Let’s suppose you have a brief that looks like this:

Brief

The headings used for the different sections are part of the paragraph. This causes a problem when generating a TOC because Word will pull in the entire paragraph as the TOC entry. This is generally not what is wanted. To stop this, we will use a Style Separator.

1. The first step in using a Style Separator, is adding a hard return where the Style Separator is to be inserted.

Don’t worry that this creates two separate paragraphs, and meddles with numbering; this will all be fixed when we insert the Style Separator.

2. Place your cursor at the end of the first line. This marks the end of the text to be included in the TOC.

3. Click the Style Separator button on the Quick Access toolbar, if available. Alternately, insert a Style Separator using Ctrl + Alt + Enter.

The Style Separator inserts and the paragraphs rejoin.

Paragraphs Rejoin

4. Click in the second part of the paragraph, following the Style Separator.

5. Apply a body text style to the remainder of the paragraph.  Apply any additional formatting as necessary.

Initially, I thought about creating a Marie Curie silhouette Jack O’Lantern but quickly decided this was beyond my skill level. Instead, I settled on creating two pumpkins displaying the electron shell diagram of radium and polonium, the two elements most closely connected to her. AND, the fact that radium and polonium are radioactive and “glow” was just gravy.

Of course I procrastinated. Friday, after work, I went pumpkin shopping. I went to the first super market and they had one. ONE. Instead of picking it up, I thought I could do better (this one had some green to it’s skin, and I wanted a pure-bred orange pumpkin), and headed down the street to the next grocery store.

The next grocery store had a few more, but they were all of the pie/sugar/baby bear variety. The design I wanted to make was pretty large, and I wanted it to display on the side of the pumpkin, possibly with something on the reverse, but then I began to panic thinking that these pumpkins may in fact be the last available for purchase in the entire city of New Orleans. So, I grabbed two.

Then, I headed back to the first grocery store intent on picking up the larger, green-tinged gourd. I walked in the door but it was gone! Damn it all! I wandered aimlessly around the produce department until I saw some little tiny pumpkins that came six to a package (“Paint Activity Kit”) with instructions and paint! This was ridiculous (and they were SIX dollars!) but they were so cute and I was going into pumpkin hoarding mode, sort of like the storm supply hoarders before a tropical storm. So I bought them.

This is what I ended up with:

Yeah there's a bottle of wine in there too.

So, with my pumpkins (and wine) in-hand I set about carving my pumpkins.

My patterns were roughly the size of an 8.5 x 11 piece of paper; there was no way this was going to fit on the sides of my pumpkins. After heavy consideration, I decided to suspend the project. Kidding! I flipped the pumpkins over and decided to use the patterns on the bottoms, which you will see, actually worked quite well with the designs.

Before transferring the patterns to the pumpkins, I had to do the normal, cut-the-pumpkin-open-scrape-out-the-goo stuff.  Here are some pictures!

Pumpkin Goo!

I scraped and scooped for the duration of approximately one Planet Money podcast; I party pretty hard on Friday nights, what can I say. After all the scraping and scooping, here’s what I had:

Pumpkin Floaties!

Sure, I could have just scooped it all into the trash, but I wanted to save the seeds, as roasted pumpkin seeds are one of the best things in the world.  So, I put all of the goo into a bowl and filled the bowl with water. Then I scooped out the seeds. This was one of the easiest-to-separate seed/goo compositions I’ve ever worked with, which was a nice change.

Here’s when I really, really wished my sink had a garbage disposal:

Pumpkin Parts in the Sink

Anyway, after everything was separated and I’d cleaned up my mess somewhat, I flipped over pumpkin one and set about fitting the pattern.

Pumpkin Pattern

(Okay, so some of you can probably figure out what my pattern is by now, but for the rest of you, stay tuned.)

I smooshed the pattern cut pieces of paper off the edge where necessary and taped it all down with electrical tape (it was all I could find when my hands were covered in goo and the black + orange was very Halloweeny). Then, I started poking holes through the pattern into the pumpkin flesh with a push pin to transfer the pattern. Approximately a billion of them. Here’s pumpkin one, after I’d punched holes for about two orbits.

Pumpkin Holes

I recommend sitting in front of the TV watching some DVR’d episodes of the Twilight Zone or whatever strikes your fancy. Because this part kind of takes forever. Seriously.

Once all of the orbits were traced with nice little pin pricks, I got out my drill. Drill?! Yes! I used my drill to “transfer” the electrons from my pattern to the pumpkin; I’m sure this is what my dad had in mind when he bought the drill for me. The nice thing about using the drill was that it was powered.  After punching approximately a billion holes with a push pin after typing all day, my hands were a little tired. Also, drills make perfectly round holes and you can choose a bit that matches up with the electron size on your pattern.

Here’s what drill + pattern + pumpkin looks like:

Pumpkin Drill Mess

I will say, that you need to press pretty hard/evenly when drilling the holes, otherwise the bit slips and you run the danger of two electrons colliding and/or switching orbits, and we all know what happens then. We don’t? Well, read this.

After making a mess out of the pattern, ripping it in several places and covering my counter with pumpkin goo, I took off the pattern to reveal this!

Pumpkin Unmasked

I really, really needed a pipe-cleaner at this point to ream out the holes I’d drilled.  The first time in my life that I’ve had a legitimate use for a pipe-cleaner, and nary a pipe cleaner to be found.  So I took a skewer (the kind used for kabobs, but really, are there any other kinds?) and went through each and every hole, to make sure that light could get through. I also counted the holes to make sure that my Jack O’Lantern was accurate; it needed to have 88 holes/electrons. And it did! Hooray!

Once I finished radium, I repeated the entire process for polonium. Same scooping/sorting, same punching of a billion holes, drilling/pattern ripping, etc., until I had this:

Radioactive Pumpkins

See how the stem/blossom spot makes the perfect nucleus!

Polonium and radium pumpkins!  Here’s a picture of them aglow, using a candle, sadly, rather than radioactivity:

Pumpkins Aglow

Polonium glowed brighter than radium, which I don’t think is the case in real life. I think this was because the flesh of the polonium pumpkin was a bit softer, and it was the second pumpkin I made, and well, practice makes perfect.

Another picture!

Radium and Polonium Pumpkins

Those are pretty crappy pictures. I’ll take some more tonight while they’re out on my porch.

Oh, and I ended up with some tasty pumpkin seeds too!

Pumpkin Seeds

I waited to post this so that I could add a better picture.  Here’s the pumpkins on my porch tonight.

Pumpkins on the Porch

Long story short, TEN (10!) of my family members came to visit me for the first time last week. I swear we went to every tourist spot in the state of Louisiana. I am exhausted, and haven’t had much time/energy (or I’m just totally lazy) for my “research” and writing. So, that’s what’s been going on.

Anyway, look for more adventures in atomic tourism soon. In the meantime, this should keep you happy. Or it does me anyway. (I want to live in the Element Village!)

Here’s some handy information about fallout.

This is good also. It’s about how a neat house and yard will more likely survive a nuclear blast. Just say no to hoarding.

A is for Atom is clearly the winner, but all are good. Enjoy!

At the Atomic Testing Museum I learned that there were atomic tests performed in places other than the Nevada Test Site; New Mexico, Alaska, Colorado, Mississippi. Wait, what? Mississippi? Turns out there were two atomic blasts, the Salmon and Sterling Blasts, part of Project Dribble, detonated at the Tatum Salt Dome in Baxterville, Lamar County, Mississippi in October 1964 and December 1966. That’s, like, super close to me.

Yesterday morning I went to the beach in Waveland. This happens to be my favorite beach in the neighborhood. See the pretty picture?

Here’s another one, with another fancy filter from Instagram.

Pretty, right? Good. Glad you think so, because that’s the last of the pictures I have for this post. More on that in a bit.

It was a gorgeous morning. Low 60s, sunny, breezy. I was wearing a sweatshirt and really, really enjoying finishing my book and just soaking up the loveliness. Then I decided, like any other single lady in her early thirties hanging out at the beach would, “Hey, why don’t I go and find the nuclear blast site that’s somewhat near here?”

Since I’m mildly obsessed with the topic, I knew that I was reasonably close (in the same state) as the blast site, and that it was somewhat north (because, well, south was the ocean) of my location. The blast site was near Hattiesburg according to information that I’d found earlier in my “research” (do I sound like a crazy person when I use that term? Break out the tinfoil hats then), between some towns called Purvis and Baxterville. I couldn’t remember this on the beach but did remember that the blasts took place in the Tatum Salt Dome. So, I typed Current Location to Tatum Salt Dome into Google Maps. Amazingly, a map appeared!

Alright, I lied; another picture. Kind of.

I put my beach chair back in the trunk and headed on my way. Basically I needed to get back to I59, head up to Lumberton and then make my way to Baxterville where I would find Tatum Salt Dome Road, where one would think, the Tatum Salt Dome would be easy to find. One would think.

First of all, I understand that Mississippi is Southern. And rural. And it was Sunday. But, I have never in my entire life seen so many pro-life and praying for [insert state] signs jammed into front yards. There were also many, many campaign signs (some for Billy Nungesser, who is running for office in Louisiana, which is different from Mississippi) of varying levels of creativity/effectiveness. From the exit on I59 to my destination and back, I puzzled over a sign that had the following text:

Help
BEN
WINston
Again

So, I wasn’t giving the sign all my brain power (other things were going on, horribly distracting pro-life signs, the possibility of men in white jeeps shooting me on sight), but it took me the entire drive to realize this sign was for a candidate named Ben Winston. They want him to WIN, in all caps. Clever. Clever, indeed.

Anyway, I drove through Lumberton, which has honestly seen better days, and carried on to Baxterville. Not knowing anything about this metropolis, I was watching my odometer closely so that I would be sure to see my turn at Tatum Salt Dome Road at 14.2 miles.

Baxterville had fared a bit worse than Lumberton, honestly. BUT, it did have great street names (which I wish I had taken pictures of) including Purvis to Baxterville Road and sought-after Tatum Salt Dome Road, which I almost drove by. Looking at this road’s intersection with the main road, one would never know it was the location of a historically significant site. Well, that’s not true. There are so many places lost to history, particularly in this part of the country.

Oh! I almost forgot. I drove through Kiln, Mississippi, which proclaimed itself as Brett Farve’s hometown. Since I’m such a giant football fan, I can’t believe I almost left out this tidbit.

Anyway, I turned down the road, it only continued in one direction, and passed a country church and several houses that looked exactly as I would think a house in rural Mississippi would look. Oak trees, farm equipment, all that and more. Then there was forest. On both sides of the road. And fences. And some metal signs that said POSTED in a large font and then in a smaller font, what I imagine said something along the lines of, “Men in white jeeps are watching you, just like they are at Area 51 in the movies, and they will shoot you at any time.” Or they were just normal No Trespassing signs, but I didn’t want to get close enough to test the waters.

Basically, I got frustrated, which led to my freaking myself out. I found a gated dirt road, surrounded by woods on both sides, that looked like the pictures on this site, but that’s it. This site has pictures that look like the general area where I was, but that’s about it. There wasn’t a sign, or a marker, or anything else. I swear my car (which is named, Nuke McPherson, by the way) was making an odd rattling (probably really wasn’t). The same maroon late 90s Honda civic had driven by me twice. My apologies to the fine people of Lamar County, but scenes from Deliverance and every horror movie I’ve ever seen were running through my mind. And bang, I’d freaked myself out enough that I didn’t want to go poking around.

Despite, my little freak-out, I’m still super interested in all of this. The site referred to in the previous paragraph refers to a “ground-zero headstone-like monument.” I wanna see it!! The page mentioned above also has a “please contact me” link that sadly is dead. I really, really want to go here and look at the marker. From what I’ve learned around the Internet, and as we know everything on the Internet is true, that’s about all that is left at the site, as the rest was shipped off to the Nevada Test Site because of radioactivity. It’s so insanely interesting to me that there were two nuclear tests performed here, and hardly anyone knows anything about it. I have scoured the interwebs and haven’t really found much information about the two blasts or the site itself.

However, the most helpful information I’ve found is at the Mississippi History Now website, on this page. The tests are detailed on this page, and there’s quite a bit of interesting information and some great pictures.

I know. Pretty unfruitful (barren?) nuclear tourism trip, but they can’t all be winners. Fear not. I will go back to the site again, hopefully with someone who knows what they’re looking for (and can get me on the other side of the gate without being shot, hint, hint), and more information in-hand.

Other Information I’ve gathered about the site, because I know you’re dying to know:

• Wikipedia actually has some good information about the Salmon Site. The article does a great job explaining the salt dome in which the tests were conducted, as well as the coordinates (which I couldn’t figure out how to make my iPhone use to give me directions).
• There are a lot of crazy people (of which, I am not one, despite my “research”, etc.) interested in atomic history. It’s sort of difficult to wade through the crazy to get to the actual information.
• Care for the site surface has apparently been returned to the State of Mississippi, as of 2010, so that the site can be managed as a wildlife refuge. The Department of Energy (DOE) still maintains subsurface control of the site and is responsible for waste, radioactivity, etc.
• Here’s a PDF about the Salmon Site I downloaded from the DOE.

Until next time, Happy Atom Smashing!

The Atomic Testing Museum is situated on the campus of the Desert Research Institute on the first floor of the Frank H Rogers Science and Technology Building. The whole complex sits on Flamingo Road, just off The Strip. This complex was the last thing I expected to see a stone’s throw from chaos of The Strip.

Sadly, I didn’t have a chance to visit the rest of the institute. (I was hopped up on cough syrup because of a severe case of bronchitis and had my entire family ranging from my 8 year old nephew to my octogenarian grandmother in tow; they just don’t enjoy this sort of nerdery quite as much as I do.) But, the little I saw from the parking was intriguing.

Anyway, the museum is a program of the Nevada Test Site Historical Foundation (NTSHF) and is a member of the Smithsonian Institution Affiliates Program.  According to the Atomic Testing Museum’s website, the NTSHF was founded for the purpose of, “preserving and interpreting the history of the Nevada Test Site … [which] served as the nation’s principle on-continent nuclear weapons testing facility from 1951-1992.”

I was slightly surprised by the temporaryish nature of the sign greeting visitors as it created the expectation of something slightly sideshowish and transient in nature. I was beginning to envision my family’s revolt at this crazy excursion I’d taken us on. But, as soon as we stepped through the door, this expectation changed.

Immediately we were in a large lobby complete with a stainless steel WACKENHUT ticket counter/guard station (I’m guessing this was a re-purposed or replica guard shack from the NTS?). I didn’t think to snap a picture of this, but there are several good ones on the Atomic Testing Museum’s site.

We made our way to the guard station to purchase admission. Rather than the normal, boring tickets I’d expected, we were given WRISTBANDS (!) in exchange for our money. I would imagine that the ATM uses wristbands because it is part of a larger research complex, complete with several areas to wander, but I like to think that they use wristbands because they’re every bit as cool as any club on the strip.

So that you have an idea of the nerdiness level you’re dealing with here, I took this picture today, almost two months after my visit. No, I haven’t been wearing it the entire two months, but I still have it.

After we were all wristbaneded we headed into the exhibit up a U-shaped ramp. The ramp was flanked on either side by great pieces of Atomic Age memorabilia.

The picture above is Miss Atomic Bomb, 1957. You bet your ass I’m going to get in shape, make that costume and wear it every chance I get.

I was honestly so overwhelmed by all of the nerdy goodness (the codeine cough syrup probably didn’t help this any) at this point, that I don’t have a real sense of order about the objects I saw in this area of the museum. I do know that we walked up a U-shaped ramp, as noted above and meandered around seeing great displays containing weapons, recreated office settings (from Mercury, Nevada, on the NTS, I believe), music and toys. I was very excited to see a Gilbert U-238 Atomic Energy Laboratory which was an atomic energy lab for kids, put out in 1950 and 1951 by Alfred Carlton Gilbert. According to this article, the lab sold for $49.50 (which is the equivalent of $458.99 in 2011 dollars), making it a splendidly pricey toy.

I don’t remember seeing the inside of the box, but absolutely could have missed it. This article on Boing Boing has a link to an eBay auction selling the toy about the time of my visit to the museum. It only went for $3000! Yes, that’s a good bit of money, but not nearly as high as I would have expected. I mean, I could actually see paying that much for this myself. I guess that says something about me.

I could spend several thousand words on the cool stuff I saw in the first part of the exhibit including the wall piece listing the names of the 1021 nuclear detonations at the site. Apple II was one of the test names. Do you think this is where the computer got its name?

After the U-shaped ramp/awesome ephemera section, we headed into the Ground Zero Theater.  The theater is a concrete bunker. Really. The lighting inside the theater is provided by those industrial, metal caged bare bulbs that are a staple of every fallout shelter of TV and movies. The light itself is red, I want to say, but don’t quite remember. There are simple wooden benches lined up in front of a window. Once the lights are dimmed a screen moves into place in the window, and we watch what is a very realistic thermonuclear explosion. I swear I could feel it; I don’t know if this was from the fantastic sound system, actual air or if I was just so caught up in the moment, but it was so real. It was awesome in the classic sense of the word. I know it scared the pants off of my nephew, who in hindsight, we probably shouldn’t have taken into the nuclear blast theater. The explosion we witnessed was at least as real as the Star Tours experience at Disneyland.

There was so much more to look at in the museum (you get to play with Geiger counters! Radioactive Red Fiestaware, and much more), but I couldn’t get past the J.C. Penney section. I was absolutely captivated by this part of the exhibit. To the point of mild obsession, if I do say so myself.

J.C. Penney Before and After

J.C. Penney mannequins were used in atomic testing at the NTS, often arranged in realistic settings in Survival Town, a purpose-built town with houses, basic infrastructure, cars, food and most creepily, mannequins dressed and arranged as people in realistic settings. Mannequins are a bit creepy on their own, but nuclear mannequins, from the ’50s? Double-plus creepy.

During the Atomic Age everyone was keen on nuclear power, both in the electrical and dominating senses so it’s no surprise that J.C. Penney would want to be a part of the high-profile testing at the NTS. I talked to a museum volunteer during my visit, and he told me that the mannequins were from a J.C. Penney store(s) in Las Vegas. The NTS borrowed the mannequins, dressed in fashions of the day, performed the tests, and then returned the mannequins to the stores where they were returned to display if undamaged. Can you imagine?

Here’s a mannequin family waiting for the blast to come:

Mannequin Family

I could not get that Brendan Fraser (and Christopher Walken) movie, “Blast from the Past” out of my brain as I looked at this setup. It also made me think of so many Twilight Zone episodes. I guess my mind runs on pop culture references.

Anyway, the mannequins were arranged in life-size dioramas depicting scenes from the everyday life of an American. Dinner tables were decked out with Sunday dinners, surrounded by well dressed mannequins engaged in lively (ha!) conversation. Sally was reaching for a can of peaches in the well-stocked (Doomsday is coming!) pantry. Gladys is asleep with her eyes wide open in a polyester nightie under a single sheet in her single bed. The less lucky of the lot were strapped to poles in the desert sun. The whole lot looked like a very unsettling episode of “Leave it to Beaver.”

The mannequins were staged, in realistic interactions, the explosions were detonated, and then people looked at what had happened to both the clothing the mannequins were wearing and the mannequins themselves. The book shown in the image above has the best descriptions, mainly because they are so morbid. The writers were obviously more concerned with the effects of the blast on the clothing than on the mannequins and this made for spectacular reading.

An average description would go something like this:

Rayon shirt, frayed at left shoulder seam. Two and one half buttons missing. Pants, poly-blend, general wear, overall good condition. Jacket, leather, scuffed only. Ear partially severed. Left leg wrenched from torso at hip.

Ummm, excuse me? The damage to the mannequin was secondary. Since mannequins are literally designed to be models of people, this is a bit startling. It is so easy to think of the mannequin as a person rather than a bunch of plaster, and this makes the descriptions downright gruesome, and for me, that much more enjoyable. As I said above, I’ve been mildly obsessed by the topic, and have actually started researching the topic in earnest, which has yielded some great information.

This site has some really great photos of the whole mannequins as test subjects program.  I dig the descriptions on this site a bunch.

There is an artist, Doug Waterfield, who created an entire series of works based on the subject.  The Atomic Testing Museum said there were prints of his available in the gift shop, but I was told there were not when I asked the kindly gift shop man. I was pretty bummed about this. BUT, the artist sells the works on his website, and one day I’ll have to buy one (or receive one as a super awesome Christmas/birthday present, Mom and Dad?).

I have tons of other information about the NTS, atomic testing in general and specifically, information about J.C. Penney mannequins being used in the testing. I see this growing into my go to topic for blogging/writing in general, so if you’re interested in that sort of thing, keep an eye out for new posts!

I’ll leave you with this fantastic picture of an actual mannequin used in the testing.

(!)

I will have more posts about my exploration of the atomic age coming soon. (I sent in my badging form to the NTS, so that I can be cleared to visit the site in March 2012, so that promises an excellent chunk of writing!)

Go to the museum. It is awesome.

Sketch

Embroidery

She’s become self-aware and has rollerskates!

Tonight I was thinking about David’s Happiest Day. (Short AI help here for those who haven’t seen/have forgotten. It is 2000 years later. All humans have died. The world is covered in ice. Aliens are excavating New York and find David and Teddy. They are able to understand humans better because David and Teddy have been so well preserved. The aliens scan Teddy’s and David’s memories and find that all David ever wanted was to be Monica’s son. Although they cannot make David a “real boy” they are able to use Monica’s hair [which Teddy has had safety pinned to himself for 2000 years (!)] to bring her back to life for one, perfect day. Out of gratitude, they thank David by granting his wish, if only for one day. Phew!)

What would my happiest day be like? It would be a Sunday. At my parents’ house. Susan and Jacob would be there. My dad would cook some monster piece of meat (Ribs probably. They’re my favorite and he always makes them for me when I’m home.) on the grill, and my mom would be busy canning something, or making some beautiful crafty thing. Susan would probably be busy listing books on EBay, with a Diet Coke not far away, and Jacob would be acting like an 8 year old boy. Sammy and Billy would be busy being dogs and all the assorted cats would be wandering in and out, sleeping, eating, bringing dead things to the back step because they were proud. Maybe Tom would sit on my lap for awhile.

It would be warm outside, and sunny. That beautiful, blinding Idaho sun that I’ve seen every July of my life. The garden would be just beyond manageable. Hops, tomatoes, grapes, squash, and who knows what else, would be threatening to take over the yard. I can hear Sammy opening the screen door with her giant lab/border collie paws.

Susan might make a cheesecake (she makes the best) and I’d make way too much of something; scalloped or mashed potatoes, cupcakes, stuffed jalapenos – it doesn’t really matter, I’d just make too much.  My mom would make a salad, and we’d all dutifully eat it, not that we’re opposed to such a thing, but when ribs are involved, it can be a tough call.  We would have that bread from the Basque bakery in Boise (I live in one of the best food cities in the world, yet cannot get over my missing Basque food).

I can hear the tv trays (we used to eat at the table every night, but not any more) opening, and can see everyone’s drinks ready for eating. And we’re talking. Loudly (we’re not a quiet group). Not about anything important, probably what is on tv. A normal, once-a-week Sunday at my parents’ house is my absolute favorite day.

So, that’s it. My perfect-happiest day. Family. Food. Farm. Idaho Sunshine. That’s all it takes.

If you could have one, happiest, perfect day, what would it be?

Makes my heart smile.

So my plan for 2011 is to have some goals. (I don’t like that word, but you get the gist with it; I’m looking for a better word.) Not some grand, “I think I”ll build a school for every child in Africa by the time I’m 40,” type objectives, but some simple, attainable and important-to-me milestones. I know it’s still a few weeks out, and technically I give myself until January 26 of each year to start my new year (birthday), but this is my 32nd year, and I’d like it to be a little different. You see, up until this point in my life, I haven’t had any goals. Zero. Not a single one. Sound crazy? Well, it’s just been how I’ve operated until now.

Generally, I haven’t had a clue about what I want to do with myself. (Side note; I hate Times New Roman, and had to stop mid-thought to change my font-in the Word draft. TNR was killing my soul.) This is not a new thing. I couldn’t decide where to go to college. In college, I couldn’t decide what to major in. I couldn’t decide on a career (this is a HUGE issue for me, and I hope to figure out more about this in the coming year).

So yeah. Basically, aimlessness has been a pattern of mine for as long as I can remember. I haven’t ever really felt like I’ve fit-in. I am malleable to the point of losing myself. I tend to meld my personality into something different when I’m in a relationship. Recently, yes, it’s taken me a LONG time, I’ve realized that I’m a different person when I am in a relationship and stop doing the things that I love (or at least think I do) and am good at. Not that I am co-dependent on the boy; I’ve explored that, and just don’t think that is it. I had an ex-boyfriend tell me a few years ago that I am better outside of a relationship. I didn’t understand what he meant at the time and was sure it was something negative about me (great self-esteem there). But in hindsight, I realize that he is right and that I should have thanked him.

Instead of holding my own in a relationship (because that would require my actually knowing what I want) I tend to find someone and look to them for inspiration. You play rugby? Maybe I should play rugby or at least start following the All Blacks. English food? Ruby Murray? I’ve never thought of it before, but maybe it should be my favorite. Now exposure to different things through different people is not a bad thing at all. But for me, when I am in the confines of a relationship, I kind of stop exploring and finding things on my own. I look to my partner for all of this. This. Is. Not. Good. I don’t know where the hell I’m heading and think that maybe, possibly you just might have a clue. Or so I’ve reasoned it.

And get this; I have lived in my apartment for almost a year and still haven’t unpacked or settled-in yet. It was the same in the last THREE apartments before. I’ve been so hesitant to build a life, a home, on my own. I have never wanted to be that woman. I have always wanted to have the partner, the shared life. But maybe this isn’t the case? I don’t know. But, I do know I’m tired of living like a perpetual guest in my own home. So, a big part of 2011 will be spent nesting. Buying actual furniture. Finishing painting the rooms. Making it comfortable, for me. When I moved into this apartment, I started out with the same gusto. But then, I started dating British Boy and well, I was sidetracked. I dated him for too long, and let the rest of my life slip away. That was almost a year of my life, and what do I have to show? A mostly empty apartment and a year spent being very lonely even when in what I thought was a relationship. I am so, so transient. I don’t want to be that.

Anywho, as you can tell by now, I have a terrible time staying on the task at hand. Which leads me to goals. (Still don’t like it.) I want 2011 to be different. Don’t get me wrong, 2010 was a good year, but I don’t have it just right, or even close enough, just yet. I still dated the wrong guy for too long. Didn’t think before I acted. And so on, and so on.

The goals I will strive for in 2011 will include things like, trying a new recipe once a week (or cooking through some cookbook ala Julie and Julia, which I kind of hate to admit, but really, really love and find inspiring).  And, that’s all I’ve got so far. I want things that are tangible, so I will need to keep track of them somehow. I think I need to start off small and see some accomplishments actually happen. I don’ t see this often. I am compiling a list of goals in my brain for now, and will eventually transfer them to this page. Be patient with me; I still have a few weeks. And, this is a horrible way to end this post.

He wrote the angry country album about me.

I broke his guitar.

Proposed to me with the wedding ring fishing lure.

Had his jaw broken with a cue ball.

Beautiful.

And, these change over time. Some are still fresh, and they don’t quite say what you mean, and they may never.

That being said, here’s one of the most tragic/romantic stories I’ve ever heard, and it happened to my own grandmother.

My grandma was born in 1920, so was a young woman when World War II began. She wanted to join the WAVES (truly inspiring/amazing organization for women in the 1940′s; look it up!), and help with the war effort, but her father insisted that she finish college first. So, she finished up at Missouri State Teachers College, with the intention of joining the WAVES once she was finished.

While she was attending college, she was pen pals with a high school classmate who was serving overseas (I don’t remember which branch, but think it was the Air Force). The connection between them deepened. Soon they were in love. My grandmother believed they would marry when he returned to the US.

Time went by and my grandmother’s sweetheart returned to their hometown. Only he didn’t propose to my grandmother, but got down on his knee for the girl next door instead. Really. Really, really. The entire time he had been writing to my grandmother, he had carried on a similar, and apparently more important, relationship with the girl living next door to my grandma. Now, I’m not sure how two girls, relatively close in age (I’m assuming, I really don’t know much about this woman), living next door to one another in rural Missouri did not realize they were writing to the same man (or maybe they did, but kept the depth of the relationship a secret? Or were in open competition? I don’t know, but like to think about it), but all signs point to this being the case.

So what did my grandma do? I am sure she was heartbroken (we’ll get to that part in a bit), but instead of crumbling she finished school, and moved to San Diego to do what she could for the war effort.

Although she had a teaching degree, my grandma didn’t have a certificate to teach in California. My grandma’s first job was working as a secretary at a furniture store in Escondido. Here, she made more money than she would have as a teacher. One day a man came in and began talking to my grandma. It turned out that he was the superintendent of the city’s school district, and urged my grandmother to start teaching under an emergency certificate. So she did.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, my grandma met my grandfather. My grandfather was from Oklahoma, and was building airplanes for Hughes Aircraft, because he wasn’t accepted into the military (because of poor vision, or malaria, I don’t remember which. More about him in a later post). In addition to this work, my grandfather also took care of his brother who was a few years older, but needed constant care (I think he was suffering the effects of malaria).

My grandma was 25 or so by this time (which really, was straight-up spinsterhood back in the day) and wanted to get married. My grandfather did too, but had his brother to take care of. He did not want my grandmother to have to take care of him. So, he waited until his brother died. He then took him back to Oklahoma and closed that chapter of his life. Once this was done, he returned to California and proposed to my grandmother.

They lived a happy life. My grandfather owned a chicken ranch, and my grandmother taught school. They raised my dad. They were married for fifty some years (need to look that up) when my grandfather died. I always felt bad for my grandma when we were little, because my grandfather was sick for as long as I can remember. He had a stroke when I was really young, and died when I was 19. Most of this time, I can remember him barely able to walk without a walker, and speaking with a slur. They had retired and followed my dad and mom to Idaho to be around all of us, and almost as soon as they did this, he became sick.

So, years went by. One day, after my grandfather had died, my grandma told me this story. She also showed me a fairly recent picture of the man who had broken her heart. He had gone on to have a full life without my grandma, and she had done the same. However, they had been in touch for years (I’m not sure when they reconnected, but they certainly had). They still wrote letters to each other, though now they were of a much tamer nature, I am supposing. When my grandma died, we received flowers and a card from this man.

My grandma always made sure to tell me that she had had a good life. She was thankful for everything that she had. And she was right; she did have a good life. But, I always wonder if she had the love that she wanted. I know that she loved my grandfather, but I don’t know if it was the same as she had loved the other man. Of course it wasn’t the same, but was it more of what she was after? I don’t know.

I don’t know what this says about love. I think about it a lot. I try to apply the lessons to my own love life. Love is patient. Love does not always look like you expect it to, but if given a chance, it is constant, and lasting. Or, maybe this man humored my grandmother through her entire life without reciprocated feelings. Or, it was something in between. I will never know, but it is interesting to think about, and in a painful, nostalgic way, beautiful.