Another Cop Story

Prologue: Cleaning up took me ages tonight. I had several customers knocking on the window, wanting to ask me questions, and my boss called, wanting to know what he wrote on his grocery list, and then I called him to ask if I should clean the grinder. My boss also wants the floor cleaned real well. I feel really bad taking so long to clean up, but part of the reason was because my blood sugar started to crash and I just can’t move as fast when that starts to happen.

Real story: I was fighting with the mop bucket and out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone coming into our little, deserted parking lot. Two men, muscular, wearing all black. There’s no one else around.

I think Crap! Who am I going to have to scream off? and then I see the little gold accessories and the radios.

“Did you call us?” a brown-haired officer hollered to me.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Okay…What’s your address?”

I told him, and he nodded to the bald officer behind him. One went ahead and the other backtracked.

So there I am, wearing my shirt that reads DETECTIVE (Chicago Police Department logo) WE’LL SOLVE NO CRIME ‘TIL OVERTIME.

Then, I realize that there are apartments above the shop. I’ve only ever seen people going into them two or three times since last summer, but I thought it possible that someone from there could have called 911. The brown-haired officer reappeared, I called out my suggestion.

“Nah, it’s okay. We got it,” he said.

That was when I heard someone yelling from the alley. As much as I wanted to drop the mop bucket and run down the parking lot to see if someone was getting tased, an uneasy thought entered my brain. Hey, it said, you’re by yourself and someone nearby just called 911. Stop thinking about the fun that could be just around the corner, and concentrate on getting cleaned up and going home.

So I did. By the time I walked my bike across the alley, there was no sign of cops, victims, and the accused. I was sad. (LOL)

But now I really want to watch COPS. Maybe someday, my mad cooking skillz will get me into a police department. I can brew cofffee, too.

How Ratatouille Got Started

Breakfast:

A partially-scrambled egg with carrot, green pepper, brocolli and corn wrapped in a tortilla with a half slice of cheese.

Lunch:

(No pic, saahhry)

Fresh deli ham, provolone cheese, pesto sauce and spinache on Italian bread, and grilled on a panini grill.

Dinner:

Fresh lettuce, bacon, tomato, a little mayo on a hamburger bun.

 

 

I love food. I love cooking.

The Happiest Person

At the grocery, there was a man who I guessed was mentally handicapped from the way he talked, walked and reacted to things. He was with a woman, and the two were probably in their late 30’s. When he was coming through the aisle, he said asked me to move and then added “I didn’t want to hit you!” and we both kind of laughed. At first I was annoyed, and it caught me a little off guard to realize that–hey, maybe that person can’t help that behavior.

Our clerk scowled and whipped each and every can of orange juice into the empty cart, almost with added emphasis. My dad asked her to please not throw in the cartons of yogurt because they would break and splatter. She set one down roughly, tossed the other in, and winged more hard things on top of them. Yes, I know clerks want to get to the next person, but this was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.

I stepped back, not wanting to be in the line of fire, and noticed that the man and woman were finishing with their order a few registers away. The clerk finished their order, took the woman’s money, but then scanned two more things on a separate order. The man watched and grinned, like these were his items.

“9.78,” the cashier said.

The woman handed him a $10 bill and the man next to her put an arm around her and, beaming, said “Thanks, sis!” He seemed so happy. Our clerk was still scowling and waited in frustration as my dad took out his wallet.

In the meantime, the man and his sister were getting ready to bag up their items, when the man turned to his own cashier and said “God bless you!”

It was really sweet, but got me thinking…Between our clerk and the man, who was the happiest and most full of life? Why do we expect it to be differently?

Tired day

After I biked over a draw bridge and was chased home yesterday (only to exagerate the issue a little), today I am completely wiped. Days like these pass in similar fashion: By noon, I can’t recall anything productive I completed that morning, including getting dressed, having breakfast, starting school, and the like. I try to make progress on something, but by 3 o’clock, I’m passed out on my bed, sometimes too antsy to fall asleep.

Dinner time, I start to feel a little better but begin to wonder if perhaps I’m not coming down with a bug. By 9 o’clock I can’t move, and then it gets to be around 11 o’clock pm, and I’m ready to par-tay.

One of the other things I do to keep myself awake during times like these, it to take a break and do something I really like. Just to get that feeling of Wow, I sort of want to stay awake for this. Tonight, I was hoping to add Twitter and Pandora widgets to my blog–but guess what? WordPress doesn’t allow javascripts or flash.

Come on.

I love WordPress, but lately I’ve been considering getting another domain and hosting service, just so I can do what I want without resctrictions. (Sounds so teenager-ish of me, eh?) And, yes, I do know coding (PHP, CSS, HTML, PHP includes, etc, etc) but my question for anyone reading this tonight is What hosting service do you have and are you happy with it?

My day, the 1970’s adventure episode

Instant recap: Okay, so I posted the other day that the coffee shop had reopened, and I have successfully completely three consecutive afternoon shifts, each about 6 hours long. We now have a panini grill, which in turn has quadrupled our sandwich menu. A lot of things have changed, and since the shop is under new management, it’s a much happier place to be.

The real post: I bike to work. Round trip is about 3.5 miles, and it is not flat. Many, many hills, including a 1000 ft bridge and through town and narrow sidewalks. Why do I bike when my parents offer to drive me? First, I need to get used to navigating my way in traffic before I go for my license on June 25th. Second, I have lost 8 pounds from April to May and it is still dropping because I am not constantly snacking on pound cakes and scones. Third, I need to get in shape. The Detective Booth in my head is constantly mocking me. No, seriously. I’m like schizo, or something. Just kidding.

I really haven’t had any problems biking until today. I didn’t even have problems that one day last summer when I biked home in the pouring rain, with no brakes on my bike, on the cell to my mother, and over a bridge with rails not to high for passing bikers. And because I survived that, I have never questioned if there is a God.

Today, however, I literally stepped onto the middle partition of the bridge when the bells started going off. Then the horn. The stoplight went on for the cars, and everyone stopped and the bridge usually opens right away. HEY I’M RIGHT AT WHERE IT’S SUPPOSED TO OPEN AND I DON’T THINK THEY SEE ME. The incline on the bridge going into town is really steep, so I usually walk it. It would take me forever to get seated on my bike, start pedaling up the incline and zip down the decline, so I took my bike handles and began to run. Already I was out of breath, and I’m hurying because I still don’t know if the bridge tendors see me. I’m almost past the red and white safety bars (not unlike those parallel to train tracks) and they start to go down. Immediately, they spring back up and I sprint a few yards past, get my butt on the seat and fly down the rest of the bridge. As soon as I crossed the intersection at the foot of the bridge, I turned around and saw that the bridge was almost all the way up.

I almost died.

Actually, I was just out of breath and a little freaked out. So, after I got to work about 5 minutes later, I sat for about 10 minutes and drank about 14 ounces of cool water.

When I get off work, I call Mom to let her know I’m on my way home. When she asks “Where are you?” I most often times respond “At the police station!” because I cut through the parking lot. From there to home, it’s about 1.5 miles, and for like the first time, I made it there to home without stopping. Part of this is because the incline on the bridge is not as severe as the other way, so that whoooole way I trudged then ran up, I get to speed down like there’s no manana.

Then, I cut across behind a parking lot by a bar and deserted hardware store, and take the most gorgeous commute home. There is nothing prettier than Lake Michigan at sunset, with the cool breeze and the lapping water…I also cut through a park (don’t be hater, there is a brick path) and saw that there was a party.

What’s weird about me, is that I hate other teenagers. I’m like a betta. Seriously though, they squeal, get drunk, use credit cards, and wear mini shorts. The girls are worse. (Mostly kidding, hahaa)

But there are about 30 of them, teenagers and young adults alike, playing volleyball and blasting rap. Almost as if on queue, a guy yelled out “Hey!” Psh, hey bro, I don’t stop for dawgs like you and I don’t even see yo face, hon. So I kept going. Uh oh, another steep incline up ahead. There’s a white sedan coming down towards the parking lot and it’s windows are completely tinted. If I were a cop, I would have pulled him over. I say that about most people, so going on….A red sports car happened to be pulling out of the parking and the two cars pulled alongside each other so that the driver’s windows were facing each other. I call this “cop style.” But it’s kind of creepy, so I use those hamstrings and get up that incline and across the deserted intersection when the white sedan pulls up the incline and down the street, going real slow.

But I keep going, thinking that I’m just paranoid, right? Still going slow, the car pulls onto another street. Sweet, I was being paranoid. But then I see the red sports car passing the intersection, going super slow as well. That car also had tinted windows, but I presume it was teenager or young adults. This guy didn’t turn, but kept going straight in the direction I was going. I’m still at a small incline, and he stays well behind me.

He follows me for about three streets, and I then I felt like hey, I really am being followed, and turned off a side street. I looked back a few times, but never saw him pass by.

Now, I wouldn’t think they’re behavior odd, except there were two of them, both going about 7 mph, same direction as me, and it’s a residential area where people fly past like they’re being cattle-prodded. I made it through that last incline and down into my backyard, panting and sweating.

I was greeted by my little brother, who is now waiting for me to play videos games. I promised I’d be down 11 minutes ago, so….

Ciao

Goodnight, Sun

This was my view this evening. I must say, this made up for the fact that I don’t get any direct sunlight in my room.

This afternoon, I told my mom that I don’t like gallivanting around town because something always happens. Drama may only be continued if the proper audience is present. Even if I only plan on biking, walking, or writing, it seems that I always run into someone.

Yesterday, I biked into town while it was raining. I love the smell of hot, wet asphalt. The plan was to pick up my friend a birthday gift. Once I got home, I decided that her gifts were too cool, and that I was going to go back today and buy some for myself.

The store that I bought the gifts from is directly across the street from the coffee shop, which has been papered up for the past 6 weeks due to closing. I still think that that the police chief contacted my boss, which made him decide to bite the bullet, close down and sell. But that’s just a theory…

However, all the paper was down and I saw people inside! My new boss had hoped to open for Memorial Day Weekend, but she hadn’t called me. Needless to say, she’s a little busy beteween a new business and a baby arriving within the next few weeks. So I crossed the street, and knocked on the door. Inside was my new boss and one of my friends–neither of whom I had seen since March! I was so excited!

The place is completely revamped. New paint on the walls, new flooring in the kitchen area, new counter tops, painted drawers, brand new appliances, and all the furniture had been rearranged.

I stayed for about an hour and a half to help measure and bag coffee beans and trail mix, all the while talking with Annie and Flo. Annie asked me when I could start, and I said whenever worked for her. So I work tomorrow afternoon at the new coffee shop.

Not only that, but Annie mentioned the crisis that they were opening in 15 hours and had no pastry items. Her husband was in Green Bay, buying scones and other such things. Then I mentioned—Hey, I might be going to culinary school in the fall; would you like me to make stuff and sell it to you?

So, tonight I compiled a list of recipes, made a chart on MS Word, described each recipe and listed the ingredients, wrote up a list of all the ingredients I would use and converted pounds to ounces to cups to tablespoons and divided that into the price of the item. Tomorrow morning, I will calculate how much it will cost me to pay my mom for the resources used in each recipe and deduct that from how much I would like to sell the items to Annie, and how much Annie would able to sell them for, and the amount of profit she would make.

Whew! For now, I am going to settle down and write, but I’m going to visit a few blogs and add a few widgets to my own.

Bonne nuit

Following God’s Will

It’s hard, but it doesn’t have to be.

I don’t like it when teenagers claim to know everything about everything, but I think if you’ve experienced something or in the midst of a situation, you should write about no matter what age you are.

One of the things I and my family have been struggling with is learning how to take the next step. Wouldn’t it be nice if God appeared every 6 months and said “Hey guys, this is where you’re moving in less than 3 months. Mary, you’re going to go to this college and into this field, which I promise you that you’ll love and it’ll be very profitable in many ways for many years to come.  I’m going to warn you about a few things, but it’ll all be okay…”

Actually, He does sort of say that:

“…For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back from captivity….”

-Jeremiah 29:11-14b (NIV)

We know where we are now, and God tells us where we’ll end up. It’s the middle, the specifics, that are scary. The what’s-going-to-happen next factor. The suspense. The fact that you could be killed in a car accident tomorrow. It’s the fact that you’re in the dark, feeling your way through. Yeah, you know the dark hallway is straight, so why not walk straight? Because something might be in the way.

It all boils down to trust.

You’re not in control of the situation, God is. Remember that job offer last year? You applied to 20 places and didn’t hear back from any of them, but then your friend’s uncle had an opening in his business and hired you. All those applications and resumes had nothing to do with the outcome. Remember when your relative had a serious health issue? You sent him all the get well cards and flowers that money could buy, and you prayed so hard and long and urged your friends to do the same. Yet, his fate is not in your hands. God decides everything, and even if someone’s chances are against the odds, He can (and has) perform miracles.

Bad things do happen, but God doesn’t suddenly sit up in his chair and ask, “How did that happen? I just look out the window for one second…”

No, He knows the outcome and how it all fits together for His plan. Even if, along the way, something horrific were to happen, He would be there grieving with you. But he always has something bigger planned.

I’m going to use a relatively minor issue for an example: my driving test next month. God knows if I’m going to pass or not. If I do, great. If I don’t, then there’s obviously some reason I’m not supposed to get it. Do I know why? No. Do I need to know why? Of course not.

Using another relatively minor example: it’s the same thing with my book. So many times I’ve printed out the first three pages of a story and gave them to my mom to critique. But then the story isn’t my secret anymore. I lose steam, and start another project. Repeat. So far, my novel is 80,000+ words, and no one has read a single sentence.

But I’m sure there are other reasons than being “secretive” that andwhy God doesn’t want us to know His plan. We have to trust Him, and it’s when we trust Him that our faith grows stronger.

Ah, maybe this is just me putting Chapters 15 and 16 of Dr. James Dobson’s Life on the Edge into my own words. I’m just applying it to my life, I guess.

One more Bible verse:

“What we’ve learned is this: God does not respod to what we do; we respond to what God does. We’ve finally figured it out. Our lives get in step with God and all others by leting him set the pace, not by proudly or anciously trying to run the parade.

-Romans 3:27b-28 (The Message, Eugene Peterson)

Shorter posts, more often

That’s the goal, anyway.

Yesterday, I wrote a post but deleted it only 9 minutes after I published it. Why? Sometimes I just get those bad feelings after I hit publish. No, I don’t know why.

Since my last entry I have:

• Turned 18 (woohoo!!)
• Performed in 2 concerts
• Scheduled a driving test with the DMV
• Reached 80,000 words on my novel
• Can play two movements on Handel’s Sonata No. 4
• Applied to a college that I actually want to go to

Seems like a lot in a short amount of time, but that’s life. I only thought things would move this quick when I was 90 years old, but wow…Days are turning faster than pages these days.

I think I can also announce that we’re moving at the end of this summer….? Where we move depends on if I get into said college. It doesn’t seem weird to think that I’ll be packing soon, mostly because I’ve been packing since I was 15, as I really did have that much stuff. Before officially moving, we moved a lot of stuff to our two storage garages, that we later paired down to one.

I still have a lot to get rid of, but I’m getting there. I think that the more stuff you have, the harder it is to go where God wants you to go. Especially if you’re a packrat. Like me. But I’m breaking myself of that habit, slowly, but surely.

I have another topic that I’d like to write about, but I’m going to save that for the next post. I’m also plotting a revamp for my blog, and may possibly invest some money in a domain name. We shall see, we shall see…

Caves and Coves

Ack, I was going to post this earlier, then my laptop died and by the time I got it to start working again, I realized I had Bones season finale waiting for me in my Hulu queue. Did anyone see last night’s Bones? What did you think? I mean, hallucinations? C’mon…

Anyway, yesterday we took a roadtrip and went to a park. This wasn’t your typical kind of park where you stand and gaze at the lake, then toss rocks at the waves. At first, I thought it was pretty. Cliffs with the lake 16 feet below is kinda cool, eh?

Then we got closer, and heard thunder. It was supposed to storm yesterday afternoon, but this thunder was rhythmic, not inharmonic like the first few sounds of thunder before a storm. Ahead, water lapped out from under the haze and the fog. In between the trees, this is what we saw:

It’s so pirate-y, I can’t even begin to describe it. Can’t you picture The Black Pearl emerging from the fog? It gets better.

The thunder we heard was actually the waves going under the rocks and spraying back out. There were some pretty neat little caves. It reminded me of the ending in Harry Potter 5. Didn’t he have to hide in coves?

It didn’t take long for me to remind myself that the beginning of the climax in my book was to take place at a beach. Instead of your average sunny-day, white-sand beach, I think I’m going to make it something like this. After my imagination started to spin, I ended up plotting out most of my climax.

Above is a fallen ledge that had been exposed to too much erosion. Could you imagine being there when it fell? How loud would that have been? After seeing something to intricate and detailed, it’s amazing to me that some people think all this happened by one big bang.

That’s all for now I’m taking a break from writing today and I’m going to go lounge and read. Or perhaps I will turn these pictures into iPod touch and iPhone backgrounds.

My Writing Desk

My bedroom faces north, so the only time I get any trace of sun is very early in the morning (about 5:30), usually in late summer. Last night, I was able to prop one of my casement windows out in just a way so that I was able to shine some light on my writing sanctuary, and felt the need to document it.

So here is an introduction to my nice little area. First and foremost, I always have about three 1/2 full bottles of Ice Mountain lying around. Behind them are my most valuable writing books: Character Naming Sourcebook (Sherrilyn Kenyon), Writer’s Guide to Character Trait (Dr. Linda Edelstein), Plotting and Writing Suspense Fiction (Patricia Highsmith), Police Procedure & Investigation (Lee Lofland), Hooked (Les Edgerton), and lastly Webster’s NewWorld Vest Pocket Dictionary. The last is under a water bottle hahaa…

I can’t tell you how often I’ll sit down to a neat and tidy desk, and then two hours later I’ll find notebooks and folders strew to the side, and my Character Naming Sourcebook propped open, with an index card to the side that says must be Irish last name in a scrawl that only I (sometimes) can understand.

Above my laptop on the wall are clippings: There’s the Gucci ad that reminds me of my villain, my brain list which I am trying to memorize, the soundtrack to my book listing songs that instantly send me into my little world, a word count goal, a clipping on famous people who were homeschooled, a quote by Michael Connelly (“The best cime novels are not about how a detective works on a case, but how the case works on a detective.”), a clipping about laziness VS writer’s block by Christina Williams (“[The difference is] whether or not the keyboard imprint on your forehead is from using it as a pillow or smacking your head in it.”) aaand a drawing and essay I created when I was 7-1/2 that says “I want to be a detective. I can practes now and do some now. by Mary…Januway 6th wensday” Above it is a little guy with a magnifying glass, hovering over some very haphazard-looking footprints When I was 7, I had a detective kit, a ballerina tutu and a Star Wars StormTrooper gun. I really haven’t changed that much

To the right of my laptop is a wooden box that my dad handmade and polished for me for Christmas. Of all my little stationary boxes, this is my favorite

Listening to Roe Conn on WLS!! Drew Peterson is finally arrested!!