splinters in my hand! Where did those come from??? So whatev, I'm thinking, "work, sad movie, splinters...." But I did have a profound thought as I was picking at my hand with a needle and tweezers, which inspired me to write this, and here it is.

So the difference between splinters and other injuries, bodily nuisances--bruises, scabs, sore muscles--is that you have to deal with a splinter right away. I would say I'm a big fan of instant gratification, but the emphasis there is on gratify. If it's a fun activity, I want to do it right away. If it's not so fun? The word "later" is one I've used probably more than most in my life, right up there with "precious," "holla," "Brad said," "Dibby Wibby," etc. But a splinter? Gotta deal with it. Birthday or no birthday, be it fake or Round Two, you've gotta stop what you're doing, and keep stabbing at the little punk embedded in your skin until it's out. Nothing else comes first. This is a hard concept for me, but one I continue to slowly learn nonetheless. I realize that grass needs to be mowed, bills need to be paid, doctor's appointments need to be made, before I watch America's Next Top Model, or read a whole book, or eat Laffy Taffy and whisper sweet nothings to the cat. Ahh, the first lesson of my twenty-fifth year. Thanks, God. Appreciate it. Thanks for 24 great years, an amazing family, all the people who love me and teach me lessons, kitties, and all your other blessings, day in and day out. All glory truly is to You.