Daily Life

Dentists and other awfulness

Attribution: Spaarnestad Photo, via Nationaal Archief. (The girl in the back shares my fear of dentists.)

Today I went to the dentist. Really, the only good thing for me about going to the dentist is being done with the dentist and then not having to go for another six months.

Lots of people say, “Oh, it’s not a big deal.” And while I have never had a cavity, it is still a traumatic, awful experience for me. Let’s break down all the reasons why dentists are the worst/why I don’t get them:

1) They always make you feel awful, no matter what. “Someone’s not flossing much, huh?”, “Do you sleep with your mouth open?”, “I make so much more money than you do.” OK, they never say that one out loud, but I’m sure they think it inside.
2) The noises those instruments make! I think a horrible inventor decided one day to make a high-powered polisher, but then cackled evilly and decided to make the polisher in a way so it makes the most high-pitched noise possible. That way, the inventor thought, they’ll be miserable AND think their teeth are being sawed through!
3) The in-office flossing could be used to torture suspects into confessions, I’m sure of it. The military just hasn’t realized that yet.
4) The taste of latex gloves in your mouth has to be one of the worst. No questions asked.
5) Correct me if I’m wrong, but teeth scraping is possibly the only thing we’re subject to listen to as it works its magic. Antibiotics? Don’t hear those disintegrating in your stomach as they go to attack that infection. Ice packs? Don’t have to listen as it takes down the swelling from your bruised knee or whatever. But the scraping of the teeth has to be the worst. I’m convinced my teeth are chipping apart as they go.
6) The bib. First, it makes you feel like a baby again. Second, having to see everything from your mouth that they wiped off on it during your appointment? Gag me.

That’s the short list. Dentists are icky.


Aurora, movies, and not living in fear

I really don’t know what to say. I doubt I can say anything more profound, moving or heartbreaking than what I’ve already read today.

I didn’t know anyone at the theater in Aurora today, or even know anyone who knew anyone who knew anyone. But I needed to blog because I felt like I was suffocating all day under the heavy sadness, and blogging is the only way I can release it.

Going to the movie theater is something almost everyone enjoys. You go, you escape the world around you for a few hours, usually stare at some people on the screen who are much more attractive than anyone you know in real life, and you eat popcorn. It’s an escape, a journey, a fantasy.

But similar to flying after 9/11, now there’s hesitation about going to the movies.

I don’t want to let one evil person destroy that for me. It’s not that I can’t live without movies, because I can. It’s about standing up and being with friends still and not letting something awful have the final say. Will I probably be on edge a little later tonight? Sure. Will I be doing a lot more deep thinking about the themes in the movie than before? Probably. Will I go and enjoy myself and the movie regardless? Absolutely.

My thoughts and prayers are with all who are living through the horror in Colorado. It’s a small, insignificant tribute, but I’m going to the movies to show my support tonight.

Credit: Mark Randal


Batman and my brother

Everyone (I could very literally mean everyone) is going to see “The Dark Knight Rises” tonight. I considered going because there’s nothing quite like a midnight viewing crowd, but there’s also this thing called work in the morning.

That being said: Tomorrow at 9:30 p.m., I will be a very happy girl!

Big blockbuster movie releases, particularly a Batman one, make me miss my bro. That kid is an amazing movie critic, let me tell you. He made me watch all the Star Wars movies before the new wave came out a few years ago. Then he was the one who introduced me to the brilliance that is Christopher Nolan’s work with “The Prestige.” He went and saw “The Social Network” with me the week after I was offered the job here, so he endured me waxing poetically afterwards about how I owed my new job to the Zuck and how crazy was that?!

Probably the most fascinating experience was when he talked me into seeing this movie that no one had ever heard of called “Moon.” I’m still pretty confident we were the only ones who ever saw it. But it’s still one of my favorite movie experiences because a) I still don’t think I understand what exactly happened in that movie, b) it began our tradition of being dates to movies, and c) watching it at the breathtakingly gorgeous Oriental Theater in Milwaukee (the only theater showing it nearby) was definitely worth all the confusion.

Seeing the last Batman movie without him tomorrow will be bittersweet, but I still owe him a movie date next time I go home, so maybe I’ll let him drag me to another off-the-wall “What ARE we watching?!” movie.

The most flattering photo of us.


A boy and a girl… 30 years later

This is the story of a boy and a girl. Their names are Gary and Char. They are my parents, and tomorrow is their 30th wedding anniversary.

July 16, 1982. I love that my mom was awesome enough to wear a kickin’ hat. Also, props to my dad for the bold choice of a white tux.

Their story starts back in the glory days of college when they were introduced to each other by a couple who are still their best friends to this day. Polly was my mom’s college roommate while Mike and my dad had been best friends since around junior high. Mike and Polly were dating and thankfully decided to introduce my parents to each other. Obviously, I owe a great deal to those two, as I would not exist had they not decided to play matchmakers.

Growing up, one thing that I always knew about my parents’ marriage is that they were in it for the long haul. The first time I fully grasped this was when we were all in the car together and my parents were having an “intense disagreement” (my mom’s phrase). I don’t know how old I was, but I remember I was old enough to know what divorce was and had probably just learned of someone close to us getting one. Terrified, I begged my parents in the middle of their argument to not get divorced. I don’t remember which parent said the following words, but they have always stuck with me.

“Molly, we are never getting a divorce. We will always be together.”

I was so comforted by that bold declaration that I have never since lived in fear of my parents separating at any point. Sure, they have had disagreements and moments like everyone does, but I have known always that they’d work through things instead of throwing in the towel.

I’m not even close to getting married at this point in my life (*cough*moving on*cough), but I know– should the time ever come– I have such a fantastic example to follow in them. Beyond how great they are together, they are phenomenal parents. I don’t know how I deserved being their child, but I’m just thankful I am. I think I can safely speak on behalf of my sister and brother when I say we all know they’d do anything for us… and often have. I live a thousand miles away and only feel the pain of being away from them physically, not emotionally. They’ve always been there for me and always will.

I am thankful I can see bits and pieces of myself that I inherited from them. I got my mom’s sense of humor, but have my dad’s laugh. I got my love of black-and-white movies from my dad, but have my mom’s obsession with holidays. My temperament is definitely a mix from both of them (hooray firstborns!) and my drive to accomplish things is definitely something both of them contributed to, one way or another.

They instilled in me a love of traveling and exploring, thanks to month-long road trips they took us on growing up. They never let me off-easy and forced me to own up to my mistakes. They never tried to tell me what I could or couldn’t do, where I should go to college, or what I should do with my life. They did everything they could to help me along the way, but never suffocated me. They let me become the adult I am today.

Most importantly, they faithfully kept Christ in their marriage and our lives. They both accepted Christ as their Savior shortly before I was born, and I can’t imagine what our family life would have been without their constant foundation in our faith. Every decision, every issue, every problem was looked at in light of Scripture. To me, that made all the difference in the world.

All that to say, I love you, Dad and Mom. Happy 30th anniversary and may there be many, many more.


Daily Life

Little Red Riding Hood highlights and haircuts


Unintentionally, this blog post is all about hair. Don’t hate me for it.

The above photo is what happened post-barbecue with friends last night. True to our group’s spirit, spontaneity happened and Albert ended up getting his hair buzzed off by Jovan, then Jovan got his buzzed by Eunice. While all that craziness was happening, Mel and I were in the other room watching wedding dance videos, as David and Mel’s wedding is a whole three weeks away! And because it’s fun.

Today was my turn for one of my favorite activities in the world: getting my hair done. A little bit of pampering, girl talk, and a new look at the end of it all is always a great way to spend a few hours.

A little history on my haircut tendencies: I am always spontaneous and up for anything when it come to my hair, so I used to just walk into a random Supercuts hours after deciding I was sick of my hair. I would Google “hairstyles,” print a photo out, and march in with it. I don’t think I’ve ever hated a haircut I’ve received, honestly.

But then I found my twin in my hair dresser here. She is beyond fantastic and takes a vision I have and turns it into something even better. I had red highlights put in last time I visited her, so today it was time to bring them back, much to our excitment (and my mom’s possible long-distance chagrin). She decided she’d give me “Little Red Riding Hood” highlights, which just sounded cool. Below is the end result. The streak of good haircuts and colors continues!


Funny stuff

Beneficiaries and my Aaron Rodgers doll


What you’re looking at is my dad at his finest (and funniest). Since our newspaper group was sold from one company to another a few weeks ago, we’ve had to re-fill out some paperwork, including the beneficiaries form and all that jazz.

As a 24-year-old, this seems like an incredibly morbid thing to have to do, though I know it’s just procedure. Add to it the fact that I hardly have anything to my name at this point, it becomes almost comical. But I was honestly feeling a bit depressed today going through all of it and like the Grim Reaper was coming for me.

My dad and I generally check in with each other on GChat about once a day (he’s probably the only person who notices my statuses on there, so I can never leave “TGIF!” up for too long), so today I wanted to send him a quick note about listing him and my mom as beneficiaries. I figured he should be in the know.

Instead of sending back a “Well, you don’t need to worry about it” or something to that extent, he did one better. He claimed my Aaron Rodgers and Li’l Sebastian stuffed animals. I laughed a little very, very hard.

My dad is the funniest.

Update: I have two funny parents. My mom joined the fun and claimed the clothes of mine that she likes.