vacation

I just got back from an excellent week in Idaho. Click the pic for more.

threes

I knew I was off to a rough Tuesday when a bird crapped on my face. I assumed it was an oversized drip from an air conditioning unit, but the wipe of a hand revealed the tell-tale oily white. No mistaking that one. Not to be discouraged, I continued my walk to work and stopped at my habitual bench to change from flip flops to heels. Strike two, as another bad-dream scenario came true in the form of mis-matched shoes. Granted, they were both black and round-toed. Also granted, one was a good inch and a half higher than the other. Once at work, I (stood with weight on one foot as I) reported my morning's events to two coworkers. "Watch out- bad things come in threes," warned one. Thanks, Alejandro. I don't consider myself at all superstitious, but I do have to admit I smiled to myself as the day came toward a close with nothing worse to report than an itchy shirt tag. I was so pleased with my having conquered the day, in fact, that I put an extra umph on the the big bowl of hummus I slid across- and off- our kitchen counter. Face down. Three.

dish-draining danger

In my last post, I failed to explain how my favorite bowl could possibly plunge to his death from the top of our fridge. Well, truth be told, he toppled from the dish drainer. 

I have to blame New York for this one; if our kitchen had any normal amount of counter space, this never would have happened. 

I'll miss you, bowl.

now, where was I

Oh, hi.

It's time once again to address the neglected blog. I'm not quite sure how this happens, but the first post back is always the toughest; there's so much pressure for it to be a "good one." Having given up on that idea, I figure I'll just throw something out there so I can move on. A lot (and yet nothing) has happened over the past two months, including but not limited to:
- a visit from the parents (free food and good company)
- a visit from the little sis (hilarious)
- the purchase of a new comp (my first mac)
- a promo at work (nice)
- my 27th birthday (what?)
- my favorite bowl plunged to his death from the top of our fridge (sad)
- I walked two miles in nail salon "flip flops" (true)
- I cut my hair (fine, it looks the same)
- I checked out some mayan ruins (cool)
- and I'm loving the current NY weather (can it please stay like this...?)

That's all I've got. "Good one," huh?

runaway raisins

You've seen it before: leftovers at a self-serve restaurant, cans on the roadside, gum on the street. I never cease to be annoyed with people who believe themselves above putting their trash in its place, and do my darndest to let my thoughts be known via scowl or raised eyebrow. Come on people, make an effort.

Confession, though: last week that person was me. It started off innocently enough, as I walked home from a late night volleyball match. Realizing my stomach could really use a little something to tide it over, I popped into a deli and came out with a six-pack. Of raisins, that is. I finished off a mini box a block later, tossing it toward a garbage can as I reached for a second. Yes, toward, and I timed that with a gust of wind you wouldn't believe. The next thing I knew, my raisin box was whipping across the street. I started quickly after it, but stopped in my tracks at the sight of oncoming traffic. I stepped back on the curb, and Sun Maid was lost in the night. And people scowled at me.

my words in print

flying disc

I came across this picture today and couldn't help but post it. I figured 1) it's the closest I'll ever come to foot modeling, and 2) honestly, what could better serve as webpage welcome than a trio of dirty feet? The picture was taken last September, after my best friend Katie and her best (boy)friend Britt added their names to the list of those who've tried to teach me to throw a frisbee. I wouldn't say they succeeded, but I'd like to think we made some serious progress. Perhaps '08 will be my year.

one glove

A sad realization this morning got a certain song stuck in my head. Then, as the day went on, the lyrics began to change:

One Glove, One Right
Left went and got himself lost last night
Hear the left hand crying (One Glove)
Hear the left hand crying (One Right)
Sadly, the Left got left on the train, yes he got lost last night
Sadly, Left went and got himself lost last night

(to the tune of Bob Marley's "One Love")
 

terms of endearment

My family has always been huge on nicknames, and the Batt farm heard many come and go across the years: Wayne-bo, Weo, Waynard; Winnie, Wendello, Windorff; Kath, Kahti, Kaz; Nico, Nucho, Nuck, and beyond.

I thereby learned to answer to pretty much whatever people called me, and when a Spanish-speaking coworker addressed me one day as "Wench," I responded. I smiled to myself when she left, sure it wouldn't stick- but it did. It spread like wild fire.

"Wench, have you seen this presentation?"
"Hey Wench, I like your coat."
"Where should we have lunch today, Wench?"
"Wench, want to grab a coffee?"

Little do they know that "wench" is an actual word in English, a word that means, to put it lightly, "wanton woman."

It makes me smile.

(208)

Now that we've established Idaho's geographical location, I thought I might point out that the entire state has a sole area code. The area code can therefore be dropped on all in-state calls, and people grow quickly accostomed to a simple seven digits. This is all fine and good until there's an animal clinic just across the Washington-Idaho border whose telephone number is identical to your cell phone number (plus area code, of course). As a result, people in Idaho half-dial the animal clinic and get- you guessed it!- me.

There was a time when I considered changing my number, but we've since come to terms. It doesn't happen too often, after all, and anyway what would I do without conversations such as this:

"Hello"
"Got my dog tangled up in a porcupine."
"Sorry, what?"
"Got my dog tangled up in a porcupine."
"Oh, right. I think you have the wrong number.. try (509)"

what's in a name

"When do you usually leave in the morning?"
"When do you want to go run?"
"When do you move to that place on 14th St?"
"When do you think you'll be done?"

"When do you normally go out to dinner?"
"When do you leave for D.C.?"
They get me each time as I stop, turn my head;
It all sounds like "Wendy..." to me.

lessons in geography

Ah, what have we here? could it.. no but it.. it is! A new post!
So I took five blogging months off. Big deal.
No excuses. Moving on.

Now, where was I...

Ah yes, a simple subject I've been meaning to address for quite some time now: my home state of Idaho.
"Iowa?"
Idaho.
"Ohio?"
Idaho.
"Oh yeah, the midwest."
Ehh, no.

Now, I've nothing against the midwest and by no means expect the general public to know all there is to know about Idaho, but let me paint you a picture:

I think that's a good start.