The first time I saw her, I couldn't even believe how pretty she was. I remember her asking me, "Is that your girlfriend?" but it was my twin sister. I remember being a little upset but happy at the same time (why would she ask me something like that - obviously she doesn't know me, but I guess it means she's somewhat interested).
I knew she had to be interested after I went to lay down for a bit and she followed me upstairs. After we made out for a little bit, my friend was pissed off about it, so that was basically the end of it.
Fast Forward
I was still young and cocky and still thought she was really hot when I saw her at the Upper Deck (our local bar) years later. I was in no mood to even consider 'settling down' - I was living with my two buddies and we called our place the [______] palace, and I never even thought about having a girlfriend. But I don't know - there was something about her that made me want to hang out with her - I needed to hang out with her.
I remember the whole, "You take my number. "No, you have to take mine." I don't normally do that kind of stuff, but I just... I don't know why I did it to be honest. It's just what I said at the time, and I guess it worked out. Normally when a girl asks me to write down her number, I handed her my phone. I have no idea why I refused to do it. It was probably the sternest I've been with any girl to tell you the truth. I also am kind of oblivious to those things - there have been times when girls put their tongue in my ear, and I had no idea they wanted to have sex with me.
We decided to do 'Rock paper scissors,' which was probably pretty stupid - what am I like two years old? Rock paper scissors. She took my number because she lost. From that day on, Patty realized I always throw Rock. Good old Rock, nothing beats that.
She called me and left a voicemail while I was camping with my family in Atwood, Ohio. She texted me after that, and I told her I was out of town. She didn't believe me, which either makes her nuts or... nuts. Why wouldn't she believe me? What did she think I was doing? If I was blowing her off I would have said, "This isn't going to happen," and that would have been it. I stayed up late, laying next to cousin, texting Patty and my family yelled at me for keeping the lights on.
I remember telling my Aunt Joan about it when I got back, and she listened to the voicemail she left. She told me I should call her back because she sounded like a nice girl and all that horseshit.
I called her. We set something up for the following weekend. I had two beers while I was getting ready. My roommate, was pacing back and forth. He asked what I was doing, and I told him I was going to the bar. He asked if he could come and I said, "Yeah." So I brought him. I didn't actually know it was a date.
Patty's Blog: A blog about our journey.
Showing posts with label life stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life stuff. Show all posts
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Friday, September 11, 2015
Every Great Couple Has A Great Story - Here's Ours (Patty's Edition)
When I was 17, I was infatuated with the captain of the Berea High School football team. Even though I went to Holy Name High School, my girlfriends and I would watch the Berea High School boys play on Friday nights for two main reasons: 1) Each of us had a crush on at least one of them and 2) They were actually really good.
My crush - well I had a few - but my main crush was the Captain, Brett Parobek. He was absolutely gorgeous, an amazing athlete, cool and really... kind of a bad ass.
I, on the other hand, was none of those things. I was awkward, nonathletic, shy, and studious... so not very cool at all. I didn't have a chance with Brett, so I wasn't even going to try to approach him - even when my cool older brother let me tag along with him to parties where the football boys were going to be.
As we went through our junior and senior year of high school, some of my girlfriends started dating some of the Berea football boys. When there were parties, I would tag along, and became friends with quite a few. Brett, however, I was still too intimidated to approach.
Before I left for college, there was one last summer party one of Brett's best friends was throwing. Everyone would be there, and I still even remember what I was wearing: tight jeans, black sparkle flip flops, and a tight black V-neck t-shirt. I remember sitting with my girlfriends at a picnic table, and Brett approached with another girl close by him. My heart sunk because I figured that this was his beautiful girlfriend. He introduced himself to us and started to chat with my best friend. I quickly shoved the idea that he might be interested in me out of my head, and no longer nervous, asked him how long he and his girlfriend had been together. They both started laughing, "No, we're twins - this is my sister, Elizabeth." I remember blurting out, "Oh! I love twins!" and mentally slapped myself across the forehead for how stupid of a thing that was to say. They walked away to meet with other friends. Damnit.
Having thought I embarrassed myself in front of my absolute crush after meeting him for the very first time, I drank a few more beers. At that time in my life, my girls and I called beer, 'courage in a bottle,' because it made cute boys less intimidating to flirt with. Well, after a few beers, I was feeling particularly courageous. I went inside the house looking for Brett and found him upstairs alone. Without hesitation, I walked right up to him and kissed him! Right?! Can you believe that? And he definitely kissed me back - until his friend walked upstairs and saw us - then I was off! I ran downstairs, now confused and slightly embarrassed, but giggly. I grabbed the girls and we left, and I remember looking back beaming. I was very proud of myself. I would not see any of the Berea boys again for years.
FAST FORWARD
It's 2007, and I'm a college graduate back in Berea to live with my folks until I can find a job and figure out how to rent an apartment. My girls and I are still in touch - in fact a few of us went to college together, and came back to Berea together. We go out to celebrate being home and run into the Berea boys -- er, now Berea men I suppose.
College had taught me a lot of things, and confidence was definitely one. When I saw Brett ordering a drink at the bar, I did not hesitate to walk up to him.
I said, "I bet you don't remember me."
He said, "I remember you."
"Oh, well good!" I smiled widely at him and said, "You should take me out some time."
He just shrugged his shoulders as if to dismiss the idea. (Gasp - what an ass, right?!)
"Well, you should at least take my number." I retorted.
"Maybe you should take my number." He said without hesitation. (What?! Are you serious?)
"Umm... I'm the lady, you should take my number." (I was actually getting pissed).
His twin was also there at the bar, and decides that this is a good time to walk over. She asks us what we were doing, and I explain to her that her dick brother won't take my number, and insists I take his number and call him. "Why don't you play rock, paper, scissors?" was her suggestion. (What, are we 12?!).
Alright, fine. We play, I lose, I take his number.
I wait until the next weekend to call him. He doesn't answer, and I leave a message, and I'm crushed.
ALL THE WHILE
Brett stares at his phone before he calls the missed number back. He had been waiting for me to call because since his friends' party four years before, he had not forgotten about that cute, crazy girl who kissed him out of nowhere. He had played coy at the bar, but was actually just - well - nervous (and let's be honest - probably at the bar to drink and not to be hit on by crazy girls). He calls, and also gets voicemail, and doesn't leave a message.
He has his mom & aunt call to listen to, "Hello this is Patricia Price, I am not available right now, but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you!"
"Oh Brett, you should call her back - she sounds like a good one."
He calls back, and leaves a message, "Hi Patty, it's Brett Parobek - give me a call back."
THE REST IS HISTORY
Never in my wildest dreams did I think when I was a teenager that the boy I was head-over-heels for, watching almost every Friday night from the stands, would end up being my husband of now almost four years (after being together for nearly eight). But sometimes the girl does get her dream guy, and that's why our story is a Great one.
[READ Brett's version of the same story is here: http://pattyparobek.blogspot.com/2015/09/every-couple-has-great-story-heres-ours.html]
My crush - well I had a few - but my main crush was the Captain, Brett Parobek. He was absolutely gorgeous, an amazing athlete, cool and really... kind of a bad ass. I, on the other hand, was none of those things. I was awkward, nonathletic, shy, and studious... so not very cool at all. I didn't have a chance with Brett, so I wasn't even going to try to approach him - even when my cool older brother let me tag along with him to parties where the football boys were going to be.
As we went through our junior and senior year of high school, some of my girlfriends started dating some of the Berea football boys. When there were parties, I would tag along, and became friends with quite a few. Brett, however, I was still too intimidated to approach.
Before I left for college, there was one last summer party one of Brett's best friends was throwing. Everyone would be there, and I still even remember what I was wearing: tight jeans, black sparkle flip flops, and a tight black V-neck t-shirt. I remember sitting with my girlfriends at a picnic table, and Brett approached with another girl close by him. My heart sunk because I figured that this was his beautiful girlfriend. He introduced himself to us and started to chat with my best friend. I quickly shoved the idea that he might be interested in me out of my head, and no longer nervous, asked him how long he and his girlfriend had been together. They both started laughing, "No, we're twins - this is my sister, Elizabeth." I remember blurting out, "Oh! I love twins!" and mentally slapped myself across the forehead for how stupid of a thing that was to say. They walked away to meet with other friends. Damnit.
Having thought I embarrassed myself in front of my absolute crush after meeting him for the very first time, I drank a few more beers. At that time in my life, my girls and I called beer, 'courage in a bottle,' because it made cute boys less intimidating to flirt with. Well, after a few beers, I was feeling particularly courageous. I went inside the house looking for Brett and found him upstairs alone. Without hesitation, I walked right up to him and kissed him! Right?! Can you believe that? And he definitely kissed me back - until his friend walked upstairs and saw us - then I was off! I ran downstairs, now confused and slightly embarrassed, but giggly. I grabbed the girls and we left, and I remember looking back beaming. I was very proud of myself. I would not see any of the Berea boys again for years.
FAST FORWARD
It's 2007, and I'm a college graduate back in Berea to live with my folks until I can find a job and figure out how to rent an apartment. My girls and I are still in touch - in fact a few of us went to college together, and came back to Berea together. We go out to celebrate being home and run into the Berea boys -- er, now Berea men I suppose.
College had taught me a lot of things, and confidence was definitely one. When I saw Brett ordering a drink at the bar, I did not hesitate to walk up to him.
I said, "I bet you don't remember me."
He said, "I remember you."
"Oh, well good!" I smiled widely at him and said, "You should take me out some time."
He just shrugged his shoulders as if to dismiss the idea. (Gasp - what an ass, right?!)
"Well, you should at least take my number." I retorted.
"Maybe you should take my number." He said without hesitation. (What?! Are you serious?)
"Umm... I'm the lady, you should take my number." (I was actually getting pissed).
His twin was also there at the bar, and decides that this is a good time to walk over. She asks us what we were doing, and I explain to her that her dick brother won't take my number, and insists I take his number and call him. "Why don't you play rock, paper, scissors?" was her suggestion. (What, are we 12?!).
Alright, fine. We play, I lose, I take his number.
I wait until the next weekend to call him. He doesn't answer, and I leave a message, and I'm crushed.
ALL THE WHILE
Brett stares at his phone before he calls the missed number back. He had been waiting for me to call because since his friends' party four years before, he had not forgotten about that cute, crazy girl who kissed him out of nowhere. He had played coy at the bar, but was actually just - well - nervous (and let's be honest - probably at the bar to drink and not to be hit on by crazy girls). He calls, and also gets voicemail, and doesn't leave a message.
He has his mom & aunt call to listen to, "Hello this is Patricia Price, I am not available right now, but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you!"
"Oh Brett, you should call her back - she sounds like a good one."
He calls back, and leaves a message, "Hi Patty, it's Brett Parobek - give me a call back."
THE REST IS HISTORY
Never in my wildest dreams did I think when I was a teenager that the boy I was head-over-heels for, watching almost every Friday night from the stands, would end up being my husband of now almost four years (after being together for nearly eight). But sometimes the girl does get her dream guy, and that's why our story is a Great one.
Sunday, August 9, 2015
We're Trying a New Church Today
I was raised in the Catholic Church. I went to private, Catholic school from preschool through high school then attended a private, Jesuit college. Faith has always been very important to me, but as I grew up, I struggled to be inspired by the rigid structure of the Catholic Church, and had issues with some of the firm stances of the Church opposed to more liberal lifestyles.
I still go to mass, but it's not because I want to - it's more out of obligation and tradition, and to please my family. I still attend the same church I did when I was a little girl, as do my parents, but I don't call it 'My Parish.'
I've attended a few other Catholic churches in the last few years with my husband, and even a Lutheran church, but nothing has spoken to me, or has called me back.
Unfortunately, as mass becomes more of a chore, I find less and less time for it.
This morning, I can say I am actually excited to experience something new. My husband and I are trying a non-demonational church we found (we found? or was brought to us?) this morning. I'm looking to be inspired, and I hope I find what I've been looking for.
I still go to mass, but it's not because I want to - it's more out of obligation and tradition, and to please my family. I still attend the same church I did when I was a little girl, as do my parents, but I don't call it 'My Parish.'
I've attended a few other Catholic churches in the last few years with my husband, and even a Lutheran church, but nothing has spoken to me, or has called me back.
Unfortunately, as mass becomes more of a chore, I find less and less time for it.
This morning, I can say I am actually excited to experience something new. My husband and I are trying a non-demonational church we found (we found? or was brought to us?) this morning. I'm looking to be inspired, and I hope I find what I've been looking for.
Sunday, March 1, 2015
I AM THIRTY YEARS OLD
All Caps: I AM THIRTY YEARS OLD.
I turned thirty years old on November 14, 2014. I turned 30 over three months ago. Since then, I've
been surprised how often my age has come up. Have I not noticed it before? Filling out forms, carded at the bar, running into old acquaintances, asked casually in conversation (yes, that happens - more at work than anything else...). For the last three months I've been answering 29. I was answering it quickly and confidently as a joke at first, then as a hard commitment.
BUT guess what - I can't hide from my age. Believe me I know. I TRIED:
For the last three months I've been trying to lose weight like crazy to try to get into my 'younger' shape. For the last three months, I've been PLUCKING grey hairs out of my scalp every morning after parting my hair (at least THREE each time). For the last three months, I haven't smoked a single cigarette because I'm terrified that my wrinkles are super visible now. For the last three months, I've been putting on daily glow moisturizer, night cream, day cream, sunblock, and skin regeneration cream in LAYERS.
AND guess what now? It's NOT working, and I'm EXHAUSTED!
Last night, I went to a twenty-something-year-old's bachelorette party and I was barely hit on. I was not carded. I was sober on the way home. I texted my husband throughout the entire night. I thought about leaving before midnight.
You're only as old as you feel? I feel AT LEAST 30.
And do you know what? I Don't Flippin' Care! Frankly I'm OVER it. It is so exhausting to compete with twenty-something-year-olds, and I don't have the TIME or the ENERGY. Frankly, I am actually excited to be in my 30's! My Job KICKS ASS - I'm a professional businesswoman. How Flippin' COOL is that?! (Okay, maybe not that professional, but definitely successful). I LOVE being married to the love of my life, for the rest of my life, and not running around from nightclub to bar scene looking for randoms. My GOD, how did I ever have enough caffeine in my system to handle that before? I love my house. I HAVE A WHOLE HOUSE!
I went to pluck a grey hair this morning, and I said, "F#%K IT!" and threw the tweezers back on the shelf.
I think about my 20-year-old self seeing myself now at 30, and I would be STOKED to see this result. Look at what the last 10 years brought me. Hell yes! Now I'm just going to coast on that and enjoy the hell out of it!
I'm going to enjoy my grown-ass 30-year-old $hit:
I'm going to redecorate my house, and Pinterest the hell out of it.
I'm going to actually cook more things and have nice dinners - I'm excited as hell for my new hand mixer!
I'm going to take long-ass vacations in really nice places.
I'm going to climb the hell out of the corporate ladder.
I might even finally cut my hair really short!
Who knows? I may even want a kid or something!
I turned thirty years old on November 14, 2014. I turned 30 over three months ago. Since then, I've
been surprised how often my age has come up. Have I not noticed it before? Filling out forms, carded at the bar, running into old acquaintances, asked casually in conversation (yes, that happens - more at work than anything else...). For the last three months I've been answering 29. I was answering it quickly and confidently as a joke at first, then as a hard commitment.
BUT guess what - I can't hide from my age. Believe me I know. I TRIED:
For the last three months I've been trying to lose weight like crazy to try to get into my 'younger' shape. For the last three months, I've been PLUCKING grey hairs out of my scalp every morning after parting my hair (at least THREE each time). For the last three months, I haven't smoked a single cigarette because I'm terrified that my wrinkles are super visible now. For the last three months, I've been putting on daily glow moisturizer, night cream, day cream, sunblock, and skin regeneration cream in LAYERS.
AND guess what now? It's NOT working, and I'm EXHAUSTED! Last night, I went to a twenty-something-year-old's bachelorette party and I was barely hit on. I was not carded. I was sober on the way home. I texted my husband throughout the entire night. I thought about leaving before midnight.
You're only as old as you feel? I feel AT LEAST 30.
And do you know what? I Don't Flippin' Care! Frankly I'm OVER it. It is so exhausting to compete with twenty-something-year-olds, and I don't have the TIME or the ENERGY. Frankly, I am actually excited to be in my 30's! My Job KICKS ASS - I'm a professional businesswoman. How Flippin' COOL is that?! (Okay, maybe not that professional, but definitely successful). I LOVE being married to the love of my life, for the rest of my life, and not running around from nightclub to bar scene looking for randoms. My GOD, how did I ever have enough caffeine in my system to handle that before? I love my house. I HAVE A WHOLE HOUSE!
I went to pluck a grey hair this morning, and I said, "F#%K IT!" and threw the tweezers back on the shelf. I think about my 20-year-old self seeing myself now at 30, and I would be STOKED to see this result. Look at what the last 10 years brought me. Hell yes! Now I'm just going to coast on that and enjoy the hell out of it!
I'm going to enjoy my grown-ass 30-year-old $hit:
I'm going to redecorate my house, and Pinterest the hell out of it.
I'm going to actually cook more things and have nice dinners - I'm excited as hell for my new hand mixer!
I'm going to take long-ass vacations in really nice places.
I'm going to climb the hell out of the corporate ladder.
I might even finally cut my hair really short!
Who knows? I may even want a kid or something!
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Youngest Child Syndrome is Real
I've taken a recent interest in the family psychology. My family, like any family, is functionally dysfunctional. Every family is crazy, and mine is no exception. Since I come from an Irish Catholic family, there are a few more kids than in average families, and conflict comes with the territory. In order to help better-understand my family, why not learn up on the subject...
I started with influences of birth order.
Your Birth Order Labeled You
I found a TON of awesome articles on birth order, and how that can basically predict behavior.
Interesting Articles about Birth Order:
http://childdevelopmentinfo.com/child-development/birth_order/
http://www.doctoroz.com/videos/what-birth-order-can-predict-about-you
http://research.economics.unsw.edu.au/mvidal-fernandez/birthorder_17.pdf
http://www.nber.org/papers/w19542
http://www.parents.com/baby/development/social/birth-order-and-personality/
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dr-gail-gross/how-birth-order-affects-personality_b_4494385.html
The older kids in my family are a bit harder to label. With the age differences between the children, it's harder to spot the real 'middle' and real 'oldest' - I think it different from time to time depending on who was at home.
However, there was always one youngest child: me!
Youngest Child Syndrome
Before reading up on YCS, I assumed it was going to tell me that I have a spoiled personality with a flare for attention and rely on the service of others. This is true.
But it gave me some great insight on other things about myself that I recognize, but didn't realize they were a result of or at least correlated with being the youngest child:
- Expects others to do things, make decisions, and take responsibility
- Develops feelings of inferiority
- Generally more playful
- Develops a sense of humor as a play to attract more attention
- Risk takers; thrill/pleasure seekers
- Can be most at-risk for addictive behavior
- Tends to be fun-loving, uncomplicated and outgoing
- Can have a 'pie in the sky' everything will work out attitude
- Can seduce a crowd with charm and likability
- Creative and enjoy freedom
The cool thing is, my husband is also the youngest child. Not only do I see all of the above traits in myself, but I definitely see them in my husband as well.
How does this help me with my family?
Understanding that I have all the symptoms of YCS doesn't help me with my family, really. But understanding the needs associated with the other birth orders will help me connect better with my siblings.
For example, according to this article on large families and their affect on oldest and middle children, I understand that..
"Whatever oldest children in large families achieve and/or accomplish is either minimized, trivialized, or just ignored. Parents of large families view them as adults who should not have to be praised or congratulated for a job well done. Such parents contend that their oldest children should be beyond the level where they need constant positive reinforcement. They figure that their oldest children should possess sufficient self-motivation and/or sense of purpose to achieve, not depending upon them to be emotional coaches."
This leads me to believe that my oldest siblings may have not have been praised for their efforts as much as I have been. In fact, I can say that one with certainty. I'm not sure if my folks realize that. Or the fact that they may very well be praising me, the youngest child, more for my trivial wins than they are praising my oldest siblings for much greater victories. My oldest brother is a Lt. Commander, and is presenting at a conference this month. My sister is a nurse practitioner, thinking about becoming a doctor. I'm not sure what kind of praise they've received lately... so my middle siblings and I should make sure that they know their achievements are not going unnoticed (regardless if they want that praise or not - I'm sure at this point they may have even convinced themselves that they don't even need it).
Saturday, August 9, 2014
I Have My Dad's Looks, Humor, and Hypochondriasis
I've been told all my life just how like my Father I am.
I have his sense of humor for certain. I look just like him (the whole, "If you put a wig on him it would look just like me" comparison happened when he had less facial hair).
Being Daddy's Little Girl, I'm always eagerly looking for new ways to compare my father and myself. However lately, I'm starting to compare us in ways that I'm more anxious about than anything else. My dad, you see, is likely a hypochondriac: someone who constantly convinces himself he has a terminal illness or serious disease. Something that my sister (a nurse practitioner) and I absolutely love to kid him about, and joke about to each other. Being a nurse practitioner, and married to a doctor, my sister receives numerous calls and queries to consult against from my father. In past years, my reaction to my sister's stories about this have been carefree giggles and shaking my head with a wide grin, taking the news in no other way but lightly. The last 3 months have changed all that...
You see, I am likely a hypochondriac.
Something that I am not surprised about, knowing that I am more like my father than anyone else in this world.
How do I know I'm a hypochondriac?
Well, I've already convinced myself for one.
The real evidence came from my list of medical touch points in the last 3 months, all of which turned out to be nothing or could have been fixed with a simple over-the-counter medication:
In case you need more convincing, here is the last conversation I had with a doctor (my dentist) just yesterday:
Dentist: "What seems to be the problem?"
Me: "Well let me give you the back story so you don't think I'm crazy..."
Dentist: "Okay..."
Me: "At lunch the other day my toungue brushed over this bony protrusion I never noticed before. The gum seemed a bit sensitive around it, and it's definitely not on the other side."
Dentist: "Okay..."
Me: "Well I had my husband take a bunch of photos of it, and then I noticed along with that bony lump, another soft sack next to what looks to be an absessed tooth - my last molar."
Dentist: "Okay..."
Me: "I think it might be Tori or an absess leaking out to under my gum line... well I want to fix anything before it gets really serious so I'm here."
Dentist: "Okay... well let's start here: Does anything hurt?"
Me: "No."
Dentist: "Alright. Let me poke around." [Dentist pokes around for a while, speaking in complex dentist-y lingo]
Dentist: Repeats everything to me in complex dentist-y language.
Me: "So what does that mean?"
Dentist: "The pony protrusion on your gum line - that's just your jaw. You've had that part of your jaw your entire life. You just noticed it now. And the soft sack on your gum line, well I couldn't find it, so there's not one. Lastly your 'abscess' tooth, is actually quite healthy - see here on the xray how strong your enamel is?"
Me: "Oh..."
Me: "So you're saying I am crazy?"
So anyways, I still love being Daddy's Little Girl. And believe it or not, I still am eagerly looking for ways to compare us. Though now the comparison study has the additional intention of preparing myself for my future.
I have his sense of humor for certain. I look just like him (the whole, "If you put a wig on him it would look just like me" comparison happened when he had less facial hair).
Being Daddy's Little Girl, I'm always eagerly looking for new ways to compare my father and myself. However lately, I'm starting to compare us in ways that I'm more anxious about than anything else. My dad, you see, is likely a hypochondriac: someone who constantly convinces himself he has a terminal illness or serious disease. Something that my sister (a nurse practitioner) and I absolutely love to kid him about, and joke about to each other. Being a nurse practitioner, and married to a doctor, my sister receives numerous calls and queries to consult against from my father. In past years, my reaction to my sister's stories about this have been carefree giggles and shaking my head with a wide grin, taking the news in no other way but lightly. The last 3 months have changed all that...You see, I am likely a hypochondriac.
Something that I am not surprised about, knowing that I am more like my father than anyone else in this world.
How do I know I'm a hypochondriac?
Well, I've already convinced myself for one.
The real evidence came from my list of medical touch points in the last 3 months, all of which turned out to be nothing or could have been fixed with a simple over-the-counter medication:
- Emergency Dermatologist appointment in June: I thought a mole I had my entire life was skin cancer.
- CVS Minute Clinic in July
- Urgicare Visit in July
- Emergency Dentist appointment in August
- At least 2 calls to my physician's office
- Countless calls to my sister, the nurse practitioner, trying to slyly bake in medical questions to our standard sisterly conversations
- 20+ visits to WebMD
In case you need more convincing, here is the last conversation I had with a doctor (my dentist) just yesterday:
Dentist: "What seems to be the problem?"
Me: "Well let me give you the back story so you don't think I'm crazy..."
Dentist: "Okay..."
Me: "At lunch the other day my toungue brushed over this bony protrusion I never noticed before. The gum seemed a bit sensitive around it, and it's definitely not on the other side."
Dentist: "Okay..."
Me: "Well I had my husband take a bunch of photos of it, and then I noticed along with that bony lump, another soft sack next to what looks to be an absessed tooth - my last molar."
Dentist: "Okay..."
Me: "I think it might be Tori or an absess leaking out to under my gum line... well I want to fix anything before it gets really serious so I'm here."
Dentist: "Okay... well let's start here: Does anything hurt?"
Me: "No."
Dentist: "Alright. Let me poke around." [Dentist pokes around for a while, speaking in complex dentist-y lingo]
Dentist: Repeats everything to me in complex dentist-y language.
Me: "So what does that mean?"
Dentist: "The pony protrusion on your gum line - that's just your jaw. You've had that part of your jaw your entire life. You just noticed it now. And the soft sack on your gum line, well I couldn't find it, so there's not one. Lastly your 'abscess' tooth, is actually quite healthy - see here on the xray how strong your enamel is?"
Me: "Oh..."
Me: "So you're saying I am crazy?"
So anyways, I still love being Daddy's Little Girl. And believe it or not, I still am eagerly looking for ways to compare us. Though now the comparison study has the additional intention of preparing myself for my future.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
My Adventures with Jury Duty in Cleveland, Ohio
Jury Duty!
I was bummed about getting Jury Duty in the city of Cleveland at first - but actually loved it in the end! Here's a recap of my entire experience -
How I got my First Call to Serve Postponed:
I actually got called to Jury Duty several weeks ago, but I got it postponed until now. I was freaking out because I had an agency that I work with flying in that week, and had to get out of it. Really all you have to do to get it postponed is go up to the Jury Commission main desk and ask to postpone your duty, even on the morning of - no letter or reason needed. They're super nice about it. I literally loved the front desk - I was all freaking out and shaking and giving a huge explanation of why I couldn't serve that week. The lady at the front desk looked at me with the kindest eyes and swatted her hand back and forth with a, "Don't worry about it, honey - when can you serve?" And that was it.
Serving My Time... Isn't Bad at All!
So now I'm here and serving my duty, and I have to say, it's been very pleasant.
Day 1:
Arrived at 8:00am, waited in line for a bit to get my badge, then watched a short introduction movie and orientation speech with - what? like 80 other people? 100? There's a lot of people here. The place we wait in reminds me of a big library without the books. Tons of tables and chairs, and even some desks with several electrical outlets and quite room. Every 20-30 minutes or so, a group of jurors are called to the font desk to be questioned by some ... people (I forget this part because I wasn't really paying attention to the movie) to assess if they can be assigned to a case or not. Lunch is 90 minutes - that's AWESOME. The cafeteria is way over-priced. I bought an apple, an individual-serving of hummus, a yogurt, and a soda and it was over $7. C'mon now. I wasn't called after lunch either. Dismissed at 3:30pm. I literally got 3 days of work done in a single day at Jury Duty because I didn't have a single meeting on my schedule. Sweet.
Day 2:
Arrived at 9:30am because the two accidents on I-71 made my 30 minute commute over an hour. I walked in and the awesome ladies at the front desk gave me a, "Tsk, Tsk," then a wink. If you call ahead and let them know you're going to be late, it's not a big deal at all. I should have taken advantage of that, but I'm too nice and honest :)
Since I have never enjoyed a 90 minute lunch before, I decided to go out around the city this time, and walked down Ontario to Public Square. There were a half dozen amazing food trucks parked around Public Square with an amazing band paying homage to the Beatles and Monkees where I parked myself and sang along, munching on some amazing fish tacos by whatever Paddy Wagon I went to - it was Irish... I should've remembered the name. Then, I got hit on by some passerby (which was AWESOME, because I totally felt fat all month) so I scurried away back to the jury commission because I was frightened to be by myself. Yes, I'm 28. So what.
Then did more work -Dismissed at 3:30pm.
Day 3:
Same thing - did a lot of work, called into a few conference calls, listened to people getting called in groups (never my name). At lunch I went to Bar Louie by myself to have some lunch and read for a bit. I got told by a homeless man that I was beautiful, and that made me happy :) Came back, did some more work, and was dismissed at 3:30pm.
Day 4:
Same thing, except this time I packed my lunch because I wanted to snatch up one of those awesome desk seats with all the electrical outlets. I think people would arrive super early to snag them, but my approach was to wait until everybody went to lunch, then stole someone's seat. Totally worked.
That's the only time I actually got work done because I was chatting it up with an old man all morning - he was super conversational. He said probably twice, "Well you should get back to your work," but then he just switched subjects and carried on! It would have been rude to dismiss him. Plus, I liked the company, and the man reminded me of my father - I thought he was very sweet.
THEN a speaker came on at 2:00 saying that all "Monday Jurors with last names starting with A through L" were dismissed. C'MON! I hate being at the end of the alphabet.
But hurray! Finally dismissed, and they thanked me for my time, and told me my jury period was over. They gave me a certificate to hand in at work that said I made $80. Sweet.
The End
That's it! That was my whole jury duty experience. I never got into a court room, nor was I even questioned by a lawyer :( BUT, that's a great thing, because I had all this non-interrupted time (minus old man convo time on day 4) to do so much work that I'm ahead of my own schedule! And now, I don't have to serve for another 2 years. So good for me.
I was bummed about getting Jury Duty in the city of Cleveland at first - but actually loved it in the end! Here's a recap of my entire experience -
How I got my First Call to Serve Postponed:
I actually got called to Jury Duty several weeks ago, but I got it postponed until now. I was freaking out because I had an agency that I work with flying in that week, and had to get out of it. Really all you have to do to get it postponed is go up to the Jury Commission main desk and ask to postpone your duty, even on the morning of - no letter or reason needed. They're super nice about it. I literally loved the front desk - I was all freaking out and shaking and giving a huge explanation of why I couldn't serve that week. The lady at the front desk looked at me with the kindest eyes and swatted her hand back and forth with a, "Don't worry about it, honey - when can you serve?" And that was it.
Serving My Time... Isn't Bad at All!
So now I'm here and serving my duty, and I have to say, it's been very pleasant.
Day 1:
Arrived at 8:00am, waited in line for a bit to get my badge, then watched a short introduction movie and orientation speech with - what? like 80 other people? 100? There's a lot of people here. The place we wait in reminds me of a big library without the books. Tons of tables and chairs, and even some desks with several electrical outlets and quite room. Every 20-30 minutes or so, a group of jurors are called to the font desk to be questioned by some ... people (I forget this part because I wasn't really paying attention to the movie) to assess if they can be assigned to a case or not. Lunch is 90 minutes - that's AWESOME. The cafeteria is way over-priced. I bought an apple, an individual-serving of hummus, a yogurt, and a soda and it was over $7. C'mon now. I wasn't called after lunch either. Dismissed at 3:30pm. I literally got 3 days of work done in a single day at Jury Duty because I didn't have a single meeting on my schedule. Sweet.
Day 2:
Arrived at 9:30am because the two accidents on I-71 made my 30 minute commute over an hour. I walked in and the awesome ladies at the front desk gave me a, "Tsk, Tsk," then a wink. If you call ahead and let them know you're going to be late, it's not a big deal at all. I should have taken advantage of that, but I'm too nice and honest :)
Since I have never enjoyed a 90 minute lunch before, I decided to go out around the city this time, and walked down Ontario to Public Square. There were a half dozen amazing food trucks parked around Public Square with an amazing band paying homage to the Beatles and Monkees where I parked myself and sang along, munching on some amazing fish tacos by whatever Paddy Wagon I went to - it was Irish... I should've remembered the name. Then, I got hit on by some passerby (which was AWESOME, because I totally felt fat all month) so I scurried away back to the jury commission because I was frightened to be by myself. Yes, I'm 28. So what.
Then did more work -Dismissed at 3:30pm.
Day 3:
Same thing - did a lot of work, called into a few conference calls, listened to people getting called in groups (never my name). At lunch I went to Bar Louie by myself to have some lunch and read for a bit. I got told by a homeless man that I was beautiful, and that made me happy :) Came back, did some more work, and was dismissed at 3:30pm.
Day 4:
Same thing, except this time I packed my lunch because I wanted to snatch up one of those awesome desk seats with all the electrical outlets. I think people would arrive super early to snag them, but my approach was to wait until everybody went to lunch, then stole someone's seat. Totally worked.
That's the only time I actually got work done because I was chatting it up with an old man all morning - he was super conversational. He said probably twice, "Well you should get back to your work," but then he just switched subjects and carried on! It would have been rude to dismiss him. Plus, I liked the company, and the man reminded me of my father - I thought he was very sweet.
THEN a speaker came on at 2:00 saying that all "Monday Jurors with last names starting with A through L" were dismissed. C'MON! I hate being at the end of the alphabet.
But hurray! Finally dismissed, and they thanked me for my time, and told me my jury period was over. They gave me a certificate to hand in at work that said I made $80. Sweet.
The End
That's it! That was my whole jury duty experience. I never got into a court room, nor was I even questioned by a lawyer :( BUT, that's a great thing, because I had all this non-interrupted time (minus old man convo time on day 4) to do so much work that I'm ahead of my own schedule! And now, I don't have to serve for another 2 years. So good for me.
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