Still tightly holding onto my year of Pennsylvania living, I ventured across state lines to seek out some good 'ol Yuengling lager. In Philly, there was a beverage store on every corner and a wine & spirits store between each of those. Now that I'm home, though, the closest PA town I can venture to for such stock would be Washington, PA, or as the locals call it, "Little Washington." Why this nickname? The only thing I can figure is it settles any confusion that you may be setting out to Washington, D.C., rather than the town about 30 minutes up I-70.
Anyhow, a friend of mine from undergrad, Scott, was in last week from his new home at Texas A&M where he's a grad student in Chemistry. As we sat reminiscing and such over coffee at The Second Cup coffee shop, we struck up conversation about beer and liquor. I began telling tales of Yuengling, and that's all it took. Scott decided he wanted to take some back to Texas with him. So, he sneakily stuck a proposition into our conversation; he intimated that we should no longer kid about going for some Yuengling, we needed to go, and we needed to do so together...right then. Thus, we filled the CD player in his car with appropriate tunes and set out on the road. After several loops and a bundle of luck, we drove right up to this beverage store that was pretty nice. In addition to any and all beer and beer-like substances, it had candy and chips in bulk! I saw another favorite of mine, Woodchuck Cider, there, and we both grabbed our Yuengling. The catch in PA is that unless you purchase at a bar, you have to purchase a case at a time of beer. Ironically, this law seems to both discourage and enable alcoholism all at once. Think about it. You have to travel further distances for your goods (can't get 'em in the grocery store), but once you travel there, you're rewarded with the standard 6 pack times 4. Come on Pennsylvania!
So, my family got a new side of me. The one who is forced to store a case of Yuengling in her bedroom, slyly sneaking through the living room and dining room en route to the kitchen, with an armful of beer to chill. The supremely cool part of this whole purchase was sharing the case with my good friend Mikey. Sitting on the deck, chatting, and watching some good flicks...all in the company of Yuengling has definitey been a highlight.
As a kid, did you ever crave those summer nights when you could catch lightning bugs as their momentary flashes created an atmosphere full of twinkles? I participated in this activity every summer of my childhood years. In fact, I can remember it being a favorite of mine because it was one of the few times that I could fearlessly hang out with my big brother who also dug lightning bugs. Last night reminded me of these times as my niece asked me to join her on one of her first hunts. Suddenly, I remembered what summer is like for a child. So full of great outdoor fun, and a time to explore things that, someday, will fade away into the distance as more important things move to the forefront.
But, perhaps even more present than this resulting nostalgia was my curiosity. If I blog about this, can everybody relate? Are lightning bugs found everywhere? And, why are lightning bugs...well...lightning bugs? Why do they light up? So, I took a spin on the Fire Files. This helpful website is found on Ohio State's website, and I found it pretty fascinating, especially since it kept things simple and provided answers to all of my lightning bug trivia.
First, lightning bugs are not found any further west than mid-Kansas. There is the occasional one spotted out West, but they're not nearly in the numbers as they are here in the East. And they light up due to a complicated chemical phenomena that I would never be able to properly communicate. But, they do use this aspect of their biology in the mating process. So, next time you see the lightning bugs twinkling all around you, know that they're hearing the sweet music of Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get it On." The site even went so far as to say that the female bugs tend to prefer the males who have the capacity to flash their lights faster. Wonder what the human equivalent of a fast flasher would be?
Long story short, I enjoyed this new spin on an old favorite. And as I encountered one of my worst natural enemies, an eight-legged freak, last night in the bathroom, I thought of how much better the world would be if all bugs were as harmless as my childhood friend, the lightning bug.
As another 4th of July passes, I wonder one thing: Is there anybody who truly digs fireworks displays? I suppose there has to be since it's a huge money-making industry in our country, and random stands pop up all over the place each year, peddaling their best.
I grant the fact that they're kind of like technology. They're kind of awe-inspiring in that someone was able to come up with the idea, create a formula for perfection, and create this trend and tradition. But, when it comes down to it, is one display really any better than another? Is there a real essential difference in fireworks? And are there fireworks afficianados?
I, personally, cannot imagine feeling too terribly connected to something that creates a deafening sound and a brightness barely observable. Again. Fascinating concept. Shoot things in the air that create a scattering of light and explode in the process. But, just as I cannot comprehend folks who take photographs of the stuffed animals at Cabela's, I cannot really comprehend the annual hype surrounding these displays.
Nothing feels better than flattering a friend or family member. Like if you go see a movie and you think, "Wow, that awesome character reminds me of __________." It's always a pleasure to share this information. One of my classic examples of this, and this is because I've used this one quite a few times...Jack Nicholson's character in As Good as it Gets. The poor man is plagued by OCD. Is he an adorable or easy-to-love type? Probably not. Yet, when you spot someone with OCD-like tendencies and they're familiar with this character, they don't feel offended by the fact that I compare them to Jack in this movie. In fact, it usually sets forth a flood of laughs due to some of the situations in the movie.
When I went to the movies tonight and witnessed the embodiment of a truly evil-spirited and self-serving character, I wondered about the effects of breaking the news to someone that they have those same tendencies. Now, I would never do this. But, as I pondered it, I decided it creates quite the divide. While it's totally acceptable to do the one, it's pretty wrong to do the other. But just imagine the damage you could do. This made me wonder who the worst character is to compare someone to. What do you think? I would have to say those such as the druggies in Veronica Guerin or the real sinister type like that. Help me think of others.
After watching the newest version of Pride and Prejudice, I have discovered perhaps the most laudable talent of Jane Austen. I was worried that since I have viewed the A&E version of the story several times that I would not feel this was anything that great; however, I almost immediately fell under Austens still very organic spell.
As I watched the strained interactions between the couples, and especially Elizabeth and Darcy, I realized what I so treasure about these stories and what sets them apart from many stories from the present. The sexual tension and feelings of passion and love that teem these couples' interactions are all clearly communicated through words and actions--but those actions are not nearly what you see on the screen now. The looks, the small movements, the elegant dances, and the eloquently worded letters...these are what tell the story of love in Austen. My preference for this does not at all indicate that I am feeling conservative and prudish about sex on the big screen these days. It's simply that Austen's route, by far, takes much more than some of the modern day stuff. Put two people together who feel very stongly about one another and make them show that love or hate without any self-explanatory or extreme actions that spell out the situation. This is a challenge.
Jane Austen, the filmakers, and the actors and actresses all successfully teased out this rare quality through the making of this brilliant film. Here's to the subtleties of love that make you fall in love with the idea of love all over again.
I've been on a nearly 10 year strike, refusing to watch one of the most raved about movies of last century, Titanic. I had no intention of watching this movie straight through...ever. As flocks of my young teenage friends migrated to the movie theaters two, three, and four times to see the movie, I became a martyr, insisting that I would not see it. Admittedly, most of those young women were going simply because Leonardo DiCaprio was starring in it; but, they went all the same.
Then, during the NCAA basketball tournament, a friend with whom I was watching the sports action kept flipping between the games and this movie. The few scenese I watched that day almost convinced me that I needed to rent it and watch it through. However, I had not followed through with that thought. Then, last night, as I was enjoying my dad's big screen HDTV, flipping through the listings for programming, I came across HBO-HD, which was featuring Titanic at 9:30pm. Late for a 3 1/2 hour movie? Sure. Did I watch? Absolutely.
I have the same thought as my friend, Sara. If you know what happens, there's really no need to watch it. However, what I learned by letting go of my stubborness last night was that the movie was about so much more than the ending of the great ship's journey. The love story and somewhat accurate historical perspective offered through this movie is nothing short of satisfying and entertaining--what movies should be.
Basically, I'm glad I waited to watch the movie until I was older and could appreciate the underlying themes and storylines.
I never had a trampolene as a kid. I don't think I even had the small version of one...remember those predecessors to the now monsterous ones? Part of that was that my mother was a firm believer that you could get seriously injured on one, and another part of it was just that I don't think they were quite as popular then. Now they are.
So, last night, as we held the annual 4th of July gathering at my brother, Ryan's, I finally had a real run-in with the world of the giant trampolene. Sydni was very bored with the group of adults, who found sitting around with beer in hand much more fun than swinging on the swingset or running through the yard with her. Finally, I felt real guilt about her being bored, so I walked back to the back of the yard with her to jump on the big trampolene. We had a blast! I couldn't believe how much air you can get on those things...no wonder kids dig 'em so much! We finished and returned to the house. But, that wasn't the end of the trampolene...
When it was time for the Bethlehem fireworks, a group of us migrated to the back of the yard in order to have a prime spot for seeing the display. Well, my brother and I lacked all patience in waiting for the display, so we decided to take our turn together on the trampolene. And he taught me something fun and new. He told me to sit in the middle of the trampolene while he proceeded to jump very close to me...I flew feet in the air, and neither of us could stop laughing during this time. Oh...and did I mention that we're 24 and 27?
What I learned from this is that it's never too late to experience those things you may have missed as a kid. I never even lamented the fact that I had missed this activity...just think of what else I could have missed!
Nicknames hold a very special place in my family. There are certain family members who are real pros at getting the creative juices flowing and designating such names to individuals. Now, sometimes the names are playful. These nicknames make you laugh or they can be a little game of affection that may be awkward to show otherwise. Unfortunately, there also have to be the times when these names are a little on the cruel side, marking an instance of conflict. In any case, I've recently realized that nicknames undoubtedly hold a definite space in my life...and here's an unforgettable example of how pervasive this habit can be.
My sister's family--she, her son, and her husband--are all members of the Our Lady of Lebanon Church here in Wheeling. The rest of us have grown accustomed to holding activities at the church and have gotten to know the priest there. When this all started, however, everything was very foreign to us...or so I thought. My dad and brother are great at talking with others because they're champion storytellers, especially when the discussion surrounds hunting or fishing. So, at our first gathering where the priest was present, they chatted it up with him. I found this to be very interesting...my dad and brother hanging out with a dude in a collar. Turns out, though, that this guy hunts on the same land that they hunt on occasionally. While I was recovering from the fact that priests are permitted to hunt, my brother was telling of a couple of encounters with the priest on this land during hunting season. The priest allegedly has an issue with practicing moderation in his hunting, so my brother nicknamed him Fr. Slaughter. Because this has a great ring to it and went very well with his stories about the priest, this has been the name that has stuck in my mind since.
This all came back to haunt me the other night as I sat with my college roommate, discussing her job which includes directing the religious education programs at a parish just across the river in Ohio. We were just commenting on a few of the local parishes, and I went to talk about Our Lady of Lebanon and realized that I had no idea what Fr. Slaughter's real name is. When I told her the story, we both got a huge laugh out of it. So, I guess this is a cautionary tale of how nicknames can sneak in place of real names!
Still tightly holding onto my year of Pennsylvania living, I ventured across state lines to seek out some good 'ol Yuengling lager. In Philly, there was a beverage store on every corner and a wine & spirits store between each of those. Now that I'm home, though, the closest PA town I can venture to for such stock would be Washington, PA, or as the locals call it, "Little Washington." Why this nickname? The only thing I can figure is it settles any confusion that you may be setting out to Washington, D.C., rather than the town about 30 minutes up I-70. 
