I must have a bungled psychic connection with my family. Twice yesterday I got semi-frantic calls from my parental units. The calls came from S.K. Dad and Maaa who, many of you may know, have been divorced for well over 20 years now. Curiously, without consulting each other, and of their own accord, the two both tried to reach out and touch someone – aka me.

This is weird, because I haven’t called S.K. from Va since, oh, maybe last October? And Maaa never calls during the week – she is busy with church, class, etc. Maaa and I usually converse via email, and every other week we heat up the phone lines with our lengthy yammering sessions.

Maaa’s message came about 10pm HT (Hänni Time). As there is a four hour time zone difference, it was only about 6 MT (Maaa Time). She sounded very panicked on the phone, saying someone had called and left the lonely word, “Mom”, on her answering machine. It could have been either me or Spank, but she was sure it was me. She said I should call her this weekend.

She called me “precious girl”.

I love Mom.

So S.K. called earlier that day at like 2:30 HT, which if you do the math kids, it’s about 11:30 SKT. He called and said he “just felt” that he had to talk to me, and was hoping I was okay. In addition to S.K.’s excellent beer drinking, fishing, and kilt-wearing skills, S.K. has also been known to have psychic premonitions reminscent of America’s favorite clairvoyant, Miss Cleo.

Before hanging up S.K. called me “Sugar Pie”

I must be a precious sugar pie – type girl. Yay!

So anyway, as they both left phone messages, I haven’t talked to either in person. My life is not particularly heinous right now, save the fact that I am actually *excited* about eating at Diarreatrick tonight (for free brownie sundaes, wild horses couldn’t keep me away).

And now I’m all nervous from these calls. All these things are running through my head like is something going to happen to me? Why am I suddenly getting phone messages asking if I’m okay? Am i projecting negative energy? If so, can I learn to channel that energy to defeat my enemies? Can I learn to channel that energy into telekinesis? Will the telekinetic powers render me capable of reaching my remote control off the tv from the comfort of my twin-sized bed? Have I gone too far? Is this too much?

Today, for the first time in months, I went to the post office. I had to. Apparently, the punishment for delinquent payment on my $2.22 phone bill is a referral to a collection agency of Virginia Tech’s choosing, and a nice little memo to the IRS.

That being said, I flew like an eagle to the nearest USPS.

While there I had a few other things to attend to, which I had also been putting off. The following is a list of items that includes, but is not limited to, the sum total of things sent by post this sunny Thurs.:

* Aunty Linda’s Christmas coasters (already two months late!)
* Kawamoto Otosan’s (Japanese host father) Alaska Magazine w/ complimentary calendar
* Engagement announcement to Anchorage Daily News
* Box o’ goodies to maaaa and popi in the frozen north
* $197.90 credit card bill for essentials (books and underwear from the UK)

The total expenditure for the shipping this pre St. Valentine?s Day Massacre: $23.55!

I don?t know what part of ?the cheapest shipping? the disgruntled postal worker, with her feathered hair do, couldn?t understand.

Because I forgot to tape maaa and popi?s box o? tricks at home, I had to use the priority tape lying on the counter at the USPS. Apparently, because it had said tape on it, the aforementioned box had to be shipped priority, at the ungodly rate of $6.00 for a box the size of a 10 pack of hostess cupcakes!

The same thing happened with Aunty Linda’s coasters, which, as previously mentioned, were already several months late.

In any event, the icing on the cake of disgust came when, upon asking for a new book of stamps, Feather-Fro slaps the “antique toy” collection down in front of me. I wanted something cute – the fruit, the botanicals, maybe even a special valentine stamp with cupid and hearts on it. What did I get? Ugly ass box-car looking things.

She didn?t even give me a choice. And I thought I lived in a freakin? democracy.

Am exhausted by my experience, and will now resign myself to the comfort of my velvet duvet, a cup of tea, and book where the heroine is even screwier than I am!

Well here I am at the Alaskan hacienda. Miss Lizzy is snoring at my feet. She has her “birdy” gripped firmly between her teeth, and she’s giving me the wild eye – the old one-eye-wide-eyed bit. Gosh this dog is the cutest ~ mayhaps will pack her in my suitcase and ship her to VA.

I’ve been home for about five days, and it’s been a whirlwind. I’ve been shopping, shopping, shopping, coffeeing with friends, playing with puppies, baking cakes and pies, wrapping, wrapping, wrapping, cleaning and camera-ing. Apparently Mom won her hot new digital camera at the company christmas party. It is a cannon power shot A40, and was begging to be used. Mom and CG Dad hadn’t even opened the cutey camera before I got home. When asked why the cannon was still in it’s packaging, CG Dad mumbled something about it won’t work with our computer.

hrrumph. That sounded like a challenge. And so, like the private investigator who cracks the case, I fiddled and fiddled till some pictures, the camera did produce. Unfortunately I don’t know if our computer has a USB port, cause I’m retarded about hardware deals. But as soon as I get some pics uploaded, I’ll be sure to post a few here at the house. Rejoice!

Awww it’s so good to be home, and being with the fam. only reinforces my weirdness; i am certainly a product of my environment.

Case in point: Mom and i are cleaning out the laundry room when Mom cries “This is my new decoration!” and pulls a six foot tall cardboard cutout of Bartles and James from a basket. Bartles and James have been decked out in holiday garland and Santa hats. Mom’s planning to tape our “The Christmas cheer starts right here” banner onto the winecooler dudes.

Today we were at the Texaco, filling the Buick with some expensive-ass gasoline (1.55/gallon for the cheap stuff!) It was a bit chilly at the pump – probably 30 degrees, and the seat warmers were definetly on and working their sweet magic on my galloots. We’re at the pump, and mom just hops right out and starts putting gas in the car. Just like that – like no shutting off the car or whatever. And I totally notice the little red warning signs indicating that engines must be turned off.

I’m like too lazy to open the door, and can’t reach to roll down the power windows without some inconvenience, so i opt for the sun roof. I can reach that button fairly easily, so i do it, and then i start screaming “mom, mom, mom.” It was like my life depended on it, I was screaming so loud. But Mom didn’t even hear me. The lady at nextdoor at pumpstation 1 kept glaring at me though.

So finally Moms notices I’m screaming my lungs out, and goes “what do you want?”, and she looks cranky. I’m still too lazy to roll down the window and talk to her normally, so I shout out the sun roof “Mom, aren’t you supposed to shut off the car while pumping gas.” And this kills me. Mom goes “I don’t care. I don’t feel like it.”

Gas pumping adjourned, car still running, Mom goes “I guess you are supposed to shut off the car… but we don’t live in the United States.”

Oh Alaskan arrogance, God Bless you!

Merry Christmas everyone. I’m back home in AK, eating mom’s chinese, playing with meg’s pug.

have a great break y’all and visit my christmas website!

Break out the streamers and confetti.
Put on your party pants and don a
cone-shaped cap.
It’s a Happy Unbirthday Party at H䮮ihouse.

I did the real deal yesterday, and I just can’t seem
to give it up. Yesterday, December 2nd, 2002, I had the
pleasure of turning 23 years old. Much fun was had as
well wishers came by to celebrate the glorious day of
my illustrious birth.

I ate a delicious marble cake, carefully prepared for me
by Betty Crocker, and Sean, the drillfield area office manager.
Angelface gave me a gameboy advance, mario kart, and pyou
pop, an english version of the 1996 japanese game pyou pyou,
which i used to spend hours in front of when I was Japanese…

atleast I thought I was Japanese after spending a year in Asia
speaking the language and slipping on shower shoes every time
I entered the loo.

Mom gave me a v. beautiful throw with beautiful garden flowers
embroidered into the pattern. She also sent me english jam,
coco, candy canes, and a birthday card with snakes on it.

The snakes are all wearing party hats and socializing with one
another in parseltongue (Harry Potter reference, I couldn’t resist!)
Anyway, the one snake has his eyebrows raised and he’s saying
“What do you mean ‘time for spankings’? He has no butt!”

Cracks me up.
But then I think, do snakes really not have butts?

Hmmmmmmm

I got the funniest email from CG Dad yesterday. Will excerpt it here:

Dear Ms Hanni,

Sincerely,
Dr. Cornbreath