How are you today? I loved the letter you sent me. It was a hoot. Sorry to hear about the sinking of “Metrosexual Dreamboat”. It’s sad. But, you’re right, trying to find all those qualities in a man is almost as difficult as a man trying to find all those qualities in a woman. Wait. That isn’t what I meant. I meant to say something more empowering of women everywhere. How about this quote from Rosanne: “The quickest way to a man’s heart, is through his chest.”
Right now the major qualities I’m looking for in a man are “Good Listener” and “Straight”. That’s a tough combination, but it is possible.
This is the email I sent to EVERYONE in my address book:
Ok, I've never done this before in my entire life...I just took a drink of my milk that said it expired on the 17th of April. But April of what year, I don't know because IT WAS CHUNKY!! I am SO GROSSED OUT RIGHT NOW! I spit it out and I drank the rest of my D.P. a bunch of water, brushed my teeth and am still just grossed out BEYOND WORDS! I think I'm going to die a chunky-milk-poisony-death! I am SO GROSSED OUT!!
These are the responses I received:
• That wasn't milk -- that was the plaster of paris for my latest and greatest art project, "Mountains of Kansas." (Bridges of Madison County was already taken . . .)
I expect you to put every drop back where you found it . . .
• Quick! There is only one remedy. Find the nearest cute guy and request, no, DEMAND he give you mouth to mouth. (With tongue.) It will save your life! (Only if it is with tongue.) Ryan
• yes, I noticed a funny smell as I walked to the office today... maybe the milk is rusting your brain...ha,ha. Monika
• Oh poor Maaike, how horrible. I suppose you could think of it as "almost yoghurt". But then again it doesn't taste nice at all. I've done nearly the same thing but my chunky milk went into a cup of tea - yuk. If it helps at all, I'm am feeling GROSSED OUT for you as well.
• Swedes drink Chunky rotten milk all the time. After awhile, one gets used to it. Think of that the next time you eat butter or cheese. It's just chunky milk (with a little tuna fish mixed in). Robert
• I'm sympathizing my watch with yours. I've had the same experience at least twice in my life once with chocolate milk, and once I drank a full glass of sour milk because I was eating a piece of lemon cake with it and I didn't taste the sour milk until the after taste had set in. Yuck!!!!! But that is nothing compared to the grossness of eating meat that was crawling with maggots. It was not on purpose. Maggots taste even worse than sour milk. I hope you have a better day.
Love Al ( you never know I might be listening)
• Aaaaah... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Skeeter (Stephen)
• The chunky milk is yoghurt, so it is quite OK to drink, you could have put it in the blender with some strawberries and had a refreshing smoothie........Ha Ha! Maria
• Maaike, think about it, cockroaches eat our chunky milk and well preserved twinkies all the time and they are still here. Shesh. . . what were you thinking. Anyways, you'll probably be fine until you get really old, then it will come back to haunt you like a crazy acid flash back, ha ha. Aubrey
• I poisoned you muuuhahahahahahaha Elizabeth
• Snerk!!!! I am sorry, but the mental image of you spurting cottage chunk milk just made me laugh!!!! Chew a package of Orbit and you will have a clean mouth. Jana
• I can't believe you sent an email to all those people and told them about the nasty milk you drank. You are so funny, I just love you. Erin
Maaike gets some long needed hugging!
You know, there are times when a human body just aches for a hug. Sometimes we can find someone to give them to us, like a parent, or a sibling. Sometimes a friend will come through in a pinch. But most of the time we muddle through life seriously in need of a hug but unwilling to ask for one. Sunday was such a day for me. I was feeling ill, sad and unwanted–or as we like to call it: Human.
But, it didn’t stay that way. I went to conference despite the fact that my head was throbbing from my newly acquired head cold. I sat by Jade and Ben and then Caleb and his roomies sat on the other side of me. After a bit, I laid my head down on Caleb’s shoulder...and nearly fell asleep. He’s such a good kid, that Caleb is. Rather enigmatic, really, but very kind and giving.
When I got home TJ called. He’d forgotten that it was conference, so he went to church but no one was there. I invited him over to hang out with us. After dinner we were waiting for Matt to show up to play some “Settlers of Catan”. We have an “L” shaped couch and TJ was laying on the long side of it. I laid down on the shorter side of it and put my head on his chest. He had has arm around me in such a convenient way that I got to hold his hand. We laid there for a bit and he told me that he’s sure he doesn’t make a very good pillow because he laughs too much. Then I read his palm. When Matt showed up we played the game. But...it was so nice to just be loved for a moment.
Then Ben came over and he always gives me a hug and an “I love you”. By the end of the evening I felt very loved. I think I should have more days like that.
I was walking to work carrying a spoon–well, that’s interesting in and of itself, but that’s not the point of the story–the story is that there was this squirrel. It was running across the street...run, run, run, leap..into the Disappearing Tree. It didn’t run up the tree, however, he just kind of sat there part way up the trunk. He had his back to me and when I approached, he turned around and stared at me with this, “Hey! Whatcha lookin’ at! Yeah, bring it on! I’m not scared of you human!” I saw the ire with which the squirrel was nearly foaming over.
“Hi squirrel.” I said then started laughing. He looked at me with fire in his eyes as if I had no right to laugh at his squirrelly wrath. The he leaned his head back and watched me finish walking up the sidewalk.
“Hey!” said the squirrel, “Come back! Didn’t you used to be a tree!”
I bet that’s the squirrel that Jeff was doing the impression of...you know, the one that bit him?
Now...about the spoon:
Yes, I was walking to work carrying a spoon. This was with a purpose, but I figured what a better way for the elusive "Mr. Eight" (boyfriends 1-7 failed so miserably) to have an excuse to strike up a conversation. He’d see me across the tree lined (squirrel infested) path carrying my spoon and say to himself, “Who is that woman? She’s beautiful. Why is she carrying a spoon? I must know.” Then he’d walk up to me in all is Goran Visnjic-y-like glory and say, with his beautiful accent, “Hello, you are the most intriguing woman I’ve ever seen. Why are you carrying a spoon?”
I’d say, “I can sum that up for you in two words: Fish soup.” Then he’d look at me with that same face you are pulling at this very moment...a cross between “What the...?” and “Yuck!” Kind of comes out as “Bleh....?” He’d look at me with his blue eyes glinting and a crooked smile, “I can take you away from a world filled with fish soup and bring you into a world of more identifiable food.”
“Sounds good.” I say, then I’d kick him in the shin and say, “Where the f#@* have you been?”
That’s why I was carrying a spoon.
John DOES NOT have I.M.
MD: Hey, do you have IM...this would be fun to chat.
MD: well, you’ll just have to burn in hell then
MD: I'll send you an icee...one of the blue ones
JW: assuming you're not also there. seems like a big leap.
The Bloody Spoon Does Me No Bloody Good:
You know what makes for a bad day? I’ll tell you: not being able to heat up the lunch you didn’t want to eat in the first place in the microwave at work because your boss doesn’t like the smell of fish. I didn’t bloody want the bloody fish soup in the first place but it was all I had for lunch because I was too damn poor to get anything else. So not only did I carry the stupid fish soup up to work with me, but I had to carry it home, too. So not only did the spoon fail in its fantasy purpose of helping me find Mr. Eight, it also failed to be useful in a normal spoon-like fashion. Now, on some level, I understand the wrath stirred up in The Tick as he yelled his battle cry “Spoon!” (“The roof! What a perfect place to fight crime!)
Teddy Jessup is the cutest little boy in the World:
I was supposed to go watch Ted play soccer on Wednesday night, but I ended up calling Kylie and canceling (bad soup day on top of other things). But before Ted’s game stated, Kylie and Ted showed up at my house with dinner for me and the cutest little card that Kylie had made. (She’s so good to me...she’s the BEST mean friend I’ve ever had!) Anyway, Ted says, “Maybe Maaike could show us her house.” I showed Ted around the apartment. When we were in the living room he said, “And what about that closet?” So I opened the closet and showed him the boxes, ironing board and coats that hang there. Then he walked to the window and said, “I just can’t believe how high up we are.” We sat on the back of the couch looking out the windows and Ted told me that it would take a very long time to walk all the way to the mountains.
Ted is such a cute boy and he is SO SMART!
My horoscope is as useless as ever:
'Secret' is like 'scarlet,' if you mix up the syllables and add an 'L' and don't get too hung up on the 'ee' versus 'ah' sound. Scarlet is blood red. Red blood is what keeps your heart pumping.
And that’s supposed to inspire me to do what?
Another Squirrel Story:
There was this squirrel on the Hello walk. It was, as squirrels are wont to do, eating something using both hands. He was just sitting there gnawing away. I said, “Hi, squirrel.” It immediately dropped what it was eating and looked at me as if I had offered it the Holy Grail of whatever squirrels would consider the Holy Grail. “I’m sorry squirrel, I don’t have anything.” I said. He continued standing with its little arms hanging against the lighter colored fur of his stomach. I felt guilty for giving the squirrel false hope of a better meal. Too bad I couldn’t have given him the soup.
Ok, Katie. I think that’s all for today. I can’t believe there’s only three weeks left of school. That means I have only three weeks of work left...then I have to figure out what I’m doing for the summer. And the rest of my life. Ack. Better not think of that. Squirrels...think of squirrels. But not spoons. They still make my cranky.