My Dear Husband and I will be celebrating our anniversary soon and it also happens to be my husbands birthday. When I asked DH what he wanted for his birthday/anniversary gift, he didn’t give me the usual “I don’t know.” Oh, no. What he did was crack a sly smile and gave me that look. [Okay, get your head out of the gutter because that’s not what he was implying.] That meant he knew EXACTLY what he wanted and it was going to be a doozie. Now we don’t always get gifts for each other for all the usual gift-giving opportunities. We have more than we need and just don’t usually want anything. So this was going to be big. I knew that he had been hinting about going on a deep sea fishing trip so I figured that was it. I was wrong. Well, not really. He still wants the fishing trip, but (and I quote) “just not for my birthday/anniversary gift.” Which means it’s still on the table for Christmas.
So he wants a new gun. Another gun. One to use specifically for hunting geese. Seriously?
I’m one of those people that don’t really agree with hunting as a sport, but I accept it for what it is. We live in hunting country and it’s a part of life around here. I mean, our ancestors may have “needed” to hunt and kill animals to feed their families, but we really don’t have to do that anymore. The grocery stores and meat markets are chock full of meat ready to cook and at an affordable price. No license needed, no accessories required -unless you include kitchen utensils and cookware accessories. When I bring up this point, my husband tries to debate it by saying that because we would be buying less meat at the store, we are saving animals. Ha! Not really. Those animals are going to end up in the markets whether or not we are hunting for our own food. And since they are already there, it’s better to buy them than go out and kill another. KWIM?
So here’s how our crazy conversation goes:
ME: So how much is this gun going to cost?
DH: It’s only $700.
ME: $700? Is that all?
DH: Yeah, it’s not that bad for a gun.
[Me thinking to myself: That’s your sales pitch? Oh come on. You can do better than that!]
ME: Does that include everything?
DH: Yeah, what else is there?
ME: Ammunition, accessories, etc. There is always more.
DH: Well, yeah, the ammunition is kind of expensive. But I’ll be able to kill geese. They are bigger than ducks so you get more for your money.
ME: But I don’t eat geese. I don’t even know how to cook that.
DH: You use it just like duck. We can make a gumbo, or stew, or…
ME: But I don’t eat duck either! You know that. Have you ever seen me cook anything with duck?
ME: Wait. We already have a bunch of ducks in the freezer taking up space. Geese are much bigger and we just don’t have the room. Which means we will have to buy another freezer to hold all these ducks and geese you are going to be bringing home that I don’t eat, nor know how to cook.
DH: Okay, well, I could give them to my mom.
ME: Well if your mom is going to end up getting them anyway, why not ask her to buy the freezer?
DH: (He has no response to this.)
ME: Let’s see… $700 for the gun, plus $200 for accessories like a gun case and ammo, and another $800 for a freezer. Estimated cost is now at $1700.
ME: That’s a lot of money to spend to hunt an animal that I don’t eat, that will take up space in the new freezer we will have to buy, only to have your mother end up getting the game.
DH: (He has no response to this either. I suspect he realizes he‘s losing ground.)
ME: (having fun with this) So if you get to hunt 10 times during the season, and for each trip you average 2 geese, that will be 20 geese. $1700 divided by 20 comes to $85 per goose. How much does a goose usually weigh? I could figure the price per pound.
DH: (He just stares at me.)
ME: (smiling) Gee, that’s some really expensive geese…
DH: So, what do you think?
I love pulling his leg and he knows it.
And yes, he’s getting his gun. :)
Monday, October 11, 2010
Saturday, October 9, 2010
I Swear It Was Innocent & Unintentional
Our neighbors directly across the street are really nice people.
We tend to be indoor folk that always have too much to do so we probably seem like we are unapproachable. That’s what happens when you’re always trying to keep up with the house and laundry, running the kids to their activities, grocery shopping, etc. But our neighbors appear to have it all together. They spend time with their toddler daughter in the yard playing, they have other friends over on weekends and at night to socialize. They have come over when we had yard sales and they even let me use the phone one morning when my daughter locked my purse and keys in the house. Quiet and clean, they never disturb anyone and they keep their lawn up. What more could you ask for?
Well, there is one little thing. They are Florida Gator fans. And we live in Tiger country.
No, the Tigers aren’t exactly their big rival, nor are the Gators ours. But during football season, they sport Gator flags instead of Tiger flags. They often have friends over on game days and they watch the game in the garage with the door open. Not that I’m being nosey (hey, I’m just getting the mail, okay?) but I can clearly see them watching the Gator game instead of the Tigers. And that’s totally okay.
Today is Saturday -game day- and my youngest daughter wanted to wear her LSU cheerleading outfit. No problem. She wanted to ride her bike this morning so she and her big sister went for a ride. Nothing bad about that right? You would think. And now you know the truth. We really didn’t do anything.
It’s now late in the afternoon -almost game time- and my Dear Husband and I were casually talking about the game when my oldest daughter asked who we were playing. Upon hearing it was the Gators, she commented, “oh, that’s why the neighbor asked if we were watching the game tonight.” I asked her when she had spoken to the neighbor and I find out that it was when they were riding their bikes. They were apparently playing in the yard when my girls went out and my youngest daughter wanted to go over and say high to their toddler. Nothing to it. Until it sank in…
Oh, how that must have looked to them. I mean, our kids rarely go outside to ride their bikes. On a Saturday morning. Before noon. And never in an LSU outfit. Especially when the neighbors are outside. On game day. That would look bad.
It just so happens that they were outside early this morning because my oldest daughter had a friend sleep over and they were playing in the yard while waiting for her parents to pick them up. But if the neighbors didn’t see that, then it would look suspicious.
Around 11:00 am, my 3 yo. comes bounding out the house in her LSU outfit and just so happens to want to ride her bike while the neighbors are in their yard. (seem odd yet?) Then, she just so happens to want to stop and talk to the neighbors toddler and say hi (something she has never really done before). I’m thinking the neighbor must have thought it propped (like we were trying to rub it in or something) because she proceeded to ask my girls if we were going to watch the game and then says that they were definitely watching the Gators tonight.
See? It was totally innocent.
Hey, we know the Gators are an excellent team. They always are and I’ll even admit that they will be difficult to beat. But this here is Tiger country and we support our boys!
Geaux Tigers!!
We tend to be indoor folk that always have too much to do so we probably seem like we are unapproachable. That’s what happens when you’re always trying to keep up with the house and laundry, running the kids to their activities, grocery shopping, etc. But our neighbors appear to have it all together. They spend time with their toddler daughter in the yard playing, they have other friends over on weekends and at night to socialize. They have come over when we had yard sales and they even let me use the phone one morning when my daughter locked my purse and keys in the house. Quiet and clean, they never disturb anyone and they keep their lawn up. What more could you ask for?
Well, there is one little thing. They are Florida Gator fans. And we live in Tiger country.
No, the Tigers aren’t exactly their big rival, nor are the Gators ours. But during football season, they sport Gator flags instead of Tiger flags. They often have friends over on game days and they watch the game in the garage with the door open. Not that I’m being nosey (hey, I’m just getting the mail, okay?) but I can clearly see them watching the Gator game instead of the Tigers. And that’s totally okay.
Today is Saturday -game day- and my youngest daughter wanted to wear her LSU cheerleading outfit. No problem. She wanted to ride her bike this morning so she and her big sister went for a ride. Nothing bad about that right? You would think. And now you know the truth. We really didn’t do anything.
It’s now late in the afternoon -almost game time- and my Dear Husband and I were casually talking about the game when my oldest daughter asked who we were playing. Upon hearing it was the Gators, she commented, “oh, that’s why the neighbor asked if we were watching the game tonight.” I asked her when she had spoken to the neighbor and I find out that it was when they were riding their bikes. They were apparently playing in the yard when my girls went out and my youngest daughter wanted to go over and say high to their toddler. Nothing to it. Until it sank in…
Oh, how that must have looked to them. I mean, our kids rarely go outside to ride their bikes. On a Saturday morning. Before noon. And never in an LSU outfit. Especially when the neighbors are outside. On game day. That would look bad.
It just so happens that they were outside early this morning because my oldest daughter had a friend sleep over and they were playing in the yard while waiting for her parents to pick them up. But if the neighbors didn’t see that, then it would look suspicious.
Around 11:00 am, my 3 yo. comes bounding out the house in her LSU outfit and just so happens to want to ride her bike while the neighbors are in their yard. (seem odd yet?) Then, she just so happens to want to stop and talk to the neighbors toddler and say hi (something she has never really done before). I’m thinking the neighbor must have thought it propped (like we were trying to rub it in or something) because she proceeded to ask my girls if we were going to watch the game and then says that they were definitely watching the Gators tonight.
See? It was totally innocent.
Hey, we know the Gators are an excellent team. They always are and I’ll even admit that they will be difficult to beat. But this here is Tiger country and we support our boys!
Geaux Tigers!!
Goin' Duckin'
My 3yo. is still trying to grasp the English language and it's proving to be quite humorous.
My Dear Husband is a hunter and likes to hunt ducks. DH has been working at the lease on weekends to prepare for the upcoming season. My daughter remembers him bringing home the ducks after the hunts last year and knows what he's doing. I thought she would be a little freaked about it, but after poking a dead duck or two while DH was cleaning them, she announced "Give me the knife Daddy so I can help you." She's totally fine with it. But I digress.
So this morning as DH put on his camo and was getting ready to leave, she begged and pleaded for him to please "take me ducking."
Yep, ducking. She thinks it's as simple as adding an "ing" to the end. As in, fishing. Great logic, huh?
My Dear Husband is a hunter and likes to hunt ducks. DH has been working at the lease on weekends to prepare for the upcoming season. My daughter remembers him bringing home the ducks after the hunts last year and knows what he's doing. I thought she would be a little freaked about it, but after poking a dead duck or two while DH was cleaning them, she announced "Give me the knife Daddy so I can help you." She's totally fine with it. But I digress.
So this morning as DH put on his camo and was getting ready to leave, she begged and pleaded for him to please "take me ducking."
Yep, ducking. She thinks it's as simple as adding an "ing" to the end. As in, fishing. Great logic, huh?
Monday, October 4, 2010
How Bright is Your Light Bulb?
I just finished reading an article that a journalist wrote about the excessive fees that are racked up by people that choose to live without a bank account. There was reference to fees for check cashing, prepaid credit cards, money order, and more. She lived for a month without using her bank account, direct deposit, or credit cards and incurred a whopping $93 in fees. Not only do I find that incredible, but I‘m amazed that the survey she referenced said that 1 in four U.S. households do not have a bank account. But what was more interesting that the article itself, were the Yahoo comments that followed the article.
Sidebar: Just who ARE those people?
They were commenting on the writer’s poor judgment at not shopping around for the best deal on the check cashing service and for picking the wrong prepaid credit cards because there were cheaper ones available. They even touted Wal-Mart as having the best rates on all the services. Then there was the barrage of “it’s the government’s fault” and “the big bankers are getting richer by imposing so many fees that we can’t afford them”. Oh, and my personal favorite said (and I quote directly without editing the punctuation, spelling, or grammar): “im not giving a bank any money by getting account because you never know what they are doing with money and if they will be in business one day to the next.” We are obviously dealing with people that are as bright as a burned light bulb.
Don’t ask me why I was even reading those comments. It's embarrassing, but sometimes I cannot pull myself away from the idiocy of them all as it can be pure comedy and I hate to miss a good laugh. But about halfway through, one poster commented that if you were really careful about taking money from your ATM and where you use your debit card and to only use free checking accounts, you could actually keep from paying such high fees. ?! Umm, yeah. Nothing like setting your sites low.
What about having it all and then some? You know, like having a large supreme pizza instead of just a small cheese. Why not have a free checking account that -get ready for it - PAYS YOU? Yeah, and maybe even a credit card with no annual fees, and a low interest rate. And guess what? If you pay the entire balance in full each month, it’s actually 0% interest!! Woo hoo! And if I shop around enough, I can probably find a card that includes all that plus has cash back benefits and/or earns me some sort of reward. Yes, THEY PAY ME for using my own money to buy the things I need each month. What’s the catch, you ask? Well, there really isn’t one. I only charge what I can afford and never a penny more than I have in the bank. If I do, then I’m on the other side of the fence where I’m no longer earning, but instead it’s costing me on top of what I’m paying. And don’t start whining about not being able to have enough to open an account because of minimum balances and what not. That’s just a bunch of excuses for people who are too lazy to do the research and find out what is available. For instance, right now, at this very moment, one very popular, widely known online bank is offering $50 to anyone who opens one of their free checking accounts and keeps it open for a minimum number of days (I think it’s something like 3 months). As with all accounts, it does have a few requirements, but they are minimal. Like direct deposit (Well, duh. How else are you going to get your money into an online bank?) and a certain number of online bill pays (also free) per month (you gotta pay your rent and utilities anyway, right?). So the question is, why the hell wouldn’t you sign up? They are willing to give you free money to pay your bills with your own money. What’s not to like?
And as for the idiot, err, ignorant person that posted about not knowing what the banks do with your money and whether they will be in business one day to the next. Well, it’s their own ignorance that is keeping them down and forcing them to use the cash system and pay all the exorbitant fees. And for them, I don’t feel sorry -not one teensy bit.
Sidebar: Just who ARE those people?
They were commenting on the writer’s poor judgment at not shopping around for the best deal on the check cashing service and for picking the wrong prepaid credit cards because there were cheaper ones available. They even touted Wal-Mart as having the best rates on all the services. Then there was the barrage of “it’s the government’s fault” and “the big bankers are getting richer by imposing so many fees that we can’t afford them”. Oh, and my personal favorite said (and I quote directly without editing the punctuation, spelling, or grammar): “im not giving a bank any money by getting account because you never know what they are doing with money and if they will be in business one day to the next.” We are obviously dealing with people that are as bright as a burned light bulb.
Don’t ask me why I was even reading those comments. It's embarrassing, but sometimes I cannot pull myself away from the idiocy of them all as it can be pure comedy and I hate to miss a good laugh. But about halfway through, one poster commented that if you were really careful about taking money from your ATM and where you use your debit card and to only use free checking accounts, you could actually keep from paying such high fees. ?! Umm, yeah. Nothing like setting your sites low.
What about having it all and then some? You know, like having a large supreme pizza instead of just a small cheese. Why not have a free checking account that -get ready for it - PAYS YOU? Yeah, and maybe even a credit card with no annual fees, and a low interest rate. And guess what? If you pay the entire balance in full each month, it’s actually 0% interest!! Woo hoo! And if I shop around enough, I can probably find a card that includes all that plus has cash back benefits and/or earns me some sort of reward. Yes, THEY PAY ME for using my own money to buy the things I need each month. What’s the catch, you ask? Well, there really isn’t one. I only charge what I can afford and never a penny more than I have in the bank. If I do, then I’m on the other side of the fence where I’m no longer earning, but instead it’s costing me on top of what I’m paying. And don’t start whining about not being able to have enough to open an account because of minimum balances and what not. That’s just a bunch of excuses for people who are too lazy to do the research and find out what is available. For instance, right now, at this very moment, one very popular, widely known online bank is offering $50 to anyone who opens one of their free checking accounts and keeps it open for a minimum number of days (I think it’s something like 3 months). As with all accounts, it does have a few requirements, but they are minimal. Like direct deposit (Well, duh. How else are you going to get your money into an online bank?) and a certain number of online bill pays (also free) per month (you gotta pay your rent and utilities anyway, right?). So the question is, why the hell wouldn’t you sign up? They are willing to give you free money to pay your bills with your own money. What’s not to like?
And as for the idiot, err, ignorant person that posted about not knowing what the banks do with your money and whether they will be in business one day to the next. Well, it’s their own ignorance that is keeping them down and forcing them to use the cash system and pay all the exorbitant fees. And for them, I don’t feel sorry -not one teensy bit.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Little Monsters
Why are kids so mean? Yesterday I read an article about a man that boarded a school bus and went off on some mean kids that had been harassing his disabled daughter while riding the bus. It makes me sad to think of that girl enduring any type of harassment and not be able to defend herself against these bullies. What kind of heartless kids are riding that bus? Where there no kids on the bus with compassion –to stand up on her behalf? I know that nobody wants to be picked on, but there is usually one or two willing to help out. Where were those kids and why didn’t they step up? And why didn’t the bus driver do something about it?
The fact is, bullies are all around us. Take a good hard look at your kid and honestly ask yourself –is my child capable of that? You might be surprised and embarrassed at the answer. Don’t kid yourself. Most of our kids are totally capable of bullying another child and probably have on occasion. For the parents who think that their kid “would never do that”, stop being so naïve. Your kid isn’t perfect and neither is mine. But the difference is that I know my child is capable (we are all capable) and because of that, I’m watching for the signs and can make sure it doesn’t happen. Meanwhile, you have your head in the sand while your child is bullying my child.
Stories like this make me sad and I feel bad for the father that was blasted for what he did on the bus. Yes, he may have used profanity and inappropriate language, and it definitely wasn’t the best way to handle the situation. I understand why he is making a public apology for his actions –but where the hell are the public apologies by the bullies, their parents, and the bus driver? They should all be held accountable for their actions (and for the parents, inactions).
But this particular story hits too close to home for me. Just yesterday afternoon, my daughter gets home from school and tells me that some of her friends have decided that they don’t want to be her friend anymore. Yep, just like that. Out of a group of 5 girls, two said that my daughter was too needy (wth? Aren’t they all needy at 12?) and another said it was because a third party friend (who doesn’t even go to the same school) told her not to be friends anymore. Sheesh. Soap opera-style drama for tweens.
I say good riddance to these three “friends”, but my daughter still feels ousted and that’s a sting that really hurts at this age. I want to hold her and tell her it will be okay, but that won’t make her hurt stop. I also want to march right down to the school and give these little twits a viral tongue lashing like they have never heard. No, it won’t change the situation, but it will make me feel better. I want to pull her out of that horrid school and send her somewhere safe where nothing like that will ever happen again.
I can’t control who my daughter befriends and I know that she will have to deal with whatever happens. I know I can’t protect her from all the snotty little girls in the world and that she will have to face these and more in her school years. But I can secretly wish for them to have really bad acne!
The fact is, bullies are all around us. Take a good hard look at your kid and honestly ask yourself –is my child capable of that? You might be surprised and embarrassed at the answer. Don’t kid yourself. Most of our kids are totally capable of bullying another child and probably have on occasion. For the parents who think that their kid “would never do that”, stop being so naïve. Your kid isn’t perfect and neither is mine. But the difference is that I know my child is capable (we are all capable) and because of that, I’m watching for the signs and can make sure it doesn’t happen. Meanwhile, you have your head in the sand while your child is bullying my child.
Stories like this make me sad and I feel bad for the father that was blasted for what he did on the bus. Yes, he may have used profanity and inappropriate language, and it definitely wasn’t the best way to handle the situation. I understand why he is making a public apology for his actions –but where the hell are the public apologies by the bullies, their parents, and the bus driver? They should all be held accountable for their actions (and for the parents, inactions).
But this particular story hits too close to home for me. Just yesterday afternoon, my daughter gets home from school and tells me that some of her friends have decided that they don’t want to be her friend anymore. Yep, just like that. Out of a group of 5 girls, two said that my daughter was too needy (wth? Aren’t they all needy at 12?) and another said it was because a third party friend (who doesn’t even go to the same school) told her not to be friends anymore. Sheesh. Soap opera-style drama for tweens.
I say good riddance to these three “friends”, but my daughter still feels ousted and that’s a sting that really hurts at this age. I want to hold her and tell her it will be okay, but that won’t make her hurt stop. I also want to march right down to the school and give these little twits a viral tongue lashing like they have never heard. No, it won’t change the situation, but it will make me feel better. I want to pull her out of that horrid school and send her somewhere safe where nothing like that will ever happen again.
I can’t control who my daughter befriends and I know that she will have to deal with whatever happens. I know I can’t protect her from all the snotty little girls in the world and that she will have to face these and more in her school years. But I can secretly wish for them to have really bad acne!
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
My Long Lost Loves
Why is it that I always seem to be on the tail end of a product’s lifespan? Over the years, there have been quite a few products that I fell in love with, only to have them discontinued or changed. You know, as in “new formula” or “new and improved.” Blah, blah, blah.
So there I was, desperately trying to squeeze out the very last of the Philosophy Kiss Me Very Emollient Lip Balm. I threw down the empty tube and went straight to the computer to order more. Knowing that I can get 3 free samples with each order at Sephora.com, I log onto my account and search for the lip balm. I found similar products in a variety of colors and flavors (gingerbread anyone?) but I could not find the original, colorless and flavorless product. Hmmm. No problem. I'll just order it directly from Philosophy.com. Just a quick search and... aww, cr*p! They changed the formula.
The new formula was better -now with SPF! But then there were the reviews -some good, many not good. {panic begins to set in} As I read through the pages of buyer reviews, I find that die hards, like me, who had used the product for years, were not happy and were begging for Philosophy to change it back to the original SPF-less formula. I had heard, err, read enough.
I quickly grabbed my purse and keys and flew to the nearest Sephora store (the only place in my area that carries Philosophy products) and purchased the mere three tubes they had left in stock. I even asked if they had more in the back, but sadly they did not. However, the other Sephora store across town had another 4 tubes -which I snatched up also. Upon asking if there were more in stock (there weren’t), the lady at the register commented on how much I must like the product. Fighting back tears, I explained that it was truly the best lip product ever and because of it, my lips were never, ever dry or cracked, not even in the dead of winter, and my husband said they were very kissable, but now Philosophy has gone and messed up the product by adding in SPF and it’s not good anymore. (I should do commercials for this product. Hey Philosophy! You listening?) Want to guess what her response was? “Wow. I wish I had known about it. Are there any more tubes left or is this it?” Sorry lady, these are mine and I’m not sharing! Muahahahahahaha.
So there I was, desperately trying to squeeze out the very last of the Philosophy Kiss Me Very Emollient Lip Balm. I threw down the empty tube and went straight to the computer to order more. Knowing that I can get 3 free samples with each order at Sephora.com, I log onto my account and search for the lip balm. I found similar products in a variety of colors and flavors (gingerbread anyone?) but I could not find the original, colorless and flavorless product. Hmmm. No problem. I'll just order it directly from Philosophy.com. Just a quick search and... aww, cr*p! They changed the formula.
The new formula was better -now with SPF! But then there were the reviews -some good, many not good. {panic begins to set in} As I read through the pages of buyer reviews, I find that die hards, like me, who had used the product for years, were not happy and were begging for Philosophy to change it back to the original SPF-less formula. I had heard, err, read enough.
I quickly grabbed my purse and keys and flew to the nearest Sephora store (the only place in my area that carries Philosophy products) and purchased the mere three tubes they had left in stock. I even asked if they had more in the back, but sadly they did not. However, the other Sephora store across town had another 4 tubes -which I snatched up also. Upon asking if there were more in stock (there weren’t), the lady at the register commented on how much I must like the product. Fighting back tears, I explained that it was truly the best lip product ever and because of it, my lips were never, ever dry or cracked, not even in the dead of winter, and my husband said they were very kissable, but now Philosophy has gone and messed up the product by adding in SPF and it’s not good anymore. (I should do commercials for this product. Hey Philosophy! You listening?) Want to guess what her response was? “Wow. I wish I had known about it. Are there any more tubes left or is this it?” Sorry lady, these are mine and I’m not sharing! Muahahahahahaha.
Monday, September 20, 2010
This Can't Be Good
Face·book Ob·ses·sion
noun \äb-‘se-shən, əb-\
Definition: When you start the water for your morning shower, dash to the computer to read last night’s late posts and tend your crops and livestock, then realize 15 minutes later that the shower is STILL running and there probably isn’t much hot water left!
:::sigh::: What have I gotten myself into…
noun \äb-‘se-shən, əb-\
Definition: When you start the water for your morning shower, dash to the computer to read last night’s late posts and tend your crops and livestock, then realize 15 minutes later that the shower is STILL running and there probably isn’t much hot water left!
:::sigh::: What have I gotten myself into…
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Look Out Paul Bunyan
In my newly found venture called Farmville, I’ve discovered that I don’t like all the waiting. My farm has a small number of crops, two foals, and a pig (I sold the cow and bought the two new animals), a bale of hay and a rest tent (both gifts I received), and a newly purchased barn. The barn is really in the beginning stage of being built –mostly only framework –as I do not yet have the hammer and wood needed to finish the job. It’s a slow process and I get bored easily.
But I’ve discovered another Facebook offering: Frontierville!! Yep, I’ve got my own homestead. A plot of land covered with trees, brush, rocks, and critters –just waiting for me to clear it all off and start a home. This offers more to do, but at a cost. Each activity cost an energy and you only get so many at a time. It’s grueling work, but it has to be done. I’ve cleared about a fourth of it, have a small garden going, and even planted a few cherry trees. My house is just a frame but I have a few chickens and a sheep that gets lost in the brush now and then. Somebody get me an ax!
But I’ve discovered another Facebook offering: Frontierville!! Yep, I’ve got my own homestead. A plot of land covered with trees, brush, rocks, and critters –just waiting for me to clear it all off and start a home. This offers more to do, but at a cost. Each activity cost an energy and you only get so many at a time. It’s grueling work, but it has to be done. I’ve cleared about a fourth of it, have a small garden going, and even planted a few cherry trees. My house is just a frame but I have a few chickens and a sheep that gets lost in the brush now and then. Somebody get me an ax!
Friday, September 17, 2010
Look At Me! I'm Farming!
It all started with a harmless post on Facebook. Last Saturday afternoon was the first time I really got into exploring my new Facebook account and how it works. I was only on for a short while before I saw it. It was an innocent post by my sister and I really didn’t know what it was. Something about her getting a great deal on pumpkin bushels at the market. Huh? I thought maybe she was using them for something at work, but what do I know. So I thought I was being funny when I replied “Now don’t you go all Martha Stewart on me.” Then a short while later, another odd post about harvesting her pumpkins. WTH? Now I know my sister doesn’t have any pumpkins growing in her garden. I don’t even think she planted a garden this year! So this time I simply commented “Who are you and what have you done with my sister.” Well, that prompted her to respond by laughing at me and then she explained that it was part of a game on Facebook. What? Facebook has games too? So I head off to explore Farmville –where you get a piece of land (your farm) and you basically tend it. You can plant crops and trees, build houses and barns and all the while you earn money and climb in the rankings. The higher you rank, the more things you can do. And people share rewards they earn with their Facebook friends which creates this whole community thing. So I begin by planting some crops which have to be harvested when they are finished growing. And repeat, this time with more crops. Someone sends me a gift –it’s a foal and then I receive a brick (to use when I start building). Another friend has a lost cow up for adoption so now I have livestock. And then it’s time to plant more crops. Hey! This is actually kind of fun.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
I Only Did It For The Freebie
Truthfully, I registered months ago, but I only did it for the freebie. A freebie that I have yet to receive. But I digress. I have taken the leap and am now one of the millions of people that have a Facebook account. It’s not that I didn’t like Facebook. I just didn’t feel the need to participate. Why? I guess I just didn’t get it. But my sister mentioned that an old friend was looking for me on Facebook and had contacted her for help in reaching me. I believe the message was –tell your sister that she needs to get on Facebook –or something along that line. So when the freebie offer came around, I justified signing up (the freebie was not a good enough reason in itself) by telling myself I was also doing so because a friend was trying to reach me.
Setup was basic –as little information provided as possible, no pictures, no location, and only the initial of my first name plus my last name. I located the friend that was looking for me, friended her, and instantly I could see all kinds of stuff from her on my wall. I really didn’t understand how it all worked, but there it was. I posted a quick hello message and that was it.
And after that, I really didn’t do anything –until my sister called last week. Apparently I have another friend that contacted my sister because she couldn’t find me on Facebook. So, I log onto my account and, to my dismay, find 30+ friend requests. But after scrolling through the first 5 or so, I realize that these people are my family and friends and I kind of got excited. I felt liked. I felt loved. I felt connected.
I can visit with my family and friends across the country by simply chatting. Most of it is fun and silly, but I’m beginning to feel like I’m part of something. Instead of having to get updates from my mother and sisters on how family members are doing, I can see and ask them myself. I’m thrilled to see my aunt on Facebook. With her grown kids spread out all over the states, she can easily stay in touch where a daily (or even weekly) phone call to each of them would be difficult and unrealistic. She stays involved.
So I am no longer on the outside of my family’s affairs. I am a part of the big picture. I’ve located a few other long distance friends that I usually only contact for holidays via Christmas cards. I have even edited my name to reflect my whole name and added a picture. And I get more and more friend requests each day. I’m off to a good start.
Facebook. I think I like it.
Setup was basic –as little information provided as possible, no pictures, no location, and only the initial of my first name plus my last name. I located the friend that was looking for me, friended her, and instantly I could see all kinds of stuff from her on my wall. I really didn’t understand how it all worked, but there it was. I posted a quick hello message and that was it.
And after that, I really didn’t do anything –until my sister called last week. Apparently I have another friend that contacted my sister because she couldn’t find me on Facebook. So, I log onto my account and, to my dismay, find 30+ friend requests. But after scrolling through the first 5 or so, I realize that these people are my family and friends and I kind of got excited. I felt liked. I felt loved. I felt connected.
I can visit with my family and friends across the country by simply chatting. Most of it is fun and silly, but I’m beginning to feel like I’m part of something. Instead of having to get updates from my mother and sisters on how family members are doing, I can see and ask them myself. I’m thrilled to see my aunt on Facebook. With her grown kids spread out all over the states, she can easily stay in touch where a daily (or even weekly) phone call to each of them would be difficult and unrealistic. She stays involved.
So I am no longer on the outside of my family’s affairs. I am a part of the big picture. I’ve located a few other long distance friends that I usually only contact for holidays via Christmas cards. I have even edited my name to reflect my whole name and added a picture. And I get more and more friend requests each day. I’m off to a good start.
Facebook. I think I like it.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Revvvv It Up
To the driver of the fancy, smanchy little tuna can (yeah, I drive a SUV –what of it?) of a sports car in front of me this morning, I’d like to inform you that your car was meant to be driven faster than 40 mph. In fact, the speedometer on your teensy dashboard probably registers as high as 180 mph. Given the way you were handling your little high performance vehicle, (and by handling, I mean treating it as though it might break if you pushed the petal any further) I’d bet that you’ve never actually driven it faster than 80 mph. What a shame. Not only is your engine sorely underachieving, but you are pissing off those people that you block and delay as you cruise along hoping that everyone is admiring you.
Reality Check: we don’t care who you are, what kind of car you have, or how much money you want everyone to think you have. What we care about is that you move your wheels and stop slowing us all down. If you can’t drive it properly, then get off the road and out of the way ‘cause my big boat is coming through! Maybe you should limit your “cruising time” to Sunday afternoons when the roads are less congested and people are not in a rush to get to work.
Reality Check: we don’t care who you are, what kind of car you have, or how much money you want everyone to think you have. What we care about is that you move your wheels and stop slowing us all down. If you can’t drive it properly, then get off the road and out of the way ‘cause my big boat is coming through! Maybe you should limit your “cruising time” to Sunday afternoons when the roads are less congested and people are not in a rush to get to work.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
What Happened to the Signature Print?
Memo To the Design Department at Coach, Inc.
I received an email from your marketing department yesterday and the subject headline was “C The New Prints & Patterns". As a Coachie (or as my sister calls it, a Coach Hoar), I was excited to see the new prints and immediately opened the email. To my dismay, the headline of the email read: "We C You Love Prints. Our New Signature Could Be Yours" where the "new signature" was definitely the newer Optic Art C pattern. Can you tell I’m not a fan of the OpArt print? And why are they calling it the new signature print when the “signature print” has always meant the classic Cs print. This will definitely be confusing –especially to diehard Coachies like me who have been following Coach for many, many years. The newbies will be calling the OpArt pattern the signature print, while the oldies, err, diehards like me will be calling the classic C pattern the signature print. Either they didn’t think this one through, or they are going to phase out the classic C print completely. Nooooooooo!
I know Coach is trying to bring in the younger crowd with new styles and textures and colors and, and, and. That part I love –they are always coming out with new things and so often that I find myself browsing their website on a weekly basis to see what’s new. That’s truly effective marketing! Keep teasing me with new stuff so often that I have to keep checking in for new stuff and make me want it all. The part I don’t love is that they seem to be trading off their real signature print (the classic Cs that started it all) for the OpArt stuff they are pushing now. I admit that some of the OpArt is cute, but it’s not my favorite. The classic signature print is just that –classic. It’s fashionable for all age groups (whereas the OpArt is aimed at the younger crowd) and it has a strong presence.
Take a look around the Coach.com website and you will see what I mean. Out of the hundreds of styles of purses and other items they offer, only a fraction of them carry the classic signature print. This makes me sad. I visited a Coach boutique last month and was not only shocked at the very limited selection of items (for such a big store, shouldn’t there be more to choose from?) but also at the fact that I only saw three items with the classic C print. Only three. In the whole boutique!
The classic C print is the pattern that hooked me and the style and quality is what reeled me in. I love many of the new styles they have out now, but I hate the fact that they are only available in OpArt. The last purse I purchased was as a replacement for my Carly (which had to be shelved due to the fraying issue for which they are known) and since I’m very particular about the size, shape, and functionality of my purses, I chose the medium Leah in coated canvas. I love everything about the purse, except for the fact that it was only available with the OpArt print.
Oh, and to make it worse, it came in only three color choices: hot pink, lime green, and brown. Now what kind of adult woman over the age of 30 wants to own a hot pink purse? As odd as it sounds, I chose the green because it was more subdued than the pink and also the ugly brown. My purse is the perfect size, has the perfect shape, has enough pockets in all the right places for me, and is coated so that it’s waterproof, dirt proof, and is very durable. It’s just ugly as hell.
Now, there were a few Leah bags that came in the classic C signature print, but they were the big, huge purses and they were in the sateen fabric. I wanted the coated canvas for durability and I’m petite so I need a smaller bag. Which gets me to another point…
Why are purses so damned large now? A majority of all purses on the market now are big enough to carry an entire load of laundry plus the bottle of detergent! I see all these teenagers at the mall toting around purses as big as a garbage bag. It’s so out of proportion and I can only imagine how their back, neck, and shoulders feel after a day of slugging it around. I would love to see Coach offer a purse style in multiple sizes (large, medium, and small), colors, prints, and textures/fabric. Maybe they could offer a new feature to “make my custom purse”. I’d be all over that.
And while I’m at it, who thought it would be a good idea to design these big, open purses with only a few teeny pockets on the inside walls? Where are the dividers that split your purse into sections and allowed a bit of organization? I’m tired of rummaging through the endless pit of my purse to find my lip gloss or my keys.
So Coach, if you are listening –you may want to reevaluate your client base and start asking what we want –and listening to our answers. Lest we may get weary of all the games and venture over to Gucci, or Louis Vuitton, or Prada…
I received an email from your marketing department yesterday and the subject headline was “C The New Prints & Patterns". As a Coachie (or as my sister calls it, a Coach Hoar), I was excited to see the new prints and immediately opened the email. To my dismay, the headline of the email read: "We C You Love Prints. Our New Signature Could Be Yours" where the "new signature" was definitely the newer Optic Art C pattern. Can you tell I’m not a fan of the OpArt print? And why are they calling it the new signature print when the “signature print” has always meant the classic Cs print. This will definitely be confusing –especially to diehard Coachies like me who have been following Coach for many, many years. The newbies will be calling the OpArt pattern the signature print, while the oldies, err, diehards like me will be calling the classic C pattern the signature print. Either they didn’t think this one through, or they are going to phase out the classic C print completely. Nooooooooo!
I know Coach is trying to bring in the younger crowd with new styles and textures and colors and, and, and. That part I love –they are always coming out with new things and so often that I find myself browsing their website on a weekly basis to see what’s new. That’s truly effective marketing! Keep teasing me with new stuff so often that I have to keep checking in for new stuff and make me want it all. The part I don’t love is that they seem to be trading off their real signature print (the classic Cs that started it all) for the OpArt stuff they are pushing now. I admit that some of the OpArt is cute, but it’s not my favorite. The classic signature print is just that –classic. It’s fashionable for all age groups (whereas the OpArt is aimed at the younger crowd) and it has a strong presence.
Take a look around the Coach.com website and you will see what I mean. Out of the hundreds of styles of purses and other items they offer, only a fraction of them carry the classic signature print. This makes me sad. I visited a Coach boutique last month and was not only shocked at the very limited selection of items (for such a big store, shouldn’t there be more to choose from?) but also at the fact that I only saw three items with the classic C print. Only three. In the whole boutique!
The classic C print is the pattern that hooked me and the style and quality is what reeled me in. I love many of the new styles they have out now, but I hate the fact that they are only available in OpArt. The last purse I purchased was as a replacement for my Carly (which had to be shelved due to the fraying issue for which they are known) and since I’m very particular about the size, shape, and functionality of my purses, I chose the medium Leah in coated canvas. I love everything about the purse, except for the fact that it was only available with the OpArt print.
Oh, and to make it worse, it came in only three color choices: hot pink, lime green, and brown. Now what kind of adult woman over the age of 30 wants to own a hot pink purse? As odd as it sounds, I chose the green because it was more subdued than the pink and also the ugly brown. My purse is the perfect size, has the perfect shape, has enough pockets in all the right places for me, and is coated so that it’s waterproof, dirt proof, and is very durable. It’s just ugly as hell.
Now, there were a few Leah bags that came in the classic C signature print, but they were the big, huge purses and they were in the sateen fabric. I wanted the coated canvas for durability and I’m petite so I need a smaller bag. Which gets me to another point…
Why are purses so damned large now? A majority of all purses on the market now are big enough to carry an entire load of laundry plus the bottle of detergent! I see all these teenagers at the mall toting around purses as big as a garbage bag. It’s so out of proportion and I can only imagine how their back, neck, and shoulders feel after a day of slugging it around. I would love to see Coach offer a purse style in multiple sizes (large, medium, and small), colors, prints, and textures/fabric. Maybe they could offer a new feature to “make my custom purse”. I’d be all over that.
And while I’m at it, who thought it would be a good idea to design these big, open purses with only a few teeny pockets on the inside walls? Where are the dividers that split your purse into sections and allowed a bit of organization? I’m tired of rummaging through the endless pit of my purse to find my lip gloss or my keys.
So Coach, if you are listening –you may want to reevaluate your client base and start asking what we want –and listening to our answers. Lest we may get weary of all the games and venture over to Gucci, or Louis Vuitton, or Prada…
Friday, August 6, 2010
Can You Hear That?
Shhhh… Listen closely. That. Right there. Do you hear it? No? Nothing? Excellent! That’s the sound of silence. Quiet. Peace. Tranquility. It’s the sound of my neighbor’s dog not barking!
Yep, my neighbor’s dog has been silent all night and this morning with nary a peep out of it. (And before you even think it --no, I didn’t do anything to the poor animal. I’m bitchy, not hateful.) Shortly after I posted my blog last night, I noticed that I didn’t hear any more barking. Great! I expected it to start up again right about the time my head hit the pillow –but it didn’t. And I was enjoying the tranquility so much that the next thing I knew, it was morning and I had slept clear through the night. Woo Hoo! I feel great, and life is good. (Funny how a good night’s sleep can make everything better.)
So this morning I am wondering what caused the sudden change in animal behavior. Maybe another neighbor complained so they got rid of the dog. Or maybe they are more conscientious than I thought and have brought the dog inside the house so we can’t hear the barking. (Though I doubt this one because it rained all day yesterday and the dog would have been sloppy, wet, and muddy and in dire need of a bath.)
What I find most intriguing is that the barking stopped shortly after I posted the blog. Which leads my ever-suspicious mind to jump to conclusions. Maybe my neighbors have my house tapped. Or maybe, just maybe, they are tapping into my wireless internet and saw the blog themselves. This wild conclusion might seem a bit far fetched at first, but when you take into consideration the fact that my wireless internet has been acting funny ever since they moved in, then it’s not such a far fetched thought.
You see, whenever I’m working online, my internet connection gets broken and I have to reset my router. It’s always at random times and there are no predictable patterns for me to discern why it’s happening. I’ve been frustrated and bewildered by the happenings and have been wondering if hijacking is possible even though my password is so difficult it could not be guessed. Hell, it’s so many random numbers and letters with no significant meaning that I can’t even remember it and have to keep it on file. (OMG! Maybe they are digging through my files too!) I’ve researched possible problems with the router and settings that can be adjusted but nothing ever works and the problem continues. It might occur 20 minutes or two hours after I’ve connected and it’s totally at random. I’ve noticed that it happens more often on Weekend mornings than any other days or times. So I’ve long suspected that somehow, my wireless connection is being interrupted by others nearby using the internet at the same time. Now, I’m no IT professional so I really don’t know if this is all possible. But with all the things that hackers can do, I don’t doubt it. And to think of it, I don’t have a clue about what my neighbor does for a living. He might be an IT pro himself.
Well, just incase this may be true...
Hello my neighbor! Thank you for the quiet, bark-free evening. By the way, your flower garden looks beautiful.
Yep, my neighbor’s dog has been silent all night and this morning with nary a peep out of it. (And before you even think it --no, I didn’t do anything to the poor animal. I’m bitchy, not hateful.) Shortly after I posted my blog last night, I noticed that I didn’t hear any more barking. Great! I expected it to start up again right about the time my head hit the pillow –but it didn’t. And I was enjoying the tranquility so much that the next thing I knew, it was morning and I had slept clear through the night. Woo Hoo! I feel great, and life is good. (Funny how a good night’s sleep can make everything better.)
So this morning I am wondering what caused the sudden change in animal behavior. Maybe another neighbor complained so they got rid of the dog. Or maybe they are more conscientious than I thought and have brought the dog inside the house so we can’t hear the barking. (Though I doubt this one because it rained all day yesterday and the dog would have been sloppy, wet, and muddy and in dire need of a bath.)
What I find most intriguing is that the barking stopped shortly after I posted the blog. Which leads my ever-suspicious mind to jump to conclusions. Maybe my neighbors have my house tapped. Or maybe, just maybe, they are tapping into my wireless internet and saw the blog themselves. This wild conclusion might seem a bit far fetched at first, but when you take into consideration the fact that my wireless internet has been acting funny ever since they moved in, then it’s not such a far fetched thought.
You see, whenever I’m working online, my internet connection gets broken and I have to reset my router. It’s always at random times and there are no predictable patterns for me to discern why it’s happening. I’ve been frustrated and bewildered by the happenings and have been wondering if hijacking is possible even though my password is so difficult it could not be guessed. Hell, it’s so many random numbers and letters with no significant meaning that I can’t even remember it and have to keep it on file. (OMG! Maybe they are digging through my files too!) I’ve researched possible problems with the router and settings that can be adjusted but nothing ever works and the problem continues. It might occur 20 minutes or two hours after I’ve connected and it’s totally at random. I’ve noticed that it happens more often on Weekend mornings than any other days or times. So I’ve long suspected that somehow, my wireless connection is being interrupted by others nearby using the internet at the same time. Now, I’m no IT professional so I really don’t know if this is all possible. But with all the things that hackers can do, I don’t doubt it. And to think of it, I don’t have a clue about what my neighbor does for a living. He might be an IT pro himself.
Well, just incase this may be true...
Hello my neighbor! Thank you for the quiet, bark-free evening. By the way, your flower garden looks beautiful.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
A Letter To My Neighbor
Dear Neighbor:
This may come as a surprise to you, but there seems to be a problem with your new dog. You know, the one you keep in your backyard. Chained to the fence -the one that separates our houses and, technically, is my fence. Anyway, your dog has been barking incessantly during various hours and it's become a real problem. Apparently, it's just a problem for me and not for you, because I'm guessing you can't even hear the constant barking. I say this because I believe any normal, hearing human being would be as fed up as I am after just one day of barking. But it's been a week already and still the barking goes on. Night after night, morning after morning. [I'll interject here to say that I'm not home during business hours so I can't say whether or not the barking is happening during these hours. But I will be home this weekend, so time will tell.] Maybe that's it -you are deaf. Noooo, I've met you so I know that's not it. Maybe you are on an extended vacation and forgot to bring your dog to the doggie hotel. Naah, I can see that your cars in the driveway are moved around from day to day.
So what's a person to do when a neighbor is so blatantly ignorant to other people, so self-absorbed in their own lives that they don't even hear their own dog barking through the night? Well, after being woken time and time again, I have found myself lying in bed and plotting possible moves. I even logged onto the internet this evening and read up on suggestions as to what other people do. Let's just say, some of their suggestions were not very neighborly. (Though, neither are you and your noisy dog.)
From all the ideas I've come up with, there is one that causes me to giggle each time I think of it. [Bear with me while I giggle my way through typing out explanation.] First, I'll need some sort of sound-activated device and to it I would hook up another device that has the capability to launch things at your house each and every time the dog barks. (Okay, so I'm no mechanical engineer, but I'm sure I could figure out what to use and how to accomplish this.) So I load this device each night with things that will be launched at your house on cue. Imagine it: you are sleeping peacefully, soundly in bed. Then the dog starts barking (though you apparently can't hear it) and suddenly you are woken by the sound of things hitting and sliding down your roof. "BARK" and "FWAP" (sound effect of item hitting the roof) and "SSSSCCCRRRRAAAAAPPPPPEEEEE" (sound effect of the item as it slides down along the rough shingles until it falls to the ground).
The best part of all this is that once the barking starts, and the launching begins, your lovely dog will probably hear the racket on the roof and start barking even more. Typically, more barking would bother me, but for this particular event, I'll be sleeping soundly in a hotel across town.
After hearing this happen time and time again, you WILL be wondering what the hell that sound is and/or what is hitting and sliding all over your roof! And I imagine that even if you are brave enough to venture outside in the dark to figure out what the sound is, it will be too dark for you to see my launcher in effect (I'll make sure that it's hidden well). In the morning when you do go outside, you will probably be stunned to see all the stuff (whatever I launched) in your yard. Oh, the possibilities. I think old golf balls would work well. Of course, I'd have to flatten them a bit on the sides with a hammer so that they would slide rather than roll down the roof, thus ensuring more noise for longer. Heh, heh, heh. I could do this a few nights a week until you are as stir crazy as I am right now.
But that's just one of those crazy ideas I came up with while lying awake at 3:00 am listening to your dog bark. On second thought, maybe I'll have my brother & his wife (both mechanical engineers) over for dinner this weekend.
Not So Sincerely,
Your excessively tired, cranky, sleep-deprived, ready to open up a can of whip-ass on you, bitchy neighbor.
This may come as a surprise to you, but there seems to be a problem with your new dog. You know, the one you keep in your backyard. Chained to the fence -the one that separates our houses and, technically, is my fence. Anyway, your dog has been barking incessantly during various hours and it's become a real problem. Apparently, it's just a problem for me and not for you, because I'm guessing you can't even hear the constant barking. I say this because I believe any normal, hearing human being would be as fed up as I am after just one day of barking. But it's been a week already and still the barking goes on. Night after night, morning after morning. [I'll interject here to say that I'm not home during business hours so I can't say whether or not the barking is happening during these hours. But I will be home this weekend, so time will tell.] Maybe that's it -you are deaf. Noooo, I've met you so I know that's not it. Maybe you are on an extended vacation and forgot to bring your dog to the doggie hotel. Naah, I can see that your cars in the driveway are moved around from day to day.
So what's a person to do when a neighbor is so blatantly ignorant to other people, so self-absorbed in their own lives that they don't even hear their own dog barking through the night? Well, after being woken time and time again, I have found myself lying in bed and plotting possible moves. I even logged onto the internet this evening and read up on suggestions as to what other people do. Let's just say, some of their suggestions were not very neighborly. (Though, neither are you and your noisy dog.)
From all the ideas I've come up with, there is one that causes me to giggle each time I think of it. [Bear with me while I giggle my way through typing out explanation.] First, I'll need some sort of sound-activated device and to it I would hook up another device that has the capability to launch things at your house each and every time the dog barks. (Okay, so I'm no mechanical engineer, but I'm sure I could figure out what to use and how to accomplish this.) So I load this device each night with things that will be launched at your house on cue. Imagine it: you are sleeping peacefully, soundly in bed. Then the dog starts barking (though you apparently can't hear it) and suddenly you are woken by the sound of things hitting and sliding down your roof. "BARK" and "FWAP" (sound effect of item hitting the roof) and "SSSSCCCRRRRAAAAAPPPPPEEEEE" (sound effect of the item as it slides down along the rough shingles until it falls to the ground).
The best part of all this is that once the barking starts, and the launching begins, your lovely dog will probably hear the racket on the roof and start barking even more. Typically, more barking would bother me, but for this particular event, I'll be sleeping soundly in a hotel across town.
After hearing this happen time and time again, you WILL be wondering what the hell that sound is and/or what is hitting and sliding all over your roof! And I imagine that even if you are brave enough to venture outside in the dark to figure out what the sound is, it will be too dark for you to see my launcher in effect (I'll make sure that it's hidden well). In the morning when you do go outside, you will probably be stunned to see all the stuff (whatever I launched) in your yard. Oh, the possibilities. I think old golf balls would work well. Of course, I'd have to flatten them a bit on the sides with a hammer so that they would slide rather than roll down the roof, thus ensuring more noise for longer. Heh, heh, heh. I could do this a few nights a week until you are as stir crazy as I am right now.
But that's just one of those crazy ideas I came up with while lying awake at 3:00 am listening to your dog bark. On second thought, maybe I'll have my brother & his wife (both mechanical engineers) over for dinner this weekend.
Not So Sincerely,
Your excessively tired, cranky, sleep-deprived, ready to open up a can of whip-ass on you, bitchy neighbor.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
No Snarky Comments on this topic.
I often hear people say that someone or a situation made them feel intimidated. My response is something that I firmly believe:
Nobody has the power to make you feel intimidated. Period.
Nobody has the power to make you feel anything you don't want to feel. In other words, you allow people to make you feel whatever it is you feel. The power lies in you -not them. Keep that in mind and the next time you think someone is making you feel intimidated, remember it. You will instantly feel empowered and hopefully not feel intimated at all.
Nobody has the power to make you feel intimidated. Period.
Nobody has the power to make you feel anything you don't want to feel. In other words, you allow people to make you feel whatever it is you feel. The power lies in you -not them. Keep that in mind and the next time you think someone is making you feel intimidated, remember it. You will instantly feel empowered and hopefully not feel intimated at all.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Alter Egoe or Split Personality?
My supervisor mentioned today that he would like to read my personal blog. We are attempting to tap into the social media frenzy and both he and I are new to the market. (Yes, I know we are a bit late in the game. Better late than never, right?) I’ve been exploring Twitter and Facebook and blogging on a personal level so that I can get a grasp around the entire concept and how it all works together. I casually mentioned to my boss that I had started a blog to learn how it works -and he asks to see it. Big mistake. My personal blogs are my feelings on various, insignificant matters that may come to mind at any given time. Do I want to give my boss a peek at my inner soul, at who I am and how I feel about things? I’m not so sure about that.
I try to keep my private life separate from my business life. It’s not that I have anything to hide or that I let it all hang out on the weekends (on the contrary –I have nothing to “hang out” anyway). It’s that I don’t want to become one of those people at work who’s life is an open book and that lives for the drama that unfolds. I prefer the simple, quite side of life and it should remain private and separate. I do interface with friends and coworkers about family, kids, vacations, etc., and engage in light conversations that are appropriate around the water cooler. (Do people actually stand around water coolers and talk anymore?)
What I don’t do is divulge details like how this weekend I accidently (it’s always an accident, right?) drank too many martinis at my cousin’s wedding and my husband found me sitting out in front of the hotel, martini glass in hand, soaking my sore feet in the water fountain (you know, the one right there by the circle drive where the valet’s handle all the guests’ cars) and blowing teeny, tiny bubbles with that little bottle you get as a wedding favor. Naah, I don’t think they need to know that kind of stuff about me. And neither does my supervisor.
So maybe a fake blog is in order. I can set one up on a different website and give it a name that obviously points to me (fake of course) and allow him to read about how mundane my life is, how I always exercise and eat right, and how I spend the weekends gardening and reading to the elderly. My alter ego. (Like Bizzarro World on Seinfeld.) But those that I am close to know that I’m far from that. I never have time to exercise, I love food (powdered donuts and skittles are my vice), my thumb has never been a shade of any color resembling green, and reading to the elderly might just mean reading to my aging self. So to keep my private life private, I guess I have to hide behind an alter ego. Hmmm, now that could be fun. [insert sinister laugh here]
I try to keep my private life separate from my business life. It’s not that I have anything to hide or that I let it all hang out on the weekends (on the contrary –I have nothing to “hang out” anyway). It’s that I don’t want to become one of those people at work who’s life is an open book and that lives for the drama that unfolds. I prefer the simple, quite side of life and it should remain private and separate. I do interface with friends and coworkers about family, kids, vacations, etc., and engage in light conversations that are appropriate around the water cooler. (Do people actually stand around water coolers and talk anymore?)
What I don’t do is divulge details like how this weekend I accidently (it’s always an accident, right?) drank too many martinis at my cousin’s wedding and my husband found me sitting out in front of the hotel, martini glass in hand, soaking my sore feet in the water fountain (you know, the one right there by the circle drive where the valet’s handle all the guests’ cars) and blowing teeny, tiny bubbles with that little bottle you get as a wedding favor. Naah, I don’t think they need to know that kind of stuff about me. And neither does my supervisor.
So maybe a fake blog is in order. I can set one up on a different website and give it a name that obviously points to me (fake of course) and allow him to read about how mundane my life is, how I always exercise and eat right, and how I spend the weekends gardening and reading to the elderly. My alter ego. (Like Bizzarro World on Seinfeld.) But those that I am close to know that I’m far from that. I never have time to exercise, I love food (powdered donuts and skittles are my vice), my thumb has never been a shade of any color resembling green, and reading to the elderly might just mean reading to my aging self. So to keep my private life private, I guess I have to hide behind an alter ego. Hmmm, now that could be fun. [insert sinister laugh here]
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Aaah, Young Love!
My youngest daughter (still in toddler mode) comes home from daycare yesterday and proclaims that she is in love!
So innocent, yet this shows me a tad bit more of her true personality. She already assertive and knows what she wants!
DD: Jace is my friend. I loooovvve him.
Me: You love him? Well that's nice. Does he love you?
DD: Yes, but he doesn't know it yet.
Me: [No reply. What do you say to a comment like that?]
So innocent, yet this shows me a tad bit more of her true personality. She already assertive and knows what she wants!
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Confucius is wise, in fact we'd be much wiser taking his advice. :)
1. Marriage is like game of poker. You start with pair and end with full house.
2. Baseball is wrong. Man with four balls cannot walk.
3. War doesn't determine who is right, only who is left.
4. Wife who put husband in doghouse soon find him in cat house.
5. Man who fight with wife all day get no piece at night.
6. Man who run behind car get exhausted.
7. It take many nails to build crib but one screw to fill it.
8. Man who fishes in other man's well often catches crabs.
9. Man who go to bed with itchy butt wake up with stinky fingers.
10. Elevator smell different to midget.
11. Man who farts in church sits in his own pew.
12. He who eats too many prunes, sits on toilet many moons.
2. Baseball is wrong. Man with four balls cannot walk.
3. War doesn't determine who is right, only who is left.
4. Wife who put husband in doghouse soon find him in cat house.
5. Man who fight with wife all day get no piece at night.
6. Man who run behind car get exhausted.
7. It take many nails to build crib but one screw to fill it.
8. Man who fishes in other man's well often catches crabs.
9. Man who go to bed with itchy butt wake up with stinky fingers.
10. Elevator smell different to midget.
11. Man who farts in church sits in his own pew.
12. He who eats too many prunes, sits on toilet many moons.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Life & Everything
My favorite author, Jen Lancaster, once wrote:
“What’s that definition of insanity? When you keep doing the exact same thing and expect different results? Because that’s the hamster wheel I’ve been on for the past few years. The only change I can control –the only difference I can make that isn’t insane—is to modify my own circumstances.”
This is one of the most profound things I’ve read in a very long time. I AM the hamster and my wheel is a-spinning. Sometimes I stumble and fall and the wheel whips me around with it until I can regain my footing. Why then, can’t I just hop out of the wheel and get on with things?
Sometimes I joke with DH about running away. My dream is to move up onto Walton’s Mountain and tuck myself far away from all the crazy people and problems they create in life. I could grow my own produce, as soon as I figure out where my green thumb is, and I could learn to milk a cow like the best of ‘em. Stop laughing! Just hook up the phone line, central air and heat, satellite for my TV and internet and indoor plumbing and I’m all set! The TV remote and internet will allow me to access as much of civilization (whatever that means!) as I choose without actually having to be in it. I could come down from the mountain to visit Ike’s country store whenever I needed to socialize a bit or pick up a pound of coffee. Or I could just order everything over the internet and have it delivered by UPS. Ahhhh, the life!
“What’s that definition of insanity? When you keep doing the exact same thing and expect different results? Because that’s the hamster wheel I’ve been on for the past few years. The only change I can control –the only difference I can make that isn’t insane—is to modify my own circumstances.”
This is one of the most profound things I’ve read in a very long time. I AM the hamster and my wheel is a-spinning. Sometimes I stumble and fall and the wheel whips me around with it until I can regain my footing. Why then, can’t I just hop out of the wheel and get on with things?
Sometimes I joke with DH about running away. My dream is to move up onto Walton’s Mountain and tuck myself far away from all the crazy people and problems they create in life. I could grow my own produce, as soon as I figure out where my green thumb is, and I could learn to milk a cow like the best of ‘em. Stop laughing! Just hook up the phone line, central air and heat, satellite for my TV and internet and indoor plumbing and I’m all set! The TV remote and internet will allow me to access as much of civilization (whatever that means!) as I choose without actually having to be in it. I could come down from the mountain to visit Ike’s country store whenever I needed to socialize a bit or pick up a pound of coffee. Or I could just order everything over the internet and have it delivered by UPS. Ahhhh, the life!
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Let The Games Begin
Just yesterday, I realized –much to my dismay –that my 3 year old is in control. What control I may have had, is now completely in her little hands. I have completely lost it. Both, to her and of myself. Although I am admitting defeat, I have not given up hope that I can overcome this situation and correct the problem. I have made a list of various self-help, child discipline books that I will pick up at the library and the bookstore this weekend. My game plan is to read up (get a clue), prepare my emotional stance (repeat: I love my kids, I love my kids), and man the battle stations (slap on my knee and elbow pads and put on my serious face) in anticipation of the attack of the crazy little people.
My beautiful, intelligent little girl has learned how to play me. And play with me, she does. This not-so-innocent little being of mine, who is a mere 3 years old, already knows how to play and win the game of life. My life, her life, either way –she is winning. I have gone from a person who has it all together to someone that is hanging on to what’s left of her sanity by a teensy, little, raveled thread.
I have tried everything. Super Nanny Jo Frost would be proud of my initial persistence, but I’m sure she would place me in the naughty chair after discovering that I have the patience of, well, a 3 year old. After 3 years of constant sleep deprivation –I can literally count on both hands the number of times I’ve successfully slept through the entire night without being woken –stamina in that department is not my strong point. I often wonder if Nanny Jo would be able to perform her miracles if she was living my life. Yes, she’s a great nanny and knows how to be in control, but she doesn’t work a full time, stressful, demanding job outside of the house every Monday through Friday while her husband is off working his 70-hour per week, sporadic schedule notwithstanding, job leaving her to play the single mom role. Jo Frost’s experience as a nanny came from her being just that –a nanny. While she was being nanny to two or three or four children, I doubt that she had to simultaneously manage the household finances (pay all the bills, deposit the checks, pay the taxes, etc.) , handle all the shopping, attend school functions (somebody has to be there with the video camera!), cook all meals, clean the house, wash the clothes, work a separate, full-time, out of the house job --all in addition to doing homework, reading bedtime stories, and sitting through countless birthday parties at Chuck-E-Cheese.
I mean, if her job is to be there for the kids, then she would have no clue what it means when you get that call from the school nurse that little Jessica has just thrown up in class and you have to cancel your next meeting and drop whatever you are working on to go pick her up immediately and spend the remainder of the day at home holding said little sick one. And then the next day is shot too because you can’t send her back to school just yet ‘cause she’s still a bit nauseous so you miss another day of work. Did I hear someone suggest working from home? Yeah, I’ve tried that too -doesn’t work. I don’t mean to be trashing Nanny Jo (truth is, I love watching her do her magic –as if I might actually be able to do it myself!), but I find it hard to find comfort and guidance in other people when the reality is –their lives are very different than mine and their solutions just don’t work for me.
I know persistence is the key to being in control. I know that kids thrive on routine and take comfort in knowing what is happening in their world and what is expected of them. See, I have actually read up on the matters in my desperate search for guidance. I know that when my child gets out of bed at night, repeatedly, I am supposed to –without acknowledging her actions (which usually include hitting, kicking, crying, screaming –not always in that order) or looking her in the eye –put her back into bed without so much as a hint of stress. Umm, yeah. Right. I also know that the process –her getting up, me putting her back, her getting up, me putting her back –could go on and on for hours until she (1) tires of the game and realizes it’s not fun anymore and stays in bed (I wish!) or (2) she gets physically tired and falls asleep (which means she didn’t learn anything at all and the game will start all over again tomorrow night). Yay!
Secret third option that I probably shouldn’t note lest Nanny Jo puts me back in the naughty chair: Mommy, in her chronically fatigued manner, tires of the game after the third round, loses her self control, and completely falls apart in front of the child. Her ranting and raving about STAYING IN BED AND NOT GETTING UP AGAIN! fall on deaf ears as this just reinforces the fact that the GAME IS ON and the little one is winning.
Options one and two above may be fine and dandy for a stay-at-home mom who doesn’t have a 8:30am meeting at the office in the morning. But for the rest of us who have bosses that expect us to report to the office each and every morning, Monday through Friday, bright-eyed, bushy tailed and rearing to give 100% effort in exchange for the agreed-to compensation, spending two or three hours playing the “bounce out of bed” game all night is not exactly a realistic option. And don’t even suggest that we take an entire day off in order to teach her how it’s going to be done. Do you really think that by having my work pile up for me at the office –waiting for my return so that I can be bombarded with an abundance of “must be handled immediately” issues –is an option to consider? There aren’t enough hours in the day as it is and I find myself running many errands on my lunch hour just so that I don’t have to do them with my wonderful children in tow. This makes the tasks much faster to accomplish and less stressful. Lunch hours are not just for lunch anymore. Rarely do I ever just eat on my lunch hour. “My” lunch hour. That isn’t realistic at all. I should call it the “errand hour” or “task hour”.
Here’s a typical scene from my life:
After putting in a full day of work at the office, I rush to the daycare to pick up my 3 year old who immediately, and quite proudly, announces that she “had no timeouts today”. However, her cunning smile and quickly darting eyes tell a different story –as does the daily Time Out report attached to her sign-out sheet. To my dismay, she had three time-outs. One for hitting a child, another for throwing toys, and another for simply not listing to the teacher. Add to it the fact that she just tried to lie to me about not having any (just so that she can still get her usual treat when we get to the car), and my count of naughty events is already at four and we haven’t made it to the car yet.
We make it outside to the car and while I am unlocking and opening the door, my inquisitive little blossom finds fascination in the many interesting rocks beneath our feet. She retrieves a large one, a nice grey piece of limestone about the size of a half-dollar (remember those?), and I ask her to put it back down so we can get into the car. Her quick response is “no” and she pulls her hand in close, against her side in an attempt to hide her precious treasure. As I reach for her hand, telling her that we don’t play with rocks and to please put it down, she quickly pitches the rock –directly onto the hood of the car to our immediate left. The car’s owner just happens to be at the car’s side and we both watch in stunned silence as the rock skims the hood of the car, bounces off the top edge of the hood, tumbles up the windshield, and then rolls back down and across the hood. ACK!! Luckily, there was no obvious damage and the owner didn’t seem to be as shocked as I was. My look of horror, immediate apology (OMG, I am soooooooo sorry!), and quick scolding of my child must have been enough to satisfy her as she quickly went back to her business of buckling her child into the car seat. I spend the next five minutes fussing at and explaining to my child just why throwing rocks is not allowed and that she had better not pick up any more rocks. Then I spend another five minutes trying to get her to understand that mommy is quite disappointed because of the timeouts. All the while, my sweet, innocent-looking child is silently peering out the window –obviously tuning me out.
We finally arrive home and my tween-aged DD, who has been instructed to “be dressed appropriately and ready to go when I get home” meets us at the door. Her sense of style is pretty good at this point, but she hasn’t grasped the concept that you don’t wear plaids and stripes together. She is sent back to her room to change her striped slacks to plain black jeans and to hurry because we are leaving for the restaurant in five minutes. My rock-throwing child and I head to the closet to change her top to something without traces of lunch, paint, and whatever the hell that other stain is. “Nooo! I don’t want to wear that shirt. I like this one,” she yells. I don’t know what I am thinking when I try to reason with her –“But this one is all dirty. And it even has a hole in the sleeve,” I say as I point to the little hole. Peering directly at the hole, but pretending it isn’t there, she states “that’s no hole.” And so the battle begins. “Look honey, we have to hurry and get changed because Aunt Angie is waiting for us to have dinner with her.” “But why?” she asks. “Because it’s her birthday and she wants us to celebrate it with her,” I explain. “But I don’t want to” she complains. This could go on forever. “Just put on the shirt so we can go,” I tell her. “Nooo!” Three minutes of struggling with the wiggling worm she has just become and I finally manage to get the shirt changed. Now her hair is a disaster and has to be redone. Grabbing the brush and a hair tie, I decide to delay the impending fight until we arrive at the restaurant, hoping that the enticement of new crayons and activity pad will get her to allow me to fix her hair.
An hour into dinner and things are going pretty well. My little angel is behaving very well and keeps acknowledging this fact to me –as if I had better be taking notice now because it will be changing very soon. So far, we have only had to visit the restroom once –to play the “I don’t really have to potty but I do need to check out the facilities” game and were lucky to get it over with before our food arrived. So far, so good. Her uncle has been keeping her preoccupied and coloring with her (you can never go wrong with crayons and activity books!) so I have actually been able to eat some of my food while it’s still warm. An incredible feat in my world and something I am quick to acknowledge. Thank you Uncle B.!
Tween-aged DD, behaving quite nicely herself, has finished her meal and needs to use the restroom. I instruct her to sneak away while I distract lil’ DD’s attention. No more than a minute goes by before my little hawk-eye notices the absence and she hops off the chair and dashes away in search of her missing sibling. I immediately play chase, turning the corner she just darted around and stop short. Did she go right toward the front door or left down the hall to the bathroom?! My heart skips a beat as I think of her headed toward the front door and out into the parking lot –right next to the busy boulevard! Oh yes, she would. But my instincts steer me to the left toward the bathroom and just as I walk in, I see her run into a stall and slam the door. A quick spanking –no tears, I notice –and we are headed back to the table where she smiles and colors and acts like nothing out of the ordinary has happened. It’s all a game, and I have just lost.
With a set bedtime of 8:00 pm, the “Bedtime Games” typically start around 7:30 pm. Tween-aged DD is shuffled off to the shower with instructions to hurry up because it’s almost bedtime. Does she kick into high gear? Nooo. She continues on at her normal, I’m in no hurry at all, pace. In the meantime, I have to corral the 3 year old into her pajamas, get her teeth brushed, get her to potty, read three books, argue about why she shouldn’t sleep with the three books in her bed all night, finally compromise and agree that she can sleep with 1 small soft cover book, toss under the covers all the stuffed animals that are within her sight and being wined for, tuck her in, give kisses and hugs, and turn out the light. Before I can even make it into the living room –a mere 8 feet from her doorway –she is behind me, giggling and laughing about being out of bed. And the games begin.
My beautiful, intelligent little girl has learned how to play me. And play with me, she does. This not-so-innocent little being of mine, who is a mere 3 years old, already knows how to play and win the game of life. My life, her life, either way –she is winning. I have gone from a person who has it all together to someone that is hanging on to what’s left of her sanity by a teensy, little, raveled thread.
I have tried everything. Super Nanny Jo Frost would be proud of my initial persistence, but I’m sure she would place me in the naughty chair after discovering that I have the patience of, well, a 3 year old. After 3 years of constant sleep deprivation –I can literally count on both hands the number of times I’ve successfully slept through the entire night without being woken –stamina in that department is not my strong point. I often wonder if Nanny Jo would be able to perform her miracles if she was living my life. Yes, she’s a great nanny and knows how to be in control, but she doesn’t work a full time, stressful, demanding job outside of the house every Monday through Friday while her husband is off working his 70-hour per week, sporadic schedule notwithstanding, job leaving her to play the single mom role. Jo Frost’s experience as a nanny came from her being just that –a nanny. While she was being nanny to two or three or four children, I doubt that she had to simultaneously manage the household finances (pay all the bills, deposit the checks, pay the taxes, etc.) , handle all the shopping, attend school functions (somebody has to be there with the video camera!), cook all meals, clean the house, wash the clothes, work a separate, full-time, out of the house job --all in addition to doing homework, reading bedtime stories, and sitting through countless birthday parties at Chuck-E-Cheese.
I mean, if her job is to be there for the kids, then she would have no clue what it means when you get that call from the school nurse that little Jessica has just thrown up in class and you have to cancel your next meeting and drop whatever you are working on to go pick her up immediately and spend the remainder of the day at home holding said little sick one. And then the next day is shot too because you can’t send her back to school just yet ‘cause she’s still a bit nauseous so you miss another day of work. Did I hear someone suggest working from home? Yeah, I’ve tried that too -doesn’t work. I don’t mean to be trashing Nanny Jo (truth is, I love watching her do her magic –as if I might actually be able to do it myself!), but I find it hard to find comfort and guidance in other people when the reality is –their lives are very different than mine and their solutions just don’t work for me.
I know persistence is the key to being in control. I know that kids thrive on routine and take comfort in knowing what is happening in their world and what is expected of them. See, I have actually read up on the matters in my desperate search for guidance. I know that when my child gets out of bed at night, repeatedly, I am supposed to –without acknowledging her actions (which usually include hitting, kicking, crying, screaming –not always in that order) or looking her in the eye –put her back into bed without so much as a hint of stress. Umm, yeah. Right. I also know that the process –her getting up, me putting her back, her getting up, me putting her back –could go on and on for hours until she (1) tires of the game and realizes it’s not fun anymore and stays in bed (I wish!) or (2) she gets physically tired and falls asleep (which means she didn’t learn anything at all and the game will start all over again tomorrow night). Yay!
Secret third option that I probably shouldn’t note lest Nanny Jo puts me back in the naughty chair: Mommy, in her chronically fatigued manner, tires of the game after the third round, loses her self control, and completely falls apart in front of the child. Her ranting and raving about STAYING IN BED AND NOT GETTING UP AGAIN! fall on deaf ears as this just reinforces the fact that the GAME IS ON and the little one is winning.
Options one and two above may be fine and dandy for a stay-at-home mom who doesn’t have a 8:30am meeting at the office in the morning. But for the rest of us who have bosses that expect us to report to the office each and every morning, Monday through Friday, bright-eyed, bushy tailed and rearing to give 100% effort in exchange for the agreed-to compensation, spending two or three hours playing the “bounce out of bed” game all night is not exactly a realistic option. And don’t even suggest that we take an entire day off in order to teach her how it’s going to be done. Do you really think that by having my work pile up for me at the office –waiting for my return so that I can be bombarded with an abundance of “must be handled immediately” issues –is an option to consider? There aren’t enough hours in the day as it is and I find myself running many errands on my lunch hour just so that I don’t have to do them with my wonderful children in tow. This makes the tasks much faster to accomplish and less stressful. Lunch hours are not just for lunch anymore. Rarely do I ever just eat on my lunch hour. “My” lunch hour. That isn’t realistic at all. I should call it the “errand hour” or “task hour”.
Here’s a typical scene from my life:
After putting in a full day of work at the office, I rush to the daycare to pick up my 3 year old who immediately, and quite proudly, announces that she “had no timeouts today”. However, her cunning smile and quickly darting eyes tell a different story –as does the daily Time Out report attached to her sign-out sheet. To my dismay, she had three time-outs. One for hitting a child, another for throwing toys, and another for simply not listing to the teacher. Add to it the fact that she just tried to lie to me about not having any (just so that she can still get her usual treat when we get to the car), and my count of naughty events is already at four and we haven’t made it to the car yet.
We make it outside to the car and while I am unlocking and opening the door, my inquisitive little blossom finds fascination in the many interesting rocks beneath our feet. She retrieves a large one, a nice grey piece of limestone about the size of a half-dollar (remember those?), and I ask her to put it back down so we can get into the car. Her quick response is “no” and she pulls her hand in close, against her side in an attempt to hide her precious treasure. As I reach for her hand, telling her that we don’t play with rocks and to please put it down, she quickly pitches the rock –directly onto the hood of the car to our immediate left. The car’s owner just happens to be at the car’s side and we both watch in stunned silence as the rock skims the hood of the car, bounces off the top edge of the hood, tumbles up the windshield, and then rolls back down and across the hood. ACK!! Luckily, there was no obvious damage and the owner didn’t seem to be as shocked as I was. My look of horror, immediate apology (OMG, I am soooooooo sorry!), and quick scolding of my child must have been enough to satisfy her as she quickly went back to her business of buckling her child into the car seat. I spend the next five minutes fussing at and explaining to my child just why throwing rocks is not allowed and that she had better not pick up any more rocks. Then I spend another five minutes trying to get her to understand that mommy is quite disappointed because of the timeouts. All the while, my sweet, innocent-looking child is silently peering out the window –obviously tuning me out.
We finally arrive home and my tween-aged DD, who has been instructed to “be dressed appropriately and ready to go when I get home” meets us at the door. Her sense of style is pretty good at this point, but she hasn’t grasped the concept that you don’t wear plaids and stripes together. She is sent back to her room to change her striped slacks to plain black jeans and to hurry because we are leaving for the restaurant in five minutes. My rock-throwing child and I head to the closet to change her top to something without traces of lunch, paint, and whatever the hell that other stain is. “Nooo! I don’t want to wear that shirt. I like this one,” she yells. I don’t know what I am thinking when I try to reason with her –“But this one is all dirty. And it even has a hole in the sleeve,” I say as I point to the little hole. Peering directly at the hole, but pretending it isn’t there, she states “that’s no hole.” And so the battle begins. “Look honey, we have to hurry and get changed because Aunt Angie is waiting for us to have dinner with her.” “But why?” she asks. “Because it’s her birthday and she wants us to celebrate it with her,” I explain. “But I don’t want to” she complains. This could go on forever. “Just put on the shirt so we can go,” I tell her. “Nooo!” Three minutes of struggling with the wiggling worm she has just become and I finally manage to get the shirt changed. Now her hair is a disaster and has to be redone. Grabbing the brush and a hair tie, I decide to delay the impending fight until we arrive at the restaurant, hoping that the enticement of new crayons and activity pad will get her to allow me to fix her hair.
An hour into dinner and things are going pretty well. My little angel is behaving very well and keeps acknowledging this fact to me –as if I had better be taking notice now because it will be changing very soon. So far, we have only had to visit the restroom once –to play the “I don’t really have to potty but I do need to check out the facilities” game and were lucky to get it over with before our food arrived. So far, so good. Her uncle has been keeping her preoccupied and coloring with her (you can never go wrong with crayons and activity books!) so I have actually been able to eat some of my food while it’s still warm. An incredible feat in my world and something I am quick to acknowledge. Thank you Uncle B.!
Tween-aged DD, behaving quite nicely herself, has finished her meal and needs to use the restroom. I instruct her to sneak away while I distract lil’ DD’s attention. No more than a minute goes by before my little hawk-eye notices the absence and she hops off the chair and dashes away in search of her missing sibling. I immediately play chase, turning the corner she just darted around and stop short. Did she go right toward the front door or left down the hall to the bathroom?! My heart skips a beat as I think of her headed toward the front door and out into the parking lot –right next to the busy boulevard! Oh yes, she would. But my instincts steer me to the left toward the bathroom and just as I walk in, I see her run into a stall and slam the door. A quick spanking –no tears, I notice –and we are headed back to the table where she smiles and colors and acts like nothing out of the ordinary has happened. It’s all a game, and I have just lost.
With a set bedtime of 8:00 pm, the “Bedtime Games” typically start around 7:30 pm. Tween-aged DD is shuffled off to the shower with instructions to hurry up because it’s almost bedtime. Does she kick into high gear? Nooo. She continues on at her normal, I’m in no hurry at all, pace. In the meantime, I have to corral the 3 year old into her pajamas, get her teeth brushed, get her to potty, read three books, argue about why she shouldn’t sleep with the three books in her bed all night, finally compromise and agree that she can sleep with 1 small soft cover book, toss under the covers all the stuffed animals that are within her sight and being wined for, tuck her in, give kisses and hugs, and turn out the light. Before I can even make it into the living room –a mere 8 feet from her doorway –she is behind me, giggling and laughing about being out of bed. And the games begin.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
What Do I Want To Be When I Grow Up?
We all ask ourselves that at some point in our lives, but not typically at my age. (I'm not what I'd consider old, but the younger crowd would. I'm too old to be grouped with the young crowd, and too young to be grouped with the old crowd. I'm lost somewhere in the middle.) You would think, by now I should know what I'm doing and where I'm going, but when it comes to my career, I don't. Career --that's not really appropriate here. I feel that a career is something you strive for, work at, and build up. Something you want -not something you fell into. Which is where I am in my job.
It’s gotten to the point where the frustrations at my job outweigh the salary, benefits, and sense of accomplishments. I often find myself wondering what I’m doing here. I don’t belong in this company, or in this job.
I consider my options over lunch at my desk. Perusing the internet for job openings in my area provide the reality of my world: I am not qualified to do anything important/significant/life changing and I’m overqualified to do anything menial. There are no openings for my dream job –the Wal-Mart greeter –and I’m not sure what else I want to do. I have a large number of years of experience as an Executive Legal Assistant, but it’s just busy work. With the exception of one boss who was the absolute best ever, the rest have all been major pains. Each position I’ve held has brought its own challenges and I had the opportunity to work with a boss from hell –twice! Lucky me. My days of babysitting executive professionals in top careers are over and I have no desire to revisit those nightmares. I am currently employed in a position for which I am really not qualified and do not understand and I’m not sure how I’m fudging my way through each day. Guess a similar position in another company, possibly one that’s not so dysfunctional, shouldn’t be an option. Anything in the customer service field where I have to interact with the idiots of the world is not an option. I’ve always been very polite and professional, but as my age creeps upward, I find it more difficult to not be cynical and snarky when someone pisses me off. So anything in retail, sales, or food service is out. I’m not a nurse and have no medical background, and only minimal IT experience so those professions are out. What’s left? Being a SAHM is not an option –hell, I often think of work as an escape from being at home with the kids. I’d like to try something new like maybe being a librarian. But if I recall from seeing other job openings in years past, they require a degree of some sort. Can’t imagine why they would require a degree to put books on the shelf, pull books off the shelf, check out books, etc. I know my abc’s and 123’s, plus I have experience in filing and using computer systems so I’d be a shoe-in. But alas, there are no openings and I suspect it’s because the librarians all know what a cushy job they have and they don’t want to give ‘em up.
There has got to be something out there for a cynical, snarky perfectionist and I’m going to find it –eventually.
It’s gotten to the point where the frustrations at my job outweigh the salary, benefits, and sense of accomplishments. I often find myself wondering what I’m doing here. I don’t belong in this company, or in this job.
I consider my options over lunch at my desk. Perusing the internet for job openings in my area provide the reality of my world: I am not qualified to do anything important/significant/life changing and I’m overqualified to do anything menial. There are no openings for my dream job –the Wal-Mart greeter –and I’m not sure what else I want to do. I have a large number of years of experience as an Executive Legal Assistant, but it’s just busy work. With the exception of one boss who was the absolute best ever, the rest have all been major pains. Each position I’ve held has brought its own challenges and I had the opportunity to work with a boss from hell –twice! Lucky me. My days of babysitting executive professionals in top careers are over and I have no desire to revisit those nightmares. I am currently employed in a position for which I am really not qualified and do not understand and I’m not sure how I’m fudging my way through each day. Guess a similar position in another company, possibly one that’s not so dysfunctional, shouldn’t be an option. Anything in the customer service field where I have to interact with the idiots of the world is not an option. I’ve always been very polite and professional, but as my age creeps upward, I find it more difficult to not be cynical and snarky when someone pisses me off. So anything in retail, sales, or food service is out. I’m not a nurse and have no medical background, and only minimal IT experience so those professions are out. What’s left? Being a SAHM is not an option –hell, I often think of work as an escape from being at home with the kids. I’d like to try something new like maybe being a librarian. But if I recall from seeing other job openings in years past, they require a degree of some sort. Can’t imagine why they would require a degree to put books on the shelf, pull books off the shelf, check out books, etc. I know my abc’s and 123’s, plus I have experience in filing and using computer systems so I’d be a shoe-in. But alas, there are no openings and I suspect it’s because the librarians all know what a cushy job they have and they don’t want to give ‘em up.
There has got to be something out there for a cynical, snarky perfectionist and I’m going to find it –eventually.
New Coach Outlet Opening & Coupon
Friday, July 2, 2010
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Toddler Speak?
My toddler is having a really tough time with some particular elements of the English language. Specifically, with pronouns –and they are confusing her to no end. Here’s the course of a recent conversation we had while driving in the car:
DD: Mom, I saw a boy on a bike back there.
Me: Wow, that’s pretty cool.
DD: Where was him’s mommy?
Me: Not him’s. Where was his mommy.
DD: Yeah, where was him’s mommy.
Me: His mommy, sweetie. Say it with me –where-was-his-mommy?
DD: (complying to shut me up) Where-was-his-mommy. I didn’t see she. Him was all by himself.
Me: No sweetie –he was all by himself. Say it right.
DD: He-was-all-by-him’s-self. Where was her?
Me: (sigh) Where-was-she. (!) I’m starting to see why this is so confusing to she, er, her.
DD: Where-was-she.
Me: Very good. I think she was standing by the door but you just couldn’t see her.
DD: Mom, please turn up the radio.
(sigh)
I don’t know how many times we’ve had similar, confusing conversations and it just hasn’t clicked for her yet. I’m sure it will, but until it does, the he/him’s, she/her’s, and we’s (as in, we have a pool at we’s house) are absolutely maddening.
I’m starting to feel a bit of sympathy for people that are attempting to learn English as a second language.
DD: Mom, I saw a boy on a bike back there.
Me: Wow, that’s pretty cool.
DD: Where was him’s mommy?
Me: Not him’s. Where was his mommy.
DD: Yeah, where was him’s mommy.
Me: His mommy, sweetie. Say it with me –where-was-his-mommy?
DD: (complying to shut me up) Where-was-his-mommy. I didn’t see she. Him was all by himself.
Me: No sweetie –he was all by himself. Say it right.
DD: He-was-all-by-him’s-self. Where was her?
Me: (sigh) Where-was-she. (!) I’m starting to see why this is so confusing to she, er, her.
DD: Where-was-she.
Me: Very good. I think she was standing by the door but you just couldn’t see her.
DD: Mom, please turn up the radio.
(sigh)
I don’t know how many times we’ve had similar, confusing conversations and it just hasn’t clicked for her yet. I’m sure it will, but until it does, the he/him’s, she/her’s, and we’s (as in, we have a pool at we’s house) are absolutely maddening.
I’m starting to feel a bit of sympathy for people that are attempting to learn English as a second language.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Food-Oriented Vacations
I’m wondering how normal it is to plan a vacation with your destination based on what restaurants and food are in the area. Who’s with me on this? DH and I just did this —we discussed optional destinations and pretty much chose one because it has all kinds of restaurants that we want to visit. Types of food that we’ve enjoyed on past trips but are not in our local area and places that we’ve seen on Food Network and want to experience. Yes, of course we planned other events to do in the area because we can’t exactly eat all day long. (Could we do that?!) Shopping venues were taken into consideration, as were gourmet/specialty grocery stores (Trader Joe’s PLEASE, PLEASE come to my cit!) and then maybe a few special events like a local farmer’s market or a wine festival (yes, food again). But mostly, we are excited about the food.
I guess we tend to be less like tourists and more like semi-locals. I’d rather get lost in a (foreign-to-me) mall, take in a movie, and eat at a localized non-chain restaurant than to don a camera (might as well stamp TOURIST on my forehead) and trudge through the museum of whateverthecityisbestknownfor. No, I’m not against learning about history and culture. It’s just that many of these places are so damned boring. I’d rather learn about the culture by experiencing it with the people. Okay, so shopping at Saks may not exactly teach me much about the area, but friendly chat with someone in line at the farmer’s market will. And if I ask nicely, they may tell me the best places to go to experience more local culture (and hopefully a good restaurant).
Manga!
I guess we tend to be less like tourists and more like semi-locals. I’d rather get lost in a (foreign-to-me) mall, take in a movie, and eat at a localized non-chain restaurant than to don a camera (might as well stamp TOURIST on my forehead) and trudge through the museum of whateverthecityisbestknownfor. No, I’m not against learning about history and culture. It’s just that many of these places are so damned boring. I’d rather learn about the culture by experiencing it with the people. Okay, so shopping at Saks may not exactly teach me much about the area, but friendly chat with someone in line at the farmer’s market will. And if I ask nicely, they may tell me the best places to go to experience more local culture (and hopefully a good restaurant).
Manga!
Friday, June 25, 2010
IT’S FRICKEN FA’REAL FRIDAY!
Today is Friday –otherwise known (in my department) as "Fricken Fa'Real Friday." FF’F, for short, is a variation of TGIF, but in a real world kind of way. I don’t know about you, but by the time I reach Friday morning and have had that first cup of coffee, I am beyond sweet sentiments like TGIF. What I usually am is ready to laser-eye burn the next, unsuspecting candidate that walks into my office and asks for help on something that doesn’t even remotely relate to my job or asks me for something that has to be completed today, but that they knew about two weeks ago! Breathe easy. To both requests (and many others that may come your way throughout the day), you can simply say:
ARE YOU FRICKEN FA'REAL!
Example: "I need that report completed by noon"; the correct response would be, "ARE YOU FRICKEN FA'REAL"!
Depending on the tone you use, the unsuspecting victim will either duck and retreat or stand there in shock, silently staring at you while trying to discern what to do next. Usually, it’s the latter –which is quite funny in itself, but makes it hard for me to keep a straight face.
I must give credit where credit is due –thanks D for making me aware of this (and four others, yet to be revealed) very special day!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
My Favorite Author & Blog. Real Life Humor at Its Best!
I just read Jen's latest book -My Fair Lazy and it was really funny, as are all of her books. She's a product of the 80's and so I can relate to much of what she's writing about. I love her little footnote comments because you can finish the sentence (and not lose the train of thought) and then peek at the footnote to see her "snarky" comment on the matter. True genius!
Love her blog: www.jennsylvania.com
- Bitter is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass,Or, Why You Should Never Carry A Prada Bag to the Unemployment Office
- Bright Lights, Big Ass: A Self-Indulgent, Surly, Ex-Sorority Girl's Guide to Why it Often Sucks in the City, or Who are These Idiots and Why Do They All Live Next Door to Me?
- Such a Pretty Fat: One Narcissist's Quest to Discover If Her Life Makes Her Ass Look Big, or Why Pie Is Not the Answer
- Pretty in Plaid: A Life, A Witch, and a Wardrobe, or, the Wonder Years Before the Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smart-Ass Phase
- My Fair Lazy: One Reality Television Addict's Attempt to Discover If Not Being A Dumb Ass Is the New Black, or, a Culture-Up Manifesto
Love her blog: www.jennsylvania.com
Now What?
Okay, I admit it. I’m a newbie at blogging. Okay, okay. I’m a newbie with all social medias. I know –it’s just sad. This is my very first attempt at a blog, I’ve never twittered or tweeted or whatever it’s called, I only recently set up a Facebook account (so that I could get a free product sample that I heard about), and I don’t text. Nope, I don’t even text. My cell phone is just that –a cell phone. It doesn’t have a camera, MP3 player, special apps, or fancy ringtones. It’s just an old flip phone (no, not the old Motarola kind —though I still have my first one somewhere in my garage) and it’s used for calling people, which seems to be a lost art. It has web access-ability (is that a word?) but I never use it and it has text-ability (again, is this a word?), but I don’t use it. And I do occasionally receive texts from a few friends who can’t seem to remember that I don’t text.
Sidebar: When did it become acceptable to send a Happy Birthday text in lieu of a mailed greeting card or a friendly phone call?
It’s not that I don’t think social media is relevant –it is here to stay –it’s just that I’ve been so busy with life that all the technology, and media, and apps, have just flown by me. I’m so far behind that I’m not sure how to catch up. Running full speed ahead seems to be the only way and with this blog, I’ve put on my shoes and laced them up. Hey, maybe my snazzy new running shoes that I bought last weekend at DSW will help me out. Nike even printed a nice motivator on the bottom of the shoe that reads: “I run like a girl. Try to keep up.” Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. I love it!
So now that I have this blog, what do I do with it. I need interesting information, readable content. I need bubbles! Yes, I said bubbles. You know, those little things that pop up above a cartoon character’s head to show you what they are thinking or saying or doing? Bubbles! My bubbles seem to appear at the wrong times –when I can’t exactly write them down. Like in the shower (who brings a pen in the shower?), in the car (I don’t know about you but anything I write while driving is unreadable chicken scratch), in meetings (yeah, you know all those notes you jot down on your pad just end up lost amongst all the real, valuable business information that you lose on your desk), in church (shame on me!), in the grocery store (I’m lucky if I remember to get the milk I dashed in for so I’m not going to chance it by stopping to jot down a random thought or my kids face a dry, milkless bowl of Cheerios in the morning), etc.
I guess blogging about my random thoughts is not going to be as random as they are in my mind. Maybe I should get one of those voice recording pens (oooh, with a laser pointer!!) so that I can recall those random bubbles. But then there is still the shower issue. Hmmm…
Sidebar: When did it become acceptable to send a Happy Birthday text in lieu of a mailed greeting card or a friendly phone call?
It’s not that I don’t think social media is relevant –it is here to stay –it’s just that I’ve been so busy with life that all the technology, and media, and apps, have just flown by me. I’m so far behind that I’m not sure how to catch up. Running full speed ahead seems to be the only way and with this blog, I’ve put on my shoes and laced them up. Hey, maybe my snazzy new running shoes that I bought last weekend at DSW will help me out. Nike even printed a nice motivator on the bottom of the shoe that reads: “I run like a girl. Try to keep up.” Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. I love it!
So now that I have this blog, what do I do with it. I need interesting information, readable content. I need bubbles! Yes, I said bubbles. You know, those little things that pop up above a cartoon character’s head to show you what they are thinking or saying or doing? Bubbles! My bubbles seem to appear at the wrong times –when I can’t exactly write them down. Like in the shower (who brings a pen in the shower?), in the car (I don’t know about you but anything I write while driving is unreadable chicken scratch), in meetings (yeah, you know all those notes you jot down on your pad just end up lost amongst all the real, valuable business information that you lose on your desk), in church (shame on me!), in the grocery store (I’m lucky if I remember to get the milk I dashed in for so I’m not going to chance it by stopping to jot down a random thought or my kids face a dry, milkless bowl of Cheerios in the morning), etc.
I guess blogging about my random thoughts is not going to be as random as they are in my mind. Maybe I should get one of those voice recording pens (oooh, with a laser pointer!!) so that I can recall those random bubbles. But then there is still the shower issue. Hmmm…
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