Rhonda's Ramblings

So, I had some guy come knocking on my door today and when I answered the door, he asked, “Is your mom or dad home?”

It made me laugh. I’m 27 years old and obviously still look like a child. Oh well, when I’m 50 maybe I will look 20 still. (He wanted to sell me steaks.)

I don’t have a computer anymore. Well, I have a computer, but it is broken and so I can’t get internet access, because for some reason it can’t sense that it has a D:/ drive and many other problems. It is sad, but maybe it is God’s way of telling me to give up the internet. (I’m at my mom’s house right now on her computer because I really needed to pay my bills.) I hope that I don’t have to give up the internet for good. That would be sad. It is the way I keep in touch with many of my friends and make new friends and have a community. I do miss checking the board.

I have been home for almost 2 weeks and I am so happy to be home. I had a great time, but coming home is always nice. And I realize all of the things that I love about America (and the things I don’t).

I love the freedom that comes with having a car and being able to hop in the car, roll down the windows, turn on the radio and drive! And I love to garden. I am not sure how well my garden will work, since I planted it so late, but I’m hoping for some fruit from my labor. There is just something amazing about planting and tending to something and seeing it grow and being able to eat the fresh food from my garden. And I love to plant flowers, too.
My friends have been away since I’ve been home, and my sister is not coming home this summer, so I’ve had a lot of time to work in the garden. But my friends are arriving home this week. And tomorrow I get to go to the river with one of them, so that’s fun.

And I’m totally rambling, but life is good! That’s all.

This is not the first night that I have spent sleeping in London Heathrow airport. Though I don’t know if it can really be described as “sleeping” since they are doing construction in the terminal…and they do it all night long since there are no flights running. The construction combined with uncomfortable chairs with arm rests that make it impossible to lie down don’t make for very sweet dreams.

Can I just say that I do not like immigration control officers who don’t stamp my passport nicely. The man who stamped my passport upon entry into Greece pretty much looked for the fullest page there was and stamped there. Then when I left Greece, the man stamped on the same page again. And to make it worse, you can barely tell that it says Athens or Greece. It just looks like a date stamp. Then Mr. London passport control finds a page that already has 4 stamps. That is not allowed!! How in the heck am I supposed to fill up my passport before it expires in 2 years? I have less than 6 pages left, and those three stamps would have made it 5 pages. But thanks to the mean stampers, my goal may never be accomplished.

I’m trying to get my friend Libby to help me write my blog entry…but she is no help. She probably just thinks it is weird that I have a blog, and that I have internet friends. (And she has never heard the word blog before). Last night I forced her to hang out with one of my internet friends…which I’m sure was kind of awkward. But it was fun (And she does say it wasn’t awkward at all). But Mark (my internet friend) and I were quizzed mercilessly on how the heck we met and how in the world does a message board work….and asked, “Do the friendships you make feel like real relationships?” Heck yeah, they feel like real relationships. (It’s like the wind, you can’t really see it, but you know it’s there [Libby]) It was kind of funny. And I’m sure we didn’t convince them that we were normal. They probably think we are some kind of “internet hussies”…but that’s ok. I have fully come to terms with the fact that I have friends that I’ve never met and only know through the internet…and phone calls. And I’m even ok with having my secret internet life collide with my real life. It may make for some awkward moments, but it’s all about community, baby.

(libby wrote that last line )

By the way…I am in Greece, hanging out with my filthy friend, Libby, who I haven’t seen in almost a year. Fun times. (Filthy means cool in Aussie).

That’s all for now. Discuss amongst yourselves: the collision of real life and your internet life.

I do not understand why people insist on wearing watches that beep every hour.

On my flight from Kenya, which was an overnight flight, I was very happy, because there was nobody sitting next to me. But, I soon realized that the man on the other side of that empty seat apparently doesn’t know how to tell time.

He can’t look at his watch to see what time it is. He must be reminded every hour with an annoying “beep, beep”. Why in the world? Does he need it beep to remind him to look at his watch? Does he forget that time is passing unless he is reminded of it every hour? Or does he just want to annoy the living crap out of the girl next to him who is trying to get some sleep?

It’s hard enough to get sleep in a tiny little seat where you can’t extend your legs, and your head flops around. But inevitably as soon as I was about to nod off, I hear “beep, beep”. Argh….

Can anybody tell me why people insist on beeping watches?

Well, I haven’t actually made it to Trafalgar Square, but I am in London. I’m staying with a dear friend who I haven’t seen in a couple of years. In the land of babies….the neighborhood that Jo lives in has the highest birthrate in all of Europe. And it is noticeable when walking down the street. There are women (and men) with strollers (or prams) everywhere. Jo has an adorable four month old of her own, Ben, that I have fallen in love with.

So, life is good. Tomorrow I will be meeting up with another great friend and spending a couple of days with him before I head off to Greece to catch up with another wonderful friend.

I’m so spoiled!