For whatever strange reason, I’ve decided to start using disposable cameras. They’re not good for the environment, they’re eventually more expensive than a digital camera & you can’t easily edit the photos. Plus, I broke my digital camera in a drunken stupor at a Blake Shelton concert last year and have failed to get it fixed. Tartar sauce.

But, excluding all the negatives, there’s nothing better than waiting for the 6×4 photos to be developed at Target. Then realizing that my brother got his hands on it at one point and now I have a slew of wonderful photos of the inside of his mouth .. (I don’t understand the obsession with dental pictures) ALSO, the process of winding up the camera and the little “snap” when you take the picture – so satisfying.

So here’s to you, Kodak. Keep making those little cameras and I’ll continue using them.


          My story isn’t of any importance – I didn’t lose any family – I didn’t lose any friends – My life wasn’t directly affected at 8:46 a.m. I was in my fifth grade class when everything changed. Mrs. Tucker continued teaching although every five-minutes her phone would ring, she would talk quietly to the person on the other end, hang up and continue teaching. Every 10 minutes, a parent would knock on our classroom door and take their student away. Some of the parents would smile, hoping to convince us that nothing was wrong. Other parents would walk in crying. They wouldn’t answer any questions directed at them; “Mom, why are you here?” “Dad, what’s wrong?” — they just walked in & walked out.

I remember asking Mrs. Tucker –

“Why is everyone leaving?”

(I was jealous that I had to stay.)

“There are a lot of doctors appointments today.”

(She lied.)

“Maybe my Mom forgot to call. Do I need one? I should probably get one.”

“No, Anna. You don’t need one.”

By noon, there were only four kids left in my class, including myself. Mrs. Tucker announced that we would be joining another class. She walked the four of us down the hall to another classroom – the teacher of that class came out with her bag on her shoulder, said “thank you” to Mrs. Tucker, and hurried down the hallway. “Where is Mrs. K going?” “She’s going to visit her son in the City. He works at the World Trade Center.” I thought it was strange that she would drive the hour to New York City in the middle of the school day, just to visit her son. But I thought it was nice of her anyway. He would probably like to see his Mom. I always like to see my Mom.

We all sat at our desks – Mrs. Tucker said she had nothing left to teach – the buses were outside in the pick up area and we would be going home early today. She said our homework was to ask our parents “what happened.” That was a little less detailed than I would have liked. Was I supposed to write a paper? When the bus driver came to my stop, he drove all the way up my long, wooded driveway – he had never done that before – and made sure my parents were home before I could get off the bus.

That evening, I was glued to the television. I watched the buildings collapse over-and-over-and-over. I thought about Mrs. K’s son. I wondered if she knew what happened. Mom called my neighbors, the Andersons, to see if Mr. Anderson had gotten home. He said he had walked home from his office in Queens. Even I knew that was over an hour drive.

The next week of school was chaos. Some students weren’t in school. Some teachers didn’t show up to teach. Every afternoon I would come home and watch the news – watch the towers collapse over-and-over-and-over again.

We didn’t visit the City until November. We walked around Ground Zero – which was still an enormous pile of metal and paper. The whole city smelt awful. Businessmen and women would walk around in their suits – holding a mask to their faces to keep from breathing the dust that remained in the air even a month and a half later.

I have a different story from my friends who grew up in Minnesota. For them, it happened at 7:46 – before they went to school. They didn’t know anyone in New York. They didn’t know what the World Trade Centers were. They had never stood below them and squinted up to see the very top floors. My heart goes out to all 3,000 victims of the September 11th attacks and their families who have spent the last 10 years without them.

51 Days To Halloween

Too early to start planning costumes? Hell no. As I was driving the five hours home yesterday evening – a few ideas popped into my head. Good ideas. The best ideas I’ve ever thought of in my life. The original plan was to be Sarah Palin – just so I could wear a power-suit and walk around parties saying “I love Ameerica.” But I decided I’d get annoyed with myself.

LUCKILY, there are always more Halloween parties than I can count on my fingers at universities, so I don’t have to decide on just one costume idea.

Costume Idea #1: The Belieber.

I’m gonna go ahead and follow Gaga’s footsteps in the 2011 MTV Video Music Awards, I’m going to be a boy. Not just any boy. THE boy. Justin Bieber. Or as I say, The J-Beebz. I found a wig. I’ll tape down my boobz, the whole she-bang. Or he-bang. HA, solid joke.

Costume Idea #2: Road Kill

There’s no creative name for this one… I’m going to be road kill. Like I said, I came up with the ideas while I was driving home on I-94. I got bunny ears and a bunny tail. Most girls would go “sexy bunny” – add some lingerie and call it good. I’m not most girls. I’m going to wear the shit out of this costume – cover myself in blood and bruises and tire marks.

Either way – I enjoy going against the grain. Every other 20-something university student in America will be dressed in some skanky-ass nurse-cop-whatever costume while I’m crushin’ the dance floor in my Belieber-Dead-Beaver costumes.

No, I don’t intend on getting any boys attention that night.

Stay tuned for pictures in exactly 52 days!

Previous Post

The weekend @ the cabin was a blast-in-a-glass .. we spent some time at an art-fair (too bad everything was hideously over priced) and even more time on the water. Like true Minnesotan’s we ignored the weather and went wake-boarding in 50 degrees. A bit nipply but the 71 degree water felt like a bathtub.

Bad, JCPenney! Bad!

>>J.C. Penney T-Shirt Fail<<

^^Read that!^^

I came across a great news article on Yahoo! this morning as I was checking my e-mail.. You know all those little girl t-shirts in retail stores that say things like “Hot Stuff” and “I’m too pretty for you” ? Apparently, I’m not the only one who has been totally grossed out by those for years! Good to know :))

If you don’t have time to read the article, I’ve picked out some key points I liked…

“Thanks, major clothing retailers. We struggle to teach our girls that beauty isn’t everything, that they don’t have to play dumb in order to be popular, that women can be both smart and pretty.  But, even though studies show that girls are as good at math as boys, even with beautiful movie stars earning Ivy League degrees in between blockbuster hits, the stereotypes persist—thanks in large part to messages like the one on that “cute and sassy” T-shirt marketed to girls age 7 to 16.”

“It incorporates all of the wrong messages for girls,” [Designer Melissa Wardy] adds. “Why are we conditioning kids to wear something that degrades their self-worth?

“There’s nothing wrong with being girly,” Wardy says. “I’m not anti-pink. I’m not anti-princess. I’m anti-limitations.”

Melissa Wardy is my newest girl-crush. Any moms out there who may have stumbled across my Blog .. please, read the t-shirts your daughters want for school BEFORE you buy them! And if that’s not enough for you – know that those t-shirts were most-likely made by little girls in Asia who make less than 10 cents a day just to feed their family a bowl of rice. (I don’t know that for sure…)

I’ll wrap it up now, promise. I’d like to leave you with a link to Melissa Wardy’s collection of little girl clothing :)) Get it Wardy!

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