The Dictionary, Quirks, and Skipping for No Reason

I have just returned from a quest through the dictionary to define a quirk. I know the definition of a quirk. In fact, I am endeared to people for their quirks. I am simply in search of a way to explain quirks that adequately conveys how I feel about them. The fruits of my labor are as follows:

Quirk – A peculiarity
My first thoughts were of the negative stereotype that accompanies the root word peculiar. As in odd, strange, and creepy even. How wrong this stereotype is.

Peculiar – Of only one person; special; not general
General is what is expected. I am not impressed with the general world today. People are rude. People are fake. People are stupid. I am attracted to those that are not general. Not until thinking about it did I realize thoughtfulness, sincerity, and common sense are peculiarities. I appreciate each of these traits in someone, they set that person apart. Quirks are of only one person; each individual has their own. Quirks are a fearless expression of self. I find genuineness admirable. It is refreshing to experience someone childish and ridiculous. Silliness should not be looked down on. So what if someone skips around everywhere for no reason, adds animated hand gestures to everything they say, or is way too hard on their self. Quirks are special in that they make someone the person they are.

Special – Eeceptional; highly valued
I highly value people who are quirky and peculiar. The world could definitely stand to learn something from them. Thoughtful gestures aren’t exactly something you encounter too much these days. I think that’s sad. If you can’t smile at a stranger or reach out and touch someone you care about, you definitely need to slow down and learn that’s it the small stuff that matters. Someone surprising you with something small that you’ll love means so much, I think. A picture they’ve colored, a cheap something that holds personal meaning, or a simple handwritten note that makes you laugh. An unexpected, inexpensive gift means more than an expensive gift purchased for a certain holiday or occasion.

Most people that I consider my closest friends are everything I have described above. They are exceptional. Their quirks are my favorite. I don’t “put up” with them. I love and accept them for everything they are. And they do the same for me.

Earth

Honestly, I don’t normally go out of my way to be green. I don’t recycle. I don’t use fluorescent light bulbs. I definitely just use the plastic grocery bags provided at the store and don’t plan on riding my bike anywhere as long as I have a functioning vehicle. I believe it is of the utmost importance to take care of our Earth, yet my actions do not match that belief. I am not proud to say that, yet I am not afraid to either. I don’t feel I do anything overly harmful to our planet, but I would like to change to become more conscientious of the impact I have on the world I live in. I would like to be more “green.” There is such a variation in attitudes concerning this subject and I think it’s about time everyone moved to the same page. And even though I am not some crazed environmentalist that constantly frets over the state of the world’s ecosystem, I am a concerned citizen.

This blog entry is prompted by the recent oil spill off the Gulf of Mexico. I am legitimately saddened by this ongoing situation. Not only that, but I am disappointed in the way all of the companies and officials involved didn’t care enough to prepare and have reacted to such an occurrence. I was reading the paper one morning last week, specifically an article about the oil spill. This article stated that two years ago there was a change in the contract for the oil companies which did not require them to have a plan of action in case of an emergency exactly like the one that continues to unfold today. I think that’s ridiculous. Who would ever think it was okay to not have a plan for a catastrophe of such magnitude? It’s just stupid to assume something like this would never happen, as unlikely as it may have seemed. Because it’s not like we’re talking about a little accident that can be cleaned up and forgotten here. An entire ocean is being affected. Over two hundred thousand gallons of crude oil is being released each day, and it’s been weeks since this began. Various attempts to stop the leak have failed. Were there not signs of an impending problem this serious and no one bothered to report them? If so, that’s shameful.

The impacts of this explosion are tragic and could have possibly been avoided. The ocean is not just some insignificant body of water. Incredible amounts of species call the ocean and its’ surrounding area home. It is our responsibility to preserve the home of these species and we have failed. Sea animals and sea life are struggling and dying because some of us are too ignorant to realize our dependence on their home. Thousands of humans, including fisherman, rely on the ocean for their livelihood. The entire gulf coast relies on the ocean because of tourism and the amount of money that puts into their local economy. Businesses and restaurants from everywhere depend on the sea food imported to them from the affected area. A delicate balance has been upset. If we do not treat our resources with the respect they deserve, they do not provide for us.

I think this incident is a huge eye opener for oil companies and regular citizens alike. Our Earth is not just something to be used for our own benefit. There are consequences to our actions. Resources are available to provide for the inhabitants of the world, not to be taken advantage of as dispensable and not deserving of care. This is the only home we’ve got. And it is necessary that we make it last. Incidents like this one cannot keep happening if we hope to make that statement come true. We have to take care of our precious planet. So, starting small or starting big, it doesn’t really matter. It just matters that we all start.

Beards, Intelligence, and Lady Gaga

Let me throw out a hypothetical situation here. Say we’re on the bypass. I’m in my car. You’re in your car. We’re cruisin’ along. Guess what? I CAN SEE YOU. It has come to my attention that most of the driving population is under the impression that their vehicle functions as a sort of invisibility cloak. How wrong the driving population is. There are just some activities not meant to be performed behind the wheel. I’ve decided to compile a list of these said activities, all of which I have personally witnessed, written as a shout out to the driving population.

We Can Still See You (By We, I Mean Intelligent People, Who Realize That Windows Are Transparent)

1. Beard Trimming
Once upon a time I saw a man shaving his face in his rearview mirror. Your eyes should be focused on the road in front of you, not the hairs of your chinny chin chin.

2. Reading
If you are interested in expanding your knowledge of literature, increasing the amount of time you spend reading for leisure, or catching up on the latest addition to your book club, the place to do that is home. You’ve heard don’t drink and drive. It’s sad you need to be told not to read and drive as well. Gee people.

3. Picking Your Nose
First, nose picking is unacceptable. I don’t care who you are or where you are. Not. Acceptable. Second, no one wants to see you going to town picking the day away as they drive past you. Seriously. This just drives me up a wall and out a window. Is that not embarrassing? Because it’s gross. YUCKY.

4. Applying Eyeliner
Alright. I don’t know if this is just me, but driving + applying eyeliner = possible emergency room visit if you ask me. All I envision is some abrupt braking resulting in some major eye pain. Eyeliner is meant to be worn around your eye, not impaled halfway through it.

5. Singing and Such
Belting out the lyrics to the latest Lady Gaga song at maximum volume while flailing your arms and shaking your head to the beat like there’s no tomorrow just isn’t cute. There’s this little thing called control. You should look into it.

6. Kissing
There’s such a thing as quick little kiss, which is totally fine in most situations. And then there’s the kissing I happen to referencing right now. I won’t go into details. But. A stoplight is definitely not the place. And all I have to say about that is no. Just, no.

My Week Was Average

A few friends and I have a habit of adding an alliterative adjective to each day of the week in accordance with our mood and/or recent happenings. Here is how this past week turned out.

Monotone Monday
The genera l feel of the day was very monotonous. First, we were all fighting the effects of the recent time change. Losing an hour of sleep isn’t exactly a walk through the park for already sleep deprived teenagers. Just sayin’. Second, Monday is typically a day to mourn the death of the weekend; therefore, no one’s favorite. It wasn’t a terrible day, just not anything to write home about.

Tuesday – Wednesday
Tuesday and Wednesday, unfortunately, went unnamed this week. They just didn’t have the characteristics of a day deserving of a special title. Overall, both days were uneventful and oddly less than average. I forgot to wear green on St. Patrick’s Day and got pinched a lot. And that’s about it.

Thirsty Thursday/Throwin’ Punches Thursday
I realize Thirsty Thursday is normally associated with alcohol, but in this case it is not. Each Thursday of every week one person is responsible for bringing a Dr. Pepper for everyone. First, Dr. Pepper is the greatest drink ever created. Second, a little bit o’ caffeine in the morning is always a greatly anticipated boost. Let me explain Throwin’ Punches Thursday. I’m not promoting violence here or anything, because I’m not actually suggesting you throw punches. This is just a day to recognize all of the people in your life that need and/or deserve a punch. Like rude and pathetic people who think everything is a competition, when it definitely isn’t. But I’m not even going there.

No Pants Friday
I know, I know. No Pants Friday isn’t alliterative, but that’s alright. It’s a weekly tradition in which everyone doesn’t…wear…pants. Obviously. Girls break out their dresses and skirts while boys wear shorts. Or kilts, if Mr. Mason didn’t frown upon that kind of thing. I didn’t participate this week. Oops.


Shopping Is Stupid Saturday
Weekends aren’t usually included in our day naming process, so this one describes my Saturday only. I’m not a big fan of shopping to begin with. Perusing endless racks and exerting the effort to try on a bunch of clothes I might not buy just isn’t fun for me. Apply this to prom dresses and the excruciating level rises, like, seven points. Guys have it unfairly easy. I’m incredibly jealous that I can’t just go out and get me a tux and be done. Seriously.

Sacred Sunday/Strenuous Sunday
I start off each Sunday by going to church. After activities concerning that are finished I spend the rest of the day finishing all of the homework I have put off until the last possible moment. If it were nice like it has been instead of yucky and raining I would play outside, but it is yucky and raining and the weather isn’t exactly something I control. So I just have to deal. Yay homework.

Insert Witty and Captivating Title Here

Stuff Other People Said and Why I Like It:

This is my life. It is my one time to be me.
Maya Angelou

This is probably one of my favorite quotes of all time. It’s simple, but with big meaning. I’m a no worries kind of gal. I am not a fan of restrictions or conformity. And I don’t mean that in your stupid, rebellious teenager sense. That would be really lame and cliché of me to say. For example, all of the recent hubbub about the future and the rest of our lives and whatnot. I am very interested in psychology and plan on getting my doctorate degree. I would like to work with children and adolescents. I do not want to attend school or live in Owensboro. I do want to get married, but do not want children of my own. And that’s a basic outline of the rest of my life so far.

I’m not going to sit here and say I’m going to this certain college and live in this certain city and get married at this age and have this number of children. I just feel like that would be silly. I’m more of a go with the flow person. Not that I’m not driven and just going to follow my every whim, because that would be silly as well. I am quite excited for the rest of my life and passionate about what I want to do. But my belief is that you’ve just got to let life take you where you’re supposed to go, as long as you know it’s in the right general direction. Experiences change you and your path. If you’ve had your life planned out since day one of freshman year in high school, that’s kind of a problem. Because instead of adapting your path to who you are, you’re conforming to some pre-set life you’re not supposed to live. That’s wrong.

You’re only given one life; you might as well spend it happy. And a happy life is an imperfect life. Perfect isn’t my thing. Why exert yourself aiming for something that doesn’t exist? If everything is perfect, everything is expected. You’re content, always where you want to be. B-O-R-I-N-G. As bizarre as this may be, I kind of like chaos. Not the wild, out of control kind but the surprising, exhilarating kind that allows you everything life has to offer. I want to cry, laugh, and scream. I want to feel anger, uncertainty, fear, and fearlessness. I want to have to fight for what I believe and work for my dreams. I want the unexpected. I want something to look forward to and something to look back on. I want to make mistakes. I want to make my own way, without anyone telling me I can or can’t, should or shouldn’t. I want to know I did what I wanted and what I thought was right, not what anyone else wanted or thought. I want my life to be mine.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to be some freakish loner focused on making my life my own. That would totally contradict my whole philosophy. I think that the people in your life make the person you are and therefore the life you live. I am undoubtedly who I am because of everyone I’ve ever known. We are all individuals because we are tiny pieces of each and every person that’s ever passed through or stayed in our lives. And all of those people are made up of every person they’ve ever known. It’s a never ending cycle and it’s incredible. I love every single person in my life. I love every single person I’ve ever lost or just lost touch with. People change. Friends change. It happens. And even if it hurt, even if it was messy, their impact on who I am is still the same.

Bret Michaels, Herpes, and the Vatican City

I am not ashamed to admit that I am one of those people that, if you happen to only catch a snippet of any of my conversations, you’re probably not going to know what in the name of all things normal is going on. Here is a window into my most recent ridiculous conversations and discussions, including quotations and things of that nature. Hey! I’ll even put them in list form since I’ve been slacking in my promise to provide those.

My Life in Conversations and Such: Part One (Because These Conversations Are Going To Keep Happening)

1. “Nothing beats a sad Bon Jovi song on a Saturday night.” My sister said this, and a discussion of Bret Michaels ensued. Yes. You heard me. Bret Michaels. Together, our thought processes just aren’t logical. So please don’t bother asking how a discussion of Bret Michaels spurned from a sad Bon Jovi song on Saturday night.

2. “How HIP is HERPES?” Before you let your mind run rampant with this statement, let me explain. A friend of mine was in possession of a STD informational brochure in which alliteration was displayed at its’ finest. And by finest, I mean worst. Other examples: How GREAT is GONNORHEA? How AWESOME is AIDS? Yep. Told you.

3. “If you could glow in the dark, which color would you want to glow?” Argument follows in which nuclear waste green and electric blue are debated. Let’s just say it is REALLY easy to get distracted in Earth and Space.

4. Just imagine two high school students narrating March of the Penguins spur of the moment. As in the documentary on penguin mating habits or whatever. That was mildly entertaining.

5. “So…do you think we would get excommunicated from the Catholic church if we toilet papered the Vatican City with toilet paper printed with the 95 Theses on it?” These are the questions that haunt my mind.

6. A conversation in which the Worst Torture Ever was decided: Administering hundreds of paper cuts all over someone’s body, spraying them down with a hose, and then dropping them into a huge vat of salt. Ah, lunchtime conversation.

Dear Abby, Disrespect, and the High School Male Population

I was perusing the newspaper a few days ago and smiled as I came across the Dear Abby section. What humor could I find in the questions, complaints, and woes of my fellow subscribers today? The topic of one of the letters I found can only be suitably described in one word: PREPOSTEROUS. A woman had written in bashing men who open doors for women. She stated that when a man opens a door for her it makes her feel inferior because she is perfectly capable of opening doors for herself. I don’t know; I just don’t understand. Chivalry might be a dying art, but it sure isn’t dead. Why would you want it to be?

First, I would like to shout out to all of the friendly strangers out there and say THANKYOU. The world could definitely use more of you. Last Thursday, I was not in the jolliest of moods. During second block I was walking up the drama hallway on my way to the little girl’s room. Other than myself, there was only one other person in the hallway, walking towards me in the opposite direction. I don’t know who he was. He was one of those few people you see in the hall that you’ve never seen before. Anyway. As we got closer to one another, he smiled and simply said, “Hello. How are you?” I replied with a genuine smile saying that I was fine and asked him how he was. He stated that he was good. All of this was said without either of us stopping or even slowing down. This seemingly insignificant gesture impacted me profoundly. I felt noticeably better before I even exited the hallway.

I’m just saying, gentlemen aren’t exactly something you run into frequently these days. I find this fact disheartening, apparently a minority belief. Too many young girls accept less than respectful behavior and attitudes from guys. Seriously. What is that all about? Yes, we do live in a society in which men and women are more equal than previous generations. Maybe it is old fashioned, but I think guys should still be expected to be chivalrous toward women. I am a capable and independent person, but I think women and girls need to hold guys to a higher standard. I find manners and courtesy quite admirable. I happen to be in acquaintance with a few fine young men myself. The other day, I was walking down the hallway with two guys I know. Reaching a pair of double doors that were propped open, both of them stopped to let me walk through first. This may seem like a small gesture but it made me smile and it’s nice to know there are exceptions to the high school male population, no matter how few.

Scooter

I feel like I should probably share my favorite commercial. ARE YOU EXCITED?! ARE YOU READY?! Here it is.



I really don't even watch that much television, but personally, I consider this television gold. It's just funny. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Love and Stuff

It’s Valentine’s Day. Here’s what I have to say.

Cruel and Heartless Me Says:

You should probably reevaluate your life if your valentine is the life sized cardboard cutout of Edward Cullen/Robert Pattinson that you wake up and kiss every morning. VAMPIRES AREN’T REAL. Unfortunately, you’re just going to have to settle for a mortal boyfriend like the rest of the population.

I don’t do sappy and overly cliche. I’m just not that girl. I don’t want to see Dear John, I don’t like Nicholas Sparks novels, and if a man ever proposes to me on Valentine’s Day I think I’ll vomit.

Those candy message hearts taste disgusting. Still, I feel like it would be great fun personalizing a hate bag and sending them to someone just for laughs.

I think it’s ridiculous that stores put out their Valentine’s Day merchandise, like, the day after Christmas. Two months in advance is a little excessive if you ask me. I also find the Valentine’s season commercials and advertisements for condoms and adult novelty items a teensy disturbing. I don’t know; that’s just me.

PDA, past a very determined point, is just plain yucky. Seriously, some couples have no discretion. Come on people, have some class.

Not So Cruel and Heartless Me Says:

As lame as this may be, I am a huge fan of oversized stuffed animals. There’s just something about large furry masses of animal that bring out the huggy side of me. Surprises are my favorite and I also enjoy flowers. I think they’re nice.

At seventeen, I still give out valentines I’ve handmade (store bought valentines would be fantastically unacceptable). They’re nothing fancy and I don’t make a massive amount of them. They’re usually just a funny little note to let people know I was thinking about them and that they make my days better.

Despite the fact I have no significant other this February 14, I am not a bitter and miserable Valentine’s Day dreading love hater. That would be utterly unjustifiable and pathetic. I love and am so grateful for everyone in my life. Valentine’s Day isn’t just about romantic love.

Insomnia, Oprah, and Red Paint

The inspiration for my topic comes from my current state of not being able to sleep. It is approximately midnight and I’ve been in bed for about an hour and a half. I realized about three minutes ago I could use this time to be productive and the product of that thought is this blog entry.

Unfortunately, tonight’s insomnia is not a special occurrence. On average, I have insomnia about three or four nights a week, sometimes more. Even when I do sleep, I don’t sleep very well. Not to say I don’t ever sleep; there are weekends I’m in bed at nine and asleep until eleven the next morning. Not to mention, there are always naps, which happen to be my favorite form of sleep. I find them more refreshing then a night’s sleep and often nap for a couple of hours after school if I don’t have too much to do and there isn’t a can’t miss Oprah episode on.

Normally, I do not spend my extra awake hours productively. I just lie in my bed and think and stare at my wall. I am not a counting sheep kind of person. In my experience with that, the sheep quickly become angry with me and refuse to jump the fence because it takes me so long to fall asleep and they’re tired and ready for bed themselves. I am also not a sleeping pills kind of person. Therefore, I’ve come up with a more fun and creative way to pass the time.

In my mind, I imagine a room. The walls of the room are white with no windows. Inside the room is myself, multiple gallons of red paint, brushes of various sizes along with other painting materials, and a ladder. With all of this, I simply paint the room. How I paint the room usually depends on my mood. Some nights I finger paint and create designs and doodles all over the walls. There are nights I paint the walls solidly. I’ll use a tiny watercolor paintbrush if I think it’s going to be a while before I fall asleep. Other nights I just use a regular paintbrush or roller. I’ve also used a sponge and one of those spray nozzles you see on TV just to mix things up. On occasion I will lift the entire gallon of paint and splatter the wall with it, which is always a treat. Honestly, I don’t prefer a certain method over any of the others, I enjoy them all.

Ever since I started doing this I don’t know how many years ago, the paint has been red. I’m not sure why, it just is. It happens. I guess I’m going to try and actually sleep now though. I feel like I’ve exhausted my ramblings on insomnia for one night. You should try my room painting sometime though. Let me know how it goes. Goodnight. :)

Lists

Preface:

I am a huge fan of lists. For almost two years now I’ve been keeping a journal of my life and most of the entries are in list form. It helps to organize my thoughts, which are constantly all over the place. My favorite lists, hands down, are the ones I write for other people though. That’s why I’ve decided to write my blogs in list form from now on, starting today. Enjoy!

I Am Surrounded By Stupid (Simple Concepts No One Seems Able To Grasp)

1. Food goes in the grey trash cans and styrofoam goes in the white trash cans.
Everyday there are kids crowding and hovering over the trash cans in lunch with blank expressions on their faces wondering what to do with their plates, causing my hope to falter in future generations.

2. Walk on the right side of hallways and through the right side of doorways.
Why is this not common knowledge? I know that I am plowed down by people ALL THE TIME because they’re bumbling around on the left side of the hall or rushing through the wrong side of a door.

3. Nobody likes a pack of locker lingerers. People want to hit locker lingerers.
It would be nice if someone could explain to me why massive congregations of people chill in front of lockers that aren’t theirs. Of course, it wouldn’t be so bad if they all didn’t sneer at you when you ask them to move because they’re in front of your locker.

4. There is a difference between expressing yourself and making yourself a public spectacle.
How you dress is your choice and I’m all for self expression and not caring what other people think or like. I feel like there is a line between self expression and public spectacle though and neon colored jeans that are two sizes two small, an etch-a-sketch hanging from your lanyard, and bracelets literally up to your elbow cross that line.

5. Huggin’ it out in the halls is seriously unnecessary.
We’ve all encountered those girls that upon seeing each other across the hall begin to squeal, flail their arms, and barrel their way through everyone to meet in the middle of the hall. Once there, disrupting hallway traffic flow all the while, they commence to huggin’ it out for minutes at a time. “OH MY GOOD GOLLY GOSH, I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU SINCE A WHOLE BLOCK AGO!”

Hakuna Matata

It means no worries for the rest of your days, it’s a carefree philosophy. Two very different incidents happened on my Friday night that have provoked much thought about this phrase and it’s meaning.

The first occurred at Olive Garden. My date and I (fine, fine, it was my Mom) were chatting and eating, your basic dinner out. About midway through our meal, I noticed rather animated gesturing coming from a table in front of ours, a little to the right, out of the corner of my eye. Seated there was an older couple, I’m guessing in their seventies. The old man grinned widely at me. A lemon wedge covered his teeth, a crazed expression covered his face, and he continued to gesture erratically in my direction. Him and his wife were in hysterics, giggling silently to themselves. At first I just stared, appalled at his behavior. After a few seconds of initial shock I tentatively smile at him, reducing them into another fit of silent laughter. Removing the lemon, both rise, still smiling as they turn to leave. I honestly haven’t seen two people laugh like that in a very long time. As I think back on that couple now, I realize that is the kind of person I want to be; the kind of person that this world could use more of. He obviously wasn’t concerned with what anyone around him was thinking and his wife was in no way embarrassed by his actions. Happiness radiated from their gleaming eyes and wrinkled smiles. There’s a lot to be taken from that, I think. Happiness is about being who you are. It’s about being silly and spontaneous and surrounding yourself with people who love you for that.

Now to the second incident. After dinner, we were at JC Penney. A sudden noise from the back section of the parking lot stops us before we can walk through the doors. Two boys, looking to be in their teens, were the source of this noise. One was singing a very slurred rendition of Hakuna Matata into a megaphone and the other seemed to be banging his head onto the hood of a car repeatedly. They were still there when we left the mall. Now, I’m not saying illegal substances were or weren’t involved in this little show because I don’t know. Either way, really? That’s how you’re choosing to spend your Friday night? Yes, it was entertaining and it will probably be an interesting story to tell, but that’s about the extent of it.

Basically, the connection between these two happenings I see is this: Time is precious. Waste it wisely.

Once Upon A Spaghetti Dinner

Expect the unexpected is the only advice I have if you plan on eating a meal with myself and my family. Actually, scratch that. Expect the unexpected in every moment that involves my family. I’ve always thought we should invest in a reality show, here’s a little insight into why I think that. I feel like you’ll probably agree by the time this little story is finished.

First, my Mother, despite the fantastic cook she is, greatly overestimates how much spaghetti five people are able to consume, boiling enough noodles to feed roughly the entire street. After we have fixed our plates, are seated, and the mountain of noodles has been reduced to a slightly smaller mountain of noodles, that’s when the real excitement begins. My youngest sister, aged eight, rambles about A.R. tests, Jacob B. eating glue for a mid-morning snack, cap erasers in the shape of zoo animals, and other earth shattering topics. At least, earth shattering to a third grade mindset. My other sister Hannah, aged thirteen, in the midst of our dinner time conversations, suddenly erupts with disgust.

“YOU ARE DISGUSTING! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU JUST DID THAT! MOM! DID YOU SEE THAT?! DO SOMETHING!” This statement is directed at Lydia who just momentarily touched her plain spaghetti with her hands. Not smeared it into her face and down her shirt with force, merely touched it. My Mother calmly tells Hannah, who mistakenly believes she is designated disciplinarian of the house, to calm down and get off Lydia’s case. Hannah snorts in disagreement simultaneously examining Lydia as if she were a foreign and grotesque specimen. Ah, thirteen year old attitude, so pleasant. At this point my Dad, whose main focus when seated at the table is eating, hasn’t said much. He nods in agreement with my Mother and every so often asks for the salt and pepper. A man of few words, I can appreciate that.

Moving on though, less than five minutes after the noodle touching incident, my Mother throws her hands up in the air. “OH NO. EVERYBODY STOP.” I am startled at the sudden exclamation from my left. The scrape of my fork on my plate echoes in the now silent kitchen as we await the announcement of my Mom’s apparent light bulb moment. “Did anyone see that?” Still a little uncertain of what’s really going on; I glance around and shake my head - I’m pretty sure everyone else does the same. “Hannah just licked her plate.” Hannah immediately raises her voice to protest despite the fact my Mom just personally witnessed her in the act of licking her plate. Might I remind you, this is the same girl that minutes earlier condemned Lydia for simply touching her plain spaghetti. Several times she argues to try and defend herself, which ultimately fails, and that’s all I’m going to say about that.

My role in this dinnertime fiasco has been a small one. I mainly observe, ignore, throw in my two cents, mumble sarcastic comments under my breath, contemplate sliding under the table and out of the room, or a combination of all the mentioned. Now, don’t get me wrong. Yes, Hannah would argue with a dead raccoon on the highway via the car window, Lydia does not realize constant chatter is unfavorable, and my Mom finds humor in the strangest of places but I find my family highly amusing and despite their endless quirks, I guess I kind of like them. This event is only the tip of the iceberg, per say, one of a million meals we have shared and will share, as we eat together every night. Some days it makes me laugh and some days it makes me wonder if I am adopted. Either way, it’s always an adventure.