Rhubarb pie
Potatoes with chives
with cheeseburgers and watermelon saladA good team effort (thanks to Chris)...and a most excellent meal!
Sunday, May 25, 2008
mmmm, food
Rhubarb piePotatoes with chiveswith cheeseburgers and watermelon saladA good team effort (thanks to Chris)...and a most excellent meal!
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Elizabeth and her stomach go to White Castle
A few weeks ago, my co-workers decided that they wanted to eat from White Castle for lunch. Knowing that this was a mid-western cultural phenomenon I had yet to experience, I decided to join them. I'm not really sure if you could technically call what I ate "a hamburger" but it was some sort of meat smothered in onions and cheese. Thankfully it was small, and I had the good sense to only eat one. It was completely disgusting if you thought about it for too long, but on the other hand it's some pretty good junky junk food. I'm probably not going back, but it was a positive first experience, and I feel more geographically adjusted for it. :)
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
40 minutes: bed to plane
As some of you may know, I recently took a trip to Bloomington, Indiana to experience the greatest college weekend ... the Little 500 bike race. While the race and the visit in B-town were fun and exciting and a great time visiting with old friends, that's not the topic of this post. At the moment, I'd like to share with you all the tale of getting to Bloomington.
I had planned to fly out of Minnesota on Friday morning at 6am. This would, theoretically enable me to get into town in time to have lunch with my former co-workers and get to the women's race by 4:00 pm. My plan was to get up at 3:15 am to catch the bus and train that would take me to the airport, arriving around 5am, plenty of time to get to the gate and make a last minute potty stop. I have to believe that this plan would have worked brilliantly had it not been for one tiny detail: I set my alarm for 3:15 am, but I did not turn it on. So instead of getting up at the appointed time, I awoke at 5:01 am. It took me about 5 seconds to realize what was going on. Then it took another 2 seconds to realize that I needed to kick it into serious high gear! I was able to roust my friend Chris, who thankfully does not live far from my apartment, to come drive me to the airport, which is also thankfully not too far from my apartment. I was heading out the door at 5:13 am. I was racing out of the car into the airport at 5:29 am. 31 minutes before the plane was scheduled to have lift-off.
It was at this point that I realized that the huge long line I saw upon entering the terminal a was not, as I had hoped, the line for ticketing (I had thankfully printed off my boarding pass before arriving), but was in fact the line to get through security. Crap. Another 2 seconds and I realized that there was no way I was going to have made it this far only to miss the plane because of a line. So I plucked up my courage and started from the end of the line, one by one, politely requesting to go ahead of each person. I got within about 6 people from the front and was denied passing, but at that point I needed time to untie my shoes and remove my coat in preparation for the scanners anyway. I arrived at the gate and got right into line. And by 5:41 am, a mere 40 minutes after I'd gotten out of my bed, I was sitting in my seat on a plane that would eventually take me to Indiana.
Now, the fact that the plane did not leave for another 50 minutes is a detail that can be ignored at the moment. I like to revel in the fact that I was able to get it together enough to make my plane, even if it was primarily motivated by the fact that I'd be out a considerable chunk of change if I missed the flight.
"Aww yeah, I made it here baby!"
I had planned to fly out of Minnesota on Friday morning at 6am. This would, theoretically enable me to get into town in time to have lunch with my former co-workers and get to the women's race by 4:00 pm. My plan was to get up at 3:15 am to catch the bus and train that would take me to the airport, arriving around 5am, plenty of time to get to the gate and make a last minute potty stop. I have to believe that this plan would have worked brilliantly had it not been for one tiny detail: I set my alarm for 3:15 am, but I did not turn it on. So instead of getting up at the appointed time, I awoke at 5:01 am. It took me about 5 seconds to realize what was going on. Then it took another 2 seconds to realize that I needed to kick it into serious high gear! I was able to roust my friend Chris, who thankfully does not live far from my apartment, to come drive me to the airport, which is also thankfully not too far from my apartment. I was heading out the door at 5:13 am. I was racing out of the car into the airport at 5:29 am. 31 minutes before the plane was scheduled to have lift-off.
It was at this point that I realized that the huge long line I saw upon entering the terminal a was not, as I had hoped, the line for ticketing (I had thankfully printed off my boarding pass before arriving), but was in fact the line to get through security. Crap. Another 2 seconds and I realized that there was no way I was going to have made it this far only to miss the plane because of a line. So I plucked up my courage and started from the end of the line, one by one, politely requesting to go ahead of each person. I got within about 6 people from the front and was denied passing, but at that point I needed time to untie my shoes and remove my coat in preparation for the scanners anyway. I arrived at the gate and got right into line. And by 5:41 am, a mere 40 minutes after I'd gotten out of my bed, I was sitting in my seat on a plane that would eventually take me to Indiana.
Now, the fact that the plane did not leave for another 50 minutes is a detail that can be ignored at the moment. I like to revel in the fact that I was able to get it together enough to make my plane, even if it was primarily motivated by the fact that I'd be out a considerable chunk of change if I missed the flight.
"Aww yeah, I made it here baby!"Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
caught
Have you ever been caught singing along to hold music on the phone? Well, I'm not sure how much this woman actually heard me, but I was definitely humming along to "Dancing in the Moonlight" by Lionel Richie. What, it's a good song! :)
Thursday, February 21, 2008
responding to a comment
A comment made by my Aunt Maggie in the last entry has prompted me to respond for all the world to see/read. "Since when am I Lizzie?" Good question. Although a more appropriate question to me is "Since WHERE am I Lizzie?"
In my life, I have had many nicknames, for-shorts, or name taunts. One of these names is Lizzie. I found that Lizzie came out in full force when I was studying abroad in Botswana. I can't recall if it was my fellow American students or the Batswana who decided that Lizzie was what they were going to call me, but somehow it stuck. I kind of liked it, actually. When I was 13, I definitely would NOT have liked it, but then, at a mature 20 years old, it was catchy. I think it was a bit homey feeling, so I liked it in that it made me feel comforted being so far away from my home. So Lizzie is associated with Botswana, for me.
So I sometimes refer to myself as Lizzie, when it feels like Elizabeth or Liz is just too pedestrian for the moment. Overall though, I refer to myself as Elizabeth, and probably alway will. I like my name. I don't mind when people call me other things, but I'm content with Elizabeth too.
My family calls me Elizabeth too, as do my co-workers mostly. I find that unless someone has a strong urge to shorten names, they usually end up calling me the name I am first are introduced with.
In high school, Liz started to become more and more popular (the name, not the person!). My fellow band members called me Beth, and my volleyball teammates called me Mikey (thanks to the clever imagination of one when she found out my middle name was Michael). I could very easily narrow down who was calling me from across the hall by the name they used.
In college, there were four Elizabeths on my hall alone, so I very quickly became Liz (as different from Liz K. and Lizzie B. and the other Elizabeth who never made it in the first place).
In elementary school, some silly boys in the neighborhood called me Lizard-breath, and to that I say "very creative boys, never heard that one before."
Another nickname I've gotten from family, mainly my mother is a bit of a progression. Elizabeth, Elizabean, Beans, Beanie, Beano.
So I pretty much respond to whatever name. And I enjoy the variety. One of my current co-workers even proposed calling me Betty, but that doesn't seem to have stuck.
In my life, I have had many nicknames, for-shorts, or name taunts. One of these names is Lizzie. I found that Lizzie came out in full force when I was studying abroad in Botswana. I can't recall if it was my fellow American students or the Batswana who decided that Lizzie was what they were going to call me, but somehow it stuck. I kind of liked it, actually. When I was 13, I definitely would NOT have liked it, but then, at a mature 20 years old, it was catchy. I think it was a bit homey feeling, so I liked it in that it made me feel comforted being so far away from my home. So Lizzie is associated with Botswana, for me.
So I sometimes refer to myself as Lizzie, when it feels like Elizabeth or Liz is just too pedestrian for the moment. Overall though, I refer to myself as Elizabeth, and probably alway will. I like my name. I don't mind when people call me other things, but I'm content with Elizabeth too.
My family calls me Elizabeth too, as do my co-workers mostly. I find that unless someone has a strong urge to shorten names, they usually end up calling me the name I am first are introduced with.
In high school, Liz started to become more and more popular (the name, not the person!). My fellow band members called me Beth, and my volleyball teammates called me Mikey (thanks to the clever imagination of one when she found out my middle name was Michael). I could very easily narrow down who was calling me from across the hall by the name they used.
In college, there were four Elizabeths on my hall alone, so I very quickly became Liz (as different from Liz K. and Lizzie B. and the other Elizabeth who never made it in the first place).
In elementary school, some silly boys in the neighborhood called me Lizard-breath, and to that I say "very creative boys, never heard that one before."
Another nickname I've gotten from family, mainly my mother is a bit of a progression. Elizabeth, Elizabean, Beans, Beanie, Beano.
So I pretty much respond to whatever name. And I enjoy the variety. One of my current co-workers even proposed calling me Betty, but that doesn't seem to have stuck.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Happy Valentine's Day!
Well, I had to spend my Valentine's Day staying late at work (not too late)...but it was all ok in the end because I was wearing my Valentine's Day socks. :)
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