Traditionally speaking, when someone gets married usually one partner takes the last name of another. Most times it's the woman, but I have seen it the other way around. You sometimes get variances where each person keeps their own last name, they hyphenate it, take it as a fourth name (as I did), or even more entertaining they sometimes create a sort of hybrid of both names.
I am fascinated by the hybrids; Mr. Duck marries Miss Chocolate and voila! You have Mr. and Mrs. Ducocolate!
The part that interests me the most is why this is so important to people. I have a very dear friend of mine who called me yesterday to tell me she is getting a divorce. I have known her since we were both 11 years old. Out of so many considerations to ponder, one of them is the chance to "take her name back" when the divorce goes through several months out from now.
It made me think a bit about when I got married (back when dinosaurs presided over the ceremonies, and blood sacrifices were required.) I remember being hesitant to take on Mr. Savy's last name. I chose to express this to my soon to be hubby and was met with a rather offended stony silence. It seems that this was just a line that was not to be crossed. Unfortunately, that only irked me to the point that I really pushed the issue.
Why should I be expected to give up my name? I had been that person for 20 years and it had worked perfectly well up until then. Better yet, why not have him take my name? Yeah, that one went down even less positively. I was told that it's a "guy thing". It's all about carrying on the family name and ensuring a legacy for future generations. To which I responded (after I finished gagging and rolling my eyes like I was having a seizure) with the obvious; what about my name legacy?
Is a last name really that important? Why?
For me, it came down to the fact that my family lineage through my father (the guy thing) is traced back to 786 AD, directly. With so much heritage (including clans, castles, a scandal involving a lavish spender and Mary Queen of Scots just to name a few) that I felt belonged to ME, I decided that I shouldn't have to give that up.
Well... that noble reason and the fact that it really pissed me off that women were expected to just toss the name that had been theirs over their shoulders like so much rubbish. I know that isn't what it's about, but it also smacked a little of being "owned" as well, which grated on me. So, I took Mr. Savy's last name as a fourth name, no hyphenation for me. My children, when they came along years later, also bear four names. It drives the DMV and other government agencies nuts, and they usually end up yelling at me something along the lines of "I don't have enough characters for THAT!"
I suppose, for us, the name issue never really got settled, it just sort of morphed out of importance. When I think about who I am now, I find that I identify with no last name whatsoever. Neither my maiden nor my married name seems to belong to me. I'm sure that makes no sense whatsoever, but it's just the way it feels. I guess I understand why Prince became just that. Prince. Or even better, that weird symbol.
Heck, it would be fun to go by just a symbol just to watch everyone else play with that one. Imagine renewing your drivers license with that!
I suppose this is a bit off an off topic, but I'm curious where everyone else comes down on this issue. So, what is in a name? What is in yours? Is it important? Not? Should someone take someone else's name? Why?
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Gah!
I feel like we're literally hemorrhaging money right now. It's awful. It was bad enough with the near $500 Delta ended up costing me because of their abuse last week, but today I had a triple whammy; our well water pressure tank/pump gave up on us, my computer quit altogether, and my washer blew up.
I know, you didn't know washers could do that, did you? Let me assure you that it is entirely possible for a washing machine to blow up. Instead of sparks and fire balls, there are a lot of sizzling sounds and a great deal of water involved. As a matter of fact, right now the blown up washing machine is the ONLY thing that has water in the house because...
The well pump tank thingy (that's the technical term for it) went belly up too. Granted, it's been slowly coming on for a while now. Both Mr. Savy and I tried to ignore it so it would go away, but it turns out that when plumbing is involved this is a poor strategy. Noted.
Mr. Savy has been working to try and install a new one since 7 AM this morning, to which he also got the brilliant idea to add a new filtration system to it at the same time which meant "plumbing a new area" (that just sounds dirty to me) and yet another trip to Home Depot where I lost him and literally had to have store help to find him. I think they're considering a lost and found department where women can be reunited with their lost husbands. A forward thinking move on their part if you ask me! At this very moment Mr. Savy is tinkering and coming up with creative curse words while he plays with benign things like welding equipment and electrical saws (yes, I have both fire alarms and extinguishers since I have no water, as well as a fully stocked first aid kit.) I'm standing ready.
In addition to these two things, the computer has also been having issues for about two months now. It just likes to shut down. No, no reason. No virus, no corrupt something or other that could be repaired like a normal problem. It just doesn't want to work anymore, so it turns off. Usually in the middle of something rather important, of course. Then today, just to really make it's point while everything else was going to hell all around us, it turned off three times in a row and verbally abused us. OK, maybe it didn't really verbally abuse us, but it did let us know the entire system was dying in very technical speak and made it's last request that it be buried next to our blue calculator. Apparently they've had a thing going for years.
So, off we went. We had to buy about $120 in plumbing things (which translates to shiny weird metal objects and tools which I feel are faintly justified but Mr. Savy insists are absolutely necessary.) We then had to buy a washer. I had originally searched online and found the best deal, but we ended up buying one of those "out of the box specials" (i.e. it had been returned but still had it's full warranty, etc) which was about twice as much as I felt we should be spending on it. Then we had to buy a computer to replace my dead one because both of our school sessions are about to start, and there was really no way around it. This was also pricey, but at least I know we got a good deal.
While I know these things were necessary, I have noticed that I have started tallying the financial damage in "how far" dollars. As in; I could have been all the way to Jamaica with a drink in my hand and getting a massage with the money we just spent. Or I could have gone to Paris and climbed the Eiffel tower. Really, if things keep up I am going to hit the "I could have been a world traveler!" point rather quickly.
Maybe I should just cut everything off at the pass and book myself a Mediterranean cruise right this moment before anything else goes wrong. Maybe that's why everything broke! See? Booking that trip would be the best move I could make for our financial well being! I'm duty bound, if you really consider the situation. How could I not make this sacrifice for the family? It's all for the greater good! Really!
I know, you didn't know washers could do that, did you? Let me assure you that it is entirely possible for a washing machine to blow up. Instead of sparks and fire balls, there are a lot of sizzling sounds and a great deal of water involved. As a matter of fact, right now the blown up washing machine is the ONLY thing that has water in the house because...
The well pump tank thingy (that's the technical term for it) went belly up too. Granted, it's been slowly coming on for a while now. Both Mr. Savy and I tried to ignore it so it would go away, but it turns out that when plumbing is involved this is a poor strategy. Noted.
Mr. Savy has been working to try and install a new one since 7 AM this morning, to which he also got the brilliant idea to add a new filtration system to it at the same time which meant "plumbing a new area" (that just sounds dirty to me) and yet another trip to Home Depot where I lost him and literally had to have store help to find him. I think they're considering a lost and found department where women can be reunited with their lost husbands. A forward thinking move on their part if you ask me! At this very moment Mr. Savy is tinkering and coming up with creative curse words while he plays with benign things like welding equipment and electrical saws (yes, I have both fire alarms and extinguishers since I have no water, as well as a fully stocked first aid kit.) I'm standing ready.
In addition to these two things, the computer has also been having issues for about two months now. It just likes to shut down. No, no reason. No virus, no corrupt something or other that could be repaired like a normal problem. It just doesn't want to work anymore, so it turns off. Usually in the middle of something rather important, of course. Then today, just to really make it's point while everything else was going to hell all around us, it turned off three times in a row and verbally abused us. OK, maybe it didn't really verbally abuse us, but it did let us know the entire system was dying in very technical speak and made it's last request that it be buried next to our blue calculator. Apparently they've had a thing going for years.
So, off we went. We had to buy about $120 in plumbing things (which translates to shiny weird metal objects and tools which I feel are faintly justified but Mr. Savy insists are absolutely necessary.) We then had to buy a washer. I had originally searched online and found the best deal, but we ended up buying one of those "out of the box specials" (i.e. it had been returned but still had it's full warranty, etc) which was about twice as much as I felt we should be spending on it. Then we had to buy a computer to replace my dead one because both of our school sessions are about to start, and there was really no way around it. This was also pricey, but at least I know we got a good deal.
While I know these things were necessary, I have noticed that I have started tallying the financial damage in "how far" dollars. As in; I could have been all the way to Jamaica with a drink in my hand and getting a massage with the money we just spent. Or I could have gone to Paris and climbed the Eiffel tower. Really, if things keep up I am going to hit the "I could have been a world traveler!" point rather quickly.
Maybe I should just cut everything off at the pass and book myself a Mediterranean cruise right this moment before anything else goes wrong. Maybe that's why everything broke! See? Booking that trip would be the best move I could make for our financial well being! I'm duty bound, if you really consider the situation. How could I not make this sacrifice for the family? It's all for the greater good! Really!
Friday, July 27, 2007
Put Me In Kinder-garten
I feel that it is time to talk about chocolate. As some of you may be aware, I am a fan. Just a little bit, anyway.
Some of you may also recall that Mr. Savy had a recent trip to Germany and Switzerland, to which that any man who I've been with for more than 13 years should have gathered that coming home without chocolate would be a serious error on his part. Deadly, really.
Fortunately, Mr. Savy is a man who has learned well. While he didn't come back with his body's weight in chocolate (though I suggested it,) he did come back with a nice haul. After sorting through the piles of the recognizable (i.e. Toblerone), and some not so much, not to mention marveling over the apparent hazelnut obsession both countries have (seriously, what is that?) I latched onto a few very major favorites.
The first is a little embarrassing actually. Kinder chocolates. Technically they're from Italy, but they were apparently all over in Germany where my husband was staying. It's marketed to children as a way to include all the milk they need in their diet - a line I'm sure would get them body slammed by the FDA in the United States, which might explain why they aren't here.
My husband brought back a lunch-box shaped, four variety pack for the kids. I tried some out of curiosity, and at first I didn't like it at all. It's hard to explain what it tastes like, because there is nothing here to liken them to. The weird thing was, they grew on me, and eventually I found I actually adored them. In the end, the Schoko-Bons ended up being my absolute favorite.
The second one I'd like to tell you about is much more grown up. They're Edelweiss liquor chocolates by Villars. They are absolutely to die for! Mr. Savy was lamenting the fact that he only purchased the single tiny box of them. He finished them off last night (they're his favorites too) and he's been moping ever since about it. We can't seem to find a single way to order more without going back to Switzerland.
I had never had Edelweiss liquor before, but I have to tell you if that's how it tastes coming out of the bottle too, I'd love to find a way to get my hands on some. That's really saying something since I don't normally drink a great deal, and usually just wine if I do. I can't figure out what the liquor would be classified as. Would it be a brandy?
I have to admit, these candies have both displaced Reese's for me. I never thought it possible. But the taste is so much better, and as an extra bonus none of it upsets my stomach at all. Reese's and other standard candy always does, even though I love it. Of course, the fact that Reese's would eventually make me slightly nauseous was probably a good thing, a built in stopping mechanism. While I always joked I could swim in a vat of Reese's, I always knew that in reality this couldn't happen because of how I would feel. But that isn't the case with these foreign chocolates - which is what makes them exceptionally dangerous.
But I like to live dangerously!
Some of you may also recall that Mr. Savy had a recent trip to Germany and Switzerland, to which that any man who I've been with for more than 13 years should have gathered that coming home without chocolate would be a serious error on his part. Deadly, really.
Fortunately, Mr. Savy is a man who has learned well. While he didn't come back with his body's weight in chocolate (though I suggested it,) he did come back with a nice haul. After sorting through the piles of the recognizable (i.e. Toblerone), and some not so much, not to mention marveling over the apparent hazelnut obsession both countries have (seriously, what is that?) I latched onto a few very major favorites.
The first is a little embarrassing actually. Kinder chocolates. Technically they're from Italy, but they were apparently all over in Germany where my husband was staying. It's marketed to children as a way to include all the milk they need in their diet - a line I'm sure would get them body slammed by the FDA in the United States, which might explain why they aren't here. My husband brought back a lunch-box shaped, four variety pack for the kids. I tried some out of curiosity, and at first I didn't like it at all. It's hard to explain what it tastes like, because there is nothing here to liken them to. The weird thing was, they grew on me, and eventually I found I actually adored them. In the end, the Schoko-Bons ended up being my absolute favorite.
The second one I'd like to tell you about is much more grown up. They're Edelweiss liquor chocolates by Villars. They are absolutely to die for! Mr. Savy was lamenting the fact that he only purchased the single tiny box of them. He finished them off last night (they're his favorites too) and he's been moping ever since about it. We can't seem to find a single way to order more without going back to Switzerland.I had never had Edelweiss liquor before, but I have to tell you if that's how it tastes coming out of the bottle too, I'd love to find a way to get my hands on some. That's really saying something since I don't normally drink a great deal, and usually just wine if I do. I can't figure out what the liquor would be classified as. Would it be a brandy?
I have to admit, these candies have both displaced Reese's for me. I never thought it possible. But the taste is so much better, and as an extra bonus none of it upsets my stomach at all. Reese's and other standard candy always does, even though I love it. Of course, the fact that Reese's would eventually make me slightly nauseous was probably a good thing, a built in stopping mechanism. While I always joked I could swim in a vat of Reese's, I always knew that in reality this couldn't happen because of how I would feel. But that isn't the case with these foreign chocolates - which is what makes them exceptionally dangerous.
But I like to live dangerously!
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Tagging and Contagious Fat
It's amazing how many people think you are up to something nefarious when you buy a ton of paint and spray paint. I was carded, had the manager called down so he could look me over, and I had to defend my purchase of seven cans of spray paint (my air brush is broken) and various gallons of paint: white, black, teal, brown, and cream. I must look shifty or something. I tried explaining what I was doing, but when I had to backtrack and define the word "nebulous" I gave up. Eventually they let me go. Admittedly, after going through all of that, I did have to fight the urge to run around the back of the building and sign my name... but I somehow found the strength.
Today my plans include removing all the furniture from my son's room and taping and tarping the area. The problems I am facing involve a lack of air conditioning, a 90 degree day with really high humidity, and no help. And yet, I'm still really excited. I have no idea why, but I am so looking forward to rolling black paint across the ceiling. There is something satisfying about a dark color being pushed around a sea of white... I just can't help myself. I am wondering how I am going to manage to paint a ceiling without a nice scaffold to recline on. Michelangelo really had the right idea with laying down to paint ceilings. I am not looking forward to the blood loss in my hands as I try to keep them up and painting.
On my next tangent for your perusal, I found this article that states that fat may very well be contagious: "A new study finds that when the scale reads "obese" for one individual, the odds that their friends will become obese increase by more than 50 percent." Their whole point was that if you hang out with obese people you will become obese and if you hang out with thin people you'll become thin because of the social influences your group presents.
What? Oh, sorry. Right, where was I? Ummm... moving on...
In a completely unrelated topic, I am really excited. They're fixing my road!!! The road I live on had an area completely wash out and down a cliff about two years ago.
The picture is one I took about four years ago, coincidentally enough standing in the exact spot where the road washed away. It's about a 40 foot drop to the water, and more than half the road and the surrounding trees went down.
For the longest time, the town has been refusing to fix it. You see, it's in a neighboring town, but just on the edge of mine. In fact, the other town only has four residents on the other side of the broken road. So, they put it off as long as they could. Without other options for driving (not many roads here) this has meant an added 10 miles to every trip going in that direction (5 miles each way) for things like the grocery store, attending college, etc. It's been quite the scandal locally, and just a huge pain in the neck personally. But I found out today that while I was gone they have been working on it, and their hope is to have it fixed by the end of next week! WOOHOO!!! It's taken them TWO years, can you believe that? Geeze. But woo-hoo, just the same!
Alright, I know - it's not very exciting to everyone else, but I'm thrilled. Life's little pleasures, ya gotta love 'em.
Today my plans include removing all the furniture from my son's room and taping and tarping the area. The problems I am facing involve a lack of air conditioning, a 90 degree day with really high humidity, and no help. And yet, I'm still really excited. I have no idea why, but I am so looking forward to rolling black paint across the ceiling. There is something satisfying about a dark color being pushed around a sea of white... I just can't help myself. I am wondering how I am going to manage to paint a ceiling without a nice scaffold to recline on. Michelangelo really had the right idea with laying down to paint ceilings. I am not looking forward to the blood loss in my hands as I try to keep them up and painting.
On my next tangent for your perusal, I found this article that states that fat may very well be contagious: "A new study finds that when the scale reads "obese" for one individual, the odds that their friends will become obese increase by more than 50 percent." Their whole point was that if you hang out with obese people you will become obese and if you hang out with thin people you'll become thin because of the social influences your group presents.
"The researchers found that if a participant's friend became obese over the course of the study, the chances that the participant also became obese increased by 57 percent. Among mutual friends (both individuals indicate the other is a "friend"), the chances nearly tripled.
Among siblings, if one becomes obese the likelihood of their sister or brother becoming obese increases by 40 percent. Among spouses there is a 37 percent increased risk.
Gender also affected the degree of "obesity contagion." In same-sex friendships, individuals had a 71 percent increased risk of obesity if a friend became obese. If a guy's brother is obese, he's 44 percent more likely to also become obese. Among sisters, the risk was 67 percent."
I'm both intrigued by this, and disgusted. I think there is definitely something to the whole social sphere having impact upon your choices. But at the same time, I think you have to be really careful when you tell someone that if their friend starts packing on weight, that might be the time to head for the hills. Talk about starting a whole new level of fat-phobia for people. On the flip-side, just think of all those excessively thin people who are suddenly going to become extra popular. A whole new dieting angle! Befriend a thin person, drop 20 lbs! Of course the thin person will be avoiding the fat person like the plague. It could even turn into thin-stalking, with thin-avoidance issues, and thin-restraining orders, all while wearing thin-masks like they do to protect from SARS. And then, eventually, someone idiot will see this scientific research as a basis to sue another person for making them fat. Society as we know it will break down, whipped cream will become it's own food group, and the sky will fall...
What? Oh, sorry. Right, where was I? Ummm... moving on...
In a completely unrelated topic, I am really excited. They're fixing my road!!! The road I live on had an area completely wash out and down a cliff about two years ago.
The picture is one I took about four years ago, coincidentally enough standing in the exact spot where the road washed away. It's about a 40 foot drop to the water, and more than half the road and the surrounding trees went down.For the longest time, the town has been refusing to fix it. You see, it's in a neighboring town, but just on the edge of mine. In fact, the other town only has four residents on the other side of the broken road. So, they put it off as long as they could. Without other options for driving (not many roads here) this has meant an added 10 miles to every trip going in that direction (5 miles each way) for things like the grocery store, attending college, etc. It's been quite the scandal locally, and just a huge pain in the neck personally. But I found out today that while I was gone they have been working on it, and their hope is to have it fixed by the end of next week! WOOHOO!!! It's taken them TWO years, can you believe that? Geeze. But woo-hoo, just the same!
Alright, I know - it's not very exciting to everyone else, but I'm thrilled. Life's little pleasures, ya gotta love 'em.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Lazy Is As Lazy Does
I absolutely love the phrase "the lazy days of summer". I think of it reflexively almost every morning I wake up in my bed with the birds chirping, the breeze blowing, and the otherwise utter silence that exists where I live.
I grew up in the suburbs, so I don't know why I find the silence here so familiar. As a child, I remember waking up and staying in bed to watch my tacky rainbow curtains flutter in the light breeze escaping around the pull down shade which alternately sucked tight to the window and then billowed out as if my room were sighing. I remember hearing the day. That's the only way to describe it. The day has it's very own signature sound just as the night does, no matter where you live. Maybe that's why it all seems so familiar even though the location has drastically changed.
I rolled around in bed today just listening to the sounds and pondering what I am going to do with my day. Truly, I have no real obligations. It's such a nice feeling. However, I do have some... suggested obligations. I need to finish several paintings. I need to finish the back outline for my book. I need to start work on my son's room.
I think it's the last one which is bugging me the most. True, I have multiple people who need me to finish some paintings right now - but the truth is that it's on my schedule not theirs, they just want to see the finished products. They want something new. But my son has been waiting for his room to be decorated for a long time.
My son has decided on a "space and robots" theme. At first there was lots of talk of painting the room black and putting stars and spaceship stick-ups everywhere. The problem is, there is something about painting an entire room black (we're talking about all the walls AND the ceiling) that feels inherently wrong. I have been turning the idea over and over in my head, and it just doesn't feel right. Add to that my search yesterday on black space rooms where I managed to hit a web page that discussed how painting bedrooms black can be an iffy psychological move for a child/teen. Ok, not that I totally buy into the whole mumbo-jumbo about colors completely influencing you... but they do influence me on a major level, granted I am more sensitive to that type of thing than anyone I have ever met.
Still, the idea of a black room seems wrong, especially for a six year old. So, that means I need an alternative. I looked into wallpapers (with more of a blue than a black base) of galaxies and whatnot - and discovered that I can't afford them. Wholly cow! Those are pricey! So my next idea was to paint the ceiling black and about 12 inches of the top of the walls and paint in some basic stars and planets, then add clouds on the wall, then go blue the rest of the way down, and then paint a brown sort of pock marked barren lunar landscape around the bottom of the room (the room is about 11' x 12 ') and he could get those stick-up things of space ships and planets to put up. Nothing complex, just your basic stuff. A quickie job.
And then I started feeling guilty. The truth is, I could do a real mural in his room. A really excellent job. Am I just being lazy? Yes. Shame on me. He has a mother who can turn his room into a space wonderland and here she is thinking about other things. *sigh* I'm wondering what I should do. I really do have other things to do, and school is starting back up on August 27th for me (30th for the kids.) But he's six NOW, he would appreciate this NOW.
Oh who am I kidding. I know I need to do this. It's just daunting. Especially with a week break in the middle for our trip to Minnesota next week. I suppose I'll build off my idea of the black sky and landscape. Start there, and then add complexity to it as I go. I wonder where the heck my airbrush is. I haven't pulled that thing out in years.
Wish me luck!
I grew up in the suburbs, so I don't know why I find the silence here so familiar. As a child, I remember waking up and staying in bed to watch my tacky rainbow curtains flutter in the light breeze escaping around the pull down shade which alternately sucked tight to the window and then billowed out as if my room were sighing. I remember hearing the day. That's the only way to describe it. The day has it's very own signature sound just as the night does, no matter where you live. Maybe that's why it all seems so familiar even though the location has drastically changed.
I rolled around in bed today just listening to the sounds and pondering what I am going to do with my day. Truly, I have no real obligations. It's such a nice feeling. However, I do have some... suggested obligations. I need to finish several paintings. I need to finish the back outline for my book. I need to start work on my son's room.
I think it's the last one which is bugging me the most. True, I have multiple people who need me to finish some paintings right now - but the truth is that it's on my schedule not theirs, they just want to see the finished products. They want something new. But my son has been waiting for his room to be decorated for a long time.
My son has decided on a "space and robots" theme. At first there was lots of talk of painting the room black and putting stars and spaceship stick-ups everywhere. The problem is, there is something about painting an entire room black (we're talking about all the walls AND the ceiling) that feels inherently wrong. I have been turning the idea over and over in my head, and it just doesn't feel right. Add to that my search yesterday on black space rooms where I managed to hit a web page that discussed how painting bedrooms black can be an iffy psychological move for a child/teen. Ok, not that I totally buy into the whole mumbo-jumbo about colors completely influencing you... but they do influence me on a major level, granted I am more sensitive to that type of thing than anyone I have ever met.
Still, the idea of a black room seems wrong, especially for a six year old. So, that means I need an alternative. I looked into wallpapers (with more of a blue than a black base) of galaxies and whatnot - and discovered that I can't afford them. Wholly cow! Those are pricey! So my next idea was to paint the ceiling black and about 12 inches of the top of the walls and paint in some basic stars and planets, then add clouds on the wall, then go blue the rest of the way down, and then paint a brown sort of pock marked barren lunar landscape around the bottom of the room (the room is about 11' x 12 ') and he could get those stick-up things of space ships and planets to put up. Nothing complex, just your basic stuff. A quickie job.
And then I started feeling guilty. The truth is, I could do a real mural in his room. A really excellent job. Am I just being lazy? Yes. Shame on me. He has a mother who can turn his room into a space wonderland and here she is thinking about other things. *sigh* I'm wondering what I should do. I really do have other things to do, and school is starting back up on August 27th for me (30th for the kids.) But he's six NOW, he would appreciate this NOW.
Oh who am I kidding. I know I need to do this. It's just daunting. Especially with a week break in the middle for our trip to Minnesota next week. I suppose I'll build off my idea of the black sky and landscape. Start there, and then add complexity to it as I go. I wonder where the heck my airbrush is. I haven't pulled that thing out in years.
Wish me luck!
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Potter Soda
I will preface this by saying I will reveal nothing, so this post is safe to read for those Potter fans out there. I finished the Harry Potter book last night. I confess that around page 600, I couldn't set it down for even small breaks any longer. Sometimes, I really wish I wasn't such a fast reader. I deliberately slowed my reading pace down, and still I zipped through it.
On the other hand, that's a sign of a good book, isn't it?
I enjoyed the series a great deal, and I admit I even felt some trepidation when considering beginning the last book in the series. Mostly, I think, because I knew that it would be over. I kind of liked having these nifty books being released to look forward to. I know all the people who hate the series have many things to say - not the least of which is that the ideas in the whole series are unoriginal. But the thing is, as was said to me in seventh grade "it's all been written before, there isn't an original idea left. The only difference is that it hasn't been written by you, with your point of view." Rowling has a good point of view even if I can see the mirror in the series to the Worst Witch (both the books and the old television series) and several other sources. Now, my daughter and Mr. Savy are arguing over who gets to read it next - my money is on the nine year old.
In other news, they're attacking my diet soda. Apparently, a group of researchers have decided that diet soda can lead to all sorts of problems and risks. I think the most infuriating part of all of this is that they're blaming it on the diet soda and not the Big Macs that people are shoving down their throat. Though they point out they can't prove soda was the cause, and it's more about people having a bad lifestyle who drink diet soda, it's still irritating. Sure, study the stuff, but just because most people are choosing to eat in an unhealthy manner in addition to diet soda doesn't mean it's the soda making them do it.
Leave my Pepsi Max alone, dagnabbit!
Sorry, I may be going through caffeine withdrawals. I tried the Pepsi Max over a month ago, and well... I think I'm addicted in a bad way. Is it wrong when you realize you are having regular conversations with a plastic bottle? Just checking...
Admittedly, I'm curious about their comments regarding the caramel coloring; "The caramel coloring of some sodas also may play a role. He said caramel coloring in animal experiments was associated with tissue inflammation. " Maybe I'm actually a size 0, but I'm all "caramel inflamed" or something. Thoughts to ponder.
On the other hand, that's a sign of a good book, isn't it?
I enjoyed the series a great deal, and I admit I even felt some trepidation when considering beginning the last book in the series. Mostly, I think, because I knew that it would be over. I kind of liked having these nifty books being released to look forward to. I know all the people who hate the series have many things to say - not the least of which is that the ideas in the whole series are unoriginal. But the thing is, as was said to me in seventh grade "it's all been written before, there isn't an original idea left. The only difference is that it hasn't been written by you, with your point of view." Rowling has a good point of view even if I can see the mirror in the series to the Worst Witch (both the books and the old television series) and several other sources. Now, my daughter and Mr. Savy are arguing over who gets to read it next - my money is on the nine year old.
In other news, they're attacking my diet soda. Apparently, a group of researchers have decided that diet soda can lead to all sorts of problems and risks. I think the most infuriating part of all of this is that they're blaming it on the diet soda and not the Big Macs that people are shoving down their throat. Though they point out they can't prove soda was the cause, and it's more about people having a bad lifestyle who drink diet soda, it's still irritating. Sure, study the stuff, but just because most people are choosing to eat in an unhealthy manner in addition to diet soda doesn't mean it's the soda making them do it.
Leave my Pepsi Max alone, dagnabbit!
Sorry, I may be going through caffeine withdrawals. I tried the Pepsi Max over a month ago, and well... I think I'm addicted in a bad way. Is it wrong when you realize you are having regular conversations with a plastic bottle? Just checking...
Admittedly, I'm curious about their comments regarding the caramel coloring; "The caramel coloring of some sodas also may play a role. He said caramel coloring in animal experiments was associated with tissue inflammation. " Maybe I'm actually a size 0, but I'm all "caramel inflamed" or something. Thoughts to ponder.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Trollatomy
Writers left and right have been packing up their blogs and giving up lately. I admit, I have done this once before with my prior incarnation (Figuring It Out, for which the URL was subsequently taken over by a bottom feeder using the traffic to generate revenue - lesson learned; even when you quit, don't give your slot up online.) Sometimes a blogger just grows out of their "blogging phase", other times it's letting the trolls online out there win. Actually, often it's about the trolls.
A troll is a person who visits a web-log and makes the time to be rude or nasty in some fashion to the author. Sometimes they're completely outlandish with comments like "your mother was a warty toad!" Other times the person actually makes the effort to go through the web-log and find a way to personally attack the author. And, sometimes, it's simply a person who doesn't understand the author's sense of humor, or is deluded into thinking that they actually know the author via their blog and therefor have the right to pass judgment and criticism whenever possible. Usually, however, it's about the troll using the existence of web-logs as a way to make themselves feel superior. A sort of nasty sport where they get to be rude and hurtful without consequence.
The argument has always been that if you have a web-log, you are taking the chance of being targeted. Perhaps you are even asking for it. You post your thoughts online, personal things, so you "deserve what's coming to you." The whole concept of "if you can't take the heat, get out of the spotlight" seems such a weak argument for the trolls to make for their own cruelty and disgusting choices, but there you have it.
Lately, I have been plagued by a couple of trolls who choose to go for the personal level. I spent a bit of time thinking on the point of my blog. I think it always causes me to do this; someone decides to be nasty and I go into an immediate tailspin of wondering why I write in the first place. Is it even worth it? Maybe I shouldn't be a blogger if I am this sensitive to the situation. Why on earth would I even think twice about someone who is so caught up in their "right to hurt others" that they cannot see there is another person on the other end of the keyboard? It makes me want to shut down my blog right now.
I have been told in the past that the reason I attract trolls is that I write in a very personal way. I write about things I really care about, how I really feel, and things that have great impact upon me. This leads some to believe, perhaps, that they truly know me just from my postings (when the truth is I write about so little going on in my life or things I think about. There is so much more to who I am, a blog could not even begin to encompass it. Why don't people understand that about everyone's web-log?) Others scent blood in the water, because they can see the personal thoughts in my writing. One person even said that I blog in such a personal way that it's like I am talking to them about my life in a letter that is just to them. That was both such a compliment and a very frightening statement that I have continued to think on it until I have nearly worn the very thought out.
A logical step (or alternative) would be to delete all posts with anything personal in it, and to just write about inconsequential things that hold no real meaning for me. Many bloggers are very successful with that. It's about humor, and nothing personal. Or it's about business, again nothing personal. I tried that. The truth is that while others are successful at that, it's just not for me. Sure, I read those blogs and enjoy them - but they're just not my personal flavor of expression. I get personal. It's just a fact. Do I cover even the tip of the iceberg when it comes to who I am? Not by a long shot, but just the same, that doesn't mean I shouldn't write at all. And when I write, personal thoughts and feelings leak into my posts. Sometimes it's just a little bit, and sometimes it's over-spiced with nothing but.
I believe that being a blogger is about having a voice. No matter who you are or what platform you use (web-log, newspaper, painting, video, book, etc,) or what you choose to say, when you speak out about anything there will always be those waiting to try and silence you. They will tell you that if you have any troubles you deserve them. That your thoughts are stupid and you should silence them. That you are a horrible person.
Truly, it is the troll who is the horrible person. Imagine going out of your way, actually making the time to try and make another person feel bad! What kind of person does that? The only person I feel bad for in trollville are those who don't understand that they are trolls. The ones who think that attacking someone online is serving a "greater purpose" or that they're being constructive in their brutality and making the world a better place. I suppose it's those who deserve pity, they're so lost. The others are the dredges of humanity personified online. Maybe it's like road-rage and those people are actually upstanding citizens who just lose a bit of control, decency, and reality when they log onto the internet. Still, I haven't any sympathy for a person who loses their way and thinks it's acceptable or even fun to attack another person online for sport or otherwise.
I started out this morning with the intention to delete posts with anything personal in them. I started from my most recent and worked backwards. I did delete about four posts before I realized that so many of my posts are interwoven between being personal and not. Even worse, it's likely I would have to delete 99% of what I have written. So, I stopped. I thought a lot about whether or not to delete my entire web-log, but the truth is that this is one of the outlets I use to express some things. My painting and fiction writing is another, but this one is just as valid.
I cannot explain why I choose to write online like this. I have thought a lot about it, and it just serves some sort of purpose for me. I can't fully explain it. Do I write to drive traffic here? No, not really. I write for myself. Do I like that some wonderful people check in on me and send a comment now and then? Yeah, I do. But not because I'm collecting comments or readers. It's because there are some really wonderful people online, and I like hearing from them. Most importantly, just as there are trolls personifying rudeness and cruelty online there are those who are humanity at its best as well.
It's most important to remember that. For every troll you encounter, think of the genuinely nice people online. We have a word for the jerks: trolls. I'm not sure what term should be used for those who are the exact opposite, but we should come up with one. Maybe then we could spend more time on those people, rather than the ones who are certainly not worth a moment of our time or respect.
I recommitted to my blog today after working through all this. I will not delete my web-log because of rude and cruel people. When I go, it will be because I am done with writing online. I will not be silenced by others. I may not be saying anything of great importance, but it is still my voice. You don't have to listen if you don't want to, and taking the time to try and silence someone as trolls do is an act of disrespect to another person on a very basic level.
Instead, I am choosing to focus on those who have added to my experience online. To those of you, I send a sincere thank you. You helped me to hold onto the idea that there really are nice people out there... somewhere.
A troll is a person who visits a web-log and makes the time to be rude or nasty in some fashion to the author. Sometimes they're completely outlandish with comments like "your mother was a warty toad!" Other times the person actually makes the effort to go through the web-log and find a way to personally attack the author. And, sometimes, it's simply a person who doesn't understand the author's sense of humor, or is deluded into thinking that they actually know the author via their blog and therefor have the right to pass judgment and criticism whenever possible. Usually, however, it's about the troll using the existence of web-logs as a way to make themselves feel superior. A sort of nasty sport where they get to be rude and hurtful without consequence.
The argument has always been that if you have a web-log, you are taking the chance of being targeted. Perhaps you are even asking for it. You post your thoughts online, personal things, so you "deserve what's coming to you." The whole concept of "if you can't take the heat, get out of the spotlight" seems such a weak argument for the trolls to make for their own cruelty and disgusting choices, but there you have it.
Lately, I have been plagued by a couple of trolls who choose to go for the personal level. I spent a bit of time thinking on the point of my blog. I think it always causes me to do this; someone decides to be nasty and I go into an immediate tailspin of wondering why I write in the first place. Is it even worth it? Maybe I shouldn't be a blogger if I am this sensitive to the situation. Why on earth would I even think twice about someone who is so caught up in their "right to hurt others" that they cannot see there is another person on the other end of the keyboard? It makes me want to shut down my blog right now.
I have been told in the past that the reason I attract trolls is that I write in a very personal way. I write about things I really care about, how I really feel, and things that have great impact upon me. This leads some to believe, perhaps, that they truly know me just from my postings (when the truth is I write about so little going on in my life or things I think about. There is so much more to who I am, a blog could not even begin to encompass it. Why don't people understand that about everyone's web-log?) Others scent blood in the water, because they can see the personal thoughts in my writing. One person even said that I blog in such a personal way that it's like I am talking to them about my life in a letter that is just to them. That was both such a compliment and a very frightening statement that I have continued to think on it until I have nearly worn the very thought out.
A logical step (or alternative) would be to delete all posts with anything personal in it, and to just write about inconsequential things that hold no real meaning for me. Many bloggers are very successful with that. It's about humor, and nothing personal. Or it's about business, again nothing personal. I tried that. The truth is that while others are successful at that, it's just not for me. Sure, I read those blogs and enjoy them - but they're just not my personal flavor of expression. I get personal. It's just a fact. Do I cover even the tip of the iceberg when it comes to who I am? Not by a long shot, but just the same, that doesn't mean I shouldn't write at all. And when I write, personal thoughts and feelings leak into my posts. Sometimes it's just a little bit, and sometimes it's over-spiced with nothing but.
I believe that being a blogger is about having a voice. No matter who you are or what platform you use (web-log, newspaper, painting, video, book, etc,) or what you choose to say, when you speak out about anything there will always be those waiting to try and silence you. They will tell you that if you have any troubles you deserve them. That your thoughts are stupid and you should silence them. That you are a horrible person.
Truly, it is the troll who is the horrible person. Imagine going out of your way, actually making the time to try and make another person feel bad! What kind of person does that? The only person I feel bad for in trollville are those who don't understand that they are trolls. The ones who think that attacking someone online is serving a "greater purpose" or that they're being constructive in their brutality and making the world a better place. I suppose it's those who deserve pity, they're so lost. The others are the dredges of humanity personified online. Maybe it's like road-rage and those people are actually upstanding citizens who just lose a bit of control, decency, and reality when they log onto the internet. Still, I haven't any sympathy for a person who loses their way and thinks it's acceptable or even fun to attack another person online for sport or otherwise.
I started out this morning with the intention to delete posts with anything personal in them. I started from my most recent and worked backwards. I did delete about four posts before I realized that so many of my posts are interwoven between being personal and not. Even worse, it's likely I would have to delete 99% of what I have written. So, I stopped. I thought a lot about whether or not to delete my entire web-log, but the truth is that this is one of the outlets I use to express some things. My painting and fiction writing is another, but this one is just as valid.
I cannot explain why I choose to write online like this. I have thought a lot about it, and it just serves some sort of purpose for me. I can't fully explain it. Do I write to drive traffic here? No, not really. I write for myself. Do I like that some wonderful people check in on me and send a comment now and then? Yeah, I do. But not because I'm collecting comments or readers. It's because there are some really wonderful people online, and I like hearing from them. Most importantly, just as there are trolls personifying rudeness and cruelty online there are those who are humanity at its best as well.
It's most important to remember that. For every troll you encounter, think of the genuinely nice people online. We have a word for the jerks: trolls. I'm not sure what term should be used for those who are the exact opposite, but we should come up with one. Maybe then we could spend more time on those people, rather than the ones who are certainly not worth a moment of our time or respect.
I recommitted to my blog today after working through all this. I will not delete my web-log because of rude and cruel people. When I go, it will be because I am done with writing online. I will not be silenced by others. I may not be saying anything of great importance, but it is still my voice. You don't have to listen if you don't want to, and taking the time to try and silence someone as trolls do is an act of disrespect to another person on a very basic level.
Instead, I am choosing to focus on those who have added to my experience online. To those of you, I send a sincere thank you. You helped me to hold onto the idea that there really are nice people out there... somewhere.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Trapped In New York
You might have wondered where I went off to these past few days of blog-silence. Did I win the lottery and was I off on a fabulous vacation and mansion buying spree? Was I lounging in the pool, asleep, and burning to a crisp? No. You cannot imagine what I have been through these past days. It involves terror, mystery, suspense, and finding out that New Hampshire, USA is actually a foreign country.
Let me preface this by saying if at all possible, NEVER fly through JFK airport in New York, and NEVER EVER use Delta Airlines.
I was scheduled to fly home Thursday morning from Phoenix, AZ. We made wonderful time to the airport, even though there was traffic. I had been concerned about our flight because they admitted they had seriously overbooked it. But fortunately, we made it there early enough and were given three seats in a row for my children and I. After we said goodbye to my father is when it all slowly started to unravel into a nightmare of Hollywood proportions.
The gate area was packed with people waiting for the flight, when someone noticed that the board suddenly displayed a two hour later time of departure. The agents didn't want to announce it, but finally they were forced into it by their supervisor (I got to hear all the behind the scenes chatter between the supervisor and the agents because of where I was sitting.) Apparently, JFK had an "all ground stop" in effect.
I was concerned about my connecting flight, but I was told mine had been delayed just enough too that it shouldn't be a problem. They boarded the flight two hours late, and then informed everyone after sealing the plane that we were "going to a remote location on the tarmac to wait anywhere between an hour to two hours." Fortunately, it was only just over an hour. We had a relatively uneventful flight out to New York, and I thought everything would be fine as I got off the plane.
Unfortunately, I walked into a nightmare. Whatever had happened at JFK earlier had caused a massive circus. I walked into people crammed into every inch of the terminal. People shouting, lines to counters over 100 people long, no restaurants (even fast food) to be had minus a couple stands which we did make use of (two small sandwiches and a water cost me $28!!!) We found a spot on the floor to stick close together and eat, since the screens all said my flight was delayed another two hours to get back to Vermont.
We were eating, and watching people going crazy while Delta did things like load two planes simultaneously through a single gate, when I heard the people say behind me "Damn it! They canceled our flight to Burlington!" Oh dear. Four other flights were canceled up on the board as well.
I gathered up the kids, mid-sandwich, and got into line. We were in the line over an hour. By the time I got to the counter, the agent didn't even speak to me, just took my tickets and started tapping at the computer in a completely bored manner. I finally said "could you maybe tell me what's going on?" She replied that she was looking for the next flight to put me on to Vermont and it was SUNDAY (remember, it's Thursday.) I told her that this wouldn't do, and looked up at the screen. There was a flight leaving for Albany, NY (about 2 1/2 hours from home) in 25 minutes, could they put us on that? No, she informed me - you must be checked in 30 minutes prior. So while there were seats, she refused to put us on the plane. Standby for the next day wasn't an option.
The people next to me were on the same flight having the same problem. We chatted with each other and decided that we would all rent a van and drive back together. Fantastic idea right? So, we all left the counter without getting booked on anything. We're going to drive home, why bother? Ok, note for all the travelers out there - even if you think you are going to do something else, get booked on SOMETHING.
As a group, we went to the vehicle rental area and tried to get a van. Every single rental place was SOLD OUT. I kid you not. We went through ten rental companies. I realized that Enterprise car rentals wasn't listed, called and got the number, talked to a representative who then informed me that while they did have cars, they refused to rent a one way car. The car must be returned to New York. I should mention that my mental state at this point was starting to break down. I begged her, and said that what about another town in New York State? Something close to the border of Vermont? She finally found one and said that would be alright... oh but OOPS for me, they JUST CLOSED! Oh, and besides, it wouldn't seat everyone anyway and she suggested I try for it tomorrow and put the kids in the same seatbelt.
At this point, I was beginning to panic. We were out of car rental options, had no ticket booked or anything. As we turned to go back to the ticket counter (the idea was to ask delta to look at other airlines and see if we could purchase a ticket on there, we were also looking at the bus and so on. I should also add that Delta refused any responsibility for any of this. They said it was due to weather earlier in the day that these flights had been canceled - there was NO weather issues in New York that evening - and so it's our problem not theirs) a couple Delta representatives and security came up and actually KICKED US OUT OF THE AIRPORT!
They said this upstairs Delta area was closed for the night. We explained we needed to get booked on something, have some option, they told us we had to make our way to the night ticketing area. OK, we said, how do we get there. We were told we could have gone through the inside, but they were closed and were not going to make any exceptions, so we should walk around the outside until we found the right way in.
Now, let me explain something to you all - it's after 10 PM, it's dark. There are no side walks. There are no lights. I'm just grateful I wasn't the only one locked out. There were about 15 of us. We had to walk the outside of the airport for over 40 minutes looking for a way in. And by the outside of the airport, I mean we were walking on the highway vehicle on-ramps and roads with oncoming traffic. I cannot begin to express to you my terror of keeping my six and nine year old safe and in my line of sight while walking in the dark on busy roads, locked out of an airport without anywhere to go. We were turned away from multiple entrances by people who could have given a damn.
We finally found the way in, and proceeded to stand in line at least another 30 minutes. I finally got an agent and she spent her time working on my ticket and LAUGHING with the other agents at everyone's distress over the situation. I'm not kidding. I would have leaped over the counter and hurt her if I wasn't so terrified about what the hell I was going to do. I went through the whole dance again about when could I get on a flight to Vermont - Sunday. What about closer to home airports - No. What about flying me through another airport (like Boston, to Vermont) - No. She kept asking about other nearby airports, but there really aren't that many.
I heard someone mention Manchester, NH. I had forgotten that one, and it's still about three hours from home - but better than this. So, I mentioned that one. She said she could get us on that for Friday evening (late). Still, it was better than nothing. Fine. She went tapping away, and then said "Alright, I need your passport."
I figured she was confused and I said "You mean my I.D., right? I have that right here..."
"No, you need a passport."
My jaw dropped. Several things sprung to mind. I suppose the worst one to come out would have been "Are you F****** with me?" Fortunately, the one that actually made it to my vocal cords was "But New Hampshire is a State in the US! Manchester, NH is IN the United States!"
"You still need a passport to go there."
"NO, I DON'T! It's in the USA! I'm not leaving the country to get there, it's not a foreign country, I don't need a passport!"
"Yes you do. You need a passport to go to Manchester."
"You aren't looking at Manchester in the United Kingdom, right? You have the right flight to New Hampshire?"
"Yes, and you need a passport. Without a passport, I cannot book you on this flight."
"I DO NOT NEED A PASSPORT TO GO TO NEW HAMPSHIRE!" At this point I was seriously at my breaking point. The total absurdity of the situation, the fact that it was almost midnight, the nightmare I was in, I almost started crying. How do you convince someone that New Hampshire is in the USA and you don't need a passport? Shouldn't that be common sense for a TICKET AGENT?!?!? I was so blown away, I didn't even know what to do. She may have noticed that I was about to totally lose it, because she took my drivers license and then called someone. They spent over half an hour chatting on the phone (making fun of the people freaking out all around us) and finally booked us on the flight.
I heard one guy a few counters down start screaming "I expect customer service, that's what I expect! You expect that when you go out, why the hell shouldn't I expect it!!!" My agent laughed and shook her head and said in this sing-song voice "The more they shout, the lesssssss we help them! Ha ha!" Another guy was on his cell phone to Delta shouting about how he had paid for trip insurance and everything, and apparently Delta told him since this was due to weather earlier in the day, it wasn't their fault and they owed him nothing. He didn't take that well.
I finally had the tickets, and my children were in tears. I knew I needed to get to somewhere to stay. We went down to the area where they have hotel information and it was completely deserted. It was just a cement area that echoed and one guy working behind a glass enclosed counter that was for hotel room placement. I got there and he immediately shook his head at me and said in broken English "All hotels booked. No rooms."
I said that there had to be rooms somewhere, please, please. He insisted that there was not. The kids were seriously losing it at this point, crying and scared. Hell, I was scared and not far from crying either. The guy's supervisor showed up and tried making some calls, he said there was a motel about 40 minutes out and I'd have to take a cab out there and hope they had a room. It didn't sound good at all, plus I didn't have the cash for a 40 minute cab fare. I did lose it at that point. I started tearing up and said to them that I didn't know what to do. My flights had been canceled, all the cars were sold out, I couldn't get a flight - hell they wouldn't even let me back in the airport, and that I was scared. I needed a safe place to take my children - please help me, please, please help.
I'm not proud I did that. I actually feel rather ashamed for not be calmer and stronger, but the supervisor called the Ramada in front of me and asked (a lot of pleases to them) and got me a room. It cost me $300. I then had to find a cab to take us there. I went out to the taxi stand and was informed that it was closed for the night. Can I just say that of all the things I expected in New York, things like taxi stands closing at midnight was not one of them? I was told I could hike out to the freeway and try to get one there. I begged again, and he took pity on me and called one in. Three other people showed up behind me and he rolled his eyes and called one for them too.
The guy then went on to say that apparently Delta has been doing this for weeks now. They are using any excuse they can to cancel evening flights. I passed that along to my father, and he said that makes sense since Delta is fighting their way out of Bankruptcy - financially, doing this is good business for them. Anyway, we waited over 30 minutes before the taxi got there. It took us to the hotel (a $20 cab fare for just over 5 minutes in the cab.)
We walked inside the hotel and there was a line of about 60 people in front of us trying to get a room. I heard that even though we prepaid at the airport, they might not have a room. I was tearing up again, but I decided this lobby was safer for sleeping in than the airport bathroom - because we were almost at that point. It was at this point that the only moment of true kindness happened. A woman in front of us was there with her family. They had driven in to catch a flight and were bumped. She heard some of what happened and saw my kids crying (it was almost 1 AM at this point) and she said that if we were turned away that they would personally drive us to another hotel until we found a room. I almost hugged her on the spot, I also almost burst into tears again.
When I got to the counter I was informed that all they had left was a single. I didn't care. I took it. It was the size of a closet, and reeked of smoke so badly I had an asthma attack (since I had my inhaler this was the least of my worries) - but since it had a bathroom and a door lock it was safe. I could stop. I put the kids into bed, both of them sobbing, and snuggled them until they went to sleep. I then called my husband (who I had been in and out of contact all night with on my cell phone.) We agreed that given what we knew that there was a good chance that the NH flight the next night would be canceled too. He was going to come and get us in the morning, even though it's over a six hour drive.
I hung up, and then cried myself to sleep - I think it was just a combination of this all being such a nightmare, and finally being safe after everything we had been through. I slept only a couple of sporadic hours. We had no clothes, or anything because our bags actually WENT to Vermont. The hotel said they had no little packages left of the toothbrush/hairbrush things. So we slept in our clothes and didn't brush our teeth, but that was hardly worth complaining about. I wanted to give the kids a bath in the morning, but the mat in the tub was rotted out and covered with mildew so I opted not to do so. Then the hotel asked us to check out early, after originally telling us we could stay until 1 PM.
I finger combed my hair as best I could and tried to straighten up our clothes, and then we checked out and went down to the restaurant to eat a very slow lunch waiting for my husband who had left first thing in the morning. He finally arrived looking exhausted, but I was so happy to see him. He ate lunch and then we jumped in the car, only to get stuck in a three hour traffic jam through Manhattan. Half way home, my son got car sick and threw up. My daughter had a headache, and I had a migraine. But I have to tell you, when we finally crossed the border back into Vermont everyone cheered.
We arrived home at 10:30 PM last night. I put the kids into a bath, even though they were exhausted. I showered and got into clean clothes as well. There are few things I appreciate more than a pair of clean underwear right now. Before I went to bed, I called Delta and asked about my bags. They're in Vermont at the airport, they refuse to deliver them because they didn't lose them. My argument that they lost ME didn't hold any water apparently. So we have to drive an hour to the airport and pick them up today.
I did ask Delta to take some responsibility for the situation (nightmare), they refused. I'm writing a letter of complaint, but I was told they don't care because this wasn't their fault. So I'm doing the only other thing I can: tell everyone I know never to fly with Delta.
I know I shouldn't still be tearful today, but I am. I slept late this morning, and it was so incredible to wake up in my own bed. I cannot even express how terrifying it was to go through that. It would have been bad in any case, but having my kids with me and feeling as though I couldn't protect and provide for their safety was horrible. I will never be able to get the image of walking on the highway with our backpacks trying to just find a way into the airport in the dark with cars coming at us, or one of the other images of the night that I experienced out of my head. At least I now understand how movies can literally be based on this type of circumstance. Who knew?
I'm working on trying to find the humor in the situation, but minus the fact that apparently Manchester, New Hampshire is a foreign country, I'm just not there yet. Worse yet, in about a week I'm flying to Minnesota with the kids. The last thing I want to do is get on another plane.
I wonder if I'll need a passport to go there? ;)
** Update: We drove to the airport and got all our bags (several with new holes in them, I think to make sure they got in their parting shots at us because they hadn't done enough already) and there were several people in line complaining about various things. The woman at the Delta counter was the ONLY one who said sorry to me at all throughout this whole mess. I am grateful I got my bags, and I'm home. I'm filing a complaint with Delta, the BBB, and the FAA (though I don't see how complaining to the FAA about this would matter - seems out of their jurisdiction, but I'm just going to send the same letter to everyone.) I can't think of anyone else to complain to, so I'll leave it at that.
When I called their "Customer Care Line", the woman immediately went on the attack when I said I had a problem. I can only imagine that she was probably fielding calls all day from upset passengers. I tried to be nice, but being told that an airline cannot possibly accept responsibility for anything that happened really irritated me. Maybe not, but I feel like they should to some degree. I feel that my children and I were victimized by Delta, and no one there even cares - or worse, they think it's funny. That's inexcusable.
** I spoke with the FAA, Department of Transportation this morning (7/30) and she explained the industry is deregulated (did you all know that? I didn't.) They don't have to do anything, it's the airline's choice to help out stranded travelers or not. Still she agreed some of what I went through was simply absurd (like the whole passport thing) and had me file a written complaint. So that covers everyone I think; FAA, BBB, Delta. Now I suppose I just try to forget it and never use Delta again.
Let me preface this by saying if at all possible, NEVER fly through JFK airport in New York, and NEVER EVER use Delta Airlines.
I was scheduled to fly home Thursday morning from Phoenix, AZ. We made wonderful time to the airport, even though there was traffic. I had been concerned about our flight because they admitted they had seriously overbooked it. But fortunately, we made it there early enough and were given three seats in a row for my children and I. After we said goodbye to my father is when it all slowly started to unravel into a nightmare of Hollywood proportions.
The gate area was packed with people waiting for the flight, when someone noticed that the board suddenly displayed a two hour later time of departure. The agents didn't want to announce it, but finally they were forced into it by their supervisor (I got to hear all the behind the scenes chatter between the supervisor and the agents because of where I was sitting.) Apparently, JFK had an "all ground stop" in effect.
I was concerned about my connecting flight, but I was told mine had been delayed just enough too that it shouldn't be a problem. They boarded the flight two hours late, and then informed everyone after sealing the plane that we were "going to a remote location on the tarmac to wait anywhere between an hour to two hours." Fortunately, it was only just over an hour. We had a relatively uneventful flight out to New York, and I thought everything would be fine as I got off the plane.
Unfortunately, I walked into a nightmare. Whatever had happened at JFK earlier had caused a massive circus. I walked into people crammed into every inch of the terminal. People shouting, lines to counters over 100 people long, no restaurants (even fast food) to be had minus a couple stands which we did make use of (two small sandwiches and a water cost me $28!!!) We found a spot on the floor to stick close together and eat, since the screens all said my flight was delayed another two hours to get back to Vermont.
We were eating, and watching people going crazy while Delta did things like load two planes simultaneously through a single gate, when I heard the people say behind me "Damn it! They canceled our flight to Burlington!" Oh dear. Four other flights were canceled up on the board as well.
I gathered up the kids, mid-sandwich, and got into line. We were in the line over an hour. By the time I got to the counter, the agent didn't even speak to me, just took my tickets and started tapping at the computer in a completely bored manner. I finally said "could you maybe tell me what's going on?" She replied that she was looking for the next flight to put me on to Vermont and it was SUNDAY (remember, it's Thursday.) I told her that this wouldn't do, and looked up at the screen. There was a flight leaving for Albany, NY (about 2 1/2 hours from home) in 25 minutes, could they put us on that? No, she informed me - you must be checked in 30 minutes prior. So while there were seats, she refused to put us on the plane. Standby for the next day wasn't an option.
The people next to me were on the same flight having the same problem. We chatted with each other and decided that we would all rent a van and drive back together. Fantastic idea right? So, we all left the counter without getting booked on anything. We're going to drive home, why bother? Ok, note for all the travelers out there - even if you think you are going to do something else, get booked on SOMETHING.
As a group, we went to the vehicle rental area and tried to get a van. Every single rental place was SOLD OUT. I kid you not. We went through ten rental companies. I realized that Enterprise car rentals wasn't listed, called and got the number, talked to a representative who then informed me that while they did have cars, they refused to rent a one way car. The car must be returned to New York. I should mention that my mental state at this point was starting to break down. I begged her, and said that what about another town in New York State? Something close to the border of Vermont? She finally found one and said that would be alright... oh but OOPS for me, they JUST CLOSED! Oh, and besides, it wouldn't seat everyone anyway and she suggested I try for it tomorrow and put the kids in the same seatbelt.
At this point, I was beginning to panic. We were out of car rental options, had no ticket booked or anything. As we turned to go back to the ticket counter (the idea was to ask delta to look at other airlines and see if we could purchase a ticket on there, we were also looking at the bus and so on. I should also add that Delta refused any responsibility for any of this. They said it was due to weather earlier in the day that these flights had been canceled - there was NO weather issues in New York that evening - and so it's our problem not theirs) a couple Delta representatives and security came up and actually KICKED US OUT OF THE AIRPORT!
They said this upstairs Delta area was closed for the night. We explained we needed to get booked on something, have some option, they told us we had to make our way to the night ticketing area. OK, we said, how do we get there. We were told we could have gone through the inside, but they were closed and were not going to make any exceptions, so we should walk around the outside until we found the right way in.
Now, let me explain something to you all - it's after 10 PM, it's dark. There are no side walks. There are no lights. I'm just grateful I wasn't the only one locked out. There were about 15 of us. We had to walk the outside of the airport for over 40 minutes looking for a way in. And by the outside of the airport, I mean we were walking on the highway vehicle on-ramps and roads with oncoming traffic. I cannot begin to express to you my terror of keeping my six and nine year old safe and in my line of sight while walking in the dark on busy roads, locked out of an airport without anywhere to go. We were turned away from multiple entrances by people who could have given a damn.
We finally found the way in, and proceeded to stand in line at least another 30 minutes. I finally got an agent and she spent her time working on my ticket and LAUGHING with the other agents at everyone's distress over the situation. I'm not kidding. I would have leaped over the counter and hurt her if I wasn't so terrified about what the hell I was going to do. I went through the whole dance again about when could I get on a flight to Vermont - Sunday. What about closer to home airports - No. What about flying me through another airport (like Boston, to Vermont) - No. She kept asking about other nearby airports, but there really aren't that many.
I heard someone mention Manchester, NH. I had forgotten that one, and it's still about three hours from home - but better than this. So, I mentioned that one. She said she could get us on that for Friday evening (late). Still, it was better than nothing. Fine. She went tapping away, and then said "Alright, I need your passport."
I figured she was confused and I said "You mean my I.D., right? I have that right here..."
"No, you need a passport."
My jaw dropped. Several things sprung to mind. I suppose the worst one to come out would have been "Are you F****** with me?" Fortunately, the one that actually made it to my vocal cords was "But New Hampshire is a State in the US! Manchester, NH is IN the United States!"
"You still need a passport to go there."
"NO, I DON'T! It's in the USA! I'm not leaving the country to get there, it's not a foreign country, I don't need a passport!"
"Yes you do. You need a passport to go to Manchester."
"You aren't looking at Manchester in the United Kingdom, right? You have the right flight to New Hampshire?"
"Yes, and you need a passport. Without a passport, I cannot book you on this flight."
"I DO NOT NEED A PASSPORT TO GO TO NEW HAMPSHIRE!" At this point I was seriously at my breaking point. The total absurdity of the situation, the fact that it was almost midnight, the nightmare I was in, I almost started crying. How do you convince someone that New Hampshire is in the USA and you don't need a passport? Shouldn't that be common sense for a TICKET AGENT?!?!? I was so blown away, I didn't even know what to do. She may have noticed that I was about to totally lose it, because she took my drivers license and then called someone. They spent over half an hour chatting on the phone (making fun of the people freaking out all around us) and finally booked us on the flight.
I heard one guy a few counters down start screaming "I expect customer service, that's what I expect! You expect that when you go out, why the hell shouldn't I expect it!!!" My agent laughed and shook her head and said in this sing-song voice "The more they shout, the lesssssss we help them! Ha ha!" Another guy was on his cell phone to Delta shouting about how he had paid for trip insurance and everything, and apparently Delta told him since this was due to weather earlier in the day, it wasn't their fault and they owed him nothing. He didn't take that well.
I finally had the tickets, and my children were in tears. I knew I needed to get to somewhere to stay. We went down to the area where they have hotel information and it was completely deserted. It was just a cement area that echoed and one guy working behind a glass enclosed counter that was for hotel room placement. I got there and he immediately shook his head at me and said in broken English "All hotels booked. No rooms."
I said that there had to be rooms somewhere, please, please. He insisted that there was not. The kids were seriously losing it at this point, crying and scared. Hell, I was scared and not far from crying either. The guy's supervisor showed up and tried making some calls, he said there was a motel about 40 minutes out and I'd have to take a cab out there and hope they had a room. It didn't sound good at all, plus I didn't have the cash for a 40 minute cab fare. I did lose it at that point. I started tearing up and said to them that I didn't know what to do. My flights had been canceled, all the cars were sold out, I couldn't get a flight - hell they wouldn't even let me back in the airport, and that I was scared. I needed a safe place to take my children - please help me, please, please help.
I'm not proud I did that. I actually feel rather ashamed for not be calmer and stronger, but the supervisor called the Ramada in front of me and asked (a lot of pleases to them) and got me a room. It cost me $300. I then had to find a cab to take us there. I went out to the taxi stand and was informed that it was closed for the night. Can I just say that of all the things I expected in New York, things like taxi stands closing at midnight was not one of them? I was told I could hike out to the freeway and try to get one there. I begged again, and he took pity on me and called one in. Three other people showed up behind me and he rolled his eyes and called one for them too.
The guy then went on to say that apparently Delta has been doing this for weeks now. They are using any excuse they can to cancel evening flights. I passed that along to my father, and he said that makes sense since Delta is fighting their way out of Bankruptcy - financially, doing this is good business for them. Anyway, we waited over 30 minutes before the taxi got there. It took us to the hotel (a $20 cab fare for just over 5 minutes in the cab.)
We walked inside the hotel and there was a line of about 60 people in front of us trying to get a room. I heard that even though we prepaid at the airport, they might not have a room. I was tearing up again, but I decided this lobby was safer for sleeping in than the airport bathroom - because we were almost at that point. It was at this point that the only moment of true kindness happened. A woman in front of us was there with her family. They had driven in to catch a flight and were bumped. She heard some of what happened and saw my kids crying (it was almost 1 AM at this point) and she said that if we were turned away that they would personally drive us to another hotel until we found a room. I almost hugged her on the spot, I also almost burst into tears again.
When I got to the counter I was informed that all they had left was a single. I didn't care. I took it. It was the size of a closet, and reeked of smoke so badly I had an asthma attack (since I had my inhaler this was the least of my worries) - but since it had a bathroom and a door lock it was safe. I could stop. I put the kids into bed, both of them sobbing, and snuggled them until they went to sleep. I then called my husband (who I had been in and out of contact all night with on my cell phone.) We agreed that given what we knew that there was a good chance that the NH flight the next night would be canceled too. He was going to come and get us in the morning, even though it's over a six hour drive.
I hung up, and then cried myself to sleep - I think it was just a combination of this all being such a nightmare, and finally being safe after everything we had been through. I slept only a couple of sporadic hours. We had no clothes, or anything because our bags actually WENT to Vermont. The hotel said they had no little packages left of the toothbrush/hairbrush things. So we slept in our clothes and didn't brush our teeth, but that was hardly worth complaining about. I wanted to give the kids a bath in the morning, but the mat in the tub was rotted out and covered with mildew so I opted not to do so. Then the hotel asked us to check out early, after originally telling us we could stay until 1 PM.
I finger combed my hair as best I could and tried to straighten up our clothes, and then we checked out and went down to the restaurant to eat a very slow lunch waiting for my husband who had left first thing in the morning. He finally arrived looking exhausted, but I was so happy to see him. He ate lunch and then we jumped in the car, only to get stuck in a three hour traffic jam through Manhattan. Half way home, my son got car sick and threw up. My daughter had a headache, and I had a migraine. But I have to tell you, when we finally crossed the border back into Vermont everyone cheered.
We arrived home at 10:30 PM last night. I put the kids into a bath, even though they were exhausted. I showered and got into clean clothes as well. There are few things I appreciate more than a pair of clean underwear right now. Before I went to bed, I called Delta and asked about my bags. They're in Vermont at the airport, they refuse to deliver them because they didn't lose them. My argument that they lost ME didn't hold any water apparently. So we have to drive an hour to the airport and pick them up today.
I did ask Delta to take some responsibility for the situation (nightmare), they refused. I'm writing a letter of complaint, but I was told they don't care because this wasn't their fault. So I'm doing the only other thing I can: tell everyone I know never to fly with Delta.
I know I shouldn't still be tearful today, but I am. I slept late this morning, and it was so incredible to wake up in my own bed. I cannot even express how terrifying it was to go through that. It would have been bad in any case, but having my kids with me and feeling as though I couldn't protect and provide for their safety was horrible. I will never be able to get the image of walking on the highway with our backpacks trying to just find a way into the airport in the dark with cars coming at us, or one of the other images of the night that I experienced out of my head. At least I now understand how movies can literally be based on this type of circumstance. Who knew?
I'm working on trying to find the humor in the situation, but minus the fact that apparently Manchester, New Hampshire is a foreign country, I'm just not there yet. Worse yet, in about a week I'm flying to Minnesota with the kids. The last thing I want to do is get on another plane.
I wonder if I'll need a passport to go there? ;)
** Update: We drove to the airport and got all our bags (several with new holes in them, I think to make sure they got in their parting shots at us because they hadn't done enough already) and there were several people in line complaining about various things. The woman at the Delta counter was the ONLY one who said sorry to me at all throughout this whole mess. I am grateful I got my bags, and I'm home. I'm filing a complaint with Delta, the BBB, and the FAA (though I don't see how complaining to the FAA about this would matter - seems out of their jurisdiction, but I'm just going to send the same letter to everyone.) I can't think of anyone else to complain to, so I'll leave it at that.
When I called their "Customer Care Line", the woman immediately went on the attack when I said I had a problem. I can only imagine that she was probably fielding calls all day from upset passengers. I tried to be nice, but being told that an airline cannot possibly accept responsibility for anything that happened really irritated me. Maybe not, but I feel like they should to some degree. I feel that my children and I were victimized by Delta, and no one there even cares - or worse, they think it's funny. That's inexcusable.
** I spoke with the FAA, Department of Transportation this morning (7/30) and she explained the industry is deregulated (did you all know that? I didn't.) They don't have to do anything, it's the airline's choice to help out stranded travelers or not. Still she agreed some of what I went through was simply absurd (like the whole passport thing) and had me file a written complaint. So that covers everyone I think; FAA, BBB, Delta. Now I suppose I just try to forget it and never use Delta again.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Binge Reading
As I have said before, I am someone who always has to be in the middle of a book. When I am not, I'm off centre - and trust me, considering how far off the mark I normally am, this is not a good thing. I had a reading dry spell a bit before I came out here to Arizona, and I solicited suggestions for reading material. For some reason, since then, I have been on a reading binge.
It's been about four weeks by my calculations, and I have read over 42 books. No, not comic books, or short stories, but books averaging between 300-800 pages each. There have been mysteries, romances, science fiction, a whole lot of vampires (really enjoyed the J.R. Ward, black dagger series), and more.
You would think that with all the reading I have been doing, that I would be slowing down. But, I'm not. It's getting ridiculous, actually. Night after night I've been staying up late to read. Usually, I'm in the middle of the book, it's good, and I just read late into the evening. But last night I didn't even pick up a book until 10 PM. A new book, one I had not begun to read. I finished it at about 1:30 AM.
Sure, the book wasn't 800 pages long, only 380, but still. Picking up a book when most people are snoozing, and finishing it in one evening is something I haven't done for a few years. Plus, it wasn't exactly that great. I have no idea why I chose to forgo sleep (the kids are better than alarm clocks, waking at 6 AM no matter what time zone they're in.)
Worse, do I feel satisfied? No. I want more books.
Fortunately, I have more on my list. However, the fear I have is that I am heading back to Vermont - the land of nothing. Before I came out here, I requested the first of the Anita Blake (vampire) series at my little local library (I have more books in my home than the town library does - it's the size of a small kitchen.) It took several weeks for it to come in. That makes for a lot of slow reading, and they insist on only requesting one book at a time. It's horrible. I could buy the books, but I honestly don't have the money to spend on books like I would need. I just go through them too quickly. I've been taking advantage of my father's library card while we have been here... but that's about to end.
Back to the late night binge reading - have you ever noticed that staying up late and doing something like watching a movie and hanging out with friends isn't nearly as exhausting as reading or working on a project late into the night? By the time I finished the book I was sleepy and darn near literally cross-eyed. Yet, I am a night owl; 1:30 AM is actually a little early for bed by my natural clock. It's just interesting to me, I suppose. But then again, there is a reason a lot of people like to read before they go to sleep. Just not whole books, I suppose.
On a slightly different slant, I have pulled together some final things and begun writing a new novel. I suppose it's been in the works for years, looking back (as in about 25 years.) I shelved the other one I had been working on intermittently. It just wasn't the right "fit", if that makes any sense. But I am very excited about this one. Sure, it may never see the light of day, but it feels right. Plus, it's something to do while I am trapped in a cabin in Minnesota with all my inlaws for week (without internet - at least they have electricity there. Not much else, but I'll have my laptop!)
It's been about four weeks by my calculations, and I have read over 42 books. No, not comic books, or short stories, but books averaging between 300-800 pages each. There have been mysteries, romances, science fiction, a whole lot of vampires (really enjoyed the J.R. Ward, black dagger series), and more.
You would think that with all the reading I have been doing, that I would be slowing down. But, I'm not. It's getting ridiculous, actually. Night after night I've been staying up late to read. Usually, I'm in the middle of the book, it's good, and I just read late into the evening. But last night I didn't even pick up a book until 10 PM. A new book, one I had not begun to read. I finished it at about 1:30 AM.
Sure, the book wasn't 800 pages long, only 380, but still. Picking up a book when most people are snoozing, and finishing it in one evening is something I haven't done for a few years. Plus, it wasn't exactly that great. I have no idea why I chose to forgo sleep (the kids are better than alarm clocks, waking at 6 AM no matter what time zone they're in.)
Worse, do I feel satisfied? No. I want more books.
Fortunately, I have more on my list. However, the fear I have is that I am heading back to Vermont - the land of nothing. Before I came out here, I requested the first of the Anita Blake (vampire) series at my little local library (I have more books in my home than the town library does - it's the size of a small kitchen.) It took several weeks for it to come in. That makes for a lot of slow reading, and they insist on only requesting one book at a time. It's horrible. I could buy the books, but I honestly don't have the money to spend on books like I would need. I just go through them too quickly. I've been taking advantage of my father's library card while we have been here... but that's about to end.
Back to the late night binge reading - have you ever noticed that staying up late and doing something like watching a movie and hanging out with friends isn't nearly as exhausting as reading or working on a project late into the night? By the time I finished the book I was sleepy and darn near literally cross-eyed. Yet, I am a night owl; 1:30 AM is actually a little early for bed by my natural clock. It's just interesting to me, I suppose. But then again, there is a reason a lot of people like to read before they go to sleep. Just not whole books, I suppose.
On a slightly different slant, I have pulled together some final things and begun writing a new novel. I suppose it's been in the works for years, looking back (as in about 25 years.) I shelved the other one I had been working on intermittently. It just wasn't the right "fit", if that makes any sense. But I am very excited about this one. Sure, it may never see the light of day, but it feels right. Plus, it's something to do while I am trapped in a cabin in Minnesota with all my inlaws for week (without internet - at least they have electricity there. Not much else, but I'll have my laptop!)
Monday, July 16, 2007
A Different Bug
I have the honor of finishing out my trip in AZ with a stomach bug. I suppose it's only karma at work. How long can one claim to be ill to get out of sticky situations and expect to not fall prey to the reality?
I keep feeling a little like the characters in Spaceballs, with their canned air. As long as I don't get beamed with my head on backwards, I suppose I'm doing fairly well. I just have to remind myself not to give anyone the raspberry.
I'm not good at being sick, and all I really want to do now is sleep in my own bed. I think the thing I most miss about my house right now is having all the windows being open. I know that it's simply too hot here to do so, and in the winter while I am bracing my windows against a battering of snow and ice, Arizona is basking in the breezes blowing through. But I still miss the scent of flowers and grass, birds chirping and the winds fingering through the fields.
I keep feeling a little like the characters in Spaceballs, with their canned air. As long as I don't get beamed with my head on backwards, I suppose I'm doing fairly well. I just have to remind myself not to give anyone the raspberry.(did you know there is apparently a sequel in the works for Spaceballs?)
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Sooooo Close
Last year, I unintentionally ended up taking a shower with a big nasty scorpion while visiting here in Arizona. My parents swore backwards and forwards that it was a fluke. They rarely see scorpions. Most people don't see a lot of scorpions in Arizona. Blah blah blah...
I begin to think the reason my parents don't see a lot of scorpions is because their eye sight is failing them. The alternative to this theory is that I'm a freakin' scorpion magnet.
Worse, they're like UPS delivery men - they only show up when I'm naked.
I was so close this trip to not seeing one. Seriously, I've been here for at least a century, right? Only five days and a few hours to go. Not one scorpion. Nope, not a single solitary creepy scary alien scorpion in sight. Then I go to strip down and...
Minding my own business, moving from one area of the bathroom to the other, I mentally note a slightly copper colored smudge out of the corner of my eye. Being that I don't live with these beastly creatures, I don't actually LOOK directly at the smudge. It's just dirt, right? Right?
DAGNABBIT! This thing was hovering over me from up high, easily three inches long. And he was healthy, let me tell you. I looked him up too, he's the one with the venom that is a problem for humans. Figures.
Now, I can't stop jumping at the slightest movement, dirt, dust bunny, you name it. I'm afraid to change my clothes, I'm shaking out bed sheets, I'm checking under counters and chairs. They weird me out on a major level, beyond the normal, I think because they slightly resemble the egg-creatures from Aliens.
I think I'm going to have a nervous breakdown before I make it back home.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Hoggywarted
I just got back from seeing the Harry Potter movie with my daughter. I am more than happy to report that almost no one was in the theater when we went and that I had a completely teenage brat talking, texting cell phone freak, adult blabbermouth free showing!
Even better, the movie didn't stink. Sure, it's not the end all and be all of any movie - much less the series, but that's the way the book was too. A middle plot builder. Other than that, I'm not one to spoil a flick for anyone else. I'd give it a B or a B+.
I know, it's becoming all the rage to think the Harry Potter series is stupid. I've seen it on multiple blogs. It just so happens that I love the books regardless. I'm less thrilled about the movies, but I am that way with almost every movie based on a book (the movie Practical Magic being the exception where the reverse is true.)
Mr. Savy also likes the Harry Potter series, but it might have something to do with the new uniforms he found and suggested I wear for him when the seventh book arrives late next week...
Looks kinda drafty to me, but it IS summer I suppose. And it does come with a wand...
Even better, the movie didn't stink. Sure, it's not the end all and be all of any movie - much less the series, but that's the way the book was too. A middle plot builder. Other than that, I'm not one to spoil a flick for anyone else. I'd give it a B or a B+.
I know, it's becoming all the rage to think the Harry Potter series is stupid. I've seen it on multiple blogs. It just so happens that I love the books regardless. I'm less thrilled about the movies, but I am that way with almost every movie based on a book (the movie Practical Magic being the exception where the reverse is true.)
Mr. Savy also likes the Harry Potter series, but it might have something to do with the new uniforms he found and suggested I wear for him when the seventh book arrives late next week...
Looks kinda drafty to me, but it IS summer I suppose. And it does come with a wand...
Rats, Tickets, and Texters
Yesterday was truly a really fabulous day!
Ticket-obsession is totally irrational. You have to earn 1,000 tickets to get one of the prizes that costs less than 25 cents (actually, their prizes this time were a lot cheaper and tackier than when I was a kid too - it must be due to inflation.) You even KNOW where you can get something exactly the same for that much, but you just can't help yourself. You must win it through the accumulation of tickets, or it isn't the same.
My daughter did something yesterday that I never managed to do in my life. She learned how to kick butt on Skee-Ball. Whenever I have ever played Skee-ball, I was never able to hit those two high points on either side. If I did, it was completely unintentional (and I was probably aiming for a different lane.) The best I could hope for were the ones in the middle.
Somehow, my daughter figured it out. She kept nailing those 100,000 point areas consistently. Even better, the machines were hooked up to a "jackpot" counter. If you got over 450,000 points you won a massive amount of tickets in addition to the normal ones that were spit out. My daughter kept hitting the jackpot. The first time she hit it, it spat out over 200 tickets. Her eyes glazed over, and for a moment I thought she was just going to roll in the massive pile at her feet.
Unfortunately, the jackpot would reset to zero and work it's way back up again - but she kept hitting it regardless. They don't happen to have Skee-ball as an Olympic sport, do they?
I got to play games too, and I managed to help my son (who was no slouch himself) collect enough tickets that they both got some completely worthless junk at the ticket counter and left in a blissful haze. The kids are happy and smiling again. It's amazing what one good day can do for kids.
My daughter, my father, and I are going to see the Harry Potter movie today. I'm hoping it goes well. Not because of my father, but because the last time I went to a Harry Potter movie out here I almost committed murder. It was last year, and I sat in front of a pair of adults who would NOT SHUT UP the entire time. It was HORRIBLE. I swore never to go to the theater again. But, of course, as soon as I got here we started attending movies.
Actually, I do still go for children's movies. You expect kids to chat a bit, and so it doesn't cause the movie-rage that I experience. But honestly? Kids shut up during the parts where you are supposed to pay attention. Adults feel that intense, quiet, serious moments during a movie are when they should expound upon the plot lines and their own brilliance thereby informing and impressing all those around them in the theater. Why is that?
We went to see The Fantastic 4; Silver Surfer movie a few days ago. I liked it, but I found that there is a new menace during movies - people texting. Why would you pay to go to a movie and then sit in a darkened theater with your giant screen illuminated in front of you, texting yourself into oblivion? I just don't get it. I have decided that texters are better than talkers, but it is still rather distracting because those screens could land planes, they're so bright.
I bet a laser pointer could make for a lot of fun revenge upon the texters. Not to mention, a laser pointer is a lot more benign compared to what I want to do to the talkers.
Well, we'll be off to the movie soon. We're going to try and go during the day to avoid the more adult crowd as they talk more than the younger ones do. Wish us luck!
It began with my father playing with my kids all on his own, and ended with my kids and I swimming late into the evening just having a great time together by 
ourselves. In the middle was the giant rat with pizza. I still firmly believe that someone was deliberately goading a health inspector by choosing a rat as a restaurant's mascot.
ourselves. In the middle was the giant rat with pizza. I still firmly believe that someone was deliberately goading a health inspector by choosing a rat as a restaurant's mascot.I remember when a Chuck E. Cheese opened when I was a kid. I was young, my brother was younger, and it was his favorite place for a birthday party. Back then it was a little different. Instead of a robotic life sized puppet like they have now of Chuck E. Cheese that performs every 10 minutes with a video back-up of cartoon characters blasting on the screens all along the walls, they had their poor wait staff dress up in all the characters and put on a show every 90 minutes. There were more video games that were more... mature, and a lot less of the "baby" type of games.
As kids, we avoided those baby-type games. My kids didn't yesterday because they knew those would spit out tickets, and might be easier than some of the other ticket-earners. My children became obsessed with earning tickets. I remember feeling that obsession too.
Ticket-obsession is totally irrational. You have to earn 1,000 tickets to get one of the prizes that costs less than 25 cents (actually, their prizes this time were a lot cheaper and tackier than when I was a kid too - it must be due to inflation.) You even KNOW where you can get something exactly the same for that much, but you just can't help yourself. You must win it through the accumulation of tickets, or it isn't the same.
My daughter did something yesterday that I never managed to do in my life. She learned how to kick butt on Skee-Ball. Whenever I have ever played Skee-ball, I was never able to hit those two high points on either side. If I did, it was completely unintentional (and I was probably aiming for a different lane.) The best I could hope for were the ones in the middle.Somehow, my daughter figured it out. She kept nailing those 100,000 point areas consistently. Even better, the machines were hooked up to a "jackpot" counter. If you got over 450,000 points you won a massive amount of tickets in addition to the normal ones that were spit out. My daughter kept hitting the jackpot. The first time she hit it, it spat out over 200 tickets. Her eyes glazed over, and for a moment I thought she was just going to roll in the massive pile at her feet.
Unfortunately, the jackpot would reset to zero and work it's way back up again - but she kept hitting it regardless. They don't happen to have Skee-ball as an Olympic sport, do they?
I got to play games too, and I managed to help my son (who was no slouch himself) collect enough tickets that they both got some completely worthless junk at the ticket counter and left in a blissful haze. The kids are happy and smiling again. It's amazing what one good day can do for kids.
My daughter, my father, and I are going to see the Harry Potter movie today. I'm hoping it goes well. Not because of my father, but because the last time I went to a Harry Potter movie out here I almost committed murder. It was last year, and I sat in front of a pair of adults who would NOT SHUT UP the entire time. It was HORRIBLE. I swore never to go to the theater again. But, of course, as soon as I got here we started attending movies.
Actually, I do still go for children's movies. You expect kids to chat a bit, and so it doesn't cause the movie-rage that I experience. But honestly? Kids shut up during the parts where you are supposed to pay attention. Adults feel that intense, quiet, serious moments during a movie are when they should expound upon the plot lines and their own brilliance thereby informing and impressing all those around them in the theater. Why is that?
We went to see The Fantastic 4; Silver Surfer movie a few days ago. I liked it, but I found that there is a new menace during movies - people texting. Why would you pay to go to a movie and then sit in a darkened theater with your giant screen illuminated in front of you, texting yourself into oblivion? I just don't get it. I have decided that texters are better than talkers, but it is still rather distracting because those screens could land planes, they're so bright.
I bet a laser pointer could make for a lot of fun revenge upon the texters. Not to mention, a laser pointer is a lot more benign compared to what I want to do to the talkers.
Well, we'll be off to the movie soon. We're going to try and go during the day to avoid the more adult crowd as they talk more than the younger ones do. Wish us luck!
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
On A Lighter Note...
Ok, I confess: I don't get it. I don't understand the Cold Stone phenomenon.
For those who don't have one (we don't in Vermont, it's Ben & Jerry's country and people will fight to the death over it) it's an ice cream parlor that scoops out a flavor of ice cream with nothing in it. Then you pick "toppings" like crushed candy bars, cookies, nuts, sauces, etc, and they then mash it together with two ice cream spatulas on a "stone" into a big gooey mess, throw it in cup and charge you more than you would have paid for a gallon of ice cream at the grocery store across the street.
It's a big deal to a lot of people, but I really just don't see the attraction. We went there last night (I took everyone out for ice cream because my kids were having a crying fest about wanting to go home, and miserable) and the kids didn't quite get it either. My daughter looked up at me and said "isn't this what we do to our ice cream at home anyway? We mash it all up?"
The only answer I had was that perhaps others had not discovered the joys of mashing, and that this was a new experience for them. My husband, while he was here, loved it. But then, he's not the ice cream aficionado I am.
I got the "peanut butter cup perfection" - which I know comes as no surprise to most of you. 
Minus the giant swath of peanut butter that ended up stuck to the roof of my mouth unexpectedly (I think they didn't "mash" mine quite right) it was rather unremarkable. Not to mention it only had about 3/4 of a Reese's cup in it. That picture shows a lot more than that. I was disappointed, to say the least.
So, am I just missing the point? Have people not been mashing their ice cream into big gooey messes all on their own before now, or was it just me? Was it just me, and I should have opened a line of stores to bring the gooey mashy mess to the masses and I missed a big opportunity because I thought everyone already knew how to do this?
*sigh* Another million dollar idea lost. I'd be SO rich by now. I wonder what other things I do normally would be a big hit with the public. You all know about putting cheese on a pizza, right? ;)
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Dreams and Snacks
Have you ever noticed how dreams can completely mess you up for the following day? I have seen women brought to their knees because of bad hair days, but nothing affects me quite as poorly as having a series of disturbing dreams the night before.
I keep dreaming horrible things. Everything from WWIII starting and standing outside watching as the missiles (which were the size of cruise ships) zooming overhead, to getting in the worst fight ever with my mother here and her kicking me out and not being able to find any room at any hotel anywhere and thinking if we slept in the car we'd all die from the heat. These dreams do not make for "feel good" mornings.
I'm chalking up all the dreams to the food here. I'd say it was something in the water, but the water isn't packing pounds onto me like I'm a storage bin. I'm literally drowning in the food here. OK, not just the food but the attitude. There is lots of eating out going on, and when you don't participate it causes massive fights. But when you do, you wake up with 15 lbs of water weight and hating yourself.
In the past, the general truth that "in the end, no one cares what you eat or don't, just so long as you are there to enjoy the company and be a part of things" held true. If I ate or didn't, it really only came down to how I felt about it. But this time around my mother has taken everything with a personal offence. I took the kids and my mom out to Wendy's and she was angry for the rest of the day (and maybe part of the next) that I ate nothing while she had ice cream and the biggest chicken sandwich I have ever seen in my life. Seriously, the portions at Wendy's was really surprising.
Yesterday, while at the mall with my mother and daughter, there was a snack stop where she had promised my daughter ice cream - which I ended up buying. It was really weird - she just walked off. But I figured out that she had thought that if I bought my daughter a Blizzard, that I would buy one for myself. I didn't. She came back over with a giant cinnamon roll and was grumpy with me while she ate it and my daughter had her little ice cream.
And this is all not to say that I haven't been participating in the gluttony. I have. Just not all of it. But I'm paying for every single bite I have eaten. Last night they took us out for Mexican food that was Divine, but I brought most of mine home in a box (which I will donate to my husband.) Still, I'm so swollen that I think I'm going for a world's record in water retention.
Every morning is the same. My mother comes waddling out and starts in on how she can't eat like this anymore and it's my fault since we're visiting, and why did I "let her" get into that junk, and why am I encouraging this kind of behavior. It does no good to point out that I am not, and that two out of three times I am not participating. I simply agree that I would rather not continue on with eating like this. A couple of times it made me very ill, even. It's not as if it's creating good feelings or a good time.
Somehow, in all of this, my mother decided that what I eat has a direct effect on her, and when there is anything off plan it's all my fault. I'm still trying to work out the details, but in short - I can't win. This is very frustrating because I have enough problems with my own issues thank you very much, without taking on my mother's. I had a plan for behaving myself out here and while it hasn't completely gone out the window, it's a close call. Having the responsibility (as completely IRRATIONAL as it is) placed on me for whether my mother does well or not, or how she feels about what I am doing, just.... well, it makes me really angry is what it does. Some daughter I am, eh? I tried, like a stupid fool, to say to my mother before she started in on a bin of donuts that maybe she would rather stay on track - how about an apple?
I'm lucky my head is still attached to my body.
So, it's a catch 22. It's about ignoring my mother (something I've been working on for 32 years, apparently,) doing my own thing, saying no, staying on track, and refusing to accept any responsibility thrown my way but my own. And, since I know how well I fare with my parents and food issues, my daughter has given me a good idea. All this swimming has upset her stomach, and she hasn't been eating much. Well, as much as I don't want my mother following me around and asking how I am doing - I think it might be the lesser of two evils to just say I feel sick and that's why I am not partaking of whatever it is that they have gotten themselves into now.
It's cowardly, I know. But I can't think of any other options that don't cause more strife. You have to remember that my mother is not dealing with a full deck of cards. It's a horrible thing to say, but that is what her disease has done to her. Irrationality is the rule, and arguing is futile. So, from here on out, I'm just going to play the "my stomach is upset" card at the table. Something I should have done right when I figured out what was going on. Eating instead has only made ME pay for it dearly. I'd rather be frustrated with my family, than hating myself for increasing my dress size 200% while I'm here.
I keep dreaming horrible things. Everything from WWIII starting and standing outside watching as the missiles (which were the size of cruise ships) zooming overhead, to getting in the worst fight ever with my mother here and her kicking me out and not being able to find any room at any hotel anywhere and thinking if we slept in the car we'd all die from the heat. These dreams do not make for "feel good" mornings.
I'm chalking up all the dreams to the food here. I'd say it was something in the water, but the water isn't packing pounds onto me like I'm a storage bin. I'm literally drowning in the food here. OK, not just the food but the attitude. There is lots of eating out going on, and when you don't participate it causes massive fights. But when you do, you wake up with 15 lbs of water weight and hating yourself.
In the past, the general truth that "in the end, no one cares what you eat or don't, just so long as you are there to enjoy the company and be a part of things" held true. If I ate or didn't, it really only came down to how I felt about it. But this time around my mother has taken everything with a personal offence. I took the kids and my mom out to Wendy's and she was angry for the rest of the day (and maybe part of the next) that I ate nothing while she had ice cream and the biggest chicken sandwich I have ever seen in my life. Seriously, the portions at Wendy's was really surprising.
Yesterday, while at the mall with my mother and daughter, there was a snack stop where she had promised my daughter ice cream - which I ended up buying. It was really weird - she just walked off. But I figured out that she had thought that if I bought my daughter a Blizzard, that I would buy one for myself. I didn't. She came back over with a giant cinnamon roll and was grumpy with me while she ate it and my daughter had her little ice cream.
And this is all not to say that I haven't been participating in the gluttony. I have. Just not all of it. But I'm paying for every single bite I have eaten. Last night they took us out for Mexican food that was Divine, but I brought most of mine home in a box (which I will donate to my husband.) Still, I'm so swollen that I think I'm going for a world's record in water retention.
Every morning is the same. My mother comes waddling out and starts in on how she can't eat like this anymore and it's my fault since we're visiting, and why did I "let her" get into that junk, and why am I encouraging this kind of behavior. It does no good to point out that I am not, and that two out of three times I am not participating. I simply agree that I would rather not continue on with eating like this. A couple of times it made me very ill, even. It's not as if it's creating good feelings or a good time.
Somehow, in all of this, my mother decided that what I eat has a direct effect on her, and when there is anything off plan it's all my fault. I'm still trying to work out the details, but in short - I can't win. This is very frustrating because I have enough problems with my own issues thank you very much, without taking on my mother's. I had a plan for behaving myself out here and while it hasn't completely gone out the window, it's a close call. Having the responsibility (as completely IRRATIONAL as it is) placed on me for whether my mother does well or not, or how she feels about what I am doing, just.... well, it makes me really angry is what it does. Some daughter I am, eh? I tried, like a stupid fool, to say to my mother before she started in on a bin of donuts that maybe she would rather stay on track - how about an apple?
I'm lucky my head is still attached to my body.
So, it's a catch 22. It's about ignoring my mother (something I've been working on for 32 years, apparently,) doing my own thing, saying no, staying on track, and refusing to accept any responsibility thrown my way but my own. And, since I know how well I fare with my parents and food issues, my daughter has given me a good idea. All this swimming has upset her stomach, and she hasn't been eating much. Well, as much as I don't want my mother following me around and asking how I am doing - I think it might be the lesser of two evils to just say I feel sick and that's why I am not partaking of whatever it is that they have gotten themselves into now.
It's cowardly, I know. But I can't think of any other options that don't cause more strife. You have to remember that my mother is not dealing with a full deck of cards. It's a horrible thing to say, but that is what her disease has done to her. Irrationality is the rule, and arguing is futile. So, from here on out, I'm just going to play the "my stomach is upset" card at the table. Something I should have done right when I figured out what was going on. Eating instead has only made ME pay for it dearly. I'd rather be frustrated with my family, than hating myself for increasing my dress size 200% while I'm here.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Roaches and Wii's
Mr. Savy has had an interesting vacation here in Arizona so far. His flight came in late, and once we arrived at my parents house, he was chased across the driveway by a cockroach the size of a sedan. I didn't appreciate this very much, because he ran towards ME, and then the thing changed direction and chased me across the lawn instead.
That was fairly exciting.
Since then, after realizing the level of tension (and boredom) present within the household, Mr. Savy has been on the hunt for a Wii (he's been asking for one since they first came out, and saw this as a banner opportunity.) He called everywhere. No one had any. He asked when some might be delivered "we don't know, maybe Friday..." everyone told him. Still, he was hopeful, even when some of them just laughed in response to him asking if they had any in stock.
Today we all set out to see the movie Ratatouille. My father got the wrong showtime, and we ended up browsing at the Walmart instead. I found a pair of shorts I wanted to try on, while my daughter was knee deep in the overalls. I was standing in the stressing...er, I mean dressing room in my underwear when I heard my father calling from outside in an urgent tone. Mr. Savy needed me... NOW!!!
Seriously, I thought maybe a beam had fallen from the ceiling and he was trapped or something.
I got dressed and was lead to the electronics department where I found Mr. Savy at the register - clinging to the very last Wii in the store, growling at other passing customers. I considered this a bit of an over reaction, until I realized there were several other customers actually circling him like sharks in the water having scented blood. THEY wanted the Wii. Apparently, they had just set out their delivery of three Wii's not 10 minutes ago. Mr. Savy got the last one. They got three and there were about 10 other people standing there who wanted one.
Mr. Savy was ready to bite someone.
He looked up when he saw me, glassy eyed... "PLEASE??? Can I? Can I?"
I guess video games really do cause men to revert to being three years old.
He's now in the other room hooking the system up. I have no idea if we'll make it to the movie later this afternoon or not. It depends on how much separation anxiety sets in when we part him from the Wii.
Update: We saw the movie, it was very cute. But VERY loud for young kids.
That was fairly exciting.
Since then, after realizing the level of tension (and boredom) present within the household, Mr. Savy has been on the hunt for a Wii (he's been asking for one since they first came out, and saw this as a banner opportunity.) He called everywhere. No one had any. He asked when some might be delivered "we don't know, maybe Friday..." everyone told him. Still, he was hopeful, even when some of them just laughed in response to him asking if they had any in stock.
Today we all set out to see the movie Ratatouille. My father got the wrong showtime, and we ended up browsing at the Walmart instead. I found a pair of shorts I wanted to try on, while my daughter was knee deep in the overalls. I was standing in the stressing...er, I mean dressing room in my underwear when I heard my father calling from outside in an urgent tone. Mr. Savy needed me... NOW!!!
Seriously, I thought maybe a beam had fallen from the ceiling and he was trapped or something.
I got dressed and was lead to the electronics department where I found Mr. Savy at the register - clinging to the very last Wii in the store, growling at other passing customers. I considered this a bit of an over reaction, until I realized there were several other customers actually circling him like sharks in the water having scented blood. THEY wanted the Wii. Apparently, they had just set out their delivery of three Wii's not 10 minutes ago. Mr. Savy got the last one. They got three and there were about 10 other people standing there who wanted one.
Mr. Savy was ready to bite someone.
He looked up when he saw me, glassy eyed... "PLEASE??? Can I? Can I?"
I guess video games really do cause men to revert to being three years old.
He's now in the other room hooking the system up. I have no idea if we'll make it to the movie later this afternoon or not. It depends on how much separation anxiety sets in when we part him from the Wii.
Update: We saw the movie, it was very cute. But VERY loud for young kids.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
When It's Just More
One of the things I was looking forward to on this trip to Arizona are all the stores. Where I live, we really don't have any. The grocery store is about 25-30 minutes one way, and that's just for the closest, most overpriced, lacking in selection store. The decent one is an hour away. Strip malls barely exist. Big box stores, only a walmart an hour away, and one "big shopping mall" the size of your average strip mall for most places. When they say small town, they mean it - in miniature.
I was looking forward to coming out here and being able to find whatever I wanted in some form or fashion. I mean, come on, these people can actually call for food and have it delivered! Nothing is delivered where I live, unless it comes in UPS or FedEx packaging, and even then you have to bribe the delivery men (or be getting dressed, so they can catch you in a completely compromising, embarrassing, and inconvenient moment.) Here, you can make a call and 20 minutes later a kid with enough acne to rival Brian, from my 7th grade biology course (trust me, I'm sure Guinness World Records was in contact with him) shows up with a box full of food you didn't have to cook yourself.
Will wonders never cease.
Except after a few days here, and seeing strip mall after beige strip mall it's all started to blend together (seriously, how do people find their way around out here? Everything is the same color - sand. The houses, the stores, the ground, everything.) I think I am quickly approaching the "Instead of looking at all these different stores... it all just seems like more. Sometimes more is just more."
Of course, I haven't been to the mall yet. So I'm sure I'll be feeling all peppy again when I get there.
Mr. Savy arrived last night bearing tons of Swiss chocolate (he just returned from Germany and Switzerland.) You gotta love a man who knows how to greet a family after visiting a foreign country. Especially when he goes on to regale you with stories about how he and his team went out for dinner and were approached by these nice women... who turned out to be prostitutes, and then goes on to explain with a pout how none of the women propositioned him - only his teammates. Yeah, see how much sympathy I DON'T have for him. *giggle* He was the only one wearing a wedding ring, so I imagine that was why they didn't bother with him. I told him that he was just going to have to face being left out of certain bonding events, and to "buck up lil'soldier!"
The decision has also been made to buy a Nintendo Wii. My brother has one out here and everyone seems to love it. The only problem is that Mr. Savy wants to buy one now to give us another activity while we're here and then to take it back with us - which would be fine except that no one has a Wii for sale out here. It's amazing, really. In Vermont EVERYONE had one. Circuit City, Best Buy, Walmart. No where were these things sold out before we left. Out here? Forget it.
I wonder why it is that they're so popular here in Arizona, yet in Vermont it's as if no one has even heard they have been released? There are some interesting jokes to be had there, I'm sure.
So, I'm on a mission, armed with a phone book, facing the multitude of strip malls. Lets see what a plethora of amenities can actually yield. Wish me luck.
I was looking forward to coming out here and being able to find whatever I wanted in some form or fashion. I mean, come on, these people can actually call for food and have it delivered! Nothing is delivered where I live, unless it comes in UPS or FedEx packaging, and even then you have to bribe the delivery men (or be getting dressed, so they can catch you in a completely compromising, embarrassing, and inconvenient moment.) Here, you can make a call and 20 minutes later a kid with enough acne to rival Brian, from my 7th grade biology course (trust me, I'm sure Guinness World Records was in contact with him) shows up with a box full of food you didn't have to cook yourself.
Will wonders never cease.
Except after a few days here, and seeing strip mall after beige strip mall it's all started to blend together (seriously, how do people find their way around out here? Everything is the same color - sand. The houses, the stores, the ground, everything.) I think I am quickly approaching the "Instead of looking at all these different stores... it all just seems like more. Sometimes more is just more."
Of course, I haven't been to the mall yet. So I'm sure I'll be feeling all peppy again when I get there.
Mr. Savy arrived last night bearing tons of Swiss chocolate (he just returned from Germany and Switzerland.) You gotta love a man who knows how to greet a family after visiting a foreign country. Especially when he goes on to regale you with stories about how he and his team went out for dinner and were approached by these nice women... who turned out to be prostitutes, and then goes on to explain with a pout how none of the women propositioned him - only his teammates. Yeah, see how much sympathy I DON'T have for him. *giggle* He was the only one wearing a wedding ring, so I imagine that was why they didn't bother with him. I told him that he was just going to have to face being left out of certain bonding events, and to "buck up lil'soldier!"
The decision has also been made to buy a Nintendo Wii. My brother has one out here and everyone seems to love it. The only problem is that Mr. Savy wants to buy one now to give us another activity while we're here and then to take it back with us - which would be fine except that no one has a Wii for sale out here. It's amazing, really. In Vermont EVERYONE had one. Circuit City, Best Buy, Walmart. No where were these things sold out before we left. Out here? Forget it.
I wonder why it is that they're so popular here in Arizona, yet in Vermont it's as if no one has even heard they have been released? There are some interesting jokes to be had there, I'm sure.
So, I'm on a mission, armed with a phone book, facing the multitude of strip malls. Lets see what a plethora of amenities can actually yield. Wish me luck.
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