I Eat Food

It's startling how much inspiration there is for me to write this blog. Because I love food. Dearly. And in the dog world, I'd be the chunkier one who eats what the little dogs leave in their bowls. In the grade school kids at school world, I'm the one who wants Swiss rolls every day.

I can't even begin to recount where this affair with food began, so I'm going to just begin with the present moment and then flash back if you will. It's 8:55 pm right now and I just began sipping on a chocolate chip milkshake from Dairy Queen. Thanksgiving was three days ago and I followed suit with the rest of America and ate a bunch and went back for seconds (and thirds--is that too much to confess?). I had to travel 10 hours each way to and from South Dakota, so it required a hefty amount of sit time, which I'm good at, and it required that for lunch I'd stop at McDonalds and buy chicken nuggets (but that's a story to come). Anyway, it was just last weekend that I was in Chicago for a conference and so I ate out every meal there, too. The rooms don't have refrigerators.

Nevertheless, after 8ish days of a fast food and turkey marathon, I'm curled up on my couch drinking (eating?) this dreadfully amazing cherry-on-top milkshake and I've got a volleyball game in less than 24 hours.

This particular milkshake was introduced by a friend from high school who was also a Dairy Queen worker. She ordered it for me once, and I've never thought more highly of another ice cream variation since. It was love at first sight.

So tonight the adorable DQ girl (how is she not 300 lbs?) handed me the milkshake through the window. Immediately I scooped the cherry out with my straw and went in for a lickful of whipped cream. When I turned to roll up my window, she was still watching me. It must have looked like something to the equivalent of a hoarder in a thriftshop.

If this be an all out confessional, I'd like to say this about the realm of fast food: My name is Laurissa and I am also a McDonald's chicken nugget addict.

Chicken nuggets were always the food I wouldn't take a second look at. Why go for childish nuggets (with nothing on them!) when you could have a double McGrande cheeseburger? Besides, all the moms were tearing up tiny bitier sizes for their kids. Even as a kid, if I had to eat nuggets I expected a stinking good toy.

But then I met Tera. Tera likes Disney Channel and the Jonas Brothers (though she's talked about them significantly less since I've met her and since she's dated James [nice work James]). Tera also likes chicken nuggets. So when we went to McDonalds, she'd always get them. One day I averted my affections from my burger and said, "Can I have one?" (Big mistake.) "Sure," said Tera. And then I ate a bite and savored it. Then I ate another one. Then it escalated into a twice a week occurrence. I knew it was getting bad when I told the history teacher down the hall, "I love chicken nuggets." He replied, "That's a healthy snack" obviously in a sarcastic way, and I really sincerely thought, "Yeah! It is."

I spent the month of June nugget fasting.

That was a dark time.

But it's been getting there again. Another friend just introduced me to spicy mustard and it. is. delicious. dangit. guhhhhh.

Of course, neither the milkshake nor the nuggets can compare to the number one savory piece of food in history--bacon. It's come to a point where I can just look at a pig and say, "mmmmm" unconsciously because I know there's bacon in there somewhere.

Where did this come from? This love (and devotion and emotion) for food, but namely bacon? The only way I know to explain it is that Grandpa was a pig farmer and ate a lot of pig and so did his ten kids from Iowa. A lot of bacon and a lot of corn on the cob, but certainly bacon. Bacon is what rolls down the fronts of our shirts at Nieuwsma reunions. It's what my sister wrapped the Thanksgiving turkey in. It's what you can wrap most things in. It's what you go camping with. It's what makes a burger better. It's something Lady Gaga would consider an accessory. It's. so. good.

I saw chocolate covered bacon at a store the other day, and I don't think I'm above trying it. Just once. But then that's what I said about nuggets.

How can something seem so wrong and so right at the same time? How is eating food a lot like participating in life?

Like this DQ milkshake. I left it alone for three minutes and already it's turning on me, melting and stuff. Lesson learned. Don't neglect stuff and whatever. Thanks, food.

National Council of Teachers of English

I think there are too many prepositional phrases in that short title to be part of an English teachers' conference.
But that's forgiveable, because I saw Penny Kittle today. She is the author of Write beside Them, the single most important book besides The Bible and Elna Baker's memoir that I've ever read. It's my professional keepsake, and I flip through it daily. Once I stalked her on Facebook to see if she was existent and real and actually within the grasp of communication. And she was. I messaged her and said something to the effect of, "Are you...THE Penny Kittle? If so, I admire what you do, and I read your book often. Are you going to NCTE?" This was two years ago. She responded back, "So glad you enjoyed it! I'll be in Orlando."
And I'm pretty sure I was starstruck with that moment. To see her in real life would have topped the cake.
This morning I saw her from across the room. She was a few rows up, and all I could think was to say, "Hey, I've read your book. Loved it!" But I was too intimidated by her presence and she seemed to be headed out to another session, so I just cowered and admired her presence.
I think she's my profesisonal crush.
Yep.

Oh, 1 hour and 10 minutes until I present! Whoa. So maybe I wouldn't mind if my life path resembled hers.

Tragic Flaw

Today I told my students to go home, think about what their tragic flaw is, and then come back tomorrow ready to journal about it. We're reading "The Odyssey.
Here's what I'm reading to the students tomorrow:

Tragic flaw: a characteristic that can lead to our demise/downfall.
It can be argued that Odysseus’s tragic flaw is distraction. He sees something shiny (or beautiful, like Calypso) or something that helps him forget the difficulty of the journey (like the lotus) and pursues them. I think we’re all a little like that. We set out to do a chore, then find a bouncy ball on the way, or we diverge along another path altogether. While grading a stack of tests or raking a football sized yard, I would jump at the chance to bump a volleyball or go exploring somewhere.

My tragic flaw is similar to Odysseus’s flaw. Simply put, my mind moves more quickly than words can come out of my mouth or than my fingers can write, and so I jumped ahead or aside of the conversation.
You ask, “Have you seen Mary?”
I saw her earlier that morning and then again in the afternoon, between classes, by the kitchen, in the lobby, and just outside the office and am wondering which you’d like me to answer. Meanwhile, I’m thinking about de Jager’s strut as he walks past and how he nods like an Italian mobster and says, “How you doin’” and I’m thinking about how Justin Bieber is ruining the minds of our youth and how he should find another word than “baby” to use in his lyrics, and I’m thinking about how funny it is that we’re a Christian school and have pews lining the hallways and how once my friend Beth came to visit and said, “Wow, you guys have pews as benches,” but alas I say, “Yyyyyes.”
You say, “Um, ok.”
All this happens in a matter of seconds.

This tragic flaw gets me in trouble when I meet new people because I have to pay attention to what they say their name is while I’m intermittently interested in their background, if they have a polygamist Mormon great great-grandfather like I do, or if they’re a little more normal than that, and I’m interested in the five other conversations around us. I just can’t help it.
My flaw makes me seem arrogant, uncaring, flighty, and scattered, but all I desire is more time to think and to know people by the way they act, and I desire to know who they are based on their background. And like Ramona Quimby, I’ve always been a person whose curiosity gets in the way and who is often misunderstood. Mostly, I desire for the stutters and “ums” and “oks” that burst out of my mouth to reflect the fluency of the thoughts inside my head.

So, what's your tragic flaw?

Google History

I clear my Google history. Often. Because what if someone where to say, "Hey, can I use your computer a minute?" They begin googling something and find out, based on my Google history, that I've been searching "mormon polygamy" and "Elna Baker" and "Joseph Smith". That person might never say anything, or they might ask me, "Are you converting?"
I'm not converting, but I have an intense fascination with those topics. Kearsen and I have been somewhat secretly obsessed with them for a while. We grew up going to Mormon family get togethers, but having little idea of the differences.
Google history tells a lot about a person, so I decided to look up mine and write it down. You can infer the reasons for the searching. Happy assuming!

Pizza
Liz lee info
Bozeman Montana named the most
Velma costume
Where’s waldo costume
Iowa student loan
Make you feel my love lyrics
The scarlet letter
The perks of being a wallflower
How to draw
Pinterest
I am fannie
You are the only one who long lyrics
Phoenix 1901
Elizabeth olsen
Stranger than
Bruno mars lighters
The adventures of pete and pete theme song*

*I like this one the most

Now and Later

Did you ever eat those? Basically they mean that you put one in your mouth, and it's a long time later when you're finished with it.
Did you ever consider what they imply? Commitment. That's right. You open one of them now and a long time later you're still occupied by the same thing.

But sometimes that's not so bad.

I've been living in the same place now for 1 year and 3 months, which is the longest time I've lived anywhere beyond high school.

So I'm still sucking on the same Now and Later. Yay.