My boss told me the other day she had just found out that a friend had cancer, and she thought she'd buy them a couple good movies, preferably comedies, to cheer them up. She asked what I would recommend. So I of course immediately name one of the greatest comedies ever made - The Princess Bride. She looks at me blankly and says she's never heard of it.
What? Never heard of it? INCONCEIVABLE! (OK, you need to have seen the movie to understand that...)
How could you not know a movie with such classic lines as....
(Inigo): "Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." (Count Rugen): "Stop saying that!"
(Vizzini): "INCONCEIVABLE!" (Inigo): "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
(Inigo): "You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you." (Wesley): "You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die.
Seriously...if you haven't yet, you MUST see this movie. It's hilarious.
The next best comedy ever...The Out of Towners. Not the Steve Martin version. Remakes of movies should be against the law because they most typically always stink, in my opinion. No, you gotta see the classic original of this one with Jack Lemmon and Sandy Dennis. From the moment their flight is delayed getting into NYC until they board the plane again to head back to Ohio, this movie has one hilarious moment after another. The first memory I have of it is from when I was a kid, upstairs in bed for the night one evening. We lived in that teeny-tiny house on Second Street, and the living room was right under my bedroom. Mom and dad were watching The Out of Towners on TV...and my dad was laughing so hard I thought he was going to have a stroke. I even got up and went downstairs to see what on earth was going on. That's probably another reason why I love that movie...It always gives me that picture of my dad laughing hysterically. That..and the fact that it still makes me laugh out loud myself every time I see it.
And then there are those movies that are so stupid that they're funny. Airplane! is the first to come to mind. I mean, who in the world ever would have thought of Mrs. Cleaver talking Jive? Or this conversation....Rumack: You'd better tell the Captain we've got to land as soon as we can. This woman has to be gotten to a hospital. Elaine Dickinson: A hospital? What is it? Rumack: It's a big building with patients, but that's not important right now.
I tell ya, it took a great mind to come up with that. Or a demented one.
I just found myself a new favorite the other day too. Madagascar. I don't care if it is animated and I am 37 years old...it's still funny! I told someone the other day I really enjoyed that movie and they said "Surely you can't be serious!"
I am serious.
And don't call me Shirley. (hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!)
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
I've Had Better Nights...
Last night was a rough night. Wanna hear about it? (If not...stop reading now... :) )
I hate waking up sick in the middle of the night. Because it's always nights when I'm extremely tired and have usually laid down thinking "I'm really looking forward to a good night's sleep." Perhaps if I just stopped thinking this I wouldn't have such problems. Though I highly doubt it. And anyway, I usually think it before I realize that I've thought it, so that theory can never be proven. See...I haven't had enough sleep. I always ramble like this when sleep deprived...
So, it started around 1:30 or so. I'll spare you the details, but it was a get up, spend time in the bathroom, try to lay back down...and in about 1/2 hour or so go through the routine again. Misery.
So about the third round of this little game I'm staggering through the dark and suddenly feel a stabbing pain in my foot. What in the world is that?? OK, now I'm in the bathroom in the dark because I didn't turn on the light, I can't step down on my foot and I left my glasses in the other room so I'm basically blind. I start feeling the bottom of my foot and realize my hand is suddenly wet. Great...I'm bleeding. Oh, that could be coming from the shard of glass that has embedded itself by the base of my toes. Good Grief, where did that come from?! I can feel it, but can't get it out. And actually, it feels like it's driving in deeper. So I tell myself - don't panic...there's a pair of tweezers around here somewhere....OK - found them, now carefully find the glass and pull it out. Yeah, just like playing "Operation" when we were kids. Except the sound of the buzzer and his nose lighting up when you touched the side is now replaced by me yelping as the glass comes out. **sigh**
Well, I waller through the rest of the night and finally just get up at 6. My morning routine that normally takes 30 minutes lasts about an hour and 30 minutes. No contacts today...my eyes won't hear of it. Finally I head out. Now, once I get out of the Shelby City limits, there is nothing but farmland and stray dogs on my way to work. So any "problems" I may be having needs to be under control or else it gets really ugly about halfway there, if you know what I mean. I got about 3 minutes past the fail-safe line, and the system started malfunctioning again. So I do a fast u-turn and head back to mom's. (Thank God she lives on that side of town.) I fly into her house and visit her bathroom a while. Call my boss...gonna be late. She assures me it's fine...just stay home if I need to. Ah, too much to do...better try to get there. I should have listened to her. What a miserable day as well.
The only upside to all of this....surely tonight and tomorrow has to be better, right?
Well, here's to praying for that, anyway!
May you all have a misery-free day ahead!
I hate waking up sick in the middle of the night. Because it's always nights when I'm extremely tired and have usually laid down thinking "I'm really looking forward to a good night's sleep." Perhaps if I just stopped thinking this I wouldn't have such problems. Though I highly doubt it. And anyway, I usually think it before I realize that I've thought it, so that theory can never be proven. See...I haven't had enough sleep. I always ramble like this when sleep deprived...
So, it started around 1:30 or so. I'll spare you the details, but it was a get up, spend time in the bathroom, try to lay back down...and in about 1/2 hour or so go through the routine again. Misery.
So about the third round of this little game I'm staggering through the dark and suddenly feel a stabbing pain in my foot. What in the world is that?? OK, now I'm in the bathroom in the dark because I didn't turn on the light, I can't step down on my foot and I left my glasses in the other room so I'm basically blind. I start feeling the bottom of my foot and realize my hand is suddenly wet. Great...I'm bleeding. Oh, that could be coming from the shard of glass that has embedded itself by the base of my toes. Good Grief, where did that come from?! I can feel it, but can't get it out. And actually, it feels like it's driving in deeper. So I tell myself - don't panic...there's a pair of tweezers around here somewhere....OK - found them, now carefully find the glass and pull it out. Yeah, just like playing "Operation" when we were kids. Except the sound of the buzzer and his nose lighting up when you touched the side is now replaced by me yelping as the glass comes out. **sigh**
Well, I waller through the rest of the night and finally just get up at 6. My morning routine that normally takes 30 minutes lasts about an hour and 30 minutes. No contacts today...my eyes won't hear of it. Finally I head out. Now, once I get out of the Shelby City limits, there is nothing but farmland and stray dogs on my way to work. So any "problems" I may be having needs to be under control or else it gets really ugly about halfway there, if you know what I mean. I got about 3 minutes past the fail-safe line, and the system started malfunctioning again. So I do a fast u-turn and head back to mom's. (Thank God she lives on that side of town.) I fly into her house and visit her bathroom a while. Call my boss...gonna be late. She assures me it's fine...just stay home if I need to. Ah, too much to do...better try to get there. I should have listened to her. What a miserable day as well.
The only upside to all of this....surely tonight and tomorrow has to be better, right?
Well, here's to praying for that, anyway!
May you all have a misery-free day ahead!
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Conversations with Momma
My Mom has many talents. Sewing, cooking, crafting, general insanity. However, there are some things that give her trouble. Electronics can sometimes be one of them. Tonight was a classic example. She was trying to download a picture of the big purple dress she recently worked on. So she calls me 'cause it's not working. I try to help. The conversation goes roughly something like this:
Me: "OK mom, find the USB cable that fits that camera and hook it into the computer. It should start up automatically for you then."
Mom: "What's an SUV cable?"
Me: "No, not SUV...USB"
Mom: "OK. What's it look like"
Me: "It's probably black. One end fits into the computer...like the one that you use for your Zune..."
Mom: "Oh, it has those ends?"
Me: ??? "Yeah...I guess..."
Mom: "You mean the one like goes into the end of the white one with the prong things?"
Me: "I have no idea what you're talking about"
Mom: "You know, the Zune"
Me: (dear lord) "Mom, what do you charge your Zune with? Do you know that cord that you use?"
Mom: "Yeah, with the white prong thing!"
Me: (finally getting that she's talking about an AC adaptor that the USB cord hooks into) "Yes - that's the one. There's a cord like that for your camera too. You have to find that one."
Mom: "Can I use the one for the Zune?"
Me: "No...it won't fit"
Mom: "Are you sure?"
Me: "Yes, mom...I'm sure. One of the ends is too big. You have to find the one for the camera."
Mom: "OK. Where is it?"
Me: "Well, I really don't know. Is it with the bag?"
Mom: "The bag"
Me: "Yeah...the bag you carry the camera in"
Mom: "I'll look" (sounds of shuffling and drawers opening and shutting) "No...it's not here. OH, here's a tape I can listen to that came with it. I have to see this. Wait...here's the box." (More sounds of shuffling) "I can't get the box open. Who made this box?? Why did they put it together like this?? Oh, there, it's open. What is this white plastic thing? I don't see a cord. Would it be under...what is this for? Oh, don't need that. OK...no, it's not in the box."
Me: "OK, well, I don't know where it is then..."
Mom: "Are you sure the Zune won't work?"
Me: "Yes mom, I'm sure"
Mom: "I see a circle on the camera. Is that where it goes?"
Me: "I don't think so. USB sockets are not usually circles. There should be another spot."
Mom: "I don't see it."
Me: "You probably have to pull open a little rubber or plastic cover to find it."
Mom: "There is no rubber cover. Oh...is...oh...Wait, here's a hole. Does it have those teeth things down on it?"
Me: ".........what????........"
Mom: "Those things like teeth...you know."
Me: "I.....I really don't know Mom"
Mom: "OK, well, I'll just have to wait until you come over then."
Me: "OK...we'll take care of it then."
Yep, just a typical conversation on a typical night.
I'm not worried though, because I know I'll be able to get the photo loaded for her.
Especially since I just found her "SUV" cord in a group of stuff that I brought over here to my apartment.
Go figure.
Me: "OK mom, find the USB cable that fits that camera and hook it into the computer. It should start up automatically for you then."
Mom: "What's an SUV cable?"
Me: "No, not SUV...USB"
Mom: "OK. What's it look like"
Me: "It's probably black. One end fits into the computer...like the one that you use for your Zune..."
Mom: "Oh, it has those ends?"
Me: ??? "Yeah...I guess..."
Mom: "You mean the one like goes into the end of the white one with the prong things?"
Me: "I have no idea what you're talking about"
Mom: "You know, the Zune"
Me: (dear lord) "Mom, what do you charge your Zune with? Do you know that cord that you use?"
Mom: "Yeah, with the white prong thing!"
Me: (finally getting that she's talking about an AC adaptor that the USB cord hooks into) "Yes - that's the one. There's a cord like that for your camera too. You have to find that one."
Mom: "Can I use the one for the Zune?"
Me: "No...it won't fit"
Mom: "Are you sure?"
Me: "Yes, mom...I'm sure. One of the ends is too big. You have to find the one for the camera."
Mom: "OK. Where is it?"
Me: "Well, I really don't know. Is it with the bag?"
Mom: "The bag"
Me: "Yeah...the bag you carry the camera in"
Mom: "I'll look" (sounds of shuffling and drawers opening and shutting) "No...it's not here. OH, here's a tape I can listen to that came with it. I have to see this. Wait...here's the box." (More sounds of shuffling) "I can't get the box open. Who made this box?? Why did they put it together like this?? Oh, there, it's open. What is this white plastic thing? I don't see a cord. Would it be under...what is this for? Oh, don't need that. OK...no, it's not in the box."
Me: "OK, well, I don't know where it is then..."
Mom: "Are you sure the Zune won't work?"
Me: "Yes mom, I'm sure"
Mom: "I see a circle on the camera. Is that where it goes?"
Me: "I don't think so. USB sockets are not usually circles. There should be another spot."
Mom: "I don't see it."
Me: "You probably have to pull open a little rubber or plastic cover to find it."
Mom: "There is no rubber cover. Oh...is...oh...Wait, here's a hole. Does it have those teeth things down on it?"
Me: ".........what????........"
Mom: "Those things like teeth...you know."
Me: "I.....I really don't know Mom"
Mom: "OK, well, I'll just have to wait until you come over then."
Me: "OK...we'll take care of it then."
Yep, just a typical conversation on a typical night.
I'm not worried though, because I know I'll be able to get the photo loaded for her.
Especially since I just found her "SUV" cord in a group of stuff that I brought over here to my apartment.
Go figure.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Apartment Livin'
I'm ready to move.
I have lived in the same apartment since 1994. Or maybe it was 1996. Well, whenever that bomb went off in Olympic park at the Atlanta games...that's the day I moved in here. (What a way to remember it, huh...) I have 4 rooms...living, bed, bath and kitchen. I'm not complaining about it - they're good sized...the building is pretty secure....we have a laundry room in the basement...I don't have to worry about mowing the grass or shoveling walks. A lot of folks out there are a lot worse off than me. But still...I'm ready for a change.
For one, there are some distinct downsides to apartment living. One such issue...while there is a laundry room, of course we have to pay. Quarters only. I hoard quarters like a raving lunatic. I mean it...if it came right down to it, I'd cut your little pinkie right off to get a quarter away from you. It truly brings out a less-than-lovely side to a soul's personality.
On top of that, I live on the second floor. Which means since the laundry room is in the basement, I have to go down 3 flights of stairs to get to it. So I load up my basket as full as I can possibly cram it and lug it down the stairs. Open the basement door...no - can't open it - neighbor locked it on me. Don't have my keys. Put the basket down...back up the stairs. Get the keys, back down the stairs, open the door, head down the treacherous stairway of death that is nearly too narrow to carry a basket down. Get to the washers and realize...someone else has left their wash in them. OK...don't want to carry that stupid basket back upstairs, so will leave it downstairs in my bin. Hmm...left the key to my bin upstairs. !!!!! Hide the basket back in the corner and hope no one steals my clothes. Repeat this process about 3 times before whoever it was finally retrieves their clothes. Did I bring the quar...I forgot the stupid quarters upstairs! Back up. Back down. Back up to wait. Back down to retrieve. Clothes are Gainy fresh. Now...if I could just get the others to get theirs out of the stupid dryer...
Parking is a joy too. There's no garage. And the lot is on the other side of the building from my place. So I normally park on the road in front of my door. That is, until everybody else in the building decides they want to park there too. Oh, but they only do that on the nights that I have 100 pounds of stuff to carry in. You'd think I'd be in better shape than I am by now. And winter is just grand. Try scraping 12 inches of ice and snow off a car standing the middle of a road where apparently people are not allowed to slow down as they drive through it because they sure as shootin' never do! The greatest invention I've ever found is "Heet" in a can. Takes ice right off the car. Of course I discovered the hard way that since the can is metal it will also eat the flesh right off your fingers if you spray it on a cold morning without gloves on. I cried all the way to work one day. It was not pretty.
Another problem is...well, me. I appear to be a bit of a pack rat. So you do the math....4 rooms....15 years.....that's a lot of junk in a little space. A LOT of junk. Really...you just have no idea how much junk...
SO...I'm ripe for a change. Someday, maybe, it will be a reality. I can't wait for the moment.
AND I dread it.
I mean, dear lord...how I am I going to pack all this junk...
I have lived in the same apartment since 1994. Or maybe it was 1996. Well, whenever that bomb went off in Olympic park at the Atlanta games...that's the day I moved in here. (What a way to remember it, huh...) I have 4 rooms...living, bed, bath and kitchen. I'm not complaining about it - they're good sized...the building is pretty secure....we have a laundry room in the basement...I don't have to worry about mowing the grass or shoveling walks. A lot of folks out there are a lot worse off than me. But still...I'm ready for a change.
For one, there are some distinct downsides to apartment living. One such issue...while there is a laundry room, of course we have to pay. Quarters only. I hoard quarters like a raving lunatic. I mean it...if it came right down to it, I'd cut your little pinkie right off to get a quarter away from you. It truly brings out a less-than-lovely side to a soul's personality.
On top of that, I live on the second floor. Which means since the laundry room is in the basement, I have to go down 3 flights of stairs to get to it. So I load up my basket as full as I can possibly cram it and lug it down the stairs. Open the basement door...no - can't open it - neighbor locked it on me. Don't have my keys. Put the basket down...back up the stairs. Get the keys, back down the stairs, open the door, head down the treacherous stairway of death that is nearly too narrow to carry a basket down. Get to the washers and realize...someone else has left their wash in them. OK...don't want to carry that stupid basket back upstairs, so will leave it downstairs in my bin. Hmm...left the key to my bin upstairs. !!!!! Hide the basket back in the corner and hope no one steals my clothes. Repeat this process about 3 times before whoever it was finally retrieves their clothes. Did I bring the quar...I forgot the stupid quarters upstairs! Back up. Back down. Back up to wait. Back down to retrieve. Clothes are Gainy fresh. Now...if I could just get the others to get theirs out of the stupid dryer...
Parking is a joy too. There's no garage. And the lot is on the other side of the building from my place. So I normally park on the road in front of my door. That is, until everybody else in the building decides they want to park there too. Oh, but they only do that on the nights that I have 100 pounds of stuff to carry in. You'd think I'd be in better shape than I am by now. And winter is just grand. Try scraping 12 inches of ice and snow off a car standing the middle of a road where apparently people are not allowed to slow down as they drive through it because they sure as shootin' never do! The greatest invention I've ever found is "Heet" in a can. Takes ice right off the car. Of course I discovered the hard way that since the can is metal it will also eat the flesh right off your fingers if you spray it on a cold morning without gloves on. I cried all the way to work one day. It was not pretty.
Another problem is...well, me. I appear to be a bit of a pack rat. So you do the math....4 rooms....15 years.....that's a lot of junk in a little space. A LOT of junk. Really...you just have no idea how much junk...
SO...I'm ripe for a change. Someday, maybe, it will be a reality. I can't wait for the moment.
AND I dread it.
I mean, dear lord...how I am I going to pack all this junk...
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Proud To Be A.....(insert weird mascot name here)
I wonder about things a lot. Usually it's stuff that has no real-world value, but...well, it's out there so somebody oughta think about it from time to time. Might as well be me.
As crazy as Brutus Buckeye may seem to some, there are other schools who are even less fortunate in the mascot arena. I mean, would you like to be a University of California-Santa Cruz Banana Slug? BANANA SLUG. I'm thinkin' someone had been inhaling a bit too much of that funny weed they grow out that way to have even considered that one. Or how about the Scottsdale Fighting Artichokes? Or the North Carolina School of Arts Fighting Pickles? A fighting pickle. Even for Art school kids...that's bad.
Last night I was thinking about mascots. Where did the concept of a mascot come from? I read one place that they have found cave drawings that suggest the mascot dates back to the caveman days. OK, so Ugg and Grogg didn't have fire, wheels or weapons, but Willy the Woolly Mammoth was the epitome of team spirit at the local rockball game. ???? I'm a bit skeptical...
Anyway, last night they were talking about one of the guys from church is now playing on a semi-pro football team called the Mansfield Marauders. Of course the big question was, what is a Marauder? Well, if you'd like to know...it's a pirate. Which in this day and age is not really a cool thing to be since the US Navy has been shooting them out of the water lately, but "Mansfield Marauder" does have a certain ring of terror to it, I suppose. And isn't that the whole point of a mascot, to strike fear deep into the heart of your opponent?...
I'm used to questions about strange mascot names. We here in Shelby are proud Whippets. What I didn't realize is that most of the outside world has no idea what a Whippet is. How sad. A Whippet is a sleek racing dog, similar to a Greyhound. Ah yes, everyone knows what a greyhound is. Of course, had it not been for the buses, they would have been clueless about them too. We used to have a wonderful Whippet mascot outfit that our school started using when I was a Senior. One of my best friends proudly got to name him...Victor E Hound. Then somehow someone lost the head (??? How in the world...) so they replaced it with a slightly deranged looking Whippet head. But deranged or not, we still hold it proud....
When Adam graduated, he left Whippetville for the land of Zippy, the Kangaroo. (Which prompted mom to make a clever little "From a Whip to a Zip" sign as displayed in photo above.) Who would have ever thought of a Kangaroo for a mascot?? But, as all kangaroo lovers know, they are animals "fast, agile & powerful with an undying determination." So today we also proudly "Fear The Roo", as Zippy compels us to do.
Of course us Ohio folk are well known as Buckeyes. I suppose it does look a bit strange. A giant nut-head with a body under it running around a stadium while the crowd goes wild. I'll admit, I can't really explain how a nut fosters a sense of pride and dignity. Some things you just have to take on faith. Trust me....
Of course us Ohio folk are well known as Buckeyes. I suppose it does look a bit strange. A giant nut-head with a body under it running around a stadium while the crowd goes wild. I'll admit, I can't really explain how a nut fosters a sense of pride and dignity. Some things you just have to take on faith. Trust me....
As crazy as Brutus Buckeye may seem to some, there are other schools who are even less fortunate in the mascot arena. I mean, would you like to be a University of California-Santa Cruz Banana Slug? BANANA SLUG. I'm thinkin' someone had been inhaling a bit too much of that funny weed they grow out that way to have even considered that one. Or how about the Scottsdale Fighting Artichokes? Or the North Carolina School of Arts Fighting Pickles? A fighting pickle. Even for Art school kids...that's bad.
So, I guess the moral of the story is that no matter how insane or bizarre they may seem to everyone else, every mascot has it's own faithful following. I know I stand tall and proclaim that I'm proud to be a Whippet...a Buckeye...a Zip. And I'm sure out there somewhere is someone who does the same when they shout "Yes, I'm a Freeport Fighting Pretzel!!"
Lord have mercy on them...
Friday, April 24, 2009
A Night In The Brown Life
Last night we went to visit some friends who live in Bellville, about 45 minutes from here. Their oldest son and his wife are moving to Washington (the state) because she is in the military and they've stationed her out there. So they were having a little going away party for them, and asked us to come down.
On the way we decide to grab a quick sandwich because we weren't sure if they were having food or what. (Mom was a little sketchy on the details of the evening.) So we decide to run through Arbys and do the roast beef thing. I ordered just a sandwich with just cheese - none of that runny red sauce they usually put all over the things. When we get them we unwrap the sandwiches and I ask Heather - "does the one you have have just cheese on it?" She answers in the affirmative. So I give Mom the one I have just unwrapped and take the one Heather has. As I'm about to bite into it a little voice tells me I might want to check it again. Sure enough, I have the wrong sandwich. (This is the second time now in the last couple weeks that one of my family members has ate a portion of my food before I could stop them! Heather ate half my taco the other night too! I'm gettin' tired of it, I tell ya!!) So I yell at mom that she's got the wrong sandwich and she swaps the full sandwich I'm holding with the full-sandwich-less-two-bites she's holding. Life is good again.
We soon get to our destination. Mom parks the car, then looks at me and says "They did invite us to this, right?" Well, this is a fine time to ask that question. I say, "Well, whether they did or not, they've got us now cause we're goin' in!" (They had invited us. I think mom's losing it.) We've known this family nearly all our lives and were very close to them when we were kids. They are a big family, and when they all get together...it's really loud. It reminds me a lot of when us Browns all gather in Granny Brown's little house. Basically you can't even hardly hear the person next to you but though nobody can really discern what anybody else is talking about everybody is still laughing and carrying on anyway. We enjoyed chatting with all, then wish Anthony and his wife the best and head out.
Now while we were there I made a huge mistake. I ate a grape. Yes, I said "a grape". I don't know what's going on in my system anymore, but I've got so I can't eat raw fruit. I've somehow become allergic to it. So I'm sitting in the middle of all the loudness and I can feel my throat swelling up. Not bad...just enough to annoy me. (Granted, it doesn't take much to annoy me as a general rule, but...) So when we get back in the car I ask mom if she has a Benadryl because, well, mom always has Benadryl. (That's what we all secretly call her...Benadryl Brenda! hahahahahaha!) She does (see, I told you!) so I take it. It works immediately, but also turns my limbs to pasta in the process. This would be OK except our night is not over as we need to make the obligatory Friday night pass through Wal-Mart. Give me a cart to lay on and off we go.
We quickly make our purchases (apparently everybody was kind of tired and ready to get home tonight) and head for the car. I had purchased a bottle of black cherry water to drink in the car because I was thirsty. (Pretty logical, huh?!) So I go to open it and all of the sudden it erupts like a small volcano, spewing black cherry water everywhere. Mom, who is driving the van, immediately starts making a noise like "NNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!" OK, gotta tell ya, when you have a small black cherry volcano exploding all over your lap, sounds like that are extremely annoying. So I finally get the water to stop spewing all over me and mom to stop screaming like an insane woman and start trying to figure out why water is erupting on me. Apparently in my Bendaryl-drug induced state I had purchased sparkling water instead of unsparkling water. (I doubt that's the correct term, but you no doubt understand my point.) I don't like sparkling water. Water that fizzes is an unnatural phenomenon that I do not believe God approves of. Unless you've dropped Alka-Seltzer in it. He's probably OK with that. But, for some reason I take a drink anyway (probably because I'm still thirsty) and immediately feel nauseous. So now I'm drenched and sick and all pasta-limbed...OK folks, it's time to call 'er a night.
Which is exactly what we did.
What does the next exciting installment of "The Brown Life" hold? Stay tuned, daring readers, to find out!!!
On the way we decide to grab a quick sandwich because we weren't sure if they were having food or what. (Mom was a little sketchy on the details of the evening.) So we decide to run through Arbys and do the roast beef thing. I ordered just a sandwich with just cheese - none of that runny red sauce they usually put all over the things. When we get them we unwrap the sandwiches and I ask Heather - "does the one you have have just cheese on it?" She answers in the affirmative. So I give Mom the one I have just unwrapped and take the one Heather has. As I'm about to bite into it a little voice tells me I might want to check it again. Sure enough, I have the wrong sandwich. (This is the second time now in the last couple weeks that one of my family members has ate a portion of my food before I could stop them! Heather ate half my taco the other night too! I'm gettin' tired of it, I tell ya!!) So I yell at mom that she's got the wrong sandwich and she swaps the full sandwich I'm holding with the full-sandwich-less-two-bites she's holding. Life is good again.
We soon get to our destination. Mom parks the car, then looks at me and says "They did invite us to this, right?" Well, this is a fine time to ask that question. I say, "Well, whether they did or not, they've got us now cause we're goin' in!" (They had invited us. I think mom's losing it.) We've known this family nearly all our lives and were very close to them when we were kids. They are a big family, and when they all get together...it's really loud. It reminds me a lot of when us Browns all gather in Granny Brown's little house. Basically you can't even hardly hear the person next to you but though nobody can really discern what anybody else is talking about everybody is still laughing and carrying on anyway. We enjoyed chatting with all, then wish Anthony and his wife the best and head out.
Now while we were there I made a huge mistake. I ate a grape. Yes, I said "a grape". I don't know what's going on in my system anymore, but I've got so I can't eat raw fruit. I've somehow become allergic to it. So I'm sitting in the middle of all the loudness and I can feel my throat swelling up. Not bad...just enough to annoy me. (Granted, it doesn't take much to annoy me as a general rule, but...) So when we get back in the car I ask mom if she has a Benadryl because, well, mom always has Benadryl. (That's what we all secretly call her...Benadryl Brenda! hahahahahaha!) She does (see, I told you!) so I take it. It works immediately, but also turns my limbs to pasta in the process. This would be OK except our night is not over as we need to make the obligatory Friday night pass through Wal-Mart. Give me a cart to lay on and off we go.
We quickly make our purchases (apparently everybody was kind of tired and ready to get home tonight) and head for the car. I had purchased a bottle of black cherry water to drink in the car because I was thirsty. (Pretty logical, huh?!) So I go to open it and all of the sudden it erupts like a small volcano, spewing black cherry water everywhere. Mom, who is driving the van, immediately starts making a noise like "NNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!" OK, gotta tell ya, when you have a small black cherry volcano exploding all over your lap, sounds like that are extremely annoying. So I finally get the water to stop spewing all over me and mom to stop screaming like an insane woman and start trying to figure out why water is erupting on me. Apparently in my Bendaryl-drug induced state I had purchased sparkling water instead of unsparkling water. (I doubt that's the correct term, but you no doubt understand my point.) I don't like sparkling water. Water that fizzes is an unnatural phenomenon that I do not believe God approves of. Unless you've dropped Alka-Seltzer in it. He's probably OK with that. But, for some reason I take a drink anyway (probably because I'm still thirsty) and immediately feel nauseous. So now I'm drenched and sick and all pasta-limbed...OK folks, it's time to call 'er a night.
Which is exactly what we did.
What does the next exciting installment of "The Brown Life" hold? Stay tuned, daring readers, to find out!!!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
They're Lying To Us
I reached into my purse today for a delectable piece of my favorite Stride gum when I noticed a graphic on the package that says "Ridiculously Improved". That seems a bit...well, over the top for gum. I mean, how can you "ridiculously" improve gum? Well, maybe if it was that dubble-bubble stuff that loses its flavor 2 seconds after you've put it in your mouth. Because any improvement to that stuff would be a "ridiculous" improvement. Really...have you ever chewed it? It's incomprehensible to me how fast it loses flavor. I'd be ashamed to sell it if I were them. I don't care how cute the little comics on the wrapper are. Seriously.
But....anyway...back to the Stride. Trying to be ever the optimist, I start chewing the gum and brace myself for the super-explosion of flavor and chewability improvement that I was about to experience.
Just as I suspected...they lied to me.
Companies do this all the time. They try to convince us that they've got the greatest product on the planet earth when they know they're selling us junk. It's insulting. It truly is. Do they think people do not care about such things? Do they think we have no passion about being lied to? Well, I'll tell you, if you want to experience the passion you should be sitting beside Aunt Diana when the Oxy-Clean guy comes on TV. She'll blow your eardrums out screaming "LIAR, LIAR"!!! Quite frankly, I don't think she likes Oxy-Clean.
Just like a couple of minutes ago...the latest Saturn commercial comes on where some guy in the shiniest green shirt I've ever seen in my life has the gall and audacity to sit on his little stool and tell us all how Saturn won't take your car away if you lose your job because they care about their customers and would never do anything to make their lives worse in bad times.
LIAR!! LIAR!!
As you might can tell, I have had prior bad experiences with the above mentioned company. And I can assure you, their main concern with me was not on the care and satisfaction of their customer. It wasn't. At all. All they wanted was my money. Trust me. Don't trust them.
So I stand my ground against all of the evil corporations who lie to us. I will not praise Stride for being ridiculously improved. (Although I do still chew it because, you know, I really like the gum. And it sure does beat dubble-bubble.) And I will not spend my hard earned dollars on another car from a guy sitting on a little stool just because he wears very shiny clothes.
No I won't.
Aunt Diana would be proud.
But....anyway...back to the Stride. Trying to be ever the optimist, I start chewing the gum and brace myself for the super-explosion of flavor and chewability improvement that I was about to experience.
Just as I suspected...they lied to me.
Companies do this all the time. They try to convince us that they've got the greatest product on the planet earth when they know they're selling us junk. It's insulting. It truly is. Do they think people do not care about such things? Do they think we have no passion about being lied to? Well, I'll tell you, if you want to experience the passion you should be sitting beside Aunt Diana when the Oxy-Clean guy comes on TV. She'll blow your eardrums out screaming "LIAR, LIAR"!!! Quite frankly, I don't think she likes Oxy-Clean.
Just like a couple of minutes ago...the latest Saturn commercial comes on where some guy in the shiniest green shirt I've ever seen in my life has the gall and audacity to sit on his little stool and tell us all how Saturn won't take your car away if you lose your job because they care about their customers and would never do anything to make their lives worse in bad times.
LIAR!! LIAR!!
As you might can tell, I have had prior bad experiences with the above mentioned company. And I can assure you, their main concern with me was not on the care and satisfaction of their customer. It wasn't. At all. All they wanted was my money. Trust me. Don't trust them.
So I stand my ground against all of the evil corporations who lie to us. I will not praise Stride for being ridiculously improved. (Although I do still chew it because, you know, I really like the gum. And it sure does beat dubble-bubble.) And I will not spend my hard earned dollars on another car from a guy sitting on a little stool just because he wears very shiny clothes.
No I won't.
Aunt Diana would be proud.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
A Great Day
So, I just get into work today when my boss's boss shows up at my desk. He says "I need you to come see me at 9:00. Are you free?" It's always lovely to have a superior start a conversation with you like that. So I tell him yes...and ask him if he would like to give me a clue as to what the meeting might be about. (I used to report directly to him too, so he pretty much is used to my "style" by now.) Sure...he has a special project that he knows I'll really enjoy doing. Mmm-hmm. Can't wait to hear this one.
So at 9 I meander upstairs. Turns out he has to give a presentation to an insurance board in a few weeks about marketing strategies for various age groups. He thinks it would be cool to do a video of three groups...A Baby Boomer, A Generation X'er, and A Generation Y'er. And he wants me to do the video for him.
I've become kind of the video guru over there since the day Dona (my boss) asked me if we could film a message from our CSR's to show at an agent's meeting. I said "Sure, I can do that." Actually, I had no idea if I could do that. (Well, I thought I probably could, so...close enough.) Thankfully I was right, and now they've got me doing these video things all the time. (I just told Dona recently that I really had no idea when she asked me that if I could do it or not. Now every time she asks me about something new it's always followed by "And you better tell me the truth!" She just needs to trust me more...)
So, as we talk he starts defining what ages belong to which groups. A Boomer is anyone who was born (by his data) before 1965. So then he looks at me and says..."That's your age group, right?"
WHAT?!
"Uhm, excuse me Randy...just how old do you think I am??" Boy, did he start scrambling on that one. Then he informed that there are reasons why he never tries to approach a woman's age without knowing for sure. I told him I thought that was a wise philosophy.
And that he might want to follow it a bit closer.
So, things are going really well here...I now have another project that will probably take up most of the weekend to accomplish and my Vice President thinks I'm at least 8 years older than I actually am.
Yep, it's been a great day...
So at 9 I meander upstairs. Turns out he has to give a presentation to an insurance board in a few weeks about marketing strategies for various age groups. He thinks it would be cool to do a video of three groups...A Baby Boomer, A Generation X'er, and A Generation Y'er. And he wants me to do the video for him.
I've become kind of the video guru over there since the day Dona (my boss) asked me if we could film a message from our CSR's to show at an agent's meeting. I said "Sure, I can do that." Actually, I had no idea if I could do that. (Well, I thought I probably could, so...close enough.) Thankfully I was right, and now they've got me doing these video things all the time. (I just told Dona recently that I really had no idea when she asked me that if I could do it or not. Now every time she asks me about something new it's always followed by "And you better tell me the truth!" She just needs to trust me more...)
So, as we talk he starts defining what ages belong to which groups. A Boomer is anyone who was born (by his data) before 1965. So then he looks at me and says..."That's your age group, right?"
WHAT?!
"Uhm, excuse me Randy...just how old do you think I am??" Boy, did he start scrambling on that one. Then he informed that there are reasons why he never tries to approach a woman's age without knowing for sure. I told him I thought that was a wise philosophy.
And that he might want to follow it a bit closer.
So, things are going really well here...I now have another project that will probably take up most of the weekend to accomplish and my Vice President thinks I'm at least 8 years older than I actually am.
Yep, it's been a great day...
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Bad Times To Do Stupid Things
Have you ever noticed that very often whenever we (meaning anyone qualifying as human) do something really stupid, it's many times at the worst possible moment or under the worst scenarios we could have picked? We call it irony. I think God calls it a good chuckle.
Today I had to take my boss and another manager to the Columbus airport, as they are flying to San Antonio (even as I'm typing this.) Well first, my boss was a bit frazzled this morning. Our opening conversation of the day started with her spewing out something like this..."I-can't-believe-we're-leaving-at-2:00-I'm-not-even-packed-I-don't-even-have-my-suitcase-out-I-have-meetings-all-morning-I-have-a-hair-appt-at-noon-I-need-to-get-baggies-for-the-kids-lunches-and-apples-and-caramel-that-you-can-only-buy-at-Wal-mart....."
OK...this is going to be a long day.
So, I give her the old "Don't worry about a thing, we'll get it all done, it will all be OK" speech (even though I was thinking we'd both probably be dead by noon trying to hold it all together), and then we head off into the day.
Well, we got through all the meetings, then I sent her off to get her hair done and pack and I went to Wal-mart for her. This was my second trip there today. I had previously visited at 7:00 a.m. because I realize halfway to work that I have something stained all over my shirt. So, Wally gets more of my money as I purchase some new duds, and I look at least halfway presentable for the day. Or at least until lunch when I'll probably spill something all over me anyway.
So - I drop off her baggies/apples/caramel at her house, grab a bite to eat, then at 2 load up Rhonda (the manager) in the car and we head out to pick up Dona (the boss). Soon we're all in and down the road we go. Now, I'm driving a company car. Which I hardly ever drive. And this thing has a touchy brake and gas pedal. And the weather is kind of insane today. Honestly...one moment the sun was warm and bright, then suddenly it's hailing. Then it turns to rain. Then the wind about knocks you over. Then it's hailing again. It was bizarre.
So, we're heading down 23 about to pick up 270. I'm not familiar with this route, so I ask Rhonda how close I am to 270. She says "Mmmm - it's right up there. You need to get in the right lane." OK, I'm sitting at a red light with 93 cars beside me in the right lane. There's no way I'm ever going to get over in time to make the exit. So I tell them, "Hold on..I'm going to gun it when this light changes and get in front of those cars." Sounded like a good plan. Too bad I didn't let the car in on it. The light changes, I hit the gas.....And tore like 3 layers of rubber off the tires. Rhonda and Dona both about jump out of their skin. And I must have really caught the other cars off guard, because they didn't even move. No exaggeration....I was probably 300 feet up the road before I saw any of them even start to take off.
Good Grief...how embarrassing.
I have never, ever once "burned rubber" in a car. Not, that is, until I get into a company car with my boss and another manager sitting in it with me.
Now I could say it was because the road was wet. Or possibly because there was a lot of weight in the back with their luggage back there. But actually...Yeah...I think God was just having a good chuckle today.
I will say that fortunately my boss is a pretty laid back lady and she found it rather humorous. Although I know now I will no doubt never hear the end of it. I guess we all have our crosses to bear, huh!
So here's to hoping you all have an "irony-free" day...and if you do have to do something really stupid - that no one else is around to see it!
Today I had to take my boss and another manager to the Columbus airport, as they are flying to San Antonio (even as I'm typing this.) Well first, my boss was a bit frazzled this morning. Our opening conversation of the day started with her spewing out something like this..."I-can't-believe-we're-leaving-at-2:00-I'm-not-even-packed-I-don't-even-have-my-suitcase-out-I-have-meetings-all-morning-I-have-a-hair-appt-at-noon-I-need-to-get-baggies-for-the-kids-lunches-and-apples-and-caramel-that-you-can-only-buy-at-Wal-mart....."
OK...this is going to be a long day.
So, I give her the old "Don't worry about a thing, we'll get it all done, it will all be OK" speech (even though I was thinking we'd both probably be dead by noon trying to hold it all together), and then we head off into the day.
Well, we got through all the meetings, then I sent her off to get her hair done and pack and I went to Wal-mart for her. This was my second trip there today. I had previously visited at 7:00 a.m. because I realize halfway to work that I have something stained all over my shirt. So, Wally gets more of my money as I purchase some new duds, and I look at least halfway presentable for the day. Or at least until lunch when I'll probably spill something all over me anyway.
So - I drop off her baggies/apples/caramel at her house, grab a bite to eat, then at 2 load up Rhonda (the manager) in the car and we head out to pick up Dona (the boss). Soon we're all in and down the road we go. Now, I'm driving a company car. Which I hardly ever drive. And this thing has a touchy brake and gas pedal. And the weather is kind of insane today. Honestly...one moment the sun was warm and bright, then suddenly it's hailing. Then it turns to rain. Then the wind about knocks you over. Then it's hailing again. It was bizarre.
So, we're heading down 23 about to pick up 270. I'm not familiar with this route, so I ask Rhonda how close I am to 270. She says "Mmmm - it's right up there. You need to get in the right lane." OK, I'm sitting at a red light with 93 cars beside me in the right lane. There's no way I'm ever going to get over in time to make the exit. So I tell them, "Hold on..I'm going to gun it when this light changes and get in front of those cars." Sounded like a good plan. Too bad I didn't let the car in on it. The light changes, I hit the gas.....And tore like 3 layers of rubber off the tires. Rhonda and Dona both about jump out of their skin. And I must have really caught the other cars off guard, because they didn't even move. No exaggeration....I was probably 300 feet up the road before I saw any of them even start to take off.
Good Grief...how embarrassing.
I have never, ever once "burned rubber" in a car. Not, that is, until I get into a company car with my boss and another manager sitting in it with me.
Now I could say it was because the road was wet. Or possibly because there was a lot of weight in the back with their luggage back there. But actually...Yeah...I think God was just having a good chuckle today.
I will say that fortunately my boss is a pretty laid back lady and she found it rather humorous. Although I know now I will no doubt never hear the end of it. I guess we all have our crosses to bear, huh!
So here's to hoping you all have an "irony-free" day...and if you do have to do something really stupid - that no one else is around to see it!
Monday, April 20, 2009
Simple Pleasures
First of all...I'm trying a new font tonight because "GOP Gal", aka Hezzo, said mine was hard to read. I think she's been spending too much time talking to a rubber chicken myself, but...
What's on my mind tonight?? Well, I've been noticing lately that the older that I get, the more that simple things just satisfy me. It's kind of odd in a way. I mean, I used to love pizza with the works...so much stuff piled on it that it folds like a cheap tent when you try to hold up a piece. Not so much anymore. I would rather have a slice of regular old pepperoni-cheese any day. And man, just hand me a plain chocolate or vanilla ice cream cone and I'm in heaven. Shoes that don't need buckled or tied are just the grandest thing ever. And clothes I don't have to iron are even better!
I personally like the new ketchup, shampoo and mayo bottles that sit on their lids so it's easier to get all of the goop out of them. (Why didn't they think of that years ago??) And my goodness...how did we ever function without a DVR -- 1 click recording!
I don't know if this is a sign of just being lazy, or just that I'm maturing enough to realize that a lot of times in life...it's about the little things. (I choose to believe the maturing thing... Seriously, how much more mature can you be when finally finding a store that sells Cheetos Asteroids sends you into a happy dance?) Why should we spend so much time complicating everything, when we can spend more time just enjoying the time we have?? It's a question worth contemplating...
Of course there are limitations. One remote that controls 12 appliances can get to be a bit much. And peanut butter and jelly in one jar?? Come on....that's just gross.
Even I have my limits.
What's on my mind tonight?? Well, I've been noticing lately that the older that I get, the more that simple things just satisfy me. It's kind of odd in a way. I mean, I used to love pizza with the works...so much stuff piled on it that it folds like a cheap tent when you try to hold up a piece. Not so much anymore. I would rather have a slice of regular old pepperoni-cheese any day. And man, just hand me a plain chocolate or vanilla ice cream cone and I'm in heaven. Shoes that don't need buckled or tied are just the grandest thing ever. And clothes I don't have to iron are even better!
I personally like the new ketchup, shampoo and mayo bottles that sit on their lids so it's easier to get all of the goop out of them. (Why didn't they think of that years ago??) And my goodness...how did we ever function without a DVR -- 1 click recording!
I don't know if this is a sign of just being lazy, or just that I'm maturing enough to realize that a lot of times in life...it's about the little things. (I choose to believe the maturing thing... Seriously, how much more mature can you be when finally finding a store that sells Cheetos Asteroids sends you into a happy dance?) Why should we spend so much time complicating everything, when we can spend more time just enjoying the time we have?? It's a question worth contemplating...
Of course there are limitations. One remote that controls 12 appliances can get to be a bit much. And peanut butter and jelly in one jar?? Come on....that's just gross.
Even I have my limits.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Thus The Day Starts...
Have you ever noticed how some folks are "morning people" and some are not? That's probably a stupid question, since that is one of the most general categories of being a human being. You either are, or you're not. Therefore, for the official record...I am not.
This is not something I could help necessarily. It's a genetic thing. Mom....not a morning person. Heather....not a morning person. Adam....definitely not a morning person. Dad was. Poor little guy. It would have been nice if at least one of us would have picked up on that gene.
The main reason I'm not a morning person is because I am a night owl. Just can't turn it off in the evenings. So here I am, 1:30 a.m., knowing I have to get out the door by no later than 7:30 in the morning, counting down how much time I have left to sleep. Do you do that? It's really stupid. "OK, if I fall asleep right now, I'll get 5 hours of sleep. That's OK...I can make it on 5 hours..." Then 20 minutes later it's "OK, 4 hours and...what is an hour minus 20...that would be...uhm - shoot, well OK - more than 4 hours still...that's still OK...If I wear that one shirt I won't have to take time to iron it so I can sleep a couple minutes longer....so 4 hours and...OK, I'm OK."
This process continues several different times until I finally scream at myself (sometimes literally) to SHUT UP AND GO TO SLEEP! Finally I drift away to dreamland. Then, due to the fact that 3 hours and whatever minutes was not nearly enough sleep, I wake up at 7:15, and the fun starts.
Stagger to the bathroom and poke a hot iron through my eyes. Oh wait, that's just what the contacts feel like when you've only had 3 hours and whatever minutes of sleep. Can't find the shirt that doesn't need ironed because my eyes are all bleary from where I just poked a hot iron through them. And I apparently used the only other one that I do have clean as a pillow last night because no iron is ever going to get the wrinkles out of it. But I do what I can and head back to the bathroom where the curling iron is heating up, ready to attack the hair. Only then do I realize that I forgot to turn the curling iron on, and a cold curling iron is a help to no one. It's a sad fact of life.
So I yell at it like it's at fault for not being hot, turn it on and brush my teeth while I wait. Now, you know that period of brushing your teeth when the toothpaste has just become foamy but there is still one clump of it that has not disintegrated down yet? Yeah, that's about the time it will slide right off of my teeth and hike down the front of the only clean-though-wrinkled shirt that I have like a little mountain climber.
It's a good thing I don't cuss.
By now the curling iron is as hot as I have time to allow it to get. Since my eyesight has continued to deteriorate from not only the hot poker trauma but also from looking cross-eyed down the front of my shirt while I tried to wipe the toothpaste slime off of it, I grab the brush by the wrong end and burn the tip of my finger off. This finger is nearly 2 inches shorter than all the others from the numerous times this has happened. Again I remind myself that I don't cuss, and attempt to do something to my hair. Which is futile, because the hair is actually fully in charge of what it is going to look like today, and I have no real say in the matter. (Of course, I don't ever really know what it has done until about 12:30 when my eyesight finally gets back to normal.) It's about this time that I hear my Fox and Friends morning news partners announce that the time is now 7:30, and here are today's headlines. GET OUT THE DOOR - YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR WORK!! (OK, they don't actually say that, but I know what they're implying...)
So, with my wet, wrinkled shirt and psychedelic hairdo I head for the door. ................. Where are my shoes? Seriously - how can you lose a pair of shoes?? EVERY MORNING??? Finally I find them underneath the clean shirt that didn't need ironed. Let's go!! ........................ Where are my keys?? Don't cuss, don't cuss, don't cuss.....
OK, got the keys, got the shoes...we're off. Down the stairs, into the car....drat - it frosted last night. Where's the heet in a can? Spray the windows down...of course the wind is blowing so it sprays all over the shirt which is just starting to dry with a big toothpaste slime mark on it...jump in, take off. Wait....where's my office ID tag? GOOOOOOD.....GRIEEEEF.....back upstairs, grab the tag - HERE WE GO!
The car is out of gas......
Well, it gets really ugly at this point, so we'll just leave it here.
I would like to point out though that there is one exception to this little morning dance. That would be Saturdays when I have no where to go or nothing to do. On those days I will wake dutifully at 6:00 a.m., ready to face the world. Thus the reason for writing this blog with the sun blaring in my eyes this morning.
And reminding myself that I don't cuss.
Here's to hoping y'all have a great day today!!
This is not something I could help necessarily. It's a genetic thing. Mom....not a morning person. Heather....not a morning person. Adam....definitely not a morning person. Dad was. Poor little guy. It would have been nice if at least one of us would have picked up on that gene.
The main reason I'm not a morning person is because I am a night owl. Just can't turn it off in the evenings. So here I am, 1:30 a.m., knowing I have to get out the door by no later than 7:30 in the morning, counting down how much time I have left to sleep. Do you do that? It's really stupid. "OK, if I fall asleep right now, I'll get 5 hours of sleep. That's OK...I can make it on 5 hours..." Then 20 minutes later it's "OK, 4 hours and...what is an hour minus 20...that would be...uhm - shoot, well OK - more than 4 hours still...that's still OK...If I wear that one shirt I won't have to take time to iron it so I can sleep a couple minutes longer....so 4 hours and...OK, I'm OK."
This process continues several different times until I finally scream at myself (sometimes literally) to SHUT UP AND GO TO SLEEP! Finally I drift away to dreamland. Then, due to the fact that 3 hours and whatever minutes was not nearly enough sleep, I wake up at 7:15, and the fun starts.
Stagger to the bathroom and poke a hot iron through my eyes. Oh wait, that's just what the contacts feel like when you've only had 3 hours and whatever minutes of sleep. Can't find the shirt that doesn't need ironed because my eyes are all bleary from where I just poked a hot iron through them. And I apparently used the only other one that I do have clean as a pillow last night because no iron is ever going to get the wrinkles out of it. But I do what I can and head back to the bathroom where the curling iron is heating up, ready to attack the hair. Only then do I realize that I forgot to turn the curling iron on, and a cold curling iron is a help to no one. It's a sad fact of life.
So I yell at it like it's at fault for not being hot, turn it on and brush my teeth while I wait. Now, you know that period of brushing your teeth when the toothpaste has just become foamy but there is still one clump of it that has not disintegrated down yet? Yeah, that's about the time it will slide right off of my teeth and hike down the front of the only clean-though-wrinkled shirt that I have like a little mountain climber.
It's a good thing I don't cuss.
By now the curling iron is as hot as I have time to allow it to get. Since my eyesight has continued to deteriorate from not only the hot poker trauma but also from looking cross-eyed down the front of my shirt while I tried to wipe the toothpaste slime off of it, I grab the brush by the wrong end and burn the tip of my finger off. This finger is nearly 2 inches shorter than all the others from the numerous times this has happened. Again I remind myself that I don't cuss, and attempt to do something to my hair. Which is futile, because the hair is actually fully in charge of what it is going to look like today, and I have no real say in the matter. (Of course, I don't ever really know what it has done until about 12:30 when my eyesight finally gets back to normal.) It's about this time that I hear my Fox and Friends morning news partners announce that the time is now 7:30, and here are today's headlines. GET OUT THE DOOR - YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR WORK!! (OK, they don't actually say that, but I know what they're implying...)
So, with my wet, wrinkled shirt and psychedelic hairdo I head for the door. ................. Where are my shoes? Seriously - how can you lose a pair of shoes?? EVERY MORNING??? Finally I find them underneath the clean shirt that didn't need ironed. Let's go!! ........................ Where are my keys?? Don't cuss, don't cuss, don't cuss.....
OK, got the keys, got the shoes...we're off. Down the stairs, into the car....drat - it frosted last night. Where's the heet in a can? Spray the windows down...of course the wind is blowing so it sprays all over the shirt which is just starting to dry with a big toothpaste slime mark on it...jump in, take off. Wait....where's my office ID tag? GOOOOOOD.....GRIEEEEF.....back upstairs, grab the tag - HERE WE GO!
The car is out of gas......
Well, it gets really ugly at this point, so we'll just leave it here.
I would like to point out though that there is one exception to this little morning dance. That would be Saturdays when I have no where to go or nothing to do. On those days I will wake dutifully at 6:00 a.m., ready to face the world. Thus the reason for writing this blog with the sun blaring in my eyes this morning.
And reminding myself that I don't cuss.
Here's to hoping y'all have a great day today!!
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Those Rolling Stones
Well, they're back. The kidney stones have returned. I'm in between bouts of pain right now, so let's see if I can get a blog out here before they attack again.
I had my first kidney stone attack 4 or 5 years ago. I remember I ate a French Dip sub at Arby's one night (that's an important thing to retain in my memory, now isn't it?) and afterward felt like someone was blowing a balloon up inside my stomach, back and chest. (I would not recommend trying that at home, because it is not nearly as much fun as it may sound.) Finally one morning I was at work and couldn't stand it any longer. So I got my coat and went in to tell my boss (who was in a meeting at the time) that I was going to the emergency room. Honestly, you would have thought that I had just walked in the room with both my arms cut off. I guess that is because typically I will not go see the doctor until death is imminent. So I really freaked them out when I announce I was voluntarily heading that way.
My boss grabbed her coat and told me to come on. I kept arguing that I could drive myself until the argument became very unconvincing because I was in so much pain I couldn't breathe anymore. Bless her heart, she drives me all the way to Shelby (about 25-30 minutes) because I refused to go to Bucyrus. We get to the door of the emergency room...and miraculously the pain stops. She very calmly looks at me and informs me that one way or another I am getting out of the car and going in the hospital.
I must say, she's a very convincing lady.
Soon I was getting poked and prodded and diagnosed as a Kidney Stone-ee. Eventually I had to be "blasted" (they shoot a little laser into ya to bust the thing up. Which also is not nearly as fun as it may sound). Oh, and I found out I had a stone also in the OTHER kidney. Not to worry though, according to my doctor they only blast one at a time so in case they damage one you still have a good one to live with. Are you understanding now why I don't go to doctors voluntarily?
So, another year goes by before the second one decides to dislodge from it's little spot in my internal organ. This time it felt like someone had rammed a samurai sword through my back. Which was really nice considering I was on the phone with an agent at the time. Honestly, I have only ever had pain like that once before. (Ever have a nerve explode in your tooth??) So, back to the doctor and blast away again.
Every so often since then I get a little twinge here and there. Today was a bad one. So I'm sucking down water and lemonade to try and flush the little bugger out...which means I'll spend half the night in the bathroom and half the night tossing and turning until I get rid of this thing. So....I hate to end rather abruptly here but I feel the little guy starting up another dance party. Guess it's time to get my groove on and try to move him out!
Until we meet again...
I had my first kidney stone attack 4 or 5 years ago. I remember I ate a French Dip sub at Arby's one night (that's an important thing to retain in my memory, now isn't it?) and afterward felt like someone was blowing a balloon up inside my stomach, back and chest. (I would not recommend trying that at home, because it is not nearly as much fun as it may sound.) Finally one morning I was at work and couldn't stand it any longer. So I got my coat and went in to tell my boss (who was in a meeting at the time) that I was going to the emergency room. Honestly, you would have thought that I had just walked in the room with both my arms cut off. I guess that is because typically I will not go see the doctor until death is imminent. So I really freaked them out when I announce I was voluntarily heading that way.
My boss grabbed her coat and told me to come on. I kept arguing that I could drive myself until the argument became very unconvincing because I was in so much pain I couldn't breathe anymore. Bless her heart, she drives me all the way to Shelby (about 25-30 minutes) because I refused to go to Bucyrus. We get to the door of the emergency room...and miraculously the pain stops. She very calmly looks at me and informs me that one way or another I am getting out of the car and going in the hospital.
I must say, she's a very convincing lady.
Soon I was getting poked and prodded and diagnosed as a Kidney Stone-ee. Eventually I had to be "blasted" (they shoot a little laser into ya to bust the thing up. Which also is not nearly as fun as it may sound). Oh, and I found out I had a stone also in the OTHER kidney. Not to worry though, according to my doctor they only blast one at a time so in case they damage one you still have a good one to live with. Are you understanding now why I don't go to doctors voluntarily?
So, another year goes by before the second one decides to dislodge from it's little spot in my internal organ. This time it felt like someone had rammed a samurai sword through my back. Which was really nice considering I was on the phone with an agent at the time. Honestly, I have only ever had pain like that once before. (Ever have a nerve explode in your tooth??) So, back to the doctor and blast away again.
Every so often since then I get a little twinge here and there. Today was a bad one. So I'm sucking down water and lemonade to try and flush the little bugger out...which means I'll spend half the night in the bathroom and half the night tossing and turning until I get rid of this thing. So....I hate to end rather abruptly here but I feel the little guy starting up another dance party. Guess it's time to get my groove on and try to move him out!
Until we meet again...
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
A Toast To Ingenuity...
I was thinking about great inventions the other day. I don't know why. Oh wait - yes I do...it was because of Mom. She had to go to the store and buy some white-out. Which reminded me of Peter Nesmith's mom. She's the one that invented white-out. Which, then reminded me of the Monkees. You know, that fake singing group from the 60's that somehow got their own TV show. Peter was the one in that group that always wore a toboggan. Which, I must say, I never understood. What was the point? Kind of like the guy in the Mamas and the Papas that always wore that funky fur hat. Musicians can be really weird sometimes. Anyway...then when I thought of the Monkees I started singing "Cheer Up Sleepy Jean" or whatever the name of that song was in my head and nearly went insane the remainder of the day.
I hate when that happens.
But...I digress. Back to inventions. Do you ever stop to consider some of the really cool inventions we have? I mean, think about white-out. It's really awesome stuff. Well, unless you get too much on your page and it gets all clumpy on you. Then you try to wipe it off with your finger and just end up smearing it all over the place, except for that one glob that becomes a craggly little white-out mountain in the middle of your letter and is impossible to write on, but you try anyway and then the tip of your pen get all clogged up and won't write anything else at all after that. All the while you're trying to get the stuff that dried on your finger off but deep down you know that the only way you'll ever get it off your skin is to use a power washer, so you just resign yourself to the fact that you'll never get to finish your smeared up, clumpy letter with your clogged pen...and you'll no doubt die with white-out stained fingers.
Maybe that's bad example to use.
Let's take the remote control instead. Think about it...who in the world was sitting on their couch one day and just decided..."I would like a little box that I can just point at my TV and make the channels change with the press of a button!" All I can venture is...it had to be a couch-potato American. (Probably one of the ones from my last blog who is contributing to the "obesity epidemic" in America.) But just imagine life now without the remote control.
***Shudder***
To prove my point...Have you ever lost your remote? What do you do? Don't lie..I know...you spend 45 minutes tearing everything in the house apart trying to find it, all the while fussing and fuming because you're about to miss the show you really wanted to see while you continue to watch some show about the mating habits of the North American Turtle like a tortured prisoner who can't escape his cell, don't you? Of course in about 3.7 seconds you could have just walked over to the TV and changed the channel manually...but that is not the point! Life is disrupted! We have to find the remote!!! How will we survive without it??!! And then just when you've reached you're final breaking point -- There it is!! Wedged like a piece of pie in the cushion of the couch...or tidily laying in the trash can, just under the used coffee grounds where your child so kindly placed it for you....or on the back of the toilet because you carried into the bathroom when you had to go.........eh, let's not go there. Ahh...all is right with the world again.
So anyway - my point is - never take a great idea for granted. It may just revolutionize YOUR world someday!
(You'll have to forgive me tonight. I didn't get home from work until 9:00, and my mind is about gone. Plus, I just discovered I have white-out all over my finger. So, now I'm going to lay down and try and get some rest. Just as soon as I find the remote to turn off the blasted TV...)
I hate when that happens.
But...I digress. Back to inventions. Do you ever stop to consider some of the really cool inventions we have? I mean, think about white-out. It's really awesome stuff. Well, unless you get too much on your page and it gets all clumpy on you. Then you try to wipe it off with your finger and just end up smearing it all over the place, except for that one glob that becomes a craggly little white-out mountain in the middle of your letter and is impossible to write on, but you try anyway and then the tip of your pen get all clogged up and won't write anything else at all after that. All the while you're trying to get the stuff that dried on your finger off but deep down you know that the only way you'll ever get it off your skin is to use a power washer, so you just resign yourself to the fact that you'll never get to finish your smeared up, clumpy letter with your clogged pen...and you'll no doubt die with white-out stained fingers.
Maybe that's bad example to use.
Let's take the remote control instead. Think about it...who in the world was sitting on their couch one day and just decided..."I would like a little box that I can just point at my TV and make the channels change with the press of a button!" All I can venture is...it had to be a couch-potato American. (Probably one of the ones from my last blog who is contributing to the "obesity epidemic" in America.) But just imagine life now without the remote control.
***Shudder***
To prove my point...Have you ever lost your remote? What do you do? Don't lie..I know...you spend 45 minutes tearing everything in the house apart trying to find it, all the while fussing and fuming because you're about to miss the show you really wanted to see while you continue to watch some show about the mating habits of the North American Turtle like a tortured prisoner who can't escape his cell, don't you? Of course in about 3.7 seconds you could have just walked over to the TV and changed the channel manually...but that is not the point! Life is disrupted! We have to find the remote!!! How will we survive without it??!! And then just when you've reached you're final breaking point -- There it is!! Wedged like a piece of pie in the cushion of the couch...or tidily laying in the trash can, just under the used coffee grounds where your child so kindly placed it for you....or on the back of the toilet because you carried into the bathroom when you had to go.........eh, let's not go there. Ahh...all is right with the world again.
So anyway - my point is - never take a great idea for granted. It may just revolutionize YOUR world someday!
(You'll have to forgive me tonight. I didn't get home from work until 9:00, and my mind is about gone. Plus, I just discovered I have white-out all over my finger. So, now I'm going to lay down and try and get some rest. Just as soon as I find the remote to turn off the blasted TV...)
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Weighty Matters
OK.....I admit it....I am one of those Americans. You know...one of the ones that they show on the evening news from the neck down, walking down the sidewalk or in the mall holding a giant hot dog or ice cream cone in their hand, while the newscaster somberly talks about the "obesity epidemic" in America. (And I must say, if they ever showed me in one of those shots, somebody would be getting their little news station sued!) Yes, I'm overweight....trying to shed some pounds. FUN TIMES, I tell you...FUN TIMES!
I started dieting because our Pastor decided that our church needs to go on a diet. That includes...well, a lot of us. Except Heather. He actually gave her exemption from the pulpit. Apparently it's a new Commandment or something..."Thou shalt all diet except for Heather, who can attend as many pancake breakfasts as she wants and eat until she's ill." Poor thing.
Now, it's no wonder we all need to diet. We eat at every function we have. I'm serious...it's ridiculous. Somebody gets married - let's celebrate and let's eat! Somebody dies - we sorrowfully provide a banquet feast. Have a church meeting....who's volunteering to bring food? Pastor Appreciation? Sure, let's bake him a cake! There's a joke about kids bringing an item of their faith to school for show and tell. The Catholic kid brings his rosary....the Jewish kid brings his yarmulke....and the Baptist kid brings his casserole dish. It would be funny if it weren't actually true!
So, I'm trying to lose weight. I know I need to do it because my health has not been great for a while now. So far, I've done so-so. I think I've lost about 10 pounds. Which is better than nothing. And you'd be amazed at what a difference 10 pounds can make. But weird things happen to your senses when you start trying to diet. For instance, my desk is located close to the break room in our office. I suddenly have an overly keen awareness of every food odor coming from that room anymore. No matter if it's something I hate...something they accidentally burn in the toaster (and they do that all the time)...or something that smells like it died about 3 days ago and sat around for a while before they cooked it....it all smells GOOD! It's like a cat-like sniffing sensory skill has taken over my body. Which kind of scares me.
Also, I suddenly notice that practically every commercial on television has something to do with food. Even the stupid DIET commercials spend the whole time showing FOOD! Who's the idiot that came up with that ad campaign?? Good grief!
And I suddenly want things to eat that I never really wanted before. Yesterday at lunch, you know what I wanted? Chili Cheese Fries. Chili..Cheese..Fries. Who eats that for lunch? I've never had those for lunch. Not a lunch where I have to go back and work in an office for the rest of the day. I mean, do I think I'm at an amusement park or something? Why on earth am I craving Chili Cheese Fries? This does not even make sense to me. My body is trying to sabotage itself!!
So, though the forces of...well, everything...tries to work against me, I keep plodding along...trying to get the weight under control. My doctor has a cartoon up on his wall which so very subtly delivers the hint as a doctor asks his patient: "What is more inconvenient for your busy schedule...exercising 30 minutes a day, or being dead 24 hours a day?"
Hmm...that's something to think about. I'll get back to ya doc, just as soon as this commercial for Popeye's fried chicken goes off....
I started dieting because our Pastor decided that our church needs to go on a diet. That includes...well, a lot of us. Except Heather. He actually gave her exemption from the pulpit. Apparently it's a new Commandment or something..."Thou shalt all diet except for Heather, who can attend as many pancake breakfasts as she wants and eat until she's ill." Poor thing.
Now, it's no wonder we all need to diet. We eat at every function we have. I'm serious...it's ridiculous. Somebody gets married - let's celebrate and let's eat! Somebody dies - we sorrowfully provide a banquet feast. Have a church meeting....who's volunteering to bring food? Pastor Appreciation? Sure, let's bake him a cake! There's a joke about kids bringing an item of their faith to school for show and tell. The Catholic kid brings his rosary....the Jewish kid brings his yarmulke....and the Baptist kid brings his casserole dish. It would be funny if it weren't actually true!
So, I'm trying to lose weight. I know I need to do it because my health has not been great for a while now. So far, I've done so-so. I think I've lost about 10 pounds. Which is better than nothing. And you'd be amazed at what a difference 10 pounds can make. But weird things happen to your senses when you start trying to diet. For instance, my desk is located close to the break room in our office. I suddenly have an overly keen awareness of every food odor coming from that room anymore. No matter if it's something I hate...something they accidentally burn in the toaster (and they do that all the time)...or something that smells like it died about 3 days ago and sat around for a while before they cooked it....it all smells GOOD! It's like a cat-like sniffing sensory skill has taken over my body. Which kind of scares me.
Also, I suddenly notice that practically every commercial on television has something to do with food. Even the stupid DIET commercials spend the whole time showing FOOD! Who's the idiot that came up with that ad campaign?? Good grief!
And I suddenly want things to eat that I never really wanted before. Yesterday at lunch, you know what I wanted? Chili Cheese Fries. Chili..Cheese..Fries. Who eats that for lunch? I've never had those for lunch. Not a lunch where I have to go back and work in an office for the rest of the day. I mean, do I think I'm at an amusement park or something? Why on earth am I craving Chili Cheese Fries? This does not even make sense to me. My body is trying to sabotage itself!!
So, though the forces of...well, everything...tries to work against me, I keep plodding along...trying to get the weight under control. My doctor has a cartoon up on his wall which so very subtly delivers the hint as a doctor asks his patient: "What is more inconvenient for your busy schedule...exercising 30 minutes a day, or being dead 24 hours a day?"
Hmm...that's something to think about. I'll get back to ya doc, just as soon as this commercial for Popeye's fried chicken goes off....
Monday, April 13, 2009
Daffy Ducks
I live in a park. A park that is filled with psychotic ducks.
That's right....
Psychotic Ducks.
I took this photo of some of them a couple of years ago. The white dude there was swimming around biting the feathers off of all the other ducks. The other white one and that grayish one were egging him on.
I tell you, they're pure evil.
Though they apparently don't mind tormenting those of their own kind, they actually live to annoy the humans who come into contact with them. They do this many different ways. Trust me, there is nothing more fun than to come home after an exhausting trip to the grocery store, dreading that you have to now carry 15 bags up 3 flights of stairs.....and as you get out of your car you see the mob approaching. The waddling, quacking mob. Honestly, I could land a job on Dancing With The Stars using the skills I have learned while loading my arms with bags, closing my car doors and trunk - all the while kicking 8-10 ducks out of my backseat and away from my food. Raunchy little things.
Their favorite trick is what I call "slow crossroads". I saw them the other day initiating a new member on their little game plan. I tell you, I could hear them.....quack, quack quack...."The humans come out of that hole over there in that brick thing. Make sure you look very relaxed and lazy laying in the grass. Hey - really fool them - act like you're sleeping. HAHAHA! Then, as they approach that big metal thing on the rubber circles, get up. Slowly now...don't get in a hurry. The metal thing will start to purr...now we kick it up. Get in line behind the others....HAHAHA!!! Here we go - one at a time...single file across the road. HEY - SLOW DOWN! They're starting to look impatient...walk slower! HAHAHA!! OH - they're blowing the horn thing already! We've got them right where we want them! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"
No, I have not lost my mind. I tell you...they do this. I have been awakened at three in the morning by cars blowing their horns frenetically outside my window. So as I groggily look out the window, what do I see? THOSE STUPID DUCKS!!! And there is one, I kid you not, sounds just like he's laughing. Laughing Duck I call him.
I hate Laughing Duck.
So, if someday you hear of someone going on a rampage in Northern Ohio and slaughtering a group of "innocent" ducks......Don't believe a word of it.
They deserved everything they got!
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Easter 2009
Easter is a very special time. We always have a sunrise service at our church, so you have to get up before the crack of dawn. Though I'm usually very tired, I still enjoy doing that at this time of the year. There has never once been an Easter morning that I can remember that the birds weren't singing at the top of their little lungs. I had my window open this morning, and that was the first thing I heard. It makes me think of Dad...he always loved to listen to the birds on Easter Sunday. It also always makes me think that must of been what the first Easter was like...the little birds getting up early to tell the world about a risen Saviour. They've been faithful to the job ever since!
I love seeing the little kids come to Sunrise Service in their jammies because mom and dad probably just drug them out of bed to get there. Though we didn't have any little girls in their curlers this year. (There's usually always at least one!) Sometime after the early service, breakfast and the regular service they then magically transform into frilly little dresses and slick little 3 piece suits. Cute little memories!
We always have a breakfast between the 2 services as well. So I'm usually making my normal sausage cheese English muffins at 5 in the morning. (That's not a pretty sight, but I get it done! Although I'm disappointed that they ate all mine before I get to them this year!) There's typically plenty of food to choose from...more than we need! And with us all supposed to be on diets this year (we have a church weight loss program going) there's a lot of comparisons about who is eating what...although it hardly deters any of us from eating it anyway! Everyone was very diligent about weighing in before breakfast though I noticed!
This year after church we headed home for our traditional meal of ham, potato salad, baked beans, broccoli & rice casserole, deviled eggs and crescent rolls (which were a little black this year, but still edible.) Then Bub had to get ready to head back to Akron, and the rest of us had to find a bed! Aunt Betty had been staying with Diana in Columbus, so she called and told mom she'd like to come spend the night with her. Heather and I head over that way after the evening service to see her and Benjamin (her little dog) for a while. Now it's bedtime and off to another week.
My oh my....where does the time go?!
I love seeing the little kids come to Sunrise Service in their jammies because mom and dad probably just drug them out of bed to get there. Though we didn't have any little girls in their curlers this year. (There's usually always at least one!) Sometime after the early service, breakfast and the regular service they then magically transform into frilly little dresses and slick little 3 piece suits. Cute little memories!
We always have a breakfast between the 2 services as well. So I'm usually making my normal sausage cheese English muffins at 5 in the morning. (That's not a pretty sight, but I get it done! Although I'm disappointed that they ate all mine before I get to them this year!) There's typically plenty of food to choose from...more than we need! And with us all supposed to be on diets this year (we have a church weight loss program going) there's a lot of comparisons about who is eating what...although it hardly deters any of us from eating it anyway! Everyone was very diligent about weighing in before breakfast though I noticed!
This year after church we headed home for our traditional meal of ham, potato salad, baked beans, broccoli & rice casserole, deviled eggs and crescent rolls (which were a little black this year, but still edible.) Then Bub had to get ready to head back to Akron, and the rest of us had to find a bed! Aunt Betty had been staying with Diana in Columbus, so she called and told mom she'd like to come spend the night with her. Heather and I head over that way after the evening service to see her and Benjamin (her little dog) for a while. Now it's bedtime and off to another week.
My oh my....where does the time go?!
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Things You Never Think About...
Yesterday I opened my refrigerator door and nearly had a heart attack. It was completely dark. My first thought was, "Dear Lord, it has died too! After I blogged that it would never die because I don't own it, it went and died!!"
Then, as I was standing there panicking, I hear the motor begin whirring again...and realize...IT'S ALIVE!!! (Felt the urge to pay homage to Frankenstein there) So, anyway..I begin exploring what is wrong with the thing. And then I realize it...the light bulb blew.
Did you realize there's a tiny little light bulb in your refrigerator? I mean, I guess I probably always knew subconsciously that there must be some kind of bulb in it. Otherwise how would a light come on when you opened the door? But I never once opened the door and thought, "Oh good, the little light bulb is still working!" I mean...have you ever thought that? I doubt you have. Even if you tell me that you have. Seriously, who ever gives a thought to a refrigerator light bulb??
So now here I am with a dark refrigerator. I mean, I am in no way prepared for a tiny refrigerator light bulb burn out emergency. How in the world will I ever remember to buy one of those? I can't even remember to pick up a gallon of milk when I run out. (Which reminds me, I forgot to put the milk I just bought away. Don't go anywhere...I'll be right back...)
So, OK - where do you find these tiny refrigerator light bulbs? Now I'll spend hours wandering around the store trying to locate one of these things. And then I'll no doubt buy the wrong size or wattage or whatever and have to go through the huge rigmarole of returning it. But, it has to be done. You have no idea how depressing it is to open your refrigerator door and no light comes on. Especially if it's the middle of the night. I mean...that just ain't right.
It just ain't, I tell ya....
10:20 pm - an update to the tiny refrigerator light dilema....
Now I go back to the fridge, and the light is on.
OH NO....the other electronics have gotten to it!!
I must figure out how to stop the mutiny!!!!!
Then, as I was standing there panicking, I hear the motor begin whirring again...and realize...IT'S ALIVE!!! (Felt the urge to pay homage to Frankenstein there) So, anyway..I begin exploring what is wrong with the thing. And then I realize it...the light bulb blew.
Did you realize there's a tiny little light bulb in your refrigerator? I mean, I guess I probably always knew subconsciously that there must be some kind of bulb in it. Otherwise how would a light come on when you opened the door? But I never once opened the door and thought, "Oh good, the little light bulb is still working!" I mean...have you ever thought that? I doubt you have. Even if you tell me that you have. Seriously, who ever gives a thought to a refrigerator light bulb??
So now here I am with a dark refrigerator. I mean, I am in no way prepared for a tiny refrigerator light bulb burn out emergency. How in the world will I ever remember to buy one of those? I can't even remember to pick up a gallon of milk when I run out. (Which reminds me, I forgot to put the milk I just bought away. Don't go anywhere...I'll be right back...)
So, OK - where do you find these tiny refrigerator light bulbs? Now I'll spend hours wandering around the store trying to locate one of these things. And then I'll no doubt buy the wrong size or wattage or whatever and have to go through the huge rigmarole of returning it. But, it has to be done. You have no idea how depressing it is to open your refrigerator door and no light comes on. Especially if it's the middle of the night. I mean...that just ain't right.
It just ain't, I tell ya....
10:20 pm - an update to the tiny refrigerator light dilema....
Now I go back to the fridge, and the light is on.
OH NO....the other electronics have gotten to it!!
I must figure out how to stop the mutiny!!!!!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Bubby's Home!
Ahh, tonight my little brudder Adam came home from college for Easter. It's good to have him home again. At least, until he starts irritating us to death...
We all went over to Mansfield for a concert this evening. About halfway through he informs us that his stomach is shrinking as he speaks...meaning, he wants us to buy him food. So after the concert we stop at Applebee's to prevent him from dying from starvation before our very eyes. And...Yeah, the rest of us decide we can eat too...
As we eat we chat about past life...when he was young and cute and prone to say the worst possible thing you could think of before you had any chance of even thinking about stopping him. One of the best came out of his little lips when he was probably about 4 or so. We had gone out to Country Buffet to eat one night. At the end of the meal we were doing the usual bathroom break routine. Mom and I took Adam with us. Bad idea.
While Mom was....well, you know....I was washing my hands and Adam was standing by the door. Suddenly some older ladies pushed the door to come in, so Adam very politely grabs hold of it and holds it open for them. With a sweeping motion of his arm he bids them enter, proclaiming a hearty "Welcome Ladies, come on in!" As they ooh and ah over how cute he is and I'm standing there thinking "why is he being so polite all of a sudden??" he goes on to complete his welcoming announcement with another proclamation made at the top of his little lungs....."My Mom's on the Pot!!"
Ah yes.....You gotta love little kids...
(And if you've read Shelley's blog tonight (link below) - how odd that we're all touching on the same general subject. I guess we all need help!)
We all went over to Mansfield for a concert this evening. About halfway through he informs us that his stomach is shrinking as he speaks...meaning, he wants us to buy him food. So after the concert we stop at Applebee's to prevent him from dying from starvation before our very eyes. And...Yeah, the rest of us decide we can eat too...
As we eat we chat about past life...when he was young and cute and prone to say the worst possible thing you could think of before you had any chance of even thinking about stopping him. One of the best came out of his little lips when he was probably about 4 or so. We had gone out to Country Buffet to eat one night. At the end of the meal we were doing the usual bathroom break routine. Mom and I took Adam with us. Bad idea.
While Mom was....well, you know....I was washing my hands and Adam was standing by the door. Suddenly some older ladies pushed the door to come in, so Adam very politely grabs hold of it and holds it open for them. With a sweeping motion of his arm he bids them enter, proclaiming a hearty "Welcome Ladies, come on in!" As they ooh and ah over how cute he is and I'm standing there thinking "why is he being so polite all of a sudden??" he goes on to complete his welcoming announcement with another proclamation made at the top of his little lungs....."My Mom's on the Pot!!"
Ah yes.....You gotta love little kids...
(And if you've read Shelley's blog tonight (link below) - how odd that we're all touching on the same general subject. I guess we all need help!)
Thursday, April 9, 2009
My Family Is Insane
I told them this was what I was going to name my blog tonight. They didn't believe me.
Mom, Heather and I did a night out to see "To Kill A Mockingbird" tonight. We met at Heather's prior to the play...Mom had picked us up subs for supper. As we're eating, we somehow get into a conversation about Heather's rubber chicken. (Please don't ask, I have no idea why...)
Sooo - Anyway....Heather has this rubber chicken, and she's actually named it. Jimmy. A rubber chicken named Jimmy. See, I could almost stop right here and that'd be all you'd need to hear.
But....No, wait...I have the name wrong. It's Little Jimmy. She's very adamant about the "Little" being on there. So we're talking and one of us just calls him "Jimmy" without the Little and she then blurts out..."It's Little Jimmy.....Little Jimmy Chickens!!" I guess this is the first time she ever said his "whole name" out loud (I can't believe my fingers are actually even typing this stuff), and she found it extremely hilarious. So the next thing we hear is:
AAAAAHHHHHHHHH.....HA HA HA HA HA HA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
LITTLE JIMMY CHICKENS!!! HAHAHAHA!!!
You'd think it couldn't get any worse than this, wouldn't you? Well, you'd be wrong. Because this is when I say I'm going to do a blog tonight called "My Family Is Insane" and talk about Little Jimmy Chickens. She then declares to us that we cannot blog about Little Jimmy Chickens because he is her chicken. Apparently we are unaware that our government has been hard at work creating laws to protect poor defenseless rubber chickens from being blogged about unscrupulously. (Although it really wouldn't surprise me to find that's what they've been doing.)
So, tonight I throw caution to the wind and defy the highest laws of this great land and boldly blog about a rubber chicken named Little Jimmy Chickens.
I just don't even know what else to say after that....
Mom, Heather and I did a night out to see "To Kill A Mockingbird" tonight. We met at Heather's prior to the play...Mom had picked us up subs for supper. As we're eating, we somehow get into a conversation about Heather's rubber chicken. (Please don't ask, I have no idea why...)
Sooo - Anyway....Heather has this rubber chicken, and she's actually named it. Jimmy. A rubber chicken named Jimmy. See, I could almost stop right here and that'd be all you'd need to hear.
But....No, wait...I have the name wrong. It's Little Jimmy. She's very adamant about the "Little" being on there. So we're talking and one of us just calls him "Jimmy" without the Little and she then blurts out..."It's Little Jimmy.....Little Jimmy Chickens!!" I guess this is the first time she ever said his "whole name" out loud (I can't believe my fingers are actually even typing this stuff), and she found it extremely hilarious. So the next thing we hear is:
AAAAAHHHHHHHHH.....HA HA HA HA HA HA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
LITTLE JIMMY CHICKENS!!! HAHAHAHA!!!
You'd think it couldn't get any worse than this, wouldn't you? Well, you'd be wrong. Because this is when I say I'm going to do a blog tonight called "My Family Is Insane" and talk about Little Jimmy Chickens. She then declares to us that we cannot blog about Little Jimmy Chickens because he is her chicken. Apparently we are unaware that our government has been hard at work creating laws to protect poor defenseless rubber chickens from being blogged about unscrupulously. (Although it really wouldn't surprise me to find that's what they've been doing.)
So, tonight I throw caution to the wind and defy the highest laws of this great land and boldly blog about a rubber chicken named Little Jimmy Chickens.
I just don't even know what else to say after that....
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
It Takes All Kinds
My blog last night got me to thinking about our vacation last year. I love visiting DC. There's so much to see and do, and so much meaning to nearly everything you see. And you also find all kinds of personalities floating around. Here's a classic moment that still makes me laugh and say "huh?" all at the same time:
We had the privilege of visiting the White House while we were there one day. When you visit the White House, you cannot take anything in with you...no bags, no water, no food...nothing but a cell phone and identification. So, we had parked our van at Union Station and left everything in it until after our visit. After the tour, we came back and had lunch in the most chaotic lunch area in the world (I promise, I'll blog that someday too), then Adam and I went back to the van to get our things. We take the elevator because I had nearly died the day before on the 800 stairs that we had to climb. So we wait and wait and wait for what apparently is the world's slowest elevator ever. Finally, it makes it to our level and opens up.....and there he is - Adam's new buddy.
He was a tall black man, probably around 6'2" or so. Very lanky...not an ounce of fat on him. His skin was very leathery looking, and his hair was brownish-grayish, combed straight back and pretty greasy looking. I have a feeling he wasn't nearly as old as he looked like he was, which was at least 60. He was somewhat cross-eyed, and he wore a lanyard around his neck that said something about Jesus. Yeah, we knew the minute we saw him he was gonna be a character.
So, we get into the elevator and both politely say hello to him and he returns the sentiment. Then he kind of like...stares at Adam for a couple seconds. That was.....awkward. And then one of the most weirdly entertaining conversations I've ever heard starts up:
Lanky Man: Well, either I know you or you know me, so which do you think it is?
Adam (looking thoroughly confused as to how to answer this): Uh...I don't know you man. I don't think we've ever met before.
LM: Well, it must be 'cause you live and work here, right?
Adam: No...we're just here on vacation...we've only been here a couple of days.
LM: OK, so it came from when you got out of the military. Is that right?
Adam: No man...I'm only 19. I've never been in the military.
LM: OK, welcome to the nation's capital city then!
And with that, he was gone. Adam and I just stood and looked at each other for a second, then grinned and moved on ourselves. I mean...really, what else was there to say?!
God Bless Lanky Man, wherever he is now. I hope he caught up with his military buddy eventually!
We had the privilege of visiting the White House while we were there one day. When you visit the White House, you cannot take anything in with you...no bags, no water, no food...nothing but a cell phone and identification. So, we had parked our van at Union Station and left everything in it until after our visit. After the tour, we came back and had lunch in the most chaotic lunch area in the world (I promise, I'll blog that someday too), then Adam and I went back to the van to get our things. We take the elevator because I had nearly died the day before on the 800 stairs that we had to climb. So we wait and wait and wait for what apparently is the world's slowest elevator ever. Finally, it makes it to our level and opens up.....and there he is - Adam's new buddy.
He was a tall black man, probably around 6'2" or so. Very lanky...not an ounce of fat on him. His skin was very leathery looking, and his hair was brownish-grayish, combed straight back and pretty greasy looking. I have a feeling he wasn't nearly as old as he looked like he was, which was at least 60. He was somewhat cross-eyed, and he wore a lanyard around his neck that said something about Jesus. Yeah, we knew the minute we saw him he was gonna be a character.
So, we get into the elevator and both politely say hello to him and he returns the sentiment. Then he kind of like...stares at Adam for a couple seconds. That was.....awkward. And then one of the most weirdly entertaining conversations I've ever heard starts up:
Lanky Man: Well, either I know you or you know me, so which do you think it is?
Adam (looking thoroughly confused as to how to answer this): Uh...I don't know you man. I don't think we've ever met before.
LM: Well, it must be 'cause you live and work here, right?
Adam: No...we're just here on vacation...we've only been here a couple of days.
LM: OK, so it came from when you got out of the military. Is that right?
Adam: No man...I'm only 19. I've never been in the military.
LM: OK, welcome to the nation's capital city then!
And with that, he was gone. Adam and I just stood and looked at each other for a second, then grinned and moved on ourselves. I mean...really, what else was there to say?!
God Bless Lanky Man, wherever he is now. I hope he caught up with his military buddy eventually!
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Fast Food Folly
It's a great American Institution. I don't know where the first one was founded, but it had to have come from the entrepreneurial spirit that has guided pioneers through this great nation for many years...the drive, the passion...the Appetite. Yes, I'm talking about the fabulous entity known as the Fast Food Joint. We took opportunity to visit one last night on our way home from church. After about 20 minutes in line for our "fast food" (yes, that is noted with sarcasm) we started reminiscing about some of our favorite fast food moments. Honestly, it's a wonder some of these places stay in business.
Last year we were in DC for vacation. Heading back to our house one night we decided to make a run for the border and visit The Bell. We were hungry. Very Hungry. We sat in line about, oh...20 minutes again and finally made it up to the little speakerbox. Heather was driving so she shouts in the first order - "I want a number one combo with a Mou..." That's all she got out when the voice in the little speakerbox blares out - "I'm sorry, we don't have any combo meals tonight."
WHAT?!?
That's exactly what Heather said. "WHAT?" "Yeah," retorts the little box, "we don't have any combo meals." So Heather asks the next logical question.."Can we order just a burrito and taco separately." "Sure" responds the little box. I think we've fallen into the twilight zone. What kind of nutso conversation is this?? So Heather says, "OooKKk....give me a burrito, taco and Mountain Dew." "Uhm...", the little box revs up again..."We don't have any ice either." Seriously...I mean, for the love of pete. So - we make a collective family decision to ditch the bell and head on down the road. Easier said than done. It's one of those drive-thrus where you're trapped in line until the idiots in front of you who apparently ordered $457 worth of individual tacos (remember, no combo meals) get their order first. We were glad to think back "inside the bun" and chomp on nuggets from Wendys!
Up until that time the stupidest comment I ever heard at a FFJ came from the King's palace itself...Burger King. It's crucial you remember the name of this place. Burger King. Heather and I walk up the counter and get ready to give our order when the guy waiting on us says.."Before you order, you might want to know...we don't have any meat tonight." And then he just stands there like that was the most natural thing in the world to have told us. Heather and I look at each other rather quizzically, and finally I say to him "no meat?" And He calmly responds "no meat." I said "uhm...isn't this (everyone say it with me) Burger King?" He said "Yeah...kind of ironic, isn't it?" So I say.."OK, that's weird. But, we really just wanted onion rings anyway." To which he replies "Oh, I should have told you...we're out of onion rings too." Why of course...we absolutely should have seen that one coming. So, we end up just ordering drinks and dreaming about eating actual food.
I guess we should have been grateful that at least they had ice...
Last year we were in DC for vacation. Heading back to our house one night we decided to make a run for the border and visit The Bell. We were hungry. Very Hungry. We sat in line about, oh...20 minutes again and finally made it up to the little speakerbox. Heather was driving so she shouts in the first order - "I want a number one combo with a Mou..." That's all she got out when the voice in the little speakerbox blares out - "I'm sorry, we don't have any combo meals tonight."
WHAT?!?
That's exactly what Heather said. "WHAT?" "Yeah," retorts the little box, "we don't have any combo meals." So Heather asks the next logical question.."Can we order just a burrito and taco separately." "Sure" responds the little box. I think we've fallen into the twilight zone. What kind of nutso conversation is this?? So Heather says, "OooKKk....give me a burrito, taco and Mountain Dew." "Uhm...", the little box revs up again..."We don't have any ice either." Seriously...I mean, for the love of pete. So - we make a collective family decision to ditch the bell and head on down the road. Easier said than done. It's one of those drive-thrus where you're trapped in line until the idiots in front of you who apparently ordered $457 worth of individual tacos (remember, no combo meals) get their order first. We were glad to think back "inside the bun" and chomp on nuggets from Wendys!
Up until that time the stupidest comment I ever heard at a FFJ came from the King's palace itself...Burger King. It's crucial you remember the name of this place. Burger King. Heather and I walk up the counter and get ready to give our order when the guy waiting on us says.."Before you order, you might want to know...we don't have any meat tonight." And then he just stands there like that was the most natural thing in the world to have told us. Heather and I look at each other rather quizzically, and finally I say to him "no meat?" And He calmly responds "no meat." I said "uhm...isn't this (everyone say it with me) Burger King?" He said "Yeah...kind of ironic, isn't it?" So I say.."OK, that's weird. But, we really just wanted onion rings anyway." To which he replies "Oh, I should have told you...we're out of onion rings too." Why of course...we absolutely should have seen that one coming. So, we end up just ordering drinks and dreaming about eating actual food.
I guess we should have been grateful that at least they had ice...
Monday, April 6, 2009
Procrastination....
Today is April 6th. I have 2 things to say about that. First, I think it's utterly ridiculous that I just drove home in a hail storm blizzard. I'm not kidding, I almost had to stop once because I couldn't even see the road. And I still have little snow ice balls falling out of my hair where I got covered up trying to get into the apartment. Cursed Ohio weather!!
The second thing I have to say about that is...I have to do my taxes.
I don't know why I procrastinate doing my taxes. I do it nearly every year. It's not that I have to pay...I actually get a refund. And it's not that it's difficult...I can do my own on one of those computer tax program things. I just put it off. Then here I am, 9 days before the deadline blogging about having to do my taxes. Perhaps it's because I just spend all day doing paperwork and can't stand the thoughts of doing anything else like that again when I get home. Or perhaps I feel that I'm spreading out a monetary windfall by delaying the reception of my money.
But, more than likely, it's just because I'm a procrastinator.
Actually, I sell myself a little short. I have always had procrastinatory (leave it alone, it's a new word I just made up!) tendencies. But I have gotten better over the last little bit. I find when you're not so run down that you really don't care if you even lay down in the middle of a highway to take a nap, you can get a lot more done in life. And I have been feeling some better. So I have been getting a bit more done lately. And it feels good to get it done. But there are still those moments. And for some reason, they usually involve my taxes. And laundry. But that's another story... :)
So...I guess I better get to moving before Uncle Sam comes tracking me down.
Of course, by now it's nearly 11:00 and I'm extremely tired.
So....Maybe I'll just wait until tomorrow. There's still plenty of time....
The second thing I have to say about that is...I have to do my taxes.
I don't know why I procrastinate doing my taxes. I do it nearly every year. It's not that I have to pay...I actually get a refund. And it's not that it's difficult...I can do my own on one of those computer tax program things. I just put it off. Then here I am, 9 days before the deadline blogging about having to do my taxes. Perhaps it's because I just spend all day doing paperwork and can't stand the thoughts of doing anything else like that again when I get home. Or perhaps I feel that I'm spreading out a monetary windfall by delaying the reception of my money.
But, more than likely, it's just because I'm a procrastinator.
Actually, I sell myself a little short. I have always had procrastinatory (leave it alone, it's a new word I just made up!) tendencies. But I have gotten better over the last little bit. I find when you're not so run down that you really don't care if you even lay down in the middle of a highway to take a nap, you can get a lot more done in life. And I have been feeling some better. So I have been getting a bit more done lately. And it feels good to get it done. But there are still those moments. And for some reason, they usually involve my taxes. And laundry. But that's another story... :)
So...I guess I better get to moving before Uncle Sam comes tracking me down.
Of course, by now it's nearly 11:00 and I'm extremely tired.
So....Maybe I'll just wait until tomorrow. There's still plenty of time....
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Another Week Down...
Having a little "blog block" tonight...can't really settle on anything in particular to write about. Got a wild week ahead...have to go play for 2 singing groups Monday and Tuesday at a revival in Mansfield, our church Wednesday, Thursday Mom, Heather and I are going to see "To Kill A Mockingbird" (can't wait!), not sure about Friday but may go to a concert, Saturday is Shelby's Track Invitational (may go down a while) and our church Easter Egg hunt, then Sunday is Sunrise Service, Breakfast, Sunday School, Church, dinner, then Church again.
WHEW!! I'm tired just talking about it!
We do get to reunite with our little bubby (he loves it when I call him that!) Adam Friday as he is home for Easter. Then it will just be 3 more weeks and he will be done with his first year of college! That is unbelievable to me!! It seems like just yesterday he was about 4 years old running around the house driving us all crazy and making us laugh all at the same time. Man...time moves too fast...
Well, I know it wasn't very exciting tonight, but thus ends another blog. Tomorrow is another day....
WHEW!! I'm tired just talking about it!
We do get to reunite with our little bubby (he loves it when I call him that!) Adam Friday as he is home for Easter. Then it will just be 3 more weeks and he will be done with his first year of college! That is unbelievable to me!! It seems like just yesterday he was about 4 years old running around the house driving us all crazy and making us laugh all at the same time. Man...time moves too fast...
Well, I know it wasn't very exciting tonight, but thus ends another blog. Tomorrow is another day....
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Lazy Day
I was a slug today.
I didn't mean to be...the day started out really good actually. Got up about 8:30 and took a bath, started straightening up the apt. Was feeling good until about 11:00. Then I felt it starting...
The Crash.
I just do that sometimes. It's like my body says "I've gone as hard as I can go for as long as I can, so I'm stopping now. You do what you want, but I am not going with you." I really have no control at that point. It hadn't been as bad since the doctor put me on the blood pressure meds, but apparently even that has its limitations. And this weather (which is freezing up here right now) is sending my sinuses into fits. Thank God for Sinex...
So I slept like...a lot today. I attempted to get in some physical activity by pulling up one of our on-demand channels and watching an exercise show. Watching. From the couch. I mean, I couldn't even make myself sit up. How sad is that when you're just laying on the couch watching other people exercise. I'm sure I burned many calories like that!
So...since I slept all day, I will probably not sleep well tonight, and the whole sleep/function cycle is all messed up. But then again, maybe I won't have as much trouble as I think. This blogging thing tonight is wearing me out.
I think maybe I need just a short nap...
I didn't mean to be...the day started out really good actually. Got up about 8:30 and took a bath, started straightening up the apt. Was feeling good until about 11:00. Then I felt it starting...
The Crash.
I just do that sometimes. It's like my body says "I've gone as hard as I can go for as long as I can, so I'm stopping now. You do what you want, but I am not going with you." I really have no control at that point. It hadn't been as bad since the doctor put me on the blood pressure meds, but apparently even that has its limitations. And this weather (which is freezing up here right now) is sending my sinuses into fits. Thank God for Sinex...
So I slept like...a lot today. I attempted to get in some physical activity by pulling up one of our on-demand channels and watching an exercise show. Watching. From the couch. I mean, I couldn't even make myself sit up. How sad is that when you're just laying on the couch watching other people exercise. I'm sure I burned many calories like that!
So...since I slept all day, I will probably not sleep well tonight, and the whole sleep/function cycle is all messed up. But then again, maybe I won't have as much trouble as I think. This blogging thing tonight is wearing me out.
I think maybe I need just a short nap...
Friday, April 3, 2009
Fun at WallyWorld
Tonight Mom and I went on our weekly Friday night outing to Mansfield for eating and shopping. Heather usually goes with us, but she wimped out and stayed home tonight, no doubt laying on the couch watching NCIS and gorging on frozen seedless grapes. So Moomaw and I set out for the Sam Walton Tour of Sam's Club and Walmart. And I tell you, if you can survive a night of traipsing through both of those stores, you are made of stout stuff!
We first prepare ourselves with a hearty Quizno's sub. (Ah...Turkey, Bacon & Guacamole...you are heaven sent...) Then off to the ultimate warehouse extraordinaire! I mean, who can pass up a 500 count bottle of daily vitamins, or a 12 pound box of Fiber One bars?? (Do you have any idea what that many Fiber One bars could do to your digestive system??!) Mom eyes the flat screen TV's...she has been bitten by the bug, I think! (Hezzo and Adam got one for Christmas, and I got one in the great machine mutiny of previous days, as detailed in a former blog...) However, she resists. (A strong woman, she is!) We leave there with considerably less money than when we walked through the doors.
Next, on to the abysmal pit that is Walmart. It is a masochist's dream, really. I find it truly amazing that you can pass 37 aisles with no one in them, but as you reach the one with the item you absolutely have to have you suddenly are thronged by 68 people, all with carts and all just standing and staring at the selection in front of them. Well, all except for the 15 who are standing there talking to someone else and blocking any possible hole that there may be to get through the aisle. It takes a great deal of strategic planning to navigate such an obstacle course. Trust me, it is not for the faint of heart!
Now, between Sam & Wally's we have walked about 36 miles tonight. And we're only halfway through Wally's. We are weary...we are tired....we seek but just a spot of rest. But we continue on, bravely facing each ensuing enemy with fortitude of heart. There's the screaming child, who's shrill little voice has the ability to shatter even the healthiest of eardrums...the go-cart-shopping-cart-driver who does not know how to drive the go-cart-shopping-cart, therefore keeping you jumping at every turn in fear of being run over by the wanna-be Mario Andretti...the gang of LOUD people who seem to follow you wherever you go, even when you zig-zag your normal shopping patterns in an attempt to lose them. **Sigh**
Finally we make it to the front of the store. This is known as the land of "wait in line forever". (OK, I'll give them this, tonight they did pretty good. But it's usually not that way!) After handing over whatever money you may have left after Sam's dug into your pocketbook, you are finally free!! Well, that is, if you can make it past those giant security thingies that start screaming if you have anything in a bag that has the least little bit of label showing on it. After being searched and interrogated, you are released. As the doors open miraculously in front of you, you are filled with glee...Home, here we come!!!
If only we could remember where we parked the car....
We first prepare ourselves with a hearty Quizno's sub. (Ah...Turkey, Bacon & Guacamole...you are heaven sent...) Then off to the ultimate warehouse extraordinaire! I mean, who can pass up a 500 count bottle of daily vitamins, or a 12 pound box of Fiber One bars?? (Do you have any idea what that many Fiber One bars could do to your digestive system??!) Mom eyes the flat screen TV's...she has been bitten by the bug, I think! (Hezzo and Adam got one for Christmas, and I got one in the great machine mutiny of previous days, as detailed in a former blog...) However, she resists. (A strong woman, she is!) We leave there with considerably less money than when we walked through the doors.
Next, on to the abysmal pit that is Walmart. It is a masochist's dream, really. I find it truly amazing that you can pass 37 aisles with no one in them, but as you reach the one with the item you absolutely have to have you suddenly are thronged by 68 people, all with carts and all just standing and staring at the selection in front of them. Well, all except for the 15 who are standing there talking to someone else and blocking any possible hole that there may be to get through the aisle. It takes a great deal of strategic planning to navigate such an obstacle course. Trust me, it is not for the faint of heart!
Now, between Sam & Wally's we have walked about 36 miles tonight. And we're only halfway through Wally's. We are weary...we are tired....we seek but just a spot of rest. But we continue on, bravely facing each ensuing enemy with fortitude of heart. There's the screaming child, who's shrill little voice has the ability to shatter even the healthiest of eardrums...the go-cart-shopping-cart-driver who does not know how to drive the go-cart-shopping-cart, therefore keeping you jumping at every turn in fear of being run over by the wanna-be Mario Andretti...the gang of LOUD people who seem to follow you wherever you go, even when you zig-zag your normal shopping patterns in an attempt to lose them. **Sigh**
Finally we make it to the front of the store. This is known as the land of "wait in line forever". (OK, I'll give them this, tonight they did pretty good. But it's usually not that way!) After handing over whatever money you may have left after Sam's dug into your pocketbook, you are finally free!! Well, that is, if you can make it past those giant security thingies that start screaming if you have anything in a bag that has the least little bit of label showing on it. After being searched and interrogated, you are released. As the doors open miraculously in front of you, you are filled with glee...Home, here we come!!!
If only we could remember where we parked the car....
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Things I've Learned
Mr. Dave Barry (who is a hilarious columnist and author, in case you don't know who he is) wrote an article several years ago entitled "25 Things I Learned in 50 Years". It is awesome...you should Google it if you've never seen it. It's full of little "wit"-isms of life's truths, such as "A person who is nice to you but rude to the waiter is not a nice person.", and "When trouble arises and things look bad, there is always one individual who perceives a solution and is willing to take command. Very often, that individual is crazy." Obviously, this guy has been paying attention in life!
I think when you get right down to it, we all have our own "lessons learned" list that we have acquired through life. Here's a few of my own...
I think when you get right down to it, we all have our own "lessons learned" list that we have acquired through life. Here's a few of my own...
- Never walk through a pouring rainstorm with your purse unzipped.
- If you have really enjoyed the restaurant's meal, you're probably better off not knowing what the kitchen or the chef looks like.
- Household electronics secretly know how to talk to one another, and can coordinate slow deaths in order to break their owners financially and mentally. (see previous blog entry)
- The best way to have a spontaneous, unexpected day is to plan it to the most minute detail.
- When a doctor says "this will just cause a mild discomfort", don't believe them.
- No matter how long you ignore that weird screeching noise coming from your car...it will not get better on its own.
- If you suddenly smell a horrific odor eminating from the group of three year olds you teach in Sunday School, find the one that refuses to sit down. Then take them to their parents. Immediately.
- Whoever came up with the term "Reality Television" apparently has never lived in the Real World.
- Don't take offence when a six year old asks you if you used to be skinny. They just call it like they see it.
- Intelligence is not always a way to measure how smart someone is. Nor is lack of formal education a way to measure how dumb someone is.
- Life is too short to worry and fret over things that don't really matter.
- Life is too long to worry and fret over things that don't really matter.
- Never pass up the chance to make one of your co-workers look really good.
- When someone you love is driving you crazy, just envision the day that they are no longer there....then enjoy your time together.
Until we meet again....
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
The Blogging Bunch (sing along, everyone!)
It's a story
Of a chick named Shelley
Who started up her very own blog space
Then she told her fam in Shelby all about it
Said "check out my new place!"
So the family
Up in Ohio
Decided to all join in on the fun
So they started Drama, Memories, Lollygagging
Yes, started one by one!
So now all the Aunts and cousins blog together
And enjoy it even more than eating lunch!
Now they tell their daily tales through mini-stories
This is the way they all became The Blogging Bunch!
The Blogging Bunch!
The Blogging Bunch!
It's the waaay...they became the Blogging Bunch!!!
This composition is dedicated to my loving cuzin Shelley, who started us all down the blogging road.
Of a chick named Shelley
Who started up her very own blog space
Then she told her fam in Shelby all about it
Said "check out my new place!"
So the family
Up in Ohio
Decided to all join in on the fun
So they started Drama, Memories, Lollygagging
Yes, started one by one!
So now all the Aunts and cousins blog together
And enjoy it even more than eating lunch!
Now they tell their daily tales through mini-stories
This is the way they all became The Blogging Bunch!
The Blogging Bunch!
The Blogging Bunch!
It's the waaay...they became the Blogging Bunch!!!
This composition is dedicated to my loving cuzin Shelley, who started us all down the blogging road.
And to Mom, because I can't believe she actually is blogging on her own!
And to Hezzo, because I know her favorite secret show is REALLY The Brady Bunch!!!!
:)
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