One thing you should know about me: I am not a conspiracy theorist. Really. However, I do believe the moon landing was staged. I don't think it was done with malice, but I do think it was done.
Another thing you should know: I worship at the alter of my public library. Best. Place. On. Earth.
That said.....
I was reading a magazine article the other day and they used a book, published in 1999, as a source. I jotted down the title to search for in the inter-library loan system(state-wide). When I went to search, the book was not in the system. That's not so unusual all by itself. Afterall, there are something like 5 million books in print at any given time and I do not really expect the Ohio library system to purchase a copy of each one. So instead of searching for a specific title, I did a general search. I tried "moon landing hoax" "apollo 11 hoax" and every variation I could think of. There is not a single book about the subject available through Ohio public libraries. Odd.
So just to amuse myself (and my inner Paranoid was curious) I googled some books about the JFK assassination, particularly those that suggested the government/CIA/lemurs on crack did it. I wrote down 7-8 titles. One interesting one was pretty bold, the title was something like "Why the CIA killed Kennedy." Then I went back to the library site. They don't carry any of those books either.
Now I know the library needs permission to purchase every book. I know the state or whoever has the ultimate power to say which books are ultimately allowed to end up on the shelves for the reading public. But, really? I issue the challenge that nobody can find a book that says the U.S. government did something 'wrong.' The library just won't carry them. (Yep, I know history is written by the winners - I went to public school after all)
Part of me wants to say it's a conspiracy. (looking over shoulder furtively) But I'm not that kind of person. Really.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
Versatile, isn't it?
I have discovered that everyone I know, with the exception of siblings raised in the same house, make Ramen noodles in a different way.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
How I lost 5 pounds in 7 days
Yep, not a huge loss, but one I'm proud of. I'll even share the secret to my success. Are you ready for it?
Diet and exercise.
Surprising, huh? No magic fat-melting pills, no fad food programs, no weight-loss group like WW that cost $XX a month plus food.
I cut calories and fat and did about 30-45 minutes of moderate workouts everyday. Isn't it amazing? Why has everyone been keeping this from us all these years?! Those bastards.
The only "fad" thing I did was replace the diet soda I was drinking with unsweetened green tea. (Totally unsweetened, no sugar, no artificial stuff. Blech). I was drinking a LOT of diet soda.
I forced myself to get up and do something. Instead of sitting watching TV, I got up and cleaned out a closet. Rather than lay on the couch and read a book, I rearranged the cluttered shelves in the study.
And you know what else? I'm going to keep doing it. I know it's drastic, but those 5 pounds are just the tip of the iceberg.
Diet and exercise.
Surprising, huh? No magic fat-melting pills, no fad food programs, no weight-loss group like WW that cost $XX a month plus food.
I cut calories and fat and did about 30-45 minutes of moderate workouts everyday. Isn't it amazing? Why has everyone been keeping this from us all these years?! Those bastards.
The only "fad" thing I did was replace the diet soda I was drinking with unsweetened green tea. (Totally unsweetened, no sugar, no artificial stuff. Blech). I was drinking a LOT of diet soda.
I forced myself to get up and do something. Instead of sitting watching TV, I got up and cleaned out a closet. Rather than lay on the couch and read a book, I rearranged the cluttered shelves in the study.
And you know what else? I'm going to keep doing it. I know it's drastic, but those 5 pounds are just the tip of the iceberg.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
The Advertising Writers Just Aren't Putting In The Effort They Used To.......
Commercials and advertising in general is a big business, right? And commercials cost a lot of money to film & air, right? My vast years of movie-watching have of course made me an expert on this.
So I am going to describe what is officially the Dumbest Ad Ever. And I think you will agree.
Firstly, it starts off with Brooke Shields. This should be all the evidence you need, but I'll continue. If you are using Shields as your spokeswoman, you have already lost your "edge."
Anyway, Brooke goes on to describe some stuff I didn't really listen to.
Then I hear this: "For the health of my mouth, my dentist recommends Colgate Total." And about 1.6 seconds after this we have a shot of the dentist who says "For the health of your mouth, I recommend Colgate Total."
Ooooooookay.
I am assuming this bit of dialogue was written by the janitor while the Ad Team was on a lunch break. Come on people, you have about 20-30 seconds to grab my attention and make me want to buy your product. Redundant much?
So I am going to describe what is officially the Dumbest Ad Ever. And I think you will agree.
Firstly, it starts off with Brooke Shields. This should be all the evidence you need, but I'll continue. If you are using Shields as your spokeswoman, you have already lost your "edge."
Anyway, Brooke goes on to describe some stuff I didn't really listen to.
Then I hear this: "For the health of my mouth, my dentist recommends Colgate Total." And about 1.6 seconds after this we have a shot of the dentist who says "For the health of your mouth, I recommend Colgate Total."
Ooooooookay.
I am assuming this bit of dialogue was written by the janitor while the Ad Team was on a lunch break. Come on people, you have about 20-30 seconds to grab my attention and make me want to buy your product. Redundant much?
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Top Ten Things the World Can Do Without
I have spent the last few weeks watching cable and....well, actually just watching cable. Not much else has gotten done. I have been inundated with the "Top" lists: Ten Best Bikini Bodies, Ten Fatal Women, Twenty Horrifying Hollywood Murders. (And who decides these anyway? I know I wasn't consulted. I think that #12 of that last list should be the death of the show FARSCAPE, but of course nobody asked me!) So I have made my own list.
10 THINGS THE WORLD CAN DO WITHOUT (the television edition):
10) Bilingual cartoons. Uno! Dos! Tres! How cute. Now teach the kids something they might really need to translate in life. Hey boys and girls: ¡Hice una bomba en forma de tubo hoy!
9) Kendra and other "celebrity" reality shows. (You're on TV because you're famous: you're famous because you're on TV. Do you see the vicious cycle?) But especially Kendra. That laugh make my brain itch.
8) Ads for Viagra and Viagra rip-offs. Does anyone else find these as creepy as I do? Trust me, if a guy wants/needs it, he'll Google it.
7) CD compilations and anthologies of music nobody listened to or bought the first time it was released.
6) Pitch men. These guys will get enthusiastic about hamster food if they're paid enough.
5) Celebrity reality shows. Oh wait, I mentioned that one already? I guess that's because the world can really really do without them.
4) Any show that has "Dumbest" or "Wildest" in the title. Even if it has D-List celebrity commentators. Especially if it has D-List celebrity commentators.
3) Kate. Jon + 8 can stay. For now.
2) Any television program that shows me how I can transform my moderate suburban home into a moderate suburban home with a $15,000 laundry room.
1) The combining of celebrity couple names. 'Nuff said.
10 THINGS THE WORLD CAN DO WITHOUT (the television edition):
10) Bilingual cartoons. Uno! Dos! Tres! How cute. Now teach the kids something they might really need to translate in life. Hey boys and girls: ¡Hice una bomba en forma de tubo hoy!
9) Kendra and other "celebrity" reality shows. (You're on TV because you're famous: you're famous because you're on TV. Do you see the vicious cycle?) But especially Kendra. That laugh make my brain itch.
8) Ads for Viagra and Viagra rip-offs. Does anyone else find these as creepy as I do? Trust me, if a guy wants/needs it, he'll Google it.
7) CD compilations and anthologies of music nobody listened to or bought the first time it was released.
6) Pitch men. These guys will get enthusiastic about hamster food if they're paid enough.
5) Celebrity reality shows. Oh wait, I mentioned that one already? I guess that's because the world can really really do without them.
4) Any show that has "Dumbest" or "Wildest" in the title. Even if it has D-List celebrity commentators. Especially if it has D-List celebrity commentators.
3) Kate. Jon + 8 can stay. For now.
2) Any television program that shows me how I can transform my moderate suburban home into a moderate suburban home with a $15,000 laundry room.
1) The combining of celebrity couple names. 'Nuff said.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Come to the Dark Side. We have.......cable?
Ah, cable. The wonder of dozens of channels just waiting for you to pick up that remote. I like to say that I have not had cable (not even basic, not even the one single news channel that almost everyone can pick up) since the day I moved out of my parents house almost exactly ten years ago. I did, however, enjoy a brief stint of about 6 months with satellite. That was made even more pleasurable since we lived next door to a guy who worked for DSS, and he rigged our satellite card to pick up EVERY SINGLE FRICKIN STATION. Like, 700 channels. We could watch pay-per-view sports and porn and new release movies all for free.
But I digress.
Our family got cable yesterday, about 16 hours ago to be exact. No one in this house has spoken to each other. OldestSon is ensconced in his room, not able to decide on one channel, but clicking through them at a speed fast enough to induce seizures in even the most staid person. MiddleSon is damn-near orgasmic by the fact we have not one but four channels that show almost nothing but baseball 24 hours a day. YoungestSon, our 3 and 1/2 year old, just likes to stand in front of whichever TV he can so that you can't see through him. And my DearHusband has developed ADD in the last 12 hours: "Hey honey! Super Plasma Beast is on channel 42. But Cold Forensic Investigators in on 61! And they're showing CSI: Cleveland on 12! Agh!!! How do I choose? Oh no! Look, it's The Ghost Catcher Paranormal Adventure Show on station 33!" (Cue blubbering tears)
There is one major change in cable since I was a wee girl. I did not know "fuck" was acceptable on some of the paid cable stations. And I don't mean HBO or Showtime. I'm too cheap to subscribe to those. But about 1/3 of the stations throw it around now like nothing. I watched a funny ass Aussie comedian last night who said it about 6 x a minute. But what the fuck was I watching an Aussie stand-up guy for? Huh. Because it was on, I suppose, and there wasn't very many commercial breaks.
Okay, commercials. Of course I knew I'd have to deal with them again and I have quite a few things to say on the subject. For the last few years, everyone has said, "Oh did you see the commercial with...." or "I really hate that ad that....." Sorry, no cable, don't know, don't really care.
I have read and heard a lot of things about the vile marketing targeted at our kids. I hated the companies that produced these ads when I heard that my kid could watch something like 10,000 ads a year for their sugar-and-fat-laden products. Can I tell you something in secret? Seriously, don't tell anyone. I did not see ONE SINGLE ad for junk food or candy in my hours of spaced-out-couch-potatoed-ness. I saw one single fast food as for Taco Bell. Ronald's ugly mug didn't show up once. I also saw only one commercial for breakfast cereal, and that was about an hour ago as my kids had Spongebob on. But they are watching what now passes for Saturday morning cartoons, so if I don't hear "I'm lovin' it" I'll be shocked I tell ya.
I did see dozens of ads for pills. Pills of every make and model. Pills to make you fat or thin. Pills to make you happy or calm you down. Pills for every disease real or imagined. And, of course, "natural male enhancement." Sorry, not touching that with a 20 foot pole. (That's what she said....*snicker*)
Late late late last night every other ad I saw was for mattresses, especially Craftmatic adjustable beds and Tempurpedic. Especially that Tempur one. Let me say one thing about that commercial. It starts out with a man & woman kind of hugging on a bed. The camera pans back and you see the bed, complete bed not just a mattress, is sitting on the edge of a pool in the middle of a huge field. What the holy blue fuck is that about?
Then I thought all these companies were morons. (Well, I think that a lot, but it was really prominent about 2 am last night) Who the hell decides to buy a mattress, a quite expensive one, at 3 am? I mean, do they think all these lazy fatasses are just lying in be.........ah. Nevermind.
And while I was flipping between Forensic Files and Mythbusters, I discovered a gem. A very annoying gem, but one nonetheless. John and Kate plus 8. Huh. I watched about 13 episodes of this last night. Wow. Since it was a marathon type thing, I saw the kids as babies, as 3 year olds, I watched as that nagging bitch had her stomach fixed. But none of it was in order, chronologically, so I'm still a bit confused. Judging by the previews for the next show, I'm guessing they split up or something. But I'm still going to tune in Monday @ 9 to catch the premier of the summer season. I hate myself.
But I digress.
Our family got cable yesterday, about 16 hours ago to be exact. No one in this house has spoken to each other. OldestSon is ensconced in his room, not able to decide on one channel, but clicking through them at a speed fast enough to induce seizures in even the most staid person. MiddleSon is damn-near orgasmic by the fact we have not one but four channels that show almost nothing but baseball 24 hours a day. YoungestSon, our 3 and 1/2 year old, just likes to stand in front of whichever TV he can so that you can't see through him. And my DearHusband has developed ADD in the last 12 hours: "Hey honey! Super Plasma Beast is on channel 42. But Cold Forensic Investigators in on 61! And they're showing CSI: Cleveland on 12! Agh!!! How do I choose? Oh no! Look, it's The Ghost Catcher Paranormal Adventure Show on station 33!" (Cue blubbering tears)
There is one major change in cable since I was a wee girl. I did not know "fuck" was acceptable on some of the paid cable stations. And I don't mean HBO or Showtime. I'm too cheap to subscribe to those. But about 1/3 of the stations throw it around now like nothing. I watched a funny ass Aussie comedian last night who said it about 6 x a minute. But what the fuck was I watching an Aussie stand-up guy for? Huh. Because it was on, I suppose, and there wasn't very many commercial breaks.
Okay, commercials. Of course I knew I'd have to deal with them again and I have quite a few things to say on the subject. For the last few years, everyone has said, "Oh did you see the commercial with...." or "I really hate that ad that....." Sorry, no cable, don't know, don't really care.
I have read and heard a lot of things about the vile marketing targeted at our kids. I hated the companies that produced these ads when I heard that my kid could watch something like 10,000 ads a year for their sugar-and-fat-laden products. Can I tell you something in secret? Seriously, don't tell anyone. I did not see ONE SINGLE ad for junk food or candy in my hours of spaced-out-couch-potatoed-ness. I saw one single fast food as for Taco Bell. Ronald's ugly mug didn't show up once. I also saw only one commercial for breakfast cereal, and that was about an hour ago as my kids had Spongebob on. But they are watching what now passes for Saturday morning cartoons, so if I don't hear "I'm lovin' it" I'll be shocked I tell ya.
I did see dozens of ads for pills. Pills of every make and model. Pills to make you fat or thin. Pills to make you happy or calm you down. Pills for every disease real or imagined. And, of course, "natural male enhancement." Sorry, not touching that with a 20 foot pole. (That's what she said....*snicker*)
Late late late last night every other ad I saw was for mattresses, especially Craftmatic adjustable beds and Tempurpedic. Especially that Tempur one. Let me say one thing about that commercial. It starts out with a man & woman kind of hugging on a bed. The camera pans back and you see the bed, complete bed not just a mattress, is sitting on the edge of a pool in the middle of a huge field. What the holy blue fuck is that about?
Then I thought all these companies were morons. (Well, I think that a lot, but it was really prominent about 2 am last night) Who the hell decides to buy a mattress, a quite expensive one, at 3 am? I mean, do they think all these lazy fatasses are just lying in be.........ah. Nevermind.
And while I was flipping between Forensic Files and Mythbusters, I discovered a gem. A very annoying gem, but one nonetheless. John and Kate plus 8. Huh. I watched about 13 episodes of this last night. Wow. Since it was a marathon type thing, I saw the kids as babies, as 3 year olds, I watched as that nagging bitch had her stomach fixed. But none of it was in order, chronologically, so I'm still a bit confused. Judging by the previews for the next show, I'm guessing they split up or something. But I'm still going to tune in Monday @ 9 to catch the premier of the summer season. I hate myself.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Wow. I really am quite stupid
You see, I darn near killed myself trying to retreive a mini Reese Cup Egg from it's hiding spot.
On my computer desk is a little cupboard. This is the kind with no handle or anything, but that you push a corner of to get it to pop open. This desk is really old, and I think we are the 5th or 6th owners as it gets passed from house to house. The cupboard doesn't always pop open when you press it, and I really should've known better than to hide a candy stash there since it sticks so much.
But, as I said, my Reese cup eggs (the white ones, mmmmm) are hidden in there. I finish a ton of housework and stuff this morning and decide to reward myself. But the cupboard sticks. I pound on it for 5 minutes and it still won't pop. **Brilliant idea coming** I grab a thin metal ruler to stick in there and try to pry it open. But apparently this pressboard desk is more powerful than a piece of steel. The ruler bends a little, comes loose, and then flings back and cracks me right in the nose, on that spot on the bridge that brings instant tears to your eyes. Pissed off and blind with tears, I lean against the desk. And my hand hits the cupboard door. And it pops open. Just for that - I'm eating TWO Reese eggs.
But thinking back, this is still not as stupid as the day I almost killed myself with paprika. I had made deviled eggs and the container of paprika was still open on the counter after I finsihed putting most everything away and cleaned up. I picked it up to put it away and a cloud of fine red dust rose from the container. I sneezed, banged my head forward on the bottom of the cupboard and fell flat on my ass on the floor - out cold. I came to just a few minutes later, hand banging, and the paprika still in my hand.
On my computer desk is a little cupboard. This is the kind with no handle or anything, but that you push a corner of to get it to pop open. This desk is really old, and I think we are the 5th or 6th owners as it gets passed from house to house. The cupboard doesn't always pop open when you press it, and I really should've known better than to hide a candy stash there since it sticks so much.
But, as I said, my Reese cup eggs (the white ones, mmmmm) are hidden in there. I finish a ton of housework and stuff this morning and decide to reward myself. But the cupboard sticks. I pound on it for 5 minutes and it still won't pop. **Brilliant idea coming** I grab a thin metal ruler to stick in there and try to pry it open. But apparently this pressboard desk is more powerful than a piece of steel. The ruler bends a little, comes loose, and then flings back and cracks me right in the nose, on that spot on the bridge that brings instant tears to your eyes. Pissed off and blind with tears, I lean against the desk. And my hand hits the cupboard door. And it pops open. Just for that - I'm eating TWO Reese eggs.
But thinking back, this is still not as stupid as the day I almost killed myself with paprika. I had made deviled eggs and the container of paprika was still open on the counter after I finsihed putting most everything away and cleaned up. I picked it up to put it away and a cloud of fine red dust rose from the container. I sneezed, banged my head forward on the bottom of the cupboard and fell flat on my ass on the floor - out cold. I came to just a few minutes later, hand banging, and the paprika still in my hand.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
A completely self-serving whiny-ass post
Just to get it off my chest. Of course, i take another hiatus from posting, and then I have to come on here and dump all this crap off.
Okay, so my DarlingHusband has his oldest son, henceforth known as SmartAss. staying with us. SmartAss is working with Darling, trying to save up money, get a place of his own, and move his girlfriend (Henceforth known as MeanBitch) up here. But before I get onto the whiny-ass part, you need some background.
Darling had a screwed up childhood, and a mostly screwed up adulthood to be honest. So he has (or thinks he has) a lot to atone for. So he has this odd way of showing it to the people he harbors guilt over. SmartAss stayed with us for a year when he was 14-15. When he first moved in, it was Darling, myself, MiddleSon (who was 2 at the time) and SmartAss. And Darling was all "Son! Son! Sorry i was such a shit! Let me shower you with attention and money and show you how great I really am!" Fast forward about 5 months. Darling and I get custody of his other son, (who was about 3 at the time, and is now always referred to as my Oldest Son, since I have raised him.) And the processed repeated itself: "Son! Son!" So on and so forth. Fast forward about a year. SmartAss moves back with his mother, several states away, at the end of the school year. Darling's Brother moves in with us after being released from a vacation with the federal penal system. You know what's coming: "Brother! Brother!" Well, Brother ended up with us for a year and a half, and it went so seriously sour I can't even get into it here. Anyway, we had a peaceful for years, and added Youngest Son to our family. So you see, when Smart Ass moved in with us at the beginning of October, it started all over again.
Now I'll try to explain about SmartAss. He is almost 20. And he acts like it. Darling and I have gotten as far as we have by having a cordial, polite relationship. I know many couples who argue over petty things and call each other names and stuff, but Darling and I do not do that. We are not rude or sarcastic to each other. We actually like each other. SmartAss comes into the picture and starts getting lippy. Just the usual wise cracking smart ass comments that are not appreciated by the person who cleans the house, does all the laundry, cleaning, cooking, etc for three adults and three young boys. And I do not need Oldest Son and Middle Son hearing that crap either. In this house at least, respecting your mother still means something.
SmartAss is a new dad. My little step-grandson is about three weeks old at the time of this posting. His mother is MeanBitch, and she lives several states away from us. Mean Bitch also has 2 toddlers from a previous relationship. Needless to say, I do not want MeanBitch living up here. I have enough drama of my own, thank you very much. MeanBitch and Smartass have nightly 2 hour long phone conversations where they do nothing but yell and insult each other. MeanBitch keeps our phone lines buzzing all hours of the night and day.
Anyway, I have about had it. SmartAss is an eating machine. Food that was planned to last for 5 or 6 meals is getting eaten in 2. He s lazy and does nothing to help around the house. Case in point: a few weeks ago, I was sick. Not just sick....but sick! I had a horrible flu and pink eye in both eyes. I was lying on the couch, trying to ignore everybody and everything. SmartAss and Darling come home from work and proceed to shower and eat dinner that I had ready for them. Neither SmartAss nor Darling have a lot of work clothes, so i had been doing a load of laundry nightly. earlier this day, I had done a load of the other kids' clothes, and they were still in the washer. SmartAss yells from the laundry room that he "can't put his stuff in because there is stuff already in it". So I drag my ass off the couch and switch loads. Now seriously, how hard would it have been for a healthy hardy young man to take wet clothes from the washer and place them in the dryer?! Apparently, it was just too damn hard. So is doing dishes, even ones he creates all for himself that were not part of a meal I cooked. And picking up after himself. Or making his bed. Or putting his clean folded laundry away after I finish with it. Or picking up a few groceries at the store to replace the ones he uses. The kid ate 4 packages of ramen noodles in one sitting at lunch, and then packed away 4 pork chops, rice and corn for dinner. (He skipped the beans - the one thing I make that he won't touch) Hot dogs and mac n cheese? I can no longer cook 10 hot dogs and one box of mac. I know have to make at least 16-18 hot dogs and no less than three boxes of mac. 4 bowls of cereal for breakfast, 4 grilled cheese sandwiches as a 'snack' after dinner. You get the idea.
And of course, SmartAss is making plenty of money working for Darling. He sends a good chunk of it down to MeanBitch. The rest he spends on fast food (which Darling and i do not buy on principal), bowling, junk food, etc.
And if MeanBitch does move up here - we have another problem. This woman (though i hesitate to call her that) has no idea how to live on her own. She never has. She has no way to set up a home for herself and her children. (She is 21, by the way) I asked SmartAss what kind of furniture and stuff they had that would need to be moved up here. Nothing. A few old mattresses for the kids, and some toys. Oh wait! Not quite 'nothing' he adds. The kids each have one of those $400 Power Wheels ride-on toys, and they have two computers and a big screen TV. But no couches or tables or chairs or dishes or pots and pans or curtains or a microwave or any appliances or towels or anything else you need. Sorry, you do not "need" a big screen TV. You do "need" a refrigerator. Darling and I do not have the money to help them get set up. (Well, we sort of do, but with Christmas and two kids birthdays coming up, not to mention bills) We have been trying to clean out and declutter ourselves, and have sold or given away almost all of our extra household crap. Also, I do not particularly want to help SmartAss and MeanBitch.
And with SmartAss and MeanBitch, I also would get the drama of CrazyDrunk, who is SmartAss's biological mom, who lives in his home state. All these years, I have been so thankful that CrazyDrunk lives so far away. But now her "only grandbaby" would be moving up here. And with them would be ThugChick, SmartAss's juvenile delinquent and high-school dropout little sister who enjoys spending her days sleeping around and beating up her current boyfriend's mom. No, I am not making this up.
I have had enough........
Okay, so my DarlingHusband has his oldest son, henceforth known as SmartAss. staying with us. SmartAss is working with Darling, trying to save up money, get a place of his own, and move his girlfriend (Henceforth known as MeanBitch) up here. But before I get onto the whiny-ass part, you need some background.
Darling had a screwed up childhood, and a mostly screwed up adulthood to be honest. So he has (or thinks he has) a lot to atone for. So he has this odd way of showing it to the people he harbors guilt over. SmartAss stayed with us for a year when he was 14-15. When he first moved in, it was Darling, myself, MiddleSon (who was 2 at the time) and SmartAss. And Darling was all "Son! Son! Sorry i was such a shit! Let me shower you with attention and money and show you how great I really am!" Fast forward about 5 months. Darling and I get custody of his other son, (who was about 3 at the time, and is now always referred to as my Oldest Son, since I have raised him.) And the processed repeated itself: "Son! Son!" So on and so forth. Fast forward about a year. SmartAss moves back with his mother, several states away, at the end of the school year. Darling's Brother moves in with us after being released from a vacation with the federal penal system. You know what's coming: "Brother! Brother!" Well, Brother ended up with us for a year and a half, and it went so seriously sour I can't even get into it here. Anyway, we had a peaceful for years, and added Youngest Son to our family. So you see, when Smart Ass moved in with us at the beginning of October, it started all over again.
Now I'll try to explain about SmartAss. He is almost 20. And he acts like it. Darling and I have gotten as far as we have by having a cordial, polite relationship. I know many couples who argue over petty things and call each other names and stuff, but Darling and I do not do that. We are not rude or sarcastic to each other. We actually like each other. SmartAss comes into the picture and starts getting lippy. Just the usual wise cracking smart ass comments that are not appreciated by the person who cleans the house, does all the laundry, cleaning, cooking, etc for three adults and three young boys. And I do not need Oldest Son and Middle Son hearing that crap either. In this house at least, respecting your mother still means something.
SmartAss is a new dad. My little step-grandson is about three weeks old at the time of this posting. His mother is MeanBitch, and she lives several states away from us. Mean Bitch also has 2 toddlers from a previous relationship. Needless to say, I do not want MeanBitch living up here. I have enough drama of my own, thank you very much. MeanBitch and Smartass have nightly 2 hour long phone conversations where they do nothing but yell and insult each other. MeanBitch keeps our phone lines buzzing all hours of the night and day.
Anyway, I have about had it. SmartAss is an eating machine. Food that was planned to last for 5 or 6 meals is getting eaten in 2. He s lazy and does nothing to help around the house. Case in point: a few weeks ago, I was sick. Not just sick....but sick! I had a horrible flu and pink eye in both eyes. I was lying on the couch, trying to ignore everybody and everything. SmartAss and Darling come home from work and proceed to shower and eat dinner that I had ready for them. Neither SmartAss nor Darling have a lot of work clothes, so i had been doing a load of laundry nightly. earlier this day, I had done a load of the other kids' clothes, and they were still in the washer. SmartAss yells from the laundry room that he "can't put his stuff in because there is stuff already in it". So I drag my ass off the couch and switch loads. Now seriously, how hard would it have been for a healthy hardy young man to take wet clothes from the washer and place them in the dryer?! Apparently, it was just too damn hard. So is doing dishes, even ones he creates all for himself that were not part of a meal I cooked. And picking up after himself. Or making his bed. Or putting his clean folded laundry away after I finish with it. Or picking up a few groceries at the store to replace the ones he uses. The kid ate 4 packages of ramen noodles in one sitting at lunch, and then packed away 4 pork chops, rice and corn for dinner. (He skipped the beans - the one thing I make that he won't touch) Hot dogs and mac n cheese? I can no longer cook 10 hot dogs and one box of mac. I know have to make at least 16-18 hot dogs and no less than three boxes of mac. 4 bowls of cereal for breakfast, 4 grilled cheese sandwiches as a 'snack' after dinner. You get the idea.
And of course, SmartAss is making plenty of money working for Darling. He sends a good chunk of it down to MeanBitch. The rest he spends on fast food (which Darling and i do not buy on principal), bowling, junk food, etc.
And if MeanBitch does move up here - we have another problem. This woman (though i hesitate to call her that) has no idea how to live on her own. She never has. She has no way to set up a home for herself and her children. (She is 21, by the way) I asked SmartAss what kind of furniture and stuff they had that would need to be moved up here. Nothing. A few old mattresses for the kids, and some toys. Oh wait! Not quite 'nothing' he adds. The kids each have one of those $400 Power Wheels ride-on toys, and they have two computers and a big screen TV. But no couches or tables or chairs or dishes or pots and pans or curtains or a microwave or any appliances or towels or anything else you need. Sorry, you do not "need" a big screen TV. You do "need" a refrigerator. Darling and I do not have the money to help them get set up. (Well, we sort of do, but with Christmas and two kids birthdays coming up, not to mention bills) We have been trying to clean out and declutter ourselves, and have sold or given away almost all of our extra household crap. Also, I do not particularly want to help SmartAss and MeanBitch.
And with SmartAss and MeanBitch, I also would get the drama of CrazyDrunk, who is SmartAss's biological mom, who lives in his home state. All these years, I have been so thankful that CrazyDrunk lives so far away. But now her "only grandbaby" would be moving up here. And with them would be ThugChick, SmartAss's juvenile delinquent and high-school dropout little sister who enjoys spending her days sleeping around and beating up her current boyfriend's mom. No, I am not making this up.
I have had enough........
Friday, September 05, 2008
Teaching my son everything he needs to know....on the way to football practice
I am blessed with three sons. My oldest is an inquisitive sort, which I -usually- greatly encourage. I have honed his manners enough that his questions are no longer of the "Why is that man bald?" and "how come that lady is so fat?" variety. I have told him that any time he asks me an intelligent question, I will answer to the best of my ability. I have become quite good, if I do say so myself, at explaining difficult things at eight-year-old level.
Now, five days a week, OldestSon and I make the 1/4 mile 10 minute drive to football practice. Some days we take the scenic drive by the river, othre times it's through the center of town, hitting every red light along the way. And of course, my town thought it good planning to stick a red light every 20 feet through our busy 'downtown' section. (Downtown consists of 4 blocks and about a dozen businesses.)
We pass a small family-owned pizza chain that shut down recently. Dear OldestSon asks why it closed. Cue a brief but informative talk about Huge Corporations versus Small Family-Owned Business. Somehow, in that short drive, I got through to him. My son now hates WalMart. :-p
On the way home, I was telling him to take a quick shower once we got home, because MiddleSon would need one too, and we still had spelling words to do before bedtime. Cue an 8 minute explanation of water heaters. (In kidspeak, a hot water heater is like keeping a pot of boiling water on the stove. If you use it all, you can fill it back up, but it needs time to heat up again).
Sitting at home last night after the kids were in bed, it dawned on me that since football started in late July, OldestSon and I have had some interesting, intelligent and certainly diversified conversations.
Abraham Lincoln, slavery, a brief history of the civil war (this came up because he wanted to know why Lincoln was important enough to get on a coin *and* a bill)
The war in Iraq, the WTC attacks (because, sadly, we lost some young men in our town over there, and he was curious about the new memorial)
Hybrid cars, electric cars, the (ridiculous) price of gas
Why riverfront property costs more, real estate costs in general (Why is anyone homeless? he asks, When there are all these houses?)
Sadly, my own education seems to be lacking, because there have been quite a few questions I actually had to go home and google so I could answer them. The most recent example was: what animal does pepperoni come from. Huh. Um.....pig? Maybe? (P.S. after reading exactly what pepperoni is, I am seriously considering plain cheese pizza from now on)
I feel good, somehow, knowing my son is learning things he wouldn't otherwise. I feel better knowing that it is me he chooses to ask. And I feel best when i hear him explaining it to someone else.
However, I am still dodging the question about where babies come from.
Now, five days a week, OldestSon and I make the 1/4 mile 10 minute drive to football practice. Some days we take the scenic drive by the river, othre times it's through the center of town, hitting every red light along the way. And of course, my town thought it good planning to stick a red light every 20 feet through our busy 'downtown' section. (Downtown consists of 4 blocks and about a dozen businesses.)
We pass a small family-owned pizza chain that shut down recently. Dear OldestSon asks why it closed. Cue a brief but informative talk about Huge Corporations versus Small Family-Owned Business. Somehow, in that short drive, I got through to him. My son now hates WalMart. :-p
On the way home, I was telling him to take a quick shower once we got home, because MiddleSon would need one too, and we still had spelling words to do before bedtime. Cue an 8 minute explanation of water heaters. (In kidspeak, a hot water heater is like keeping a pot of boiling water on the stove. If you use it all, you can fill it back up, but it needs time to heat up again).
Sitting at home last night after the kids were in bed, it dawned on me that since football started in late July, OldestSon and I have had some interesting, intelligent and certainly diversified conversations.
Abraham Lincoln, slavery, a brief history of the civil war (this came up because he wanted to know why Lincoln was important enough to get on a coin *and* a bill)
The war in Iraq, the WTC attacks (because, sadly, we lost some young men in our town over there, and he was curious about the new memorial)
Hybrid cars, electric cars, the (ridiculous) price of gas
Why riverfront property costs more, real estate costs in general (Why is anyone homeless? he asks, When there are all these houses?)
Sadly, my own education seems to be lacking, because there have been quite a few questions I actually had to go home and google so I could answer them. The most recent example was: what animal does pepperoni come from. Huh. Um.....pig? Maybe? (P.S. after reading exactly what pepperoni is, I am seriously considering plain cheese pizza from now on)
I feel good, somehow, knowing my son is learning things he wouldn't otherwise. I feel better knowing that it is me he chooses to ask. And I feel best when i hear him explaining it to someone else.
However, I am still dodging the question about where babies come from.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
The trials & tribulations of Saturday
Yesterday was a busy day for us. The town hosted a safety day for the kids in the morning (basic first aid, how to handle minor emergencies, etc) followed by a Fireman's Parade The parade was actually, I think, intended as a jab at the businesses along our small town's main street. You see, at the last Christmas parade, the shops all got together and requested that the ambulances & firetrucks NOT use their sirens when going down these 2 blocks. The way the buildings are set up, the sound just reverberates & echos and feels 10x as loud as normal. So they didn't get to use the sirens in the December parade. And then they planned a parade and invited about 60 ambulances & fire trucks from neighboring areas. And blasted their sirens All. Along. Main Street. Go them, that is exactly my idea of revenge. They did at least hand out ear plugs before it started for the spectators.
Then we had OldestNephew's bday party. Just your usual party for an 11 yo boy. Nephew's father, my wonderful (*snort*) Brother, is however, and amateur comedian. Or thinks he is. He was setting up one of the new presents so the kids could go outside and play with it. This toy happened to be a pitching machine for whiffle balls. He set it up, and turned it on. Inside the house. Without thinking that my 2.5 yo ToddlerSon was sitting directly in front of him. So ToddlerSon has a nice little welt on his cheek from that.
Later in the evening was supposed to be the swim party for the baseball league. I tell you this to show that my kids were a little amped up from the day (not to mention candy from the parade, cake & ice cream and more candy) but the time 6 pm rolled around.
As time for the swim party rolled around, the sky was getting really [b]really[/b] dark. Severe thunderstorms opened up at 5:45, and the party had to be postponed.
The power goes out at 6. Since it didn't flicker and didn't come back on within 10-15 minutes, we knew we'd be dark for awhile. I had planned on all of us eating BBQ at the party, but that fell through. So we ended up with a cheese & cracker dinner by candle light (which the kids thought was fantastic and we should do at least once a week). Followed by the ice cream that was melting in the freezer.
We played cards for a bit (you may remember from a previous post that my kids are becoming quite the little Blackjack players), and then switched over to hit our stockpile of board games: yahtzee, chutes & ladders, boggle, kids scrabble, go fish, etc. And then it got too dark to see.
We retreated into the living room where DH & I flopped on the couch, the kids on the floor, and we all laid around, staring at the ceiling and whining about being bored. DH & I started talking about nothing, and of course the subject got on to certain movies and actors and the like. I must have started to get up a dozen times to "Put that one in, I haven't seen it for ages." before realizing I was an idiot. Not to mention how many times I tried to turn the fan on.
Just to [s]shut everyone up[/s] keep the peace, I started the kids playing 20 questions. Which we ended up doing for over 2.5 hours and had a blast. Dh thought we were being stupid, and wouldn't join in at first. But 20 questions (or in my house, 2400 questions, 326 silly guesses, and 289 cries of "I give up! What is it?") is addictive to those around you. And to my DearestHusband (*Double snort*) saying "This is something that can be found in, around or on the ocean" and then the item in question is a dive watch......well, I want to keep this post PG so I won't say what I thought about that.
When the power did come back on (by then we were all punch-drunk tired and laughing like crazy) the kids actually were going "Oh, noooooo! Can we keep playing? Pleeeeeease??" So we went around, shut everything off, relit the candles and played for another hour. It turned out to be one of the most fun evenings we've had for awhile.
Then we had OldestNephew's bday party. Just your usual party for an 11 yo boy. Nephew's father, my wonderful (*snort*) Brother, is however, and amateur comedian. Or thinks he is. He was setting up one of the new presents so the kids could go outside and play with it. This toy happened to be a pitching machine for whiffle balls. He set it up, and turned it on. Inside the house. Without thinking that my 2.5 yo ToddlerSon was sitting directly in front of him. So ToddlerSon has a nice little welt on his cheek from that.
Later in the evening was supposed to be the swim party for the baseball league. I tell you this to show that my kids were a little amped up from the day (not to mention candy from the parade, cake & ice cream and more candy) but the time 6 pm rolled around.
As time for the swim party rolled around, the sky was getting really [b]really[/b] dark. Severe thunderstorms opened up at 5:45, and the party had to be postponed.
The power goes out at 6. Since it didn't flicker and didn't come back on within 10-15 minutes, we knew we'd be dark for awhile. I had planned on all of us eating BBQ at the party, but that fell through. So we ended up with a cheese & cracker dinner by candle light (which the kids thought was fantastic and we should do at least once a week). Followed by the ice cream that was melting in the freezer.
We played cards for a bit (you may remember from a previous post that my kids are becoming quite the little Blackjack players), and then switched over to hit our stockpile of board games: yahtzee, chutes & ladders, boggle, kids scrabble, go fish, etc. And then it got too dark to see.
We retreated into the living room where DH & I flopped on the couch, the kids on the floor, and we all laid around, staring at the ceiling and whining about being bored. DH & I started talking about nothing, and of course the subject got on to certain movies and actors and the like. I must have started to get up a dozen times to "Put that one in, I haven't seen it for ages." before realizing I was an idiot. Not to mention how many times I tried to turn the fan on.
Just to [s]shut everyone up[/s] keep the peace, I started the kids playing 20 questions. Which we ended up doing for over 2.5 hours and had a blast. Dh thought we were being stupid, and wouldn't join in at first. But 20 questions (or in my house, 2400 questions, 326 silly guesses, and 289 cries of "I give up! What is it?") is addictive to those around you. And to my DearestHusband (*Double snort*) saying "This is something that can be found in, around or on the ocean" and then the item in question is a dive watch......well, I want to keep this post PG so I won't say what I thought about that.
When the power did come back on (by then we were all punch-drunk tired and laughing like crazy) the kids actually were going "Oh, noooooo! Can we keep playing? Pleeeeeease??" So we went around, shut everything off, relit the candles and played for another hour. It turned out to be one of the most fun evenings we've had for awhile.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
My Cujo-esque Moment - Literally
We live next door to some really good people. To give you the set up, there is out house, Big Daddy's house and Little Man's house. Big & Little (father & son, obviously) have their yards fenced in together. Little & His wife are very nice folks. Their boy plays with our kids, we chat when we see each other, the usual neighborly crap.
Little has 2 huge Saint Bernards. One is very large, and not very friendly. The other is a bit smaller and okay. They try to keep them under lock and key becuase our 'hood has lots of young kids. In case you forgot, this is what a St Bernard looks like:
Anyway, there has never been a problem. As a side note, I should add that while my DH is scared of dogs, I have never been in my entire life. Now, we have recently acquired our own puppy. He is about 12 weeks old, and while he looks like a yellow lap pup, in reality he is just a mutt. Here is Loki:
I manage to calmy walk past the St B, shaking and looking a lot like this:
The St B is on my ass. He wants a chunk of it apparently. I, naturally, have grown accustomed to having my ass intact. My only thought is that I was going to be mauled on my birthday. Like I said, I have never been frightened of an animal in my life. I know how to handle one that is pissed. I walk slow & calm (though inside I'm giving my best horror movie bimbo scream) and don't make any loud noise or sudden movement. Not only did I envision my mauling/demise, I tell you in my mind, I was attending my own funeral.
But I make it onto Big's porch. Barely. Thankfully, Big's wife answers my knock pretty quickly. When I tell her my problem, she gets ready to bolt back inside, leaving me stranded. Turns out she's scared of the St B's too. Again, thankfully, Big comes out to handle the situation. He yells at the barking snarling drooling dog, and funnily enough, the dog almost looks ashamed of itself. Big gets his slippers on, walks off the porch, and smacks this beast on its nose. I'm thinking Big is going to lose a chunk of his arm. And that this is as good a time as any to make my escape. So I, heroically, jump over Big's porch railing and sprint the yard to my own. I don't think I've moved that fast since I was 15. Husband and kids are at the window, watching everything. They want to laugh, but even they admit that my rail jump was pretty cool.
We tried to go back to our card game like nothing was wrong. DH did shut the big glass door, though. And Loki, my own ever vigilant watch dog, slept through the whole thing. I'm not going to tell him what happened, no sense making him feel bad about it now. But I don't think the St B has forgotten me. I think it's only the beginning.
Little has 2 huge Saint Bernards. One is very large, and not very friendly. The other is a bit smaller and okay. They try to keep them under lock and key becuase our 'hood has lots of young kids. In case you forgot, this is what a St Bernard looks like:
Anyway, there has never been a problem. As a side note, I should add that while my DH is scared of dogs, I have never been in my entire life. Now, we have recently acquired our own puppy. He is about 12 weeks old, and while he looks like a yellow lap pup, in reality he is just a mutt. Here is Loki:
Okay, so Thursday evening (my *grumble grumble* X age birthday) my DH and our 2 older sons (age 8 & 6) are in our kitchen playing BlackJack. We think it's important to teach them these vital life skills early. We have our big sliding glass door open with the only the screen in. Loki is tied up out back. I glance over between hands and see a gigantic face looking back in at me. It's the bigger of the 2 St B's. My first fear is Loki. This dog could eat him in one bite. My second is that there is only a flimsy screen between this horse and my children & I.
So while the monster, er beast, I mean dog is nosing around the yard, I slip out the front door to inform neighbors their ogre has gotten off it's leash. Trust me, this is something they'd want to know. They are responsible pet owners. The few times the giants have gotten out, you usually see Little & his wife in hot pursuit. Since I didn't see either of them this time, I knew they didn't know. As I go to Little's house, I see the St B coming around the front of mine. It sees me on what he views (rightly) as his porch, and he is coming fast. I am knocking on the door as fast as I can. (I didn't mean to knock that way, but by then my hand was shaking uncontrollably by then.) And of course, no answer. The St B is now blocking on my exit. He is barking & growling and does not look happy. I decide to try Big's house, since it is his son's dog, afterall.I manage to calmy walk past the St B, shaking and looking a lot like this:
The St B is on my ass. He wants a chunk of it apparently. I, naturally, have grown accustomed to having my ass intact. My only thought is that I was going to be mauled on my birthday. Like I said, I have never been frightened of an animal in my life. I know how to handle one that is pissed. I walk slow & calm (though inside I'm giving my best horror movie bimbo scream) and don't make any loud noise or sudden movement. Not only did I envision my mauling/demise, I tell you in my mind, I was attending my own funeral.
But I make it onto Big's porch. Barely. Thankfully, Big's wife answers my knock pretty quickly. When I tell her my problem, she gets ready to bolt back inside, leaving me stranded. Turns out she's scared of the St B's too. Again, thankfully, Big comes out to handle the situation. He yells at the barking snarling drooling dog, and funnily enough, the dog almost looks ashamed of itself. Big gets his slippers on, walks off the porch, and smacks this beast on its nose. I'm thinking Big is going to lose a chunk of his arm. And that this is as good a time as any to make my escape. So I, heroically, jump over Big's porch railing and sprint the yard to my own. I don't think I've moved that fast since I was 15. Husband and kids are at the window, watching everything. They want to laugh, but even they admit that my rail jump was pretty cool.
We tried to go back to our card game like nothing was wrong. DH did shut the big glass door, though. And Loki, my own ever vigilant watch dog, slept through the whole thing. I'm not going to tell him what happened, no sense making him feel bad about it now. But I don't think the St B has forgotten me. I think it's only the beginning.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Don't panic..... I'm here now.
Okay people listen up. Now that I have officially been put in charge, there are going to be some drastic changes around here. This has been a long time coming, but it will be all right now. First and foremost is the issue of my official title. We should have our priorities, after all. I prefer "The Fairest Queen Amanda" but only because "The All-Knowing Trash Heap" is already taken.
Don't worry, I'm keeping everything fairly simple. And there's no point arguing, I'm not listening.
Let's start with the basics: Income tax is gone. No more of that crap. From now on, everybody just keep what they make. If you make $7/hour, that is what you will take home. Daylight Savings Time is a thing of the past as well. But only because no one has ever given me a truly good explanation or reason for it. Next, there will no longer, *ever* be a change in postal rates. I'm tired of buying new stamps every six months.
Now for those important little details:
Businesses must now keep set hours for everyday they are open. Example: My bank is open from 8-4 Monday thru Wednesday, 8:30-5 on Thursday, 8-5 on Friday, and 9:30-3:30 on Saturday. That is just damn ridiculous and nobody can ever remember when they are allowed in. The bank is officially open from 8-5.
Clothing sizes will become standard among brands. Example: I bought 3 pairs of jeans from three manufacturers. They all fit me exactly the same. One pair is an 8, one is a 10, and one is a 12. Again, ridiculously complicated.
On that same note: printer ink cartridges and cell phone chargers are also now going to be industry-wide standard.
Only the driver of the car is allowed to see or speak. Just like seat belts, it will now be law that all passengers who enter a car be blindfolded and gagged. I have three kids, I don't think I need to give an example on this one.
All movies will now be given an intelligence rating as well as a violence/language one. So that really dumb movie can be rated PG-13/D- and you can save the $8 on a movie ticket. I'm talking to you people who made things like Lake Placid 2 and Judge Dread.
Children's names like Ztyphannie and Braetleighn are now forbidden.
Those who have the hardest (yet least recognized) positions in the world, like teachers and nurses, are my Deputy Queens and should be treated accordingly.
And finally:
Thou shalt not yell at a police officer for giving you a ticket that you *know* you deserve
Thou shalt not throw garbage in thy neighbor's yard
Thou shalt not talk about a great party in front of those who are not invited
Thou shalt not talk or use text messaging in a theatre or cinema
Thou shalt not dispense of any body fluids in public places
Thou shalt not honk a horn/blare a radio in a residential neighborhood before 7 am
Thou shalt not take up more than one parking space in a lot
As always, these subjects are subject to change at any time, for any reason, or even just because I have a headache.
Don't worry, I'm keeping everything fairly simple. And there's no point arguing, I'm not listening.
Let's start with the basics: Income tax is gone. No more of that crap. From now on, everybody just keep what they make. If you make $7/hour, that is what you will take home. Daylight Savings Time is a thing of the past as well. But only because no one has ever given me a truly good explanation or reason for it. Next, there will no longer, *ever* be a change in postal rates. I'm tired of buying new stamps every six months.
Now for those important little details:
Businesses must now keep set hours for everyday they are open. Example: My bank is open from 8-4 Monday thru Wednesday, 8:30-5 on Thursday, 8-5 on Friday, and 9:30-3:30 on Saturday. That is just damn ridiculous and nobody can ever remember when they are allowed in. The bank is officially open from 8-5.
Clothing sizes will become standard among brands. Example: I bought 3 pairs of jeans from three manufacturers. They all fit me exactly the same. One pair is an 8, one is a 10, and one is a 12. Again, ridiculously complicated.
On that same note: printer ink cartridges and cell phone chargers are also now going to be industry-wide standard.
Only the driver of the car is allowed to see or speak. Just like seat belts, it will now be law that all passengers who enter a car be blindfolded and gagged. I have three kids, I don't think I need to give an example on this one.
All movies will now be given an intelligence rating as well as a violence/language one. So that really dumb movie can be rated PG-13/D- and you can save the $8 on a movie ticket. I'm talking to you people who made things like Lake Placid 2 and Judge Dread.
Children's names like Ztyphannie and Braetleighn are now forbidden.
Those who have the hardest (yet least recognized) positions in the world, like teachers and nurses, are my Deputy Queens and should be treated accordingly.
And finally:
Thou shalt not yell at a police officer for giving you a ticket that you *know* you deserve
Thou shalt not throw garbage in thy neighbor's yard
Thou shalt not talk about a great party in front of those who are not invited
Thou shalt not talk or use text messaging in a theatre or cinema
Thou shalt not dispense of any body fluids in public places
Thou shalt not honk a horn/blare a radio in a residential neighborhood before 7 am
Thou shalt not take up more than one parking space in a lot
As always, these subjects are subject to change at any time, for any reason, or even just because I have a headache.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
I'm leavin' on a jet plane
Well, not really of course. I'd much rather take an old fashioned, cross-country train ride. Or a luxury cruise. But my friends in the little box on my desk have given me the assignment of picking a city somewhere that I would like to visit, and explain why. I have to admit that I have dug myself a comfortable little rut, and am quite happy in it. But I can tell you where I wouldn't like to visit. ((Warning: This will be filled with stereotypes complete and toall political incorrectness and some blatant rudeness. If this offends you, just walk away))
Let's stop at Australia first. No offense to Australians, I hear y'all are friendly & hospitable folks. I'm sure your country is lovely and gorgeous. However, I watch too much Discovery Channel. I could not swim at your beaches: you have 8 of the 10 deadliest sharks hanging out in those waters. Take a nice hike or even a leisurely stroll? Nope. The world's deadliest snakes and spiders live in your parts. Awwww, Amanda, but Australia has those cute little kangaroos. Wouldn't you love to see them? Again, a large and resounding NO. I've seen videos of those little buggers attacking.
Okay, let's try England. First off, it may be a horrible stereotype, but I have to say no thanks to England because of the food. Again, no offense, but y'all's stuff doesn't even have appetizing names. Blood pudding, tripe, spotted dick, fish that's been battered & fried to death and served with 'chips.' So let's skip England and try France. First of all, the French make me feel fat, even though I am not overweight. Again, the food is going to become an issue because you just don't serve enough. And I don't like wine, so I'd probably be ostracized anyway.
Italy....who can say no to Italy? I really don't have anything bad to say here. Parts of Italy are virtually teeming with wonderful History and beautiful landscapes & architecture. So Italy is a possibility.
China or Japan? I hate crowds. I hate loud noises. I hate fish. I don't think me and Southeast Asia would get along very well.
Canada I could get into. Beer and hockey. All I need is some good prize fights and I would die a happy girl. Canada is tying with Italy right now.
Egypt would be a wonderfully educational trip. I would love to walk the same lands as the Pharaohs did thousands of years ago. But I'm not big on heat. Or sand. I can spend 6 minutes on a beach and pick sand out of my ears and between my toes for a month. So I don't think Egypt would be a good choice.
Mexico?? Eh...well....see....I like to drink fresh water and I enjoy hot showers everyday. I don't like spicy food. Tequila and I parted ways many years ago.
Africa is next on our world tour. (What did you say? I'm jumping around too much for you? I don't care) I would love to see the Serengeti's and plains of Africa. I would love to take a safari tour to see those wonderful animals in their natural habitat. But see, I sort of have this base survival instinct of not wanting to get eaten. But if you go I would love to see pictures.
Ireland/Scotland/Northern Europe area. Once again, beautiful, educational & historic, peaceful, rolling greens and ancient castles. One of my greatest dreams was to take one of those walking tours of Ireland. But I would need to take an interpreter. Oh, they speak English? I'm sure they think so. Funnily enough, I love the sound of an Irish accent. Again, no offense, but I can't understand half of what y'all say.
So, is there any region I haven't offended mortally yet? I'm probably safer if I keep my feet on the soil of 3rd Street, if for no better reason than not getting mobbed by everyone I just insulted.
Let's stop at Australia first. No offense to Australians, I hear y'all are friendly & hospitable folks. I'm sure your country is lovely and gorgeous. However, I watch too much Discovery Channel. I could not swim at your beaches: you have 8 of the 10 deadliest sharks hanging out in those waters. Take a nice hike or even a leisurely stroll? Nope. The world's deadliest snakes and spiders live in your parts. Awwww, Amanda, but Australia has those cute little kangaroos. Wouldn't you love to see them? Again, a large and resounding NO. I've seen videos of those little buggers attacking.
Okay, let's try England. First off, it may be a horrible stereotype, but I have to say no thanks to England because of the food. Again, no offense, but y'all's stuff doesn't even have appetizing names. Blood pudding, tripe, spotted dick, fish that's been battered & fried to death and served with 'chips.' So let's skip England and try France. First of all, the French make me feel fat, even though I am not overweight. Again, the food is going to become an issue because you just don't serve enough. And I don't like wine, so I'd probably be ostracized anyway.
Italy....who can say no to Italy? I really don't have anything bad to say here. Parts of Italy are virtually teeming with wonderful History and beautiful landscapes & architecture. So Italy is a possibility.
China or Japan? I hate crowds. I hate loud noises. I hate fish. I don't think me and Southeast Asia would get along very well.
Canada I could get into. Beer and hockey. All I need is some good prize fights and I would die a happy girl. Canada is tying with Italy right now.
Egypt would be a wonderfully educational trip. I would love to walk the same lands as the Pharaohs did thousands of years ago. But I'm not big on heat. Or sand. I can spend 6 minutes on a beach and pick sand out of my ears and between my toes for a month. So I don't think Egypt would be a good choice.
Mexico?? Eh...well....see....I like to drink fresh water and I enjoy hot showers everyday. I don't like spicy food. Tequila and I parted ways many years ago.
Africa is next on our world tour. (What did you say? I'm jumping around too much for you? I don't care) I would love to see the Serengeti's and plains of Africa. I would love to take a safari tour to see those wonderful animals in their natural habitat. But see, I sort of have this base survival instinct of not wanting to get eaten. But if you go I would love to see pictures.
Ireland/Scotland/Northern Europe area. Once again, beautiful, educational & historic, peaceful, rolling greens and ancient castles. One of my greatest dreams was to take one of those walking tours of Ireland. But I would need to take an interpreter. Oh, they speak English? I'm sure they think so. Funnily enough, I love the sound of an Irish accent. Again, no offense, but I can't understand half of what y'all say.
So, is there any region I haven't offended mortally yet? I'm probably safer if I keep my feet on the soil of 3rd Street, if for no better reason than not getting mobbed by everyone I just insulted.
I can't believe I'm almost crying over this
When I woke up this morning, my 2 year old Toddler had almost shoulder-length silky strawberry blonde hair. He has a head full of cowlicks, and it always stuck up in every direction. Nothing I could do would make it lie flat. So I didn't and it was much cuter that way. He perpetually had "bed head" from 8 am until midnight.
A few days ago, my DearHusband brought home one of those hair cutting clipper sets with all the attachments. Because he can be vain, I decided to try it out on the kids first, who needed haircuts anyway.
Both OlderSon and MiddleSon like the 'fade' look so that it is cut almost to the skin at the nape of the neck, and gets a little longer and thicker at the crown and in front. And I managed it quite nicely. We got ToddlerSon up in the chair. Now, I have trimmed his bangs and around his ears many times, but I was worried. He was really good and sat still for me and everything. Just to make a matching set, I gave him a 'fade' cut as well. I was tearing up as those pretty soft locks fell to the floor.
He looks better....much more grown up and like a Little Boy instead of a Toddler. But I've been through this before, and I know it will never be the same. Once it has been cut drastically like that, it grows in darker and thicker, and never lays quite the same. I can't believe a haircut has me all shaky and emotional.
A few days ago, my DearHusband brought home one of those hair cutting clipper sets with all the attachments. Because he can be vain, I decided to try it out on the kids first, who needed haircuts anyway.
Both OlderSon and MiddleSon like the 'fade' look so that it is cut almost to the skin at the nape of the neck, and gets a little longer and thicker at the crown and in front. And I managed it quite nicely. We got ToddlerSon up in the chair. Now, I have trimmed his bangs and around his ears many times, but I was worried. He was really good and sat still for me and everything. Just to make a matching set, I gave him a 'fade' cut as well. I was tearing up as those pretty soft locks fell to the floor.
He looks better....much more grown up and like a Little Boy instead of a Toddler. But I've been through this before, and I know it will never be the same. Once it has been cut drastically like that, it grows in darker and thicker, and never lays quite the same. I can't believe a haircut has me all shaky and emotional.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Is she really gonna tell a story about a vaccum??
Yes. Yes I am.
Two weeks ago what I thought was a funny incident was really an episode of karma turning around to bite me in the butt.
My kids and I were cleaning the house. We were almost done and were just vacuuming the floor. Knock on the door. To make a long story short, it was a vacuum cleaner salesman. He could see and hear my vacuum ( a beloved shop vac) running in the next room, and he still tried to sell me another. I managed to get him to go away without the use of a can of mace or a pitchfork. I thought it was funny, even if the guy was clueless and rude.
Cue a week later and my shop vac dies. Ah, karma.
90% of my house is carpeted. I tried, vainly, to keep the mess to a minimum while I waiting to go get a new vacuum. My dark blue carpet in one room looked horrible with every speck showing up. Not to mention the 3 growing boys in my house not helping matters.
So I go last night to purchase a new shop vac. I'm in the vast warehouse known as Lowe's. My mother accompanied me, because trips like this, as boring as they may seem, always turn into an adventure when she is along.
Lowe's does not have my 10 gallon shop vac in size. However, I didn't realize my own shop vac was a 5 gal. Both she & I own the same kind, and we thought they were 10 gallons. So I decided to go with was the next size up: 14 gallons. First off, in that store, with its huge ceilings and 2 mile long aisles, nothing looks "too big." The box did seem oddly large & heavy.
I get home and make dinner. Now, it had been almost a week since I had last been able to vacuum and I was jonesing for a fix. The kids, who weirdly like to run the vacuum, begged to go first. Huh-uh, sweetie. This was my new toy and I was going to take the first test run.
OldestSon and I take the shop vac out of the box. This thing is a monstrosity. It is so tall that it comes up past my waist, and I am not a short person. The tank is so large that both my younger children could fit inside. My arm could easily fit into the hose.
I tentatively turn it on. The casing is a no-nonsense gray color, like this thing knew it was built to be productive and dammit, that's what it was going to do. So basically I approached it like a sleeping tiger. And it purred. Not really, but the engine/motor/whatever just sort of gently starting humming. Okay, so far so good. I put the hose to my carpet. And the carpet actually gets pulled off the floor from the force. I swear this thing has a jet engine. It is so powerful it could probably suck the hair off my head if I cared to try it. (And don't laugh. Someone must've tried it before - how do you think those old Flow-Bee things got invented?!?)
Anything that works this good can't be cheap to run. I figure I will get a $500 electric bill for the 15 minutes I ran it. But there are some pros in this mess. If the kids are acting up and romping in their room, I can probably just put the hose to the ceiling and the force of the vacuum will hold them to the floor. If my DearHusband is working int he basement and I need his attention: Schlowock! And he will be stuck with his head to the beams yelling "Turn it off for the love of Gawd!"
Other pros: No more worrying about dealing with those pesky wasp nests that pop up in the garage eaves: just shop vac it. No more stretching to get the curtains down to wash: just shop vac it. No more worrying about Toddler trying to run out the front door: just shop vac him.
I'm gonna go sweep something......
Two weeks ago what I thought was a funny incident was really an episode of karma turning around to bite me in the butt.
My kids and I were cleaning the house. We were almost done and were just vacuuming the floor. Knock on the door. To make a long story short, it was a vacuum cleaner salesman. He could see and hear my vacuum ( a beloved shop vac) running in the next room, and he still tried to sell me another. I managed to get him to go away without the use of a can of mace or a pitchfork. I thought it was funny, even if the guy was clueless and rude.
Cue a week later and my shop vac dies. Ah, karma.
90% of my house is carpeted. I tried, vainly, to keep the mess to a minimum while I waiting to go get a new vacuum. My dark blue carpet in one room looked horrible with every speck showing up. Not to mention the 3 growing boys in my house not helping matters.
So I go last night to purchase a new shop vac. I'm in the vast warehouse known as Lowe's. My mother accompanied me, because trips like this, as boring as they may seem, always turn into an adventure when she is along.
Lowe's does not have my 10 gallon shop vac in size. However, I didn't realize my own shop vac was a 5 gal. Both she & I own the same kind, and we thought they were 10 gallons. So I decided to go with was the next size up: 14 gallons. First off, in that store, with its huge ceilings and 2 mile long aisles, nothing looks "too big." The box did seem oddly large & heavy.
I get home and make dinner. Now, it had been almost a week since I had last been able to vacuum and I was jonesing for a fix. The kids, who weirdly like to run the vacuum, begged to go first. Huh-uh, sweetie. This was my new toy and I was going to take the first test run.
OldestSon and I take the shop vac out of the box. This thing is a monstrosity. It is so tall that it comes up past my waist, and I am not a short person. The tank is so large that both my younger children could fit inside. My arm could easily fit into the hose.
I tentatively turn it on. The casing is a no-nonsense gray color, like this thing knew it was built to be productive and dammit, that's what it was going to do. So basically I approached it like a sleeping tiger. And it purred. Not really, but the engine/motor/whatever just sort of gently starting humming. Okay, so far so good. I put the hose to my carpet. And the carpet actually gets pulled off the floor from the force. I swear this thing has a jet engine. It is so powerful it could probably suck the hair off my head if I cared to try it. (And don't laugh. Someone must've tried it before - how do you think those old Flow-Bee things got invented?!?)
Anything that works this good can't be cheap to run. I figure I will get a $500 electric bill for the 15 minutes I ran it. But there are some pros in this mess. If the kids are acting up and romping in their room, I can probably just put the hose to the ceiling and the force of the vacuum will hold them to the floor. If my DearHusband is working int he basement and I need his attention: Schlowock! And he will be stuck with his head to the beams yelling "Turn it off for the love of Gawd!"
Other pros: No more worrying about dealing with those pesky wasp nests that pop up in the garage eaves: just shop vac it. No more stretching to get the curtains down to wash: just shop vac it. No more worrying about Toddler trying to run out the front door: just shop vac him.
I'm gonna go sweep something......
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
A Baseball Story.....sort of
To tell you this story, I have to begin with some visual aids. No pics, though, because I keep forgetting to take my camera along to the park.
Okay, in my teeny tiny town, we have a very nice "park" type of area. I hesitate to call it a park because it doesn't really have a name, and it's sort of laid out funny.
It sits on a nice, long rolling hill. Here goes my attempt at the visual:
_________ Up here is parking area
_______This level is a nice shelter house/picnic area and courts for
tennis & basketball
__________ This level is open and grassy. There is a nice size playground and
a few benches.
___________This level is the Little League field, bleachers
concession stand and bathrooms
After the field, the hill flattens out and the public pool sits below that. Though technically that is a separate area and cannot be reached from the park. Alleys run uphill along both sides of the park. It is only fenced in with an ancient split-rail fence. There are gates to enter at the top near the parking lot and at the bottom near the field.
I, and many many others, have practically grown up in this place. Besides those of us that were dragged here to watch older brothers play baseball, there are also a lot of parties and activities planned for the space. The town Easter egg hunt, various church picnics, you get the idea.
Each level is mostly flat, and the hills that go down to the next are between 40-60 feet long. So if you are standing at the parking area yelling, no on in the play ground area can here you. Now, to watch my sons play ball, my family and I sit on the benches near the playground. Up there, we can sit & talk & complain about the coaches, spit out sunflower seed shells into the grass and other stuff.
Baseball season has started again. Most of the year, I am usually so proud of my little town and the people in it. And then baseball season starts and that all goes out the window. I see people doing the most unbelievable things. A mother changing a diaper on the bleachers. She laid down a blanket and changed a poopy diaper. Now, why couldn't she have moved away from the other people and laid that blanket on the grass? I have changed my child like that too many times to count, as have many others.
People making out with their Significant Others, people yelling & cursing at each other. The worst, by far, are those who let their dogs run, unleashed, around the park areas. And of course, about 95% of these people feel their dog can use this area as a large & convenient public toilet without having to pick up afterwards. Now, while there is a long walkway that runs from the parking level that goes all the way to the field, that is mostly only used by the adults. The older kids run barreling down the hill at top speed. Many of the younger kids like to roll down the hill. One older 'gentleman' (using the term loosely) does not have any relation to him playing ball. But he likes to walk his (leashed) dog in the park and stop to watch the kids play. I wouldn't have a problem with that. However, before he leaves, he walks his mutt up to the playground level to go to the bathroom! He lets the dog do its business, and then he heads back down the walkway, toward the field and out the lower gate. So it's not like it was on his way or anything.
I keep telling myself to just make it through one more season, just one more. But of course, this year both of my older sons are in the Minor League. Next year, OldestSon moves up to the Majors, MiddleSon stays in the minors. The year after that, Both of them will be in the Majors and I will have to start all over again with Toddler in tee ball.
Okay, in my teeny tiny town, we have a very nice "park" type of area. I hesitate to call it a park because it doesn't really have a name, and it's sort of laid out funny.
It sits on a nice, long rolling hill. Here goes my attempt at the visual:
_________ Up here is parking area
_______This level is a nice shelter house/picnic area and courts for
tennis & basketball
__________ This level is open and grassy. There is a nice size playground and
a few benches.
___________This level is the Little League field, bleachers
concession stand and bathrooms
After the field, the hill flattens out and the public pool sits below that. Though technically that is a separate area and cannot be reached from the park. Alleys run uphill along both sides of the park. It is only fenced in with an ancient split-rail fence. There are gates to enter at the top near the parking lot and at the bottom near the field.
I, and many many others, have practically grown up in this place. Besides those of us that were dragged here to watch older brothers play baseball, there are also a lot of parties and activities planned for the space. The town Easter egg hunt, various church picnics, you get the idea.
Each level is mostly flat, and the hills that go down to the next are between 40-60 feet long. So if you are standing at the parking area yelling, no on in the play ground area can here you. Now, to watch my sons play ball, my family and I sit on the benches near the playground. Up there, we can sit & talk & complain about the coaches, spit out sunflower seed shells into the grass and other stuff.
Baseball season has started again. Most of the year, I am usually so proud of my little town and the people in it. And then baseball season starts and that all goes out the window. I see people doing the most unbelievable things. A mother changing a diaper on the bleachers. She laid down a blanket and changed a poopy diaper. Now, why couldn't she have moved away from the other people and laid that blanket on the grass? I have changed my child like that too many times to count, as have many others.
People making out with their Significant Others, people yelling & cursing at each other. The worst, by far, are those who let their dogs run, unleashed, around the park areas. And of course, about 95% of these people feel their dog can use this area as a large & convenient public toilet without having to pick up afterwards. Now, while there is a long walkway that runs from the parking level that goes all the way to the field, that is mostly only used by the adults. The older kids run barreling down the hill at top speed. Many of the younger kids like to roll down the hill. One older 'gentleman' (using the term loosely) does not have any relation to him playing ball. But he likes to walk his (leashed) dog in the park and stop to watch the kids play. I wouldn't have a problem with that. However, before he leaves, he walks his mutt up to the playground level to go to the bathroom! He lets the dog do its business, and then he heads back down the walkway, toward the field and out the lower gate. So it's not like it was on his way or anything.
I keep telling myself to just make it through one more season, just one more. But of course, this year both of my older sons are in the Minor League. Next year, OldestSon moves up to the Majors, MiddleSon stays in the minors. The year after that, Both of them will be in the Majors and I will have to start all over again with Toddler in tee ball.
Monday, March 31, 2008
The only thing I fear
........is fear itself. Well, that might not be entirely accurate. But it's close. I am not scared of the dark, or spiders & snakes & creepy crawlies. I am not afraid of speaking in public or heights. I am not afraid of ghosts or aliens or axe murderers. Scary movies, roller coasters and such don't faze me a bit. (Once again, this is for my friends who live in my computer!) My one true fear is completely idiotic and irrational.
I am absolutely terrified of embarrassing myself. Not that I mind 'making a scene' it's more like 'making a spectacle.' The worst thing I can imagine is humiliating myself in front of people, whether they be friends or strangers. I just know that I am going to burp or fart or throw up on my shoes or something. It doesn't even have to be someone with power or authority or someone who intimidates me. It can be my neighbor or the clerk at the dollar store. The idea that I am going to do something stupid or embarrassing or worse haunts me.
After having a conversation with someone where things didn't go quite right (for whatever reason - possibly real, possible in my own overactive imagination), I will replay that for days. Analyzing everything I did or said and physically get the shakes thinking about it. I know it is completely irrational, and even a little egotistical. I mean, come on Amanda. Not everyone cares so much about you that they are going to remember you said/did that. But the fear plagues me anyway.
The fear of embarrassing myself is constant, but it only effects my life in small ways. I can not use a public toilet for 'longer' visits. What if I stink it up or make nasty noises or something and someone walks in and it smells really bad and they know it was me?
I cannot leave the house if I am feeling even slightly upset to my stomach. What if I need to find a restroom suddenly and can't? What if I can find one...and that just leads me back to me first point of probably not being able to use it anyway. What if I throw up on my shoes?
I cannot eat a large meal, especially at a restaurant, and then go on with my day. What if I get gas? What if my breath is raunchy? What if I suddenly get food poisoning and throw up on my shoes? (Can you see that throwing-up-on-my-shoes thing is the biggest?) Basically I won't go anywhere on a full stomach. If I have something to do at 6 pm that requires me to be out of the house for a few hours, I will not eat after about 10 am. Just in case.
I have a lot of trouble walking alone across open spaces in front of lots of people. What if I trip and fall? Who cares if I fall, what if I just stumble? What if my pants are sliding down and my butt is showing and I don't notice? What if I just look plain stupid? Will they laugh? You wonder why I wasn't Homecoming Queen? I would have had to take that walk across the football field with thousands of people watching me. (Who cares that I wasn't nominated to be HQ, because even if I had I couldn't have done it)
It's not that I can't eat in a restaurant or use a bathroom or walk. I just don't want to embarrass myself. And that's what it all comes down to. It doesn't matter. I just know I will do something humiliating and people will remember and talk about it and I won't be able to forget it and it will stay with me forever and keep me up at nights and then I get even more embarrassed. I told you it was irrational.
I am absolutely terrified of embarrassing myself. Not that I mind 'making a scene' it's more like 'making a spectacle.' The worst thing I can imagine is humiliating myself in front of people, whether they be friends or strangers. I just know that I am going to burp or fart or throw up on my shoes or something. It doesn't even have to be someone with power or authority or someone who intimidates me. It can be my neighbor or the clerk at the dollar store. The idea that I am going to do something stupid or embarrassing or worse haunts me.
After having a conversation with someone where things didn't go quite right (for whatever reason - possibly real, possible in my own overactive imagination), I will replay that for days. Analyzing everything I did or said and physically get the shakes thinking about it. I know it is completely irrational, and even a little egotistical. I mean, come on Amanda. Not everyone cares so much about you that they are going to remember you said/did that. But the fear plagues me anyway.
The fear of embarrassing myself is constant, but it only effects my life in small ways. I can not use a public toilet for 'longer' visits. What if I stink it up or make nasty noises or something and someone walks in and it smells really bad and they know it was me?
I cannot leave the house if I am feeling even slightly upset to my stomach. What if I need to find a restroom suddenly and can't? What if I can find one...and that just leads me back to me first point of probably not being able to use it anyway. What if I throw up on my shoes?
I cannot eat a large meal, especially at a restaurant, and then go on with my day. What if I get gas? What if my breath is raunchy? What if I suddenly get food poisoning and throw up on my shoes? (Can you see that throwing-up-on-my-shoes thing is the biggest?) Basically I won't go anywhere on a full stomach. If I have something to do at 6 pm that requires me to be out of the house for a few hours, I will not eat after about 10 am. Just in case.
I have a lot of trouble walking alone across open spaces in front of lots of people. What if I trip and fall? Who cares if I fall, what if I just stumble? What if my pants are sliding down and my butt is showing and I don't notice? What if I just look plain stupid? Will they laugh? You wonder why I wasn't Homecoming Queen? I would have had to take that walk across the football field with thousands of people watching me. (Who cares that I wasn't nominated to be HQ, because even if I had I couldn't have done it)
It's not that I can't eat in a restaurant or use a bathroom or walk. I just don't want to embarrass myself. And that's what it all comes down to. It doesn't matter. I just know I will do something humiliating and people will remember and talk about it and I won't be able to forget it and it will stay with me forever and keep me up at nights and then I get even more embarrassed. I told you it was irrational.
Lady in waiting...
....and waiting and waiting and waiting.
I had a few errands to run this afternoon. About 4 stops that should have taken 5 minutes each. Uh-huh. I decided to take MiddleSon along with me. I try to take just 1 kid with me on trips like this. A little quality time mixed in with some real life experience. Afterall, they'll have to go to the bank and the post office and the dry cleaners and the gas station on their own one day.
So the drive-thru bank window. Only two lanes, quite a few cars ahead of me. We wait ten minutes. I had to turn off the engine after two, or risk running out of gas (I knew I should've gone to the station first). I would've backed out, but there was already 2 cars behind me. Finally, there is one car left ahead of me. And they apparently have about 8 transactions to complete. Totally ignoring the big red sign that said "For more than three transactions, transactions with rolled coin, or business deposits, please use the inside lobby" This guy had all of this. Trust me, the weather was mild, my window was rolled down, and I could hear him complaining to the teller through the speaker that he had places to go already, what was the hold up?! When I finally got to the window my own business took about 2 minutes.
Next is the post office. I had 10 packages to drop off. These were all ready, and had the postage printed on them. All I had to do was set them on the counter and go. However, I like to make sure the clerks actually get them, so I always wait to hand them over. There is a long line. I have never been more proud of MiddleSon as we stood patiently. The first man in line was mailing in his taxes. He wanted to send them Priority, No Express Mail. Wait, he should probably insure that. Hang on, how much does registered mail cost? Do other people pay for registered mail? What sort of things do people mail that need to be insured and have a signature confirmation?
The next gentlemen in line had a stack of 4 or 5 smaller envelopes. While waiting on Mr. Tax Guy, he kept getting out of line to check out the postal mailing supplies. He'd pick something out. Put it back. Pick something different out. Put it back and grab the first thing again. Okay, I get that he couldn't make up his mind. However, when it was his turn at the counter, he had none of his envelopes addressed, and was still folding things to put in the envelopes. Dude, you just waited in line for ten minutes, you couldn't have taken care of that? He bought his stamps and mailing supplies and decided to stand right there by the clerk to fill out everything. I distinctly heard the sweet grandfatherly-looking gentleman behind me mutter "Come on, asshole" After a minute, the clerk saw this and asked him to step aside. He moved over a quarter of an inch. The next man was right in front of me. Thankfully, he was only buying a few stamps. Uh...not those ones. Do you have anything different? Ugh, is that all? Okay I'll take those first ones you showed me. I need 5. No, 6. (Clerk rips stamps out of a standard book) Actually, I better just buy a book. (Cashier hands over the book she had been tearing his stamps out of) Can I get a whole one? Thankfully, the cashier gives him the icy-glare-of-death and the man buys his not-quite-whole book of stamps. My turn! Clerks know me very well. They know that my postage is bought online and my packages are always ready to go. All they have to do is toss them in the outgoing bins. She looks, oddly, relieved to see me.
Okay, luckily the gas station is self-serve, I'm thinking at this point. No waiting on cashiers or other customers. There are 4 cars waiting. The other pump is out of order. Despite the line (or maybe because of it) things move quickly. Until the car ahead of me (of course. What else would you be thinking by now?) He has six 5-gallon containers in the bed of his truck to fill up. I decided that if I try really really hard, I can convince my car to run on fumes for a few more miles. The power of suggestion is a strong one indeed. I leave the gas station with MiddleSon asking nervously from the back seat, "Will we run out of gas again mom? Will dad have to come get us? Will we have to walk?!?!" He has been extraordinarily patient up to this point.
Normally, when Toddler-free, I like to take my time in the grocery store. Check out the sales and browse for a good deal. But because I am the mother of 3 children, I have learned to speed shop. I know where everything in the small store is and can buy a weeks' worth of groceries in 15 minutes. Luckily, I have no complaints about the store today. Until (you knew this was coming) I got into the parking lot. Very Nice Lady (VNL) was unloading her cart into her car at the same time I was. VNL was parked next to me. VNL remarked that the weather sure was unpredictable lately, but gee it was nice today. She hoped it would hold out. But no, it looked like it was going to rain. By now, my cart is unloaded, MiddleSon has returned it to the corral, and I have shut the trunk. I am fidgeting with the keys in my hand. I have the drivers door open and one leg in the car. VNL remarks how quiet and and well behaved MS is. I thank her, and say I better get home to fix some lunch. VNL says oh yes, she knows how growing boys are, eating all the time! Eat you out of house and home! She really is very nice, but I have already been gone an hour and have more to do. So I take my, "Oops my cell phone is ringing" escape route and duck into the car.
Back to the gas station......no cars! Yippee! I fill up my tank, which leaves me about $4.22 left in my checking account.
Drycleaners for some dress clothes I will be selling. I have my ticket. I have my money. But I have no patience left. And of course, the drycleaners is closed for lunch. I absolutely have to get these clothes today so that I can get them sold. I make a plan. Not the smartest or best thought out, but it is a plan nonetheless. I decide to try and drop Son and groceries off at home and then swing back to the cleaners. All the while trying to avoid letting Toddler see that mommy's car is in the driveway. When I get home, Toddler finally notices that I have been gone. Without him! (I'd snuck out so he wouldn't see me go, I am a bad mom). Oh the horror! The terrible horrible unadulterated PG13 horror! Toddler throws a fit. I give up. The drycleaning can wait until another day.
So I am home. I am tired. And I realize I forgot to buy milk. And mail the bills out. And take my mother's tupperware back. There's always tomorrow.....
I had a few errands to run this afternoon. About 4 stops that should have taken 5 minutes each. Uh-huh. I decided to take MiddleSon along with me. I try to take just 1 kid with me on trips like this. A little quality time mixed in with some real life experience. Afterall, they'll have to go to the bank and the post office and the dry cleaners and the gas station on their own one day.
So the drive-thru bank window. Only two lanes, quite a few cars ahead of me. We wait ten minutes. I had to turn off the engine after two, or risk running out of gas (I knew I should've gone to the station first). I would've backed out, but there was already 2 cars behind me. Finally, there is one car left ahead of me. And they apparently have about 8 transactions to complete. Totally ignoring the big red sign that said "For more than three transactions, transactions with rolled coin, or business deposits, please use the inside lobby" This guy had all of this. Trust me, the weather was mild, my window was rolled down, and I could hear him complaining to the teller through the speaker that he had places to go already, what was the hold up?! When I finally got to the window my own business took about 2 minutes.
Next is the post office. I had 10 packages to drop off. These were all ready, and had the postage printed on them. All I had to do was set them on the counter and go. However, I like to make sure the clerks actually get them, so I always wait to hand them over. There is a long line. I have never been more proud of MiddleSon as we stood patiently. The first man in line was mailing in his taxes. He wanted to send them Priority, No Express Mail. Wait, he should probably insure that. Hang on, how much does registered mail cost? Do other people pay for registered mail? What sort of things do people mail that need to be insured and have a signature confirmation?
The next gentlemen in line had a stack of 4 or 5 smaller envelopes. While waiting on Mr. Tax Guy, he kept getting out of line to check out the postal mailing supplies. He'd pick something out. Put it back. Pick something different out. Put it back and grab the first thing again. Okay, I get that he couldn't make up his mind. However, when it was his turn at the counter, he had none of his envelopes addressed, and was still folding things to put in the envelopes. Dude, you just waited in line for ten minutes, you couldn't have taken care of that? He bought his stamps and mailing supplies and decided to stand right there by the clerk to fill out everything. I distinctly heard the sweet grandfatherly-looking gentleman behind me mutter "Come on, asshole" After a minute, the clerk saw this and asked him to step aside. He moved over a quarter of an inch. The next man was right in front of me. Thankfully, he was only buying a few stamps. Uh...not those ones. Do you have anything different? Ugh, is that all? Okay I'll take those first ones you showed me. I need 5. No, 6. (Clerk rips stamps out of a standard book) Actually, I better just buy a book. (Cashier hands over the book she had been tearing his stamps out of) Can I get a whole one? Thankfully, the cashier gives him the icy-glare-of-death and the man buys his not-quite-whole book of stamps. My turn! Clerks know me very well. They know that my postage is bought online and my packages are always ready to go. All they have to do is toss them in the outgoing bins. She looks, oddly, relieved to see me.
Okay, luckily the gas station is self-serve, I'm thinking at this point. No waiting on cashiers or other customers. There are 4 cars waiting. The other pump is out of order. Despite the line (or maybe because of it) things move quickly. Until the car ahead of me (of course. What else would you be thinking by now?) He has six 5-gallon containers in the bed of his truck to fill up. I decided that if I try really really hard, I can convince my car to run on fumes for a few more miles. The power of suggestion is a strong one indeed. I leave the gas station with MiddleSon asking nervously from the back seat, "Will we run out of gas again mom? Will dad have to come get us? Will we have to walk?!?!" He has been extraordinarily patient up to this point.
Normally, when Toddler-free, I like to take my time in the grocery store. Check out the sales and browse for a good deal. But because I am the mother of 3 children, I have learned to speed shop. I know where everything in the small store is and can buy a weeks' worth of groceries in 15 minutes. Luckily, I have no complaints about the store today. Until (you knew this was coming) I got into the parking lot. Very Nice Lady (VNL) was unloading her cart into her car at the same time I was. VNL was parked next to me. VNL remarked that the weather sure was unpredictable lately, but gee it was nice today. She hoped it would hold out. But no, it looked like it was going to rain. By now, my cart is unloaded, MiddleSon has returned it to the corral, and I have shut the trunk. I am fidgeting with the keys in my hand. I have the drivers door open and one leg in the car. VNL remarks how quiet and and well behaved MS is. I thank her, and say I better get home to fix some lunch. VNL says oh yes, she knows how growing boys are, eating all the time! Eat you out of house and home! She really is very nice, but I have already been gone an hour and have more to do. So I take my, "Oops my cell phone is ringing" escape route and duck into the car.
Back to the gas station......no cars! Yippee! I fill up my tank, which leaves me about $4.22 left in my checking account.
Drycleaners for some dress clothes I will be selling. I have my ticket. I have my money. But I have no patience left. And of course, the drycleaners is closed for lunch. I absolutely have to get these clothes today so that I can get them sold. I make a plan. Not the smartest or best thought out, but it is a plan nonetheless. I decide to try and drop Son and groceries off at home and then swing back to the cleaners. All the while trying to avoid letting Toddler see that mommy's car is in the driveway. When I get home, Toddler finally notices that I have been gone. Without him! (I'd snuck out so he wouldn't see me go, I am a bad mom). Oh the horror! The terrible horrible unadulterated PG13 horror! Toddler throws a fit. I give up. The drycleaning can wait until another day.
So I am home. I am tired. And I realize I forgot to buy milk. And mail the bills out. And take my mother's tupperware back. There's always tomorrow.....
Monday, March 24, 2008
Not to brag....
...but I sure do like me. I am always busy, yet I never seem to get everything I want done. I am always tired, but then I feel guilty for going to bed early or sleeping in. I spend hours in the kitchen, but dinner sometimes feels half-assed and there's always one more dish in the sink. I can speed-fold the laundry, but one more load is always waiting in the dryer. I spend hours working with the boys on their school subjects, and they're still behind their grade level.
That said.....I do like me. I like my life. I like my husband and kids. I like my house. I like my work-at-home job. So for my ehellion friends behind my computer screen, here we go......
I like me because I know:
I am not the tallest, but I am not the shortest.
I am not the smartest, but I am not the dumbest.
I am not the skinniest, but I am healthy.
I am not a supermodel, but I am not ugly.
I am not a vigilant house cleaner, but I don't live like a slob.
I am not a comedian, but people always laugh at my jokes.
I am not the most athletic, but I can teach my kids to play ball.
I am not the busiest, but I am not lazy.
I am not a gourmet cook, but I am creative in the kitchen.
I am not super frugal, but I am great at finding deals.
I am not the most gracious person to walk the earth, but I am not a total bitch.
I am not drowning in money, but I am not drowning in debt, either.
I am not Super Mom, but no one else is either.
I am not the greatest friend one could hope for, but I am a good listener.
I am not the perfect sister/daughter, but I am there when they need me.
I like me because I can laugh at myself. I can make the darkest situation slightly better. I am the one you hear laughing *not disrepectfully* at the funeral. And making others laugh as well. I drive an old beater and make jokes that I wish it was stolen so I could get the insurance money. I have rolled dimes to buy gas while I have money for the kids birthday presents in the bank. I have bought gifts and cards for my family and friends when there was absolutely no reason or special occasion except that I like to make them smile. I cook dinners for people home from the hospital or with new babies and then serve frozen pizza at home. I have worn the same pair of boots for 5 winters while my kids get new cleats for every baseball season. And I actually like all that about myself. It's what makes me the Best & Worst. And it's what makes me -me-
That said.....I do like me. I like my life. I like my husband and kids. I like my house. I like my work-at-home job. So for my ehellion friends behind my computer screen, here we go......
I like me because I know:
I am not the tallest, but I am not the shortest.
I am not the smartest, but I am not the dumbest.
I am not the skinniest, but I am healthy.
I am not a supermodel, but I am not ugly.
I am not a vigilant house cleaner, but I don't live like a slob.
I am not a comedian, but people always laugh at my jokes.
I am not the most athletic, but I can teach my kids to play ball.
I am not the busiest, but I am not lazy.
I am not a gourmet cook, but I am creative in the kitchen.
I am not super frugal, but I am great at finding deals.
I am not the most gracious person to walk the earth, but I am not a total bitch.
I am not drowning in money, but I am not drowning in debt, either.
I am not Super Mom, but no one else is either.
I am not the greatest friend one could hope for, but I am a good listener.
I am not the perfect sister/daughter, but I am there when they need me.
I like me because I can laugh at myself. I can make the darkest situation slightly better. I am the one you hear laughing *not disrepectfully* at the funeral. And making others laugh as well. I drive an old beater and make jokes that I wish it was stolen so I could get the insurance money. I have rolled dimes to buy gas while I have money for the kids birthday presents in the bank. I have bought gifts and cards for my family and friends when there was absolutely no reason or special occasion except that I like to make them smile. I cook dinners for people home from the hospital or with new babies and then serve frozen pizza at home. I have worn the same pair of boots for 5 winters while my kids get new cleats for every baseball season. And I actually like all that about myself. It's what makes me the Best & Worst. And it's what makes me -me-
Hey! Bunnies don't lay eggs!
This is a story about my Easter woes. But to tell you about Sunday, I have to tell you about Saturday.
I am fairly active in my church. Even though I am not in a position to donate hugely in a monetary way, I volunteer a lot of time and effort. To make sure there would be a nice variety of food for the Easter lunch after services, the ladies who wanted to participate drew foods from a hat rather than having a typical pot luck sign up. Two ladies and myself decided to work together in my kitchen Saturday morning. I drew baked beans, another drew potato salad and the third drew 'hot dessert.' Fine, good, nice easy stuff. Each of us also volunteered to hard boil 3 dozen eggs each. There is a movie night for the kids on Saturday night, and we were going to let the older ones color the eggs (the younger ones were painting wooden eggs....we were smart about that!). Those eggs would then be used as part of the egg hunt Sunday afternoon.
So that's how my Saturday went. I was busy, but I was happy. I've been in a bit of a slump lately, and working constantly took my mind off of things. Saturday night it was my Sister-in-Laws turn to shuffle the boys to movie night. Afterwards, we did our own egg coloring and by the time we sent the boys off to bed, I was dead on my feet. But I managed to put the kids baskets together and tidy the house up. It is well past 1 am by the time I get to bed.
Easter Sunday! Yeah, hoorah! Wait...I forgot I was an adult and there was no basket with 2 lbs of sugar waiting for me. Ah well, I can steal some from the kids. We do our own little mini egg hunt and the kids dig into their mounds of sugary delight. I notice my toddler is playing with a (now cracked) egg and sort of picking at his basket. He is glassy eyed and has a fever. Joy. Because of a minor heart condition, he gets really high fevers with no notice and no other symptoms. They spike quickly, like within 10 minutes, and get up to 101 or 102 degrees. Scary, but I have learned to handle it pretty well. My Darling Husband could handle it, but he gets nervous. I decide to stay home. I call another mom, who agrees to pick up the kids and my dishes for church.
After 2 hours or so, Toddler is feeling better. The fever has come down, but he is still a bit lazy and listless. I decide to try and hit the end of church services and be on hand to help during lunch and the egg hunt. I arrive at the church at the tale end of the sermon and manage to sneak into a back pew. Then I head down to the kitchen to help if I can. Now, the deal was that some of us drew food, while others drew services. I know for a fact that 3 members drew kitchen help. Basically setting out silverware, serving the food, filling drinks. There were supposed to be at least 12 people in the kitchen. There are 4. So I help and skip lunch. When it's time to take the kiddos out for the egg hunt, I told the youth director I was going out front for a cigarette (away from the kids) and she could find me if I was needed. Two puffs into the cig, I was needed. There weren't enough people to help out the littlest kids (in the 1-3 age range). Wait, I said, I don't have a kid in the 1-3 age range here. Toddler is at home. Where are all the 1-3 age range parents. They are finishing lunch. Harumph (I always wanted to type that). Must be nice. Some of us never even started lunch. But I help. The hunt only takes 15 minutes or so, but 10 minutes in my cell rings. Toddler is feeling yucky again. Can I come home? Surely dear, surely. By now I am ready to escape.
That afternoon, Toddler is feeling better and I take him and his older 2 brothers to visit family. Not only do my parents make up baskets for them, but so do my aunt & uncle and my cousin's family. By the time we leave, we have enough candy to supply an army. The good thing is that now they have so much they really won't notice if DH and I snitch a piece. Or four. or eight. However, I don't know what we will do if the kids grow up and like Snickers.
Finally something wonderful happens. My brother & SIL call and would like to have my older 2 come spend the night. Trust me when I say that I could see the shining golden light and could hear the angels singing. At least I would have them out of my hair for a night.
Two hours after they are gone I realize how sorely mistaken I was. Toddler is so very attached to his older brothers. So that when they are gone, he is like a lost child. Think "Lord of the Flies" type lost child. He has no direction, no anchor. I see him slowly de-evolving from lack of companionship. Do DH and I qualify as companionship? Of course not. We're parents, and that's an entirely different species altogether.
My Easter evening is no more enjoyable than my Easter day. It is well after 7 before I realize that the only thing I've eaten all day is a mini Reese cup and a handful of jelly beans. Am I cooking for just us? Hell no. Cheese sandwiches and corn chips all around! Toddler is not happy with me. And quite frankly, neither is DH. I appease the 2 angry men in my life by allowing them full access to the other kids Easter bounty. They are sated.
The moral of this story is that there is no moral of this story. Children of the world....please remember that wonderful holidays for you are often like working a 22 hour day for your mother. At least I have a couple of months before the next one.....
I am fairly active in my church. Even though I am not in a position to donate hugely in a monetary way, I volunteer a lot of time and effort. To make sure there would be a nice variety of food for the Easter lunch after services, the ladies who wanted to participate drew foods from a hat rather than having a typical pot luck sign up. Two ladies and myself decided to work together in my kitchen Saturday morning. I drew baked beans, another drew potato salad and the third drew 'hot dessert.' Fine, good, nice easy stuff. Each of us also volunteered to hard boil 3 dozen eggs each. There is a movie night for the kids on Saturday night, and we were going to let the older ones color the eggs (the younger ones were painting wooden eggs....we were smart about that!). Those eggs would then be used as part of the egg hunt Sunday afternoon.
So that's how my Saturday went. I was busy, but I was happy. I've been in a bit of a slump lately, and working constantly took my mind off of things. Saturday night it was my Sister-in-Laws turn to shuffle the boys to movie night. Afterwards, we did our own egg coloring and by the time we sent the boys off to bed, I was dead on my feet. But I managed to put the kids baskets together and tidy the house up. It is well past 1 am by the time I get to bed.
Easter Sunday! Yeah, hoorah! Wait...I forgot I was an adult and there was no basket with 2 lbs of sugar waiting for me. Ah well, I can steal some from the kids. We do our own little mini egg hunt and the kids dig into their mounds of sugary delight. I notice my toddler is playing with a (now cracked) egg and sort of picking at his basket. He is glassy eyed and has a fever. Joy. Because of a minor heart condition, he gets really high fevers with no notice and no other symptoms. They spike quickly, like within 10 minutes, and get up to 101 or 102 degrees. Scary, but I have learned to handle it pretty well. My Darling Husband could handle it, but he gets nervous. I decide to stay home. I call another mom, who agrees to pick up the kids and my dishes for church.
After 2 hours or so, Toddler is feeling better. The fever has come down, but he is still a bit lazy and listless. I decide to try and hit the end of church services and be on hand to help during lunch and the egg hunt. I arrive at the church at the tale end of the sermon and manage to sneak into a back pew. Then I head down to the kitchen to help if I can. Now, the deal was that some of us drew food, while others drew services. I know for a fact that 3 members drew kitchen help. Basically setting out silverware, serving the food, filling drinks. There were supposed to be at least 12 people in the kitchen. There are 4. So I help and skip lunch. When it's time to take the kiddos out for the egg hunt, I told the youth director I was going out front for a cigarette (away from the kids) and she could find me if I was needed. Two puffs into the cig, I was needed. There weren't enough people to help out the littlest kids (in the 1-3 age range). Wait, I said, I don't have a kid in the 1-3 age range here. Toddler is at home. Where are all the 1-3 age range parents. They are finishing lunch. Harumph (I always wanted to type that). Must be nice. Some of us never even started lunch. But I help. The hunt only takes 15 minutes or so, but 10 minutes in my cell rings. Toddler is feeling yucky again. Can I come home? Surely dear, surely. By now I am ready to escape.
That afternoon, Toddler is feeling better and I take him and his older 2 brothers to visit family. Not only do my parents make up baskets for them, but so do my aunt & uncle and my cousin's family. By the time we leave, we have enough candy to supply an army. The good thing is that now they have so much they really won't notice if DH and I snitch a piece. Or four. or eight. However, I don't know what we will do if the kids grow up and like Snickers.
Finally something wonderful happens. My brother & SIL call and would like to have my older 2 come spend the night. Trust me when I say that I could see the shining golden light and could hear the angels singing. At least I would have them out of my hair for a night.
Two hours after they are gone I realize how sorely mistaken I was. Toddler is so very attached to his older brothers. So that when they are gone, he is like a lost child. Think "Lord of the Flies" type lost child. He has no direction, no anchor. I see him slowly de-evolving from lack of companionship. Do DH and I qualify as companionship? Of course not. We're parents, and that's an entirely different species altogether.
My Easter evening is no more enjoyable than my Easter day. It is well after 7 before I realize that the only thing I've eaten all day is a mini Reese cup and a handful of jelly beans. Am I cooking for just us? Hell no. Cheese sandwiches and corn chips all around! Toddler is not happy with me. And quite frankly, neither is DH. I appease the 2 angry men in my life by allowing them full access to the other kids Easter bounty. They are sated.
The moral of this story is that there is no moral of this story. Children of the world....please remember that wonderful holidays for you are often like working a 22 hour day for your mother. At least I have a couple of months before the next one.....
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