The Big Mama is whole again. All of her seats have been returned to their proper places. But, alas, she is no longer my minivan. She has once again become my mother's car. Fear not, Big Mama, we'll get one last road trip together when we head to St. Louis for New Year's. I-39 here we come!

How could I have left this out?
For Christmas my mother gave me a pair of socks. She was very proud of herself for finding these socks. They are covered with a crossword puzzle, pens and pencils, and donuts and coffee. She thought this was perfect because I ususally do the crossword puzzle every morning in the Rockford Register Star when I'm home. She apparently didn't read the words in the partially filled in crossword puzzle. It's not just a crossword. It's a sexy crossword. Here is a sampling of the words: vibrates, erect, strumpet, spank, slave, ride, gel.

Ann -i-e Mack throw-back
The local CBS affiliate has a new reporter named Katie Nilsson (sounds like Nielson). It's not the same girl, but every time they announce her, there's a brief moment of jigga ... what's she doing in Rockford? Scary.

Christmas as only the Kaspers can celebrate
During a discussion about my great-grandparents on my father's side
"And we would all sit down to play cards, and now my grandmother wasn't really the gambling type, but she would always be so cutthroat when we sat down to play cards." --my father
"What do you mean she wasn't the gambling type? She used to play the ponies." -- my great-aunt Mike

"I just remember always wanting to drink the beer with the raw egg in it. When we would play cards, Grampa would take a shot of vodka and then drink the beer with raw egg in it, and then he would get up and to that Causak dance." -- Aunt Jane

(Note: At the time in question, my great-grandfather was in his 60s. After this comment, my brother got up from the table and tried to do said Causak dance, you know the one that involves large Russian men with mustaches squating low to the ground and kicking their legs out rapidly. He proceeded to fall on his ass.)

All of this begs the question, Why didn't I know my great-grandparents? They sound like great fun.

"Do they have sidewalks in Ireland?" -Aunt Jane

"You know, they make prosthetic testicles for dogs." -- Joey, my brother's girlfriend

When my mother opened a Christmas card from Aunt Mike, something slipped out of it. In most families, this would be a check or perhaps a five dollar bill. But no. I was a two-dollar coupon (the kind you get with your receipt that the grocery store) for flavored Folger's coffee.

Aunt Jane gave my father a package. It was supposed to be cologne. When he opened it, it turned out to be women's perfume. Oops. She accidentally gave him Mrs. Hurley's present. That meant that at the same time, somewhere in Chicago, an elderly Hispanic woman was opening a bottle of men's cologne in front of her eight children and numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Addendum to the the graduation highlights list
- Hugs. All of them. Sober hugs. Not-so-sober hugs. Group hugs. Happy, congratulatory hugs. Teary, good-bye hugs. Just plain ol' hugs.

Graduation Highlights
- Martha Pickins as pre-graduation organizer in the basement of Neff. I don't know anyone more calming, even though she couldn't settle the debate about whether the tassels are supposed to be on the right or left.
- Walt Harrington as graduation speaker, even though he could have been more concise.
- Taking pictures at the columns and having my father tell me and Julie to pretend to push them over. Don't worry, we didn't succeed.
- Cocktail weenies in barbeque sauce being served at the honors reception. How Midwestern.
- My father's complete befuddlement over the concept of a car bomb (the drink, not the explosive devise). In contrast, I'm pretty sure I got a high-five from Mr. A after he heard I drank one the night before.
- Singing along to "Edelweiss." We really did just need a goat.

Things that don't make the list
- Anything to do with packing, moving or cleaning
- Having to say good-bye to all of my friends. I miss you guys already.

If I was developing some sort of sharp, pointy tail, you would tell me, right?
After a day full of packing, cleaning, a seven-hour drive and unpacking, I was in a less than happy mood. Then after dinner my father pointed out that I had a hole in the back of my pants. I told him he must be wrong. These gray corduroy pants are not only quite new, they are my favorite pair of pants. Alas, he was right, and there was a one-inch rip conveniently located in the middle of the material where it can't really be fixed. I was baffled. How did this happen? And why? I just bought the pants in August, and I love them. And just about a month and a half ago, I ripped my favorite green pants in a similar spot, except that was caused by an unfortunate snagging incident involving a decorative metal leaf on the back of one of my cheap-ass kitchen chairs. I was upset, but I still had my gray corduroys, so I would be alright. But now I have lost those too in this senseless madness. If things keep up at this rate, I will soon be out of pants. That would be bad. It gets cold in Illinois during the winter.

Back in the, back in the, back in the B - el - vi - dere
Today I opened a new checking account at Belvidere National Bank. (It has branches in Belvidere and Kirkland.) The woman typing in my application information asked if I have a job. Uh, no. I just graduated on Saturday. Oh, so you're unemployed. Uh, yeah, I guess so. (typing, typing, pause.) So you don't have any annual income then either, do you? Uh, yeah, I guess not.
It's depressing, but I think that kind of sums some things up

Am certified domestic goddess
Today I baked two pies. One pecan and one double crust applescotch (think caramel apple in a pie crust ... mmm). I even made the crust from scratch. Perhaps I should give up on my career goals and just stay home to bake pies like Betty Crocker. But then again, that would be letting the patriarchy win, wouldn't it? Drat.

Mmmm ... Vin Diesel
Last night before The Lord of the Rings, they showed a preview for Vin Diesel's new movie. He plays a cop. I think it's supposed to be a "serious" role. I still giggled a lot, but I do that during all Vin Diesel films. And this time he's sporting some rather unfortunate facial hair. At least he was smart enough to stay bald.

Good-bye, Farewell
It's Thursday. I graduate Saturday. Gah. With all the packing and cleaning and arrival of family, there won't be a chance for blogging. I wish I had more profound thoughts on leaving Columbia, but right now I just want to say good-bye, friends. I'm going to miss you. But fear not, when I get back to Belvidere, there will be more blogging again. It will almost be like I'm still here. Sort of.

Things that make ya go "Huh?"
1. My father. Yesterday while I was trying to give directions to my parents so they could find my apartment from their hotel, my father kept referring to the "Beltway." We must have been talking about different cities. I've never driven on Columbia's Beltway. Have you? My parents might not make it to graduation. They'll be driving aimlessly about the state in search of this mysterious Beltway. At least there's still hope for the arrival of my brother and the show cat.
2. The existence of the Newman Players. Who decided interpretive dance during mass was a good idea? And why didn't they perform at 9 p.m. mass after they performed Saturday night? I was quite disappointed. It would have made my last night at the Newman Center a little more special.
3. My current lack of stress. I only have one final. It's in Nutrition 34. Everyone else I know is busy studying and finishing up projects and stressing out. I feel like there's something really important that I should be working on and I've forgotten about. There isn't. This is vaguely unsettling.

Despite a slow start, I would have to say the party was a success. The only alcohol left in my apartment is an 8 oz. bottle of Budweiser, half of a small bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream and a bottle of cooking sherry. Good job, team. It was fun.

I'm so angry with the Columbia Missourian and Vox Magazine right now. Or at least the people who run them. I'm too angry to explain. Let's just say that Tom Warhover in now on my "list."

I stop blogging now. Really. I swear.

Oh, Elimidate, why are you so funny?
Today the show was set in Milwaukee.
"I'm just a typical Milwaukee guy; I'm looking for a girl who can hold her liquor."
"We're in Milwaukee. If you need a chaser with your shot, you need to consider moving to another town."

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I have dishpan hands. No one will ever marry me.

I'll take my miracles where I can get them
So I'm editing this story for Vox written by this guy named Pat Healy, maybe you've heard of him. The past week and a half has been stressful, as Tim Leong lost this big packet of documents Pat gave us for visuals. The Vox office is only so big, and we couldn't find it anywhere. The whole packet had just, poof, disappeared. Good job, Tim. This was bad because a) we needed them for visuals for the page and b) those were Pat's only copies this information (jail safety reports, court records, etc.). He needed them for factchecking or to defend what he wrote in case anyone got upset and challenged our story (a good possiblity when a story involves rape, suicide and poor jail conditions in a small town). He was upset. I was upset. Tim was upset. I came home at some point and said a certain prayer. Kate wasn't here to help me this time, but it was the same prayer that helped two reporters notebooks I lost in 306 miraculously appear. This was a couple days ago. By now, I'd pretty much given up on finding the packet.

Then this morning I walked into the Vox office, and there was a huge envelope in my mailbox. It was the documents! All of them! Even the snapshots and the funeral card were still there! I started to jump up and down and ran to find Pat to celebrate. I'm pretty sure I scared Kim Townlain. Apparently, the documents just appeared in the designers box this morning some time. No one knows how they got there or really who found them first. The weird thing is that they are in a completely different envelope. I had put them in a regular manila envelope and written Pat's name, the story and the issue date on it. They reappeared in a much bigger envelope, the kind lined with bubble wrap. It was also blank. Tim said, "It's like it was just Fed-Exed in from Alaska." Anyway, there was much rejoicing in the Vox office. Prayers were answered. I really do think it was some sort of miracle. I'm glad those still happen. I'll stop ranting now. I've probably scared you all.

This is the last time I will have to stay up until 3:45 in the morning to finish a homework assignment. Weird. The last class of my college career starts in less than six hours. Again, weird. But for now, I sleep.

Is it Thursday yet?
Folks, this is still happening. Julie has to work until midnight, but you should still come. Say 10ish? I can't drink all this booze by myself, people. If you can't make it, we're also planning a cozy evening at Berg. Details: TK

Things that tie your stomach up in knots
1. At 8:30 on Tuesday night not having any text to fill that gaping hole on your page called a side bar. Why does this town refuse to show Adaptation? Why? Life would have been so much easier if this town's movie theaters didn't insist on being lying jerks.
2. Staring at a computer screen and wishing you knew more about Star Trek so you could write an entertaining side bar type item to fill said gaping whole.
3. Giving up on Star Trek idea after you realize that the idea that the even numbered Star Trek movies are good and the odd ones are bad really isn't enough to fill an entire column, unless you have seen all the movies, which I have not.
4. Realizing the only person you can think of who could write 300 words on Maid in Manhattan at the very last minute lives in Texas.
5. Trying to connect Patrick Stewart to Rob Schneider and J-Lo to Orlando Jones in six steps. Life lessons: Floating celebrity heads take up a lot of room on a page. Kevin Bacon and his silly game are always your friend.
6. Setting a new "personal best" for Vox lateness. I left at 11:15. Runner-up: Thursday night of Vox Squared - 11:00

My weekend mathematically

transcribing + revising + editing = low will to live

nachos the way Kate makes them + refreshing beverages + movies so bad they're good + comfy futon = a high-quality evening with the roommate

eggnog + classic Christmas specials + toasty fire + friends = holiday cheer

Quote of the weekend
"I can't listen when he talks, I'm too distracted by his sexy." -Jules

Mad board game skillz
Last night I beat Paul at Scrabble and Jules at Monopoly. Both games got pretty competitive. Jules insists that we're playing again, but next time I'm going down. (We'll see about that, Adelsberger!) I also watched Strictly Ballroom, Baz Luhrmann's first film. If you like Moulin Rouge and Romeo + Juliet, I highly recommend seeing it.

I don't know. It's just weird how the quiet, relatively uneventful nights are the ones that make you realize how much you are going to miss people and how few nights you really have left to spend like this with them. And that sucks. Gah. Must not dwell on this. Have two weekends left to enjoy and really most of finals weeks too. Come on, Self, less freaking out, more having fun, remember? Yes, yes, Self, I'll try.

Highlights of an evening at Black & Gold
1. They sell safety-orange baseball caps with the name of the bar on them in black. Watch out pheasants.
2. Dancing on a bench to "Sweet Home Alabama" and getting at least eight other people to join us. Some of them we didn't know. We didn't care.
3. I accidentally walked in on a man peeing. Hey, he left the door to the bathroom open. It's so not my fault.
4. Country bars are not the place for salsa dancing.
5. "Paul Wilson, this is not interpretive dancing." -Jules

I was going to post something cheery about enjoying Columbia's first snowfall, but then I called my parents to answer some questions about renting cars in Ireland. That's when I found out about this. I've haven't really lived in Belvidere since he became our priest, but I still find this really upsetting. He seemed so nice, and he gave great sermons. My dad does bookkeeping for St. James School, so he was there when they came to arrest father. He left work early today so he wouldn't be there when all the television crews arrived. The principal is holding some sort of press conference. I never really felt that unsettled when this whole nationwide scandal about Catholic priests started. It was other people, other places. But now it's happening in Belvidere. Belvidere for God's sake. The church I've gone to my whole life. I just feel sick. I don't know what to think.

I apologize for the serious nature of today's post. I usually try to keep this blog light and entertaining, but sometimes ... yeah.

Irresponsibility is spelled: Dinner with Julie Seabaugh ... at the Berg
Let's just say if "editing under the influence" were on my list of things to do before graduation, I could check it off.

Something for free
I can stop worrying about being able to afford living in Manhattan. I can always answer this ad in The New York Times:

"I'm a attorney with a busy Law practice. I'm looking for a female to share my LUXURY apartment in (Manhattan) New York City with a terrace and a great view of the city and close to Lincoln Center and Central Park. You should be Dominant and be able to Take command of me and my apartment. You should be able to keep it in order. In exchange of role play (you being dominant) you will receive FREE RENT and many perks such as local events, invite only parties, sails on my yacht and maybe occassional candle light diners."

But he probably wouldn't like me because I really want to copy-edit his ad. Then again, maybe he would be into that sort of thing.

The Rockford Register Star: Answering your burning questions
Such as, what would Jesus drive?
Tragically, the best part of the story didn't make it into the online version. It was the results of an online poll. Some people think Jesus would take public transportation because it is the closest thing to walking. Others think he would drive a pick-up truck because, you know, he was a carpenter. And some people thought he would drive an SUV because it would have plenty of room for the apostles.

Quotes of the Day
"In Kansas City, traffic is the new weather." -Scott

"Blah, blah, blah, shooting people in the stomach." -Jules

"I need a hug from a fuzzy pig." -me