Mushrooms, Not Just For Cooking Anymore

My washroom has sprouted mushrooms. This photo wasn't taken at my place, but it might as well have been. Yeah, those have been growing for a few weeks now. My roommate and I have been removing them, but we can't seem to get them all.

In addition to that, our shower hasn't been properly draining for a few months now. Finally I got sick and tired of standing in my own shower water whilst I cleaned the majority of myself (don't get me started on the sanitary issues of baths. ICK!), and pretended to clean my feet, up to mid-shin. Yes, it really was that bad. Thus, in a brilliant stroke of taking matters into my own hands, I went and bought some Drain-o. I poured that down the drain to no avail. So, I bought foaming pipe snake. Two bottles of that later -- still nothing. Correction, now in stead of not draining water would bubble up in the bathtub when the sink faucet was turned on. 2 more gallons of draino and liquid plumber later (that's a total of FIVE, for those who were counting) the problem has only gotten worse. Oh yes. Now, instead of simply not draining, or water bubbling up, we have sludge (that's the delicate term for sewage...) coming up the drain. Oh yeah. Wonderful stuff, that. Actually, the good news is, it doesn't smell. This process took a mere three days. On the morning of day four (sludge came up the morning of day three, as far as I can tell) I skipped my usual morning shower (would you have showered in in? I didn't think so) and called my landlord on the way to work. This was Thursday morning.

Friday afternoon I still hadn't heard from him regarding a plumber. As the holiday weekend was rapidly approaching I called him up. He informed me, "I had a plumber lined up, but he called me about a half an hour ago and had to cancel because his cable [that he uses to snake the pipes] is broken. So, I guess I had better call another plumber, huh?" "Yeah." "Ok. I'll do that and give you a call back." "Thanks." I hung up and immediately called mumsy to gripe about my landlord.

Fifteen minutes later I'm shocked when my phone rings and it's him. "Hey, Granola. So, I called three different plumbers and they all told me that their cables were broken. (I'm guessing that there is only one cable in the city of Provo and all the plumbers share it.) So, finally I called a fourth one, he'll be there Tuesday morning between 10 and 11."

"Tuesday?! That's ridiculous, Landlord! I haven't showed in two days. I'm gross. My shower is disgusting. That's not going to work!" (I was so proud of myself, usually I just think those sorts of things and say the same thing, only nicer.)

"Yeah. So, I'm going to rent a snake from Home Depot and come by Saturday between 8 and 8:30. Will that work for you?"

"Yes. Great. I'll see you then." I knew he wouldn't show up that early, so I didn't even bother to set my alarm. He finally showed up a little after 9.

Now, the access for the main line can be found only in my closet (yeah, I don't get it either), so I had to move all of my clothes out and pile them on a big chair I have in my room. When he was finished I left the clothes there. The plumber I had every intensions of calling would need access to that.

When Landlord left he said he thought he fixed the problem, but if he didn't, and we couldn't wait until Tuesday, we could call a plumber that night. Surprise, surprise, not only did he not fix it, he made matters worse!

I called a plumber. Shockingly enough, the first one I called was able to come out. No broken cable or anything.

When our hero showed up he ran the snake from the washroom sink, and eventually announced he was giving up, as he had achieved nothing. What he really needed, he told me, was to look being the shower at the plumbing. Was there, he hoped, a closet access? No, however, two years ago some plumbers came by to fix something and they had cut an access in the wall from my room to the washroom. Their idea of closing off the access included an 18" X 18" square of thin plastic and four screws. There was only one problem -- I had a bookcase blocking the access panel. We opted to move the bookshelves.

Now, I'm living in college student housing, and have been a student as long as I've lived here. Thus, my shelves were just what you might expect -- boards and cinderblocks. When we went to my room to move the shelves I was going to dismantle them. He thought that was a waste of time, and suggested we just pick up the shelves and move them one shelf at a time. So, the top shelf, a set of cinderblocks, and the next shelf down were what we were moving. Yeah, that failed as soon as the stuff on the top shelf came crashing down all over my bedroom floor. That being neither here-nor-there, we just had to move some books to get the the access panel at that point. Those ended up on my bed. For those of you keeping track, that means that at this point my (formerly clean) room has: all my clothes piled up in one corner, a shelf full of make-up, jewelry, hair junk, photos, etc (and a smattering of books) strewn across the floor, and my bed is covered with books. Oh, I should mention, the shelves are 7' long, so, lots of stuff.

The plumber then proceeds to laugh at the ghetto trash access cover while he removes it. He took one look and said, "Oh! That's your problem. Yeah, this whole thing needs to be replaced. Oh, and this blah, blah, blah thing needs to be replaced."

"So, how long will this take? I mean, like one day, or three weeks? What?"

"Oh, about 1/2 a day to a day, with two of us working on it."

Nice. "And how much will that cost?"

"Somewhere between $600 and $1000. Depending on what has to be done."

So glad I'm not paying for it. "So, will you call the landlord and tell him that it has to be replaced?"

"I'll call him and tell him that it's not up to code, and if I don't see it up to code in a week I'll call the city and have them condemn the place, and he'll lose his license." Landlords have to have a business license in Provo, by the way.

"You'd do that?!"

"Yeah, I've never done it before, it'd be fun to see his reaction."

I think at this point I asked him if I could kiss him, but I'm not sure. Basically, the only thing that lights a fire under Landlord's a-- is to threaten him with BYU or the City.

After our hero departed I called Landlord to give him the good news. I didn't tell him everything that the plumber had said, but he got irate nonetheless. He couldn't believe how unprofessional the plumber was! How dare he tell that sort of thing to the tenants and get them all worked up. Um, you want to talk unprofessional? How about mushrooms in the washroom? How about a tub not draining? How about not taking care of these things in the 24 hours that Provo declares you have before you're in big trouble? That's unprofessional.

I gave him the plumber's number and said he should call him and talk about everything. He hemmed and hawed and told me he doubted the place would still be open. "It's a 24 hour service. They're still open." Yeah, but the guy may not still be working. "He left my house 30 minutes ago to go on another call. He's still working." murmur murmur murmur. I doubt he called the guy. Then, after all that he had the audacity to say to me, "So, I guess this has been a serious problem in the making and it didn't really show it's head until the last two or three days." "No, remember when the guys came out 2 years ago and cut that hole in my wall? That was for the same problem. And, when they snaked the pipes last summer, that was for the same problem." "No, I try to have the pipes snaked every year because of the roots that grow into them." Don't get me started on the roots. "No, you had them snaked last summer because I called you about this same problem. It's been an on going issue." "Oh." That man is as dumb as a pile of rocks.

I talked to ExOfNote Sunday night about the issues. He just so happens to be a third year apprentice plumber. Oh yeah! I told him the blah, blah, blah parts of what the plumber said, and his reply was, "You have a thus-and-such?" "Yeah." "Those are illegal!" Apparently, the thus-and-such was grandfathered in, but generally it's out of code for residential units. Oh bother.

Landlord did, however, call me today to tell me that the plumber was coming by tomorrow, and to make sure I'd be here. No, actually, I won't be, and, I can't take time off work to deal with it. Frankly, I assumed that he had cancelled the plumber because we had that other guy come out. Guess not. He then asked about my roommates and if they would be home. No, turns out they have jobs, too. How about the girls upstairs? They're both employed, too. Then, he asked, if I would be comfortable with letting the plumbers in with no one here? Abso-freaking-lutely not! Not after the guys he had over here two years ago. Those guys were so creepy, I think they probably went through my underwear drawer while they were here. Nope. Non. Nyet. No plumbers are coming in my house with out someone here. "Oh. Well, what time do you usually get home from work." "5:30" "Great, well, maybe we can reschedule with them for then." Ok, fine. As long as someone is here. In all actuality, however, I really hope that Landlord has to take time off from his precious job to come down here and sit with a plumber and be told just what I was told. Yeah, right.

Boyfriends

While I was talking to a friend on Friday I sighed and informed him, "I need a boyfriend." He then told me that my stubborn determination that I don't need a boyfriend is something that he really admires in me. In his opinion, girls fall into three categories: (1) the type that need a boyfriend to feel validated; (2) the girls who seem almost manic about boyfriends -- they are deeply in love one day and hate men the next; and (3) the women who don't need a man to feel complete, and go about their lives not worrying whether or not tomorrow will bring a man. He told me that, generally, he considers me to be in the third group, but my comment has made him wonder if I was seeking to move up into one of the other two categories.

Now, I don't consider myself to be boyfriend-dependent, but there are certain things that a significant other can do that no level of "best friendship" can equate. I shared the following information with him, which I now share with you.

For example, when having a personal religious crisis, the best person to call would be a significant other. While a close friend may be willing to help you in your time of need, there is a certain amount of ignorance to your situation that they have. A significant other, on the other hand, would have a much more intimate relationship with you, and be much more aware of what would be of most benefit to you. (The friend I was explaining all this to was the first one who called me back on the night I am referencing, so he has all that back information.)

Additionally, while close friends are important, there are many other roles which they can't fill, without becoming a significant other.

All of this got me thinking about ExOfNote (you were wondering when I was going to mention him again, weren't you?). That night ExOfNote would have been the absolutely wrong person to call, as we have differing beliefs, and asking him to tell me why he believes things he doesn't believe would be more than fruitless. Thus, all of this has further cemented in my mind why ExOfNote and I can never be. Alas, now if my heart would only follow.

Dumb Things Cause Flashbacks

RayOfSunshine has taken to saying "Dandy" whenever I ask him how he's doing. Now, 'dandy' in and of itself is not a bothersome word. Frankly, I think it's kind of a silly word, hence it's usage. However, ExOfNote always says, "Just Dandy" in response to the same question. Thus, whenever RayOfSunshine would say that I was reminded of ExOfNote. Generally, I suppose that's not a bad thing, but it was kind of annoying. Finally on Thursday after the usual greetings and the obligatory "Dandy" I informed him, "Ok, the 'dandy' has got to go."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"That's not a reason. Give me a valid reason and I'll stop."

"My ex says it all the time."

"Ok. It's gone. How's 'danderiffic'?"

"Fine." Danderiffic? Whatever. At least now I don't have to listen to 'dandy' every day and think about ExOfNote.

Indi-Rockers, Artisans, and Granolas

My roommate is really into the indi-rock/artist scene. No, let me try again, she's an artist who is really into the indi-rock scene, and is from Seattle. Needless to say, we run in different circles. The fact that I am not into indi-rock nor the whole indi-rock scene has not deterred her from trying to include me in the indi-rock parties she goes to, or hanging out with her indi-rock friends (which, frankly, I think is really sweet of her). Now, before you think that I am saying all this derogatoraly, let me just say, I like indi-rockers, I just don't like their music. I really don't like their music. Which makes it hard to hang out with them, since hanging out usually involves a minimum of one indi-rock band.

On the few occasions that I have hung out with my roommate they have been pleasant (fun, even), and I have liked the people I've met. It is interesting to me to see the completely different mind-set of that crowd from the one I usually run with. Since deciding to make computers my career path I have found myself slipping into hanging out with computer geeks, because they are the only people in the programming labs until midnight, every night. Heck, they're the only people in the computer labs, ever. I like computer geeks, I am one. So, hanging out with them really isn't that big of an issue for me. It just makes for a culture shock when I hang out with people who are decidedly not interested in computers.

Additionally, I have found that being granola in Utah makes it surprisingly hard to find people with which to hang out. Also, I am an artist and would love to be really involved in the artist community in Provo, except, I have found one major common denominator between the artist community and one of the two types of granolas I have found here (more on that later) -- they all seem to be into the indi-rock scene (are we seeing a pattern here?). Thus, hanging out with the artists or granolas who share similar beliefs as myself is really hard, especially if I want to avoid having to subject myself to indi-rock.

Now, on to the other kind of granolas I've found here. In short, they have much different core beliefs that govern their lives than I do. Which wouldn't bother me, except people who live in Utah who don't seem to believe along the same lines as the majority have an obnoxious way of dealing with it -- they get in-your-face belligerent. Which, frankly, makes them unpleasant to be around. Thus, the secondary type of granola is out, as well.

This, however, was not where this entry was supposed to be going. I started out wanting to talk about my indi-rocker roommate. There is a concert tonight that she wanted to go to. However, it was about 1 1/2 miles away, and she didn't really want to walk, so I offered her a ride. She took me up on it. When I dropper her off in my super-fly minivan I said in a lovely falsetto, "Now, give me a call when you want a ride home." "Ok." She mimicked back. "Ok, then. Have a good time, and call me when you're ready to come home, sweetie." "Gosh, Mom! Their going to make fun of me!" We laughed and I sent her on her way. Just before I pulled away one of her friends noticed me and said, "Is that Granola?" I leaned over the passenger seat and said, "Yes. Hi!" and waved. She waved, and then the other two people I knew there waved, too. Finally about 7 or 8 people were waving at me, and saying, "Hi, Granola!" I waved back and said, "Hi guys! Have fun!" And drove off. It was a funny moment. Almost as if they were all saying, "Hi Mrs. Girl!" to me. Funny stuff. Now I don't have to be a mom to know how that moment feels. But, I do know I'll be a popular mom!

Took Him Long Enough

I was about to apologize for how politically charged my blog has become these past three days, but I changed my mind. By just glancing at my name people jump to conclusions on my political viewpoints anyway, so why not put them out there for you to examine.

Today the closed-minded-bigoted "pastor" previously mentioned wrote a retractment of his earlier refusal to take down his seriously misguided sign (Daily Courier article here). It sounds to me like he got tired of people asking him to defend his actions. More importantly, however, I think that the backlash from the Baptist community may have sparked his new belief "that devoted Muslims view it [the Koran] more highly than many in the U.S. view the Bible." While I agree with this statement, I'm surprised that he hadn't already figured all of this out after the original global backlash from the very same Newsweek article that "inspired" his marquee. Let's face it, the guy is a disgrace to the cloth -- even the Baptists aren't overly thrilled with him. Oh, and because we both know you didn't bother to RTFA, my favorite part of this whole mess is this:

Lovelace, who graduated from high school in 2000, claims four degrees, including a doctor of theology degree, from "Slidell Baptist Seminary" in Slidell, La. The unaccredited correspondence school offers degrees ranging from $500 for an "Associate of Theology" to $900 for a "Doctor of Divinity," with "all lectures on cassette" and the King James Bible as the only textbook. Lovelace obtained the four degrees in less than 15 months, according to school records.

Uh, yeah. 'Nough said.

More On Lovelace

After I read this in The Digital Courier last night (and commented on it below) I remained skeptical that, perhaps, I had been duped. This morning I went back to their Web site, just to check. Sure enough, if it is someone's sick idea of a joke, they are continuing it in full force today (I am notably less skeptical today, since it has also been covered by FoxNews, MSNBC, etc.) with this added coverage.

Let's turn, now, to the article to see what he has to say today:
"My Bible teaches me that I am to stand and not be ashamed of the truth of God's word and that this, the Koran, the Book of Mormon, the Jehovah's Witness translation of the Bible, to me, that is not God's word," Lovelace said Tuesday.
...
"We have freedom of assembly inside of our country, we have freedom of religion," said Lovelace. "Muslims can worship Allah, but the thing is: I do not hate Muslims, I do not hate people of other faiths, I merely hate the false doctrine."
Well, Lovelace, I hate your false doctrine, and I'm thisclose to hating you for your blatant bigotry and hypocrisy. The good news is that he's not just hating Muslims and people with a different skin coloring (don't worry, he touches on that later), but pretty much anyone who believes differently than himself. I'm glad to know that I am fully espouse and belong to one of the three major faiths he hates so much. The more things that can distance me from him the happier I am.

The news report goes on to tell us that "Lovelace is also the commander of the Rutherford Rifles, the recently formed chapter of the Sons of Confederate Veterans." This guy is winning points for himself right and left, isn't he?

Additionally, Lovelace apparently believes "that southern white Christians should be separated from other peoples and that the Bible demanded such an action." I, honestly, want to know where he found that in the Bible. I've read it a few times and don't recall Christ teaching anywhere that we should be segregated based on race. In fact, Christ did quite the opposite, Himself.

Well, then. I wish I could offer more than outrage to this post, but I'm afraid that and disgust are about the only emotions I have here. It makes me sick to my stomach to think of this man leading a group of people towards their eternal reward. As my roommate commented to me last night, "He's one of those people that I wonder how they are going to justify themselves at the judgement bar." He'll be shocked to discover just how wrong he was. Ironically, despite his status as a "Christian" minister he'll be there, asking to partake in Christ's mercy, just like the rest of us heathens.

Why Religious Wars Rage On

This just came to my attention. For those of you too lazy to click on the link (and, really, who am I to find fault here?) I'll go ahead and summarize. That, however, does not diminish the fact that I really, really, really think you should RTFA. That said, here's the deal: According to The Daily Courier in North Carolina the pastor of a local church updated his marquee to read, "THE KORAN NEEDS TO BE FLUSHED!" Let's start here -- Um, What!?! Aren't you a Minister? Aren't you supposed to be preaching the teaching of Christ? Didn't He say something to the effect of "Turn the other cheek"? I wish, dearly, that I could give this guy the benefit of the doubt, but, really, what doubt is there? It's pretty evident what he was trying to say.

In case you have any questions, allow me to quote from the article:

When Lovelace (the minister in question) was asked whether he considered before he put the sign up that there may be some consequences or that some people may be angered, he said he was aware of the likelihood of angering some people.
"Well, I thought about it and I said there may be people who are offended by it but the way I look at it, Jesus told his followers that if the world hates you, don't feel bad because they hated me first," said Lovelace. "If we stand for what is right and for God's word and for Christianity then the world is going to condemn us and so right away when I got a complaint I said 'well somebody's mad, somebody's offended, so we must be doing something right.'"

The genius also said that he felt it was the work of God to display the sign and that no one in the church has spoken up against it to him. (With a pastor that intolerant, I would be afraid that speaking up against it to him would only lead to my personal public condemnation.)

I'm still reeling from the hatred this man is exhibiting. I wonder how he would feel if I were to publicly desecrate something he finds Holy and Sacred? You know, I bet he would be pretty pissed off (erm, I mean, "mad" and "offended") if I were to remind him of the horrific Christian atrocity by Andre Serrano entitled Piss Christ. Briefly, if you are unfamiliar with this piece the creator, Serrano, was raised Catholic, and is very openly homosexual. The piece is a photograph of a small plastic crucifix submerged in a red-golden liquid. This liquid, we are told, is a mixture of cow's blood and Serrano's own urine (The factuality of this is left to the reader). Suddenly the beautiful peace which could represent everything from personal sin to the Resurrection has new meaning, doesn't it? So, using Lovelace's own logic, Serrano must be doing something right. (Let's not fail to mention Holy Virgin Mary -- you know, the one containing a spot of elephant dung and cut outs of bare bottoms from porn magazines.)

How can religious intolerance be remotely Christian? Did Christ, Himself, not teach the woman at the well, who was a Samaritan?

Now, I'm not going to do follow the footsteps of the extreme left and cry out that the Koran needs "special" handling -- over and above that which each religion asks of their holy items, nor am I going to do as the extreme right and get enraged that someone might suggest that the holy objects of another's religion should be treated as sacred by that religion, only, all others need not bother. What I am going to do, however, is declare the following: Each and every religion should consider objects that are holy and sacred to other religions to be something that they should handle with delicacy. If I were to walk into a cathedral I wouldn't start spitting in the Holy Water, just because I don't believe in that religion. Nor, would I want someone not of my faith to similarly desecrate that which I consider sacred. If each and every person would follow this advice (allowing for the few exceptions where "holy and sacred" are just scapegoats for "horrific and abhorrent") many of the world's problems would be dramatically reduced.

I used to wonder how medieval Christians could justify the Crusades -- Pastor Lovelace has just answered that question for me. Additionally, I believe he should be stripped of his pastoralship and sent somewhere far away where he can have no influence on the minds of those seeking to know God's Word. Thank goodness his congregation is only 55 "strong".

On Being A Girl

Last week a dear friend of mine called me and asked if I was busy Tuesday night. Assuming that she wanted to grab dinner (as we try to do occasionally) I said, "No, what's up?" "Good, so FireWomanD is starting to sell Mary Kay..." "Oh! Mary Kay? I'm allergic." She missed the joke, which, frankly, surprised me, since she's known me way longer than I've been claiming allergies to anything I don't want to do. "Oh you are? Well, you can come an enjoy the company and hang out with us and stuff." "Sure, I'll be there." ARGH! (At least they won't expect me to buy anything.)

I promptly went over to OfficeNeighbor's office and demanded: "You know what sucks about being a girl?" Someone else was in his office and replied uncomfortably, "Uh, yeah... and I don't want to talk about it." "No, not that. I wouldn't talk about that with you guys! So, this girl I know is selling Mary Kay..." All in chorus now: "Oh. Yeah, that does suck about being a girl."

Fast forward four days: I grudgingly drag my A to FireWomanD's house and knock on the door. No one is home. I wait 15 minutes. Yes, fifteen. I figured I was five minutes early, I could give her 10 to be late. She never showed. So, I called my friend that had originally called me -- no answer. An hour and a half later, I glance at the stupid postcard they had sent me with her address, etc on it. The %^*( thing is tomorrow. Too bad, too. I can't go. Nuts.

Sometimes I Get Sad

Last night as I was driving down the hill from Orem to Provo via State Street I glanced over at the moon -- for it was truly level to my elevation, yet hanging over Provo -- and was struck by how beautiful it was. I know that sounds so cheesy and hokey. I'm the first to admit it. However, there is something about the full moon that has always captivated me. In recent years it has taken on a deeper meaning for me. As I was contemplating this moon I had an amazing memory.

When ExOfNote and I first started dating he had planed this elaborate date for us. He had filled his backpack with candles, matches, a sheet, and picnic items. Then, when it was well and truly dark outside he took me to this amazing park. We walked out to the middle of a field, with only the moon to guide us. When we found the perfect spot he laid out the sheet and placed the candles along the edge, then set out our picnic. He lit the candles and we reclined there, talking as the moon moved higher in the sky. After a bit the slight breeze we had been enjoying kicked up, and suddenly we couldn't keep the candles lit. Unwilling to head home we let them go out, glad that we were privileged with a full moon. Eventually the wind became cold and we had to hold each other to stay warm. Neither of us wanted to part, the evening was too perfect for that.

I still remember the way that park looked, the way he looked in the moonlight, and the way I felt as I realized how truly in love with him I had become.

Now, back in the present, my heart aches for him. I wish there were a way to change things, but I wouldn't change him if I could, so it's a fruitless wish, and that makes me sad.

Congratulate Me, I'm Engaged

The last week of last semester I was cleaning my bedroom when I ran across a ring that had belonged to my grandmother prior to her death. It is a very tinny gold and the center stone is huge! The ring itself is slightly large on me, but sometimes it's fun to wear anyway. Did I mention the whole package is more than kind of ugly? Yeah, anyway...

So I wore the ring one day, because I could. My lab buddy, at the time, saw it and was in shock. "Um, Granola?" He asked, "Is that real?" "Yeah!" Here we could say that I meant "Yeah, the ring is real, but the engagement it seems to be implying isn't." That's not what I meant at all. I was sure that this would make for an entertaining hour, until I decided to reveal the truth of the matter. My lab buddy, however, felt the need to complicate things. He knows me well enough to know that my humor often includes lying, and then immediately revealing the truth. Mostly, it's fun to tell people ridiculous things. I straighten things out quickly because I'm not a malicious liar, and it's easier to remember the truth than the details about some lie I told. Mark Twain was on to something here. Thus, LabBuddy's level of belief was about nil. In fact, he told me straight out that he didn't believe me, and he wasn't sure he was going to be able to believe me on this one, especially since I hadn't mentioned that I was dating anyone. I believe that was his fatal mistake -- never challenge this girl to convince you to believe anything. I'll do it, trust me.

LabBuddy asked my fiancée’s name. I gave him the first name that came to mind, sort of. First, I had to sift through guys that I used to date -- we've discussed these boys, and he's vaguely familiar enough with most of them that he knew why (generally) none of them had worked out. I also had to pick someone I knew intimately enough that I could give honest descriptions. In all my years of lying I've learned this fundamental lesson: The key to a believable lie is to base it on the truth as much as possible. (Erm, feel free to not compare me with Satan at this point, m'kay?) Thus, I became engaged to SuperHotFormerCoworker (which, for the record, is highly implausible, but if I had to be engaged to someone it might as well be he).

LabBuddy seemed ok with this, but, let's face it: you can make up any name you want, that doesn't mean a thing. He wanted more details though. How'd we meet? What's he look like? Is he a CS major, too? No, ISys (thank goodness, if he were a CS major that'd only make matters potentially worse). Where is he from? Where does he live? What are his post graduation plans? Let's pause here -- is anyone else thinking it's a good thing I know all this information about SuperHotFormerCoworker? When under interrogation it's really hard to not have your lie based on someone. I probably would have blurted out something stupid and given myself away. Back to our story. After all these, successfully answered, questions, LabBuddy asked the one question I was dreading -- "How did he propose?" I'm terrible at making up proposal stories (yes, I've pulled this prank before...), I think they are so personal to the couple that I have yet to find a believable "stock" proposal that I can use across the board. So, I did what any sane, desperate, person would do, I stole and mutated my roommate's engagement story.

"Well, Saturday morning he came over and took me out to breakfast."
"Where?"
"Denny's. *haha*" (Erm, anyone know any respectable restaurants in Provo that are open for breakfast?
"He did not propose to you in Denny's?!"
"HAHA! No! We had breakfast, then we went back to my house where he got down on one knee and -- blah blah blah -- said some sweet things, then asked me to marry him."
"Oh. Ok."

Later, LabBuddy would confess that it was the Denny's part that convinced him that I might really be engaged. He he he. This carried on for a long time, then our BrunetteGirlLabBuddy showed up; she noticed the ring and started grilling me, too. Here's where it is important to point out that had I not based the entire entity of my fiancée on someone I would have been screwed. I noticed LabBuddy paying attention to what I told BrunetteGirlLabBuddy trying to catch me in inconsistencies. Oh, also, just as a hint, when using this technique, do not fix the flaws of the other person that drive you nuts. It's those flaws that make them real. By the end of the evening LabBuddy still wasn't sure he believed me, which necessitated that this charade continue.

Oh, prior to all of this drama BlondGirlLabBuddy had noticed the ring and asked me about it. I told her the truth. So, as I was trying to convince LabBuddy, BlondGirlLabBuddy was sitting across the way laughing at us. When BrunetteGirlLabBuddy showed up, she asked BlondGirlLabBuddy if I was really engaged. I may always love BlondGirlLabBuddy for her response, "With Granola, you never know!"

The next day the charade continued, LabBuddy still didn't believe me. So I had to keep it up the next day. After two days of this LabBuddy, BlondGirlLabBuddy, BrunetteGirlLabBuddy, and AnotherGirlInTheMajorWe'reFriendsWith and I were all in the lab studying. I was talking to LabBuddy about things, he asked if I had seen SuperHotFormerCoworker that day (he wasn't sure when I made time for our relationship because I was always in the lab, a key factor in his believing me, I think) I said, "No, he's really cramming hard on his final project. We probably won't see each other until tomorrow." At this point BrunetteGirlLabBuddy turns to AnotherGirlInTheMajorWe'reFriendsWith and says, "Oh, did you know Granola is engaged?" She was surprised and asked to see my hand. I pretended that I hadn't heard the exchange and held up my right hand for inspection. "No, your other hand." So I held up my left hand, palm out, for her to look at. "No, the other side." I showed her the ring. She asked when I was going to break the news to her. Ok, this was getting a whole lot out. of. hand. I had to resolve this issue soon. I determined that the next day would bring the truth. Meanwhile, we spent a portion of the day talking about how I would have never chosen this ring for myself, and it belonged to his dead grandmother, which is why I haven't told him how un-pretty I thought it was; but maybe for our fifth wedding anniversary I'll have the stone reset into something more in keeping with what I like.

Wouldn't you know -- I saw none of the aforementioned individuals for the next 3 days. When I finally saw LabBuddy I broke the news to him. He laughed at himself (because I had finally truly convinced him of my pending nuptials). Then asked: "Seriously? You're seriously not engaged?"
"Yeah, I'm seriously not engaged. Never was, not to him. The ring was my grandmother's."
"So, who was SuperHotFormerCoworker?"
"Oh, someone from my last job."
"So you're really not engaged?"
"Yeah, no."
"Good, 'cause that ring was ugly."

Nice Things Said About ME Today

Today at work I actually accomplished something! It was wonderful! I was double checking something in the lab to make sure it actually worked when MyBoss came up to me to see how things were going. I told him I had a surprise and he should accompany me back to my office. I then showed him what I had (finally) accomplished. He was really pleased. I was really excited because it is the second thing that I have really done at work, and I want to be a contributing team member, rather than just a tap on resources.

Later today we had a mandatory all-hands quarterly review meeting (don't worry, it was exactly as riveting as it sounds). During said meeting MyBoss had to introduce me to the whole group, which amounted to about 500 people. I told him to be nice. What he said was rather flattering, and I'm not super sure how accurate. He said (I'd say this isn't just to toot my own horn, but I'm not going to lie...), "And then, there is Granola Girl (go ahead and stand up), she joined us in March. She's a super security hacker, and we're really excited to have her on the team. She's a great asset. Also, we're working on doing blah blah blah, and she's has lots of experience in that area." Niceness, eh? Anyway, not sure how/when he got the impression that I'm a security h4x0r, but, whatever!

Later, I was at the movies with my team and their significant others, and the person I brought -- more on that saga later -- (yeah, BigNameCompany bought two showings of StarWars for us!!!!).

Before I can continue I must describe the person about whom I am going to be relaying something he said, not that it's vital, but I have yet to mention him, and it's about time he got some back history (and a name) here... This man used to work on my team (before I started), but was promoted to a developer position, so we work together, but we're not on the same core team. Also, he eats lunch with us most days, so he's really a part of the team, even though he's not. Got it? Didn't think so. Anyway, in addition to this he has a distinctly German name, even though he's third or fourth generation American. That's notable because I'm going to call him GermanGuy. Yeah, I'm uber creative. Build a bridge and get over it.

So, GermanGuy, another guy (who likes to eat a lot of heavy meat and teases me that I don't, thus his name shall be Carnivore) and his wife, myself, and the person I brought with me were sitting on a row, thusly (--- is the spot saved for GermanGuy's wife, who had yet to join us):

tpIb, Me, --- , GG, C'sw, C

After a bit I heard GermanGuy say to Carnivore wife, "Yeah, she's our diamond in the rough. The very rough!" I turned, curious what he was talking about, and inquired. "You," he said, "You're our diamond among the rough." (Let's pause for a moment and enjoy the sentiment, rather than the direct interpretation of that phrase, because, if we take it too literally, he's telling everyone that I am dirty, rough, and ugly, but underneath it all -- beautiful and valuable. Yeah, let's just pretend he said what he meant which was: I'm a beauty mixed among the rough men, yeah, let's.) I smiled and thanked him. Carnivore then reassured his wife that I manage to hold my own. "What do you mean?" I asked innocently, "I'm a wilting flower!" "Yeah! Right!" Came the reply from somewhere.

So, today we've learned that not only am a "super security h4x0r" (google it, mom, I'm not going to define that for you unless you ask nicely), but I'm also beautiful. Can you see why I like going to work? The great thing is, they wouldn't say those things unless they meant them. Which makes the comments even more meaningful.

If You Wanna Be Happy for the Rest of Your Life...

I used to work with this guy who is rather scrawny. Not thin, not skinny, scrawny. He was also moderately obnoxious, and would, on occasion, butt into conversations in which he was not wanted. One afternoon SuperHotFormerCoworker and myself were having a discussion on the attractiveness of various individuals, and how being physically attracted to someone is necessary in a romantic relationship. The aforementioned individual happened to be walking through our office at that exact moment and said something to the effect of, "I disagree. My wife isn't very attractive." And on and on and on. The funny thing is, I don't recall asking his opinion. I also wasn't sure I believed that he was speaking accurately. So, I did what any girl would do, I asked to see a picture. Turns out, he might have been being generous when he said she wasn't very attractive. One might say she is rather unattractive. Ok, ok, the woman is ugly. As I looked at the picture trying to regain control enough of the laughter that was boiling up inside I finally did what any girl would do and said simply, "Oh, she's cute." Then I handed the photo back and hoped that he would leave post haste. He did. SuperHotFormerCoworker then asked me the burning question, "So, is she really cute?" "No." I don't know what I should have said, but I'm sure ObnoxiousScrawnyBoy knew that I was lying. What would you have done? I mean, really. The guy knew his wife was less than attractive, if I were a guy maybe I could have said, "You're right, man, she's a dog." But, as a woman I felt the need to say something inoffensive and complimentary. So, basically, I'm a liar and a jerk. Oh well!

Get Global Locally

Last week I watched Hotel Rwanda. I cried. No, I bawled. It had such an emotional impact on me that I have spent the better part of my reflection time thinking about the horrible things that man does to each other. The frustrating part is that there is little that I can do right now. Sure, I can work hard and earn lots of money and donate that money to good causes, and I can vote for those officials who I think are going to make decisions most in line with what I think should take place. All of that, however, is not good enough. It is so far distant.

Something that was said in the movie that really bothers me is this -- the main character is talking to someone and asks how, after seeing the footage from Rwanda, the West could not intervene. The person he was talking to replied, "If this footage is shown, I think people will say, 'Oh my G--. That's horrible.' And then, turn back to their dinners." The worst part is: that's all they could do. There is no course of action any Westerner could take individually to make something like that stop. The only people who would have any influence would be politicians, heads of states and governments, the UN, and those service organizations which already have a pre-established prescience, or can quickly gain access (e.g. The Red Cross, etc).

If I were to wake up tomorrow and the headline story was of mass genocide in Botswana there is nothing I can do, no recourse I could possibly take that would have any impact at all on the situation there. That's just the way it is.

Which, leads me to the question: What can I do to make an impact? I could join the Peace Corps, but is that really feasible? A 27 month commitment is not one I can make at this point in my life. I could volunteer at an orphanage in Romania or go on a volunteer mission with Hope International, or get involved with Amnesty International. None of these options, however, are feasible, mostly due to time commitments. Which leads me to an interesting question: if I could go with a group from Hope International (or to a Romania orphanage or the Red Cross or whatever else there is out there of which I am unaware) for one or two weeks (because that's all the time I could possibly take off from work) would they take me? Would my time make any difference? Would it be better if I just gave them the money I would spend on a plane ticket and stay at home? The last option, maybe. However, I had a really interesting discussion a while back on how easy it is to write the check, and how hard it may be to give your time; and that is precisely why we should give our time.

I don't know, and I really doubt I'm going to solve it here. Last night, as my roommate and I were discussing this issue and she suggested that the things I can affect are right here around me. She pointed out that I can raise my (future) children to be more globally minded, for example. That can't be all the good I can do! I want to make a difference! I want to go spend a month in Africa or Latin America or Russian or China, I want to change the world!

Which leads me to the thought that I have long harbored: before we worry about Africa we should worry about America; and before we worry about America we should worry about the state and city we live in. Imagine the kind of America we could have, if we helped those around us first. Then, after we accomplished that, we moved across the world. The global impact would be astronomical. But, that takes time, and time is something we're short on. In the meantime, however, I think Habitat for Humanity is still building homes in our area.

New Neighbors

Two girls (and possibly one guy -- still not sure on that one) just moved into the upstairs of my house. They all seem really nice, and have been really good about smoking in the driveway/their cars, etc and not in the house. I really appreciate not having to babysit them in that regard. Saturday night they had a party, and invited us. It was a sweet gesture, but none of us went.

Sunday night my roommates and I were up late laughing and having a generally pleasant evening. Around midnight we may or may not have gotten a whole lot loud and riotous. Out of the blue (I'd say suddenly, but it was too timid to be sudden) there was a knock on the front door. One of the girls upstairs had come down to see if everything was ok. Whoops! I guess we were too loud. Sorry, we'll keep it down. "No," she informed us, "we could barely hear you, and we couldn't tell if you were laughing on crying, and since there was a cop car in the driveway just a minute ago, we thought I'd better come check." "There was a cop car in the driveway?" Yeah, guess the neighbors to the South were being paid a visit. Nice.

Anyway, to sum up, the girls are super nice, and it's great to have normal neighbors who are just: normal!

On Being Rich

Two thoughts in one entry. I know you're excited!

(a) My roommate's fiance and I were joking around the other night -- the result of which had me hollering (in a friendly fashion) at him about some "atrocity" he had done. He hollered right back, "You've changed a lot ever since you got rich, Granola!"

(2) Today I went house hunting up in Lehi. Yeah, I'm buying a house, sometime soon! W00t! Anyway, I went in my comfy, "it's Saturday, and I feel no need to impress anyone" clothes, which include the afore mentioned Boston Tee (someday I'll get around to linking to that post for you), jeans, and flip-flops. The first model home I walked into I asked the woman if I could take a look around. "Sure!" She said. "It's always fun to look at homes, even if you're not looking to buy one!" I smiled, "Actually, I am looking to buy one." "Great!" I went looking around and came back to talk to her some more. As we talked I mentioned my home town and she asked what brought me to Utah. The following conversation ensued. Italicized comments are the unspoken exchange/what we each were thinking.

"BYU." Hi, I'm a stereotypical Mormon.

"Oh, and what's keeping you here?" I didn't notice a wedding ring. Perhaps I didn't look fast enough, or are you engaged? Or, maybe just too poor to move out of here?

"I work for BigNameCompany." Yeah, not married, or engaged, just a member of the workforce. Doing my best to contribute to the GNP.

"Oh? What do you do?" Wow! You're not married or engaged, just a member of the workforce!

"I'm a programmer." Did I mention that I'm brilliant?

"Oh! So, you're really staying." $$ -- So, you're not wearing that because you can't afford anything else, you're wearing that because you can.

"Yeah." Yeah. I love being "rich" and throwing off your sizing up.

Just A Regular Guy

Right before my graduation processional I was standing around with some of my friends chatting, when I glanced over and saw some girl wearing a pair of really cute shoes. I said to the guys (let's be honest, there weren't a whole lot of girls in my major), "I really like those girl's shoes. They're so cute!" My friend turned to me and said, "Granola, just when I think you're a regular guy, you go and say something like that and remind me that you're a girl!"

Sometimes I feel that way about myself, too.

Why Do I Care?

Today we had a mandatory meeting at work. The conference room has rows of tables and chairs. I was sitting on the fourth row, RayOfSunshine was diagonally in front of me on row 3, and MyBoss was in front of him in row 2. RayOfSunshine and I were joking around about something and he did the mock I'm-flipping-you-off flip off. You know the one, the flipper makes a harsh gesture stopping just short of giving the flipee the finger. I said, "No, it looks more like this:" and casually gave him the bird. Which, frankly wouldn't have been that big of a deal, except MyBoss happened to have turned around at that exact moment, and "caught" me doing so. He looked a bit shocked, and smirked at me. I turned about three shades of pink -- rather surprising, since (a) I don't blush; and (2) it shouldn't have been all that embarrassing -- and tried to hide behind my stenopad. Yeah. Failed there. We all three laughed, and MyBoss just kind of shrugged as if to say, "Meh. Whatever, Granola."

Flirt or Friendly

There is this guy on the team at work. He's nice, friendly, tall, and attractive. He's also married. Very, very, married. Now, I'm not one to borrow husbands, and have absolutely no interest in him because of that fact. However, I can't decide if he is being friendly or flirtatious, and I don't know how to deal with that. Sadly, there are no other girls on the team for me to watch his interaction with them and judge from there.

On Monday we ('we' the team, not 'we' he and I) went to lunch at the food court at the mall. We (the team) eat lunch together every day, so this wasn't out of the ordinary. However, we generally eat in the food court at work, where there happens to be a rather robust salad bar that I frequent. At the mall, however, there is no such salad bar, thus my options were rather limited. I ended up getting Subway. As did he. That whole exchange was rather odd. We all walked up, and kind of paused in front of the Subway as we surveyed our options. Everyone else wandered off to stand in line at their chosen fast food establishment. I, on the other hand, just kind of merged in line where we were. I turned to him and made some joke about how maybe he should pick what he wanted to eat. Then, I made disparaging comments about most of the restaurants around us. He smiled down at me, in a mildly flirtatious manner, and said, "Plus, the company is good here." I laughed. What else could I do? I have really no clue how to figure out what is going on. I certainly don't want to ask him straight out -- how awkward would that be -- and, I don't want to go to our boss and express my concerns, because is that really something worth "tattling" about? It's not like he's making advances, just quick moments of potentially flirtatious comments.

Anyway, I have no clue how to resolve this one, or figure it out. Which is super frustrating to me, because I am a wonderful flirt, and can usually determine quickly if what I think is going on is, in deed, going on. My hands are tied, and I'm stumped. Suggestions and thoughts are more than welcome.

Strategy

On Sunday I suddenly got worried that I was going to catch the proverbial "it" from MyBoss as a result of Saturday's antics. I got so nervous, in fact, that I contemplated taking the day off. Finally, I decided that I would go to work and tell him what happened, and face the fallout like the grown-up I'm pretending to be. That, or just let him come to me. Either one.

A little before 9 am he came tearing by my office, clearly late for some meeting or another. I didn't address it then. By 11:30 I was wondering if I could manage to go the whole day and not have to face him, or my "security breach."

At 11:45 I left to take a long lunch. On my way out the door of the building I ran into one of the security thugs (used here, loosely) who busted me on Saturday. I didn't recognize him, but I was sure he was one of them when he said, "Oh, it's you again." "Yes," I replied, "and this time, I have my own card!" "Good," he said, and I left him standing there as I exited the other side of the revolving door.

So far, so good. Due to errands I had to run during that hour I didn't have to face MyBoss over lunch, *whew*.

Around 1:15 I was back at work and sauntering down the hall. MyBoss walked up, looking like he had something on his mind. "Oh, no," I thought. "He got the email." "Hey, Granola, did OfficeNeighbor give you your laptop back?" (MyBoss was using my laptop to do some work, and apparently OfficeNeighbor -- who never showed up to work today -- had taken it back to give to me, but has yet to.) "Nope." "Ok, thanks."

Wow, I narrowly escaped that one! Now, I just had to make it to 5.

2pm rolled around and I remembered the weekly team meetings we have. I was sure I could slip in and slip out and not have to deal with it. Unless, he made a general, "Hey, guys, just so you know..." announcement. I got there before he, and when he showed up, he took the seat next to me. "Here it comes," I thought, as we waited for some other people to show up. Nope. Maybe he was going to wait until a less public moment. Yet, as the meeting continued every time he'd move to the next item of business, I was sure it was going to be that dreaded general announcement. The meeting ended. Nothing. He was out the door before I. No comments, no emails, no reprimand. Nothing. At. All! Whooo hooo!

I'll probably get it tomorrow.

Progression

When ExOfNote was in town we went to church together, naturally. Since he is my ex, and I kind of am interested in a few guys in the ward, I didn't want people thinking we were together, so I introduced him as "my friend" and made sure we didn't stand too close together, at first. By the end of Sunday School it ceased to matter to me what other people saw. Ok, I suppose now is an opportune moment for a confession -- ExOfNote and I have excellent chemistry, and we are both still so pathetically attached to one another that when we are together we slip easily into the "boyfriend-girlfriend" model. Generally, however, he lives in a different country, so we don't see each other to do that all too frequently, so we don't do the boyfriend-girlfriend thing too much. Now, back to our regularly scheduled blog.

Well, yesterday, I was talking to a friend of mine about ExOfNote and she laughingly told me that watching us during church was like watching a relationship grow. At first, she informed me, we walked in "like t-h-i-s f-a-r a-p-a-r-t" and by the end of church we were all "lovey-dovey." I didn't quite believe her, so I asked for more specifics. Apparently, the progression moved from standing far apart to standing close together, then standing really close together, then she was like, "Oh! He has his arm around her; and she's ok with it. Ok." Then, apparently, we moved to holding hands, and leaning in towards each other, etc, etc, etc. By the time we left church it was blatantly obvious to everyone with eyes that we were not only together, but deeply in a relationship. I guess that ruined my chances with any of the boys I was interested in.

More than anything, however, I'm super frustrated with myself. ExOfNote and I had an amazing five year relationship (yeah, you read that right, five years and not married). He's a great guy, and one day (if he so chooses) he'll make someone an excellent spouse. The tragic part of the story is how much we love each other, and how our relationship can never be permanent. I'm reminded of our deep love each time we're together, and it breaks my heart anew to remember it's sure impossibility. I wish there were some way I could change the things that I so desperately want to change, but I can't, and if I could I wouldn't. What a nightmare. I think it's interesting to see how other people can see our sentiments, whether we try to hide or show them. I guess when you wear your heart on your sleeve other people are bound to catch sight of it, now and then.

Tonight at a church thing a girl I know asked, "Are you still dating that guy?" I smiled and said, "No." Content to leave it at that. Another girl who was standing near by asked, "What happened?" "We broke up a year and a half ago." "Oh." I think she was confused as to the whole mess, but so are ExOfNote and myself, so why should it make sense for anyone else?

Busted!

When I left work last night I left my cell phone charger in the office. I reasoned to myself that I probably wouldn't use it. However, when I glanced at it my phone this morning, my charge was too low to plan on it lasting me all week end. So, I drove to the office to retrieve it. Turns out that they weren't kidding when they told me that my clearance is good from 7am-7pm, and not on the weekends. Sadness.

Ever the resourceful one, I called my friend that works there and asked if I could use his id badge. Not a problem, I just had to go pick it up from his house, and return it when I was finished.

I got to the office, scanned his card and walked in the door. Next came the security check-point. I assumed that I wouldn't need to scan at that point, so I didn't. Well, that set off an alarm, but security reset it. Then, I walked up to my office, grabbed my charger, checked my email and headed out.

In the hallway I ran into two security guards, a man and a woman. They asked to see my badge, so I gave them mine (wisely, I had thought to grab it, too). The woman looked at it and said, "Hmm, that's not the name we had on the screen." "No, you probably came up with this one," I offered, and handed her my friend's badge. Really, at this point there is no use, they knew I had his badge.

They took both of our names down, and "reminded" me that we can't use other people's security badges. They asked me to remind him of that policy, as well. No worries. I took both of our badges and left.

When I got to his house my friend asked, "So, did you get busted?" "Yeah, how'd you know?" "They called me as soon as you swiped it." "Oh."

I figure that my setting off the alarm is what triggered the whole mess. Funny enough, I'm seriously not worried about it, and figure that MyBoss will hear about it on Monday, and then I will, too. If it turns out to be a big deal, I'll feel moderately bad, but until then, meh.

Punctuality Is An Option

Last semester I took a business lecture class. As part of the class (predictably) we had guest speakers come and present their business and tips for success every class period. The class was worth 1 credit, and was two hours long, so we met once every other week. There were a few attendance rules for class -- we had to attend 80% of the lectures, could be no more than five minutes late, and could not leave early. Apparently, some people failed to grasp the concept of punctuality, and how vital it is in the business world.

One day, near the end of the semester, I was milling about in the hallway outside of the class room waiting for the previous class to vacate. A nice enough seeming girl struck up a conversation with me. During the course of the conversation she started complaining about the attendance policy, specifically, the punctuality portion. She could not understand how we could be graded on punctuality. I shrugged and said I fully support being graded on punctuality, after all, "this is a business class, and punctuality is a vital skill in the business world." I didn't add, but thought to myself, it's pretty much a vital life skill.

She whined a bit more then said, "See, I'm an anthropology major. Punctuality is an option. They'd much rather we show up late with something intelligent to contribute than show up on time with nothing to say."

With a twinge of sarcasm I replied, "I'm a Computer Science major. Personal hygiene is an option. That doesn't mean that we're all ok with people never showering. Some things are just rude and disrespectful to those around you."

I think she missed the point. I never did talk to her again to be sure she got it.

A Closed Door Means Mischief

I left work for an hour and a half this afternoon to run errands. When I got back OfficeNeighbor had his door closed. A sure sign that he wasn't working. I looked through the window aside his door, and smiling shook my head. He popped open the door and I asked, "Who's on?" "About six people. Jump on in."

So, I went into my office and logged into our Unreal Tournament server. An hour later, I have put in a good showing for myself. In fact, we played a team game that requires you to destroy the enemy's power supplies. I sucked it up for the first two rounds, and in the last one I was determined to be an asset, not a drain on the team. Not only did I put in a decent showing, I destroyed the final power supply, a fact which, apparently, did not go unnoticed by OfficeNeighbor. As he walked by he looked in my window and smilingly nodded acknowledgement of my accomplishments! I know it sounds lame, but I'm glad that the guys really consider me one of the team, I guess I never realized that I was worried that they might not.

The Importance of Punctuation

In my office I have a set of shelves which hang above my desk. Sitting on the far shelf is a bottle of honey that I use to flavor my herbal tea. Last week I had a cup of tea to which I had yet to add the requisite honey. One of my coworkers was sitting under said shelf and I asked him to hand me the honey. He raised an eyebrow and we shared a laugh as we experimented with verbal punctuation, and what he mis-heard:

"Would you hand me that, Honey?" versus "Would you hand me that honey?"
We settled on: "Hey, OfficeNeighbor, would you please hand me that jar of honey to use in my tea?"

Ahh, much better.

Tree Hugger

Sunday I was walking with one of the hot boys who live across the street from me. We were having a plesant enough chat when, all of the sudden, he decided he didn't want the gum he was chewing anymore, and spit it into the grass! I stopped mid-sentence and cried, "You did not just spit that in the grass!"
"Yeah. So?"
"So, that's so not eco-responsible!"
"It's bio-degradable."
"It is not!"
"It should be."
"Well, that may be true, but you shouldn't have spit it out!"
"Whatever, you little Tree Hugger!"
Uh, duh! Here's a big news flash. Granola is a Tree Hugger, imagine the implications!
Eventually, we each let it drop, only to have it brought up again, later.
"I can't belive you spit it in the grass."
"I can't believe you had such a cow about it!"
"I did not have a cow!"
"Whatever. It was a very large mammal!"
"Whatever."
"Tree Hugger."
"And...?"

I still can't believe he just spit it out like that. (Ecological implications aside, gum just sucks to step in.) I think he's still in shock that I'm a tree hugger.