Am I the only one who sees that Oprah has officially gone totally loony-bin?!? (Ok, I know I'm not the only one b/c one of my friends has already concurred.) I'm not sure how one day the feature story can be 'Mistaken Identity' commending two families who have shown such EXTREME bravery and courage through horrendous circumstances (not to mention such an AWESOME witness as Christians!) when their childrens' identities were confused. . and then the next day be covering the 'Pregnant Man'. Little conflict of interest/morals there Op.
Let's get one thing straight. . .If you have a uterus, ovaries, are able to carry a child, and were born as a WOMAN you are NOT A STINKING MAN!!!!! I only watched the very beginning of this show, b/c it piqued my curiosity as well. Of course, it made perfect sense once I knew 'he' was really a 'she'. At which point I decided not to 'encourage' Oprah by contributing to her ratings and I changed the channel. I'm not sure how a person can really think if they take hormone supplements it will "change" the sex they were born to be. Not to mention the fact that Tom/Tracy is clearly going through an identity crisis. . .
"I was born a girl, I'm in beauty pageants!"
"I'm not feminine, and am attracted to women, I think I'll become a man"
"Nope! Wait, ummm, changed my mind! I still have that uterus so I might as well utilize it! I'll just put my man-ness on the side for 9 mos in order to have a child."
"K, baby's done. Now I think I'll go back to being a guy."
Tom. . .err. I mean Tracy. . .or wait?!?! Is that Tom?!?! Do us all a favor. Pick a gender and stick with it (preferably the one you were born and created to be!)
And Oprah. . .Your themes are becoming more and more Jerry Springer-esque every day. The only sad difference is. . .people actually take you seriously.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Beautiful Buster
So 'most' of you know that last year I won a contest through Old Spice and Tory & I got a super-awesome free vacation!
So I decided if winning contests was that easy, I should enter more! =) The latest is the Bissell MVP (Most Valuable Pet) Contest. I entered Buster, b/c (yes, I do realize my bias) he is absolutely the most HANDSOME dog that ever graced the earth.
For the next month or so, all of you in cyberspace can go on and vote for Beautiful Buster. This is his picture and below is the URL to the web link to vote for him.
I can honestly say there is no need to even bother going to Bissell's website to look at the other homely dogs in the contest. Buster is THE best. He is quite the doggie model. Whenever you take his photo he perks his ears, does a cute tilt of the head and out with the tongue like he's "posing". However, my friend does have her sweet boy in the contest too, so if you're feeling REALLY generous (and have two email accounts) you could also vote for Riley. I must admit, he's pretty steep competition!
The winner of the contest gets a Bissell pet eraser vaccuum cleaner and $10,000 to donate to the pet charity of their choice! Oh, and the best part. . .his beautiful mug would grace the Bissell Pet Hair Eraser Vaccuum box! You can vote once a week in each "session". I'll update th URL if needed each week! Thanks!
Oh, and Buster says "Woof-Woof"
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Public Television Torture
Many may think the worst thing about the tornado which struck our home on October 18th was the risidual damage. . .the nightmares, the worrying every time we hear a train in the distance. Those are indeed realities of our life now. . .but even worse. . .more horrifying. . .was that our satelite dish was destroyed in the tornado. Since our home needs to be re-roofed, we made the decision to just suck it up and go w/ out the satelite dish until the roof was done. This was a mistake of massive proportions.
Today I sat and watched on Public Television, kid you not, an 80 year old man spend a full hour routing 2x4's. Route side one, flip, route side two. Place 2x4 in "routed" pile. Grab another 2x4 from "not yet routed" pile and then route side one, flip, route side two. This process was probably repeated no less than a billion times by my calculations. No commentary during the routing process. No sassy old man jokes about routing. Just silent routering (if that's a word) for an hour straight.
They make throw away cell phones, throw away cameras, almost everything these days is disposable. . .Does anyone know where I can locate a temporary "fill in" satelite dish until our new one can be safely secured to our brand-spanking new roof?? If so, please e-mail me ASAP!!!
Today I sat and watched on Public Television, kid you not, an 80 year old man spend a full hour routing 2x4's. Route side one, flip, route side two. Place 2x4 in "routed" pile. Grab another 2x4 from "not yet routed" pile and then route side one, flip, route side two. This process was probably repeated no less than a billion times by my calculations. No commentary during the routing process. No sassy old man jokes about routing. Just silent routering (if that's a word) for an hour straight.
They make throw away cell phones, throw away cameras, almost everything these days is disposable. . .Does anyone know where I can locate a temporary "fill in" satelite dish until our new one can be safely secured to our brand-spanking new roof?? If so, please e-mail me ASAP!!!
Friday, December 21, 2007
Fashion Conspiracy Theory
I have a new found respect for people who "look good". Actually TRYING on clothes and attempting to make an actual "outfit" out of individual pieces is pretty much like swimming through the ocean trying to find a freaking pearl in one of the dang clams. In fact, the more I've pondered this, I begin to wonder. . .people who look good ALL the time. .how much time do they actually SPEND shopping to look THAT CUTE EVERY DAY?! In the amount of time it would take me to look that good ALL the time. . .I could probably solve world hunger or something.
For some, it's their job. I have a friend w/ a consignment store and she ALWAYS looks good, but it is after all her job & duty to do so. But what about the rest of the world like me?? Those who are fashionably inept and don't realize that just because the pants have a variation of brown and cream & the jacket is brown and has a cream stripe. . .that no. . .they DON'T automatically "match". How can this BE!??!!? I mean they are all neutrals, right? So "technically" if neutrals go with "everything" how can they NOT go? These are the questions that keep me awake at night.
All this time I've wondered why Tory doesn't shop w/ me. Now I know the harsh reality. It's because I can try on 12 different things. . .and they all are pretty much the same as everything else in my closet. And if I do make a feeble attempt to wander away from my norm of black dress pants and a solid colored knit shirt, it is a TOTAL DISASTER. It's like the 'fashion' cells in my brain go on strike and refuse to function.
The oddest part of all? I tried. I really TRIED to heed Stacy & Clinton's advice. I was CERTAIN the outfit I had put together not only matched, but was sneaky matching like they do on What Not To Wear, where other people are like "ahhh, I never would have thought to pair those things, that is FABULOUS!" But being I would wear this outfit on Christmas morning on Praise Team in front of our very large church, I couldn't trust my often misguided fashion instincts. So I did what any fashionably challenged person would do. . .I pic texted my friend who always looks good. A minute later my phone rings. "So yeah, um, those don't really look like they match. At all." (Silence from me as I'm clearly aw-struck and taken aback). "Well, the picture is pretty small, so maybe it's just not clear enough". (more silence from me). "I really think you need just chocolate brown pants to match the blazer. You mean to tell me they don't have any matching pants to go w/ the blazer?" (I finally manage to reply w/ "The jacket was on clearance.") "Ok, listen to me. Buy the jacket, go to Kohls. Kohls will have chocolate brown pants." So I decide to heed her advice, I purchase the jacket and off to Kohls I go.
It must be that Kohls gives my friend an inventory update whenever they get a new line of clothing in, b/c they did in fact, have a pair of chocolate brown pants that almost PERFECTLY match the jacket. So from the Kohls dressing room I make phone call #2. "Ok, I now have pants, what do I put under the jacket? I can wear a plain knit shirt right?" She replied assuring me that yes ANYTHING would go b/c it's all neutral. Of course, we couldn't leave it at that. There was a "but". "BUT if you want to look REALLY cute, you should buy one of those long satiny shirts that are really popular right now and wear that underneath." (AKA what I call the pregnant lady shirt.)
Well it WAS for Christmas, and I DID feel that God would truly appreciate me going the extra mile to try to look nice on the day of his Son's birth. So I find a purply-blue satiny shirt w/ some brown patterns outlined thinking I'm being really cleaver b/c I can wear the shirt w/ the pants w/o the jacket or WITH the jacket. Of course, once I got home I realized. . .the dang satiny shirt was SHORT SLEEVED!?!?!?
Can someone please tell me WHY on God's green earth would ANYONE wear a satiny, SHORT SLEEVED SHIRT. . .in INDIANA. . .in WINTER w/o something over it? I also realize that the shirt once on my body is not just a little low cut, but really is more like lead all the church congregation into the sin of lust, low cut. So that means I have to find ANOTHER shirt to wear UNDER the satiny shirt. This brings the total shirt count to 3 (w/ the jacket).
I can only draw one conclusion from all this. . .it's all a highly concocted plan by the fashion industry to get us to buy more of their clothing. They sell things that are season/modesty inappropriate so the public will INEVITABLY have to buy MORE of the clothing to layer under or over it to make it fit for the current season or for public viewing for that matter. Spread the word. Tell your friends. Let us all wear only ONE layer in protest, to make a statement WE WILL NOT BE FOOLED!!!
Friday, October 5, 2007
Multiple Choice
Multiple Choice Question. . .
Alysia Lutz is PETRIFIED of:
A) Public Speaking
B) Birds flying into the windshield of her car
C) Public Displays of Affection
D) Singing Solos
If you answered B & D you are the BIG WINNER!!!!!
If you only 'sort of' know me, I can see how the lines might be a little crossed in your head right now. "Wait a minute. . .isn't she on Praise Team? In the church choir? Didn't she sing solos in musicals in high school? Don't I remember her sister telling the story of how she thought she was Little Orphan Annie when she was little and that she was going to be a star on BROADWAY?"
I sometimes wish they would do a Magic School Bus episode on stage fright. I would love to see the bus shrink down and all the occupants show me EXACTLY what is physiologically going on in my body when I have to sing. . .gulp. . .alone in front of a group of people. All I can say is that my brain quickly sends a signal to my body. The message it tells it is "EVACUATE!!! SHUT DOWN!!!" My palms sweat. My heat POUNDS. My face turns a shade of red that only a fire engine can compete with. And worst of all. . .I pant. I turn into one of my beloved furry friends and do NOT have the capability to breath in a normal, logical pattern.
After I stopped leading the drama team for the Connection service at NMC I decided to plug in on Praise Team. Imagine Pastor Don's surprise when I literally about had a melt down when I tried to audition for him. Thankfully he's known me (and my family) a long time and knew that there was potential. He started me off on Praise Team on Sunday nights. This was a great way to ease into things. We average 20-50 people on Sunday night so it wasn't too intimidating. After a while he started having me fill in on Sunday mornings. This was a whole different ball game. THREE services. . .PACKED!!! Thankfully my time on Sunday nights prepared me and I fell into a groove. I'm now on the regular rotation. THEN he asked me to sing in a trio. I actually did OK. Having two other people standing up there with me was the moral support I needed. Unfortunately, I knew all along what this was leading up to. . .me singing a solo. The time has come. On Sunday, October 21st I'm singing a VERY short solo on Sunday morning. (Bless this man for also putting me in a trio. There will still be two other people standing with me!) WHEW!
I'm ever the optimist. I'm trying to view this as a win-win situation. Either. . .
A) I will (as usual) hyperventilate my way through my solo and it will be SO wretched that Pastor Don will NEVER ask me to sing one again. . .HOORAY!!!!
or
B) I will finally get over this decades-long fear, sing relatively well & thank the good Lord for not using me as a lesson in humility for that Sunday's sermon.
I'm hoping that Pastor Don & God are in communication on this one and that I am indeed ready for 'the deep end' of the pool. They normally say "break a leg" but in this case I think "sink or swim" is more appropriate! =)
Alysia Lutz is PETRIFIED of:
A) Public Speaking
B) Birds flying into the windshield of her car
C) Public Displays of Affection
D) Singing Solos
If you answered B & D you are the BIG WINNER!!!!!
If you only 'sort of' know me, I can see how the lines might be a little crossed in your head right now. "Wait a minute. . .isn't she on Praise Team? In the church choir? Didn't she sing solos in musicals in high school? Don't I remember her sister telling the story of how she thought she was Little Orphan Annie when she was little and that she was going to be a star on BROADWAY?"
I sometimes wish they would do a Magic School Bus episode on stage fright. I would love to see the bus shrink down and all the occupants show me EXACTLY what is physiologically going on in my body when I have to sing. . .gulp. . .alone in front of a group of people. All I can say is that my brain quickly sends a signal to my body. The message it tells it is "EVACUATE!!! SHUT DOWN!!!" My palms sweat. My heat POUNDS. My face turns a shade of red that only a fire engine can compete with. And worst of all. . .I pant. I turn into one of my beloved furry friends and do NOT have the capability to breath in a normal, logical pattern.
After I stopped leading the drama team for the Connection service at NMC I decided to plug in on Praise Team. Imagine Pastor Don's surprise when I literally about had a melt down when I tried to audition for him. Thankfully he's known me (and my family) a long time and knew that there was potential. He started me off on Praise Team on Sunday nights. This was a great way to ease into things. We average 20-50 people on Sunday night so it wasn't too intimidating. After a while he started having me fill in on Sunday mornings. This was a whole different ball game. THREE services. . .PACKED!!! Thankfully my time on Sunday nights prepared me and I fell into a groove. I'm now on the regular rotation. THEN he asked me to sing in a trio. I actually did OK. Having two other people standing up there with me was the moral support I needed. Unfortunately, I knew all along what this was leading up to. . .me singing a solo. The time has come. On Sunday, October 21st I'm singing a VERY short solo on Sunday morning. (Bless this man for also putting me in a trio. There will still be two other people standing with me!) WHEW!
I'm ever the optimist. I'm trying to view this as a win-win situation. Either. . .
A) I will (as usual) hyperventilate my way through my solo and it will be SO wretched that Pastor Don will NEVER ask me to sing one again. . .HOORAY!!!!
or
B) I will finally get over this decades-long fear, sing relatively well & thank the good Lord for not using me as a lesson in humility for that Sunday's sermon.
I'm hoping that Pastor Don & God are in communication on this one and that I am indeed ready for 'the deep end' of the pool. They normally say "break a leg" but in this case I think "sink or swim" is more appropriate! =)
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Reasons to get pregnant/have kids
Anyone who knows me, knows that my entire life I have SWORN I would NEVER have children. At one point my coworkers pointed out (likely in their most annoying baby voice) "Ohhhh, but there are so many WONDERFUL things about having kids!!! You should think of all the pluses, rather than go straight for the negatives." I decided, ya' know what? You're right. This isn't the original list, but this list includes a few I came up with back then. . .oddly enough they never really encouraged my "positive thinking" after that. . .
10) Go-To-Excuse: ________(fill in name of annoying friends) ask you to __________(fill in thing annoying friends always ask you to go do that you DESPISE doing). Your go-to-excuse will now be: "Oh, we really wish we could, but we can't seem to find a sitter for little Tory Jr."
9) Two Words. . .Maternity Leave.
8) Kids love money and will work for it. . .cheap. Take advantage and have THEM scoop the mountain of dog poop that's been piling up in your yard for the last 6 months. Pay them a nickel to do it.
7) Free Pass: Cat box needs cleaned? FREE PASS. . .the cat urine messes w/ the uterus! Living room needs painted? FREE PASS. . .paint fumes affect a fetus! Loads of laundry needs hauled up and down the basement steps? FREE PASS. . .you really shouldn't lift heavy things after a C-Section! You get the idea. . .
6) All that crap your husband has been hanging on to since high school? You can freely toss it out in the trash & when your husband asks why on earth you would have gotten rid of it, you can smile sweetly and say "Oh, it must have been when I went through one of those cleaning bug moments. I'm sorry."
5) Expectant Mother Parking!
4) NO FOOD RIDICULE: For 10 glorious months you can shove whatever unhealthy food you want in your face and when people look at you in that 'Oh my gosh, I can't believe she's seriously gonna eat ALL of that' way. . .you simply smile and say "Oh, I know I had a double-fudge-brownie-sundae for lunch too, but it's the only thing I can eat right now."
3) License to be witchy: You know all the nasty things you want to say to people in public places? Like when you're standing next to the guy in the grocery store who apparently believes that deodorant is not necessary for proper sanitation? You now are able to guffaw, grimace, pretend to hurl or even go off the deep end and scream at the poor man about how he should not be allowed in public places unless he showers first. . .and it's perfectly acceptable. Get this. . . The other women in the store are ON YOUR SIDE EVEN!!! They'll applaud your outburst & trump that by allowing you a cut in line in front of them b/c "Oh, honey, I remember when I was pregnant. . ."
2) After 10 grueling months you finally birth Tory Jr. Admittedly, you practiced tip #4 a little too frequently. You now have 30 pounds to lose that you can no longer claim is "baby". Don't fret. For the next 6-12 months people will gladly except the excuse that you "just" had a baby. One cautionary note**** it's best not to use this excuse when you have Tory Jr in tow and he's now 2 yrs old.
1) TAX DEDUCTION FOLKS!!! TAX DEDUCTION!!!!
10) Go-To-Excuse: ________(fill in name of annoying friends) ask you to __________(fill in thing annoying friends always ask you to go do that you DESPISE doing). Your go-to-excuse will now be: "Oh, we really wish we could, but we can't seem to find a sitter for little Tory Jr."
9) Two Words. . .Maternity Leave.
8) Kids love money and will work for it. . .cheap. Take advantage and have THEM scoop the mountain of dog poop that's been piling up in your yard for the last 6 months. Pay them a nickel to do it.
7) Free Pass: Cat box needs cleaned? FREE PASS. . .the cat urine messes w/ the uterus! Living room needs painted? FREE PASS. . .paint fumes affect a fetus! Loads of laundry needs hauled up and down the basement steps? FREE PASS. . .you really shouldn't lift heavy things after a C-Section! You get the idea. . .
6) All that crap your husband has been hanging on to since high school? You can freely toss it out in the trash & when your husband asks why on earth you would have gotten rid of it, you can smile sweetly and say "Oh, it must have been when I went through one of those cleaning bug moments. I'm sorry."
5) Expectant Mother Parking!
4) NO FOOD RIDICULE: For 10 glorious months you can shove whatever unhealthy food you want in your face and when people look at you in that 'Oh my gosh, I can't believe she's seriously gonna eat ALL of that' way. . .you simply smile and say "Oh, I know I had a double-fudge-brownie-sundae for lunch too, but it's the only thing I can eat right now."
3) License to be witchy: You know all the nasty things you want to say to people in public places? Like when you're standing next to the guy in the grocery store who apparently believes that deodorant is not necessary for proper sanitation? You now are able to guffaw, grimace, pretend to hurl or even go off the deep end and scream at the poor man about how he should not be allowed in public places unless he showers first. . .and it's perfectly acceptable. Get this. . . The other women in the store are ON YOUR SIDE EVEN!!! They'll applaud your outburst & trump that by allowing you a cut in line in front of them b/c "Oh, honey, I remember when I was pregnant. . ."
2) After 10 grueling months you finally birth Tory Jr. Admittedly, you practiced tip #4 a little too frequently. You now have 30 pounds to lose that you can no longer claim is "baby". Don't fret. For the next 6-12 months people will gladly except the excuse that you "just" had a baby. One cautionary note**** it's best not to use this excuse when you have Tory Jr in tow and he's now 2 yrs old.
1) TAX DEDUCTION FOLKS!!! TAX DEDUCTION!!!!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
The Bat Story
This all started a few years ago. Around five years ago to be more specific. My husband and I had just purchased our first home and we were doing some remodeling. It was the norm, you know, fresh paint, new carpeting, light fixtures and the like.
My dear friend from high school, Betsy happened to give me a call that night (or perhaps it was vice versa). It was fairly late when she called, and we had not spoken to one another in some time, so when the clock crept forward, my annoyed husband finally announced that he was going to bed. He left me in the living room downstairs gabbing away about my friend's experience at college and my experience as a fairly-newlywed. We were mid-conversation when all of a sudden I noticed a shadow out of the corner of my eye. By this time it was nearly midnight, if not later. It was dark in the room and frankly, I thought it was my imagination, so I just keep chatting along and convinced myself it was nothing. A minute or so later. . .SWOOP!!! More shadows!!! Now I'm a little freaked and am talking to my friend with my blanket perched high, ready to fight the would-be-ghost if necessary. Then this THING WHIZZES by my head. . . and the dots started finally connecting in my mind. . .
flying. . .
. . .swooping
SHADOW???. . .
HOLY MOTHER OF JEHOSHAPHAT IT'S A.....
BAT!!!!!!!
I don't consider myself a wimp by any means, but but the thought of this THING cohabiting with me was more than I could really handle. I THROW the blanket over my head and begin the typical female response to an unwelcome visitor such as this. . .I SCREAM and I am flouncing around on the couch like a total crazy person. (Because everyone knows that if the bat hears you scream and if you wiggle like a toddler on a pixie-stick-sugar-high that it will be afraid of you and stay away.) The screams must have been muffled by the army of blankets I now have shielding myself from the bat, because my dear husband is still upstairs sleeping soundly. He's not coming to my aid. The whole while, remember, my poor friend Betsy is still on the other end of the phone and I realize, she's talking to me. . . In fact she's in a total state of panic now herself. "ALYSIA!?!?!?!?!? ALYSIA!?!?!? ARE YOU OK?!?!? WHAT'S GOING ON?!?!?! SHOULD I CALL 911?!?!?!?" Then suddenly. Silence. We're disconnected.
All I have to say is God bless this poor girl. We were in theatre together in high school and I know her well. Well enough, in fact, to know that this very millisecond her finger is poised and ready to call 911 and she is scripting out every word spoken for the police b/c they will surely need this evidence to convict the axe-murderer who broke into my home and is raping/killing me. Little does he know she will be the STAR the witness!!! WHAT A STORY!!! (She's a journalism major.) RINNNGGGG!!!! RIIINNNGGGG!!!! Thank Heavens. She is calling ME back rather than the cops. "Besty?" I whisper. "Betsy, listen very carefully. There is bat in my house." Silence. "Betsy? Are you there?" More silence. . .then, a little snicker. Then the little snicker turns to a full haughty laugh. "Betsy. This is NOT a laughing matter. I really need to go." Between her heaving laughs she helpfully suggests that I just wake up Tory and she tells me to call her in the morning. . .if I'm still alive. Hardy-har-har Bestsy. We hang up and I think 'Great idea Einstein. . .but how do you propose I get upstairs without the vampire-bat killing me?'
I decide that I should make Tory come to me. I'm still buried under the covers on the safety of my couch. Laying as flat as humanly possible. "Tory!!!!" I say loudly. (Tory is my husband). "TORY!!" Nothing. Ok, this obviously calls for more gusto. . . "TOOOOOORRRRRYYYYYY!!!!" (This time it really is a scream). That dumb man!!!! He doesn't even hear me!
It's inevitable. I'm going to have to make the long trek upstairs. I carefully slide to the floor with all the blankets over my head and scoot along the living room, through the den and up the stairs. A wave of relief floods over me. I see him!!! I see the blessed security of the bat killer!!!!
I nudge him a little and whisper "Tory wake up." (Dad-gum he must have been tired b/c he normally does not sleep so soundly.) So I SHAKE him! "TORY I NEED YOU!!!!!" A disgruntled, groggy Tory finally opens his eyes. "What?" is his curt reply. "I need your help. There's a bat." "A bat?" he responds. "Are you sure?" "Yes I'm sure. Why else would I wake you up in the middle of the night?" "What do you want me to do?" (I'm now a little irritated. Doesn't he know I've just gone through traumatic shock and HE is my only source of safety?) I brashly respond "What do you THINK I want you to do? I want you to KILL IT!"
Tory drags himself out of bed, goes downstairs and gets the flashlight. I decline accompanying him and stay in the safe haven of the bed with extra covers from downstairs. I hear him padding through the house. Doors opening and shutting one by one. I hear him come back up the stairs. "Are you SURE there was a bat?" I don't SEE a bat!" "Yes I'm SURE!!!" "Come show me where." he responds. I reluctantly follow along, covers in tow, and recreate the dramatic scene for him. His sense of humor returns, and he chuckles slightly at the thought of Betsy thinking I'm being chopped into bits and pieces. We take a tour of the house. Kitchen: no bat. Living room: no bat. Bathroom: no bat. Basement: no bat. Finally realizing the full state of shock I'm in, and that I truly DO believe I've had a run in with Count Dracula, he changes his tone. "Now honey, it's late. Very late. It's dark in the living room. Are you SURE it wasn't just a shadow from car headlights of the neighbors?" "No!!! I am NOT crazy and I am NOT imagining this!!! There was a BAT!!!" "Well, there is no bat now, so let's go to bed." I concede that I am tired and maybe the bat just flew back out the way it came in. Taking his chance to reassure me, my husband agrees, that must be it.
The next day, no bat. The following day, no bat. By the the third day of no bat appearance & Tory politely 'reminding' me each day that I obviously imagined the bat, I'm starting to wonder. Was there really a bat? AM I crazy? Is it possible that it is I, not Besty, who has the overactive imagination?
Day 4: I must preface this by saying that Tory was also at the time a volunteer reserve cop in our town and often had to do bike patrol or some type 'civic duty' in the evenings on weeknights:
I leave for work on day four just like any normal day. By now I'm CERTAIN that I either was crazy or the bat did indeed fly the coop back to it's homeland. After work I head off to the place I volunteer at, do my civic duty and come home dirty and tired. I get onto the mud porch and am about to open the back door to the kitchen when I see it. Through the glass window in the door. A BAT!!! A GARGANTUAN, HUGE, MOTHER-LOVING BAT!!!! Where do you think my husband is?!?!?! Nowhere to be found. Protecting and serving the town of Nappanee when he should be protecting our homestead. I wait until the bat is away from the door and do the most logical thing I can think of at the time. I quickly open it, and call my dog and cat onto the porch with me. (After all, the bat could bite them and they could get rabies.) We sit and we wait. And wait. And wait. Finally I hear Tory pull in. (He later said that it was quite a sight walking towards the mud porch door and seeing all three of our heads dart up so through the window.) "Uh, what are you doing?" he asked. "We're waiting. For you. THERE IS A BAT!!! AND I TOLD YOU THERE WAS ONE!!!! LOOK!!!!!"
Finally. . .the moment I'd been waiting for. . . "Huh? I'll be darned. You were right." (What was that? Could you say it a little louder? Did you just say that I WAS RIGHT?!?!?) "No time for apologies just kill it!"
So he marches in, fully armored (literally) in his bullet proof vest & police garb. I'd like to say that he whipped out his Glach and shot it, but truthfully, the killing of the bat only involved a tennis racket. Afterwards, as I peered into the trash sack where it's little, lifeless body lay, there was only one thing left to say. . . ."Awwww, it's so small. I kinda' feel sorry for the little fella'."
With a massive roll of his eyes my husband dumped the bat in the trash can. Safety, peace and order once again decended upon the Lutz household.
It was later determined that the bat must have gained entry through a hole in the ceiling where a light fixture was missing b/c we had not put the new one up yet. That mistake was never again repeated.
My dear friend from high school, Betsy happened to give me a call that night (or perhaps it was vice versa). It was fairly late when she called, and we had not spoken to one another in some time, so when the clock crept forward, my annoyed husband finally announced that he was going to bed. He left me in the living room downstairs gabbing away about my friend's experience at college and my experience as a fairly-newlywed. We were mid-conversation when all of a sudden I noticed a shadow out of the corner of my eye. By this time it was nearly midnight, if not later. It was dark in the room and frankly, I thought it was my imagination, so I just keep chatting along and convinced myself it was nothing. A minute or so later. . .SWOOP!!! More shadows!!! Now I'm a little freaked and am talking to my friend with my blanket perched high, ready to fight the would-be-ghost if necessary. Then this THING WHIZZES by my head. . . and the dots started finally connecting in my mind. . .
flying. . .
. . .swooping
SHADOW???. . .
HOLY MOTHER OF JEHOSHAPHAT IT'S A.....
BAT!!!!!!!
I don't consider myself a wimp by any means, but but the thought of this THING cohabiting with me was more than I could really handle. I THROW the blanket over my head and begin the typical female response to an unwelcome visitor such as this. . .I SCREAM and I am flouncing around on the couch like a total crazy person. (Because everyone knows that if the bat hears you scream and if you wiggle like a toddler on a pixie-stick-sugar-high that it will be afraid of you and stay away.) The screams must have been muffled by the army of blankets I now have shielding myself from the bat, because my dear husband is still upstairs sleeping soundly. He's not coming to my aid. The whole while, remember, my poor friend Betsy is still on the other end of the phone and I realize, she's talking to me. . . In fact she's in a total state of panic now herself. "ALYSIA!?!?!?!?!? ALYSIA!?!?!? ARE YOU OK?!?!? WHAT'S GOING ON?!?!?! SHOULD I CALL 911?!?!?!?" Then suddenly. Silence. We're disconnected.
All I have to say is God bless this poor girl. We were in theatre together in high school and I know her well. Well enough, in fact, to know that this very millisecond her finger is poised and ready to call 911 and she is scripting out every word spoken for the police b/c they will surely need this evidence to convict the axe-murderer who broke into my home and is raping/killing me. Little does he know she will be the STAR the witness!!! WHAT A STORY!!! (She's a journalism major.) RINNNGGGG!!!! RIIINNNGGGG!!!! Thank Heavens. She is calling ME back rather than the cops. "Besty?" I whisper. "Betsy, listen very carefully. There is bat in my house." Silence. "Betsy? Are you there?" More silence. . .then, a little snicker. Then the little snicker turns to a full haughty laugh. "Betsy. This is NOT a laughing matter. I really need to go." Between her heaving laughs she helpfully suggests that I just wake up Tory and she tells me to call her in the morning. . .if I'm still alive. Hardy-har-har Bestsy. We hang up and I think 'Great idea Einstein. . .but how do you propose I get upstairs without the vampire-bat killing me?'
I decide that I should make Tory come to me. I'm still buried under the covers on the safety of my couch. Laying as flat as humanly possible. "Tory!!!!" I say loudly. (Tory is my husband). "TORY!!" Nothing. Ok, this obviously calls for more gusto. . . "TOOOOOORRRRRYYYYYY!!!!" (This time it really is a scream). That dumb man!!!! He doesn't even hear me!
It's inevitable. I'm going to have to make the long trek upstairs. I carefully slide to the floor with all the blankets over my head and scoot along the living room, through the den and up the stairs. A wave of relief floods over me. I see him!!! I see the blessed security of the bat killer!!!!
I nudge him a little and whisper "Tory wake up." (Dad-gum he must have been tired b/c he normally does not sleep so soundly.) So I SHAKE him! "TORY I NEED YOU!!!!!" A disgruntled, groggy Tory finally opens his eyes. "What?" is his curt reply. "I need your help. There's a bat." "A bat?" he responds. "Are you sure?" "Yes I'm sure. Why else would I wake you up in the middle of the night?" "What do you want me to do?" (I'm now a little irritated. Doesn't he know I've just gone through traumatic shock and HE is my only source of safety?) I brashly respond "What do you THINK I want you to do? I want you to KILL IT!"
Tory drags himself out of bed, goes downstairs and gets the flashlight. I decline accompanying him and stay in the safe haven of the bed with extra covers from downstairs. I hear him padding through the house. Doors opening and shutting one by one. I hear him come back up the stairs. "Are you SURE there was a bat?" I don't SEE a bat!" "Yes I'm SURE!!!" "Come show me where." he responds. I reluctantly follow along, covers in tow, and recreate the dramatic scene for him. His sense of humor returns, and he chuckles slightly at the thought of Betsy thinking I'm being chopped into bits and pieces. We take a tour of the house. Kitchen: no bat. Living room: no bat. Bathroom: no bat. Basement: no bat. Finally realizing the full state of shock I'm in, and that I truly DO believe I've had a run in with Count Dracula, he changes his tone. "Now honey, it's late. Very late. It's dark in the living room. Are you SURE it wasn't just a shadow from car headlights of the neighbors?" "No!!! I am NOT crazy and I am NOT imagining this!!! There was a BAT!!!" "Well, there is no bat now, so let's go to bed." I concede that I am tired and maybe the bat just flew back out the way it came in. Taking his chance to reassure me, my husband agrees, that must be it.
The next day, no bat. The following day, no bat. By the the third day of no bat appearance & Tory politely 'reminding' me each day that I obviously imagined the bat, I'm starting to wonder. Was there really a bat? AM I crazy? Is it possible that it is I, not Besty, who has the overactive imagination?
Day 4: I must preface this by saying that Tory was also at the time a volunteer reserve cop in our town and often had to do bike patrol or some type 'civic duty' in the evenings on weeknights:
I leave for work on day four just like any normal day. By now I'm CERTAIN that I either was crazy or the bat did indeed fly the coop back to it's homeland. After work I head off to the place I volunteer at, do my civic duty and come home dirty and tired. I get onto the mud porch and am about to open the back door to the kitchen when I see it. Through the glass window in the door. A BAT!!! A GARGANTUAN, HUGE, MOTHER-LOVING BAT!!!! Where do you think my husband is?!?!?! Nowhere to be found. Protecting and serving the town of Nappanee when he should be protecting our homestead. I wait until the bat is away from the door and do the most logical thing I can think of at the time. I quickly open it, and call my dog and cat onto the porch with me. (After all, the bat could bite them and they could get rabies.) We sit and we wait. And wait. And wait. Finally I hear Tory pull in. (He later said that it was quite a sight walking towards the mud porch door and seeing all three of our heads dart up so through the window.) "Uh, what are you doing?" he asked. "We're waiting. For you. THERE IS A BAT!!! AND I TOLD YOU THERE WAS ONE!!!! LOOK!!!!!"
Finally. . .the moment I'd been waiting for. . . "Huh? I'll be darned. You were right." (What was that? Could you say it a little louder? Did you just say that I WAS RIGHT?!?!?) "No time for apologies just kill it!"
So he marches in, fully armored (literally) in his bullet proof vest & police garb. I'd like to say that he whipped out his Glach and shot it, but truthfully, the killing of the bat only involved a tennis racket. Afterwards, as I peered into the trash sack where it's little, lifeless body lay, there was only one thing left to say. . . ."Awwww, it's so small. I kinda' feel sorry for the little fella'."
With a massive roll of his eyes my husband dumped the bat in the trash can. Safety, peace and order once again decended upon the Lutz household.
It was later determined that the bat must have gained entry through a hole in the ceiling where a light fixture was missing b/c we had not put the new one up yet. That mistake was never again repeated.
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