For you, my demanding fans

I feel like Monica in that Friends episode where she makes some candy for her neighbors, as a friendly gesture, and in return, they all harass her for more candy for the remainder of the episode. (It’s called The One with All the Candy, if you want to watch it. Or, call me up, and I’ll recite it pretty much verbatim.)

Anyway, I really appreciate your harassment. Truly, I’m flattered. And in response to your threats, I’m here again to tell you about the minutiae of my day.

I had a bug-free breakfast with Grandma and Sandy, and then I listened to Pandora all day long, while working on an assignment for work. Yes, I already have an assignment! How cool am I?

Then, I went to a meeting for work – not because my important presence was required at said meeting, but because it was an opportunity for me to shadow another staff member and meet people.

This staff member picked me up for the meeting around 5, and when she did, it was drizzling outside, so I dashed to the car to avoid letting my new hair become frizzy. (I got a hair cut yesterday.)

As I slid into the safety of the car and slammed the door shut, I patted at my hair like a princess and reveled in my victory. Then, as we began driving along, I felt myself still being rained on. 

Instant panic.

I glanced around and saw a stream of water flowing into the car through a small space by the door. The stream of water was landing perfectly on my skirt and splashing the rest of me as it did so.

Seeing this, I reacted with a jolt, unable to maintain my composure in the face of such disaster. We considered stopping for some paper towels, but I decided to be a hero and forgo such a sensible solution. Instead, I spent the car ride leaning sharply in her direction, planting my hand in the path of the stream and redirecting the water elsewhere.

After the meeting, I came home, famished, and fixed myself dinner – a bowl of Special K Chocolatey Delight cereal and two pieces of toast with Nutella. (I know. I was too hungry to think about nutrition. I just started eating.)

I move to D.C. on Sunday! Omigod, you guys.

Raise your hand if you got a job yesterday

Meeee. I got a job yesterday! Aaaah! Excited, nervous, do I get business cards?! I’m going to D.C. in two weeks. What books should I bring with me? Must get new purse. Must get hair cut. Shoes?!?! Must mail check to future place of residence. Must contact people I know in D.C. and plant seeds of friendship. Must ask Mom and Dad to take care of my betta fish. (They'll be so thrilled.) Aaah, I got a job. I’m a real person now! I’m no longer scared of the question, “So, what are you doing these days?” “Actually, I have one of those job things.” Aaaah! I am so legit. Too legit to quit … because I have a job. Job job job job job. What if I’m terrible? Must bring tennis shoes for daily morning workout. (Haha.) Must go shopping at Filene’s Basement when I get to D.C. Must save money to visit Meryl in France. Must be responsible, mature adult. Must grow out my short, boyish fingernails. Must pack magnet from Mom that says,“I was never meant to work.”

Fine dining

I had a near-death experience on Friday.

I went to lunch with Grandma and Sandy. I ordered the Mahi Mahi, and so did they. Little did I know as the waiter placed our meals in front of us, my dish was drastically different from either of theirs.

The fish had seasoning covering the top of it – bits of parsley, pepper and dark unidentifiable objects, all of which I assumed were food.

While naively participating in pleasant conversation with Grandma and Sandy, I brought one of the last spoonfuls of my fish up to my mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed … an antenna-like thing, poking out from the lump of food on my fork.

I calmly examined this antenna-like thing, convincing myself it was only part of the seasoning. I removed the antenna-like thing, and, along with it, the body of the bug that I nearly consumed.

Alarmed, I showed Grandma and Sandy. I shuddered and thought the unthinkable. I was so close to eating that bug and consequently collapsing to my death.

I placed the bug on my napkin, while Grandma and Sandy inspected the remainder of their food and cautiously continued to eat. The nice waiter soon came to visit us and asked how everything was. … I pointed to my napkin and told him I thought I found a bug. He whisked the napkin away, and, while scurrying out of the room, said he’d show his manager and bring me a new plate. I hesitated, pathetically, knowing I was full but also that I deserved another plate of food.

I recovered from my tragedy fairly well, eating the second piece of fish in a matter of seconds (after scraping off the seasoning). I began to see the silver lining – bug = free food. So, next time I see a spider running around my house, I’m going to scoop him up, put him in my pocket and head to Chili’s.

Kidding. I would never touch a bug.

Business is booming

Update from the Schott house:

We have four barbecue pits in the backyard, not including our own. Until yesterday, we also had a canopy swing and a doghouse back there (Fun trivia: the Schotts don’t have a dog.) We’ve also spotted two rats in the garage, crawling around the ping-pong tables that aren’t ours. I’ve spotted another salamander, too, but that’s not related to the other things I’ve mentioned.

Frequent blog-readers may have figured out the reason for this by now. (For those of you who haven’t, read my blog more.) These items – found in other people’s trash – are part of my brothers’ collection of items to be sold on Craigslist.

Sitting in the kitchen yesterday, I saw a dog running around the backyard. I then saw Tyler and some strange man talking near the doghouse. Being the salesman that he is, Tyler struck a deal, and the strange man walked away with the doghouse and the canopy swing. (Tyler was later scolded for allowing a strange man from Craigslist to come to our house.)

My parents are currently in California. My mom had a lawyers’ conference to attend, and my dad’s never been to San Francisco, so he tagged along. While Mom is attending lectures, I imagine Dad is a lone but happy tourist, riding the trolley and asking strangers to take his picture.

Mom asked my grandma and aunt to come stay at our house. (Mom, I forgot to tell you ­– I’m 22. And the boys are 17.) Nevertheless, we’re behaving very well for Grandma and Sandy and having a grand old time. Last night, we went out to eat, and Grandma and Sandy asked me the same questions every few minutes. “Do they always fight so much?” “Are they always so loud?” Yes and yes. Just ignore the stares from the other tables. You’ll get used to it. Or you’ll sit through dinner making a constant “shhh” noise, only pausing to breathe and take bites of your food.

After dinner, we played Scrabble. I WON. Heard that, Mom? I’m still the champion.

Now, Grandma’s cooking dinner, and I’m browsing the Scrabble dictionary. (Kidding. I don’t do that … anymore.)

At a loss for words

Before I tell you my story today, there’s some background information you need to know:

I am really incredible at Scrabble.

That said, my mother asked me this morning if I’d like to play Scrabble with her.

Naively flattered that my mom wanted to spend time with me, I agreed. Little did I know, all she really wanted to do was see if she could kick my ass.

See, my mom and I played Scrabble a couple of weeks ago, and it was brutal. I won by about 50 points. My mom has also heard many tales of my Scrabble skills, from Andrew and my brothers, who I defeat often and without remorse and who whine about my awesomeness every time I suggest a game.

After last week’s game, my defeated mother comforted herself.

Mom: Well, I won the 8^th grade Scrabble tournament.

Sam: Yeah, but I didn’t play in that tournament.

Mom: Well, I beat Sam Kellar. He was really smart.

Sam: Ha. You didn’t beat Sam Schott.

(No wonder she wanted to kick my ass.)

So my mom and I began our friendly game around 10 or so, and as the hours passed, the game became less friendly and more fierce. Each time I played a word my mom had never heard of, she rolled her eyes and laughed, which I interpreted as, “That’s not a word, but I’ll let you have it.”

The game was neck and neck the whole time, although every time my dad asked the score, my mom happened to be winning. I then had to say, “Well, Mom’s winning right now, but I was winning two minutes ago.”

My mom played QUOTA for 20-something points, which I followed with a 20-something EX, strategically using a Double Letter Score. Mom played FAIRY, I played JAM; Mom played VIBE, I played EH (which was met with an eye roll and a laugh).

As the game was winding down (and Dad had taken a permanent interest in the game, hovering over the board and glancing at our letters), Mom was at 275, and I was at 272. Mom had four letters left, while I had two. Mom played MOO for 11 points, putting her at 286 and down to one letter. So, my only chance at winning was to use both of my low-point letters and try to earn a decent amount of points. After scouring the board and seeing almost nothing, I took a chance. I added a D to SCOPE, also forming the (possible) word NID and the (possible) word DUM.

(I know, I know, it was the best I could do.)

Mom challenged, of course, after a debate over whether she had to select one of my questionable words to challenge or she could look up all three. After consulting Dad for a verdict, she picked one, and she picked the one I also would have picked: NID.

The Scrabble gods were not on my side, and NID was not listed in my New and Improved 4^th Edition Scrabble Dictionary. I gracefully accepted my defeat, surprised to see how excited Mom was to have beaten me. Until this point, I didn’t realize she was so invested in our fun little game.

After some taunting, she went to the bottom of the stairs to yell to Tyler and Trevor that they needed to take out the trash or something. She then asked what they were doing. Then, she said what she really wanted to say.

“Oh, also, I beat Sam in Scrabble!”

An hour later, Mom decided, in the middle of a TV show, to leave the couch, walk over to my room, interrupt my reading, and remind me that she’d just defeated me in Scrabble.

Yeah, yeah, you think you’re so smart, eh?!

Now, Tyler and I are considering playing a game, but Tyler doesn’t want to play unless Mom does. Mom, however, is declining our invitation, saying she doesn’t want to play me again, ever. She wants to bask in her win for the rest of our lives.

This should only further prove to you how awesome I am at Scrabble and how rare it is for me to be defeated.

It's a jungle out there

I walked into the kitchen last night to grab a snack and before I could make it to the pantry, a tiny bizarre-looking lizard raced across the floor. I immediately fled the kitchen, as it would clearly be dangerous for both this creature and myself to be in the kitchen at the same time. I called my brother and asked him to come take care of this intruder.

Reluctantly, Tyler came downstairs.

(Trevor didn’t budge, but we didn’t expect him to. Trevor once saw a bug in his bathroom upstairs and then proceeded to use the downstairs bathroom for a week, before finally finding the courage to open his bathroom door again.)

After a few minutes of crouching in the kitchen, Tyler couldn’t find it, and I couldn’t say where it had gone because I fled the scene so quickly. So, I sat in the living room and thought about the Teddy Grahams I now craved even more.

A little while later, my dad came home from the Saints game. I told him to be careful walking in the kitchen because there was a strange lizard crawling around. (I really didn’t get a good look at it. I just saw some variation of brown and green colors and a little tail zigzagging out of control.)

My dad insisted we find it, so I began cautiously looking around the kitchen, wearing my mom’s shoes. I spotted it pretty quickly and pointed it out to my dad.

My dad saw the dangerous creature and reacted somewhat excitedly.

Dad: Sam, that’s a salamander! These are nice little creatures. They eat other bugs.

Oh, okay. Well, let him carry on running around the kitchen then.

While Dad caught it and took it outside, I grabbed the box of Teddy Grahams.