Abandonment issues.

I have been really terrible about updating lately. Life has been...ridiculous. (In the busy way, not the story way. You'd have heard those.)
For the three of you left still checking for updates, I'll get back to writing in about a month. You know how sometimes I leave you for a month to work at summer camp? Yeah, that's happening again. Because my life is actually pretty awesome.
I'll try to live some good stories for you!

Still making friends.

Readers might remember my recent quest to cut down on the junk mail (and paper) in my life. I've been shooting off emails about every catalog and donation request to find its way into my mailbox. I shop online; who needs the catalogs anyway? My sent folder is full of these emails. Including one to the National Wildlife Federation. (Their goal, you see, being to preserve nature and wildlife. A fine goal, admittedly. As previously stated, I love trees. And animals. Etc.) The automated responses always tell me they've removed my address, with the caveat that any mailings in process will still head my way. Ok. I can understand that. But how long does that take? Because I emailed the NWF around 2 months ago. And this weekend, received YET ANOTHER ENVELOPE.

This one was huge; it was the kind of envelope that suggests you've been accepted to a university. After reacting like a mature adult,** I opened it to find a wide variety of dead trees. Letters seeking my financial support, a return envelope, the ubiquitous address labels, and my personal favorite--a calendar. A freaking calendar! Are you kidding me with this, National Wildlife Federation? It's full of pictures of some of the wonders of nature we're all trying to protect. I get the idea...maybe I'm not inclined to donate money but then Wait polar bears?? OMG SO CUTE!!1! I see through your ploy, NWF.

Oh, you want to see the calendar? Ok.

Image by Tom & Pat Leeson
"Just try to cut down my tree and I will eat your face." Fair enough , Florida panther.

Image of Northern Gannett by Arthur Morris/BIRDS AS ART

Sea otter image by Art Wolfe

Bobcat, Image by Jurgen & Christine Sohns/FLPA/Minden Pictures
Bobcats can be so self-centered.

Wow, animals are a lot surlier than I thought. Chill out guys. This kind of attitude might be why some of you are endangered. I'm just saying. Right duck?

Mallard duckling, Image by Tom & Pat Leeson

Exactly.


It's time for another email! Guys, the good news here is that I think summer vacation is coming at a really good time for me...clearly I need MORE free time.



**By "reacting like a mature adult," I clearly mean "yelled a little bit and proceeded to rant, including commentary on every calendar page, which may or may not have led to the above pictures."

Excuse me.

Guys, do babies care what their diapers look like? I mean, is this something we're legitimately concerned with? That we have even thought twice about the style factor of a diaper is such an embarrassingly first-world problem.
Diapers that look like denim? REALLY, world? Really? As if anyone would see that and think, "How fashionable. I wish it was socially acceptable for ME to crap in my jeans. Babies have all the luck!"

Gross.

Thee more minutes?

For the past two hours, we've had some severe weather warnings going on around here. Thunderstorms, tornadoes, and flash floods. Which means the local weathermen jumped to action and covered it--for the entire two hours. Not one commercial break. They just went over and over and over the conditions. The poor guys sounded bored of their own voices. They sighed occasionally. (I cannot make this up.)
For added convenience, after we saw the areas where weather was the worst, a list of cities where the storm was headed was put on screen. Along with times. The time when the worst was supposed to hit.
This Timeline of Terror was hardly helpful, as it just made me sit and stare at the clock! Waiting. Calculating how bad things were and how much worse they could get. What kind of helpful tool is that??
As we're back to our regularly scheduled rerun of House, I think things are ok for now. According to the Timeline of Terror, I should be good for a while. Until the next wave comes through, anyway.

Sleep well, kids.

Holiday.

I realize this is a bit of a departure from my usual writing, but I want to tell you about a man who didn't let me down.

Some months ago, I sat on an airplane next to a young man fresh from Army basic training. He didn't speak until takeoff, when he awkwardly blurted out, "This is going to be really weird." I decided to go with it and asked what he meant by that. (All the while hoping he didn't mean any kind of weird that would involve me.) It was strange, he said, because the last half-dozen times he'd been in an airplane, he'd jumped out. It was a great opening line.
For the next two hours, I learned that he'd gone through basic training and jump school. (He's now a paratrooper; clearly the most badass thing one can choose to do in the military.) We talked about a lot of things, including why he'd enlisted and his feelings about going home again. He was raised in a military family.
I have a military family too, and was raised with a respect for it. Without going into the politics of it, I don't always agree with the actions of the US military. But soldiers? That's a different story. In my family, that's something you honor and respect.
I asked how he felt about his upcoming deployment, thinking that it's a pretty scary time in the world to be facing deployment to the Middle East. He shrugged his shoulders. I got the impression that it was still quite new to him, that it hadn't fully hit him. He enlisted because he felt like it was something he should do. He said he didn't like sitting back knowing there was more he could be doing. I commented that he was doing something selfless--I'm certain I don't possess that kind of bravery. I actually felt ridiculous as the words came out of my mouth. I was sure this kid would look at me and think, "Lady, there is no need to get sentimental about this, ok? You're not going to cry, are you? It's just something I do, whatever." It didn't go that way at all, though. (Fortunately.) His attitude was really surprising, particularly for a man in his early 20s. (We all know that demographic typically sucks at life.) "Oh," he said softly. He struggled for words. "I don't...thank you. That means a lot." He spoke like I was doing him a favor.
"It's the truth," I said.

So to that kid, who never told me his name but told me plenty of funny and interesting stories, thanks for making my flight anything but boring. I sometimes think about him when there are troops on the news being deployed to Afghanistan...and I hope he's ok.
And while you're home from work today enjoying your day off, take a minute to think about why we observe Memorial Day.

It's like a fairy tale.

I think the practice of going through one's phone numbers occasionally is a fine one. Useful, even. Today I got a text from someone doing just that, asking if the number was still Amanda. When he asked how we knew each other, I was not offended. When he apologized after learning the answer, I was still not offended. However. When he asked me out, I was Officially Offended.
From my perspective, the whole thing reads a little bit like, "How do I know you? Oh, right. I forgot that I sort of wanted to bang you. What do you say?" AND YOU CAN IMAGINE HOW I SWOONED.

Guys, we need a little more tact and a little less douchebaggery.



Oh, and if that isn't romantic enough for you, boy in question has a girlfriend. Major points deducted from considerable deficit.

Watch out kittens; you'll be next.

Lately I've been on the warpath about organizations and non-profits sending me letters seeking a donation...along with address labels, calendars, greeting cards, and window clings. They stuff those envelopes full of crap and mail it off like money grows on trees!
Hey guys? You're a non-profit. You'd probably have more money if you stopped making presents for all your potential donors!
Don't get me wrong, I think saving animals and wetlands and American veterans and children and whatever else are all great causes. Good for you.
But oh, how I hate paperwork. Just today I spoke to my students about being ecologically responsible. Not to mention that it just clutters up my life and usually those address labels are ugly. (Seriously. I'm 45 years and 6 cats away from appreciating some of that clip art.)
I've been emailing every group to request that they remove me from their mailing list. It's liberating. I'm not sure how helpful it'll be in the long run, but it's liberating, dammit.
However, I decided to donate to the Arbor Day Foundation because hey, I love trees! We stand for the same principles! I'm all about saving the trees. And so I wrote my check.

THEY SEND ME SO MUCH PAPER. Articles and letters and catalogs and SO MUCH PAPER. It's hardly the point of the organization, don't you think? Hey Arbor Day, shoot me an email. I'll have a look.

This week was the last straw. Mere months after my membership check, I received a stuffed envelope seeking a renewal of my membership. And address labels. And greeting cards. With envelopes, of course. And a letter. And a return envelope. All made of trees, Arbor Day Foundation. You MUST have spent my $10 by now. What about the trees we were going to preserve together?? How much money did they get?
I went to their website, intent on sending a scathing email, like the evil harpy that I am. "Dear Nature Hippies, Please cease and desist." I mean, really? Who feels good writing that kind of email? (Me.) But it was time. I filled out the website's form, edited my carefully crafted note. I asked how many trees we were possibly saving, what with all the paper stuffed in my mailbox. I pointed out my appreciation for trees and my enthusiasm for their preservation. Then I said to remove my name from their mailing list. Send.

THE WEBSITE DIDN'T WORK. There was some sort of "error." I tried again today, to no avail. Arbor Day Foundation, you left me no choice.

Fishing through my bag of paper to be recycled, I pulled out one of my brand new ADF greeting cards and envelopes. I affixed my favorite leafy address label, along with a snappy little tree sticker for good measure. I hand-wrote my email on that card, and am sending it along in the morning. We'll do this your way, Arbor Day Foundation. That's just fine by me.