Last night I took my daughter to her school for the "extreme math" event. Some of you may ask why someone as... "challenged" at math as I am should be the one to take her, especially since I am literally married to a rocket scientist. To those people I say - I KNOW, DAMMIT!
But my husband was busy, my daughter was desperate, and mommy was just exhausted enough to be suckered into it, thinking it sounded like a good idea. "Take your FEMALE child to an extreme math event. It's fun! It'll be supportive of women in math! Be a part of the community! Mommy-daughter fun fun fun!"
I should have really paid attention to that "community" part. Or at least remembered that MY community doesn't LIKE me. Interestingly enough though, I was completely alienated by 95% new people!
Having never been to a math event (because usually you would have to have something sinister over me, like holding my chocolate hostage in order to make that happen) there was a whole new crowd of people I had never laid eyes on before. Oddly, they were all short too. I had a good 3-4 inches over the tallest person there. Are people shrinking or something? But on the upside, not a Stepford Wife in sight. I figured all would be well at that point.
Instead, I spent the entire evening in the corner. I tried talking to people, they didn't want to talk to me. I literally walked over to stand with a group of parents (the only one in the room) and they moved to the other side of the room. Now, since these are all new people it all comes down to the fact that they're all FROM Vermont, and I'm an outsider. They have no idea who I am, while these people know each other's families more than six generations back. It's the "flatlander" prejudice that is so prevalent out here.
There was one person who was there that I did know (and quite frankly, she is the biggest witch I have met out here thus far.) I was really disappointed to see that she was there, and she welcomed me with a "Wow, decided to participate in your daughter's life for once, eh? Well, welcome..."
I tamped down the urge to smash her little smug face in and said "Well, when you are balancing family, career, and college at once, it's always a pleasure to be able to do something like this in addition to what we do on our own." After that, I just ignored her. She tried to order me to do a few things (she works at the school - office staff of some sort) but I declined.
I had just finished watching one of my favorite movies, Practical Magic, and I was able to entertain myself by imagining I had the power to cause frogs to jump out of her ears. Unfortunately, the only power I have is the ability to trip over anything - even invisible things. So this did little more than make me smile, which seemed to make everyone even more nervous. Of course, at that point, I was enjoying that side effect too. Vicious circle, I am thinking.
OK, onto the er...fun stuff. One of the games they played (that I stunk at) was KRYPTO. Have you all played this? It was on the blackboard and people were racing each other to find the solution. Here is a link to an online version you can play with : KRYPTO
Basically, 5 random numbers are given to you, and one answer. You must use ALL 5 numbers. You can only use a number once. You can use division, multiplication, subtraction and addition in any combination to get there to the answer.
It made my head hurt.
We brought it home to Mr. Savy who whipped through all of them at an amazing speed. The show-off. Unfortunately, it is a little addicting - because you want to solve the stupid problems. You can't leave one undone behind you, unless you want to be preoccupied for the next day with it.
I think it may be a conspiracy to cause all of us silly people to become distracted while cats take over the world.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Broken Odds and Weird Ends
What happens to a person's brain cells when outside it continually remains colder than a polar bear's arctic butt for too long? They ice over and end up doing stupid things like...
I don't know what to tell you. A friend pointed out the online Disney sale (you can't see it, but there are mickey mouses all over the sweater) and all was lost. The cat was highly amused.
Cosmo (the little dog) just puts up with it. I think it's cold enough that he can grudgingly see the value in a sweater. Max, on the other hand, is inordinately proud of his sweater. He almost knocked my husband over trying to get into it, and absolutely loves it.
And the really frightening thing? They had the same types of sweaters for the kids too. Yes, I bought those as well. Don't ask, I don't know why. It seemed like a cute idea at the time.
No, I was not drinking.
So that was my weird, now on to my broken. Broken: me.
Something is really wrong with me. Both of my knees, for the past couple of months now, have been making a slight popping/clicking sound whenever they bend. This includes bending just enough to go down the stairs (but not up? Maybe this qualifies as weird too.) You can imagine my joy when I discovered this surrounded by a bunch of 18 year olds in the college and someone said "what's that clicking noise?" as we were all going down the stairs.
I feigned ignorance.
Still, it didn't hurt or anything, it was just annoying. A little disturbing, maybe, but not a big deal. Well, that all changed over this weekend and yesterday. Over the weekend, I noticed it started to hurt just a tiny bit. I figured it was an aberration and ignored it. However, by yesterday afternoon I actually contemplated taking the elevator down the three floors from my last class rather than take the stairs because it was so painful. I didn't, because I'm stubborn like that, but I was almost in tears by the time I got to the bottom.
Last night both knees were swollen and painful. I threw on a knee brace (leftover from my marathon days) and popped some Advil. I just can't figure this out. I tried looking it up, but the best thing that suited the symptoms was arthritis. Now, of course there is the possibility - but I know for a FACT that my doctors will not even consider the idea that someone my age has arthritis (I'm too old for college, but not old enough for my doctor - people are so hard to please!)
So, does anyone have any spare knee-oil? Maybe I should just go out and get some WD-40. I'm supposed to go for a run today, but I'm going to switch it to my bike. Hopefully that won't make things worse.
I've turned into an old lady. I'm creaking, popping, breaking, and dressing up my pets. This must be a sign of the Apocalypse.
Buying matching sweaters for their dogs.
I don't know what to tell you. A friend pointed out the online Disney sale (you can't see it, but there are mickey mouses all over the sweater) and all was lost. The cat was highly amused.
Cosmo (the little dog) just puts up with it. I think it's cold enough that he can grudgingly see the value in a sweater. Max, on the other hand, is inordinately proud of his sweater. He almost knocked my husband over trying to get into it, and absolutely loves it.
And the really frightening thing? They had the same types of sweaters for the kids too. Yes, I bought those as well. Don't ask, I don't know why. It seemed like a cute idea at the time.
No, I was not drinking.
So that was my weird, now on to my broken. Broken: me.
Something is really wrong with me. Both of my knees, for the past couple of months now, have been making a slight popping/clicking sound whenever they bend. This includes bending just enough to go down the stairs (but not up? Maybe this qualifies as weird too.) You can imagine my joy when I discovered this surrounded by a bunch of 18 year olds in the college and someone said "what's that clicking noise?" as we were all going down the stairs.
I feigned ignorance.
Still, it didn't hurt or anything, it was just annoying. A little disturbing, maybe, but not a big deal. Well, that all changed over this weekend and yesterday. Over the weekend, I noticed it started to hurt just a tiny bit. I figured it was an aberration and ignored it. However, by yesterday afternoon I actually contemplated taking the elevator down the three floors from my last class rather than take the stairs because it was so painful. I didn't, because I'm stubborn like that, but I was almost in tears by the time I got to the bottom.
Last night both knees were swollen and painful. I threw on a knee brace (leftover from my marathon days) and popped some Advil. I just can't figure this out. I tried looking it up, but the best thing that suited the symptoms was arthritis. Now, of course there is the possibility - but I know for a FACT that my doctors will not even consider the idea that someone my age has arthritis (I'm too old for college, but not old enough for my doctor - people are so hard to please!)
So, does anyone have any spare knee-oil? Maybe I should just go out and get some WD-40. I'm supposed to go for a run today, but I'm going to switch it to my bike. Hopefully that won't make things worse.
I've turned into an old lady. I'm creaking, popping, breaking, and dressing up my pets. This must be a sign of the Apocalypse.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Paranoia Pizza
I have a feeling that one of my classes isn't going to bode well for my mental security. Each week, in addition to the massive papers we have to write, we also have to research a certain law and cases related to that law... and write a second massive paper. (OK, I saw at least four of you doze off - WAKE UP!)
Last week it was sexual harassment and discrimination. You should all send me little thank you cards (with chocolate) for not posting about that one. I'm sure it would have caused a fantastic blog backlash and debate. But this week, I just couldn't resist. Actually, I'm not even going to post about the law in particular (whistle blowers), but the site I stumbled across instead.
Irresponsible woman that I am, I have never been to the ACLU's site before. (Never really had the desire to. I know they exist and all, wasn't that enough?) But one of the hits on my search brought me to their site and a weird page...
You just have to listen/see this : http://www.aclu.org/pizza/
By the end of the video/audio thing, after the laughter subsided, I had the urge to start ranting about big brother and check my houseplants for cameras. Oh alright, not really. I'm not quite that paranoid, or egotistical (you really have to think you're pretty cool to envision multitudes of people interested in what soap you use, or what you actually sing in the shower. Fortunately, I am fully aware of my innate dullness. Which is why I blog!)
It's just so easy to envision people invading your personal space and using your personal information for sinister pizza purposes, isn't it? Even I, the country bumpkin of upper New England, where there are more cows than people, more chickens than cars, more moose than republicans, I too have had the weird experience of calling a restaurant and them knowing exactly who I was and what I was likely to order.
Though, none of them knew my dress size. Of course, neither does anyone else, as I have systematically erased their memories. Why, it could have been one of you! Do you know my dress size? No? Are you sure? The plot thickens...
It's just so easy to envision a world where something like that pizza incident could actually occur. There are benefits, of course - for example, if kids were microchipped (one step beyond the whole pizza thing) parents would always know exactly where they were. Kidnappings would be cut drastically. Kids would never be able to lie their way out of missing curfew. Parents with shotguns could track down their daughters dating bad boys and make a serious impression (your dot was WAY too close to my daughter's dot on the GPS display, you little delinquent!)
So, I see some benefits. But I see a lot of drawbacks too, not to mention a whole cartload of personal embarrassment. Due to the nature of things about myself that should never be known in any public sphere, I find that I rest on the side of not wanting anyone watching my every move. Call me old fashioned. (Show me a wo/man who has nothing to hide, and I'll show you a broke nudist!)
However, I think some places are already engaging in a lot of this "big brother" type of stuff. After all, how on earth does UPS or FedEx manage to show up every time I am sans clothing? Or how about the huge toilet seat conspiracy? Every time you sit down on it, the phone rings (and it's usually a telemarketer.) This particularly sinister phone plot is much wider spread than the UPS/FedEx plot. I think I must be part of a test group, or something. (Sort of like combat training for the delivery guys, can they survive the ordeal?) I wonder what is next.
Well, I suppose I had better get back to my paper... and maybe check my houseplants.
Last week it was sexual harassment and discrimination. You should all send me little thank you cards (with chocolate) for not posting about that one. I'm sure it would have caused a fantastic blog backlash and debate. But this week, I just couldn't resist. Actually, I'm not even going to post about the law in particular (whistle blowers), but the site I stumbled across instead.
Irresponsible woman that I am, I have never been to the ACLU's site before. (Never really had the desire to. I know they exist and all, wasn't that enough?) But one of the hits on my search brought me to their site and a weird page...
You just have to listen/see this : http://www.aclu.org/pizza/
By the end of the video/audio thing, after the laughter subsided, I had the urge to start ranting about big brother and check my houseplants for cameras. Oh alright, not really. I'm not quite that paranoid, or egotistical (you really have to think you're pretty cool to envision multitudes of people interested in what soap you use, or what you actually sing in the shower. Fortunately, I am fully aware of my innate dullness. Which is why I blog!)
It's just so easy to envision people invading your personal space and using your personal information for sinister pizza purposes, isn't it? Even I, the country bumpkin of upper New England, where there are more cows than people, more chickens than cars, more moose than republicans, I too have had the weird experience of calling a restaurant and them knowing exactly who I was and what I was likely to order.
Though, none of them knew my dress size. Of course, neither does anyone else, as I have systematically erased their memories. Why, it could have been one of you! Do you know my dress size? No? Are you sure? The plot thickens...
It's just so easy to envision a world where something like that pizza incident could actually occur. There are benefits, of course - for example, if kids were microchipped (one step beyond the whole pizza thing) parents would always know exactly where they were. Kidnappings would be cut drastically. Kids would never be able to lie their way out of missing curfew. Parents with shotguns could track down their daughters dating bad boys and make a serious impression (your dot was WAY too close to my daughter's dot on the GPS display, you little delinquent!)
So, I see some benefits. But I see a lot of drawbacks too, not to mention a whole cartload of personal embarrassment. Due to the nature of things about myself that should never be known in any public sphere, I find that I rest on the side of not wanting anyone watching my every move. Call me old fashioned. (Show me a wo/man who has nothing to hide, and I'll show you a broke nudist!)
However, I think some places are already engaging in a lot of this "big brother" type of stuff. After all, how on earth does UPS or FedEx manage to show up every time I am sans clothing? Or how about the huge toilet seat conspiracy? Every time you sit down on it, the phone rings (and it's usually a telemarketer.) This particularly sinister phone plot is much wider spread than the UPS/FedEx plot. I think I must be part of a test group, or something. (Sort of like combat training for the delivery guys, can they survive the ordeal?) I wonder what is next.
Well, I suppose I had better get back to my paper... and maybe check my houseplants.
Friday, January 26, 2007
I Like The Taste Of Foot
Apparently, anyway. Why else would I keep sticking mine into my mouth?
*sigh*
I like the Internet, because you have a chance to proofread before you hit send. In those cases, if you sound really, really stupid, you must really BE stupid. (Yes, I am aware that I have had many of those moments too.)
Unfortunately, my brain doesn't always work fast enough to catch those things before I speak them in person. I hate that. It's one of my biggest failings. It doesn't happen all of the time, but it happens often enough to really bug me. You can usually find me about an hour later wandering around aimlessly, occasionally pausing to smack my head on the wall several times, and mumbling things like "Why on earth would I have said that? It doesn't even make any sense. I mean, what neuron in my brain burped and sent THAT down to my vocal cords?" Or "WAS that even funny? Why did I laugh? Do they make medication for this sort of thing? Maybe I should just duct tape my mouth shut on a daily basis..."
I then try to make myself feel better by saying "Well, everyone does this... Sometimes... Kinda... I'm sure... right?" Or "Bet they don't even notice or remember - isn't the saying something like 'no one pays attention to what you say more than you do'? So they should have forgotten by now... oh PLEASE let them have forgotten by now...."
I keep thinking of the Shel Silverstein poem about wishing you had a hinge on your head so you could take all the bad stuff out and leave all the good stuff in. Of course... that might not leave a whole lot. Maybe I can put in M&M's or something...
*sigh*
I like the Internet, because you have a chance to proofread before you hit send. In those cases, if you sound really, really stupid, you must really BE stupid. (Yes, I am aware that I have had many of those moments too.)
Unfortunately, my brain doesn't always work fast enough to catch those things before I speak them in person. I hate that. It's one of my biggest failings. It doesn't happen all of the time, but it happens often enough to really bug me. You can usually find me about an hour later wandering around aimlessly, occasionally pausing to smack my head on the wall several times, and mumbling things like "Why on earth would I have said that? It doesn't even make any sense. I mean, what neuron in my brain burped and sent THAT down to my vocal cords?" Or "WAS that even funny? Why did I laugh? Do they make medication for this sort of thing? Maybe I should just duct tape my mouth shut on a daily basis..."
I then try to make myself feel better by saying "Well, everyone does this... Sometimes... Kinda... I'm sure... right?" Or "Bet they don't even notice or remember - isn't the saying something like 'no one pays attention to what you say more than you do'? So they should have forgotten by now... oh PLEASE let them have forgotten by now...."
I keep thinking of the Shel Silverstein poem about wishing you had a hinge on your head so you could take all the bad stuff out and leave all the good stuff in. Of course... that might not leave a whole lot. Maybe I can put in M&M's or something...
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Mental Health Days
Do you believe in "mental health days"? For those of you who don't know, it's when you take a day off from work/school/life when you are NOT sick, and it's not counted as a vacation day (people call in "sick" on these days, instead of planning for them.) You take a mental health day for various reasons like you are getting slightly twitchy and doing things like imagining your boss as a piece of raw meat that you can toss to your dog and watch him rip apart. Or you start addressing potted plants with polite courtesy and hugging crosswalk signs.
It's one of those things that a lot of people debate. On the business side of things, it costs "the industry" a lot of money. Fake sick days for people who don't "earn" sick time and are just on salary apparently cost quite a bit overall. Schools are absolutely against it. Miss a chance to be belittled in class without having the plague as an excuse? Heavens, no!
The flip side of the argument comes down to one word for most people: Postal. As in, going. Every so often someone looses their mind, goes into work, and shoots everything and everyone. So in an effort to avoid "going postal", many people say they need a mental health day now and again.
I have no idea on which side of the spectrum I fall. I know that I took advantage of my mother's opinion on mental health days (she was a nurse on a psychiatric ward for children, so had a different take on psychological issues.) The moment she mentioned them, I enthusiastically agreed. Why yes! I too would like a mental health day! Clearly, I am quite mental! I MUST qualify!
This boiled down to one day for every two to three months of school that I was allowed to "call in sick" on. Because my parents both worked insane hours, this also meant having the house all to myself. I did a much better rendition of being home alone than that blond kid in the movie. I dressed up in my mother's fancy clothes and paraded around the house. I raided my brother's star wars figures and made them all walk the plank out of his second story bedroom window (we never found C-3PO.) I ate anything I wanted. One day, I even climbed on top of the refrigerator and just sat there for an hour. I'm not entirely sure why.
On one hand, this did help cut down slightly on the amount of days I faked dying from an incurable disease to get out of going to school. A TINY bit anyway. It also worked largely in my favor if I was way behind at school, to get a day at home where I could catch up on my papers and then hand them in when I got back with a puppy dog look and a "Thank you Mrs. Smitschter, yes, I am feeling a little better." It is also good to point out that in high school, makeup became instrumental in convincing teachers I wasn't well. I'm such a pale individual anyway (yes, I know I rival bicycle reflectors and can probably be seen from space), all I had to do was ONLY put on "finishing" powder, which left me white as a ghost without anyone suspecting anything. Worked on my parents too.
As an adult with horrible jobs, I found that I needed one occasionally then too. However, declaring a mental health day and enjoying one are two separate things when you are a grown up. If you go out, suddenly you start hearing things in your head like "Oh no! What if someone I know sees me?" If you need to visit the grocery store, you head out in a full trench coat, snow pants, ski boots and over sized hat in 104 degree weather and covertly peer around corners before going down an aisle, ready at any moment to dive behind a display should someone suddenly turn up. You think of all the places you want to go, and start insanely imagining that your boss might have suddenly decided to hold the morning meeting in the zoo instead of the boardroom, and they would notice you while you were visiting the elephants.
I found that unless I was prepared to hole up inside my house with well stocked supplies and entertainment or drive six hours somewhere, I was actually more stressed out having a mental health day. This whole thing sort of defeated the purpose of relaxing, and I stopped taking them.
Fast forward to now, and I am back in college. Worse yet, I have college teachers who's policy it is to drop your final grade by a whole letter for every absence over two. As I have classes three days a week, AND children who may need me at any moment 40 miles away while I am there, I have no room for error with my "sick days". I find this highly annoying, considering it's college - grade me on my work, not my attendance. But hey, that's just me.
I'm not quite sure what it taught me as a kid to have mental health days, except that sitting on top of the refrigerator is a nice toasty warm spot that really annoys the dog. Perhaps that sometimes it's OK to play catch-up? That sometimes it's OK to just hide from things? I can't remember well enough to say that they helped my attitude any, though they did reduce my sleep deprivation which must have made a positive impact. Not being allowed any breaks now kind of grates on me too, and I have been fighting the urge to start naming the chairs in my classroom and trying to scale the bookshelves in the library.
However, I am now facing a new problem. My children are at the point where I have started to question whether or not I should have mental health days for them. Every morning for the past month (maybe longer) they have been complaining. My daughter came home sick yesterday from school, but I would peg her at the "hmmm" stage. This means "hmmmmm faking or not faking? Sick enough, or not sick enough? Old enough to fool mommy, but maybe not..."
Because I am home today, and because this has been going on for a while, my daughter stayed home. It's quite clear to me that she would have been fine in school today, health-wise. So now I face an interesting dilemma. Do I pass down the traditions of mental health days? Or do I call a conference with her teacher and find out what is wrong (I think I'm going to do this in either case.) Then force her to go to school from here on out like a normal person, and if she wants to call in sick she'll have to find a way to become really convincing.
So, do you all take Mental Health Days? Would you let your kids have them?
It's one of those things that a lot of people debate. On the business side of things, it costs "the industry" a lot of money. Fake sick days for people who don't "earn" sick time and are just on salary apparently cost quite a bit overall. Schools are absolutely against it. Miss a chance to be belittled in class without having the plague as an excuse? Heavens, no!
The flip side of the argument comes down to one word for most people: Postal. As in, going. Every so often someone looses their mind, goes into work, and shoots everything and everyone. So in an effort to avoid "going postal", many people say they need a mental health day now and again.
I have no idea on which side of the spectrum I fall. I know that I took advantage of my mother's opinion on mental health days (she was a nurse on a psychiatric ward for children, so had a different take on psychological issues.) The moment she mentioned them, I enthusiastically agreed. Why yes! I too would like a mental health day! Clearly, I am quite mental! I MUST qualify!
This boiled down to one day for every two to three months of school that I was allowed to "call in sick" on. Because my parents both worked insane hours, this also meant having the house all to myself. I did a much better rendition of being home alone than that blond kid in the movie. I dressed up in my mother's fancy clothes and paraded around the house. I raided my brother's star wars figures and made them all walk the plank out of his second story bedroom window (we never found C-3PO.) I ate anything I wanted. One day, I even climbed on top of the refrigerator and just sat there for an hour. I'm not entirely sure why.
On one hand, this did help cut down slightly on the amount of days I faked dying from an incurable disease to get out of going to school. A TINY bit anyway. It also worked largely in my favor if I was way behind at school, to get a day at home where I could catch up on my papers and then hand them in when I got back with a puppy dog look and a "Thank you Mrs. Smitschter, yes, I am feeling a little better." It is also good to point out that in high school, makeup became instrumental in convincing teachers I wasn't well. I'm such a pale individual anyway (yes, I know I rival bicycle reflectors and can probably be seen from space), all I had to do was ONLY put on "finishing" powder, which left me white as a ghost without anyone suspecting anything. Worked on my parents too.
As an adult with horrible jobs, I found that I needed one occasionally then too. However, declaring a mental health day and enjoying one are two separate things when you are a grown up. If you go out, suddenly you start hearing things in your head like "Oh no! What if someone I know sees me?" If you need to visit the grocery store, you head out in a full trench coat, snow pants, ski boots and over sized hat in 104 degree weather and covertly peer around corners before going down an aisle, ready at any moment to dive behind a display should someone suddenly turn up. You think of all the places you want to go, and start insanely imagining that your boss might have suddenly decided to hold the morning meeting in the zoo instead of the boardroom, and they would notice you while you were visiting the elephants.
I found that unless I was prepared to hole up inside my house with well stocked supplies and entertainment or drive six hours somewhere, I was actually more stressed out having a mental health day. This whole thing sort of defeated the purpose of relaxing, and I stopped taking them.
Fast forward to now, and I am back in college. Worse yet, I have college teachers who's policy it is to drop your final grade by a whole letter for every absence over two. As I have classes three days a week, AND children who may need me at any moment 40 miles away while I am there, I have no room for error with my "sick days". I find this highly annoying, considering it's college - grade me on my work, not my attendance. But hey, that's just me.
I'm not quite sure what it taught me as a kid to have mental health days, except that sitting on top of the refrigerator is a nice toasty warm spot that really annoys the dog. Perhaps that sometimes it's OK to play catch-up? That sometimes it's OK to just hide from things? I can't remember well enough to say that they helped my attitude any, though they did reduce my sleep deprivation which must have made a positive impact. Not being allowed any breaks now kind of grates on me too, and I have been fighting the urge to start naming the chairs in my classroom and trying to scale the bookshelves in the library.
However, I am now facing a new problem. My children are at the point where I have started to question whether or not I should have mental health days for them. Every morning for the past month (maybe longer) they have been complaining. My daughter came home sick yesterday from school, but I would peg her at the "hmmm" stage. This means "hmmmmm faking or not faking? Sick enough, or not sick enough? Old enough to fool mommy, but maybe not..."
Because I am home today, and because this has been going on for a while, my daughter stayed home. It's quite clear to me that she would have been fine in school today, health-wise. So now I face an interesting dilemma. Do I pass down the traditions of mental health days? Or do I call a conference with her teacher and find out what is wrong (I think I'm going to do this in either case.) Then force her to go to school from here on out like a normal person, and if she wants to call in sick she'll have to find a way to become really convincing.
So, do you all take Mental Health Days? Would you let your kids have them?
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
It's All About Them
Want to know how to send a room full of bright eyed, slightly dazed and rather confused college kids into severe depression without restricting beer or pizza? Start your class lecture by telling everyone that they don't matter, and that no one cares about them. Fantastic strategy!
In all seriousness, the discussion was on management. The point was that no manager anywhere actually gives a darn about you. They don't care if you are sick, or have a life outside of work. They don't care who you are, not even on the smallest level. But a "good manager" will ask a how you are and "put up with having to listen to your answer" because it makes for a happier worker, if he/she can speak about themselves.
On one hand, I totally understand the concept of just needing everyone to do their jobs. I also understand the concept about asking a question now and then to connect. I do NOT like the attitude that everyone there is just an annoyance in the manager's life. I also don't like the idea that the other person is somehow this insignificant being that you have to "put up with" when you ask them a direct question. It seems... well, totally insulting and rude.
However, I believe that the majority of people (not just managers) are like this. They don't care about anyone else's life but their own. Sure, they might be curious how the rich and famous are doing - but not many people really care whether or not Brad Pitt has a stomach ache. Not REALLY. Bring it closer to home, minus the interesting gossip, they really don't care about you and yours either.
In my own working experiences, I found this to be true as well. People want a cog in the machine when they hire someone. Case in point; one of my jobs went really poorly. I couldn't figure out why. I did my job really well, I got along with everyone, I didn't chat or have annoying habits, I was nice. One day I caught my manager glaring at my desk. I had a photo of my husband and I on it. Nothing else personal. No frilly pink fuzzy headed trolls or a scrapbook of my life - just ONE small 3" x 5" photo.
I thought about it, and how it had been over a month and the job wasn't getting any better. So, as an experiment I took down my photo of my husband. The change was immediate! Suddenly my manager was cordial to me - she was never nice, in any sense of the word, but even indifferent is better than mean. It was all about my picture on my desk - a connection to me being a real human being.
This was also during a time I was re-evaluating what made a friend a friend. I had a theory - people were only friends with others because they were allowed to talk about themselves and focus on themselves with someone else. In truth, no one was interested in hearing anything about anyone else, they only wanted to talk about themselves. So, I did another experiment (apparently, I had way too much free time on my hands even though I was in college full time and working...) This experiment involved meeting someone, and not talking about myself - EVER. I wanted to see what would happen.
Would a one sided friendship like that flourish or fail? Would the other person even notice?
So, in one of my classes I met someone. I said nothing about myself, and listened to her. By the end of the semester, she declared me one of her best friends. The truth was, she IS a nice person (it had to be an experiment with someone I could get along with at least.) Do you know, this person still talks to me? It's been over 10 years, and she still counts me as a dear friend. Admittedly, about five years ago she actually said to me "You never talk about yourself. Tell me about your life." But those conversations are always rather short lived.
So my conclusions are that people DO only think about themselves, but you run out of material at around the five year mark and then start paying attention to others... for a little while. OK, in all seriousness though, I do think that people don't care too much what other people have to say or what's going on in their lives. I admit, I don't care about every single person who crosses my path. But the flip-side to that is that I DO care about those I count as friends - but those are few and far between. I guess, deep down, I do hope that my friends care a little about what happens in my life, like I do for them.
The interesting exception to all of this is blogging. Blogging is rather an enigma. I think it has really dumbfounded a lot of professionals that view the human race in a similar manner as myself. Ignore the political commentary and celebrity blogs. Here are millions of people, all over the world, talking about themselves. And you know what? They ARE interesting. They ARE worth listening to, and people are reading.
Why do you suppose that is? Is it that us nutty bloggers all have some special character trait in common that attracts us to one another to build a support group? Most of us who have a blog frequent other blogs on a regular basis. We keep track of those people through their blogs. It matters, for some reason. Some more than others, mind you - but it matters. For example, I have an online "blog-friend" who recently has been going through a really tough time with the school system and trying to get a safe environment for her son who has special needs (Hi Melissa!) The situation was awful, and I really truly cared what happened. But I have never MET her in person or spoken with her over the phone.
So what makes a person care about what happens to another? Especially since the general consensus is that no one really does care? Purely on the blogging level - what makes us visit one another and read about each other's lives? Maybe there is a blogging gene. Hmmm...
In all seriousness, the discussion was on management. The point was that no manager anywhere actually gives a darn about you. They don't care if you are sick, or have a life outside of work. They don't care who you are, not even on the smallest level. But a "good manager" will ask a how you are and "put up with having to listen to your answer" because it makes for a happier worker, if he/she can speak about themselves.
On one hand, I totally understand the concept of just needing everyone to do their jobs. I also understand the concept about asking a question now and then to connect. I do NOT like the attitude that everyone there is just an annoyance in the manager's life. I also don't like the idea that the other person is somehow this insignificant being that you have to "put up with" when you ask them a direct question. It seems... well, totally insulting and rude.
However, I believe that the majority of people (not just managers) are like this. They don't care about anyone else's life but their own. Sure, they might be curious how the rich and famous are doing - but not many people really care whether or not Brad Pitt has a stomach ache. Not REALLY. Bring it closer to home, minus the interesting gossip, they really don't care about you and yours either.
In my own working experiences, I found this to be true as well. People want a cog in the machine when they hire someone. Case in point; one of my jobs went really poorly. I couldn't figure out why. I did my job really well, I got along with everyone, I didn't chat or have annoying habits, I was nice. One day I caught my manager glaring at my desk. I had a photo of my husband and I on it. Nothing else personal. No frilly pink fuzzy headed trolls or a scrapbook of my life - just ONE small 3" x 5" photo.
I thought about it, and how it had been over a month and the job wasn't getting any better. So, as an experiment I took down my photo of my husband. The change was immediate! Suddenly my manager was cordial to me - she was never nice, in any sense of the word, but even indifferent is better than mean. It was all about my picture on my desk - a connection to me being a real human being.
This was also during a time I was re-evaluating what made a friend a friend. I had a theory - people were only friends with others because they were allowed to talk about themselves and focus on themselves with someone else. In truth, no one was interested in hearing anything about anyone else, they only wanted to talk about themselves. So, I did another experiment (apparently, I had way too much free time on my hands even though I was in college full time and working...) This experiment involved meeting someone, and not talking about myself - EVER. I wanted to see what would happen.
Would a one sided friendship like that flourish or fail? Would the other person even notice?
So, in one of my classes I met someone. I said nothing about myself, and listened to her. By the end of the semester, she declared me one of her best friends. The truth was, she IS a nice person (it had to be an experiment with someone I could get along with at least.) Do you know, this person still talks to me? It's been over 10 years, and she still counts me as a dear friend. Admittedly, about five years ago she actually said to me "You never talk about yourself. Tell me about your life." But those conversations are always rather short lived.
So my conclusions are that people DO only think about themselves, but you run out of material at around the five year mark and then start paying attention to others... for a little while. OK, in all seriousness though, I do think that people don't care too much what other people have to say or what's going on in their lives. I admit, I don't care about every single person who crosses my path. But the flip-side to that is that I DO care about those I count as friends - but those are few and far between. I guess, deep down, I do hope that my friends care a little about what happens in my life, like I do for them.
The interesting exception to all of this is blogging. Blogging is rather an enigma. I think it has really dumbfounded a lot of professionals that view the human race in a similar manner as myself. Ignore the political commentary and celebrity blogs. Here are millions of people, all over the world, talking about themselves. And you know what? They ARE interesting. They ARE worth listening to, and people are reading.
Why do you suppose that is? Is it that us nutty bloggers all have some special character trait in common that attracts us to one another to build a support group? Most of us who have a blog frequent other blogs on a regular basis. We keep track of those people through their blogs. It matters, for some reason. Some more than others, mind you - but it matters. For example, I have an online "blog-friend" who recently has been going through a really tough time with the school system and trying to get a safe environment for her son who has special needs (Hi Melissa!) The situation was awful, and I really truly cared what happened. But I have never MET her in person or spoken with her over the phone.
So what makes a person care about what happens to another? Especially since the general consensus is that no one really does care? Purely on the blogging level - what makes us visit one another and read about each other's lives? Maybe there is a blogging gene. Hmmm...
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Systems Failure!
Everything is breaking around me right now. It's really amazing. I was driving in my car yesterday, and had about six years shaved off my life when the car started beeping and whistling at me. It turned out the beeping was telling me it was time to service my car, and the whistling was a combination of a belt and "some other kind of vibration, but don't worry, you should be fine... for a little while" (Mr. Savy's comforting words.)
Great. I drive 80 miles a day when I go to school. Exactly what does a "little while" mean?
Later, I was doing the dishes (I lost a bet.) As I pushed the lower rack in, the entire water sprayer-turny-thing and pipe just flat out busted off the dishwasher and landed with a crash on top of my glass dishes. The piece is expensive enough, that between the cost of the part and shipping we're more than half way to a new washer. So we made plans to go out today and look at them... poste haste.
But not before I went to go for my run! It was at about mile two that my left speaker in my ear just STOPPED working. The right was fine, but the left - nothing. Odd... but I couldn't stop to muddle with it. Then, about two minutes later, the left side started blipping in and out. This turns out to be even MORE annoying than just having one side out. Unfortunately, I cannot run without music. Worse, I cannot have one ear piece in and the other bouncing all over the place - so that was how I finished my run. Music strobbing in my left ear, while I cursed between strides.
Then I took a shower, and the shower head fell off. I was brushing out my hair, and the brush broke in two. I went to print out a report for class tomorrow, and the printer stopped printing every fourth line.
And my cat has stopped speaking to me.
I managed to get dressed without anything else blowing up, and we drove into town to look at dishwashers, printers, and headphones/ear buds. We ended up at Best Buy. Inside we just HAD to wander down the new television aisles. We don't need a new TV, but it's absolutely fascinating to me. I suppose I need to clarify that we go into electronic type stores MAYBE once a year. I find that they are extremely dangerous for Mr. Savy to be around. It's a lot like asking a convicted, active drug addict to work the drug seizure closet at the police department.
I remember going to Service Merchandise when I was a kid and buying our first "in need of a TV stand" television. Before that, we had a giant television that was cross bred with an oak end table. You know, the kind of televisions you see from the 1950's? That's what my parents had until then. Even the new televisions still had the turn knobs, and only got four channels. Not to mention they weighed about a ton and a half. But they didn't look like cyborg coffee tables anymore - and that was COOL! Well, for the 1980's anyway.
Now, the aisles are full of thin televisions bigger than my car's windshield. I even got to see the new one that has lights on the side that change with the picture. I have to tell you, I find that really stupid. Anyone who has ever watched television in a dark room gets the same affect without having to pay an extra thousand dollars for little light bulbs on the sides. Still, my kids were completely in awe as we walked down the aisles, and I had to go back for Mr. Savy three times.
Unfortunately, we still have no dishwasher - none were in stock and they were all so expensive that we ended up leaving hoping to do a bit more research. However, during one of my trips taking the kids to the bathroom, Mr. Savy got lost in the computer department. This ended up costing us a bit - as he ended up walking out with a multi-tasking printer/copier/scanner/faxer/robotic slave. It has a lot of buttons and lights, and I feel a little nervous - as though it's watching me right now (it's sitting to the side of the monitor.)
I may lock the door to this room tonight. Just to be safe.
My biggest concern is two fold now; I need to find great excuses to get out of doing the dishes until we figure out this dishwasher issue, and I need to make it to and from school without my car blowing up on me tomorrow. What do you think my odds are? I normally go with the "things happen in threes" kind of thinking, but I believe we're beyond those rules at this point...
Great. I drive 80 miles a day when I go to school. Exactly what does a "little while" mean?
Later, I was doing the dishes (I lost a bet.) As I pushed the lower rack in, the entire water sprayer-turny-thing and pipe just flat out busted off the dishwasher and landed with a crash on top of my glass dishes. The piece is expensive enough, that between the cost of the part and shipping we're more than half way to a new washer. So we made plans to go out today and look at them... poste haste.
But not before I went to go for my run! It was at about mile two that my left speaker in my ear just STOPPED working. The right was fine, but the left - nothing. Odd... but I couldn't stop to muddle with it. Then, about two minutes later, the left side started blipping in and out. This turns out to be even MORE annoying than just having one side out. Unfortunately, I cannot run without music. Worse, I cannot have one ear piece in and the other bouncing all over the place - so that was how I finished my run. Music strobbing in my left ear, while I cursed between strides.
Then I took a shower, and the shower head fell off. I was brushing out my hair, and the brush broke in two. I went to print out a report for class tomorrow, and the printer stopped printing every fourth line.
And my cat has stopped speaking to me.
I managed to get dressed without anything else blowing up, and we drove into town to look at dishwashers, printers, and headphones/ear buds. We ended up at Best Buy. Inside we just HAD to wander down the new television aisles. We don't need a new TV, but it's absolutely fascinating to me. I suppose I need to clarify that we go into electronic type stores MAYBE once a year. I find that they are extremely dangerous for Mr. Savy to be around. It's a lot like asking a convicted, active drug addict to work the drug seizure closet at the police department.
I remember going to Service Merchandise when I was a kid and buying our first "in need of a TV stand" television. Before that, we had a giant television that was cross bred with an oak end table. You know, the kind of televisions you see from the 1950's? That's what my parents had until then. Even the new televisions still had the turn knobs, and only got four channels. Not to mention they weighed about a ton and a half. But they didn't look like cyborg coffee tables anymore - and that was COOL! Well, for the 1980's anyway.
Now, the aisles are full of thin televisions bigger than my car's windshield. I even got to see the new one that has lights on the side that change with the picture. I have to tell you, I find that really stupid. Anyone who has ever watched television in a dark room gets the same affect without having to pay an extra thousand dollars for little light bulbs on the sides. Still, my kids were completely in awe as we walked down the aisles, and I had to go back for Mr. Savy three times.
Unfortunately, we still have no dishwasher - none were in stock and they were all so expensive that we ended up leaving hoping to do a bit more research. However, during one of my trips taking the kids to the bathroom, Mr. Savy got lost in the computer department. This ended up costing us a bit - as he ended up walking out with a multi-tasking printer/copier/scanner/faxer/robotic slave. It has a lot of buttons and lights, and I feel a little nervous - as though it's watching me right now (it's sitting to the side of the monitor.)
I may lock the door to this room tonight. Just to be safe.
My biggest concern is two fold now; I need to find great excuses to get out of doing the dishes until we figure out this dishwasher issue, and I need to make it to and from school without my car blowing up on me tomorrow. What do you think my odds are? I normally go with the "things happen in threes" kind of thinking, but I believe we're beyond those rules at this point...
Friday, January 19, 2007
Love Obsession
Yesterday, my son came home from Kindergarten with a little white envelope. I thought it was a bit odd, and watched as my son opened it. Inside were no less than 14 "love notes", on white note cards.
I'm not kidding. They all have a small variance on the basic "I love you" theme, in pencil, signed and all. Little hearts. Houses. Trees (not sure where she was going with the tree thing.) I know which child they're from, another kindergartner who is five (my son turned six a couple months ago), and has been a friend of my son since the first day.
I'm seriously having issues. Doesn't anyone else think Kindergarten is a wee bit young to start having romantic obsessions? I never even wore makeup until my mother confronted me and told me to start at almost 14 years old. Boys? PSHAW!
I knew I would have to worry about my daughter with her flame red hair, baby blue eyes, and social personality (and Mr. Savy has been stocking up on shot-guns and scare tactics since the day she was born.) But my son?
I suppose it all began a couple months ago when some of the other mothers approached me and told me how they thought it was cute that there was a triangle going on. Huh? Triangle? With who? My son was friends with a bunch of girls in his class, and they were all very jealous of his time spent with anyone but them (this girl is one of them.) But even the boys were jealous when my son spent time with anyone but them. All the mothers were very nice about it, but it was a little weird hearing over and over from different people how their child was sad that my son had spent time with someone else today.
Now, I know he's a nice kid - he never hits, pushes, or forces anyone to play or do anything. He's very kind and cooperative, and imaginative - the kids love him to "invent" that day's adventure, and he's very good at it. So, maybe that is it. One mother approached me after having worked in the classroom and said that my son struck her as one of those "Still waters Run Deep" sort of guys, and I was going to be in trouble with the girls before too long.
Warning noted, and all - but LOVE NOTES in Kindergarten??? Seriously? Does this sound normal? Has anyone else dealt with this? SHOULD I do anything, or just ignore it, while stuffing my fingers in my ears, pinching my eyes shut, and humming "It's a small world after all" over and over again?
Do *I* need to go invest in shotguns now?
Thursday, January 18, 2007
The "Bite Me" Clause
What is it? It's my policy on in-laws. HA! Sorry.
Now, in all seriousness, I have a question for you. What was your worst work-conflict situation you ever had? I'm not talking about a working-conflict where you had to decide between going to work or going surfing. I'm referring to a conflict that you yourself had with someone at work - either a coworker, a boss, a customer, what have you. What is your all time winner?
One of my new classes is actually pretty fascinating (one out of six this semester, for those keeping track. WHY am I in school again?) It's all about negotiating workplace issues and we're starting with the fun topic of workplace conflicts.
I'm rather sensitive to the whole issue, as I have had a whole lot of those. No, I haven't been going into work with fists swinging or anything, but I have had a lot of bad experiences to look back on and be grateful that I am not there any longer. Really, it's hard to pick out which was the worst conflict I ever had. I have more of a revolving plethora of work nightmares to shuffle through at my leisure. I believe a large part of this was due to the fact that I went to work, while everyone else my age went off to college. The youngest "adults" in the workforce seem to be like walking punching bags to a lot of people.
The only job I was ever fired from, was one in Chicago - and I was fired on my first day. In my first two minutes of work. What, pray tell, do you think I could have done to be fired on my first day within two minutes of arrival? I showed up in business slacks. I was summarily shown the door with a loud and VERY vicious lecture on how women in business should NEVER EVER wear slacks - only skirts and dresses. I was told I was a disgrace, an embarrassment, and would not be allowed to work there - BY WOMEN!
I was 19 years old, and devastated. I went home and cried my eyes out. I called my husband (fiancee at the time, actually) and he had no idea what to say. I called the placement agency and they were simply dumbfounded, and called the company to verify that I wasn't lying about what had happened, then called back and simply stuttered in amazement. I pulled all the shades, grabbed a vat of ice cream, and burrowed under my covers in my bed. As you can tell, I handled that with grace and diplomacy.
Looking back, I was LUCKY. I cannot imagine working for a place like that. Two minutes was long enough, considering. I made sure to wear business slacks/suit to every single interview after that. It was a fantastic screening tool. I had a slew of other business jobs after that. One taught me a great deal about working for a woman... or at least a LOT of women out there. Maybe others have had decent women bosses, but I have to be honest - I never have. That job lasted longer than two minutes, but was nasty after the first two weeks. The boss was getting a divorce, and I was getting married. They (the office) gave me a present before I left for my wedding, and the boss said "I'm amazed people still rush into stupid choices like this. I expect you back at 9 a.m. sharp on the 22nd, or I will terminate you." She was a terror, what can I say?
Considering my experience with the corporate world (which all of those were), it's amazing that I am now getting a degree in business (all the art majors still treat me as though I have betrayed my people, which I find really humorous.) But looking back I think a lot of the problems stemmed from the fact that I was really young which made me a target, and I was in Chicago - dangerous on multiple levels, and it wasn't my lifelong dream to be there while others were planning on climbing the corporate ladder all the way to the top no matter who they had to kill. I wasn't a part of the game, so I was expendable. I can see that now.
Also, being so young - in those instances I did NOT have a backbone. I was out of my depth. Out of my home state. Out of any known territory that I felt safe, and I was all alone. I was timid as hell back then. I think that also brings out the sharks, like blood in the water. Not that it's any excuse, but it's interesting to look back at. At my 30-something... Oh alright I'm 31 and pushing 32... age, I have plenty of backbone/confidence.
Heck, I look back on those positions and think "boy, put that witch in front of me NOW, and see her try that!" I call it my "Bite Me" clause. You know though, I think it came not so much from my "years of wisdom" *cough* but my having a family, and knowing that something/someone meant more to me than any job. It sort of gives you an invulnerability, one that I never had at back then.
OK, enough digressing. So, lets hear it! What is your WORST work conflict you have ever had?
Now, in all seriousness, I have a question for you. What was your worst work-conflict situation you ever had? I'm not talking about a working-conflict where you had to decide between going to work or going surfing. I'm referring to a conflict that you yourself had with someone at work - either a coworker, a boss, a customer, what have you. What is your all time winner?One of my new classes is actually pretty fascinating (one out of six this semester, for those keeping track. WHY am I in school again?) It's all about negotiating workplace issues and we're starting with the fun topic of workplace conflicts.
I'm rather sensitive to the whole issue, as I have had a whole lot of those. No, I haven't been going into work with fists swinging or anything, but I have had a lot of bad experiences to look back on and be grateful that I am not there any longer. Really, it's hard to pick out which was the worst conflict I ever had. I have more of a revolving plethora of work nightmares to shuffle through at my leisure. I believe a large part of this was due to the fact that I went to work, while everyone else my age went off to college. The youngest "adults" in the workforce seem to be like walking punching bags to a lot of people.The only job I was ever fired from, was one in Chicago - and I was fired on my first day. In my first two minutes of work. What, pray tell, do you think I could have done to be fired on my first day within two minutes of arrival? I showed up in business slacks. I was summarily shown the door with a loud and VERY vicious lecture on how women in business should NEVER EVER wear slacks - only skirts and dresses. I was told I was a disgrace, an embarrassment, and would not be allowed to work there - BY WOMEN!
I was 19 years old, and devastated. I went home and cried my eyes out. I called my husband (fiancee at the time, actually) and he had no idea what to say. I called the placement agency and they were simply dumbfounded, and called the company to verify that I wasn't lying about what had happened, then called back and simply stuttered in amazement. I pulled all the shades, grabbed a vat of ice cream, and burrowed under my covers in my bed. As you can tell, I handled that with grace and diplomacy.
Looking back, I was LUCKY. I cannot imagine working for a place like that. Two minutes was long enough, considering. I made sure to wear business slacks/suit to every single interview after that. It was a fantastic screening tool. I had a slew of other business jobs after that. One taught me a great deal about working for a woman... or at least a LOT of women out there. Maybe others have had decent women bosses, but I have to be honest - I never have. That job lasted longer than two minutes, but was nasty after the first two weeks. The boss was getting a divorce, and I was getting married. They (the office) gave me a present before I left for my wedding, and the boss said "I'm amazed people still rush into stupid choices like this. I expect you back at 9 a.m. sharp on the 22nd, or I will terminate you." She was a terror, what can I say?
Considering my experience with the corporate world (which all of those were), it's amazing that I am now getting a degree in business (all the art majors still treat me as though I have betrayed my people, which I find really humorous.) But looking back I think a lot of the problems stemmed from the fact that I was really young which made me a target, and I was in Chicago - dangerous on multiple levels, and it wasn't my lifelong dream to be there while others were planning on climbing the corporate ladder all the way to the top no matter who they had to kill. I wasn't a part of the game, so I was expendable. I can see that now.
Also, being so young - in those instances I did NOT have a backbone. I was out of my depth. Out of my home state. Out of any known territory that I felt safe, and I was all alone. I was timid as hell back then. I think that also brings out the sharks, like blood in the water. Not that it's any excuse, but it's interesting to look back at. At my 30-something... Oh alright I'm 31 and pushing 32... age, I have plenty of backbone/confidence.
Heck, I look back on those positions and think "boy, put that witch in front of me NOW, and see her try that!" I call it my "Bite Me" clause. You know though, I think it came not so much from my "years of wisdom" *cough* but my having a family, and knowing that something/someone meant more to me than any job. It sort of gives you an invulnerability, one that I never had at back then.
OK, enough digressing. So, lets hear it! What is your WORST work conflict you have ever had?
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Seven Year Glitch
This morning it was cold. I mean, a setting your clothes on fire is an attractive alternative to this - kind of COLD. My poor kids were SOBBING while waiting for the bus, because they said their toes hurt. Even though we had only been standing outside for just under two minutes, and they were in snow boots, suits, hats, clothes, socks, gloves, and other gear to the hilt.
Luckily, the bus pulled up and I tossed them into the warmth without a backwards glance while I sprinted back to my house. Once inside, I stripped off my gloves, ran to the sink, and ran warm water over my literally blue and white fingers. I was one second away from sobbing myself. That was truly brutal cold this morning. Driving to school I had the heat on full blast for the whole hour long drive and it never got better than slightly warm in my car!
This didn't seem like a good beginning to my Spring semester. Luckily, it was just a hiccup in my day that was otherwise reasonable. And speaking of hiccups...
I was sitting in my Statistics II class when it happened. I'm not even sure how it happened, exactly. I was sitting there laughing with a classmate (because he actually flirted with me, so I could only assume his eye sight was on the bad side of blind as a bat, or he has seen The Graduate way too many times), and suddenly my gum was halfway down my throat. On the upside, I didn't choke at all. Downside, I think it's STILL there. I swear I can still feel it, even though it's eight hours later.
I haven't swallowed gum since I was TEN, for crying out loud! And back then, I did it on PURPOSE! Just to thwart the whole "seven year glitch", which even then we all knew was likely an old wives tale. Well, we hoped as much.
I remember sitting in the back yard with a giant pack of grape Hubba Bubba bubblegum (which wasn't supposed to stick to anything, but one Halloween I fell asleep with a gob of it in my mouth, and woke up to purple spots ALL over my body. Even I was astounded by that one.) My brother had a pack of the horrid strawberry flavor, and we chewed and then dared each other to swallow it.
OK, so it sounds silly, but at seven years old we were considered local heroes that day. No other kids could lay claim to swallowing a whole pack of Hubba Bubba! We were rebels! We were famous! We were really sick afterwards! The stomach ache is still a vivid memory all these years later.
I think I am regressing a little too much by going back to college/university. I may need to rethink this move.
Luckily, the bus pulled up and I tossed them into the warmth without a backwards glance while I sprinted back to my house. Once inside, I stripped off my gloves, ran to the sink, and ran warm water over my literally blue and white fingers. I was one second away from sobbing myself. That was truly brutal cold this morning. Driving to school I had the heat on full blast for the whole hour long drive and it never got better than slightly warm in my car!
This didn't seem like a good beginning to my Spring semester. Luckily, it was just a hiccup in my day that was otherwise reasonable. And speaking of hiccups...
I was sitting in my Statistics II class when it happened. I'm not even sure how it happened, exactly. I was sitting there laughing with a classmate (because he actually flirted with me, so I could only assume his eye sight was on the bad side of blind as a bat, or he has seen The Graduate way too many times), and suddenly my gum was halfway down my throat. On the upside, I didn't choke at all. Downside, I think it's STILL there. I swear I can still feel it, even though it's eight hours later.
I haven't swallowed gum since I was TEN, for crying out loud! And back then, I did it on PURPOSE! Just to thwart the whole "seven year glitch", which even then we all knew was likely an old wives tale. Well, we hoped as much.
I remember sitting in the back yard with a giant pack of grape Hubba Bubba bubblegum (which wasn't supposed to stick to anything, but one Halloween I fell asleep with a gob of it in my mouth, and woke up to purple spots ALL over my body. Even I was astounded by that one.) My brother had a pack of the horrid strawberry flavor, and we chewed and then dared each other to swallow it.
OK, so it sounds silly, but at seven years old we were considered local heroes that day. No other kids could lay claim to swallowing a whole pack of Hubba Bubba! We were rebels! We were famous! We were really sick afterwards! The stomach ache is still a vivid memory all these years later.
I think I am regressing a little too much by going back to college/university. I may need to rethink this move.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Are You Alpha?
Well, I guess it decided to pretend it is winter here after all. We got snow yesterday, but then it changed to RAIN and ruined it. Now it's so bitterly cold (tomorrow, the high is supposed to be around 3 degrees F, that's -16.11 C for all my non-USA readers), all I want to do is stay wrapped up in my flannel pj's next to my fire place. Instead, I am dressed. *sigh*
But the upside is, we're having the furniture we purchased over a week ago delivered right this very moment. I'm hiding in the basement with the computer balance on a kitchen chair while Mr. Savy handles it, because I always seem to end up in the wrong spot. I did jump into the big chocolate-chair as soon as it was set up... only to leap right back out of it because it had been in the truck and was FREEZING! I'm sure it'll be snugly eventually.
So, hopefully this will be the last blog posted from a computer balanced on a chair!
Now, onto something more interesting: Do you consider yourself an Alpha? This is an interesting article (click here), on whether or not the female alpha exists compared with the male alpha. I found it rather entertaining anyway.
It made me think a little of my experiences with the Stepford wives and such. Of course, envisioning them as a pack of elephants is amusing for multiple reasons (taking a moment), but truthfully, minus the whole outsider vs. insider thing going on - maybe they're all trying to establish a pecking order? Which doesn't work in their favor when someone won't play the game, like me.
Well, anyway - do you consider yourself an "Alpha" Why, or why not?
But the upside is, we're having the furniture we purchased over a week ago delivered right this very moment. I'm hiding in the basement with the computer balance on a kitchen chair while Mr. Savy handles it, because I always seem to end up in the wrong spot. I did jump into the big chocolate-chair as soon as it was set up... only to leap right back out of it because it had been in the truck and was FREEZING! I'm sure it'll be snugly eventually.
So, hopefully this will be the last blog posted from a computer balanced on a chair!
Now, onto something more interesting: Do you consider yourself an Alpha? This is an interesting article (click here), on whether or not the female alpha exists compared with the male alpha. I found it rather entertaining anyway.
It made me think a little of my experiences with the Stepford wives and such. Of course, envisioning them as a pack of elephants is amusing for multiple reasons (taking a moment), but truthfully, minus the whole outsider vs. insider thing going on - maybe they're all trying to establish a pecking order? Which doesn't work in their favor when someone won't play the game, like me.
Well, anyway - do you consider yourself an "Alpha" Why, or why not?
Monday, January 15, 2007
Having Dreams
I saw a commercial on television today, while my brain was turning into lime jell-o (daytime television has that affect on me, thank goodness the semester starts back up on Wednesday) and something penetrated the neon green haze - a voice saying "You can't surround yourself with people who don't have dreams."
I filed it in the back of my head for a while and thought on it. It's not often that anything from a commercial catches my attention, much less stays with me. I liked how it sounded, but something about it really, really bothered me. I finally figured out what it was. Minus my husband, I think that's all I have ever done - surrounded myself with people who DON'T have dreams.
What a horrible realization.
I look back to the entire high school episode that I semi-relived last week, and I look at ALL my friends back then - NONE of them ever had a dream. My once upon a time best friend's sole ambition was to stay at home, eat ice cream, and watch soap operas. I remember the day she said that to me, I had been trying to figure out what she wanted to do after high school. I had SO many dreams, so many ideas, that I thought hearing someone else's might offer an interesting perspective. You know, offer some sort of reason for a certain direction.
I thought she was joking when she told me that was all she wanted out of life, but she wasn't. She was from a well off family, and everything. College was already paid for if she wanted it. She didn't. She even said that she would "be willing to have children" if it meant she could stay home with them, ignore them during Days Of Our Lives, and have her ice cream while they just left her alone. Last I heard, that's exactly what she achieved. Welfare covers ice cream and cable, apparently.
The friend I just cut loose, NW, had NO ambition at all, minus having a baby. That's it, nothing beyond that - and it was never about the baby, but her. That's all there ever was. And the rest of the friends? The others just didn't care. They went with the flow of existence, and where ever the wind blew them was where they were going to be. When I think about them, I see life in a dull colorless world, unlived.
I suppose that is why they always thought I was going to run off into the city and be the corporate single girl, conquering the world. At least they saw I had somewhere I needed to go. Granted, I was not sure where that was exactly. Even now, I'm not there yet, I am STILL moving towards something, and I didn't expect to be where I am - though I am not unhappy with it, hard though it is sometimes. Except for one thing; I'm lonely.
When the drama happened way back in high school, I was cut off from everyone. In hindsight, it was good, because I shed those people who were deliberately dragging me down. But the thing was - where the hell were the people who DID have dreams?
Well, they're out achieving them, that's where. At least that's my theory. The whole "a rolling stone gathers no moss" kind of thing. A person with a purpose collects few friends. Do you think that is true? I also wonder if the whole misery loves company thing comes into play too - because when you are moving towards something you have a lot less time to spend miserable and moping about it. Miserable people are not kind to those who are working towards something - that I know to be fact. Something driven home to me on a very confusing level this morning.
Today I went to my children's school to watch a short play my daughter was in. Unfortunately, all the Stepford Wives were there too. But this time, the Stepford Wives had company in their disdain. The other mom's that I used to get along with reasonably well sat cattily off to themselves with lots of looks and low voices. I found that a bit odd, but OK, fine. I haven't been around much since I went back to school - I think this is the first play I have been able to attend this school year, actually. No, wait - I made it for the tail end of one other. (Yeah, OK, I suck. I'm bad-mommy now. Even the working mom's make it to every single darn play the kids put on.)
One finally called over from four seats away and asked "how things were going." Fine, I said. "Nice that you could make it here today, no other plans?"
*teeth clenching* "No, not until Wednesday."
"Wednesday?" Every one of the women around me watching me.
"Yes, the semester starts then."
"Oh, you haven't given that up yet? School, I mean." This from the woman holding the two pound poodle in a rainbow sweater on her lap.
"No." Turning away, cause I'm about done at this point.
"Well, I can see it's been such a hardship... for the family. But, it's nice when you are able to put yourself before anything else, isn't it?"
(inside: You would know, *****) "Hmmm."
I can't win with these people. Worse yet, there were mumbles about my class load. At first someone thought I was only taking one class and acting like I was going to school full time - you know, as if trying to be on par with the working moms. I corrected that with the fact that I took 7 classes last semester, which immediately switched to "Ha, did you even pass?" and I had to restrain myself from shouting my near 4.0 GPA at them (but I did hold back and answered with a simple "yes, I PASSED." *growl*) Still, here was a room full of the closest thing to my peers that I have, and I felt so VERY alone.
I suppose that's why I like the Internet. Not only can I pop online and blog about everything I wished I could say during an experience like this morning (I was polite and professional, I even scratched the poodle behind it's ears) but there are so many people out here, online. People who DO have dreams, ambition (for whatever life holds for them) , and purpose. I'm not lonely online. Just in person.
I filed it in the back of my head for a while and thought on it. It's not often that anything from a commercial catches my attention, much less stays with me. I liked how it sounded, but something about it really, really bothered me. I finally figured out what it was. Minus my husband, I think that's all I have ever done - surrounded myself with people who DON'T have dreams.
What a horrible realization.
I look back to the entire high school episode that I semi-relived last week, and I look at ALL my friends back then - NONE of them ever had a dream. My once upon a time best friend's sole ambition was to stay at home, eat ice cream, and watch soap operas. I remember the day she said that to me, I had been trying to figure out what she wanted to do after high school. I had SO many dreams, so many ideas, that I thought hearing someone else's might offer an interesting perspective. You know, offer some sort of reason for a certain direction.
I thought she was joking when she told me that was all she wanted out of life, but she wasn't. She was from a well off family, and everything. College was already paid for if she wanted it. She didn't. She even said that she would "be willing to have children" if it meant she could stay home with them, ignore them during Days Of Our Lives, and have her ice cream while they just left her alone. Last I heard, that's exactly what she achieved. Welfare covers ice cream and cable, apparently.
The friend I just cut loose, NW, had NO ambition at all, minus having a baby. That's it, nothing beyond that - and it was never about the baby, but her. That's all there ever was. And the rest of the friends? The others just didn't care. They went with the flow of existence, and where ever the wind blew them was where they were going to be. When I think about them, I see life in a dull colorless world, unlived.
I suppose that is why they always thought I was going to run off into the city and be the corporate single girl, conquering the world. At least they saw I had somewhere I needed to go. Granted, I was not sure where that was exactly. Even now, I'm not there yet, I am STILL moving towards something, and I didn't expect to be where I am - though I am not unhappy with it, hard though it is sometimes. Except for one thing; I'm lonely.
When the drama happened way back in high school, I was cut off from everyone. In hindsight, it was good, because I shed those people who were deliberately dragging me down. But the thing was - where the hell were the people who DID have dreams?
Well, they're out achieving them, that's where. At least that's my theory. The whole "a rolling stone gathers no moss" kind of thing. A person with a purpose collects few friends. Do you think that is true? I also wonder if the whole misery loves company thing comes into play too - because when you are moving towards something you have a lot less time to spend miserable and moping about it. Miserable people are not kind to those who are working towards something - that I know to be fact. Something driven home to me on a very confusing level this morning.
Today I went to my children's school to watch a short play my daughter was in. Unfortunately, all the Stepford Wives were there too. But this time, the Stepford Wives had company in their disdain. The other mom's that I used to get along with reasonably well sat cattily off to themselves with lots of looks and low voices. I found that a bit odd, but OK, fine. I haven't been around much since I went back to school - I think this is the first play I have been able to attend this school year, actually. No, wait - I made it for the tail end of one other. (Yeah, OK, I suck. I'm bad-mommy now. Even the working mom's make it to every single darn play the kids put on.)
One finally called over from four seats away and asked "how things were going." Fine, I said. "Nice that you could make it here today, no other plans?"
*teeth clenching* "No, not until Wednesday."
"Wednesday?" Every one of the women around me watching me.
"Yes, the semester starts then."
"Oh, you haven't given that up yet? School, I mean." This from the woman holding the two pound poodle in a rainbow sweater on her lap.
"No." Turning away, cause I'm about done at this point.
"Well, I can see it's been such a hardship... for the family. But, it's nice when you are able to put yourself before anything else, isn't it?"
(inside: You would know, *****) "Hmmm."
I can't win with these people. Worse yet, there were mumbles about my class load. At first someone thought I was only taking one class and acting like I was going to school full time - you know, as if trying to be on par with the working moms. I corrected that with the fact that I took 7 classes last semester, which immediately switched to "Ha, did you even pass?" and I had to restrain myself from shouting my near 4.0 GPA at them (but I did hold back and answered with a simple "yes, I PASSED." *growl*) Still, here was a room full of the closest thing to my peers that I have, and I felt so VERY alone.
I suppose that's why I like the Internet. Not only can I pop online and blog about everything I wished I could say during an experience like this morning (I was polite and professional, I even scratched the poodle behind it's ears) but there are so many people out here, online. People who DO have dreams, ambition (for whatever life holds for them) , and purpose. I'm not lonely online. Just in person.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Nightmare
I think I may have permanently damaged my son. I am pretty sure I added at least six months to his therapy sessions when he's an adult, and that I took about 10 years off my own life.
Last night my son asked which one of us he should wake up when he gets up. You see, on weekends, Mr. Savy and I take turns sleeping in. As I need to get up to workout on Sundays (and early is better than later) I told me son to wake me. My daughter is over at a sleep-over, so it's extra quiet and I can't just tell the two of them to go play while mommy gets another round of coma-style snoozing in.
Usually I wake at the smallest sound. Anything at all that isn't the "normal quiet" has me springing from the bed completely alert. It's something that completely baffles Mr. Savy, who sleeps through earthquakes, rock concerts, conversations... I am pretty sure it came with the pregnancy hormones and then never left. Yep, another Mommy-Super-Power.
Well, last night was different. At 4 a.m. my stupid, stupid, annoying (ARGH!!!) dogs decided to get up. pace. pace. pace. whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinne. pace. YAWWWWWWWN. jingle collars. pace. pace. pace. come in to look at me. pace. pace. pant. pant. pace. bump into things and make them crash to the floor and act innocent. PANT. PANT. YAWWWWWWN!. pace. WHIIIIIINNE. pace....
ALRIGHT! DAMMIT! You can go outside you stupid @$%#%$#%$!!!
So I dragged myself down stairs and threw the stupid dogs outside, but I had to sit there and wait 15 minutes for them to come back, because as mad as I am at them, I still don't want them to get eaten by coyotes, wolves or mountain lions. So I sat there with my nose pressed to the front windows mumbling about how I let the idiots outside last night at midnight, and there was no darn reason they should be up at this time now, and what the hell was taking so long?
They finally came back, and I locked them in the garage just in case they had any more brilliant ideas to rouse the house. I stumbled back to bed and contemplated the clock and whether I should just get up now and work out. I then did the mental calculations and figured I would be in big trouble if I started the day on only three and a half hours of sleep, and promptly went back into snoozeville.
I submit my stupid dogs to you as my only possible excuse. They must have caused a disruption in my super powers. Because, I never heard my son get up. I never heard him climb down his ladder from his bed, which usually makes enough of a racket to wake even Mr. Savy. I never heard him wander down the hallway. I never heard him come into my room. I never heard him walk up to my bed. I never heard him lean over.
But I did feel his hand on my arm and opened my eyes to find HIS eyes not an inch from mine.
I screamed.
My son jumped. Mr. Savy fell off the other side of the bed. Apparently his state of total sleep oblivion doesn't extend to sleeping through a wife screaming.
My poor son looked absolutely shocked. Once my adrenalin fried brain processed that it was my precious son and not a giant blue eyeball in front of me (hey, he was THAT close!) I started laughing and hugged him.
My son relaxed pretty quick, but he looked at me and said "Mommy, you TOLD me to wake you, remember?" He had that look on his face that clearly said "I'm related to THIS?"
*sigh*
Mr. Savy finally spoke from his position on the floor on the other side of the bed. "So, honey, you uh... wanna go back to sleep now? Cause. Um. I'm awake."
Far be it for me to turn down an offer to sleep in! Now I know the secret to getting Mr. Savy out of bed. I just have to scream! This information will be very useful in the future, I'm thinking. Now, I have to go play a massive round of Lego Star Wars 2 to make sure my son doesn't think I'm a raving lunatic.
Last night my son asked which one of us he should wake up when he gets up. You see, on weekends, Mr. Savy and I take turns sleeping in. As I need to get up to workout on Sundays (and early is better than later) I told me son to wake me. My daughter is over at a sleep-over, so it's extra quiet and I can't just tell the two of them to go play while mommy gets another round of coma-style snoozing in.
Usually I wake at the smallest sound. Anything at all that isn't the "normal quiet" has me springing from the bed completely alert. It's something that completely baffles Mr. Savy, who sleeps through earthquakes, rock concerts, conversations... I am pretty sure it came with the pregnancy hormones and then never left. Yep, another Mommy-Super-Power.
Well, last night was different. At 4 a.m. my stupid, stupid, annoying (ARGH!!!) dogs decided to get up. pace. pace. pace. whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinne. pace. YAWWWWWWWN. jingle collars. pace. pace. pace. come in to look at me. pace. pace. pant. pant. pace. bump into things and make them crash to the floor and act innocent. PANT. PANT. YAWWWWWWN!. pace. WHIIIIIINNE. pace....
ALRIGHT! DAMMIT! You can go outside you stupid @$%#%$#%$!!!
So I dragged myself down stairs and threw the stupid dogs outside, but I had to sit there and wait 15 minutes for them to come back, because as mad as I am at them, I still don't want them to get eaten by coyotes, wolves or mountain lions. So I sat there with my nose pressed to the front windows mumbling about how I let the idiots outside last night at midnight, and there was no darn reason they should be up at this time now, and what the hell was taking so long?
They finally came back, and I locked them in the garage just in case they had any more brilliant ideas to rouse the house. I stumbled back to bed and contemplated the clock and whether I should just get up now and work out. I then did the mental calculations and figured I would be in big trouble if I started the day on only three and a half hours of sleep, and promptly went back into snoozeville.
I submit my stupid dogs to you as my only possible excuse. They must have caused a disruption in my super powers. Because, I never heard my son get up. I never heard him climb down his ladder from his bed, which usually makes enough of a racket to wake even Mr. Savy. I never heard him wander down the hallway. I never heard him come into my room. I never heard him walk up to my bed. I never heard him lean over.
But I did feel his hand on my arm and opened my eyes to find HIS eyes not an inch from mine.
I screamed.
My son jumped. Mr. Savy fell off the other side of the bed. Apparently his state of total sleep oblivion doesn't extend to sleeping through a wife screaming.
My poor son looked absolutely shocked. Once my adrenalin fried brain processed that it was my precious son and not a giant blue eyeball in front of me (hey, he was THAT close!) I started laughing and hugged him.
My son relaxed pretty quick, but he looked at me and said "Mommy, you TOLD me to wake you, remember?" He had that look on his face that clearly said "I'm related to THIS?"
*sigh*
Mr. Savy finally spoke from his position on the floor on the other side of the bed. "So, honey, you uh... wanna go back to sleep now? Cause. Um. I'm awake."
Far be it for me to turn down an offer to sleep in! Now I know the secret to getting Mr. Savy out of bed. I just have to scream! This information will be very useful in the future, I'm thinking. Now, I have to go play a massive round of Lego Star Wars 2 to make sure my son doesn't think I'm a raving lunatic.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Paintdrops on Roses
Usually when I am covered in paint, it's of the oil variety. On this two week break/vacation, unfortunately, I have been no where near my studio. Remember my post about the furniture we ordered? Well that was supposed to come at the end of February, and instead they called us yesterday and said "Hi, we'll be there on Tuesday!" So instead of just getting around to painting the study like we had intended, this weekend has become an all out paint-fest.
We pulled out all the furniture, and draped the floors. I'm literally typing on a chair right now - the computer is balanced on two of my kitchen chairs. I have books stashed in every conceivable spot in my house. I have tripped over several towers of books twice, and as they were school books, I was rather irritated about the whole ordeal. The dogs are wandering around looking at us like we have lost our minds - and apparently we have, because we let the kids continue on with their plans for a play date this weekend. More kids! More Stress! Bring it ON!!!
It hasn't been as easy as I thought it would be. It turns out that when you have a burgundy colored wall, it takes a LOT of paint to bring it back to a neutral white color - and primer smells HORRIBLE! And then you have to paint it the color you are intending it to be. We're on our fourth coat of paint altogether right now. Probably high as kites off the fumes as well. Hey, there had to be an upside, right?
I'm happy to report that I was not the one who dumped over the paint can this time! I feel as though I am moving up in the world! The last time we painted I accidentally set my entire foot into a can of paint *sigh*. But this time Mr. Savy managed to spill a HUGE amount of it across the plastic. I plan on gloating. Profusely. He hasn't let me live down the foot thing in all these months.
Other than that, not much is happening. Oh, NW did write back to my "farewell" email. In short her parting shot was that I'm a horrible person and it's good she knows that now. The upside to that is that I don't feel guilty any longer. Her showing her true colors helped a lot.
I hope everyone is having a wonderful weekend!
We pulled out all the furniture, and draped the floors. I'm literally typing on a chair right now - the computer is balanced on two of my kitchen chairs. I have books stashed in every conceivable spot in my house. I have tripped over several towers of books twice, and as they were school books, I was rather irritated about the whole ordeal. The dogs are wandering around looking at us like we have lost our minds - and apparently we have, because we let the kids continue on with their plans for a play date this weekend. More kids! More Stress! Bring it ON!!!
It hasn't been as easy as I thought it would be. It turns out that when you have a burgundy colored wall, it takes a LOT of paint to bring it back to a neutral white color - and primer smells HORRIBLE! And then you have to paint it the color you are intending it to be. We're on our fourth coat of paint altogether right now. Probably high as kites off the fumes as well. Hey, there had to be an upside, right?
I'm happy to report that I was not the one who dumped over the paint can this time! I feel as though I am moving up in the world! The last time we painted I accidentally set my entire foot into a can of paint *sigh*. But this time Mr. Savy managed to spill a HUGE amount of it across the plastic. I plan on gloating. Profusely. He hasn't let me live down the foot thing in all these months.
Other than that, not much is happening. Oh, NW did write back to my "farewell" email. In short her parting shot was that I'm a horrible person and it's good she knows that now. The upside to that is that I don't feel guilty any longer. Her showing her true colors helped a lot.
I hope everyone is having a wonderful weekend!
Thursday, January 11, 2007
School Yard Witch
Well, I did it.
I wrote that old friend (NW), after she wrote back today. I had emailed her to ask why she had suddenly sought contact after all this time, and she was VERY defensive about it. I didn't address her email at all, I think I already knew the answer.
I talked to my husband about my email I was writing back trying to sever this tie (which was growing exponentially in length the more I tried to fix it.) He was brutally honest and said "It's not fair to use her for closure to your nightmare high school experience."
Ouch.
True, mind you, but ouch just the same. I was being nice, and trying to explain why I wasn't trying to hurt her and why things would be best apart, etc. The truth is that all my reasons I had listed were exactly that - finding closure to the nightmare episode of my past. So, I deleted all of it, told her we're two very different people now, wished her all the best and said good bye.
I have this horrible twisting feeling in my stomach, with a guilty voice nagging me inside telling me I am the nasty school yard snot who refuses to be friends with others because she is such a witch. I know that isn't true... mostly. I know I am healthier without her in my life. I know I am healthier laying the nightmare into the past behind me as well (whether she is aware of it or not, she IS still closure in a very real way for me.)
The interesting thing is, she really is the last tiny tie to my past. I have no intention of ever going to a high school reunion, or visiting any of those people in my past. High school is best stored away (because it can't be forgotten) in a dark, dank corner where it can't hurt anyone anymore. At least MINE is. What happened back then was really big. It damaged me in ways I cannot express, so this is a really big deal - "closing the book on it" so to speak. I really AM a different person than I was back then. But things still hurt the same way.
I want to thank everyone for their support. It honestly helped me a lot. I realized I wasn't wrong in thinking I should do this (Mr. Savy is great, but sometimes you need to hear from people who aren't legally obligated to tell you what you want to hear.) I just wish I didn't feel so horribly, down to my soul, sad right now.
I wrote that old friend (NW), after she wrote back today. I had emailed her to ask why she had suddenly sought contact after all this time, and she was VERY defensive about it. I didn't address her email at all, I think I already knew the answer.
I talked to my husband about my email I was writing back trying to sever this tie (which was growing exponentially in length the more I tried to fix it.) He was brutally honest and said "It's not fair to use her for closure to your nightmare high school experience."
Ouch.
True, mind you, but ouch just the same. I was being nice, and trying to explain why I wasn't trying to hurt her and why things would be best apart, etc. The truth is that all my reasons I had listed were exactly that - finding closure to the nightmare episode of my past. So, I deleted all of it, told her we're two very different people now, wished her all the best and said good bye.
I have this horrible twisting feeling in my stomach, with a guilty voice nagging me inside telling me I am the nasty school yard snot who refuses to be friends with others because she is such a witch. I know that isn't true... mostly. I know I am healthier without her in my life. I know I am healthier laying the nightmare into the past behind me as well (whether she is aware of it or not, she IS still closure in a very real way for me.)
The interesting thing is, she really is the last tiny tie to my past. I have no intention of ever going to a high school reunion, or visiting any of those people in my past. High school is best stored away (because it can't be forgotten) in a dark, dank corner where it can't hurt anyone anymore. At least MINE is. What happened back then was really big. It damaged me in ways I cannot express, so this is a really big deal - "closing the book on it" so to speak. I really AM a different person than I was back then. But things still hurt the same way.
I want to thank everyone for their support. It honestly helped me a lot. I realized I wasn't wrong in thinking I should do this (Mr. Savy is great, but sometimes you need to hear from people who aren't legally obligated to tell you what you want to hear.) I just wish I didn't feel so horribly, down to my soul, sad right now.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Toon Me, Baby!
A wee bit of business first. Thank you for all the comments on my blog yesterday. I'm going to cut NW loose, one way or the other. I did email her to ask WHY she decided to start contact with me again after all these years. We'll see what she says, just because the curiosity is killing me. THEN I'll end it.
I received a couple emails saying that people thought the "video blog" was neat, and they'd like to see another one. Unfortunately, I can't come up with anything I could successfully talk about on camera. So, I thought I would throw this out there: If you want to email me a couple questions or ideas about whatever you would like to know (savyart@gmail.com, behave yourselves), I'll answer the top three and see how that works on camera. Assuming I'm not a complete dork in it, I'll even post the video.
Now, for a serious question:
Am I the only adult who still likes cartoons?
When I was a kid, the only cartoons all week long came on during Saturday mornings. It's not like today where they're on 24 hours a day, on several channels. I used to look forward to Saturdays with a heightened anticipation eclipsed only by major holidays.
I, the wonder-sleeper from the 105th dimension, would actually set my alarm and get up at... well, the earliest I possibly could. The first cartoon aired at 4:30 a.m. (yes, I was allowed to get up that early, being that I lacked parental supervision from time I was six years old on.) I made it up that early a couple of times, but more often hit it around 6:30 a.m., much to my disappointment. Still, I LOVED it.
From Garfield onward I watched every single cartoon, all the way until every channel had flipped over to news, or something else equally annoying and adult-like. The very last thing I could squeeze in was the CBS storybook show. No one seems to remember that show, but I can recall almost every one. I would then float through the day with a sort of foggy contentment that only a kid could possibly have after four hours of television.
Later on in life, I was a teenager when Pinky & The Brain came out. Boy did I love that show. Animaniacs had their good points. But then, nothing for YEARS!
I was SO disappointed to see the kind of cartoons they had out when my kids were born. I was really looking forward to using them as an excuse to watch... er, I mean spending time with the mini-me's in loving parental activities. *ahem* Instead, there was an avalanche of horrid shows from Blue's Clues to The Wiggles. On the newly minted cartoon network were all the old Tom & Jerry's, but...well, been there, seen that.
For a while, it was pretty dismal in cartoon land. But then, over the past... hmm, two or three years? They have come out with some real winners.
My husband loves Jimmy Neutron (big shocker there, they had him at the tin-mut's name of Goddard.) I have to admit, I really enjoy that one too. I am worried that my husband may try to build a robot dog that blows itself up though. Seems right up his alley, doesn't it? And one of the characters has a weird obsession with llamas... and his teacher.
My hands down, favorite, I'd watch it even without the kids around, is The Fairly Odd Parents. If you haven't seen it, you ought to watch an episode - the parents alone are worth it. So many of the quips go right over my kid's heads, but send my husband and I into laughing fits. You don't need kids around to appreciate the show.
Between those two and a handful of others, I finally feel like I have my cartoons back. I guess when I get called juvenile, I'm just going to have to take it gracefully and admit it.
I received a couple emails saying that people thought the "video blog" was neat, and they'd like to see another one. Unfortunately, I can't come up with anything I could successfully talk about on camera. So, I thought I would throw this out there: If you want to email me a couple questions or ideas about whatever you would like to know (savyart@gmail.com, behave yourselves), I'll answer the top three and see how that works on camera. Assuming I'm not a complete dork in it, I'll even post the video.
Now, for a serious question:
Am I the only adult who still likes cartoons?
When I was a kid, the only cartoons all week long came on during Saturday mornings. It's not like today where they're on 24 hours a day, on several channels. I used to look forward to Saturdays with a heightened anticipation eclipsed only by major holidays.
I, the wonder-sleeper from the 105th dimension, would actually set my alarm and get up at... well, the earliest I possibly could. The first cartoon aired at 4:30 a.m. (yes, I was allowed to get up that early, being that I lacked parental supervision from time I was six years old on.) I made it up that early a couple of times, but more often hit it around 6:30 a.m., much to my disappointment. Still, I LOVED it.
From Garfield onward I watched every single cartoon, all the way until every channel had flipped over to news, or something else equally annoying and adult-like. The very last thing I could squeeze in was the CBS storybook show. No one seems to remember that show, but I can recall almost every one. I would then float through the day with a sort of foggy contentment that only a kid could possibly have after four hours of television.
Later on in life, I was a teenager when Pinky & The Brain came out. Boy did I love that show. Animaniacs had their good points. But then, nothing for YEARS!
I was SO disappointed to see the kind of cartoons they had out when my kids were born. I was really looking forward to using them as an excuse to watch... er, I mean spending time with the mini-me's in loving parental activities. *ahem* Instead, there was an avalanche of horrid shows from Blue's Clues to The Wiggles. On the newly minted cartoon network were all the old Tom & Jerry's, but...well, been there, seen that.
For a while, it was pretty dismal in cartoon land. But then, over the past... hmm, two or three years? They have come out with some real winners.My husband loves Jimmy Neutron (big shocker there, they had him at the tin-mut's name of Goddard.) I have to admit, I really enjoy that one too. I am worried that my husband may try to build a robot dog that blows itself up though. Seems right up his alley, doesn't it? And one of the characters has a weird obsession with llamas... and his teacher.
My hands down, favorite, I'd watch it even without the kids around, is The Fairly Odd Parents. If you haven't seen it, you ought to watch an episode - the parents alone are worth it. So many of the quips go right over my kid's heads, but send my husband and I into laughing fits. You don't need kids around to appreciate the show.Between those two and a handful of others, I finally feel like I have my cartoons back. I guess when I get called juvenile, I'm just going to have to take it gracefully and admit it.
Judgementalism
This is a serious post, but this is driving me batty right now. Feedback, even feedback contrary to my own opinions as long as it's not put in an attacking way, is most appreciated.
I have a person who has recently come back into my life, and she is a walking Bermuda-Triangle. I am sure we all know someone like this? For now, we'll call her NW.
NW entered my life in the seventh grade. She was a mess, even then - but we became friends. In high school NW became that not so pretty, obese and unpopular girl who would sleep with anyone, and admitted openly (to her girl friends, not the guys) that she was trying to get pregnant - which drove me insane! (It is beyond me why someone would WANT to be a teenage mother.) She didn't succeed.
We fell out of each other's good graces in high school when a massive bit of drama happened, that became very vicious against me. NW went on with her string of horrid boy friends (some of which were 20 years older) and dropped out of high school. A couple of years later, out of the blue, I recieved a call where I had to go and pick her up from a safe-house. I don't know why NW called me, out of everyone she knew - as we hadn't even laid eyes on each other in all that time. Still, I went. I will not turn someone down when they're in trouble like that. Mayhap that is why she called me.
So, we had a tentative relationship from that point forward. I watched NW get married to a moron - still always trying to get pregnant. She got divorced, turned rather hateful towards me, and eventually we lost contact again. In my opinion it was no real loss.
And now, again - she has popped up out of the blue. It's been several years again. She did manage to get her GED a little while ago. She just had a "new man" move in. She goes on and on about how she is trying to have a baby. She went on to say how she doesn't want to pressure the relationship with the man with the idea of marriage - but the baby is ok.
Reading through this letter from her gave me an immediate migraine (it might have been more my banging my head on my desk repeatedly than the letter, but who is to say?) Nothing has changed for this woman since the seventh grade. Since I didn't have anything to lose, and felt really strongly about the whole thing, I did write back and politely mentioned how I didn't think having a baby is a good idea - as you need to provide the best environment you can for a child when you have the choice, as she so clearly did right now.
And why on earth would marriage pressure a relationship, but a baby wouldn't? Am I the only person who thinks that sounds insane?!!!?! Not to mention this is a woman who has never managed to take care of herself properly, her education, her relationships, her health - anything. EVER.
The response was that you "do things different when you are almost 32 years old, childless, and single." NW went on to elaborate that at her age, if you want kids you need to do it now - no matter what. I couldn't believe it. NW further justified this position because she has medical issues which make it difficult for her to get pregnant (hence why she was unsuccessful for all those years.) She is even seeing a fertility doctor now. Besides, she was always the "maternal" one according to her, not like me - whom everyone thought would be the single, childless, career girl in New York or something.
I have always been patient with her before this, but the whole idea of this woman having children in this manner, into that life, drives me nuts. She is right that she always liked kids, and I wasn't too fond of them growing up. To be honest, I had only held a baby ONCE before I held my own. I was always afriad the mother would get mad at me for holding it wrong. Plus the babies stank and spit up and well... Kids always liked me, and I was nice to them, but I never sought them out. But the thing is, liking kids does NOT mean you are maternal or would make a great parent.
My own mother loved children - but was not maternal towards us. She was a wonderful nurse for chidlren's hospital on their under 12 psych-ward. When she was out here she admitted the reason she chose that job was that there were so many kids who needed her to "love them". Never mind the fact that she worked 60-80 hour weeks, weird schedules, and my brother and I were left on our own at a very young age. She loved kids, but she liked being able to "leave them at the office", as it were. (This was a rather painful revelation this Christmas, by the way.)
NW then went on to subtly attack me and imply that I had my "wonderful life" just handed to me, and that she was the maternal one who deserved two children, not me. She felt that I didn't deserve the life I have. She was delighted to hear I was back in college - because she could point out that I am doing it way behind schedule (never mind my other degree, and chosen fields and reasons for where I am at.) She even lectured me about it. This woman who has never taken a college course in her life. (Sorry, that part just irritated the hell out of me.) All of this was done in a round about way, mind you, nice and subtle. Almost jokingly, but clearly deadly serious too. I know she means it as she had said similar things in the past.
My own kids were planned. A decision we conciously made. Yes, I was lucky that I turned out to be fertile myrtle and never struggled with having a baby. I have been in bad and abusive realtionships too, before my husband, but I made a concious decision to fix my life and NOT end up in that place. But that was me.
So, I guess my question is, am I being too judgmental of her? Is she right?
I think back to all the friendships I had as a kid. We never judged each other. We may have fought over barbies or roller skates, but those eventually worked their way out and everyone still hung out with each other. The older I became, the more I started to develop opinions on things. When they were strong enough (like say, on not trying to become a teen-age mother - I don't have anything against teen mothers, but I do have something against trying to become one on purpose) they put me at odds with those who held opposing views.
Now I have really strong opinions. So strong and steadfast am I in these, that I have no patience. Maybe I really am a judgmental witch.
Anyway, I really thought NW would stop writing when I sent that letter expressing my opinion on her trying to have a baby. But she wrote back after a week with this beauty of an email. I have not really cut off friends/exfriends before, and I think my life is better without NW in it. I feel like such a witch even thinking that. But I'm not sure how to go about doing it. Or if I am wrong to do so or even be thinking it.
So. Ideas? Thoughts? Feedback (be nice, disagree, but be nice.) *sigh* I know this is likely a touchy, too much information post. But well... I figured the vast knowledge of the net-world is a good place to post it and figure it out, because I don't feel as though I have.
I have a person who has recently come back into my life, and she is a walking Bermuda-Triangle. I am sure we all know someone like this? For now, we'll call her NW.
NW entered my life in the seventh grade. She was a mess, even then - but we became friends. In high school NW became that not so pretty, obese and unpopular girl who would sleep with anyone, and admitted openly (to her girl friends, not the guys) that she was trying to get pregnant - which drove me insane! (It is beyond me why someone would WANT to be a teenage mother.) She didn't succeed.
We fell out of each other's good graces in high school when a massive bit of drama happened, that became very vicious against me. NW went on with her string of horrid boy friends (some of which were 20 years older) and dropped out of high school. A couple of years later, out of the blue, I recieved a call where I had to go and pick her up from a safe-house. I don't know why NW called me, out of everyone she knew - as we hadn't even laid eyes on each other in all that time. Still, I went. I will not turn someone down when they're in trouble like that. Mayhap that is why she called me.
So, we had a tentative relationship from that point forward. I watched NW get married to a moron - still always trying to get pregnant. She got divorced, turned rather hateful towards me, and eventually we lost contact again. In my opinion it was no real loss.
And now, again - she has popped up out of the blue. It's been several years again. She did manage to get her GED a little while ago. She just had a "new man" move in. She goes on and on about how she is trying to have a baby. She went on to say how she doesn't want to pressure the relationship with the man with the idea of marriage - but the baby is ok.
Reading through this letter from her gave me an immediate migraine (it might have been more my banging my head on my desk repeatedly than the letter, but who is to say?) Nothing has changed for this woman since the seventh grade. Since I didn't have anything to lose, and felt really strongly about the whole thing, I did write back and politely mentioned how I didn't think having a baby is a good idea - as you need to provide the best environment you can for a child when you have the choice, as she so clearly did right now.
And why on earth would marriage pressure a relationship, but a baby wouldn't? Am I the only person who thinks that sounds insane?!!!?! Not to mention this is a woman who has never managed to take care of herself properly, her education, her relationships, her health - anything. EVER.
The response was that you "do things different when you are almost 32 years old, childless, and single." NW went on to elaborate that at her age, if you want kids you need to do it now - no matter what. I couldn't believe it. NW further justified this position because she has medical issues which make it difficult for her to get pregnant (hence why she was unsuccessful for all those years.) She is even seeing a fertility doctor now. Besides, she was always the "maternal" one according to her, not like me - whom everyone thought would be the single, childless, career girl in New York or something.
I have always been patient with her before this, but the whole idea of this woman having children in this manner, into that life, drives me nuts. She is right that she always liked kids, and I wasn't too fond of them growing up. To be honest, I had only held a baby ONCE before I held my own. I was always afriad the mother would get mad at me for holding it wrong. Plus the babies stank and spit up and well... Kids always liked me, and I was nice to them, but I never sought them out. But the thing is, liking kids does NOT mean you are maternal or would make a great parent.
My own mother loved children - but was not maternal towards us. She was a wonderful nurse for chidlren's hospital on their under 12 psych-ward. When she was out here she admitted the reason she chose that job was that there were so many kids who needed her to "love them". Never mind the fact that she worked 60-80 hour weeks, weird schedules, and my brother and I were left on our own at a very young age. She loved kids, but she liked being able to "leave them at the office", as it were. (This was a rather painful revelation this Christmas, by the way.)
NW then went on to subtly attack me and imply that I had my "wonderful life" just handed to me, and that she was the maternal one who deserved two children, not me. She felt that I didn't deserve the life I have. She was delighted to hear I was back in college - because she could point out that I am doing it way behind schedule (never mind my other degree, and chosen fields and reasons for where I am at.) She even lectured me about it. This woman who has never taken a college course in her life. (Sorry, that part just irritated the hell out of me.) All of this was done in a round about way, mind you, nice and subtle. Almost jokingly, but clearly deadly serious too. I know she means it as she had said similar things in the past.
My own kids were planned. A decision we conciously made. Yes, I was lucky that I turned out to be fertile myrtle and never struggled with having a baby. I have been in bad and abusive realtionships too, before my husband, but I made a concious decision to fix my life and NOT end up in that place. But that was me.
So, I guess my question is, am I being too judgmental of her? Is she right?
I think back to all the friendships I had as a kid. We never judged each other. We may have fought over barbies or roller skates, but those eventually worked their way out and everyone still hung out with each other. The older I became, the more I started to develop opinions on things. When they were strong enough (like say, on not trying to become a teen-age mother - I don't have anything against teen mothers, but I do have something against trying to become one on purpose) they put me at odds with those who held opposing views.
Now I have really strong opinions. So strong and steadfast am I in these, that I have no patience. Maybe I really am a judgmental witch.
Anyway, I really thought NW would stop writing when I sent that letter expressing my opinion on her trying to have a baby. But she wrote back after a week with this beauty of an email. I have not really cut off friends/exfriends before, and I think my life is better without NW in it. I feel like such a witch even thinking that. But I'm not sure how to go about doing it. Or if I am wrong to do so or even be thinking it.
So. Ideas? Thoughts? Feedback (be nice, disagree, but be nice.) *sigh* I know this is likely a touchy, too much information post. But well... I figured the vast knowledge of the net-world is a good place to post it and figure it out, because I don't feel as though I have.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Equipment Malfunction
That was what my husband called it when he came to me last evening with tears in his eyes.
"Equipment malfunction?" I said, very confused. Immediately, my mind jumped to the equipment he used at work, considering he had just arrived home. I started looking him over, seeing if there was blood or other signs of injury. Finding none, I was worried someone had blown themselves up at work, or lit the fuel lab on fire - AGAIN - (rocket scientists are at their most dangerous when they're actually trying to do their jobs. Or knitting.) "What do you mean equipment malfunction???"
Mr. Savy looked down and sighed in a sort of depressed manner, similar to the way my Labrador does when we favor the cat over him. He then puffed out his cheeks, raised his eyes and thrust his pelvis forward while pointing and exclaimed "THIS!"
Now, admittedly, my mind is as dirty as anyone else's (OK, OK, dirtier) , so it took me a moment of pondering exactly what he meant to figure it out. After stifling various comments and jokes, I realized he was pointing to the top of his business slacks. Slacks that were very clearly missing a button. Now, as I haven't been engaging in ripping off his trouser buttons with my teeth recently (all the damn sewing was becoming annoying,) I knew that this was what he had been referring to - and that it wasn't my fault (it's crucial to know whether you are in trouble or not at all times.)
After a moment to collect myself, I managed to choke out "I...I think you mean wardrobe malfunction. *cough-giggle* NOT equipment malfunction...."
A blank look, and then a frown "Same thing!"
"I believe Janet Jackson and the FCC would beg to differ." I couldn't stop myself from giggling in a mildly hysterical way at this point. Truly, I am amazed I lasted that long.
"Oh come on! Honey! It was horrible! I went to work, noticing they were a bit tight. But when I sat down.. oh it was awful... When I sat down *sniffle*... T-t-t-t-they just... JUST POPPED! I think I even heard it ping as it ricocheted off my desk! I almost cried!"
While digging for sympathy, the first thing that ran through my mind was "Hark! I sense a blog entry coming on!" (obviously.)
The second was "He had better not find out about the blog entry, he'll kill me."
The third, fourth, fifth and sixth were too unlady-like to repeat, but you have to admit this situation lends itself to near endless fodder for all sorts of jokes.
The final, and seventh thing was the image of my husband guzzling eggnog and stuffing down copious amounts of holiday goodies for the last eight weeks, and a small feeling of satisfaction from noting that not all men are not immune to the "Holiday Fat Fairy".
OK, I'm evil. I know. My sympathy genes must run a bit on the low side. The upside to all of this, besides my endless amusement, is that he is 100% on the healthy-eating band wagon again. We'll see how long it lasts, but I have never seen him like this. Depressed and upset over what his body is doing in reaction to a diet of eggnog, fudge, beer, chips, pizza and sausage. It'll be a nice change to have him eat a healthy meal with me, instead of munching on ice cream and pie while I am there with my macro-balanced meal.
He even went for a run last night. Will wonders never cease?
Oh, and for the record, I made him sew his own darn button on himself. His "equipment malfunction" *giggle* his problem. I guess this gets me an F in the loving wife category.
"Equipment malfunction?" I said, very confused. Immediately, my mind jumped to the equipment he used at work, considering he had just arrived home. I started looking him over, seeing if there was blood or other signs of injury. Finding none, I was worried someone had blown themselves up at work, or lit the fuel lab on fire - AGAIN - (rocket scientists are at their most dangerous when they're actually trying to do their jobs. Or knitting.) "What do you mean equipment malfunction???"
Mr. Savy looked down and sighed in a sort of depressed manner, similar to the way my Labrador does when we favor the cat over him. He then puffed out his cheeks, raised his eyes and thrust his pelvis forward while pointing and exclaimed "THIS!"
Now, admittedly, my mind is as dirty as anyone else's (OK, OK, dirtier) , so it took me a moment of pondering exactly what he meant to figure it out. After stifling various comments and jokes, I realized he was pointing to the top of his business slacks. Slacks that were very clearly missing a button. Now, as I haven't been engaging in ripping off his trouser buttons with my teeth recently (all the damn sewing was becoming annoying,) I knew that this was what he had been referring to - and that it wasn't my fault (it's crucial to know whether you are in trouble or not at all times.)
After a moment to collect myself, I managed to choke out "I...I think you mean wardrobe malfunction. *cough-giggle* NOT equipment malfunction...."
A blank look, and then a frown "Same thing!"
"I believe Janet Jackson and the FCC would beg to differ." I couldn't stop myself from giggling in a mildly hysterical way at this point. Truly, I am amazed I lasted that long.
"Oh come on! Honey! It was horrible! I went to work, noticing they were a bit tight. But when I sat down.. oh it was awful... When I sat down *sniffle*... T-t-t-t-they just... JUST POPPED! I think I even heard it ping as it ricocheted off my desk! I almost cried!"
While digging for sympathy, the first thing that ran through my mind was "Hark! I sense a blog entry coming on!" (obviously.)
The second was "He had better not find out about the blog entry, he'll kill me."
The third, fourth, fifth and sixth were too unlady-like to repeat, but you have to admit this situation lends itself to near endless fodder for all sorts of jokes.
The final, and seventh thing was the image of my husband guzzling eggnog and stuffing down copious amounts of holiday goodies for the last eight weeks, and a small feeling of satisfaction from noting that not all men are not immune to the "Holiday Fat Fairy".
OK, I'm evil. I know. My sympathy genes must run a bit on the low side. The upside to all of this, besides my endless amusement, is that he is 100% on the healthy-eating band wagon again. We'll see how long it lasts, but I have never seen him like this. Depressed and upset over what his body is doing in reaction to a diet of eggnog, fudge, beer, chips, pizza and sausage. It'll be a nice change to have him eat a healthy meal with me, instead of munching on ice cream and pie while I am there with my macro-balanced meal.
He even went for a run last night. Will wonders never cease?
Oh, and for the record, I made him sew his own darn button on himself. His "equipment malfunction" *giggle* his problem. I guess this gets me an F in the loving wife category.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Sleep and Possibilities
This morning it is incredibly dark. The clouds are heavy, the wind is whistling through the cracks in the windowsill, and the rain is speckling against the glass. It is the perfect day to sleep in until tomorrow.
My kids crawled into bed with me after Mr. Savy woke everyone up and said he was leaving for work. We all sort of nodded like we understood, and the next thing I knew I woke up to snoring (my son takes after Mr. Savy) and saw that it was 45 minutes later. I know it makes me an "almost" bad mommy, but I seriously considered just letting everyone sleep and snuggling with them all day instead of sending them off to school.
Instead, "Mean" mommy won out, and I managed to shove everyone out of bed and off in the right directions to get ready for school. I never told my kids I had considered a snugly day, but they looked at me as if they knew and were very disappointed in me. I thought I was supposed to be the mind reader, not them?
Speaking of children, I had a long "chat" with my daughter and I finally figured out WHY going back and being a kid is so appealing (minus the lack of responsibilities.) It's all because there is a world of possibilities. When you were a kid, everyone still told you that you could be anything you wanted, do anything you set your mind to. Remember that?
It's been a LONG time since anyone said anything like that to me. I think people worry about saying things like that to adults, because they might go crazy, sell their house, and start auditioning for a nude Las Vegas showgirls stage-show. And that's just the men.
Well, there you have it. My Monday Epiphany. Eventually I'll figure out the meaning of life, and then I won't know what to do with myself on Mondays.
My kids crawled into bed with me after Mr. Savy woke everyone up and said he was leaving for work. We all sort of nodded like we understood, and the next thing I knew I woke up to snoring (my son takes after Mr. Savy) and saw that it was 45 minutes later. I know it makes me an "almost" bad mommy, but I seriously considered just letting everyone sleep and snuggling with them all day instead of sending them off to school.
Instead, "Mean" mommy won out, and I managed to shove everyone out of bed and off in the right directions to get ready for school. I never told my kids I had considered a snugly day, but they looked at me as if they knew and were very disappointed in me. I thought I was supposed to be the mind reader, not them?
Speaking of children, I had a long "chat" with my daughter and I finally figured out WHY going back and being a kid is so appealing (minus the lack of responsibilities.) It's all because there is a world of possibilities. When you were a kid, everyone still told you that you could be anything you wanted, do anything you set your mind to. Remember that?
It's been a LONG time since anyone said anything like that to me. I think people worry about saying things like that to adults, because they might go crazy, sell their house, and start auditioning for a nude Las Vegas showgirls stage-show. And that's just the men.
Well, there you have it. My Monday Epiphany. Eventually I'll figure out the meaning of life, and then I won't know what to do with myself on Mondays.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Define "Hell"
The person who invented this song should be shot. Teaching it to children should be considered a capital crime.
"This is the song that never ends.... yes it goes on and on my friend.
Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was,
and now they'll go on singing it forever just because...
This is the song that never ends.... yes it goes on and on my friend.
Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was,
and now they'll go on singing it forever just because...
This is the song that never ends.... yes it goes on and on my friend.
Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was,
and now they'll go on singing it forever just because...
This is the song that never ends.... yes it goes on and on my friend.
Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was,
and now they'll go on singing it forever just because...
This is the song that never ends.... yes it goes on and on my friend.
Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was,
and now they'll go on singing it forever just because...
This is the song that never ends.... yes it goes on and on my friend.
Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was,
and now they'll go on singing it forever just because...
Make it stop. Please?
"This is the song that never ends.... yes it goes on and on my friend.
Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was,
and now they'll go on singing it forever just because...
This is the song that never ends.... yes it goes on and on my friend.
Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was,
and now they'll go on singing it forever just because...
This is the song that never ends.... yes it goes on and on my friend.
Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was,
and now they'll go on singing it forever just because...
This is the song that never ends.... yes it goes on and on my friend.
Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was,
and now they'll go on singing it forever just because...
This is the song that never ends.... yes it goes on and on my friend.
Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was,
and now they'll go on singing it forever just because...
This is the song that never ends.... yes it goes on and on my friend.
Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was,
and now they'll go on singing it forever just because...
Make it stop. Please?
All For The Low Low Cost Of Your First Born
Last night we went into town to shop. We needed to buy a couch, and ended up rounding out all of our remaining furniture needs in one fell swoop. I'm trying to decide if signing the contract in blood, and them performing a binding ritual over the paper was a bad sign or not.
My husband finally got his computer/den furniture after all these years, and he seems quite giddy about it. I have figured out that our computer room is the last part of our evolution into adults. Who needs a photo album to track your changes when you have a computer desk to do it for you? We went from a stand made out of something akin to toothpicks, to an abandoned kitchen table, to a really cheap Wal-mart number which would collapse like a house of cards of you breathed on it (to which I found that monitors are NOT all that durable. You can only drop them about five times before they start getting twitchy with you. Nerf should start making computers. Huge market, I'm telling you!)
This is the computer furniture that Mr. Savy picked last night. It weighs more than my car. I'm worried that when it's delivered, it'll fall through the floor to the basement below. However, Mr. Savy seems thrilled.
For the record, the chair that goes with the study is called "Mystic Chocolate". Hmmm. Probably the lowest calorie-anything I have ever bought with "chocolate" in the title. Looking at the photos, it's funny to see that nothing looks like it did in person. So, you'll have to take my work for it, they'll look lovely together.
Actually, we found the chair in their clearance department and got a really good deal. The thing is so soft I may have to name it, and keep it as a pet instead. The downside is, this means I need to paint my computer room, and since I have the week off, guess who gets to do it?
We did manage to get the couch that we were originally there for too for our "television/game/toy room" in the basement:
We didn't get the whole thing, just the pieces that we needed. The only drawback to this couch is that you never want to get out of it. It actually looks nicer in person too. It's so soft and fluffy, it's like laying in a cloud, and the backs all recline too. I've staked my claim on the chaise that the woman is sitting in. Blood will be spilled if anyone should challenge that. Including the cat.
There is nothing left for us to buy now. Our house is completely furnished. That's a really weird feeling. You start out with your lamps (if you have them) on milk-boxes, and end up with a whole living room set. It's slightly disturbing, to tell you the truth.
This probably means I need to start acting responsible and stuff.
Nah.
Oh, and I DID finally find a stationary bike to replace my broken one. It works great. The downside is that it lies to me. My old bike did too, though. I suspect another a plot. My old one told me I burned 7 calories for 60 minutes on the bike. This one tells me I burn 500 for 20 minutes. *sigh* The worst part was that I went online to try and see if I could fix it to something a bit more reasonable, and instead found out that I could have bought it for over $50 LESS than I did with free shipping. Worse yet, the place I bought it from basically says on their website "not only do we not guarantee our price against competitors, we don't even guarantee between our OWN stores and website! HA! Too bad for you SUCKER!!!!"
Mr. Savy pointed out that at least I have mine right now and was able to use it this morning, but I still feel the need to tell Dick's Sporting Goods to kiss my toes. *grrr*
My husband finally got his computer/den furniture after all these years, and he seems quite giddy about it. I have figured out that our computer room is the last part of our evolution into adults. Who needs a photo album to track your changes when you have a computer desk to do it for you? We went from a stand made out of something akin to toothpicks, to an abandoned kitchen table, to a really cheap Wal-mart number which would collapse like a house of cards of you breathed on it (to which I found that monitors are NOT all that durable. You can only drop them about five times before they start getting twitchy with you. Nerf should start making computers. Huge market, I'm telling you!)
This is the computer furniture that Mr. Savy picked last night. It weighs more than my car. I'm worried that when it's delivered, it'll fall through the floor to the basement below. However, Mr. Savy seems thrilled.
For the record, the chair that goes with the study is called "Mystic Chocolate". Hmmm. Probably the lowest calorie-anything I have ever bought with "chocolate" in the title. Looking at the photos, it's funny to see that nothing looks like it did in person. So, you'll have to take my work for it, they'll look lovely together.Actually, we found the chair in their clearance department and got a really good deal. The thing is so soft I may have to name it, and keep it as a pet instead. The downside is, this means I need to paint my computer room, and since I have the week off, guess who gets to do it?
We did manage to get the couch that we were originally there for too for our "television/game/toy room" in the basement:
We didn't get the whole thing, just the pieces that we needed. The only drawback to this couch is that you never want to get out of it. It actually looks nicer in person too. It's so soft and fluffy, it's like laying in a cloud, and the backs all recline too. I've staked my claim on the chaise that the woman is sitting in. Blood will be spilled if anyone should challenge that. Including the cat.There is nothing left for us to buy now. Our house is completely furnished. That's a really weird feeling. You start out with your lamps (if you have them) on milk-boxes, and end up with a whole living room set. It's slightly disturbing, to tell you the truth.
This probably means I need to start acting responsible and stuff.
Nah.
Oh, and I DID finally find a stationary bike to replace my broken one. It works great. The downside is that it lies to me. My old bike did too, though. I suspect another a plot. My old one told me I burned 7 calories for 60 minutes on the bike. This one tells me I burn 500 for 20 minutes. *sigh* The worst part was that I went online to try and see if I could fix it to something a bit more reasonable, and instead found out that I could have bought it for over $50 LESS than I did with free shipping. Worse yet, the place I bought it from basically says on their website "not only do we not guarantee our price against competitors, we don't even guarantee between our OWN stores and website! HA! Too bad for you SUCKER!!!!"
Mr. Savy pointed out that at least I have mine right now and was able to use it this morning, but I still feel the need to tell Dick's Sporting Goods to kiss my toes. *grrr*
Friday, January 05, 2007
It All Comes Crashing Down
I hate January. No, I really, REALLY do. There is nothing fun about January. Most people begin it hung over anyway, which should be a crystal clear sign of the month to come. But do any of us heed it? Have we removed it from the calender? Nope. I plan on making it one of my campaign issues when I run