Pieces of Youth

I am sitting in a hotel room in Fredericksburg on a balmy August night. I am immersed in the beauty of the hill country and it is very late. Yet instead of sleeping, I am coaxing my Pandora.com station into replaying my heady youth. Specifically: MaryT at age 16.5, in the depths of the Jewel Kilcher Pieces of You/ Blondie's Greatest Hits phase. What has effected this harkening back to more awkward times? In a word: vampires.

No, a vampire. Or better still, a book about some fictional vampires. Well, fictional obviously, though I have to admit that in the throes of my reading, I occasionally pause to look around and check that the coast is clear of "the cold ones."

But I'm not awake because of a fear of them, even though I am oftentimes partial to irrational fears. No, I'm awake because I had a very large cup of coffee with an overly rich Fredericksburg-riffic dinner. And because of Edward Cullen. The vampire, you know.

A few weeks ago, I first heard about the Twilight books and discussed reading them with Sonnie, noting my interest based on their surge in popularity. Shortly thereafter, Sonnie loaned me her 15-year-old cousin's copy and it sat on my night table untouched while I thumbed through catalogs and newspapers in the evenings. This was mostly (if not entirely) because I am a snob who felt repelled by the general teen aura the book gave me. High school was plenty the first time, thank you. Then last week, I picked it up in earnest and now, well, I feel like an ovalteen. I just finished the second book (600 pages in two days here, people) and I'm salivating to get my hands on the third tomorrow, while simultaneously singing along with No Doubt's biggest hits of 1997.

Don't speak. I know what you're thinking.... Hush, hush, darling. Indeed. But as Jo reminded me the other day, we shouldn't have guilty pleasures in life: just pleasures. And because this is so, I am not balking (too much) at my next announcement, which is my explanation for this vampire-induced teen nostalgia.

I have the hots for a fictional, teen vampire of exceptional attractiveness (especially considering the movie version stars Cedric Diggory--even if I do disagree with Cho Chang's choices in general), a feeling that takes me back to a simpler time when I taped pictures of the silver screen's most beautiful around my bedroom and wondered what love was like. And maybe the innocence remembered is the most seductive part of this whole vampire-book reading experience. I hope so. There is definitely not room in my marriage for a vampire. Molly already takes up all the leg room in mine and Matt's bed.

P.S. It is completely spooky how much of ages 16-18 is being covered by my Pandora station. I hate being such a pegable demographic! Damn you, Dido and Alanis!

Welcome Freshmen!

Dear College Students,

Your are not required to actually become a stereotype in order to make it through college. I am serious. You do not have to gain "the freshman 15" in order to take a P.E. class. You do not have to have a bad experience with tequila to fulfill any kind of general ed. requirement. And for God's sake, if your parents are buying, there is no good reason to purchase case upon case of Top Ramen. Campbell's Select, people! Campbell's Select!

Yes, it's school time again in SFA-land and new students are arriving with loads of dorm-sized crap daily. Matt overheard a girl and her mom in the store the other day, after the girl had shoved an econopack of Ramen into the cart and voicing her excitement over starting college.
"How about soups?" her mom asked. "And a can opener?"
"Soups are okay," said the teen. "But I don't want to get a can opener now."
"But dear," said her mom. "How will you open the soup?"
"I'll just buy a can opener when I am ready to open it," said she of the teen league.

I hope "Critical Thinking 101" is on her course schedule this fall or the world is about to become a very cold, soupless place.

Of Sticks and Stones

My roaring return to the blogging world comes in light of a recent health crisis which keeps me homebound. I, friends, am the proud owner of a kidney stone. Yes, just one, and not very big, but HOLY COW 2mm packs quite a wallop in the pain department. Morphine ahoy! (My understanding of the reason for intravenous drugs was never so clear.)

It should really be no surprise to me as every year in the days and weeks just before my birthday, all hell breaks loose. No kidding. Remember what happened to poor old Lil Zippy last year? I thought I had gotten off with just a ticket for my expired inspection sticker on the way to Chrissy's b-day at Asianicity. But when I paid the ticket Monday and discovered it was only $10, the Universe decided there was more in store for me yet. But a kidney stone? Are you kidney-ing me? (Jokes like this are very funny after you take a Vicodin.) I really don't know if I'm prepared for what 2009 is going to dish up, because as Chrissy's thoughtful e-card to me said "What doesn't kill us makes us suicidal." My left kidney quite agrees.

By the way, are you drinking enough fluids? I'm concerned that you're not. I really am. There used to always be this joke about how I'm not "much of a drinker" because well, I don't drink much. Not alcohol. Not anything. But this joke was put to rest yesterday when I was told by the ER doctor that I am chronically dehydrated. Ha ha ha ha ha...kidney stone! Don't let this be you! Drink some water now! I insist. In fact, have two glasses. Think of the kid(ney)s!

So now, world, I'm off to enjoy more fluids. But I'll be 28 on Saturday and then your evil-doing has to cease for about 11 months, especially because I am going on a Labor Day Holiday with Team in Austin and I don't take kindly to rain on my Labor Day Holiday parade.

Scattered Pictures of the Way We Were

Oh hello again. Remember how I said it might be awhile before I was back? Well, I'm unpredictable. Maybe that is why I was voted "most unique" from 8th to 12th grade. And speaking of those days, I was just reading my senior yearbook. There are many admonitions that I either vowed to or was made to swear I'd "never forget." I really don't remember any of that, even vaguely.

Especially disturbing is this entry, rather long, in my yearbook by a girl I hardly knew that most people called "Scruffy" behind her back. I don't know why they did that. I'd own up to calling her that myself, but I knew her so little, I called her nothing. So without further ado, the whole odd, cliched thing. Feel free to LOL at will. And in advance [sic].

Mary,
What can I say. The year is already over, and you are never coming back. :( Well life is a game and you can't always play by the rules. So you better take chances because before you know it you will be to old to take them. I hope you have a wonderful time at Rice and keep in contact with me ( my email address is blahblah@edited.com)! I will miss you so much even though I didn't get to know you that will you will always be remembered. You have touched my heart in such a special way that you can never know because you are a VERY special person to me. Love Always, Person

I wish I had heeded her advice about life being a game. I could have been so successful, if only I hadn't played by the rules! In other news, I never want to find out how I touched her heart. I am glad she kept it a secret.

Hello.

Hello, how have you been? You look nice today. Have you done something new with your hair? I know it's been a very long time since we've chatted.

The fact is, French-Roast is on a hiatus. You knew this of course, but now it's official. I am taking some time to sort out my priorities and figure out if they include graduate school or not.

I could blame my absence from blogging on school and work and so forth and so on, but the fact is I have managed my time poorly. I have started and stopped in the middle of a number of blogs, but I doubt that's of interest to you since all you can see is: the monkey doesn't dance anymore.

I apologize. The monkey's legs are tired. The monkey wants to spend some quality time with a sewing machine. The monkey is currently obsessed with making smoothies. The monkey is on the fence about an MA and the hope of one day signing obnoxious emails with MaryT, MA / Boss of You.

While the monkey is resting though, I have gotten an upgrade from Lappy 3000 or whatever I usually call my computer. You know, the one I thought was dead when it was just unplugged? This time, it really was getting on in years and now I have Lappy 5000 and iWeb.

Also, how would you feel if I changed my domain name from F-R after all these years? Talk amongst yourselves; I might not be back for a few...