Change Your FEED!

Big changes in life=new blog address. So change your RSS feed (or your bookmark, if that's how you roll).

Check it out now at annahammond.blogspot.com

crash

At 3:15, I heard the unmistakable bang and screech of a car accident on the corner. I resisted the tempation to run out and look like all the children in the courtyard. I knew I wouldn't be able to help and, well, the memory of my own accident over two and a half years ago still makes my blood run cold.

At 3:18, I heard the siren.

At 3:19, the police arrived.

I guess that's why we pay taxes.

There haven't been any more sirens, so hopefully that means there were no injuries, though I am still praying.

Now they need to use some more of those tax dollars to put in over-street lights, instead of the short little posts on the corners that we currently have.

template

I'm trying to find an easier to use template for the blog, so right now it's pretty generic. Stay tuned for the new and improved version!

move over iphone...

...I just bought an omop.

This is Method's version of the mop, though to give this beauty such a lame moniker is a crime. Besides being the most beautiful apparatus used to clean anything, anywhere, it is easy to use and does a commendable job. Plus, it works with both a wet/dry re-washable microfiber pad and swiffer-type throw away clothes (except unlike swiffer, these are corn-derived so they're 100% biodegradable). The floor cleaner is also non-toxic and biodegradable, and smells like almonds instead of chemicals.

So it's a mop that looks good, smells good, and it's green. It's so cool that probably the next one is going to be able to surf the internet and make phone calls using power from the dirt it picks up.

Simpsonized

I saw the Simpson's movie in the theater this week. Ben, Luke, Ryan and I went to Tinseltown. It was terribly exciting. First, the girl at the ticket counter told us there was no 8:05 show. There was an 8:05 show online, we told her. She insisted that there was no 8:05 show. There was an 8:05 show on the marquee, we told her. She insisted that there was not, but then we politely asked her to check again, and she found it. We got the student price.

We entered the theater and discovered that though we were ten minutes late, nothing was playing. Everyone was just sitting in the theater and staring at the blank screen. So we decided to inform the management that the movie in theater 9 wasn't playing. We could have walked down to the concession stand and bugged them, but we were sitting down already. And we're lazy. So we called management.

When one frequents a run down theater, one should have the number for the theater management memorized (906-0496). When one is in the middle of the climax for Ocean's 12, and already so sure one has missed something important, one is not leaving the theater to tell them the sound is out of sync. So one calls the management and says, "Hi. I'm in theater 6, and the sound is out of sync...yes, I mean the lips don't match the words. Thank you."

The movie was actually really funny. I suppose that with a 18 year reputation to maintain, they had to make it pretty good. At least, I think the movie was good. See, right at the beginning of the climax, as Homer climbs aboard his motorcycle, strobe lights started going off in the theater. And a loudspeaker told everyone to evacuate. And then everyone got up and left, even though the movie was still running.

Everyone in the whole theater was in the hall, so they told us to go outside while they figured out what was wrong. They came out ten minutes later and yelled that it was a false alarm. Said they'd start the movies right where they left off. Except our projector was messed up, remember? We saw the last gag, then watched the credits. So I have no idea how the movie ends. Sad, but true. It could have been worse--the people watching The Bourne Ultimatum left the theater just as Bourne was about to discover his true identity.

We did get a rain check. But no, we aren't sitting through the entire Simpson's movie again to see the last fifteen minutes.

We're going to find out who Jason Bourne really is.



In honor of the experience, I Simpsonized myself. Thanks for the link, Tim May.

windows

The other day my "black brother" Chris stopped by the apartment but couldn't remember which door was ours. It was dusk, and we live in a brick courtyard building on the fringe of a not-so-great neighborhood. Chris stood in the courtyard and looked up at the windows until he found one that looked "like a window Ben and Anna would have." He knew it was our window because it was the happiest window in the whole building.

Pretty cool stuff. There are a lot of reasons that Ben and I chose this area. Money was a factor--our rent here is great. And the building is cool. It reminds me of where I grew up in Uptown, Chicago, with a black and white tile floor in the bathroom and paned casement windows. However, we also picked this building because we want to be like Jesus to the people around us. I've overheard some unhappy conversations through my happy windows, and I want to do something about that. That's why we are where we are. No kidding.

posting

must...post...more...often...!

I'm working on it. There are still boxes stacked next to my desk from the move into my new apartment, but the rest of the place looks halfway decent. Okay, it looks pretty good. I'll have to have a party and everyone who comments on this post can be invited. Just kidding. I'm not comment happy like that.

The worst part about having a bigger living space is finding things. I never understood why my mom loses her keys. When all I had was my bedroom, I never lost them. There were maybe two places they could be. Now I lose everything. Sure, some of it is the post-move debris cluttering up good places-to-set-things, but I think the bulk of the problem is that I have three more rooms to look in. Okay, I guess I'd be really dumb if I left my keys (or my phone, or my purse) in the bathroom, but you never know.

The best part of the bigger living space is dancing. Now that the post-move debris is mostly in the dumpster, I can dance all around the big hardwood floors. The living room is particularly good for pirouettes.

I'll put up some pictures soon.

the park

Today I took my anonymous charges to the park for a picnic dinner. I had three of them, and the littlest guy is two and a half.

So he's playing on the merry-go-round and all these seven year old boys in soccer uniforms come up and jump on the thing and my little charge starts to push them. Pretty good speed, too. They were pretty much ignoring him until one of the cleated demi-athletes says, "Man, you a Cubs fan? That's awesome." My guy said, "uh huh!" and proudly lifted his capped head to smile at all those big boys. Who continued to ignore him. Then another said, "He's pretty strong for a little dude." Beaming, my charge replied, "Yeah, I's pretty strong," and proceeded to push with determination, laughing and grunting and laughing. The boys started paying more attention, asking him for a turn, helping him get on and off, and generally making sure they didn't run him over. He was in his element.

I think I learned a little something about men today. They totally open up and strive when men (or seven-year-olds) they look up to encourage and accept them. I know I see this in my guy. Am I on to something?