I Usually Don't Like Hugs...

But when they come from a boy with autism that usually freaks out when you touch him, in honor of his birthday, well, I'll take it. :)

In other news, I have posted 2 days in a row now. Haha Joanna!

So my roommates tried to teach me how to do the worm...

Enjoy that image. Apparently I looked like a dead, seizing, fish. We had a little dance party, actually a few...and for one we were dressed as hippies with stick on mustaches (Halloween for lazy college kids = tie dye shirts, bandannas, ripped jeans, and dollar store mustaches).

Crazy Sue Update

I'm still working at the wonderful and enlightening dd although thankfully only every other weekend now. Every time I go back there are new rules, such as "don't cross this tape on the floor without asking" and "manager must be present for exit." At least we finally have direct deposit though. Anyway, enough about that.

Crazy Sue is still crazy, but now I find her a very endearing crazy. In fact, I'm not surprised at all that we're related, she fits right in. Every time I come back she gives me a giant hug, complains about how they treat her like shit, and then asks me if I have a boyfriend yet. So basically, she acts like all my other relatives lol.

Also, I was asked to sweep the parking lot on Saturday. My initial response was "with a broom?" Does that seem crazy to anyone else?

*Update* Crazy Sue quit. :'(

Crazy Sue, Part 2.

So today Sue gave me an astrological reading at work. Then she made me this amazing coolata she calls almond joy. It was like slushie heaven.

Anyway, we were standing there methodically putting napkins in bags and she asked me when my birthday was and then proceeded to list personality traits I supposedly have. Then she told me Aquariuses (aquarii?) are stubborn, like food (keep in mind that she already knew I was Italian!), are easygoing, like the color blue, and have shin pain.  She's crazy. Though some of it was pretty accurate.

This was way more awkward/interesting in person, but just let me say this made work a lot more entertaining.

I'm related to crazy Sue.

So in case you haven't caught this fact yet, I'm working at my local donut establishment now. Anyway, there's this lady there, my coworker, who is just crazy. She's 57 (and she'll remind you of it at least twice a day) and I swear she would break a mood ring. One minute she's all "oh Allison, you're such a nice girl" and the next she's all "why the hell aren't you helping me!! Don't be so shy!!!"

Anyway, I know I kind of gave away the ending in the title, but here's the story anyway. So this girl comes into the store and starts ordering, and Sue goes crazier - "OMG, that's my niece, OMG lemme make her coffee all special and take 16 years to do it..., etc" So I stop listening and go about doing my job. Once the girl leaves, she feels this undeniable need to explain herself. So as I'm trying to concentrate on making a latte lite with mocha and 18 splenda or whatever absurd order I was filling, she's blathering on about how they're not really related but she's the daughter of a close family friend and blah blah blah...I don't see why it requires a ten minute explanation, but apparently she does. So I politely pretend to be listening.

She ends this story with by explaining that she's from Geneva. Apparently they "weave a tangled web" or some equally creepy sounding phrase. Now here's where I make my mistake - I open my mouth. I say that I have family in Geneva as well, you know, just to make conversation. So then she asks who...a little to excitedly...suddenly I have that feeling where I know what's going to happen but I can't do anything to stop it...so I tell her, listing a couple last names (as I have a large Italian family, which, truth be told, is kind of centered in Geneva).

Sue: "OMG, you're a CAHL-eee-breazze!?!?"
Me: "Yeah I guess, that's my Gramma's maiden name"
Sue: "OMG do you know Ralph!?"
Me: "Yup, he's my great uncle"
Sue: "And your Gramma is...?"
Me: "Toni"
Sue: "OMG, OMG I love Toni!!"

By now you can imagine her excitement and my dread. She knows my family. Like a lot. And I'm about to find out why...

Me: "hehe yup, me too." (how awkward of a response was that!!)
Sue: "OMG, so you're related to Phoenixes!!"
Me: "Yup, Eunice is my great aunt"
Sue: "OMG so you know Debbie Phoenix!?!?"
Me: "Yeah, she's a Thibault now..."
Sue: "Oh I know. OMG I love Debbie! I graduated with Debbie!! We used to walk the streets together (I swear that's the exact phrase she used. If I wasn't dreading the outcome of this conversation so much I would have laughed). We used to party together!!"
Me: *awkward chuckle and attempt to escape*
Sue: "OMG, we're related!!!"

So know I'm trying to think of how that makes us related, and then I remember the story about her fake niece and figure, hey, maybe it doesn't take too much to be considered family...but wait, there's more. A tangled web indeed...

Sue: "Do you know Joey and Angela!? Angela is my niece!"

Don't worry, I'll condense the rest of this misery for you. Yup. I know these people. They're my grandma's brother's grandchildren. They come to family parties, etc. I've probably kissed these people thousands of times. Anyway, Sue is their father's first (or second, I'm not sure) wife's sister.

So she tells everyone in the store that we're related, and she continues to not let it go...but hey, she's a little less crazy toward me so maybe it was worth it... eh.

I'm going to Italy...eventually.

So on Wednesday or Thursday night of last week my sister had a soccer game in Greece. My dad grew up in Greece,and my great uncle (my grandpa's brother) still lives there. This is the man who speaks with a thick Italian accent (hard to understand sometimes) even though he's been "off the boat" (Mary!!) for something like 50 years now. and kisses you on both cheeks to greet you. He's very, very Italian.

So after my sister's soccer game we head over there and marvel at his amazing garden. It's like a frickin jungle.He has tomatoes, greens, mint, basil, peppers, eggplant, broccoli, fava beans, swiss chard, and probably 15 other things that I couldn't identify. He also has a cherry tree, a peach tree, a fig tree, and an apple tree. It's truly amazing to see so much garden in so small a backyard. Anyway, I try some fava beans, and start eating them like popcorn. All of it makes me nostalgic for my childhood and reminds me of my grandpa.

Anyway, we go inside and eat this amazing zucchini dish and some fabulous homemade biscotti and my grandma, great aunt, and uncle reminisce about the old country. Overall it was a wonderful evening.

Also, I vowed to save enough money to pay for myself, my grandma , and my brother to go to Italy so she can see the place where her parents were born. I aim to accomplish this within the next 7 years.

Bee-sting remedy

So today I was the lucky recipient of a bee-sting. My fourth, for the record. I was playing soccer in the backyard with my siblings (which, let me just say, is quite a rare occurrence, because my brothers tend to find it a bother to join my sister and I) when I felt a sharp, stinging pain on the sole of my foot. "Take a knee!" I yelled, as I dropped to the ground like a Brazilian soccer player (this game had elaborate rules, right down to corner kicks, penalty kicks, and drop balls. Keep in mind that this is semi-comical considering the size of our backyard [about 20 paces]).

I gimp over to the hose, rinse my foot off under the hose (which is basically the same as applying ice) and examine my wound. Sure enough, there's a angry red bee sting right in the middle of the sole of my foot. I stoically decide to play through the pain and kind of forget about it.

Until later that day when it started itching like crazy! I remembered applying some sort of homemade concoction on one of my previous bee stings (which was between my toes, btw), so I googled home remedies for bee stings. I found this site listing quite a few, so I decided to combine some.

It said fresh basil could relieve itching, so I went outside, picked a large leaf of basil, and proceeded to rub it on my foot. My foot smelled nice and was kind of making me crave Italian food, but it still itched, so I tossed the basil in the bowl and and put in water and a healthy amount of baking soda AND baking powder (because I didn't remember which one the remedy called for) and then sat on the kitchen floor and messily rubbed/ poured it onto my foot. 

So far, I declare it a success. 

Bringing home the dough(nuts).

So I have a job at Dunkin Donuts now. I've had it for a couple weeks now actually. Yet I am still in training, at least until the end of the week. I swear the manager believes that making coffee is akin to brain surgery. Anyway, I mastered the coolata machine today, only made one wrong coffee, and cashed my first paycheck. I also got to know some of my coworkers better, which is cool because I was kinda freaked out when I started my shift today because it was just me and 3 guys. One was especially nice and helped me along and we talked about his aunt, his tattoos, and life in general.

The end.

Both of Those Things You Shouldn't Argue About at the Dinner Table

So, I have to get this off my chest and straighten out my thoughts for next time someone feels like arguing, so here goes. Feel free to skip this post if you'd like. It's about to get all self-righteous and rant-y up in here. It probably will not be one of those funny posts.

The issue is same-sex marriage.

A little background on my involvement in the issue. I was raised Roman Catholic, and my parents have always supported Republican political candidates. I registered to vote as a Republican. Apparently, my position on same-sex marriage flies in the face of these facts. I am no longer a "real" Catholic or a real Republican. Well, I went to church today.

Anyway, here's the crux of the issue for me. I have best friends that are gay. I don't see why they shouldn't have all the same rights and freedoms that I do. Throughout my life, at home and at church, I have been taught to treat people equally, and to not discriminate against people because of their race or religious beliefs or other such factors. So why is discrimination now suddenly okay, even expected of me?

It perplexes me that something like religion (specifically organized religion) can be so edifying and yet so damaging at the same time. I personally, do not feel like the Catholic church should do my thinking for me. I don't want anyone but me to do my thinking for me. That's pretty much the same reason I'm against banning/censoring books, but that's for another entry.

Now, I will freely admit to you that the bible is not among the I think pretty respectable amount of books that I have read cover to cover. I'm pretty sure (though I am speculating) that most Catholics, especially those that are my age, will tell you the same thing. Granted, I know a lot of it from hearing parts of it every Sunday (or Saturday) since I was 3, but I don't know every verse of it. However, I thought  I had a pretty good idea of the main points in my head. If asked what the bible was about, keywords such as 'loving God', 'sacrifice' , 'forgiveness', 'tolerance', and 'morality'.  Over the last couple weeks I have realized that many people believe or demonstrate that tolerance should not be on that list.

I just want to throw this in here: this is the story that got me a riled up. http://rochester.ynn.com/content/top_stories/548125/what-effect-will-the-marriage-vote-have-on-the-gop-/
Watch it, and feel free to let me know what you think. I'll steer away from commenting on the content of the story, because I think it's an unnecessary segue that would make this blog post way to long. But I will say that you should make sure to concentrate on what the 'conservative' blogger says, what her website says, and the difference between the attitudes of the two groups interviewed. Oh man it's coming on tv again.

I'm going to end this rant here, right after I say the following: change is always hard. Change is what is going on in our society right now. In reality though, change is what allows progress. I am very proud of the progress I have made since going off to college, however, at times I feel like I'm going through a time warp when I come back home and hear that the opinions of most of my friends have not changed.

Homosexuality used to make me uncomfortable too. There was this lesbian couple in my high school who used to make out in the hallways, and it would freak me out. I would say that it grossed me out and that it was disgusting. I once told a friend she was the gayest straight person I knew. I don't think I meant it to be hurtful, I was probably trying to be funny. The problem is that only half of my sentence was correct. My friend was a lesbian, and probably struggling through high school, trying to decide when to come out. I feel bad every time I think of this incident. Another friend perpetuated a joke about one of my friends and I  being a lesbian couple to the point where we were both severely annoyed. I realize now that she has come out that this was probably a defense mechanism.  In hindsight though, I am ashamed to have said and thought these things. I am so glad that I have become more accepting over the years.

Okay, for real stopping now. Feel free to comment, and disagree if you must. But if you would, please try not to argue from a religious standpoint (because it is almost impossible to have a useful debate on this issue from that position) or from a place of your own discomfort. Feel free to share stories about  your discomfort, but please do not try to argue that same-sex marriage is wrong because it makes you uncomfortable. That is just frustrating. What if your rights make me uncomfortable? Should we debate taking those away?

Wow, it's 1 am. Well, goodnight. I promise I'll try to write something funny soon, to make up for the serious post.

The Tale of How My Favorite Shirt Became My Lucky Shirt

So I have this shirt. I quite like it. It's nice and worn in, and it has that wonderful soft worn in feel. It's grey and it says FDNY on the front in red/orange letters with blue trim. It's all faded from the billions of wash cycles it's been through, and they edges are a little frayed. I got it from the wonderful (but unfortunately now closed ) Steve and Berry's. Anyway, if you know me in real life, you've seen me wear it probably at least a dozen times. This, my friends, is my favorite shirt. I love this shirt.

Okay, now that I've made that clear, here comes the tragedy. This shirt has a hole in it. Well, actually three holes, technically.  There are  two itty bitty holes right in the middle down by the belly button area, but they're okay because this shirt is a big old T shirt so they're really not that noticeable. I think they just give the shirt some added character, like an interesting mole on a person's face. Don't worry, they're really itty bitty holes, you can't see my stomach or anything, I promise. The real tragedy is this gigantic gaping hole in the armpit seam. Like, if I lift my arm, whoa, hope I shaved recently! Now, I'm no seamstress, but it looks pretty unfixable (unfixable's not  a word? Well why the hell not?).  So with a heavy heart I had relegated my favorite shirt to a pajama shirt.

So when I was packing for Lake Placid, I packed it as such. But then, one day, toward the end of our trip, I only had two pairs of shorts left. The ones I wanted to wear that day were red. I didn't have a shirt to go with red shorts. Except...voila! Out of the bottom of my duffle (how do you spell duffle?)bag appears my favorite shirt! It's calling me - "wear me Allison, I match! Wear meeeeeee!!" So I take it out and examine it, debating in my head whether or not I should wear it, calculating how much I plan on raising my left arm, finally convincing myself that no one knows me here so it won't matter anyway. So on goes the shirt. Damn I forgot how comfy it was.  Seriously, it makes the whole world seem a little nicer and softer.

So the day goes on, and I eventually forget what shirt I'm wearing. We park on Main St. to go buy our Olympic passports, and Nicole reads some sign ahead and decides that where she is parked is free even though the rest of the street is metered (honestly I wasn't paying that much attention, parking was clearly her concern since she was driving). So in we go. Fifteen minutes and $30 later, we come out, jay walk across the street, and see a police officer standing in the general area of Nicole's car, writing a ticket. We awkwardly get in the car, hoping it's for the car in front of us. It's not. He comes up to the passenger side as tells Nicole she's being issued a parking citation. A $25 dollar ticket.

Then the cop looks at me and asks if I have family in FDNY. Now, at first I was a little perplexed, but then he points at my shirt. Ah. No, I say, I just like the shirt. He says he has family in FDNY. I stutter something like an 'oh' (if only I was more eloquent). He says he will offer us a deal. So Nicole goes off with him to pay the meter ( 25 cents instead of 25 dollars sounds real good) and I wait in the car.

She comes back complaining, and I say "I think my shirt just saved us a ticket!" Nicole says, "I know it did, he just told me that flat out."

The end.

Let's face it, I'm horrible at coming up with titles!

So here we go...haven't blogged in a while...well, not really. I've been using tumblr, which is really cool, but much different (lazier, I must say) than this kind of blogging. My friend Joanna has been bothering me for a while to write another entry - good to know someone likes your writing, huh? One problem...I don't know what to write about...I mean, I have a ton I could write about, but I don't know how to organize it. I guess I'll just wing it and see how it goes, and if this becomes a rambling Nicole story of doom, well,  I warned you.

Before I start, you must appreciate the writing conditions...my cat is staring at me. Seriously, she's creeping me out. I think she's resting for her next all out sprint to the kitchen and back (which is what she's been doing for at least 10 minutes now). Do you remember doing the shuttle run in gym class in elementary school? That's what my cat's doing, minus the little wooden blocks and with a tricky corner thrown in.

Okay. Ready, Set, GO! I went to Lake Placid, NY last week. My friend Nicole said her aunt (or some similar relative...once she gets that far into stories I'm really only half listening) had a timeshare up there and that we could stay in it for free. Let me tell you, I like free. Nicole and I were the only ones who could go, because we were the ones without jobs :(

Anyway, so Sunday morning we are supposed to leave at 9am. Knowing Nicole (chronically late) I figured it would be more toward 9:30 or 10. It ended up being more like 11, but hey, whatever. So off we went. The ride was a bit awkward at times - I mean, neither of us are exactly professional conversationalists (really, who has 5 hours of things to talk about!?) and the radio became basically useless as soon as we got out of the Rochester range (neither of us are country or bluegrass fans). Once we got up toward the Adirondacks, we got off the thruway onto this nice little state route something (86 maybe?) that ran through all these small towns, each of which had at least one ice cream place (we promised to gorge ourselves on the way back - and we took pics of each ice cream outing lol).

So we got there, checked in, and settled in to this LUXURY townhouse - I felt really stupid for having brought a sleeping bag...I mean, this place had a frickin sauna in the downstairs bathroom. That's right, It had two bathrooms, and two floors! I had totally been expecting a little camping cabin...whoops.

We had been marveling at the mountains for pretty much 1/3rd of the way there (it is kinda what the Adirondack region is known for), but that really didn't prepare me for the view FROM OUR BACK DECK! Just past the beautifully manicured golf course and across the road were beautiful, soaring, blue-green mountains. To our right we could see the Olympic ski jumps in the distance. It was breathtaking (and believe me, I don't use that word lightly...it's not really a me kind of word, but it's more than appropriate here).

I guess I'll leave the story here for now, because Joanna likes short entries lol

30 Day Book Challenge - All in One Sitting.

Day 1- Favorite Book - Hmmm...so many....I think I would have to say Whale Talk  by Chris Crutcher. You should read it, it's thoroughly awesome. Gotta love the underdogs.


Day 2- Least Favorite Book - Any book I'm forced to read. I seriously have a thing...a 'reading rebellion' we'll say...where if you force me to read a book it instantly becomes one thousand times less interesting. 


Day 3 - A Book That Completely Surprised You - Memoirs of a Geisha  by Arthur Golden. Not my usual tyoe of book, but it was utterly riveting.


Day 4 - A Book That Reminds You of Home - My little Italian for Travellers book. It reminds me of my extended family.


Day 5 - A Non-fiction Book That You Actually Enjoyed - Hey, I like non-fiction! In fact, I've been on kind of a non-fiction kick since about senior year of high school. I especially like non-fiction books such as Freakonomics, Blink, and Predictably Irrational that explore why we behave like we do.


Day 6- A Book That Makes You Cry - I am not ashamed to admit that I bawled like a baby at the end of My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Piccoult


Day 7- A Book That's Hard to Read - Huck Finn was difficult because of the dialect...I believe I read it aloud to myself, much to my parent's and sibling's chagrin.


Day 8- An Unpopular Book You Think Should Be a Best-Seller - Whale Talk  by Chris Crutcher. Seriously, read it. Then read all the rest of the stuff he wrote. It's friggin fabulous.


Day 9- A Book You've Read More Than Once - I don't like reading books more than once...


Day 10 - The First Novel You Remember Reading - I remember exhausting entire classroom bookshelves and entire sections of the library in Elementary School, but I don't remember many specific books from that time.


Day 11- The Book That Made You Fall in Love With Reading - Inkheart by Cornelia Funke. I freaking loved that book, and low and behold once I get older and grow out of that obsession, there's two more books. Sadly, I have yet to read them.


Day 12- An Emotionally Draining Book - Chinese Handcuffs by Chris Crutcher


Day 13- Favorite Childhood Book - If we're talking book that I had read to me that would be Friend Dog, but my favorite book I read to myself as a child would be Inkheart, hands down.


Day 14- Book That Should Be On The HS/ College Required Reading List - As stated above, I hate required reading.


Day 15 - Favorite Book Dealing with Foreign Culture - Nickle and Dimed  by Barbara Ehrenreich taught me that poverty is a different culture.


Day 16- Favorite Book Turned Movie - I have yet to find an instance where a movie version of a book has not made me at least slightly angry.


Day 17- Book Turned Movie and Completely Desecrated - All.


Day 18- Book That You Can't Find On Shelves Anymore That You Love - Hmmm...well, I can't find my copy of Harry Potter 7, but I don't think that counts...


Day 19- A Book That Changed Your Mind About a Particular Subject (Non-fiction) - Nickle and Dimed  changed my view on poverty and how much help we should be giving those living under the poverty line.


Day 20-A Book You Would Recommend to an Ignorant/Racist/Closed-minded Person - Days of Grace by Arthur Ashe will change your mind about the people who are living with or have died of AIDS real fast.

Day 21-A Guilty Pleasure Book - Don't have one

Day 22-Favorite Series - Artemis Fowl, closely followed by the Harry Potter Series, closely followed by the Series of Unfortunate Events

Day 23- Favorite Romance Novel - Don't have one

Day 24 - A Book You Later Found Out the Author Lied About - N/A

Day 25-Favorite Autobiographical/Biographical book - Pursuit of Happyness by Chris Gardner

Day 26-A Book You Wish Would Be Written - My reading list is so long as it is...

Day 27- A Book You Would Write If You Had All the Resources - Probably something non-fiction about children with Autism Spectrum Disorders

Day 28- A Book You Wish You Never Read - Cheese Monkeys by Chip Kidd. This is why you don't judge books based on their covers. This book had a picture of a monkey and a picture of a wedge of cheese on the cover...so naturally I picked it up. Worst book ever.

Day 29- An Author You Completely Hate/ Won't Read - Stephanie Meyer...I don't see vampires ever being a thing for me...I went through that weird fantasy genre stage in Middle School and I don't think I wanna go back.

Day 30- The 'I Will Read Everything Written By This Author' Author - Dan Brown. I'm sorry if that makes me a bad Catholic :)

My First Splint!!

So I'm back to college now, and this semester we actually get to do stuff!! I have this awesome lab called occupation, adaptation, and technology I (henceforth known as OATS I) where we make splints and lots of other cool stuff. The prof is totally awesome - he's pretty much the coolest 68 year old I've ever met lol, and he's done everything! He's literally practiced in almost every area you can in OT, and he's done a crap ton of other stuff too! He's says he was able to do it because he only sleeps 5 hours a night and uses his time very wisely (damn do I feel like a lazy slacker!).

So anyway, after we talked for a little while, we got to the hands on stuff, and we got to make our first splint. It looks like this (view pics) - pretty awesome, right! This is actually thee one my partner made for my finger, but they look pretty much the same. That clumsy looking blue hand in the background was our warm up activity. Now I use it to hold my splints (well, currently only splint, but next week there'll be another one!!) So yeah, the end... ooh, I almost forgot...I got a 4/4 on it too! I love splinting!

Mistake Muffins.

So it was about 8pm and my sweet tooth was acting up. It probably had something to do with the fact that I had been watching the food channel for a couple hours. Anyway, I found some cake and frosting in the pantry and made that. Well that was in the oven I thought, how cool would it be if I could have a different color frosting to write on the cake. So I went on the internet and looked up frosting recipes (cause God knows I was lucky to find one tub of frosting, there was no way in hell there was another). I found out I needed confectionery sugar, which was unfortunately not available...so, being me, I decided to just wing it and make frosting with whatever we had...so I mixed together a crap ton of sugar, a couple egg whites, and some imitation vanilla (note that I was way too ADD to measure). It was too soupy, no matter how much sugar I add (believe me, I added a lot), so I try melting some butter in it and adding milk (not to make it thicker, but because I suddenly remembered parts of recipes I had read, and I figured that putting the whole thing in he microwave would maybe prevent salmonella, since I was sampling the mixture every time I added a new ingredient - which was like every 6 seconds). It still wasn't frosting consistency, so I added cream cheese (they put that in cake frosting, right?) and that didn't help at all. So I was all depressed 'cause I just wasted all that sugar, and as I'm contemplating whether to put it in the trash or down the sink, my eyes fall on the flour, and I have this like slow motion moment like 'hmm... this could be a really bad idea, but what the hell, I already wasted all this sugar...' So I dumped some flour in it...and some more... and a little more...and like 6 spoonfuls of flour later, it's frosting consistency. Voila! But then I taste it and it tastes like flour and is grainy from all the sugar (like when you're on the beach eating a sandy sandwich) and I think about throwing it out again. But then I was struck with culinary genius...what if I made them into cupcakes? So I adjust for flavor (aka pour more sugar in), throw some walnuts in, stick some foil in a cupcake tin (because of course we don't have those cupcake wrapper things) and stick them in the oven. And when they come out 20 mins later they are these really good walnut vanilla muffins and I am totally amazed and my dad eats like 3 of them (good thing he's not diabetic), which means they must be good. The End.

My new culinary catchphrase: What the hell?