Leavin' on a Jet Plane

I'm retiring early and heading south. Check out our hot new website.

Ohio State is to Beast as Michigan is to Victim

It's that time of year again... Time for my annual Thanksgiving rant about the weather. These posts are pretty ironic, considering the occasion, but maybe this one will be a breath of fresh air.

As I looked back and read my Thanksgiving posts from last year and two years ago, I noted two improvements:

1. It's not snowing this time around. I like that. Instead of snow, we're experiencing Cleveland's version of "sunny" and about 50 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius). And this makes me happy, as long as I don't acknowledge my plummeting standards.
End: weather.
And noooow some introspection...

2. Judging by those old posts, I feel more thankful this year... Thankful that I'm not spending this winter in freezing, grey Cleveland. Thankful for a loving, supportive, and fun family. Thankful for friends that are worth crossing state lines for on a weekly basis...friends whom I will miss dearly during our three month separation. And last but definitely not least, I'm thankful that this life is just a shadow of what's to come for those who know and truly believe in Jesus Christ. Nothing compares to that...that hope, that relationship, that Savior. Yet I often find myself distracted from what really matters......that.

Business Plan

Surely you've heard of canola oil, olive oil, and corn oil. How about soybean, sunflower, palm, and peanut oils?

Imagine how many olives, peanuts, and ears of corn we could save from the press by harvesting oil from a renewable source. Well. I propose that we replace these common cooking oils with human oil. Yes, human oil.

Everyday countless teenagers waste precious oil as they lather and rinse their greasy faces. Instead, young entrepreneurs could harvest this oil and make a bundle off their skin.

Save some veggies, some nuts, some soap. It's a win-win proposition, really.

Sore Muscles

My arms and back are sore, and I love it. There's nothing like stretching out and feeling yesterday's workout. But ironically enough, the same sensation of soreness can be awfully unpleasant when it results from sleeping on the ground or in a strange position.

I wish sleep deprivation worked the same way as muscle exhaustion. When you stay up late doing something fun and exciting or wake up early to do something constructive, the resulting tiredness would be gratifying. If that were the case, my droopy eyelids would feel so good right now.

I'm not going to mention any names, but...

My Christmas present arrived in the mail yesterday...

And I can't wait to try it out. This waterproof camera case will allow me to take pictures up to 130 feet under water. Belizean reef, here I come!

Clementines!

It's almost that time of the year again...

Scars Will Heal

It was like any other evening. We hugged, we said goodnight, and we retreated to our rooms until the morning. Unlike other nights, however, my sleep was frequently disturbed. I was uneasy, but I didn't know why. At one point I heard a creak and got out of bed to look around: I had to make sure I was alone in my room. And I was. Clearly it was all in my head. So I lied down on my back - alert and very much awake - for what seemed like an eternity before my fear gave way to drowziness. Everything's...just...fine... And it was.

Before long, however, my sleep was disrupted again as I felt a tug on the blanket near my foot. Still on my back (and I never sleep on my back) from the previous apprehension, I reflexively sat straight up and shouted "WHAT THE!!" As my eyes adjusted and I scanned the dark room, I saw that the door was open. "Mom must've come in to close a window," I thought to myself as I drifted off. The steady murmur of the bedroom air conditioner lulled me back to sleep. Everything's...all...right...

But the next time I was awakened from my slumber it was by my parents' screaming:
"Is she in there?!?!"
"Yeah, she's here."

My eyes shot open as Mom joined Dad in the doorway of my room. They spared no time in sharing the news. "Libby, we were robbed last night!!"

My frenzied parents, too, had just gotten up. Waking up in a strangely warm room, my mom realized that their bedroom door was open (and thus allowing the air conditioning to escape), so she got up to close it. But when she stepped out of bed, my mom found her bedside drawer wide open and her jewelry spread all over the floor. She yelled for my dad to wake up, and together they rushed into my room.

Our brains were still asleep, yet our bodies were running entirely on adrenaline as we attempted to figure out what had happened. The morning was a whirlwind. Downstairs, we found that four of the louvers from one window had been removed and thrown in the sand outside. Our light-weight wicker couch had been moved to clear the entryway; and the burglar(s) had also moved my dad's clothes from the floor next to his bed to a chair downstairs. My mom called the police immediately. While we waited, we composed a list of the plunder:

• my four-year-old digital camera
• my mom's broken digital camera
• a carton of grape juice (which was left half-empty outside of our house)
• 1.5 pairs of cheap earrings
• Joe's $5 sunglasses
• the mouse from a laptop, but not the computer itself *

* The laptop was unplugged, and the modem was pulled over on its side. Thus, we deduced that the thief must have made a noise while tugging at the electronics, which caused someone to stir in bed. This probably scared him out of the bedroom before the job was complete.

When the police finally arrived three hours later, they fingerprinted the removed louvers, which were scattered (unbroken) on the sand beneath the entry window. They also fingerprinted the juice carton and the door of our refridgerator. The police reasoned that it was probably two young men, and they explained that burglars usually search bedrooms for valuables while crawling along the floor next to beds. When I heard this, my mind flashed back to tug on my blanket and the open door. There was someone there! The rat-man had crawled next to me...which explains why I didn't see him when I sat up in bed. That was the creepiest feeling of all.

After the police had gathered the evidence, they instructed us to make police reports "sometime today" at the police station. Shortly after they left, my mom found a purple comb with a few tangled strands of black, kinky, wiry hair next to the window. Using tweezers, my dad placed the comb in a baggie.

My parents and I were finally left alone to debrief. We shared the bond of victimization and talked about what had happened, what might have happened, and what we should do about it. I was totally paraniod and kept advising my parents not to make "I can't believe he missed this" comments. After all, you never know who's listening.

My brothers - who were staying in the [more burglar-proof] villa behind our house - were still asleep. We woke them up to inform them of the situation. And once the boys were awake and on the lookout, my parents and I took our purple comb to San Pedro and made our police reports. [The police station itself is a trip. One old man in a cell kept begging my dad for bail money, but that's another story for another day.]

For days, the burglary strongly affected my thinking. Every black man with long-ish, kinky hair was a suspect. And at the sight of such hair I thought to myself, "Are you the one who came in my room while I was sleeping?" I realize that my suspicions were probably all wrong, and maybe I should be ashamed of this...but I'm not. Being burglarized put me - the victim - on the defensive against the entire population of suspects. I was afraid to sleep, afraid to spend a night in that room again, afraid to be alone outside at night, afraid to talk too loud about the burglary, afraid, afraid, afraid...

My family was helpful in dealing with and confronting this fear. We took prayer walks around our yard before going to bed, and Brian even let me sleep in the other bed in his room. I placed plastic cups on each window sill in the villa so that we would wake up if anyone tried to enter; and although my brothers rolled their eyes, they put up with this oddity. In time, the fear lessened. But when the time came to return to the US, I was relieved.

Fortunately, my parents have taken extensive measures to secure our home. I just hope this fear will be a distant memory as I return to Ambergris Caye.

Watch Out for the Blue-Ringed Octopus

My lucky little brother is going to study abroad in Australia next year. Such a smart decision. Just imagine:

Surfing...
The Great Barrier Reef...
Rainforests...
Plus, Aussies are totally chill.

What a life. I'm jealous. I need an excuse to live in Australia for awhile.

Indecisive, or Just Plain Lazy

Blog topics. Sometimes they flow so naturally, and sometimes they just don't happen. Recently I've had lots of ideas, but few of them ever make it to the keyboard...let alone to the internet. Here are a few that almost made the cut:

1. Photo story of the weirdest blister I've ever had (Rated R for the vomit factor)
2. Movie review - "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan"
3. Stories about someone I know who reminds me of Borat (probably not appropriate to post, unfortunately)
4. The Ohio Fair Minimum Wage Amendment - and why I am definitely not voting for it (boring)
5. Profile of a lifelong role model: my dad (Rated PG-13 for the sappy factor)
6. Outline of my typical day in Belize (everyone who cares probably already knows)

Online Quizzes: Bored people make 'em, bored people take 'em. So I asked these faceless strangers who I am, and here's what they told me...

You Are Chicken

Bah! You're hardly meat. But you are quite popular, and people aspire to taste like you. You're probably quite skinny and free of vices. Except letting people eat your eggs.

What Kind of Meat Are You?

Disturbing. I don't think people want to "taste like me" and I'm not skinny. Is caffeine a vice? Yes. But still... blogthings.com is wrong. I ain't no chicken.

Your Inner European is Swedish!

Relaxed and peaceful. You like to kick back and enjoy life.

Who's Your Inner European?

True most of the time.

Your Mommy Is Ayn Rand

What You Call Her: Ma What people say about yo momma: Yo momma so ugly when she joined an ugly contest, they said "Sorry, no professionals."

Who's Your Mommy?

This is entirely untrue...but still funny.

Your Daddy Is Ozzy Osbourne

What You Call Him: Daddy-o Why You Love Him: He takes you to church

Who's Your Daddy?

100% truth.

You Are 40% Weird

Normal enough to know that you're weird... But too damn weird to do anything about it!

How Weird Are You?

Also true.

Your Mood Ring is Orange

Stimulating ideas Daring Full of desires

Mood Ring Generator

I do like orange.

On Average, You Would Sell Out For

$196,336

At What Price Would You Sell Out?

This quiz had questions like "For 10 million dollars, would you spike everyone's drink with LSD on Thanksgiving?" Of course the answer is yes. DUH.

You Are

A Drunk Pumpkin Face You would make a good pumpkin martini.

What's Your Pumpkin Face?

Haha. I love it.

You Are Midnight

You are more than a little eccentric, and you're apt to keep very unusual habits. Whether you're a nightowl, living in a commune, or taking a vow of silence - you like to experiment with your lifestyle. Expressing your individuality is important to you, and you often lie awake in bed thinking about the world and your place in it. You enjoy staying home, but that doesn't mean you're a hermit. You also appreciate quality time with family and close friends.

What Time Of Day Are You?

Mostly true.

Online Quizzes: So bad they're good. (More available upon request.)