Cats Compensate Change

No, I'm not dripping with diamonds and pearls. And no, I'm not begging on the streets. Though, I might as well have been that day in early August. I was dripping in change.

I was planning to go to the Strand Bookstore, to buy Middlesex and a comic book for Cassidy. I was also going to go meet my friend, who likes cats. I lost track of time and realized I was running a litter late. (Pun intended). I threw on my shoes, grabbed my phone, a jacket, and looked inside my wallet.


I had been gone for a month and a half and forgot that I brought all my money with me, only to be spent on a cheap ring, and a lot of chocolate milk. Oh, and an Arizona Iced tea in Arizona. I know, I know, actually the coolest thing. Anyway, there I was, running late, home alone, poor as a chicken.

So of course I called my mom. But neither my mom nor dad had any money around the house for me to use on books. I, at that point most likely on the floor crying to myself, all of a sudden was hit with an idea.

The bucket.
Or buckets,
of random change throughout the house.

I went scavenging throughout the apartment and eventually found seven dollar bills, an assortment of quarters, dimes, and nickels.

So there I was, running through the streets, sounding and looking quite homeless, with a mesmerized smirk on my face.

I took the subway
I found the Strand
I entered the Strand
I found the books
I got in line
I got to the cashier
I realized how painfully hilarious my next move had to be

"I'm really sorry but I'm going to have to pay for these books with change..."

She gave me a blank stare that reminded me of my cousin who is somewhat notorious for that.

"I counted it though. It amounts to $32.76."

Another blank stare. She counted the seven dollars and picked up a quarter.

That's when I started making comments like

"I'm so sorry about this, really I am"

"Oh wow sorry"


The long line seemed to be growling at me

She kept counting and I kept fidgeting with my wallet. Then I started to fidget with my notebook. Aha, yes a solution, I could give her a cute little postcard!

In my notebook I kept a stack of memorabilia from my trip. So, I started shuffling through it. There was one with an old man on it adorned with bright colors and a toothy grin. Above him read the words WE WANT YOU! FOR SHROOMFEST!

Aha, no.

The next was a picture of a cat. It was a delicate illustration on yellowing paper with pencil. I observed the scene. Here I was, watching as the cashier counted my change, holding a picture of a cat and contemplating whether or not I should give it to her.

I waited.
I was five cents short. I added a few more awkward "ehh, ah, oh, yea, that's all the money I have..."

She let it slide. Didn't say anything though. Gave me another blank stare.

I don't know what it was, or why I didn't do it, but I left the store with the picture of the cat in my hands.

I ended up giving it to my friend.


Mouse In Boot

I wish I could tell you the story I am about to tell you is not as bad as the title suggests. But I really can't. I really, really, just sadly absolutely cannot. It is horrible. It is true. It will give you nightmares, it will make you forget what it is to want to eat food. It will very easily convince you that staying in a little clean bathroom, without windows is a good idea, because it is horrible.

Now that was, of course, a bit of an exaggeration, simply because I live in a city and I am not used to mice. So yes, to me it is horrible, this story I am about to tell you, but of course you may think, "Ha! The wimp!" And well, it's okay I'm expecting it.

It was a windy day. Actually, no I have no recollection of the weather because this was what? Three months ago? Okay, so I have no idea what the weather was... But you know, sometimes it is just nice to add in those little details so as to create a setting and then oh I don't know, intensify the suspense.

OOOO the wind howled in my ears. The sky was dark, the sun had set, the stars were no where to be seen.

Okay, I'll stop.

I was in a garage. I know that isn't as scary as being in the middle of a dark forest, the moon lost amist the sky, but it's the truth so I gotta stick to it.

A garage. And on a trailer-like thingamagigy. I was trying on skiing boots because I was going to go - take a guess. Good. Now, I didn't have my own skiis with me because I was in Vermont and I usually go skiing in Massachussets, so I was trying on someone else's skis that I was going to borrow. I placed my foot inside the boot. I tried to force my foot in but there seemed to be something at the bottom.

No biggy.
Probably just a piece of paper, or a rock, or something...

I reached down into the boot.
I pulled something up.

It was really grey, and rough, and looked like one of those things you clean dishes with that are metalic and hairy looking? (Does anyone have any idea what I'm talking about?) Steel Wool.

The moment was quick. I looked at my friends uncle with a look of pure disgust. What the heck is this?   By the look of his face I should not have asked. But I did anyway. Of course I did.

I threw it to the ground.

"What was that?" I asked.

He said, "You don't want to know..."

"Was that a mouse?"

I didn't need to see him nod to know that it was a mouse.
Are you screaming yet?

Well, that's all I have to share for today. I'd appreciate you trying to top my mouse experience...


Invisible Neighbor Takes New Action

Please pardon if my writing seems to be proper I am in the middle of reading Pride and Prejudice and must confess I am being transformed into an aristocrat.

Oh what a pity it is to find alas my life of war to be over! The time has come for me to cease the endless undeclared war between me and my neighbor! For my neighbor has, quite unfortunately, made a peace offering. To what of which that is I shall explain, if only you will listen. And do not forget the past acts of war that were taken against me in the past, observe here and here.

I was walking, jolly, with prudent intentions, to dispose of my garbage as fast as possible when a sudden realization disturbed my countenance. The toilet was in my house and I earnestly required it. I dropped the garbage can and sprinted to my residence, passing dear sister on the way in.

        "Cassidy, dearest I must occupy the washroom!"

        "Right away, dear!" She responded with intent concern.

When I was ready I headed back out the door, walking with the intention of finishing the job I started. But as I looked ahead of me to the spot of which I let rest my can of garbage, I found only an empty space. I stopped.

Alas! I was frightened! Did someone steal my dear garbage can? 

I hurried to open the garbage room door with fear of it being too late. The door handle was quite dirty I must say, this is courage I display.

Inside the garbage room sat a perfectly luxurious garbage can completely intact. It was mine and I was saved!

But here comes the part of which there is fear. Fear only because it is so strange. So very strange, however benevolent, I was frightened.

As I looked inside the garbage can I observed ever single peace of garbage to be missing. And as I looked inside of the recycling bins it was there my garbage lay. I stood there with my eyes wide for minutes.

What ever could this mean? 

My neighbor disposed of my garbage during my swift absence. That was all it could mean. And after what feels like years of war between this invisible neighbor, I realized it was all over. However fun the experience was, it is and will always be over.  And for that I will be ever grateful. This was a noble deed of my neighbor, of whose identity I still do not know, but I thank him or her dearly in my heart.

The war is over, my friends.
The struggle has passed.
There may be peace.
Glory be to the name of I
and to Neighbor.

Till we meet again.


Scuba Diving Dilemma

No... That's not me.

I wish. 

But pace our beliefs you cannot just grab a snorkeling kit jump in the water and make buddies with a whale. Chances are you will run out of air and want a scuba tank, chances are you will also have no clue how in the world you are going to use the scuba tank.

I've had the urge to learn how to scuba dive for a while now (meaning pretty much my entire life), and I finally signed up for a scuba diving open water certification.  I thought about it for weeks, although the actual decision to do the class was spontaneous. I was walking down the street and finally forced myself to go inside and sign up even though I was by myself. See the reality of the situation was... I mentioned the class to many of my friends but none of them were genuinely interested. They would just kind of nod their head and say.. oooh... cool. yea.. well I'm scared of um... water. Or, I don't like the ocean. Or scuba diving is one of those things I just don't ever want to do ever. Or, YES ! I really want to! But then never follow through when I keep bugging them about it. So after a while I just kind of gave up and decided to just do it by myself. It's okay you don't have to cry.

But when I got to the class after paying the friggin fee and buying the equiptment I found out the reality of the class... The class consists of four meetings (I knew that), but what I didn't know was that at the end of the four classes you are not handed a certificate and sent off into the world. Oh no. You get a little permission thingy that allows you to take four open water dives in the real world. And only AFTER the four dives do you get the open water certificate. Now this seems fine until you hear the next part. This little  "permission thingy" expires after one year. The certificate doesn't expire but in order to get the certificate for the rest of my life I  have to do four open water dives in the next year or this class doesn't even matter. 

That's the problem. (Why is this a problem you ask?) I don't have any scuba diving plans for the next year to get in these certified four dives!

Now, at this point I was basically peeing in my pants. I was like- WAIIT A SECC... I THOUGHT I WAS JUST LEARNING TO SCUBA DIVE!!! While these thoughts were racing through my mind everyone at the class was going around in a circle saying "Hi, My name is Martin. I am going to Hawaii in two weeks that is why I am here." "Hello, My name is Nicole, I am going to Burmuda in three weeks.... that is why I am here." When it came up to me I was like, "Um oh hello yes I am lily I am uh... uh... GOING TO A SCUBADIVING CAMP THAT REQUIRES THIS CERITIFCATION?" except I most definitely am not going to a 6000 dollar scuba diving camp.

So then the instructor started talking and talking and I went back to my darn rapid water fall of thoughts in my wee brain thinking, "HOLEY POOP WHAT THE HECK AM I GOING TO DO?" I was thinking... Well... Maybe I can just jump in the hudson river by myself four times and call it a day. But then I snapped myself out of it and carried on with my ideas.

1) I actually find a reasonably priced scuba diving camp.
2) I convince a close friend of mine who might have a scuba diving relative to do the class with me and take me with her and her family on four dives. hahaha good luck lily...

3) convince my family to get certified and we all go somewhere and go diving.
4) do this class... and spend the next year looking for scuba diving opportunities like a mad man until I finally complete four somehow... Maybe I can even go in Pennsylvania or something... 
5) Try to convince my instructor to let me postpone my class until I actually have a place to scuba dive.

And well, that's the current dilemma. Any advice? 
Thanks fellers!
Sorry I haven't written in forever! CHOWWWWDER! 


Stuck in Nantucket Rain

          Once upon a beautiful afternoon in Nantucket I decided to take a walk along the bluff with my sketch book. I was walking and quite slowly at that, when I felt a little pitter patter on my head, nose, and forehead. Raindrops fell slowly with the wind and didn't frighten me too extremely. Then it starting to pour. And I was stuck- quite literally under a bush. 
          The only thing holding me back from enjoying the weather was the fact that I had a very important sketch book with me, yet after what felt like hours,  I decided it could take it. I ran home soaked and documented the adventure on a moist sketchbook page here: 
As you can see the pen was dying. Poor fella.


Teenager chooses typewriter over iPad


I've had Night Moon ( right)  for 4 years.
I've had Tom Thumb (middle) for a while, only I didn't know it. He was hiding in the hallway closet.
I've had Blue Jay (left) for around three or four months.

The day has come, that iPads roam the earth. Okay no, not quite yet. Scientists are still in their labs attaching legs to computers and giving them brains to see if they can think on their own. Soon enough this experiment will deem successful and there is no turning back, computers will  take us over. But until then, we have iPads. And after iPads we have iPad2s!

See, I can't deny loving iPads. They are so fun. They are so fun! You can put your finger on the screen and move it around and then wooosh, it moves things around, and I can play solitaire on it, and I can read my email on it, and I can like... do my homework on it. Or read articles on it, or read BOOKS on it. I love the iPad I do, but I love the past more.

Huh? What do you mean Master Lily? The past? Like... past? The past as in white wigs? To which I answer, "Kind of... kind of..." See, it is not as though I see wearing wigs as a treasure at all. I personally do not feel like wigs are all the comfortable, and white isn't my color, but see, at the same time, I think what is interesting is the way things were done in the past. The present is all about what is convenient, but if convenient means zooming away in an ugly aerodynamic car, then I'd rather ride a beautiful 1930's car. Although that of course has a much worse gas mileage... So never mind, I'd just rather not drive a car. But I'd rather look at an antique car, and I'd rather live in a society with beautiful cars (and only some people own them) than a world where practically everyone owns a car, that may have better gas mileage then the cars from 60 years ago, but because everyone has it, the outcome is even worse for the environment. We don't need cars gosh darn it! Ride your friggin bicycle!

If convenient means typing on a computer and pressing print, I'd rather have fun on a typewriter. Of course, someone who actually lived when typewriters were around might as well call me mad, because I am merely interested in something I am not used to. If I had grown up with typewriters I'd probably be typing a letter to my friend complaining, "Can you imagine our parents used to write letters on paper with a quill? That seems so much better... "

I guess what I'm trying to say is I am falling into the "I wish I didn't live in this time" trap. Just like in the movie Midnight in Paris. Everyone wants the past because it is more interesting. I feel like in the past people thought more and people were more interesting, but chances are there were people thinking the same thing in the past. We are merely hard to please... But YES... I'd rather not get sucked into the technologies of today, but rather explore and try to understand how people used to get by. I want to write more, read more, exercise more, sing more, act more, play music more, have fun more, and I think typewriters are fun! And iPads, although they are beautiful and convenient and lovely to most people, are to me an obstacle and distraction from other things. If I had already lived a life of typewriters things may be different, but for the time being I am interested in typewriters more than iPads that may or may not develop legs.


Don't forget the alarm clock

See, I am guilty of being very much a sloppy dope. 
So sorry to disregard the faith you have in my challenges, but you should have taken the hint when I didn't write a bunch... The thing is... I've been waking up at 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 7, 6, 10, 11, 10, 7, 8, 5, 6, 7, 7, 6, 5. Inconsistently, and NOT like a 5am challenge. 


But of course, I am full of excuses... See, it all started with the break... I went skiing with my friend Megan, and well I had to live life as a bum who wakes up at 10. (no offense meg.) No matter how many times I tried to wake her up early it didn't work! In fact, I got myself a beating. It's called the silent treatment and glares. See, I thought it would be a good idea to get up at 6 instead of 6:30 to go skiing. (Just getting slightly closer to that 5 am mark.) So I set the alarm to 6am. 
Only thing was it was her alarm. And although I told her I set it, I hadn't quite mentioned I set it 30 minutes early. And well, it turns out she never even heard that I had set the alarm, so no one bothered to take the phone upstairs. --BIG MISTAKE-- 

I'm a deep sleeper so come 6am the entire household was awoken except for me. And Megan went down "in the dark" to turn off the obnoxious, rapidly increasing in volume shock of a noise. NEVER steal sleep from megamoo. 
Never again, I told myself. See, it was a trap! Those beautiful few days in Vermont. I got to ski, but I didn't get to wake up at 5. 
Yet tata! No fear! I am back in the ZOOOOONEEEEE! 
Tomorrow it starts again. 
I am meeting my bud Lola to play ukelele a few hours before school starts at 6:30am.:) 
It'll be fun cause we don't play the ukelele... 
Until we meet again when I get the energy to write down my winter break adventures.... 

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