because you really want to know about my alphabet.

You've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with the ABC's of YOU.

A - Age: 29

B - Bed size: queenie

C - Chore you hate: scrubbing nasty, old, wet, formerly crusty crap off pots and pans

D - Dogs or cats: small baby kittens only

E - Essential start your day item: coffee & smoothie breakfast combo

F - Favorite color: rojo

G - Gold or Silver: Silver

H - Height: 5'11.72"

I - Instruments you play: I used to be able to play clarinet and took piano in college. Plus my singing voice is AMAZING.

J - Job title: scientific & English document editor; future bookstore owner

K - Kids - I sure do love them, but I don't want any of my own.

L - Loud or quiet: this is silly. But I'll choose quiet.

M - Mom's name: Mary Carol

N - Nicknames: Jan, Janny, J-bird, Regretta Person, Janevie, Jan-Jan, Janey, Janny, Handicapped Twin (or "HT"), ROSE, Neighb, Bonzi, Jon, Jonny, Jenny, Jynni, Word, Geddeeeeeeezzzz....The list goes on and on, really.

O - Overnight hospital stay other than birth: no thank you.

P - Pet Peeve: pen-tappers in otherwise quiet spaces

Q - Quote from a movie: "Ted, where's that fancy corkscrew? You know that fancy corkscrew for the wine bottle? Uh-Ted?" (Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter)

R - Right or left handed: Right

S - Siblings: Rosaurio Dawson Rose Rosacea Rosalita Rosalia

T - Time you wake up: rarely before 9:30, dahling

U- Underwear: under WHERE?

V - Vegetable you dislike: eggplant, and I had way too much that soggy stuff served to me in Argentina a couple months ago. Yech!

W - Ways you run late: I tend to forget VERY IMPORTANT THINGS inside and have to run back and forth to grab all the goods pre-departure. Once I was on the way to the Atlanta airport for a trip to Europe and realized I had left my suitcase in the parking lot. Neat.

X - X-rays you've had: Teefs, neck, foot

Y - Yummy food you make: breaded chicken breast! Pasta with sauce! artichoke & spinach dip! Guacamole! Hummus! Stirfry! I am a CHEF!

Z - Zoo favorite: In Melbourne, FL, it's the crazy birds who have been known to peck at my father's head A. Hitchcock-style

why do I keep watching Brothers and Sisters?

I mean, the show drives me crazy. There are lots of good actors, that's true. Maybe I'm wishing Brenda--ahem, Rachel Griffiths--will be as frustratingly terrible and lovable and hate-able as she is on Six Feet Under. Maybe now that I've started involving myself in the Walker family story I can't just bow out.

Here's an email I just wrote to my mom. The show is making me mad! Not as mad as The L Word does, but still.

This new half-brother is annoying the crap out of me! The whole show is, as usual, but of course I keep watching.
1. All the Walkers are happy.
2. Oh wait. Each person suddenly has a personal crisis.
3. Nora decides everyone should come over for dinner.
4. All the kids realize what each other's crisis is. They decide not to tell their mom.
5. During the group dinner, everyone acts crazy and, one by one, the secrets start to spill.
6. Nora gets upset.
7. The kids yell at each other.
8. Nora yells at all of them to be quiet.
9. People storm off.
10. Later, Nora explains that she is strong enough to hear whatever they have to dish out.
11. Everyone apologizes and says "I love you."
12. Start at beginning again.

Love,
me

P.S. I have entertained myself. Time for a blog entry. But first I must kill Ryan the obnoxious half-brother!

something an ol lady said once

I just remembered one of my favorite quotes of all time.

Here's my dad a couple summers ago in Geneva, OH with two cousins.

Once my dad and I were visiting my grandma in Pittsburgh. We were near the elevator bank when we came upon a woman in a wheelchair. She stopped dead in her tracks, looked at my dad in happy surprise, and said, "And who is this tall, shiny building of a man?!"

I hope he was flattered. I know I thought it was a pretty awesome compliment.

let's race with destiny

I started watching this as a joke and then ended up with tears streaming down my cheeks. Thanks, Whitney.

I hear that she's doing well these days, that she's kicked the drugs and is coming out with a new album. That's wonderful news--as much fun as it was to marvel over her non sequiturs and generally dazed, giggly nature on interviews and that awful reality show she Bobby had, I was always sad to see how badly she was doing. This is the woman whose poster I had on my wall after my mom and aunt went to a late 80s WH concert. (I wonder now where that poster is. I seem to recall there was a crooked rectangle situated inside another, pink and/or teal confetti sprinkled all around Whit's face. God, that was a good poster--it was on the back of my bedroom door for quite awhile there.) I did a Google image search for it and came up dry. Luckily I found a couple other gems that made me feel better. Look how adorable she was!


I'm hopeful that she really is doing well and that it lasts awhile. At least creepy Bobby is out of the picture.

I want onnneeee moment in tiiiiimmmmeee!

Looks like it's time to pop in that Greatest Hits album!

noncommittal blogging alert

I decided to get a Tumblr.com account. My username is jannygirljr. Thanks, Lawson, for the inspiration.

There are often moments when I see things I want to share with people, but it's getting to the point where Facebook is rife (or overstuffed) with users' posts on TONS of stuff, so I'm discouraged from posting mine. I don't know why I resist--maybe I don't want people to see how much I am on Facebook wasting my life away.

The articles, photos, and slice o' life stories are often not substantial enough for a blog entry (in my strange rule system), so I usually end up not sharing. Tumblr has granted my wish to be able to have a thought occur to me and post it immediately. Today I remembered a funny photo of my dad and decided to post it along with a story. I guess I could've written about it in my blog, but it seemed more fun to post on my mini-blog. Ew. Mini-blog.

Adieu.

moneybags

While looking through piles upon piles of old letters from family and friends, I found $43 in cash! One $20 bill was from my dad in 2002; the other $23 came to me in 2003 on my 23rd birthday.

Best part of this is that RIGHT before I picked up the birthday envelope to inspect it, I told Julie & Jim: "Man, it's my dream to find a twenty dollar bill in one of these old envelopes."

Being psychic is awesome and rewarding.

some favorite photos (summer 2006)

taken in Toronto

taken in Toronto

Just one of many gorgeous spots on the Islands in Toronto

My grandfather's name was Herbert Geddis, and he was a fireman. I was
delighted to find a fire station on Herbert Av. in Toronto!

The Tilt-a-Whirl at Erieview (or "Pera's") Park in Geneva-on-the-Lake, Ohio. A few
months after this was taken, the longtime amusement park was dismantled and is now no longer.

Here are some photos from summer 2006 that I shot. I have recently tried to get back into photography a bit, and I'm succeeding! I want some fancy lenses and such that will fit my digital SLR. When I bought my digital SLR a year ago, I was under the impression that my rather large collection of lenses and accessories (given to me by my grandfather) would fit the body of the new digital. Wrong impression. It seems there's no adapter to get these lenses to fit on any camera made in the last ten years, so I'm pretty disappointed.

The need for this statement won't ever arise, I'm sure, but here it is anyway: Please do not repost, reprint, or share the photographs on this site without express written permission from Janet Geddis. Thank you.

HOPE

Maybe it's The National song playing in the video. Maybe it's Barack's message. Maybe it's the unabashed hope so many millions of us are feeling. In any case, this video inspires me, tears me up, and moves me to action. VOTE OBAMA!

Top 5 Reasons Obama Supporters Shouldn't Rest Easy

Hi, guys. The Obama campaign folks sent me the following list and I thought I'd take their advice and repost it. If you're not pro-Obama, rest easy--I'm not going to pressure you to change your mind (even though I really think you should!). If you are pro-Obama, reading the following list is very important!! Repost this list if you desire.

TOP 5 REASONS OBAMA SUPPORTERS SHOULDN'T REST EASY

1. The polls may be wrong. This is an unprecedented election. No one knows how racism may affect what voters tell pollsters—or what they do in the voting booth. And the polls are narrowing anyway. In the last few days, John McCain has gained ground in most national polls, as his campaign has gone even more negative.

2. Dirty tricks. Republicans are already illegally purging voters from the rolls in some states. They're whipping up hysteria over ACORN to justify more challenges to new voters. Misleading flyers about the voting process have started appearing in black neighborhoods. And of course, many counties still use unsecure voting machines.

3. October surprise. In politics, 15 days is a long time. The next McCain smear could dominate the news for a week. There could be a crisis with Iran, or Bin Laden could release another tape, or worse.

4. Those who forget history... In 2000, Al Gore won the popular vote after trailing by seven points in the final days of the race. In 1980, Reagan was eight points down in the polls in late October and came back to win. Races can shift—fast!

5. Landslide. Even with Barack Obama in the White House, passing universal health care and a new clean-energy policy is going to be hard. Insurance, drug and oil companies will fight us every step of the way. We need the kind of landslide that will give Barack a huge mandate.

If you agree that we shouldn't rest easy, please sign up to volunteer at your local Obama office by clicking here:

http://pol.moveon.org/obama/office.html?source=blog&id=14534-5183653-nFgmwbx&t=1

my lava lamp and other forgotten boredom-busters

Last night I rediscovered my old lava lamp. In eighth or night grade, the lava lamp with red lava (or was it a red base?) was my most coveted item to be found at Spencer Gifts at North Point Mall. I wanted a lava lamp. I needed one. I would not accept one unless it was silver and red.

When I saved up enough money to get one (or convinced my parents to donate to the cause), I found that Spencer's only had silver lamps with black lava. I dropped my stubbornness and got that one--such was my desperation.

In the last ten years, I've probably turned it on once. Many are the times I've thought of selling it or giving it away but a, who would buy it? and b, WHY WOULD I GIVE AWAY ANYTHING THAT I MIGHT POSSIBLY USE ONE DAY IN THE FUTURE?*

Today I plugged the old girl in. I'd forgotten how gross and blobby it looks for the first twenty or thirty minutes. Yech.


* This is my general policy and results in my having a three-bedroom house filled to the brim with my own crap. Crap that I love.

Did you see me on TV?

Tonight's (Wednesday's) David Letterman show features Dave talking about the quilt my aunt made him as well as a little zoomed-in shot of Jim and me in the audience. (I'm opened-mouthed, surprised he mentioned Auntie Dorothy despite my having reminded him of the gift she gave him years ago.)

Here you can read about my stardom. Clips are unavailable, much to my fans' chagrin.

http://www.cbs.com/latenight/lateshow/wahoo/index/php/20080507.phtml

The end.

Love,
superstar

JSYK: themigrainegirl.blogspot.com is where it's at!

Hi guys,

I haven't been writing on here much, but I have kept up my anonymous-until-recently blog! It's really is a project for me that has ended up benefiting lots of migraineurs as well as my family and friends, who want to understand my Migraine disease better.

Have at it if you'd like: http://themigrainegirl.blogspot.com

something my sister heard

My sister has a knack for overhearing really funny things. My father and mother share this gift. Come to think of it, relatives on both sides of the family do--my mom's side of the family tends to remember funny quotes from strangers' conversations by heart, whereas my father keeps little scraps of paper on which he'll write humorous tidbits. Ever the absent minded professor, he'd forget the specificity of the instance and only remember a general sense of hilarity.

Julie (my sis) has been sending me emails containing funny names she and her friends come across at work, in the newspaper, and on TV. The names are RIDICULOUS. The very best ones tend to be her friends' students at school or my people my sister has heard of through work, so that means I cannot share them. Confidentiality and all that. (I suppose very vague rules may've been breached, but posting them on the internet would be a little obvious.)

Here's an excerpt from an email she just sent. It made me laugh and made me overjoyed yet again that she'll be here next week for MY BIRTHDAY!

I overheard a strange conversation the other day at the grocery store. It was so strange that I didn't even remember it for several days.

Kid: I have a headache!"

Mother: "Well, duh! You had your head stuck in a hole in the wall!"

Happy Xmas.

This is the first year I have spent Christmas without my parents, and it'll be the second Christmas morning I'll wake up without my sister. No, nothing sinister or heartbreaking happened to her--she just spent Christmas with her former girlfriend's family one year and came home a few days after to have an after-Christmas get-together with us.

My parents didn't feel like traveling away from their adopted Florida homeland. I didn't feel like going to their Florida home for the third time in three months only to turn around three days later. Julie didn't want to book air travel from Milwaukee when the Midwest has been erupting in snowstorms every few weeks. (She thought correctly on that one--Milwaukee is all snowy and wintry mixy right now, and many people's travel plans have screeched to a halt.)

I'm here in Athens with my beau and my friends. It's chilly, and it's quiet. Mary Beth just called and offered to bring me a delicious plate of food from her family's Christmas dinner. Sounds wonderful, as I've had just a teensy bit of food since my lunch earlier today. I'm going to take my new camera and the handy-dandy portable Scrabble game down to Flicker to visit the bartender boyf til he gets off work at midnight. Maybe we'll see Santa flying through the skies!!

It's certainly a nontraditional Christmas for me. Stranger than the year Julie and I were on a cruise with our parents? P'raps. That was 9 years ago. Or 10!! I'm old.
Guess it's time to bust all out on my own, right, y'all?

Flight of the Conchords--watch it!

Today's Paste email announced that Flight of the Conchords (do I italicize that? I guess not since we're talking specifically of the performing duo here and not their TV show) are going to release a full-length album!

My mom had Jim and me watch Flight of the Conchords over Thanksgiving. This was after it came highly recommended from a few friends, including the ever-zealous "F'n Jimmy," who promised Nancy and me that we would love it, especially since she and I tend to sing about what's going on at any given time. Well, I saw a couple episodes of my mom's season 1 DVD and I can verify this: the show is amazing. Hilarious. Original. So funny. Watch it.

I just went to youtube.com and found a clip of them performing "Business Time" on stage in front of a live audience. It's still very funny, but I really do prefer seeing the duo perform within the auspices of their television show. They definitely have the means to up the ante there and make things more ridiculous, silly, and clever. All the same, it's worth a watch if you've never seen any of Flight of the Conchords and want a dose of their humor.

Next stop: Vision Video, Amazon.com, or wherever you go to acquire DVDs! Get to it!
xo-
Janet

tipping the babysitter...?

So one of the top stories on Google News talks about holiday tipping. And babysitters are mentioned as one of the people in one's life who should be tipped. Now I have been babysitting for years and have never received a holiday tip. I'm not complaining, just noting.

In New York, I was what a family called the "alpha babysitter," or the main babysitter. I watched an adorable and hilarious four-year-old boy four nights a week in his rather upscale Gramercy Park home. Now that's a family you'd expect a holiday tip from, eh? But no. No tip.

Before that NYC job, I babysat a lot but never regularly enough to be the recipient of a tippy tip tip. Nowadays I am the regular babysitter for a couple of families (I share this duty with Kelli M.!) but didn't get any holiday tippage last year; I don't expect it this year. That being said, I won't be disappointed not to receive it.

It's almost strange to me to see that people are supposed to tip the folks that help them out throughout the year even more over the holidays. Does anyone else do this? I am already so overwhelmed with needing to get presents for my family and the boyf--I can't go spending money on my elevator operator and parking lot attendant.

Anywho. Mainly I wanted to know if anyone else out there gave holiday tips to his or her hairdresser, handyman, or pet groomer. It seems such an adult thing to do. Surely I can be excused since I only have a part-time job and little to no cash. Tee hee.

new & old fun things of the day

My new iBook battery arrived today. $113 brought me happiness and a blissful relationship with my baby computer once again. The old battery died what I now know to be a predictable death after 18 months or so of working like crazy to keep my computer on almost constantly. (I never turn my computer off. Apparently that's a bad habit.) I charged the new girl up and it's been running for nearly three hours so far--over two to go 'til it conks out. Worth the investment, I tell you. I'll take a more expensive Mac with the more expensive, long-life batteries over the quick-to-decharge Windows-based laptops any day. At least the laptops I had, for they never lasted longer than 45 minutes or so before needing to be plugged in.

In other news, I rediscovered my online persona here today. I think this evening marked the third time I stumbled across my internet self on 43things.com. Interesting to see my goals outlined like that. (Check it out if you remain clueless--it's kind of cool, but only if you can maintain 44,123 personalized websites at once. I obviously cannot.) After months of not logging in, it was rather satisfying to click the "I've done this!" icon next to a couple of my goals. It seems I'd not logged on since my trip to Europe--before that trip, I must have added "travel to Europe" to my list of goals.

Anywho.

I'm also going to buy a replacement battery for my iPod mini. Most folks would get a new iPod for tons of money. Not I, said the cat. I have friends like F'n Jimmy who let me know about replacement batteries that are cheap and can be replaced by yours truly or by Jimmy himself, who likes to tinker with electronics. I love you, Mac, but if I can spend less than $20 getting a replacement battery kit on ebay, I'm going with that instead of a $200 iPod. Yip dee do, working iPod, here I come!

Time to finish up packing. Jim and I head to Florida tomorrow. We must leave bright and early to make sure we arrive in time for the IRCC happy hour. Entertainingly drunk old folks, here we come!!!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

past lives

Sometimes the other places I've lived, the things I did, the jobs I held--they all seem so far away and unreal. Tonight I'm thinking of the Pittsburgh chapter of my life, in particular.

Those of you who've ever heard me mention my love of Pittsburgh know how deep and abiding that love goes. I think--nay, know--it's an amazing, gorgeous, magical place, one that is slowly being discovered to be what it really is: not the dirtier, industrial city of the past but a vibrant, young, and cultural center of today, mixed with lots of elements of the past that give it a strange and welcoming (to me, at least) flavor. I love it some much there.

Tonight I was at a birthday party, talking to a really nice girl who lives in New York. Usually my former NYC life is the one that strikes me as long ago and confusing--can it be that I really lived there for four years, taking subways and taxis and walking the streets as if they were my own? (I'll stop there, for I'm trying to focus on Pittsburgh right now.) I mentioned to her the time the Daiai Lama jaywalked in front of my car near Pitt in Pittsburgh's pretty Oakland neighborhood as I was trying to make my way to my grandparents' apartment. (If you've not heard this story, please ask me to tell it. I like to tell it.)

Four years and a week or two ago is when I got my job at The Coffee Tree Roasters in Squirrel Hill. Not long after getting the job, the weather got much colder than I ever remembered New York being. It was frequently snowy and icy outside, and I had to drive to work in the morning to open the store at 5:30. Could it be that I really did that several days a week? It seem so unlikely now.

This evening I got home from downtown around midnight. After the aforementioned birthday party, I headed to the Max Canada to meet up with my friend Laurie, whom I've known since birth. (Well, her birth, not mine, as I began my life a few months before she began hers.) She and her husband were in town for the game. Jim was working, and Denise and Daniel were at the bar, too, so that was a pleasant surprise--all these people I loved from various stages in my life, all in one place. I loved it. While taking to Laurie, Pittsburgh came up again.

So it was a little after midnight that I clicked on the Firefox icon and decided to check email and such. No reason, as I'm sure reading a book would be much more pleasurable right now. But I found myself looking at the pages of people I worked with when I lived in Pittsburgh, friends of mine from the coffee shop that I started relationships with that never got to go very far because I moved the February after I started the job. (I will mention that one guy and I still keep in touch sporadically and I hung out with him this summer--Jim's friend's fiancee is a friend of his, too, oddly enough, so we all had a fun get-together at a hole-in-the-wall ping pong bar.)

My GHP crew came to visit me when I lived in Pittsburgh, and of course my relatives were there since they live in the suburbs. But no one in Athens has any real reference point for my life in Pittsburgh. I don't mention the good ol' times too often (apart from talking too much about bowling at Arsenal Lanes in Lawrenceville--college night meant 50-cent games and 50-cent drafts!) and don't talk to my old friends from the 'Burgh other than the darling Sarah Beth Shapiro, who's sort of transcended the Pittsburgh category by now since we've hung out in other states.

Anywho. I miss Pittsburgh. I think I could move back. I don't know if I will, but I could. My life there was somewhat solitary, definitely cold and icy, and full of fun acquaintances and lots of family gatherings. I really miss it sometimes, especially as I bundle up in ol' puffers, my burgundy winter coat, and get ready to go into temperatures that are about 40 degrees warmer than my average Pittsburgh morning.

I CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU!!!

I feel racist every time I'm on the phone with a costumer service person for almost any airline or online travel company. I ask questions and cannot understand the answers I'm given. My muscles tense up, I lean forward, I squint. I feel myself trying to focus all my energy on my phone ear. What is he saying? What is this man named Nick* or Sam* saying to me? Am I unforgivably rude if I ask him to repeat himself for a fourth time?

Right now I'm on hold with Travelocity.com, attempting to change a flight for my dad. He's famous for misunderstanding anyone with even the slightest accent and finds being on hold intolerable. No wonder he asked me to do this for him.


*obvious pseudonym

Mission: Space

I was just watching a show on PBS about space exploration. I tuned in during a synopsis on the Apollo 13 mission and, as always, got nervous as the astronauts in space and scientists on the ground had to figure out a way to get the men safely home despite a huge hole in the spacecraft, a defunct second oxygen tank, and a possibly malfunctioning heat panel. And when they landed with success in the water? Of course my vision went blurry with tears. Space exploration always gets to me.

After some unknown force guided my hand to ABC's supposedly addictive Dancing With the Stars, a show I found to be intolerable for more than two minutes, I flipped back to ol' trusty PBS, right in time to see the Challenger explode. It's funny--when I think back to the Challenger disaster, I remember being in Miss Johnson's class. I seem to recall learning about it then. I knew for sure it was in 1986, but this Wikipedia article confirms that it was in January of '86 and not after my first grade school year with Miss Johnson would've started in August. Funny how the mind convinces you of these things.

When I was younger, I remember feeling especially saddened about the death of Christa McAuliffe (back row, second from left), the teacher who was to be sent up in space along with the all-astronaut Challenger crew. In reading about her now, I understand that my sympathy was somewhat constructed by NASA and the media--one of the goals of her presence and of the Teachers in Space program was (and is) to generate more public attention for the space program. Well, it worked for me. Any time photographs of the deceased astronauts was in the paper or on television, my eyes would drift straight to hers. She had a daughter my age, and she was a teacher. A teacher. And everyday person.

Now when I look at the photo of the seemingly energetic and ecstatic crew, it's Ron McNair's face that gets my attention. He's the one in the front row, sitting on the far right. He just looks so eager and ready. I just know he was the nicest guy, quick with a joke or to light up your smoke. I get the feeling--the altogether faulty one, I'm sure--that this photograph was taken minutes before they boarded the shuttle, ready to face the final frontier.

I can't imagine what it must have been like to be in sight of the Challenger when it took off, let alone to know someone on board as we stood and watched it leave from its port. Seventy-three seconds between blast-off and explosion. Imagine the noise--the machinery, the rumbling, the vibrations, the crowd, the running.


My parents can see and hear shuttle takeoffs from their house in Melbourne, FL. Cape Canaveral is just 10-20 miles away. Oh, why do I shy away from exact mileage here? My parents tell me the exact distance frequently. It's 17 miles away. At least I think so.
The first time I went to their house after they relocated to Florida, I was up in the middle of the night. I started sensing a rumbling in the tiles under my feet, the keys under my fingertips as I typed late-night emails to my friends. What was that? I checked the dryer; I felt the dishwasher to see if it was running. I pressed my palm against the warm glass of the window. The window was vibrating, ever so gently and rapidly. Nervously, I stepped outside the front door and onto the driveway that was brand-new to me. The vibrations and rumbling were much louder out here and getting more intense by the second. Everywhere, sound. Nothing was visibly shaking, but there was an energy to the thick, humid air. I was shocked to see that my parents, their neighbors, the cops! weren't outside on the streets, curious and demanding to see what the ruckus was about. An earthquake in Florida? Doubtful, plus it was going on for too long...right?

A few minutes passed, and the sound began to subside. I crept back into the house, where things were suddenly serene and eerily quiet.

The next morning, I mentioned the strange incident to my mom--the light of day made the whole thing less alien-invader-like but I was still discombobulated. "Oh," she remarked lightly. "I told you--we're right near Cape Canaveral. There are shuttle take-offs in the middle of the night sometimes....it's really loud." With that, she left the kitchen.