Why are all the good blog names taken?

Abuela

2012-01-27T18:27:00.000-05:00

When I reached middle age I began to imagine myself as a grandmother. I often wondered whether my grandchildren would love me as much as they would love their other grandmother. I imagined this unknown rival for my grandchildren's affection as a petite, sweet woman. Surely she would be all smiles and hugs and chocolate chip cookies, typical grandmother material. How would I ever compete? Me - towering over them with my pragmatism, sarcasm and biting wit.

My own life experience should have made me realize these thoughts were ridiculous. I was fortunate enough to get to know both my grandmothers. I never compared the love I had for each of them. I loved them equally but in different ways.

My paternal grandmother was very involved in my life. I saw her regularly until her death when I was 30 years old. I knew her strengths and her weaknesses and loved her dearly. She was an intelligent, beautiful woman who always managed to make me feel special. My maternal grandmother lived in Germany. I saw her rarely. When I did see her I needed a translator because she didn't speak English and I didn't speak German. Even so, I was captivated by her quiet, calm demeanor. Her personal stories of WWII Germany were told in the most matter of fact way despite the horror she faced. She was a strong, sensible woman who didn't let her difficult life diminish the joy she took in living.

Choosing which one I loved more would be preposterous. They were both a part of me and me of them. It wasn't a contest.

I met my daughter's mother-in-law at the wedding in October 2009. She was sweet and kind and loving and tiny. A strong contender for the affection of our future grandchildren. But instead of confirming my worst fears I suddenly realized that any thoughts of rivalry were complete and utter nonsense. She and her husband seemed like family from the minute we met. Such wonderful people. My daughter couldn't have picked a better family to become a part of. How lucky my grandkids would be to have one big, loving family. I began to imagine the joy she and I would share, both being grandmothers to the same wonderful grandchildren.

Sadly, this wonderful woman passed away last May. I think about her often. She was a special woman. I feel ashamed now of my petty worries about who would be favorite. I am overcome with sadness when I think about the loss her husband and sons must bear every day. I am also deeply sad for the grandchildren who will never know her gentle kindness, her genuine warmth and her loving hugs. They will have to rely on their father to tell them what a special person she was. I would gladly play second fiddle to her if only it would bring her back. All I'll be able to do though is give those grandkids an extra little squeeze from her every time I hug them, and I will.

Be careful that your "Line in the Sand" isn't really drawn in cement.

2011-11-19T15:21:00.002-05:00

Is your story about what a hardass you are so fragile that you are willing to ruin family relationships over it? I guess they really weren't that important to you in the first place. One after the other.

They Don't Wear Buttons

2011-11-13T09:29:00.000-05:00

Monsters don't wear buttons. It's in their best interest to blend in with the rest of us. To look like the "nice guy next door", "the faithful husband", or even "the well respected coach". Sadly, the people who end up seeing what lurks in a monster's heart are his victims.

We had a next door neighbor in the old neighborhood who was a monster. At least his suicide leads me to believe the stories were true. Having served time in prison for selling drugs I think he knew what was in store for him once his girlfriend called the police. He had been messing around with her very young daughters. Probably not a predator but a sick opportunist. He slit his wrists while lying in a bathtub full of water.

I had lived next door to the man for 15 years and never would have suspected. He seemed pretty harmless to me. I guess to grown ups he was.

Creeps are different than monsters. They're openly slimy. Like the cashier at the grocery store who can't take his eyes off of the women's chests. All the while he has a disgusting lecherous smile on his face. Creeps are easy to avoid. Just pick a different line.

But watch out for monsters. Don't assume that the unthinkable is impossible. That so and so would never do such and such. That's what monsters want you to think.

Same as I've Always Been

2011-10-21T12:29:00.000-04:00

The farther I get into middle age the more marginalized I feel. Young adults, strangers and family alike, have a way of talking to me lately that makes me feel like they are drawing on some deep reserve of patience to get through their interchange with me. I have become mostly invisible to the younger generation. When they are forced to deal with me it often doesn't go well. My life experience sometimes puts me a step ahead of them. I'm anticipating where things are going to go and try to skip a few steps to get us where we are going to end up anyway. After all, time is getting shorter and shorter for me. I want to hurry these mundane interactions along as much as possible. They don't hear that I just gave them the answer to the next five questions they are going to ask. They roll their eyes, sigh and go back to question one. I sigh, roll my eyes back at them and go through their step by step routine with them. Then they think I'm cranky as well as clueless.

In my own family I see the young people's lives expanding and growing beyond my realm. Not just my realm of influence but also of inclusion. They have big, busy, successful lives that I am a smaller and smaller part of. They are independent grownups leading full and rich lives. I am happy for them. Even so I still find myself feeling left out sometimes or worrying that I'm being a nuisance when I call. Sometimes after I talk to one of them I think to myself "I wonder if this is how Mom felt when this happened to her?" It makes me wish I could go back in time having experienced the dynamics of both sides. I would have been more understanding and patient. A little less, "yeah, yeah Mom, I know......"

I have my own life and most parts of it are better than they have ever been, my marriage, my relationships with friends and family, my confidence in who I am and what I am about. But this shift in my position within society and especially my family is unsettling. I waited a few days to post this. I know my kids read my blog and I don't want them to get the wrong idea or to feel bad. I don't want sympathy or for them to change anything. Just to know that I understand things are different and that it's going to take some getting used to. I'll get through it.

Not Worth It

2011-09-28T22:27:00.002-04:00

I'm not sure when the freeways of this country turned into Mad Max all day, every day. It's been a gradual sort of thing. I would wager that the decline in civility closely tracks the increase in both the average video game hours played per US citizen and the number of reality TV shows being aired. We've lost our ability to empathize with one another. The cars around us aren't filled with other human beings living the same sorts of lives we do. They are competitors, trying to get an edge over me, take advantage of me, God forbid - get one or two cars ahead of me. People cut you off, don't use their blinkers, won't let you in when you use your blinker. Everybody is out for themselves, screw the next guy.

I am just as guilty as the next person too. I recently had a whole line of cars refuse to let me into their lane even though I was approaching a construction barricade with nowhere else to go. I hadn't tried to zip ahead of anybody. I tried to get over as soon as I saw the merge sign. I didn't do anything to warrant this animosity. Clearly the only motivation was not wanting another person in front of them. I don't know where they thought I was going to go. I had to merge. I finally muscled my way in.

I could have left it there, ignored the lane blockers. Instead, in keeping with Mad Max rules, I did my best to give back as good as I got. I let everybody who had been behind me in the merging lane go in front of me. The lane blockers had to sit and watch as car after car pulled in front of them. They were furious. I cackled madly at them. It felt like a victory. I had a car full of people. Looking back on it, not one of my better moments, quite the maniacal spectacle to behold.

Every day I drive the same freeway to and from work. M14 between Plymouth and Ann Arbor. The same drama plays out every day. Left lane is for faster traffic and right lane is for slower traffic. The left lane generally moves along at an acceptable pace. Occasionally somebody goes too slowly and you pass when you can. Every single day one or more people come speeding up from the right lane, even though they clearly see that the right lane is blocked and at some point they will have to cut somebody off to get back into the left lane. I feel my blood pressure rising. I start thinking "Oh no you don't". Then I realize I've got a death grip in the steering wheel and am tailgating to keep people from getting into the left lane.

Stop. Take a deep breath. Think about this for a minute. It's not going to kill me to let them in. I'm not actually teaching them any lessons. They'll be back the next day doing it all over again. I back off and let them go in front of me.

When I am nice and considerate you should see how smug and satisfied I am with myself. When I take pity on some poor soul and wave them into the spot in front of me. I act as if I've just performed some great humanitarian act. See how considerate I am? I'm not like the rest of these barbarians. I get so mad when people don't acknowledge my courtesy. A wave? I don't get a wave? This small act of benevolence is way out proportion with the huge pat on the back I give myself. Shouldn't this be the standard? Some patience, consideration and a little bit of "live and let live" would go a long way towards making everybody a little less stressed out all the freaking time.

The more I think about this the more parallels I see to the current political landscape. No ground will be given so everything must be seized.

Never the Same

2011-09-11T19:42:00.005-04:00

Of course I remember where I was on September 11, 2001.

I had just finished having breakfast with somebody we were thinking about re-hiring at work. He was a friend too. It was a nice breakfast. It was a beautiful fall day. I got to the office, sat down at my desk and immediately got a phone call from my husband. He said "They're crashing planes into the World Trade Center." I didn't believe him. Then I saw all the commotion out in the office. People on the phone, people talking in a very animated way. I stepped outside my office door. Everybody else was saying the same thing.

I'm sure most of you were glued to your TVs throughout the day, like I was. I was horrified, shocked and yet somehow it seemed unreal. This couldn't really be happening. Then rumors started about other planes not accounted for, other targets. We let everybody go home. Nobody knew how widespread it was or when it would stop.

I thought about how less than a year before I had been in New York for an annual meeting with the HR people from our affiliates around the country. Our meeting had been in the North Tower of the World Trade Center, the 90 something floor. I don't remember exactly. It was hosted by our insurance broker, Marsh McLennan. They were very nice offices and the view from that high up was impressive. I remember the towers swaying slightly and I remember a helicopter flying by below us. While I was in that meeting my husband and kids, who had come with me on the trip, were touring the top of the South Tower of the WTC and the plaza below.

Eleven months later the eight floors of the North Tower that Marsh occupied took a direct hit from AA Flight 11, the first plane to hit. Nobody at work that day for Marsh McLennan at the WTC survived the attack. Two hundred ninety five people gone. I remember talking to our broker a few months after the attack. His office was in mid-town, not the towers. He was so profoundly sad, having attended funeral after funeral for his lost co-workers. I couldn't help thinking about how it could have been us there had the attack been 11 months earlier. I was so thankful my family was safe.

The devastation of 9/11 really hit me when I got a call from my friend. Her niece had been on United Flight 93. Her name was Deora Bodley and she was the youngest passenger on the plane that day, only 20 years old. I had met Deora's mom a few times. A nice lady. Very intense. I met Deora once when she was probably 16 or 17 at my friend's wedding. She seemed like a very sweet girl. We didn't say more than hello to each other when we were introduced. I had no real connection to her. But I knew how close their family was. I knew how much my friend's parents loved and cherished each of their grandkids. I knew how proud they all were of Deora. The tragedy of 9/11 became their family tragedy.

Today, like every September 11th, I can't help but think about Deora and my friend and her family. I wonder if it helps that their personal loss is felt to some degree by the entire nation. Or does it make it harder that their grief will be forever shared with the world? Is the significance of their personal loss diminished by the enormity of it all? It's more than 9/11, it's their family and it will never be the same. Neither will we.

FINE! NO CATS!

2011-08-27T11:57:00.000-04:00

Jim has been adamant. No more cats. Every time I bring it up he just points to the door sills. Miss Tinkerbell left scratches on nearly every single one of them. Pine is very soft wood that scratches very easily. Although, I guess to be fair I really should call them gouges and not scratches. I never caught her in the act but it was clear she would stretch to full height on her back legs, dig in all of her claws and sharpen away. It looked like a wolverine had been let loose in the house.

After my daughter moved out and took Tinkerbell with her I was with Jim 100%. No more litter boxes. No more cat hair. Then I started to miss having one around. They can be fun, especially the young ones. There's no creature on earth more appreciative of a good scratching and petting than a cat. My desire for a cat only got worse once I started volunteering at the shelter and saw how many homeless cats fill the cages. Easily 4 - 5 times more than the dogs. Poor babies.

I started to test the waters...... all those poor homeless cats. No way. Then I tried the "birthday" thing. Saying I wanted a Siamese kitten for my 49th. No. I promised to keep the soft caps on the claws. No. I begged. No. FINE, NO CATS!

Then, as luck would have it, a friend of my daughter's was looking for an emergency kitten sitter. I offered to take the cute little furball in. I thought that Jim would change his mind about cats once he got some kitten time. They're so much fun.

It worked. Jim loved the kitten and the kitten loved Jim. Jim loved to play with the kitten and we both loved watching the little guy run all over the house playing with anything he could get his paws on. He'd run under the bed and hang from the box spring upside down like Spiderman waiting for someone to walk by so he could grab their toes.

I started picking out names for the new little Siamese kitten I was going to get, Seymour, Biscuit, Ritz. Then the kitten made a fatal mistake. While I was getting ready for work one morning I left the kitten in with a sleeping Jim. The kitten started to do mad dashes across the bed, clawing over top of Jim every time. Zoom, zip..... It was over. One thing I've learned is Jim gets cranky when you mess with his sleep. Jim's resolve to never own another cat returned with a vengeance.

We returned the kitten. I was a little sad to see him go but as I thought about it I realized visiting kittens are one thing but a long term commitment to a cat is another. Too bad you can't just rent a kitten once in awhile.

Substantive Mediocrity

2011-08-04T18:51:00.001-04:00

I learned recently there is a well known and often studied sociological phenomenon called "illusory superiority". It leads humans to think they are better at something than they really are. It's the reason that nearly everybody you ask (86%) will say they are an excellent driver. Even when we know for certain that many of us are not. I mean many of you. I am an excellent driver.

I suspect this phenomenon is also the reason that I've always thought I'd be one of the people to make it through an apocalypse. I thought I had survival skills. Now, I know most people don't rate, or for that matter even consider, their ability to survive an apocalypse. But it's always been one of my favorite entertainment genres. When I read books like The Road, or watch movies like 28 Days Later and TV shows like the Walking Dead I imagine myself in these situations. I have always assessed my skills pretty highly. However, after my latest fishing experience I'm not so sure now. It seems I'm lacking the most basic skill set necessary --- catch food, kill food and clean food. Though I still rate my ability to eat food pretty highly.

Our company summer cookout this year was held at a trout farm. The fishing doesn't really offer challenges to the true fisherman. Throw your hook in, wait 30 -90 seconds, snag a huge rainbow trout. Good for kids with little to no patience or those who just want some fresh trout and aren't necessarily there for the fishing experience. I don't like fish. I rarely cook it. My husband loves fish. I decided to give him a rare treat by catching and cooking some fresh trout. Well, to be honest my plan was always to ask somebody else to catch it for me. The worm business really grosses me out and there's no way I'm grabbing that slimy, squirming fish.

So an awesome co-worker/friend of mine caught two beautiful rainbow trout within a matter of 2 minutes. Plop, into the bucket they went. Fortunately for me this trout farm will kill, clean and prep the fish for you for a fee. All I had to do was carry the bucket up to the cabin for processing. Being very aware of my own limitations I quickly realized that as soon as one of those fish flopped around in the bucket I would scream and drop it. The fish would spill out all onto the ground and there would be no way I could actually touch one to get it back into the bucket. What to do? What to do?

I asked another co-worker/friend to carry it up to the cabin for me. He gladly obliged. We got to the cabin and the fish were dumped into a plastic bin sitting on top of a scale for weighing. The fish were easily 3 - 4 feet off the ground. I was a good 5 - 6 feet away from them. All of a sudden they started to flop around. I screamed. One of the fish jumped out of the bin and onto the floor. I screamed and ran around the other side of the counter. The fish squirmed its way around the counter and was making a bee line straight for me. I screamed and started running towards the door. Finally one of the trout farm employees nonchalantly scooped the fish up. Ha ha - all very funny and amusing.

Fast forward three hours and here I sit with my raw, processed trout. This primal feeling, brought on by the thought of cooking a freshly caught fish for my man disappeared as quickly as it came when I realized the stupid things still had their tails, spines and skin, ewww.... I couldn't bring myself to touch them in order to prep them for the grill. I had to ask for Jim's help in turning them over and putting them on the fish rack.

That's when the whole apocalypse thing hit me. I'll need Jim if I have any hopes of surviving. I couldn't do it on my own. Now I am asking myself all sorts of other survival questions Could I start a fire without a match or lighter? Am I physically fit enough to outrun a zombie? How far could I conceivably hike in one day? How long before my lack of food catching skills and dwindling physical capabilities move me from "help" to "hindrance" in people's minds? A dear friend of mine insisted my managerial abilities will be useful in a survival situation. I'm not so sure the ability to flowchart, mediate and delegate will be quite as marketable as putting food in people's bellies and kicking zombie butt.

It's Like Magic

2011-07-15T18:32:00.003-04:00

I've been troubled by something for quite some time now. It's not my imagination either. I'm not perceived by others to be very friendly. It's true. Family, friends, co-workers and strangers have all told me so. But nothing could be further from the truth. I'm very friendly once you get to know me. I'm generally optimistic, fun loving and generous (a little cynical and sarcastic too, but in a funny way). Apparently, I send out the exact opposite signals. It's not that I don't like people. Well, actually, I really don't like most people but find them tolerable. Spending time with dullards is the price you pay to meet the really interesting, funny and smart people.

There are a few reasons I scare people off. My stature and heritage, very tall and a stern German countenance. It's intimidating. I have a tendency to place both fists on my hips, legs spread far apart, body language for "Yeah? You got something to say?" Another thing working against me is I'm an introvert. I will never be the life of the party. Unless it's a very small party with people I know really well. Oh and my tendency to speak bluntly can put people off too. Once I work up the courage to confront something I don't bother sweetening things up before they come out of my mouth. Time-waster.

I've always just accepted this about myself but a few comments recently had me wondering if I should and could change my image. When comparing me to my sister recently my uncle said "Well, everybody knows your sister has always been the friendly one." Ouch. Then a store clerk asked me recently if I was OK. I answered that I was and asked why she thought I wasn't. "The scowl on your face." was her answer.

Wow. Scowl? Really? I decided I needed to do something about this. As much as it pained me to think of myself walking around looking like a simpleton I vowed to start smiling at people. I'd always heard smiles bring out the best in people. That smiles connect people. When you smile at someone they smile back. It's also one of the universal, innate expressions of emotion. We are born to smile, we don't learn it.

My former method of connecting with strangers was to make some sort of witty comment about whatever circumstances we found ourselves thrust into together. Nine times out of ten I would get a sideways puzzled glance and a cold shoulder. Definitely not working for me.

At first I treated this smiling thing as an experiment. Would walking around with a forced smile plastered onto my face really make a difference? I am happy to report that it IS working. People are nice when you smile at them. Plus, smiling is becoming more natural for me, less forced. I'm not even thinking about it, just doing it.

This morning as the McDonald's lady handed me my coffee she said "It's so nice to see that big smile of yours. Have a wonderful day." That made my smile even wider. Two weeks of smiling and the world is already acknowledging my newfound friendliness.

Me? A Nerd?

2011-07-13T12:47:00.001-04:00

I am reposting this in honor of Embrace Your Geekness Day. I know some will argue that there is a difference between geeks and nerds. I think there's some overlap there. After all, didn't we all sit at the same lunch tables back in high school?

Someone accused me of being a “closet nerd” the other day. I am definitely a nerd.
Below is the irrefutable evidence that I am a Nerd (and proud of it too).

1) I love everything Star Trek
(except the original TV show which is just OK in my opinion.)
2) I have been to Star Trek conventions. Read plural, conventions
3) I have stood in line to get autographs at said Star Trek conventions
(Capt. Janeway and Worf(swoon)among others)
4) I regularly kick ass in Trivial Pursuit
5) I regularly kick ass in Scrabble
6) I offer up interesting tidbits of useless information
(usually to people who could really give a rat’s ass)
7) I love Battlestar Galactica
(the new one not the old one)
8) I play World of Warcraft
9) I love all the Star Wars movies
(even the one with JarJar Binks)
10) I won my Jr. High spelling bee
( I still have the dictionary with my engraved name to prove it)
11) I read about Human Anthropology and genetics for fun
12) I have interrupted a million conversations so I could go look something up on google because I have to know the answer NOW!

Nerds have nothing to be ashamed of. Nerds are curious about the world and how it works. Nerds have imagination. Nerds don’t care what others think.

I don’t think I’m a closet nerd. I would say I am a “flaming nerd”. But after consulting with my family they say "closet" because you wouldn't know I was a nerd unless you talked to me. But isn't that really true about everybody no matter what? You really don't know them until they open their mouths and reveal something about themselves.

Got me again.

2011-06-21T12:36:00.001-04:00

We worked in the yard most of the weekend. Weeding and planting flowers. Jim found a toy rubber lizard that some passersby had dropped in the driveway. He brought it over to me on a shovel, pretending that it was real. I jumped and screamed. He's a practical joker. Loves to take advantage of my universal fear of anything creepy, crawly or scaly.

It didn't take me long to figure out it was fake but it still gave me quite a scare. He left it sitting on one of the downspouts. One of the dogs grabbed it and Jim had to take it away from him before he ate it. I didn't see the lizard again, until about 3 hours later when I was standing at the kitchen sink getting a glass of water. Glance out at the yard and nearly pee my pants when I see a lizard staring back at me. Hardy har har har. He thinks he's so funny. I let him have the satisfaction of telling him how it scared me since he didn't get to witness it first hand .

I'll be damned if that thing didn't scare me again later that day. Quicker recovery time but still gave me a startle. I promised myself I wouldn't let it happen again. Remember the lizard. Remember the lizard. Next day, standing at the sink, I notice the lizard is gone. Then boom - he had moved it to the other side of the window and got me again. I have got to go get that thing and hide it or he's going to be terrorizing me all summer long.

He's not just a father.... He's Dad!

2011-06-19T10:49:00.000-04:00

He didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it. ~Clarence Budington Kelland

As I was growing up, every now and then I'd glance over at my Dad and he'd be looking right back at me. That look was filled with pride and love. It made me feel secure, my Dad was there for me. I also knew that he cherished the job of father.

I learned a lot from my Dad. A hard working man who never complained. He was away from home a lot, a truck driver. Day in and day out. He had to provide for his family and put some money away for retirement. He put us through college, something he takes great pride in considering he dropped out of school at 16 and joined the army.

Not only is my Dad a man of principle, he's a man willing to fight for his principles. He's walked many picket lines over the years and not just his own. He fights the good fight. Yet, he's the least cynical person I know. Always believing that right will win out over might in the end. Honest and loyal to his friends. Generous to those in need. Just a good guy and a good father.

Flyswatter Included

2011-06-12T16:01:00.002-04:00

This is a picture I scanned and sent to somebody interested in taking the camper off our hands. I had never noticed before that Jim was pretending to hit me with a flyswatter just as our daughter snapped the picture. Ah, memories. We haven't camped in years and this thing is taking up valuable garage space. It's a difficult and surprisingly sad decision but it's time to let the camper go. We're closing a chapter in our lives.

I think this is the State Park in Petoskey but it might be Cheboygan. We camped in so many places over the years it's hard to remember which was which. I do remember this campsite clearly though. The lake was right behind our camper. The kids would wander off to explore with their Dad while I lounged on my lounger reading all day. We'd end the day with hot dogs or burgers cooked over the campfire and then gooey, way too sweet s'mores. We'd play games or go for bike rides before turning in. Midnight trips to the bathroom were always a pain but all part of the fun in the end.

We took this camper to Disneyworld. Best campground we ever stayed at even though the lot itself was an asphalt slab a mere twelve feet from the neighboring campsite. Only campground I know where you go watch Disney movies and have Chip & Dale serenade you with camp songs around the fire every night. The wildlife was fun too, spotting armadillos everywhere we went instead of the squirrels and raccoons we were used to.

The camper and Jim's new car got damaged once when Jim stubbornly refused to listen to my advice about a tree he was about to hit as he backed the camper into our spot. It was late at night, because we couldn't ever seem to manage arriving during the day. Trying to be quiet so you don't wake up the whole campground.

Me: Ah, ah, ah...... watch that tree.

Him: I see the tree.

Me: Pretty sure you don't because you're about to hit it.

Him: I SEE EVERYTHING.

Me: (Silently cross arms and watch him back into tree)

That's how he damaged the car. The camper got damaged because he was so mad about the tree that he kept cranking it up even though one of the clasps was still attached. Snap - one of the supports broke and the roof over one of the beds drooped. I called it the Clampett Camper that week.

So the camper's for sale. We will rent cabins from now on if we want to get back to nature. Less hassle and the campfires are just as good. I'm including the dishes and other miscellaneous stuff we picked up over the years to deck her out with. But the memories, well, I'll be keeping those. The new owners will have to get their own.

Things I Hate - Because That's the Kind of Mood I'm In!

2011-06-06T20:13:00.002-04:00

Category: Food & Drink

Beer Nuts - Not sure why but whenever I smell Beer Nuts I throw up a little in my mouth.

Clam Chowder - Ditto above. Sadly, for me, my husband loves clam chowder and orders it often.

Fish - Maybe not hate - more like can't be bothered. Why order fish when you can get a nice juicy steak or some tender chicken. Fish doesn't have enough substance. I do however make an exception for canned tuna.

Sardines/Herrings - Cold fish that still look like fish, complete with the skin, bone impressions, occasionally a tail - and all packed in a nice thick oil or a cold cream sauce. Disgusting.

Tomato Juice (V8) - It just doesn't seem right to drink anything cold and tomatoey. Could be a flashback to my Mom making me sit at the table and eat my tomato soup no matter how long it took me.

Raspberries - I don't like the seeds. They're not chewable and they don't get digested.

Category: Music

Heart - Their music is just harsh and ugly sounding. Barracuda, Crazy For You. Nah, it's just bad

The Police/Sting - It all started with the song Roxanne, I hate that song. He sounds like a cat in heat wailing away. The more I thought about it I realized I don't really like anything they do. Too repetitive and Sting always sounds so whispery. Every Breath You Take - creepy, stalker song. Message in a Bottle- hate the way he says anozher instead of another. The Police suck. Admit it. You've just been afraid to go against popular convention.

Jazz - I just don't get the point. Sounds like disjointed noise to me. I can barely snap my fingers or tap my foot in time when there's a good beat. Jazz just messes me all up.

Category: People

Republicans - Do I really need to explain this one? Today I heard they want to cut school lunches for poor kids. These people truly do represent the worst in us. Greed, spite and callousness. Plus none of them have a sense of humor.

Bad Drivers - They come in many varieties. The left lane hogs driving 10 miles below the speed limit. The guy who zips in front of you if give him even an inch, no blinker. The cell phone talkers who weave in and out of lanes. Although I'm more likely to cut them some slack now that I know they all have brain cancer.

Mean People - It's just as easy to cut somebody some slack as it is to go for the jugular. It's just that one shows you have a shred of human decency and one shows what a cold hearted so and so you are.

That's enough for now. I'm not in the hating mood anymore. I just baked some mini blueberry muffins and am magically in a much better mood. Excuse me while I go grab a couple. I'm so damn easy to please.

PS: I hate it when I burn the muffins.

The Builder

2011-06-04T15:17:00.006-04:00

Jim went off to work on "the basement". Over the last two years he has been helping a former client work to transform his basement into a home theater. It's taken so long because Jim can only get over there every few months or so. They're willing to wait for Jim's here and there work day. They know he does good work.

When I met Jim he was a roofer. Roofing is hard work. I remember watching him sling a bundle of shingles on his shoulder and climb up the ladder, no hands. It made my heart drop to watch him scale a two story house, jump up and then scramble all over the steep roof as though he were still firmly planted on the ground. He had no fear. He did a lot of roofs over the years. To this day when we drive through Ann Arbor he'll point out roofs that he did.

Flat roofs paid more money so he moved into that business. Smelly, dirty work, tar over everything. But we needed the money since our family was growing. Over the years he got the chance to do other work, finish carpentry, mostly remodeling. Homeowners liked him. Not only was he honest, friendly and hard working, he had a knack for helping people develop their vision and then he delivered. His clients always came by word of mouth. When you do good work your name gets out there. That's why the basement people wait for Jim instead of hiring someone full time.

As Jim moved into his 40's the work got harder on his body. He got the chance to change careers into computer support. I was doubtful at first. He had zero experience with computers, turning a computer on was the extent of his skills. But he worked hard, didn't get discouraged and now travels around as a network and computer support freelancer. He is also the family's computer expert.

He still does good work and his computer clients like him. But I know he misses the chance to build things with his hands. When you fix somebody's computer there's really nothing to stand back and admire. So, he grumbled a bit about working on a beautiful summer Saturday but I can tell he was itching to get his hands on a hammer again. Came back for some special tools after about an hour. Seems they need help with the stairs. It's not easy to build stairs he told me. Well, stairs that are straight and true anyway. I'm sure he'll take a couple of trips up and down those stairs when he's done, proud of the work he's done.

Eat, drink and ...... you know the rest.

2011-05-25T18:46:00.000-04:00

I always find myself liking the grasshopper better than the ant in Aesop's Fable. The ant seems like a dull sort of fellow. Aways working and never any time for play.

Sure, sure. I get the message.....the moral......

"What!" cried the ant in surprise, "haven't you stored anything away for the winter? What in the world were you doing all last summer?"

The ant's just stingy. Surely the music and laughter that the grasshopper generated all summer earned him a little bit of the fruits of the ant's labor. Instead of viewing it as one extreme against the other - constant work vs. constant play - I prefer to think of it as two sides of a well balanced coin. What good is being well prepared for everything if there's no joy in it?

Sure the ant has food for the whole winter but what a boring meal it would be to actually sit down with that self righteous insect going on and on about how many grains he has stored away for the winter. Berating me for not having the same foresight and fortitude as him. I bet he hasn't laughed in years. Bah!

I'd much rather pour a glass of wine and sit down with the cheerful grasshopper. I'm sure he'd start off with a happy song on his fiddle and then move onto an entertaining tale. Well worth the price of admission.

Life is too short to suck all the fun out of it at every step.

Moms - You Gotta Love 'em

2011-05-08T11:54:00.001-04:00

Having children makes you no more a parent than having a piano makes you a pianist.
Michael Levine

Happy Mother's Day Mom! I love you. Having children of your own allows you to really understand your mother's love. To know that she would do anything for you. That when you hurt she feels it. Your joy is the best reward your mother could ever receive. She acts selflessly, with no expectation other than ensuring the well being and happiness of her child. No thank-yous are needed but are certainly well deserved.

Thanks for getting me to where I am. For making me the person I am today and just for loving me.

Alice doesn't live here anymore.

2011-05-05T21:28:00.001-04:00

This is Alice. I really grew attached to her. Even started wondering if I could manage a third dog, Unfortunately they had to put her down at the shelter. She had started to lunge at people as they walked by her cage. Not the staff or the dog walkers but potential adopters. It breaks my heart. Alice really won me over with her sweet face and despite what I just wrote about her aggressive behavior, she loved the hugs and attention I gave her whenever I took her out to the exercise yard. I tried to make a point of walking her whenever I went in. But the shelter has to be very careful about dogs they adopt out. As much as we like to think there are scores of Cesar Milans out there ready to rehabilitate "red-zone" dogs. There aren't. Too, too many pit bulls and not nearly enough people to adopt them. What have we done to this breed?

I try so very hard to like people as much as I like animals but stuff like this makes it hard. The way we treat our fellow creatures is inexcusable. Yeah, I know, we treat each other that way too. I guess we just suck all the way around.

My Whining Paid Off

2011-05-02T18:35:00.002-04:00

Yes, spring is here. After all the whining I did two posts ago I thought I would let you all see that things are green and springy here in Michigan. I drove past this willow tree and was struck at how gorgeous it is. Not a bad picture with a phone.

We do endure some of the worst weather here in Michigan. But it's all worth it when you get to live through one of our beautiful summers.

Just My Cup of Tea

2011-04-29T18:29:00.007-04:00

I can't explain why the Royal Wedding brought tears to my eyes this morning. But wait, before I get started with this blog post I have to put in some disclaimers. I know that not ALL women feel the same way about this. Please don't take offense if weddings are not your thing. I'm not casting aspersions on your femininity. Likewise, please don't insinuate that there is something trivial or flighty about those of us who were excited about the wedding. Isn't variety awesome? We can all like different things. Your thing doesn't get better just because you make my thing look stupid. (Yes, I got pshawed by some ladies at work today.)

The easy explanation for the fervor over today's event is that all girls love a fairy tale wedding. Most of us grew up with a mental filiing cabinet full of wedding ideas and plans stored away until needed. Love that, hate that, that could work...... Colors, dresses, table settings, flowers...... I just went through this with my daughter. She definitely knew what she wanted when she saw it. A bride planning her wedding is like a general laying out battle plans. The fact that my daughter is an engineer brought an added level of planning detail to the party, you should see her spreadsheets.

Many women will try to copy as many of the wedding details that their pocketbooks can handle, or settle for a reasonable imitation. Etsy is a website for people to sell their hand-crafted or vintage items. It's a really cool site. Their daily e-mail today was titled "Get the Look" and was filled with items to help brides mirror Kate's look today. At the very least Kate's choices today will set wedding trends that new brides will find hard to escape for years to come. But you can't match the magic of today. I mean Westminster Abbey ?

For me the "dream wedding" is definitely part of it, but it's not the whole answer. It was also about the monarchy. I love history. One of my favorite books of all time was a history of the kings and queens of England. Fascinating stuff, political intrigue, wars, affairs. William is descended from a long line of men and women who were true, bold, conniving, ruthless, brave, stupid, every adjective you can name. Through it all they have endured and the Brits love them. It's sort of contagious. I got goosebumps when William and Kate stepped out of the church and the crowd went crazy.

Another reason this wedding really got to me is how obviously in love the couple was. I don't care what kind of a wedding you're witnessing, that's powerful stuff. I think Diana would be proud that her boy married for love and not out of duty after all she did to raise them as normally as she could.

So as my husband complained about me watching the wedding this morning I reminded him of the snoozefest called the NFL draft that he watched last night. Weddings of those in direct line for the throne of England just don't happen every day. Cut me some slack. I don't think 2 billion people tuned in to see if Detroit finally made a good draft pick. To each his/her own.

How about if I beg?

2011-04-20T21:26:00.003-04:00

Oh how I long to open the windows and let some fresh air into the house. Our climate confused planet is not cooperating though. Winter just won't let go. It's been cold, rainy and we even had snow a few days ago. An inch or so that lasted about four hours until the dreary wet rain washed it away. This is freaking ridiculous already. I remember Easter egg hunts in the snow but they were always in March, not April. I should be wearing flip flops by now..... well, maybe not. Though certainly sweaters should be replacing coats and hats by now. No end in sight. This cold rainy weather is supposed to linger for at least the next five days.

I want to go to the German Park and drink beer from buckets, eat bratwurst and spaetzle. I want to play cards while lederhosen and dirndl clad teenagers clop around under the pavilion as accordions play polkas over the loudspeaker. I want to watch old German ladies dance on the picnic tables as they slosh their beers around to the beat. I want to see some German beer hall fights that I promise to do my best to stay out of.

I want to go to the dog park and find some young kid that is fascinated by Mario's frisbee skills, throwing it over and over again for him. Finally giving up in exhaustion. That dog will keep on going as long as there are frisbees to catch. I want to watch Leo the pekingnese bark boldly at the dogs as they chase balls into the river. Demanding that they stop making such spectacles of themselves. I want to watch Chance sniff around the edges of the fence and pretend he doesn't hear me when I call.

I want to roll the windows down while I'm driving and turn the radio up really loud. Nobody can hear you singing along if the music is loud enough. I can't even hear myself. I want to acquire that deep dark left arm tan from hanging it out the window. I want to smell the rain as it first hits the hot, dry pavement. I want goosebumps form the air conditioner instead of these record breaking cold temperatures.

I want to go golfing. To ride around in the cart with both legs propped up on the dash, stubby little white socks poking out of my golf shoes. Hanging onto the roof for dear life as my husbands zips around the course. I want to get a hot dog at the turn. I want to lose track of how many shots I've made and settle for a reasonable number to put on the score card.

I want to lay in bed at night and hear the crickets chirping. Listen to the planes as they pass overhead. I want to wake to the birds singing in my window. I don't care how early they start. Especially the one that sounds like the Muppets' Swedish Chef....... verdy, verdy, verdy...... I have to add the bork, bork, bork myself. The Swedish bird doesn't sing that part.

It's not too much to ask for. Isn't anybody listening?. I want summer damn it! I want it now. I'll settle for spring, please.

Such is Life

2011-04-13T18:32:00.001-04:00

For various reasons I have been on an emotional roller coaster lately. I have felt anxiety, anger, grief, sorrow and helplessness. Some of the things causing these feelings were within my control so I calmed myself, said what I had to say and did what I had to do. Some of these things were due to my mistakes. I seem to make a mess of things sometimes. Even though I’m a mostly well intentioned person I can often be thoughtless and careless. I apologized, tried to make things better and hopefully learned from my mistakes.

Some of the things going on are totally out of my control, troublesome situations, not serious, but still emotionally draining. I can not change the circumstance. All I can do is change my reaction to it. Adjust, adapt and make the best of it if for me and the others in the same situation. This particular situation has a time limit. There is an end, not in the immediate future but out there on the horizon. This one is going to be sort of an endurance contest, a test of my ability to control my temper over and over again so I don’t make a life changing mistake.

The worst thing going on right now affects me only indirectly. It is directly affecting the people that I love most dearly in the world. There is nothing I can do but offer my love and support and be there if I’m needed. I have no answers to offer about why life is so unfair. Hell, it’s got me wondering the same thing. I have no way to make this better as much as I wish I could. This is weighing heavy on my heart and mind. I think about it constantly. I am coping by trying to be thankful for every day, for my loved ones and to not take anything for granted.

I Think I've Got This Figured Out

2011-04-02T17:57:00.000-04:00

My family is currently addicted to the game Settlers of Catan. We've played three times so far. Tonight will be the fourth time. I haven't won yet and even though I'm a sore loser I still have fun. It's sort of a cross between Risk and Monopoly. There's some strategy involved and some luck.

We had a bit of fun the first night when we realized that everybody was stacking their game pieces (settlements, cities and roads) in ways that corresponded with their professions.

THE ACCOUNTANT

THE TEACHER

THE CIVIL ENGINEER

MY HUSBAND MADE A PENIS (GO FIGURE)

Building is key. You need resources to build. You get resources from rolls that correspond to hexes you have buildings on. Building is key.

You can also trade resources with other players. At least until you get close to winning. At that point nobody wants to help you advance. They all turn on you. Of course I've only witnessed this second hand. I've never experienced it because I've never come even close to winning (pout - have I mentioned I'm a bad loser before?) Trading keeps everyone involved and interested in every turn.

At any point that a 7 is rolled the robber is activated and anybody with over 7 resource cards loses half of them. This is brutal when you roll it on yourself. This keeps the incentive high to build instead of hoard cards. Things move fast.

So, tonight I've cooked up some chili, baked a pineapple angel food cake and purchased some fruity malt beverages. I think tonight is my night. You see, I've read some strategy guides. They're sure to help. Shhhhh....... don't tell anyone. One of the keys to success is to keep a low profile while pointing out to everybody else how awesome someone else is doing.

I'm Just Trying to Make Everyone Happy

2011-03-28T21:57:00.000-04:00

Someone once told me I should have chosen mediation as a profession. I took it as a compliment. I like it when everyone gets along. I often find myself in the middle trying to get two opposing sides to reach a solution that is workable for both parties. This came in handy back when I was settling fights between my children. These days I use this talent most often at work. Although it can come in handy when trying to get my family to all agree on what restaurant we're going to eat at.

I'm not much for psycho-analyzing everything. I usually have no interest in trying to figure out why I am the way I am. But this one I do have figured out. My Dad had a very short temper, (he's mellower these days). He wasn't cruel or abusive. He just went from calm to raging in seconds flat if something set him off. Sometimes small, insignificant things set him off. I coped with this in two ways. I always tried to make everyone laugh because if you're laughing you can't yell and be angry. Stage two if the humor thing wasn't working and things got tense - calm things down by adding perspective, by reasoning - mediate.

The key to successful mediation is to get people to see someone else's perspective. This is challenging when ego or selfishness gets in the way. Stupid people offer their own challenges to the process. Focus being their biggest hurdle. It's all worth the challenge though. There's nothing more satisfying than averting disaster and having everybody walk away feeling as if they got at least part of what they were hoping for. Not necessarily winners but not losers either. Workable.

Being a mediator, a peacemaker, has its down side. The fact that I desire harmony leads people to believe that I won't take a stand. They think I'm a pushover or that I'm afraid of confrontation. It's not true. I won't be backed into a corner or bullied. I won't stand by and watch other people be mistreated. I won't nod and agree that something harmful or stupid or immoral is the right thing to do. Underestimate me at your own peril. :-) That sounds more ominous than I meant it to so I added a smiley face.

You Can't Make Me

2011-03-26T14:42:00.000-04:00

This is one of my favorite pictures. Partly because we are so happy. Though the reason I really like it is it shows the lengths we'll go to for this stupid dog we love so much.

It was during a camping trip up north. I don't remember where, some state park, Cheboygan maybe. We were walking some trails in the park and came to a bridge. It was coated with a sort of sand paper type material meant to prevent slips. Chance clearly didn't like it. He gingerly walked about 10 yards across the bridge. Then one of his nails got caught in a gap between the boards. He yelped.

He absolutely refused to move any further. No amount of pulling, coaxing, yelling or cajoling was going to get Chance to move either forward or backward. We had no choice but to carry him. It was a long bridge. And yes we carried him back across after our hike was over with too.

SUBJECT CHANGE
From now I am going to "like" every health/sickness/medical testing related facebook status that in my opinion goes too far. I'm sure to lose some friends over it but I might as well go out making a statement.

It's OK to mention you are fighting a cold, going for a checkup....... simple updates with not too private information. But some people go too far. I do not need to know you are scheduling an appointment to get your tubes tied. I don't want to read word for word the report you got on your CAT scan. I don't need daily updates on the tests you are having to determine what is causing you to vomit incessantly.

Don't you people have email accounts? Because truly, only your friends are interested. And they're probably faking it.

Soulfood

2011-03-18T20:07:00.002-04:00

If I had to choose between music and books I don't know what I'd do. Fortunately that's one of those stupid hypothetical questions that I'll never have to answer.

I love books. I haven't been without a book since about the age of 8. I've read so many, good and great. I quit wasting my time on mediocre books long ago. The written word can be a beautiful thing. Good stories transport me to different worlds. One well crafted sentence can make me not only appreciate it on its own merit, but also make me look deep into my thoughts, beliefs and ideas. Books have shaped my view of the world.

But music....... well, music can stir me to the core of my being. I close my eyes, feel the beat, let myself get lost in every note. Turn it up....... my life has a soundtrack. So many songs take me back to past times in my life and make me remember how happy I was, or how sad. And they do it over and over again, every time I hear them.

When I hear Roy Orbison & Patsy Cline I can see my parents dancing around the living room in the mid 60's. Jackson 5 and the Monkees take me back to the bubble gum stuff I listened to in the early 70's. Teenage years were spent listening to Bob Seger, Fleetwood Mac and Pink Floyd. The early 80's was a musical awakening when I was exposed to new sounds by my first love. David Bowie, Sly Stone, Motown, Beatles, too many to list. I still have my favorites. Music I listen to over and over again.

I'm not a music fanatic. My memory is too bad to remember every band's name, let alone the songs and what albums they come from. But I know what I love. I know it when I hear it and to this day it can transform me.

Other than a few favorites that have been read over and over again, there are few books that stir such emotion in me. Books feed my brain and quench my thirst for new information. But music feeds my soul. I don't think I could live without it.

Virtuoso Wannabe

2011-03-14T19:30:00.000-04:00

The day I took up the violin was the day I had to finally admit I was truly a geek. Oh, I had sort of known before that but the violin pretty much sealed the deal. The only reason I chose the violin over the flute was because strings started in fifth grade and band in sixth. Patience is not one of my strong suits.

Carrying a violin case in my neighborhood, in front of my "friends" was like painting a big red target on my back. Add in all the books I was always reading, the dorky clothes my mother made me wear and I was doomed. I'll never forget the laughter and the ridicule. Pure humiliation. Stupid, stupid...... what was I thinking.

It took me two years to ditch that violin. My parents had spent so much money on it I had to commit to it for at least a little while. But I wasn't going to carry that damn thing into Jr. High. At the end of sixth grade I made up some lame excuse and told Mr. Osborne, my violin teacher I wouldn't be continuing. I'll never forget the sad look on his face. Oh, to relive that day.

I spent the next nine years trying to be a hard-ass, a tough girl, a burnout. That's how you fit in where I came from. I didn't do a very convincing job. People who knew me really well weren't convinced. Neither was I. And you know what? I wasn't happy either. It's very stressful to try and be somebody your'e not.

I wish I could go back in time and give the 12 year old me some advice. Who gives a flying f**k what anybody thinks? Conformity is easy, different is hard. Hard always pays more rewards than easy in the end. Fitting in? Don't waste your time. It doesn't get you anywhere. I tried hard to teach my kids that lesson. I think I did, didn't I?

Anybody know where I can get some violin lessons?

Blackjack Makes Me Happy

2011-02-25T16:24:00.000-05:00

We are traveling to the Upper Penninsula to see my daughter this weekend. She's an engineer and she works on brakes, ABS and traction control. She has to test her products in winter conditions so two or three times a winter she goes up there for two weeks at a time. Now, you should know, we see our daughter all the time. She lives within 5 miles of us. So why, you ask, are we driving over 350 miles on snowy roads, over one of the world's largest suspension bridges to see her?

I threw the bridge part in because it makes me nervous to drive over the Mackinac Bridge in the best of conditions. Add icy roads with the wind whipping the bridge back and forth ever so slightly and I become a nervous wreck. Back in 1989 a Yugo got blown off that bridge. It's a long drop, plenty of time to be thinking about what's about to happen. ~shiver~ Still debating whether I will allow my husband to drive me over the deadly abyss or whether I will insist on driving. I like to be in control when I think my life is at risk. I'd fly the plane too if I knew how.

Back to our trip Up North. It's a chance to get away. To break the routine. But most of all, a chance to go play some blackjack. We are staying near an Indian casino. I am the family Blackjack expert. After studying the strategy in a few books and some long practice sessions over the years, I know what I'm doing. I've taught my husband, my father, my daughter, sister, brother-in-law, niece. This weekend it's my youngest niece's turn to learn. She's 18.

I can pretty easily teach someone the strategy of the game but what I can't teach is gambler's nerve. You either have it or you don't. My sister and daughter do not. To have gambler's nerve the money has to be invisible to you. You play for the thrill and you don't let the money influence your actions. My oldest niece has it. She makes me proud.

I feel very lucky this weekend. And no, I don't see any contradiction between my last post about not believing in fate and stating here that I do believe in luck. I'm a complicated woman.

I'm No Puppet

2011-02-22T23:31:00.001-05:00

My dear cousin Bonnie and I have an on-going disagreement over the cosmic workings of the universe. She believes in fate/destiny/kismet and I do not. She believes that certain things are meant to happen and that people are sometimes powerless to stop moving down destiny's path.

I don't believe that. I am not Fate's Pawn to be moved around the chessboard of life on a whim. I make of my life what I choose. My decisions, my actions, my rewards, my consequences.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

Joe's Gorilla

2011-02-20T12:45:00.001-05:00

We had to bring the gorilla in on Friday. The high winds were causing him to slam up against the house over and over again. If anything happened to this gorilla I would be very sad. These days the gorilla hangs right outside our patio door. But the first time I saw this gorilla was the day I met my father-in-law, Joe. At that time he was hanging in the corner of Joe's living room. Joe was going for sort of a jungle thing. Not only did he have this awesome gorilla, he also had tropical plants all over and a giant fleece blanket with a picture of a majestic lion hanging on the wall.

That day back in 1984 we knocked on the door, Joe yelled "Well, come in. What are you waiting for?" in a loud and impatient voice. He was 100% Polish and I grew to learn that his entire family speaks that way, including my husband. It sounds as if they are very exasperated to have to explain things to you that should be obvious. But nothing could be further from the truth. They are warm and loving and full of life, a little strange too, but that's all part of their charm.

The minute I saw this gorilla I knew I would like Joe. Joe made no apologies for his life. His ex-wife and kids probably feel that he should have made a few here and there. He was indifferent to his wife to the point where she finally had to leave him. After the divorce he didn't try very hard to see his kids. But he was not a mean man and I'm sure never intended to hurt anyone. I think he would have been a little shocked to think his kids were affected that deeply by him and his actions. He just did what he wanted to do, not really giving much thought to anybody else. He probably shouldn't have gotten married. But you know what they say about hindsight.

My husband spoke with his Dad pretty regularly, at least once a month or so but we didn't see Joe often. He couldn't be bothered with the effort to come see us but was always genuinely happy when we made the effort to go see him. It became harder to visit him once he moved out west, first Vegas and then out to the desert of Arizona in a tiny little town called Dolan Springs.

The last time I saw Joe was in 2006. We took a big driving trip out west, Mt. Rushmore, Yellowstone, Vegas, Grand Canyon. We stopped for an afternoon with Joe. Even though my husband and I saw Joe every few years, my kids hadn't seen him in probably 10 or more years. It was a nice afternoon. Joe's gorilla was sitting on a table out back of his place, surrounded by Joshua trees and cactus.

Joe passed away not long after that. My husband was able to go be with him at the end. That's a good thing but I know he misses his Dad alot. I do too. When Jim went to clean out his Dad's house he guessed I would want the gorilla. He was right.

Is Vintage Older than Antique?

2011-02-16T22:11:00.003-05:00

I visited a craft-slash-antique store yesterday. Although I love the Antiques Roadshow I'm not really an antique shopper. I had another reason for going. I am going to make a necklace holder. My plan is to take a nice big old picture frame, the more ornate the better, and paint it gold. Then where the painting normally goes I'm going to place a piece of velvet lined cork board. Either a bright green or deep purple velvet. Next I'll add some ornate nails all over the board and then hang it on the wall. Boom, necklace holder. My current method is to drape necklaces over the edge of a picture I have hanging in my bathroom. It's not very efficient. I'll post a pic once I'm done.

Anyway, I searched this craft/antique store and found nada, zilch, zip in the way of old frames. All the frames had old timey paintings in them. I also saw a lot of the 3D String Art things everyone did back in the 70's.

I was almost tempted to buy two framed illustration pages from old encyclopedias. One was a page of wild flower pictures and the other was garden flowers. I resisted. My next stop to find a frame is the Salvation Army.

One thing I noticed today is that many of the items I grew up with are now considered antiques. Not only is the kitschy crap from my childhood fetching a pretty hefty price but so are ordinary mundane objects like corning ware. Pretty ironic when you consider that not 15 years ago we were offloading this crap at garage sales at prices ranging from 5 cents to 1 dollar. Now that Mork & Mindy lunchbox has a sticker price of $29.95 and that's with no thermos and rusted edges all around. Imagine if it were in mint condition.

At first I asked myself why we didn't save all this shit? We could be rich. Then I remembered that we had to make room for all the new shit. Here's a sampling of some of the items from my childhood that now populate the antique store shelves.

There's still hope for my box of beanie babies 20 or 30 years down the road.

Once Bitten

2011-02-13T11:33:00.000-05:00

I've decided I will not be attending the 2012 Family Reunion in Germany, if there is one. There are a number of reasons.

The Germans don't sound all that enthused to be planning it. Every time one of them talks about it they make it sound like they'll do it if they have to but suggest that we end on a good note since the 2007 was so awesome it will be hard to beat. It takes a lot of work to plan these reunions. I don't want to force somebody to do it.

I've been to Germany four times in my life (five if you count the time I was 2). It's understandable since I have so much family there but I want to see new places. I want to go to Ireland and Scotland. My husband really wants to see Italy. Even though I'm not a beach person I would like to visit Hawaii. How are we ever going to experience these awesome places if every "big" trip takes us back to Germany.

The biggest reason I don't want to go to the reunion is that several of the relatives there have made it quite clear they don't really like me. One of them to the point of being downright rude and mean about it. Granted, he's only a relative by marriage but you know what, I don't have to subject myself to it and I certainly don't have to do it when it's going to cost me thousands of dollars to do so.

Don't get me wrong. I don't have to be liked by everybody. I know I'm not everybody's cup of tea. I can be loud and obnoxious, socially awkward, a know-it-all....... somebody please stop me.... because I could go on and on. But I do expect the common decency of politeness, especially in a family setting. I don't expect that I'll get it in Germany. I actually expect it to be pretty bad since he'll have an audience. He's a mean and petty little man and rather than bring it to the point of confrontation that it is inevitably moving towards, I would rather just avoid the situation altogether.

I'll spend my time with the people I enjoy being around and who enjoy my company, or at least do a passable job of pretending they do.

God, my blog is so serious these days. I should just get a therapist.

You're such a little cutey!

2011-02-03T19:23:00.000-05:00

I'm an HR professional. I am not an engineer. I have however worked with engineers for 23 years. By working with engineers I mean, hiring them, firing them, laying them off, counseling them, promoting them, listening to them bitch and accepting their resignations. Today was filled with the fun part of my job. Hiring them.

I spent the day talking to and shaking hands with about 50 young engineering students/grads at a recruiting fair. Some of them are such cute little things I just wanted to pinch their cheeks. Today's fair was quite different from previous fairs. Back in the day the job market was exploding and they all graduated with multiple offers. Today job offers are scarce, making the engineers eager to make a good impression. They're all so nervous that their palms sweat and they nervously twitch as they talk to you. (Hand sanitizer is a must at these events.)

It's satisfying to be the one to offer them their first real job. The salary we offer is usually the most they've ever made in their lives. They are so happy and grateful. Everything changes after about five years. It's like clockwork. All the training we've patiently bestowed on them leads them to believe we couldn't possibly run the company without them. They end up in my office demanding promotions and pay hikes.

I especially love when they print out some totally uncontrolled salary survey from online to prove that we are only paying them 70% of their market value. As if I use a Ouija board to determine what to pay them. They don't realize how insulting they are being. I work hard to make our pay as competitive as it can be. I track the market. I make sure we don't underpay anybody.

My company would go bankrupt if I gave every five year engineer what they think they are worth. Don't get me wrong. They ARE valuable to the company. But if I let a five year engineer be indispensable I wouldn't be doing my job as an HR person. The trick becomes making them feel appreciated without caving in to their every demand.

Engineers are a unique group of people. A bunch of nerds with a little bit of arrogant thrown in. Being a nerd myself I really do like them. I also know that our company couldn't be successful without them. That's why revel in days like today. Finding our future superstars. I try not to think about the unscheduled appointment in my office, five years from now where they set me straight on how much they are worth.

He's a Keeper

2011-01-31T20:37:00.004-05:00

I met my husband a little over 27 years ago. I had recently been through a pretty tough break up. The kind where your heart tells you to stay but your head tells you it's time to go.   I was convinced that I wouldn't meet anybody ever again. The few guys I did talk to were all losers, just guys on the make, no heart, no soul.

I resigned myself to spinsterhood at the age of 20. At that age the status quo feels like a whirlpool sucking you down further and further.   You haven't learned yet that your life can sometimes veer onto an entirely new path in a heartbeat.

I went with my Mother to a bible meeting.....for the benefit of those that know me..... that's right....... I said bible meeting. I kind of figured I had nothing to lose. As I walked through the door I immediately noticed the guy sitting on the couch playing a game of chess with somebody. It's no surprise that I can't remember who he was playing chess with. My husband had my undivided attention for the rest of the night.   He had reddish-brown, moppy, hair with a moustache and full beard. He was a good looking guy. I could tell he noticed me.

At that time I was still overcoming a nearly crippling lack of self-confidence. My strategy back then was just to plow on through moments of self doubt and timidity, act like I was confident. So I sat down on the couch right next to him and said "Hi, I'm Christine". He looked at me and smiled a smile that twinkled into his green eyes too. "Hi, I'm Jim." And then we talked. I flirted shamelessly .... touch the hair, giggle, you know the drill.

This guy was different. He was funny and thoughtful and sensitive. Plus he seemed sincerely interested in me as a person. I could tell I wasn't just another conquest. The evening ended and I had high hopes that he'd call me. One week went by, then another. Hope waned. Finally, he called and asked if I wanted to go see his guitar teacher perform at a local bar and then a movie. I accepted. He called me back a few days later and with a little bit of shame said that his car was broken down. I thought he was going to cancel. Instead he asked if I would mind driving. I said not at all.

We went to Ashley's in Ann Arbor. It's still there. Then we went to see Return of the Jedi at the dollar show. It was a great evening. We talked and talked. I invited him to my 21st birthday party at my parents house the following week. He said he would see me then. The day of the party I opened the door and saw him standing there with flowers in hand. He had shaved his beard, trimmed his moustache and cut his hair. This guy was definitely a keeper.

We were engaged about three months later and then married another four months after that. Crazy, I know. Do I feel lucky that it's lasted this long? No, luck had nothing to do with it. We've earned these years together, trust me.

Sometimes the routine of life takes over. Being with someone for 27 years breeds a comfortable familiarity. Like a favorite pair of pajamas. Once in awhile it's good to remember back to the time he made my heart race every time I laid eyes on him. Not something to be taken for granted because it's a good thing I've got going here.

If You Say So

2011-01-25T19:40:00.003-05:00

I have a really bad memory. Anybody who knows me would back me up on this one. Sometimes I call myself absent minded but that's only because it makes me feel like I have a good excuse to forget things.   Like there's so much going on in my head I can't cram it all in there. I'm not selective either. I'll forget people, events, places, appointments, facts..... whole episodes of my life. I wonder sometimes if other people experience memories the same way I do.

Some memories are so crystal clear. I could close my eyes and be taken back to that moment in time. Remembering the sights, exactly what was said, someone's tone of voice or a facial expression. Most surprising of all, these memories bring back the feelings, both good and bad.   Life changing moments like the first time I held both of my children in my arms. Or the first time I laid eyes on my husband. The time I sat holding my uncle's hand as he lay dying.

Sometimes I wonder if some of my memories are only there because someone captured a picture of that moment. I clearly remember cutting my sister's bangs when she was five and and I was nine. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't get them even. I kept cutting them shorter and shorter until my mother finally intervened. My shortlived career as a pre-teen hair stylist was memorialized in her school picture the next day.

I remember more details than just the haircut.  I sat her in a chair in the backyard while I chopped at her bangs with the dull kitchen scissors. I put a towel around her shoulders to catch the hair. I even remember it was a blue towel with flowers on it that my mother got out of a box of laundry detergent.   Is it the picture that solidifed those memories? Every time we pull out my sister's kindergarten picture the story is retold. How could I ever forget it? Or was it my mother's anger that cemented this memory in my brain? Why this memory above so many other forgotten moments?

Sometimes a memory is nothing more than a flash. I have a picture in my head of myself up on the roof of my neighbors garage with all the neighbor kids trying to coax me to come down. A big tree is just within my reach but the two inch gap looms like the Grand Canyon in front of me. I had to have been three based on where we were living at the time. I don't remember getting up on the roof and I'm not sure how I got down either. I remember the terror I felt though.

Most troubling of all is when I can't remember something that somebody else remembers so clearly. A friend saying "Hey remember the time we......." and I have no flipping clue what they are talking about. Could have been something from high school or it could have happened only a few years back.  I'm also ashamed to admit that a good 20% of my high school facebook friends are people I only think I know. I really don't remember them. They have the same friends I do. The name seems familiar. But if my life depended on it I couldn't recount one single conversation I had ever had with them.

It sometimes seems as if I'm racing through my life leaving behind key pieces of it.    It's very unsettling.

A Handful

2011-01-18T19:45:00.002-05:00

I wrote before about volunteering at the local animal shelter. I'm glad to report I graduated to dog walking and now spend 2-4 hours per week walking a few of the many homeless dogs the shelter takes in every day. I really enjoy it. I get some exercise and feel like I'm doing something worthwhile in the meantime. The big payoff though is getting the chance to meet and play with new dogs every week. Most of them are not there long enough to get too attached to them. That's a good thing. It means they found new homes. But there are a few dogs that seem to have a hard time finding new homes. There are even a few that have been there since I started back in October. Usually these long-timers are either senior dogs or, more often, they're pit bulls.

I like to think I have a natural ability to discipline and train dogs. It really is just a matter of letting them know who's boss with gentle firmness. I'm mystified by the cases I see on the Dog Whisperer. The way some people let their dogs push them around. I'm not afraid of handling the big dogs at the shelter. I find that most of them can sense a dog person when they meet one and I'm definitely a dog person. The pits though are a little intimidating.

I've never really spent much time with pit bulls until now. I'd heard both sides of the controversy over this breed. The side that says they get a bad rap and that they are no more vicious than any other breed. The other side insisting that these dogs are inherently dangerous. I think the truth lies somewhere in the middle, as it so often does.

If you've walked these dogs you know how powerful they are. Pure muscle with a little bit of stubbornness and determination thrown in. If you've seen them play you know how they love to play tug of war with you. It's then that the thought runs through your mind how you would be at this dog's mercy if he really wanted that tug toy. Rationally I know that's true of other breeds too but I've never seen one shake a toy the way the pits do. It's a little like they're practicing the death grip.

To make matters worse these breeds are often most attractive to people who really shouldn't be owning dogs. They don't know how to train them, care for them or discipline them properly. They want pits because they're tough and aggressive. They think somehow this makes them tough by virtue of ownership. Once these dogs become too much to handle they end up in shelters. Along with all the puppies born along the way because so many of them aren't fixed.

Early on I started walking a dog named Bluto. He's a white pit bull with a big brown spot over his face. The first time I walked Bluto he had gotten into the bad habit of jumping on you to demand a treat. I tried to handle this the way I do with my dogs, firmly say no and turn my back to him. He ended up jumping up and biting my arm, drawing blood. It wasn't serious but it surprised me and made me a little scared.

I read the notes the other walkers had written on him. "Bluto jumps up a lot but settles right down once you tell him to sit and give him a treat." No wonder, the dog had been trained to treat us walkers like treat vending machines. The shelter dog trainer worked with him using a squirt bottle and he no longer jumps up on people. He is a real sweetheart and will snuggle up to you and give you kisses when you stop at the bench on the walking trail. But I can't ever forget how he bit me. It's good that the shelter works so hard to match dogs to the proper environment. He's a powerful, strong willed dog and needs an owner with some experience.

The only down side to my volunteer experience continues to be some of my fellow volunteers. Some are introverts, like me, just there to walk the dogs. Many of them though have something to prove about either their knowledge of dogs or how dedicated they are to the shelter. They show it by commenting as you pass by with every dog you walk. "Oh, Sheba, she sure does love to fetch balls." "That Whiskers sure was a handful yesterday." They drive me nuts. I'm there because I like dogs, and truth be told, more than a lot of the people I know. So, I smile and move on. I just keep coming back for the dogs.

Precious indeed.

2010-12-30T18:17:00.001-05:00

Yesterday my sister and I had a plan. We were going to spend a half day at each other's house helping with a task the other was dreading. For her it was cleaning her basement out. She is a self-proclaimed hoarder in training. Early intervention was in order. My task was cleaning out and organizing all my kitchen cupboards. We promised to get an early start. I started for her house at about 8:30 in the morning. Adding a quick stop at Starbucks would put me at her house around 9am.

As I was driving my mind began to wander, as it often does. I started out thinking about a very good internet friend of mine and how her husband had a very scary health situation this Christmas. He is on the mend and she was so thankful to be having him home from the hospital soon. This lead me to thinking about my Mom and how she has come so close to dying a few times. Then I began to wonder if coming close to death fosters a new appreciation for life and if it so, how long does it last?

Life is short and at any moment someone we love can be taken from us. As I passed under the train viaduct I thought, why this bridge could collapse right now and I'd be dead. As the oncoming traffic hurled towards me I thought 'all it would take is one slip of the steering wheel and poof, you're gone. Would my loved ones know how much they mean to me? I resolved to appreciate the day, my life and my loved ones.

Coffee in hand, I drove down Wayne Rd., one block past Frank's Furniture Store and a right on Ash St., parked my car and headed into my sister's house. She greeted me at the door. Then all of a sudden the house shook, the lights went out and we heard a tremendous boom. We looked at each other in panic and asked each other back and forth a few times... "What the hell was that?" Logic dictated it wasn't something in her house that had blown up. After all, we were standing there unharmed. She checked the basement anyway.

At a loss as to what had just happened we went to the front door to look outside and saw all the neighbors doing the same. One of them said that a building had exploded on Wayne Road. In a daze, we walked to Wayne Road, along with everybody else in the neighborhood. What we saw was unbelievable. The entire store was flattened by a natural gas explosion. Glass and debris strewn all over the road and sidewalks as the force of the blast had blown out the windows of all the businesses up and down the street.

I kept saying to people, strangers..... Oh my God, I JUST drove by that store not three minutes before it happened. Though once I learned that three people had been in the building when it exploded I tried to stop saying it. It seemed trivial in comparison. The owner of the store was rescued shortly after the explosion but was badly burned. We learned later that night that the other two employees had died in the explosion.

Those poor people got up yesterday morning and drove to work just like every other workday. I feel so badly for their families and friends. I hope that they find comfort from each other. Life is so very precious.

Unacceptable

2010-12-15T19:01:00.002-05:00

For the last four days we have been dealing with the aftermath of a winter storm. Not a blizzard. Just your regular, run of the mill, snow storm. Unfortunately this storm was followed up by freezing temperatures. This caused the roads to freeze over which makes for slow and dangerous commutes.

When 20 miles separate you from your place of employment there are an infinite number of routes you can take. Each of the last three days I have tried a different way to work. I have not found "the" best way to avoid treacherous roads and the idiots that populate them. Each route has sweet spots but none of these are connected. Just when I think I'm getting somewhere I run into someone creeping at tortoise speed. They act as if their tires are also made of ice. The only thing worse is the idiot who passes you on a two lane road with oncoming traffic.

Strangely though, four days after the storm hit and the freeway ramps and side streets are still snow and ice covered. I was patient about all the snow and ice the first and second days. Curious the third day but willing to accept the explanation of "Salt doesn't work in freezing temperatures". Today, I'm just mad. I'm also entertaining conspiracy theories in which evil government bureacrats horde and sell our road salt to Minnesota for profit, leaving us Michiganders to fend for ourselves on our deathtrap subarban side streets.

Let's examine the facts. I have not seen any salt trucks on the side streets I've been driving every day. I mean, none. I thought they were working on the freeways so I decided to try M14 on the way home today. The freeways are dry and clear, which begs two questions. Why is salt working on the freeways in this freezing weather? Why aren't they moving on to the side streets if the freeways are clear?

If they don't get this cleared up by end of day tomorrow I may have to complain to somebody. Probably the same people I complain to every year about the potholes that never get fixed.

Is this run noticeable?

2010-11-12T18:30:00.003-05:00

Planned obsolescence is the practice of designing products to break down at a predictable rate in order to force consumers to replace them. Like pantyhose. Odds are slim that you'll ever wear a pair of pantyhose more than three times without getting a run in them. You have a better chance of getting struck by lightning, hitting the lottery or running across a one-legged accordian player doing a polka. The average pair of pantyhose costs about $6. You can pay more, and I have, but my empirical research shows no correlation between cost and durability. At $6 a pair I am dropping about $240 a year. My annual cost would skyrocket if I were the type of woman that frets over her appearance. I don't mind wearing a pair with a run in them if it's not terribly obvious. A hole in the toe though is unbearable. Nothing makes me madder than getting a hole in the toe on the first day you wear a new pair. Into the trash they go.

I refuse to believe that science is incapable of inventing a fabric that is both sheer and tough. This consistent product failure has to be intentional. The hosiery industry has no motivation to increase the useful life of their product. We just keep buying them. Why can't they follow the lightbulb's lead? Some of the bulbs they make these days last for years and consumers gladly pay more for them to reduce bulb changing. I'd pay a pretty penny for a pair of hose I could wear long enough to have to wash them one or two times.

I once suspected that blow dryers were also designed to fail. It always seemed they lasted at most a year or two before burning out. My opinion changed when I bought my latest blow dryer. It's been going strong for 10 years. Well not exactly strong. Currently the folding handle won't lock in position anymore, making the dryer droop unless you prop it as you are using it. But it's workable. The innovation in hair dryer technology that made this possible was the addition of a hatch over the air intake part of the dryer. I can clean it out regularly which keeps the dryer from overheating. I'm shooting for 20 years of usage of my current dryer. It's a trooper.

The most durable car I've ever seen was a work bucket Dodge my Dad drove back in the 80's. It was an old, ugly, aqua green monstrosity with fins, chrome and a push button transmission. That thing was solid as a rock. What finally did her in was rusted door hinges. Hell, if my Dad had been willing to ride around Jeep-style I bet that thing would still be driveable. The worst car I've ever had was a Mercury Monarch my Dad bought for my sister and me. It was only 4 or 5 years old I think. But the body was literally rusting off the frame. Sis and I were mortified to have to drive it in front of our friends. But my Dad, bargain hunter that he is, couldn't see spending more to spare us the humility of driving the Rust Bucket. Stupid car only had AM radio too. I suspect this was also planned obsolescence. You can only listen to country and news talk radio for so long.

Crazy Train

2010-11-02T12:54:00.005-04:00

I was in DC this past weekend attending the Rally to Restore Sanity. The media is struggling to explain what happened there. Some of them are dismissing it as "entertainment", just comedy and music with no serious message. Others are calling it a bold move from the liberal left. This need to sum everything up into an easy to understand, usually sensational, message is just more evidence of the problem.

Some things are beyond categorization and summation. Each rallyer had their own reason for being there, their own interpretation of the "message", their own feelings about the day. In a group of over 200,000 people you're going to find differing opinions. I think that was the point.

The minute the rally was announced I knew I was going. Every day it's becoming increasingly difficult to recognize this country. The hate and fear spewing from our TV's would lead you to believe that sensationalism is the only thing that matters anymore. Attending the rally felt like something positive I could do -add one more person to the throng I hoped would show up. My message was "You people are crazy." Who are "you people"? I'm talking about the loud mouthed, obnoxious media celebs that offer up their hate and bias and call it news. What have they created in the pursuit of ratings (profit)? People who actually think that nut jobs like Sarah Palin, Christine O'Donnell, Paul Rand, Meg Whitman, and Sharon Angle are viable candidates for anything except a ride on Ozzy's Crazy Train.

So, I went to the rally, along with a lot of other people. In the middle of that massive crowd in our nation's capital, it felt good to be an American with a constitutional right to peaceably assemble, for whatever I wanted to assemble for. My voice counts, my opinion matters and my beliefs don't make me less American. No matter what Fox News says.

I believe that those blessed with more financial resources should pay more taxes. I believe that two people should have the right to be married, regardless of their genders. I believe that hard working illegal aliens should have a path to US citizenship. I believe that the way to stop illegal immigration is to punish those who create the jobs that attract illegals to this country and then pay them sub poverty wages to do back breaking work. I believe that health care reform didn't go far enough. As long as insurance companies run the show profit will continue to be the driving factor in health care. I believe in a single payer system... if it's an option it's not really single is it? I believe that business, left to its own, unregulated devices will do anything to add to the bottom line, no matter the cost to human suffering.

It's so laughable when politicians spout off about "What the American people want" is blah blah blah. As if we are one person. I think being an American is a little like being married. You don't agree with everything your fellow Americans (spouse) want to do, and you surely disagree with some of their beliefs, but you work through it - compromise, acceptance, tolerance and respect. There might be some yelling along the way but in the end you have to reach a workable solution that maintains the peace. What good is winning the battle if your marriage is destroyed in the process?

One little word.

2010-11-01T13:39:00.001-04:00

I quickly glanced over my Google iPage and read that it's "Cook Your Pet Day". Say what? I opened the article and found that I'd skipped over the word "for". Today is "Cook FOR Your Pet Day".

An apple? You gotta be kidding me.

2010-10-25T19:34:00.000-04:00

Halloween is my favorite holiday. I think it's because it's the day before my birthday. It used to seem as though all the Halloween festivities were in my honor. Almost like I was sharing my birthday with all the other kids in the world. "Here have some candy, but tomorrow the presents are all mine." My mother would sew me awesome costumes, a pilgrim or a princess, and I'd join the throngs of neighborhood kids as we went "begging" from door to door. When I came home my Dad didn't bother with the pretext of "inspecting" my candy. He just collected his "Dad Candy Tax", Milk Duds, Butterfinger and Better Made Chips. The next day I'd insist on wearing my costume to my birthday party. All very self centered of me, but in my defense, don't most kids think the world revolves around them? Then we wake up to the cold, hard truth that not only isn't it always about us, its' rarely about us.

Halloween these days is lame. We rarely get any kids showing up on Halloween anymore. Back when I was trick or treating there were so many kids we had to wait in line sometimes to get to the door. You never see that anymore. Trick or treating has been replaced by lame "parties" at community centers or schools. As a kid I hated those things. You only got about one tenth the amount of candy you could get out there on the streets. At a "Halloween Party" you were lucky to get a handful of tootsie rolls, some smarties, a few suckers and some lame-ass stickers. Which led me to believe that adults were NEVER kids, if they had been they would have known better. Strategic mapping of the neighborhood and you could fill up a pillowcase in no time. Pillowcases were much better than plastic pumpkins that get filled up with the first bag of chips. It was all about maximum candy haul. Trick or treat until there were no more lights on anywhere.

Is it our increased paranoia about the safety of our kids that has killed trick or treating? Are there fewer kids? We seem to have turned Halloween into a Holiday for adults instead of kids, with elaborate decorations and adult parties. This year I won't be passing out candy. I am headed to DC for Jon Stewart's Rally to Restore Sanity. By the time I get back at 8pm on Halloween it will all be over. Normally I would feel guilty about not turning on the light and passing out some Snicker's bars, but I don't think our light will be missed. So sad. I still might wear a costume on my birthday though.

Not This Again!

2010-10-20T21:26:00.000-04:00

Do you know how to tell that you are in the grip of some serious PMS?

Scowl and furrowed brow? - Suspected PMS

Being on the verge of tears with little to no provocation? - Maybe PMS

The urge to rip someone's head off their shoulders because they made some innocent comment or asked a simple question? Ding, ding, ding.

For the last 10 years I have been under the mistaken impression that I was done with PMS. But apparently PMS' severity operates on a reverse bell curve. PMS hit me hard in my late teens and 20's. I learned to recognize it and then to apologize in advance to my husband for anything I did while in its grasp. Gradually it tapered off, tricking me into thinking that I was done being controlled by my hormones. But it's back, with a vengeance.

Pre-menopause PMS is a bitch..... I mean I'm a bitch..... I mean we're both bitches.

Tell me that you love me!

2010-10-06T19:36:00.002-04:00

One of my co-workers asked me if I knew the five languages of love. At first I thought she was asking if I knew the romance languages.... French, Italian, Spanish, etc. No, she explained, the five languages of love are the primary ways in which we express our affection for others and also the ways we feel loved. They are:

Acts of Service - expressing love through helping.
Physical Touch - expressing love through touch.
Gifts - expressing love through thoughtful gifts.
Words of Affirmation - expressing love through verbal approval.
Quality Time - expressing love through spending time with someone.

Glancing at the list I immediately ruled out "Physical Touch" as my language of love. I am not really a touchy feely sort of person. Huggers make me nervous. They move in so confidently. They seem to instinctually know the proper firmness and length of the hug to be administered. So sure of where they will be placing their hands as they hug you. Their self assured hugs make me feel inept as I struggle to develop my how-to plan for executing the hug. Can't we just smile and say hi?

I do make some exceptions. My husband. My parents. My kids. Hugging them feels natural. I also hug family members for whom I know it's important, like my Aunt Julie. She's a hugger. I can adapt. I hug my sister when we are having a sisterly moment but not normally. She's a lot like me when it comes to hugs.

I make it a point to hug my German relatives in genetic defiance to the standoffish personality I inherited from them. As if I'm proving that the Irish and Scottish blood mixed into my gene pool makes me less uptight than them. You should see my Uncle Dieter when I hug him. For just a split second he loses that cool composure and I can see panic in his eyes.

I answered the questions below to help figure out what my primary language:

How did you know your parents loved you, what did they do that made you know you were loved?
When you think about experiences that have really hurt or cut you to the core, what were they?
What do you do when you want to show someone you love them?

At first I thought my language of love was Gifts. I love to take the time and effort to find the right gift for someone. It's one of the reasons I love Christmas. Other times of year I'm always picking up little things for somebody just because I think they will like them. But it was the last two questions above that really got to the heart of the matter of my love language.

My father's approval was so important to me as a kid. Mostly because it was hard to get. Not complaining, just stating facts. When my father praised me it was greatest feeling in the world. Couple that with my deepest hurts in life coming from words of rejection and I have to conclude that Words of Affirmation are important to me. Makes perfect sense. I love words.... reading words, writing words, hearing them spoken by eloquent speakers. Hearing "I love you" is the sweetest sound in the world.

So, as interesting as this is, how can I make it useful in my life? Run around telling everyone to "Tell me you love me." Seems sort of egocentric. Maybe the point is to figure out the love language of the important people in my life so I can express my love for them in the language that's most important to them.

Meine Lieblings!

Does this Bunad make me look fat?

2010-09-29T19:49:00.009-04:00

Alternate Title: Which way to the US Consulate?

Our European vacation began with three flights. Detroit --> New York --> Reykjavik --> Berlin. We ended this unbelievably long day by knocking back a few Berliner Pilsners at my Uncle Dieter’s dining room table. He lives in Dabendorf Germany, just south of Berlin.

Before you know it the clock says its 11 pm. Off to bed so we could get up early the next morning to catch yet another flight at 10 am.. This time to Oslo, Norway.

Observation --> German pillows are awesome, especially after 24 hours of flying and a few German beers.

First stop in Norway was the Oslo Hard Rock Café to get a shot glass for my collection.

My Dad looked like he was going to complain about the 20 mile detour but I wasn’t going to be denied. I doubt I will ever go to Norway again so this was my one chance. We pulled up to the HRC and I darted in to get the glass while they waited in the car.

Wish we would have had more time there. It looks like a beautiful city. This is the National Theatre, right next to HRC.

Observation --> the older my parents get the crankier they get when they travel.

Now for the six hour drive from the east coast of Norway to the west coast. Please don't ask me why we didn't fly into Bergen instead of Oslo. My husband asked me that question so many times. I don't have an answer. And being the "Lemonade out of Lemons" kind of girl that I am I decided to make the best of it by enjoying the scenery.

Observation --> When your Dad disagrees about getting the minivan instead of the sedan, insist on the minivan.

Norway has three distinct regions, each characterized by unique landscapes, all of them beautiful. The eastern side of the country gently rises in elevation as you drive through beautiful green forests filled with pine trees.

In the middle of the country the road begins to climb more steeply and the terrain begins to look like arctic tundra. Few trees, scrubby brush and flowers and shallow streams and lakes. This area was pretty barren except for some grass covered camping huts and three vacation lodges. It seems as though this area is a popular spot for camping.

We stopped at one of the lodges to get some coffee and stretch our legs a little bit. Snapped a few pics. Then back on the road.

The western side of Norway is where all the fjords are. A fjord is formed when a glacier takes a slow leisurely stroll through rock. Once the glacier is gone the fjord is filled with a mix of water running down from the mountains and sea water.

The western side of Norway is also where the roads narrow considerably. Nothing like barreling down a steep mountain road and then all of a sudden a semi is heading your way. Close your eyes (not really), grip the wheel (really) and pray (to any and all Gods that may be listening). They have lots of tunnels too. Some of them wind around like a corkscrew through the middle of the mountain.

The later it got the more worried we were about getting to the hotel in time for dinner. There are no fast food places here and things clearly were going to close early. Our best shot at a meal was getting to the hotel. Didnt' make it in time though. We ran into some of the people my mother knew back in 1955. They insisted we come in for coffee and traditional Norwegian waffles. By the time we got to the hotel it was 11:00. We had peanuts and crackers for dinner.

As we were unloading the luggage from the car I couldn't find my purse. I searched under the seats, inside luggage and backpacks. It was nowhere to be found. That's when it dawned on me...... I had left it at the lodge back in the Norwegian tundra. I panicked. My money, my credit cards..... OMG my passport. The second day of my vacation and I was destined to spend the rest of it at the US consulate in Oslo trying to get a new passport to get home.

I never leave my purse anywhere. The only explanation I have is that during the plane trip(s) from hell I had been carrying it in my backpack so had gotten out of the habit of insinctively reaching for it.

I rushed into the hotel and frantically told the hotel clerk (Thor, seriously, his name was Thor) my story. He asked if I remembered the name of the place. "No.... it had some weird looking vowel in the name and I remember it was 1000 meters above sea level." That's when I remembered the pictures. I had a picture of the place. I showed him my camera. "I know the place. Let me call them."

Sure enough, they had my purse. Mentally, I resolved to be thankful and not to be bitter about the six hour round trip we had to make in order to retrieve it. Then Thor says, "They'll send it on the local bus tomorrow morning. You can pick it up from the bus driver right out front there." Promptly at 2:00 pm the next day I got my purse with "all" of my belongings.

Next post I'll tell you about my Mother's reunion with all her old friends.

Observation --> Norwegians are very honest and hospitable.

Oh.... what's a bunad you ask? It's the traditional clothing of Norway. I was pretty sure I'd be sporting one after being forced to become a Norwegian because I wasn't allowed to enter the US without my passport.

I take all the credit. Good genes.

2010-09-23T12:33:00.000-04:00

That's my daughter. At the risk of sounding like a bragging mother I just have to say, you couldn't get much more proud of a daughter than I am of her. This is her new blog ------> Read it. It's good.

It's Not a Contest People!

2010-09-20T19:57:00.001-04:00

On any given Sunday you are likely to find me sitting in my pajamas playing computer games all day. It's not very constructive. Unless you count the following: 1) leveling yet another WOW character to 80 or 2) beating some on-line poker punk's straight with my flush. My daughter is grown and out of the house. My son is still at home but, like a houseplant, requires very little of our attention. So, I find myself with too much free time on the weekends.

Sitting around on my ass all day wasn't good for my health or my mind. I needed to break myself of this habit. I decided to sign up as a volunteer at our local animal shelter. Last weekend was my second Sunday of volunteering. It's been very satisfying so far. But I'm increasingly bugged by what I can only describe as a caste system.

I should have known this was a whole different world at my orientation. The volunteer coordinator is a very nice lady and she did a great job explaining the program. She brought a stray puppy with her. A cute little pit bull pup that was allowed to run around the room and interact with the 40 or so would-be volunteers. It's hard to resist a puppy, I know. But some of these people were hell bent on getting the puppy to pay attention to them, to the point of interrupting the presentation. It was as if they were trying to prove how good they were with animals. Calm down there Puppy Whisperer - you don't have anything to prove - it's sort of a given that everybody in the room loves animals.

The volunteer jobs are classified into four categories moving up from Level One through Level Four jobs. The Level One jobs are labor intensive with no animal contact. You earn the right to move up a Level by putting in your time at the lower Levels. I understand why they do this. Makes perfect sense to gauge someone's level of commitment before you give them more responsibility. Especially when they will be coming in contact with animals who potentially have trust issues. It's a necessary weeding out process. Who's here to help and who's here because they want to pet puppies and kittens all day? What I wasn't expecting was this sense of superiority that some of the higher level volunteers exhibit towards the lower level volunteers.

As a Level One volunteer all I am currently allowed to do is housekeeping or load trucks or the warehouse with pet food for delivery. (For an awesome program which gives pet food to low income families so they can keep their pets.) I have done only housekeeping so far. I learned quickly there are a few issues you have to deal with on housekeeping duty. First, no clear idea of what you should be doing. Except for laundry... I'll get back to this later. They have a list on the wall of duties to be performed each day and the duties get marked off as they are completed. The problem is the list has not been updated with current sheets. It only serves as a guide to what might need to be done. You have to go check it out and see if someone has completed it yet. If not, you do it. This then leads to problem two.

You don't know where anything is and have to ask for help from the staff or higher level volunteers. It's hard to be a bother to people who are obviously busy with their own duties. I tried to be as self sufficient as possible but a few times I just had to ask...... where does the garbage go?....... where can I get Windex refill solution?....... where is the vacuum? Ask the wrong person and you get an answer like "I'm a DOGWALKER!" (cue angels singing in background) "Ask one of the cleaning people." Well, excuuuuusseeee me. I can only hope to reach the levels of animal philanthropy that you have achieved. Let me shuffle off to the belltower and polish the bell while you resume your important duties.

I am not exaggerating. Most of the upper levels avoid eye contact with you and the cat ladies actually gossip and talk insider talk as if you aren't in the room. Maybe most people don't make it past Level One so this could be some sort of defense mechanism on their part. Don't get too attached to the dishwasher they'll be gone in a month. Like the red shirts on Start Trek.

Laundry is the best housekeeping job. Piles and piles of filthy pet bedding that needs washing, drying, folding and putting away. They go through an amazing amount of towels, blankets and rugs in caring for homeless pets. You really feel a sense of accomplishment shuffling baskets of clean laundry down to the cat supply and dog supply rooms. They use them faster than you can keep them supplied. Plus you can sneak a quick peak at the dogs as you stock the supply room..... but don't act too interested or you could be pegged as an animal groupie instead of a hard working volunteer.

This past Sunday I was on the early shift and staked my claim to the laundry room. Busy, busy. Awesome. While off on a clean laundry run my laundry room spot was commandeered by a grey haired lady who was making no bones about being in charge from that point forward. I wasn't happy but moved on to other things that needed doing and occupied the rest of my day.

At one point during the day the Grandma who stole my laundry duty passed by me and announced that she was going off to clean up dog doo from the doggie play yard because "I don't mind dirty jobs like that." I was the only person in the room. Why did she think I cared? I'm even being one-upped by my fellow Level Ones.   I felt like saying... "Oh yeah, well this window cleaning is really rough with my ammonia allergy and my arthritis."

My strategy will continue to be "Keep your eyes down and keep working". I do hope to graduate to a Level where I can interact with the animals.... maybe even a dog walker, dream of dreams. If anything it won't be the hard work that keeps me from it or the heartbreaking stories of these poor animals in need of a good home.  It'll be the people.

One of a Kind

2010-09-14T12:47:00.000-04:00

Our Chance is getting older. Not being the type to celebrate dog birthdays, I'd have to look up his birth certificate to tell you exactly how old. Around 12 I think. Like people years, dog years are on fast forward (times 7). Seems like just yesterday that we picked out the "crazy" red puppy that scrambled just out of reach when we released him from his pen. Not sure why that didn't deter us from choosing him but it didn't. Fate? Destiny? Luck? ........ Chance?

Chance has been a handful.

He eats EVERYTHING he can get his chompers on. It's the Labrador Retriever in him. He has eaten whole loaves of bread, garbage, chocolate (scary & messy) and something my husband calls "cat treats". I won't explain that one. He ate a whole box of paint gun pellets. He once got a hold of a battery and chewed on it. Probably from one of the kids' toys. Thank God he didn't swallow anything but he had a bad case of the drools for a few weeks until his tongue and lips healed.

He's a barker. Not a neurotic barker and not a yippy barker. It's a deep bark he lets loose to let you know he's there, or that he wants something. He's also a snarfer. At least that's what we call it. If he's gotten into something and you start pointing at him accusingly ----- he curls his upper lip up and does this sort of huffing thing with a little growl. Never seen any other dog do it.

My son-in-law says he's a tool but I can tell he secretly likes him. My husband calls him Butthead but also calls him the best dog we've ever owned. My sister went from hating him as a puppy to being openly in love with him today. My Mother feeds him treats on the sly when she visits (like he needs anything else).  For me Chance is top dog. Never been and never will be another dog like him.  He has all the usual dog qualities. Loyalty, devotion, a desire to please...... it's why we love dogs isn't it? But somehow, in Chance, they're all wrapped up in this unique bundle that would be impossible to replace.

Having owned Chance I totally understand how somebody would pay a small fortune to clone a dog. Though I'd be afraid that the "nurture" side of the nature/nurture equation wouldn't be adminstered in the same dose in a Second Chance. We wouldn't end up with the same dog.

Chance has started to slow down. These days he walks instead of runs up the stairs.   He's getting really gray in the muzzle. He has arthritis that needs to be treated with steroids and pain pills every day. There's no getting around the fact that he's a senior dog now.  No way to escape the heartache that is headed our way. I suppose the heartache is the price we pay for having the privilege of the perfect companionship we receive from our dogs, whether we deserve it or not.

These days I hug him a little longer and harder. Pet him a little more vigorously. Tell him he's a good dog more often and slip him an extra biscuit here and there. If somebody asked me to design the perfect world there would be lots of things I would change but near the top of my list would be that dogs live longer.

I quit! And I'm taking my ball with me.

2010-09-09T12:54:00.003-04:00

I'm a Wade. Wades are competitive. We can also, sometimes, be sore losers.   When we lose we can get angry, very angry. It's not pretty. I've seen my father and his twin brother swing golf clubs at each other. The day I threw a chessboard across the room because I was losing was the day I realized I had the "winning is everything" gene. It was also the day I gave up chess.

I've learned to control this ugly side of my competitive nature. I can smile and congratulate the winner very convincingly. But every so often, if I lose to the wrong person (someone who is gloating - someone I think I should have beaten - someone who keeps handing me my ass over and over), I feel this rage boiling up inside me.   Mostly this just causes me to talk through clenched teeth or in extreme cases to leave the room. Once in awhile though I lash out. I'm not proud of it.  It's just how I'm wired.

Last night we played Live Trivia at a local bar. We had a powerhouse team. Daughter, son-in-law and son. They bring me and dear Hubby along for anything that happened prior to 1990 they didn't learn in history.   Stuff like Chaos being the evil organization in Get Smart or the fact that we know who George Burn's wife is. At stake was a $30 gift certificate but more importantly, bragging rights.

Our toughest competition was a table of young, suburban punks. I call them them punks because they were obviously cheating. The rules clearly state "No cell phones allowed." After all, with google's help what fun is a trivia contest.   The Suburban Punks were clearly googling under the table.   WE CALL FOUL!

At half time we were behind them by only one point after we scored an amazing 10 points on the bonus question.

Name the meat contained in each of these dishes:
Sashimi                               (fish)
Bushy Tail w/ apples           (squirrel)
Marsh Rat                          (muskrat)
Squab                                (pigeon) - a last minute change in answer no less

Second half starts. The opposition was hobbled by a quick reminder from the Trivia MC about no cell phones and her watchful eye for the rest of the game to make sure they didn't cheat anymore. Score at the end of the 2nd half was in our favor 63 to their 57.

Time for the bonus question, sort of like Jeapordy. You can risk all or nothing on one question.   Sucks if you're in the lead, awesome turnaround possibility if your'e not.

Besides Jimmy Carter, name one of the other two 20th Century Presidents who lived 30 years past his election.

You have the time it takes for them to play two songs to answer.   At this point one of the suburban punks gets up to go the bathroom.  When he returned he looked around all nervous like, sat down, wrote the answer down and turned it in. OK, they cheated, obviously. We could only assume they had bet everything. This left us no choice but to do likewise. We bet all 63 points. We were confident in our answer - Gerald Ford.

Correct! We beat them 114 to 126. They were not happy. But little did they know they narrowly escaped my competitive fury. If they had beaten us by cheating I would have gone all "Wade" on their asses.

A Cold, Wet Beginning

2010-09-02T18:35:00.006-04:00

Iceland looks like the moon.

My opinion of Iceland, based on my very brief visit, can be summed up with...... a tough bunch of people live here. It's cold and wet with an inhospitable landscape. We had a layover on the way to Europe from 6am until 4pm. I bought bus tickets for the 45 minute ride into Reykjavik and researched a few things for us to do in our short time there. Breakfast, shopping, big old famous church. I even mapped it all out ahead of time. I was prepared.

We started with breakfast at “The Grey Cat”. This restaurant was billed as the local favorite place to be “seen” eating breakfast. It was a cramped, musty basement with pretentious, bohemian art on the walls. I think it should be required to cook your eggs special order if you bill them as part of an “American Breakfast”. The Grey Cat served them one way, sunny side up with snotty, runny whites. Blech.

On to the shopping. Store after store offered the same things, souvenirs (viking stuff, lava rocks, volcanic ash in bottles, keychains and flags) and overpriced sweaters. Oh, and they really have a thing for puffins. I would love to have seen some puffins but we were in the desolate, lunar region of Iceland, not the cool, puffin region. I had to take it on faith that somewhere they have puffins.

This has to be fake.

We visited this concrete church called Hallgrímskirkja. In front was a statue of Leif Eriksson that was a gift from the egocentric US to Iceland. Sort of a thanks for heading out on the open ocean and discovering America.

It was cold and wet and I was miserable because, once again, I had the wrong shoes on. Will I never learn?

Here are my three favorite things we saw in Iceland:

This backyard fence made of stones. Truly a work of art.

The roofs covered in grass (common in Norway too.)

These flowers that look like feathers. (Click to enlarge and see how beautiful and unique these flowers are).

Cool facts about Iceland. Founded in the 9th century by Vikings. All native Icelanders can trace their origins back to the original settlers. They speak Icelandic which is the same language spoken by the Vikings. Population of about 400,000 and most of them live in or near Reykjavik.

The return layover was also 10 hours but it was from midnight to 10am so all we did was sleep on the cold concrete floor of the ticketing terminal. Well, loving husband slept on the floor, he gave me the bench, but it was hard and cold too.

My Feet are Killing Me

2010-08-08T09:47:00.000-04:00

Back when I visited Japan in '97 I took along four pairs of shoes.   Two of them were new. One of my new pairs was a cute, little  pair of black leather ankle boots. (OK they weren't little but they were cute). They looked good with jeans and with my black dress slacks. They also wreaked havoc with the little toe on my left foot.

Here we are 13 years later and that toe is still messed up. I probably should go to the foot doctor but I don't like the idea of people messing around with my feet. Except of course for my husband.   But, he won't come near them.   A girl should be able to get a foot massage once in awhile don't you think? I'll admit they're not my most attractive feature but they're better than my sister's feet. Sorry sis.

I learned a valuable lesson from that trip. Never take new shoes to a country where it will be impossible to replace them. I wear a size 11 woman's shoe, I don't think there's a woman on the entire island nation of Japan with a size 11 foot. Unless of course there's some freakishly big farm girl up in the mountain regions or something.    But I probably wouldn't want her shoes anyway.

I recently bought some shoes form E-bay. (Another lesson learned - don't buy shoes off ebay unless you are familiar with the manufacturer's sizing.) They are very nice shoes and I really wish they fit but they don't. So here I sit, stuck with a pair of size 11 plum colored ballet flats that nobody wants.

Enter, Mr. Gomez. I get an email from the lady I ebayed the shoes from. She forwards me the email address of Mr. Gomez, who is interested in my shoes even if I've worn them. I email him and immediately get a response back. He explains that he lives in Mexico and would like to buy not only these shoes, but any size 11 shoes I have, new or used.    He says he prefers flat shoes and wears a 10.5 shoe.

I am assuming that Mr. Gomez is a transvestite and, like me in Japan in 1997, is stuck in a country with little to no footwear options. I feel for the guy. Today I'll be taking pictures of my used shoes and emailing them to him. I probably won't even charge him for the cute little black leather ankle boots.

Better the Second Time Around

2010-07-29T12:58:00.000-04:00

I've changed my mind about leftovers. I used to turn up my nose at leftovers. My husband always had free reign to snack on them, take them for lunch and eventually feed them to the dog. Much to his dismay, there was no way I was serving them for dinner. He comes from a family where food showed up on the table night after night until it was all gone.

I made a few exceptions. Anything in the soup family was good for a second night. Thanksgiving turkey was used for sandwiches for at least a week. Pizza. That was pretty much it though.

Recently, I have done a complete about face and also figured out why it was I didn't like to cook leftovers. There was never enough for all four of us to get a complete second meal. That essentially meant having to cook two half meals to feed the whole family. Working Moms don't have time for nonsense like that.

Things are different now. Since it's mostly just my dear husband and me for dinner these days there's usually enough for a second meal when I cook something. I'll even cook a little extra to make sure there are leftovers. Cuts cooking time in half, saves on groceries and makes my husband very happy.

Sorry dogs, you'll just have to be satisfied with your kibble.

Plus: He Looks Good Doing It

2010-07-22T13:23:00.003-04:00

Barack Obama is not only my President, he's also my FaceBook Friend (FBF, not to be confused with BFF, as much as I would love hanging out with him it's probably not going to happen).   As his FBF I see the updates he posts on the really cool, progressive stuff he is doing.

As a bonus, at least initially, I am amused by reading the moronic comments written by people who seem to split their time between playing Farmville, watching Jerry Springer and Glen Beck and listening to Rush Limbaugh.    The entertainment factor of these misspelled, gramatically incorrect, ill informed comments gives way eventually to a sinking feeling in my stomach that cable TV and the internet have ruined our ability as a people to a) think for ourselves or b) put together a sentence with subject, verb and object. God help us all. My only hope is that all along we have had this idiotic fringe and the only difference is they now have a platform to spew their hate and ignorance.

Anyway, Barack, my FBF, also posts pictures of the White House goings-on. That's where I got the above picture.   I must say, President Obama has it going on. I'm not sure I'm supposed to have these sorts of feelings when looking at a photo of the POTUS.   I remember the following emotions from images of former Presidents: Carter - sympathy, Reagan - bewilderment, Bush Sr. - indifference, Clinton - amusement, Bush Jr - disgust.    Never has a Presidential photo elicited long dreamy gazes and heavy sighs.   That swagger, the confidence, the handsome good looks.    I'm sure I'm doing exactly what his PR media folks are expecting me to do and as much as I hate being anybody's pawn, it's working. Keep the photos coming.

Fashion Disaster Plate

2010-07-14T21:45:00.004-04:00

I usually don't go out on a fashion limb. Hell, I'm usually firmly on the ground hugging the tree trunk when it comes to fashion.  I like white and black clothes. They go well with every other color. You simply can't mess it up. Perhaps you look boring, but you never look mismatched. When I really want to make a statement I do black and white together. Bold move, I know.

I have a long history of making poor fashion decisions. I blame it on my mother. Don't take pity on her. She's used to taking the blame.    She has gladly accepted responsibility for my big feet, my mild heart defect, my thin lifeless hair and my introverted personality.   I in turn am responsible for the genetic crosses I have laid across my children's shoulders.   It's the whole circle of life - Take the bad with the good - Shutup and work with what you got - thing.

Why do I blame my poor fashion sense on my mother. See that picture above.  I ran across it on the internet. It's a "vintage" pattern. That picture could be me, circa 1969, complete with pixie haircut, turtleneck and poncho. I think it actually might BE me. Butterick owes me some royalties. God I hate pixies.

Here's another sample from my childhood wardrobe. Stirrup pants. I had a pair that was exactly this color green. A humiliating choice when paired with a little sweater vest over a turtleneck.

Or how about this number. The BOX dress. Mine was a yellow plaid number made of wool. Ugly and itchy to boot. That dress was also responsible for my most embarrassing first grade moment. I neglected to put a shirt underneath it one morning when I decided to give Mom a break and dress myself for school. I left her sleeping as I walked to school not realizing (or maybe just not caring) that my little girl chest was on display for anyone who looked at me from the side. My mother was called to come get me and told to put some proper clothes on me.

Sure, these clothes look all mod and retro now but they were the stuff of nightmares to a girl who just wanted to wear bell bottom pants with cool vests. Or a kicky little dress with a scarf and white go-go boots. Sigh.

My whole life my outfits have always been a little off or a step behind or they just don't fit right. From tube tops and nylon "scene" shirts in '76 to the orange leather trench coat with the rabbit fur collar in '78. I learned to accept that "style" just does not come naturally to me. Then as I got older I realized that "my" style does come naturally to me. I know what I like, I know what I'm comfortable in and black and white never go out of style.

Miscellany

2010-07-08T12:41:00.000-04:00

Not feeling inspired to blog about anything lately. Lots of activity, all of it fun none of it significant.

I had a wonderful 4th weekend. We hosted a small BBQ on Saturday. I tried several new recipes. Some were a hit (the chicken wings and baked pita chips went over really well), one was a tasteless nightmare (the “tangy” coleslaw was most definitely not tangy) and the rest were OK. We have decided that ribs should ALWAYS be pre-cooked before grilling and that staying home to watch the fireworks from our own backyard can’t be beat.

Most of Sunday was spent recuperating from the BBQ with a quick run to the dog park. It was oppressively hot and the dogs were only able to muster a little enthusiasm which quickly disappeared. They were happy to go back to the air conditioned car when it was time to leave. That was OK by me because the park was mostly empty. Half the fun for me is seeing and petting all the other dogs we meet there.

Our big ambitious project of painting the family room this weekend did not happen. Instead we went to IKEA and planned out a craft room. I have lots of plans for my craft room. Scrapbooking for sure. I’ve also decided to try my hand at beading. Plus it will be a nice place to store all those half finished projects I have stuffed all over the house. There are loads of other miscellaneous projects I’d like to try. Husband is giving me the old "you better practically live in that room if we go to all the trouble to set it up." Yeah, yeah....

Five week countdown to Germany starts today. Most of the time will be spent at my Uncle's farmhouse in Mahlow which is just south of Berlin. Every time I've visited Berlin I run out of time to see everything I want to see. So today I booked a studio apartment in downtown Berlin for 3 nights. It's pictured above. We'll be right near the Brandenburg Gate, Checkpoint Charlie and all the museums. We will be able to roam the city for a few days. Should be wonderful.

My Digital Legacy

2010-06-30T13:20:00.007-04:00

A co-worker of mine recently mentioned that a facebook friend of his died. The friend's page is still up and running and getting activity. Mostly farewells and tributes from the deceased's friends. He said it was very odd to have these pop up on his FB news feed, bringing memories of his friend when he least expects it.

The digital age has changed things in so many ways. How we interact and communicate. How we are entertained. It's changed our language.  Now it may even impact what our families need to do after we're gone. I know it will for me.

My e-mail account - How long would it continue to collect junk mail if nobody turned it off?   Indefinitely? Come to think of it, I'm sure I have at least five or six accounts I've set up over the years in an attempt to keep my real mail free of junk. A futile exercise, by the way.   Will these accounts just keep waiting for the log-in that never comes?

My facebook account -   I think I'll ask my daughter to post a tribute update. Something along the lines of "Mom's final update...... It's been fun, see you all on the other side!"

My blog - I don't trust the digital world to maintain my blog for the long haul.   I am going to start printing it out as a backup.   Not because I think it is super significant in any way but because it's important to me. I also think it would be a good way for my future progeny to get to know great-great-great grandma Christine.   I wish I had my ancestors' blogs to know what they were all about.

My WOW character - As in World of Warcraft. You know, the on-line role playing game. Sounds silly I know but I have a lot of time and effort put into Falana. Scientist have done studies of the brain while people are playing "avatar" based games like WOW. They found that the areas of the brain that are activated when somebody is controlling their character are the same as when people are asked to think about themselves.   These digital personas become like extensions of ourselves.   I am entrusting Falana to my guild leader, Tony. He would do right by her. My family, not so much. They don't get the whole WOW thing.

All of this is assuming we make it past 12/21/12. As my sister says to my niece. None of it will really matter if the Mayans were right and we are going to get fried by some solar flare anyway.   Just in case, maybe we should be sending our digital personas into space.... wasn't that a Star Trek episode? The one where Picard lived another life on a planet that had a dying sun.   The one where he plays the flute he finds floating around in space even though he never learned to play the flute before. Not a Star Trek TNG fan? You should be.

Tired Routine

2010-06-25T13:39:00.001-04:00

Girls/women can be so mean to each other. For some it seems to be hard wired into their DNA. Most of us have had “that” friend. She’s the one that somehow managed to wrap a punch to the gut around every compliment she ever gave you. Or sometimes it was just a nagging little lilt in her voice with the hidden message that you are not as pretty, smart, funny or “fill in your own adjective here” as her.

Some of us were lucky enough to have strong women in our life who taught us about these emotional vampires. We learn that their cruelty isn’t about us. It’s about them and how they feel about themselves. We leave these girls/women behind and seek out friendships built on mutual respect and acceptance.

So why, after 30 years, can a person like this pop up and stir the same emotions in you that she did when you were an insecure teenager? How did she learn your buttons so well and remember how to use them after all this time? Or does she use the same, old tired routine on everybody?

Ignore her. She doesn’t know me anymore. I doubt she ever really knew me. Let it go. Move on.

Photo credit: Just Let It Go by Kotama Bouabane

Hang a Left at the Giant Jesus

2010-06-16T19:33:00.007-04:00

I, like most women, navigate by landmark. Men, on the other hand, usually navigate by direction, north, south, east or west. Test it out if you don’t believe me.

If you ask a man how to get to the airport you’ll get “Go West on Michigan Ave. then South on 275 and East on Eureka to the airport exit on the south side of the road.”

Women will say, “Take Michigan Ave that way (pointing) then go south on the freeway, take the Eureka road exit left. You can’t miss it. It’s right past the airport landing lights that run along the side of the freeway. Then there’s a big sign on the right side of Eureka for the airport entrance.”

I do have a good sense of direction. Even after many turns I can generally tell where I am in relation to where I started. But it's not a north / south thing. I’ve never understood why someone needs a compass in their car. I only see two situations in which a compass would be handy. Lost at sea or lost in the wilderness and you have to make sure you don’t end up going in circles trying to find civilization. Do people really decide which way to turn at an intersectin by consulting their compass?

I used to regularly drive from our tech center in Michigan to our plant in Ohio. Four hours of driving down I75 through corn fields, boring/flat Ohio landscape and truck stops. If you weren’t careful you’d be mesmerized by the boredom and find yourself in Kentucky.

Fortunately, right next to my exit off the freeway, the Solid Rock Church built one of the most distinguishable landmarks I have ever navigated by. A giant Jesus. I’m not talking about a big Jesus. I mean a GIANT JESUS. He was pure white, outstretched hands to heaven, with the upper half of his body emerging from a man made pond. Just so you don't mistake him for John the Baptist, a big cross lays in front of him. No possible way to miss it. From there it was right at the prison, left at the ice cream shop, left after you cross the bridge and then the first right. For the life of me I couldn’t tell you the name of one of those streets. But I trust that I could get you there time and time again.

That is, until today. My friend told me the bad news. The Giant Jesus was struck by lighting and burned to the ground. The church promises to “resurrect:” the statue. I wonder who came up with that line, the church or the journalist.

I can’t help but secretly think this is divine intervention. Some higher power trying to tell them that such an in-your-face symbol of Christianity isn’t everybody’s cup of tea. A message from on high to "Tone it down".

Their plan to rebuild the Jesus is a "testament" (see, I can do it too) to their commitment to bold statements of faith. As a precaution against another lightning strike I think they should give Jesus a lightning rod to hold over his head. Or would they worry that a lightning rod laid witness to their lack of faith and trust in God?

BEFORE

AFTER

Lake Michigan

2010-06-10T13:04:00.004-04:00

Dogs love beaches too. Daughter, me and husband along with Maize, Chance and Mario. Memorial Day weekend.

photo credit to my son-in-law Luis

My own worst enemy.

2010-06-07T13:18:00.001-04:00

I went ahead and did it. Even after all my big talk about the sanctity of the written word on paper. I bought an e-reader. I'm a sucker for a bargain and woot.com had refurbished Sony E-Readers at a price I couldn't resist. I have to say, I actually kind of like it. I bought two ebooks and am about a quarter of the way through the first book. I like that the other book is sitting in my reader's memory patiently waiting for me to get to it. My written books on the other hand sit on the shelf looking at me accusingly, wondering when I will get to them. Wait til they see me with the new ereader. I'm never going to hear the end of it.

I've come to find out that my purchase has sounded the death knell for book stores the world over. Including the behemoth Border's Books. This is not a good thing. Besides the fact that I love Borders, I have a personal interest in its survival. Albeit a small interest.

I convinced my husband a few months ago to let me play around a little bit with the stock market. He agreed, while making it clear he thought it was more like gambling than investing. I said that's OK. I'm a gambler. I bought a miniscule number of two stocks.

The first is Activision, game company responsible for Guitar Hero, Modern Warfare and World of Warcraft. How could this go wrong? Not long after my investment the developers of one of their most popular games walked out and they are now embroiled in a nasty court battle over royalties. Strike one.

The second stock I bought is Borders. The price dropped to record lows so I figured it was one of those opportunities to buy low and sell high. The stock initally increased but has since plummeted to even lower record lows. Not much room left until rock bottom. Lots of reasons why, financing, getting too big too fast, etc. I also read that the rapid increase in the number of ebooks is doing quite a bit of damage to book sellers. Damn, I'm at cross purposes again. I have to rethink my idea about selling stacks and stacks of my books on half.com. I don't think Borders can take anymore pressure.

Unlikely

2010-06-04T18:15:00.002-04:00

I attended an HR briefing about the Health Care Reform Act. Every time I attend one of these I learn something new. HCR has loads of new provisions, most of them using terms and general standards that have yet to be defined. It's mostly general concepts. As in most things coming out of Washington these days, it's not so well thought out.

The intent of this reform is admirable and there are certain provisions that will make an immediate and meaningful difference for the un(der)-insured in this country. But I can’t help thinking that we missed the mark on this one. Overly complicated, bureaucratic and not aimed at the real root of the problem.

It’s like health care is a henhouse. We are going to spend a lot of time and money patching holes and putting chicken wire over the whole thing to keep the chickens safe. The one thing we forgot to do though was get the fox out of the henhouse. I’m talking about the companies making assloads of money off of health care, the insurance companies and brokers and pharmaceuticals. They are profit driven. Any additional costs they incur will be passed on to the consumer. That's exactly what's happening with health care reform.

Stupid. Why did we create a system that hides the cost in a million different places? Why didn’t we just institute a national health care system funded by a new tax?

Today's speaker at the briefing perfectly illustrates what is holding us back from making such a bold change. He owns a brokerage firm. Oh, pardon me…. “benefits consulting” firm. He makes money from the insurance companies on commissions for policies he places with them. I knew what to expect the minute I took in his $1000 suit and gold, monogrammed cufflinks. 'Oh boy. This ought to be good' says me to myself.

His opening… “The good news is that the major elements of this law will not take effect until 2014. That’s two election cycles where we have the opportunity to put more business minded people in power.” Who is this "we" he is talking about?

On increasing the dependent age out to 26..... "So now we have to cover your slug of a kid who can't manage to leave the basement and find a job." Have you seen the unemployment statistics you moron?

On eliminating the pre-existing exclusion......"Anybody who finds themselves sick and in need of insurance can now get coverage even though up to that point they weren't doing the responsible, adult thing and buying insurance." Doesn't he realize how many people find themselves in a position of choosing between insurance and food?

Gratuitous references to his own wealth....... "I view chiropractic care as "essential" to my golf game." "I own the building my company is located in and rent space to many small businesses. How will they pay for rent and health care?"

This schlub had no sympathy for anybody who finds themselves in a position without health insurance. Stereotypical response from people of his ilk. He delivered the entire hour and a half presentation with a smug, little smirk on his face. After all, why not? He's secretly very happy about this change. Higher premiums means more commissions for him.

Health care won't truly be reformed until it becomes non profit. Heck I 'd even settle for "reasonable profit".

Self Diagnosis

2010-05-28T12:43:00.000-04:00

The internet is like an endless branching tree. Its grasping limbs suck me in and toss me around from one website to the next. Sometimes the leaps are related to one another but more often than not I am carried off to a totally different subject. Curiosity is a blessing and a curse.

I believe I have always had mild ADD. I've called it "absent mindedness" up to now. But it's time to face facts. The constant bombardment of information these days has worsened my distractedness to the point that I can barely focus when put in front of a computer.

What starts out as a quick search to find out more about “jarlsberg cheese” leads me down the path to “olives” then to “tapas” then on to “packing a picnic lunch” then to “good walking trails in Michigan” then to Coldwater Creek to see if they have anything good on sale (50% off…. I’m going to save so much money) then to my bank account to make sure my check was deposited….. it’s endless. I find myself forgetting what my original google intentions were.

Cryptic notes are scattered around my desk at work and home. Tiny scraps of paper in my purse with barely legible scribbles about something on a podcast. These notes are meant to remind me about books to evaluate, recipes to look up, topics of interest to researched. (OK research is a little bit of an overstatement).

Ever hear of the site howstuffworks.com? Awesome (high pitched, sing-songy trill ---- annoying isn’t it?) They have information on EVERYTHING….. seriously. I discovered it because I am addicted to several of their podcasts. “Stuff You Missed in History Class” “The Coolest Stuff on Earth” “Stuff Mom Never Told You” and my all time favorite “Stuff You Should Know”. (Love you Josh & Chuck)

These podcasts are responsible for at least one note per day on stuff to look up. How stuff works has more podcasts I’m itching to dig into but I don’t think I can cram anymore information into my head. Gee, I wonder how the popularity of podcasting is changing over time. Is it threatening radio? How do free podcasts make money? What’s the ratio of podcasts that charge money? The questions are endless…..

Photographer Credit: Shawn Lea from Jackson, MS, US

Sayonara Friend

2010-05-24T19:14:00.002-04:00

It's a sad day today. One of my co-workers returned to Japan. Reiko is an awesome HR manager, very funny and sweet but tough when she has to be. She is the first woman from our huge, parent company in Japan to take an overseas assignment. A trailblazer, if you will. You may pshaw me assigning her the title of trailblazer but you would only be demonstrating that you don’t know much about Japanese culture. They are about 30 years behind us when it comes to women in the workplace. Though, if my friend is any indication, Japan has seen some progress since I was there.

I visited Japan in 1997 as part of a big 100 year anniversary for my former employer, Sumitomo Electric. I attended factory & office tours, dinners, luncheons and presentations during my ten days there. I was shocked at how the company women were on the periphery everywhere I went. I mean it literally, the women would stand up against the back wall waiting for somebody to need something. In an office setting they are called “wallflowers”. None of them occupied any desks, at least not in any of the areas I visited. Just wall to wall "salary men" toiling away everywhere I looked.

After hours, in a bar in Tokyo, I had the chance to talk to one of the Japanese women employees. She was responsible for preparing assignees before they were transferred to the US. She spoke very good English. She explained that she enjoyed her job very much but understood that if she were to marry and have children she would be expected to quit her job. I was outraged on her behalf and shocked at how accepting she was of this sexist norm. Then I reminded myself I was in their country and acting like the typical egocentric American, measuring everybody by the way we do things.

The law is slowly changing in Japan. Big Japanese employers (Sumitomo included) are being taken to court by their women employees on charges of discrimination and they are losing. They are being forced to give women the same opportunites as men. They also have to be careful about shaming a woman into quitting once she's married. It still happens though, culture is slow to change. They, men and women both, just don't find it acceptable for women with young children to be working. Japanese women are postponing marriage longer and longer, knowing that they will have to give up their careers. I think this change, along with the more indpendent and progressive minded youth will open the door for working mothers in Japan. It’s just going to take some time.

For my friend to be sent to a strange country as an unmarried woman is rare indeed. Her mindset is the tide that will turn Japan. She is confiedent in her ability, she knows she faces bias from her male counerparts. She doesn't care. She just does her job and ignores their shock, hesitancy and wonder at having to deal with a woman in a senior manager position. Having worked for a Japanese company for so many years I’m used to having to say goodbye. Assignees come and go in three year intervals. This one is hard though. I will miss Reiko a lot. Not for all she's accomplished for equal rights in our company but because she's my friend.

Graphics courtesy of dryicons

Bumping and Grinding

2010-05-20T12:57:00.003-04:00

Best trip to Vegas ever.... Good company, good food, a nice jackpot on the slots day one that subsidized my bad blackjack luck the rest of the week. The room was great with the best view of Vegas we've ever had. It was really hard to come home to the same old grind.

Speaking of grinds, when did dancing turn into bumping and grinding your behind into somebody's groin. We went to the VooDoo club on the top of the Rio. Got there before the crowds and chose the lower deck because it was a little quieter and had a great view. By the time I needed to visit the ladies room the upper deck was packed with young hard bodies grinding away at each other. I literally was propelled from one side of the deck to other by all the thrusting. I felt like somebody owed me dinner afterwards. And the dresses these girls are wearing. Little black dress is not accurate. It's more like miniscule black dress. The reason these places don't have seats is these girls couldn't possibly sit down in those things.

Stayed at the Mirage, my favorite place to gamble and sleep and then gamble some more. The dealers there are so friendly you hardly notice they are taking your money. New favorite drink is the Lemon Drop martini and my new favorite bar scene is "Dueling Pianos". Saw an awesome duo at Napolean's in Paris. Great music and very funny.

When can I go back?

Jack or Sawyer?

2010-05-05T18:00:00.001-04:00

Only 3 episodes of Lost left and there will officially be nothing on TV to watch anymore. This has been one awesome season. I’ve been with them from the beginning, never waivered. Even during the rough seasons where the plot was all over the place leading you to believe the writers were making it up episode by episode with no idea how it all fit together. Even through the season I missed because of a certain spouse who erased four episodes forcing me to wait for the season release on DVD. Through thick and thin.

One sure fire hook for me and many women I think is that every week we are presented with two archetypes of male attractiveness that are, at least for me, irresistible. The All American handsome doctor vs. the Hardass, Hardbody Troubled Soul. And just like the lead female character, Kate, we go back and forth between the two. Jack or Sawyer? We know what we mean when we ask each other that question.

In a perfect world you would live in a matriarchal society where you could have them both. But who’s kidding who here? Matriarchal societies were done away with once organized religion found a way to marginalize anything feminine. I decided religion wasn’t for me when I heard a sermon about how the husband was like the head of the body and the wife was the neck, there to support him. Off track, off topic and sure to offend somebody so I’ll try to course correct here.

So, given that we must choose, who do you go for? Jack or Sawyer? I have to go with Sawyer. The bad boy has always held more appeal for me. They are more of a challenge, they argue better, and are less likely to leave you once you get older. I imagine the Jacks of the world spend a little too much time gazing at themselves in mirrors. They know they are breathtakingly handsome and never let you forget it.

My daughter sent me a link with pictures of the Lost actors before they were famous. The pictures of Jack and Sawyer were from their high school days. There was Jack in his football uniform looking all dreamy and unobtainable. And there was Sawyer, looking as if he was skipping school and headed out to find some trouble somewhere. That sealed the deal.. Sawyer, all the way.

What a pain.

2010-04-30T13:50:00.001-04:00

I feel like I've blogged about my tooth before. Have I? I checked back on my list of blog posts and if I did I can't find it. If I have and this seems familiar to you, stop reading and do me the favor of leaving a comment that says "Stop repeating yourself".

I'm in the market for a new dentist. I am not happy about it. It's hard to find a good dentist. Same is true of a good hairdresser. Getting your hair cut or having dental work is tough for an introvert. Both are very personal services to begin with. Then to make matters worse the people providing the service try to chit chat you up while they are doing it.

You can tell when they are faking a personal interest in you. Please don't bother. Just (cut my hair), (fill my tooth) and I'll be on my way. What I liked about this dentist was his sincerity. Quiet guy who really seemed to take an interest in his patients. It took me a long time to find him and I've been going to him for years. My whole family goes to him now.

In the beginning everything went wonderfully between my dentist and me but over the last few years our relationship has deteriorated. I blame him.

He botched a root canal and ignored me every six months when I told him that the tooth felt funny. Not painful, just funny. He always wanted to wait and see..... Fast forward eight years ... my tooth got infected to the point that my gum swelled up with a nice little pocket of pus. Gross, I know, but that's what it was.

I made an appointment. Finally, he gave me a referral to an endodontist who re-did the root canal. My misery wasn't over though. The infection was so bad I had to go back four months later and have oral surgery to scrape the infection from my bone.

I decided I had had enough. I was going to find a new dentist. I know some of you are thinking "Hello?? Why did you wait eight years?" Please see above where I mention I "hate" finding a new dentist. I finally had to admit though that quality of dental work surpasses the quality of the social experience while in the chair.

As I was procrastinating about actually doing something to find a new dentist one of my fillings fell out. I had no choice. I went back to my dentist.

He put a new filling in and told me we would have to do a crown. I asked if I would need a root canal before he did it. He actually answered me "Well, I know how sensitive you are about root canals because of that problem you had with the last one. If you think you need one, we can do it."

If I think I need one? Aren't you the freaking dentist? Shouldn't you be telling me what I need? And how dare you act as if my root canal problem was an emotional issue on my part. That's it. I am REALLY finding a new dentist now.

All they need is a foothold.

2010-04-23T13:12:00.000-04:00

Does anybody else see a similarity between the proposed Arizona immigration law and the measures taken by the Germans in the 1930’s to identify Jews? The proposal would make it a REQUIREMENT for local Arizona law enforcement to determine an individual's immigration status if an officer SUSPECTS that person is in the country illegally. They can look at you and decide that you need to produce papers saying you are legally here in the US.

Those who think that somehow the Germans were intrinsically evil and that nothing like that could happen again should read the book “Stones from the River” by Ursula Hegi. The Nazis didn’t march into Germany one day and take over as the Third Reich. It was a slow and gradual process that started with measures like those being proposed in Arizona. Things that were easy for people to shake their head at in disagreement and go on about their business. Next thing you know people are wearing stars on their clothes. Then another year or two later and they are being hauled off in the middle of the night to be murdered. Meanwhile everybody else is either brainwashed or living in fear of the crazies now running the country.

These border fanatics are employing the same tactics in Arizona. Their message – “Everything wrong with your life is THEIR fault. If we can just get control (get rid of) THEM things will be better for everybody.” I’ve had statistics quoted to me about the number of illegal aliens in prison, in gangs, in HUD housing, on welfare….. The people quoting these statistics don’t seem to understand that poverty is the common denominator for these issues, not alien status or their not-so-veiled implication that it’s based on somebody’s nationality.

Immigration needs reform. Nobody can argue that point. My opinion is we do two things. First, punish the people who employ illegal aliens. They are the ones promoting illegal immigration into this country. Easy explanation for why we don’t. They are the business owners who make contributions to political campaigns. So instead we demonize the illegals who are, for the most part, coming here to make a better life for themselves. Isn’t that where most of us came from somewhere down the line?

For the better part of my twenty years in HR I have collected I-9s to make sure our employees are able to work legally in the US. I have never once had my records inspected by INS. I’ve never talked to another HR person who has. Employers know that the government doesn’t have the resources to enforce the law. They are too busy building fences and adding guards at the border. Let’s enforce our immigration laws at the source of the income. Enforce existing laws against HIRING illegal aliens and punish those who ignore them.

Second, issue working visas that would make it easier for immigrants to work here on a temporary basis. This benefits everybody. We could start collecting taxes off of these wages. It would also raise the overall wage rate in the US which right now is being held down because of under the table wages paid to illegal immigrants. With a legal method to come here and work the people left trying to illegally cross the borders would be criminals trying to avoid the scrutiny of the INS.

I am probably a little more sensitive these days to the immigration issue. My new son-in-law is Mexican. So, when I hear people paint all Mexicans as (fill in the blank), it makes me very angry. These days it seems to be OK to spew hatred and venom on Latinos so long as you replace the word Mexican with “Illegal Immigrants”. You think that means you’re not a racist? Bullshit.

Unbelievable

2010-04-20T12:50:00.003-04:00

This is my Dad. Hard working, honest and the man that taught me to treat all people in this world with respect and dignity. He will be 70 years old this September. He's a paradox in so many ways. One of the most generous people you will ever meet but also able to pinch a penny tighter than anybody I know. Kind of works on the perimeter of things as if he isn't paying any attention to you at all and then he will come off with a statement that makes you realize he really has been paying attention. Says some insensitive things but then will do something so incredibly thoughtful and sweet that it nearly makes you cry. He frustrates me to no end sometimes but I also wouldn't trade him for any other Dad in the world.

He's on Facebook now. Not because he wants to keep up on the latest and greatest social networking trend. Because he's a man on a mission and it involves making my Mom happy, which he tries to do to the best of his ability.

Our trip to Norway this August is a return trip for my mother. She spent time there in the mid 50's, recuperating from rheumatic fever. Not sure why Norway's climate was better than Germany, maybe they thought the mountain air would do her good. She has many fond memories of the place and especially the people she met. But being a young girl when she was there she only knew people by their first names.

Not sure how we were going to find them except to wander through the village asking around. My Dad needed a better plan than that though. He's not really one for flying by the seat of your pants. I also suspect he can't see us making this expensive sojourn to Scandanavia and ending up with nothing to show for it.

He called the hotel where we are staying and asked the person who answered if she knew anybody who lived in the village we are going to visit. The desk clerk said no but her co-worker had grown up there and probably did. This progressed to where we are now. A FB account for my Dad and friendships with many of these people from my mother's past. We now have addresses, names and open invitations for coffee when we are in town.

What a guy!

Great Special Effects

2010-04-15T19:03:00.017-04:00

I get a news feed on my iGoogle at work. Very distracting because I am very distractable. Today a story about a meteor blazing through the midwestern skies caught my eye. I love end of the world type stuff and though my friend Tony will probably disown me..... one of my favorite movies is Armageddon. The other movie, Deep Impact, that came out at the same time is also worth watching again whenever I run across it. Heck, I even liked 2012, as hokey and implausible as it was.

All of these movie special effects though couldn't prepare me for how chilling it is to see the real thing. That's a real fireball shooting over your head. Hello? That thing could kill somebody.

My favorite part of this video is how they circle the meteor in the replay. Yeah, we see it.

Somebody told me that the meteor in the first one was probably the size of a grain of sand. No wonder the Worldwide Meteor Detection Net didn't pick them up. If there is such a thing. I hope there is.

I also heard they are predicting another meteor shower to rain down upon us on April 21st. You'll have to excuse me now while I go stock my apocolypse bunker.

Aisle Rage

2010-04-14T13:37:00.003-04:00

Sort of like road rage only it happens in a grocery store. Have you ever suffered? Or are you one of the inconsiderate people who invoke it in others? Here's how you can tell, give yourself one point for each yes answer:

Do you wander aimlessly from one side of the aisle to the other instead of keeping your cart to the right? You see, it works sort of like a road, where people following traffic rules makes things run much more smoothly.

Has your cart ever been parked sideways in an aisle? Double points if you've left it there while you went to a different aisle to get something you forgot.

Are you oblivious to what is going on around you? (Say yes if you've ever had a line up of four carts waiting for you to decide whether you want your tuna packed in oil or water..... go for the water packed tuna, it's better for you.)

Do you bring your five kids to the store with you during the after work grocery store rush?

Do you let your toddler wander behind you munching on a box of animal crackers and drinking a chocolate milk because you don't want to make them sit in the cart because they will cry about it even though they are clearly wreaking havoc as they stand obstinately in front of the dairy coolers not letting anybody get their milk?

Do you refuse to move forward at the register which prevents the person behind you from putting their groceries on the belt?

If you answered yes to ANY of these questions you could be the target of aisle rage. If somebody walks past you shaking their head in disbelief and mumbling to themselves you'll know for sure you need to work on your aisle ettiquette.

Rant within a rant. I don't care how cute your kid is. I had kids, they were cute too. Get your kid out of the way. You are teaching them to believe that the world revolves around them. It doesn't and the rest of us will be saddled with having to teach the obnoxious brat that lesson when he/she becomes our student, employee, co-worker. Consideration, it's a positive trait that will serve your precious little muffin well in the future. Pass it on.

Where was I ......?

2010-04-11T12:50:00.001-04:00

Oh yeah, homeless guy in San Francisco.  It was on my second trip to SF that I had the scariest street encounter of my life, but it wasn't my first. I was an experienced harrassee.  My previous run in was in Ann Arbor. I was walking down Liberty St., near State. I think I was going to the book store or something. I was carrying Miss Erica, who at the time was about one year old.  1987.

It was a beautiful summer day. I hear this woman behind me going on and on about "You've got William F. Buckley's granddaughter. You can't have her. Give her back to me. Hey lady, give me that baby." I turn around to see who she's talking to and lo and behold it's me. I turned back around and kept walking. She caught up to me and was yelling in my face about how I had to give her William F. Buckley's granddaughter back.   Miss Erica was crying and I was pretty scared since she wouldn't leave me alone no matter how much I ignored her.

Since there were no police in sight I ducked into a shoe store to ask one of the clerks to call the police. I was hoping Homeless Hannah wouldn't follow me into the store but she did. She's yelling by this point as I calmly try to explain to the clerk that this crazy lady won't leave me alone.   He hesitated. Seriously. As if he couldn't decide who was telling the truth, me or the crazy lady in rags.  After all, Miss Erica was balling and who was to say whose baby it was..... except of course that Hannah was claiming it was WILLIAM F. BUCKLEY'S GRANDDAUGHTER. I don't think he knew who WFB was because I thought that was clearly a point in my favor.   Finally he decided to believe me (I think it was because I had more teeth than she did) and called the police. By the time they came Hannah was long gone.

The homeless guy in San Francisco was a much scarier encounter.  It was my second trip there, probably around '92 or so. Business during the week and sightseeing on the weekend. My husband had flown out with me. We saw all the sights you see when touring SF.  One night we were walking near Fisherman's Wharf but a little off the beaten path. We like to find little hole in the wall bars or restaurants whenever we visit a new city.    We ended up on a street with not a lot of anything going on. No bars, restaurants or shops and only a few people here and there.

Down the street heading right for us is this scary looking homeless guy. What made him scary were two things. One, he was looking up and was trying to make eye contact with people. Most homeless people look down at the ground or stare off into space. Not this guy. He seemed to be saying "I dare you to look at me". The second scary thing about him was the baseball bat he was swinging around.   He clearly was not coming from baseball practice. That bat was a weapon and he was not afraid to use it.

Jim can handle himself.  At that time he had been studying Soo Bahk Do, a Korean martial art, for a number of years and had a black belt.  Though he learned in his studies that it's best to avoid an encounter if you can.    He calmly advised me that maybe we should cross the street.   I'm not sure if that's what did it or the fact that I kept stealing glances at the guy. Either way, we were targeted. He crossed the street and put himself in our path again.   This time we turned around and started walking. He started yelling at us as he followed us. I don't remember what he was saying exactly, mostly incoherent stuff.   As he's gaining on us he is slamming the baseball into every inanimate object he comes across.... signs, parking meters, mailboxes. BANG.

I was very scared. I was pretty sure Jim could protect us but was worried he would get hurt in the process. In the end Jim decided to make a stand. He said "Stop walking and get behind me." As soon as we did that and Jim looked this guy straight in the eye, he sort of mumbled something, hit the nearest street sign with his bat, did an about face and left us alone.

Never had another encounter since then, at least not with a homeless person. There was the time I used a dryer at the laundromat and was informed by this crazy guy that I had used "his" dryer. Spittle flying from his mouth, red faced. I calmly moved my clothes to another dryer and he settled back into his chair and started rocking back and forth again.    You just never know what will set somebody off. Sad , really, how many of the homeless are obviously suffering from untreated mental illnesses.

Who knew it could be like this?

2010-04-05T20:47:00.001-04:00

The first big city I visited was San Francisco. Well, the first big “real” city anyway. I had visited Detroit plenty of times before that. Detroit hardly qualifies as a great American city. Hell, it barely qualifies as a functioning city. It is a rusted out shell of its former self. It’s more of a cautionary tale about what happens when a huge percentage of the population leaves for the suburbs followed by 50 years of mostly corrupt governance.

You ever see "The Omega Man"? A movie from the 60's, maybe early 70's, with Charlton Heston. It's based on the same story as Will Smith's "I am Legend". There's a scene in that move meant to illustrate how everybody's dead and gone. It even has tumbleweed rolling down the street. That's Detroit, minus the tumbleweed.

I grew up in the western suburbs of Detroit. As a kid I would sometimes go to downtown Hudson’s department store with my Mom for their annual sale. As a teenager I attended concerts at Cobo Hall and later Joe Louis Arena. All of these excursions involved getting in your car, driving to your destination, parking as close as you could, attending the event, getting back to your car as quickly as possible (especially at night), and driving home. Not only wasn’t it safe to go walking around, there really wasn’t any reason to. The majority of Detroit looks like this:

Detroit Train Station

Abandoned Home

Another One

Shopping District

After I got married I lived in Ann Arbor. It’s a wonderful college town. I use the words vibrant, bohemian and quirky to describe Ann Arbor. There I got my first taste of walking downtown streets, eating at an outdoor café and the hustle and bustle that comes with a thriving community. As a college town though, Ann Arbor is almost entirely focused on the University and its students. It lacks the bigness and the competing interests that you find in a major city.

I never imagined what a real city was like. Then in the early 90's I visited San Francisco on a business trip. I had never seen a bustling big city neighborhood before. Everywhere I looked there were people working and shopping and even living in these cities. I had no idea. A year later I went to Boston, which confirmed that San Francisco was no fluke. In the ensuing twenty years I've been to many cities. Sad to say that none of them are as dismal as Detroit. Cincinnati came close but it's more gritty than destitute. It has a certain character.

There have been attempts to revitalize Detroit that have resulted in some positive changes. A thriving casino district, though, is hardly something to hang your hat on for sustained improvement. What will help Detroit? 1) A good public transportation system. We have no train system, no subway and the city line and suburb lines are operated by two different companies. 2) We have to get people living in the city again. When they live there, they will want to shop and work there. They will pay taxes that the city sorely needs. 3) Somebody has to take over that corrupt school system and start all over again.

I hope there's a brighter future for Detroit. The city motto after all is: "We hope for better things; it shall arise from the ashes."

(This post was originally going to be about an encounter I had with a homeless guy in San Francisco. Ms. Healthypants comment reminded me of it. I got sidetracked. Stay tuned.)

Go Ahead. Make My Day.

2010-03-31T18:49:00.001-04:00

My son called me today to tell me a story. This is how he started it, "Um I guess you should know I got attacked by two hobos."

What? When? Where? Are you OK?

Seems last Saturday he was returning to his apartment on foot at 3 am after a late night "study session". He was alone and decided to take a shortcut under a bridge. Two homeless guys, (a guess on my part, I mean who hangs out under a bridge at 3 am besides somebody homeless? Although I guess they could have been trolls. Anyway...) they surround him and try to corner him. He picked up a brick and beaned one of them in the head. The other one, figuring the benefit to risk ratio had just dramatically tipped, took off running. The guy who took the brick to the head was busy nursing his wounds and my son made a hasty retreat while the getting was good.

My son has promised not to walk home alone again and preferrably not to walk at all. I think he was just following my strict instructions not to drive after a late night "study session". The world is fraught with danger. Glad to know he can take care of himself.

I'm Made of Rubber, You're Made of Glue

2010-03-25T14:31:00.002-04:00

It’s like a mind bending puzzle. I can’t keep up.

A Republican congressman is saying that a bullet was fired through the window of his campaign office. He also says he has received threatening phone calls but won’t release them because he doesn’t want to incite further violence. You’ll just have to imagine for yourselves how nasty the threat was.

The CNN article reads: He also accused Democratic National Committee Chairman Tim Kaine and Rep. Chris Van Hollen of Maryland -- a member of the Democratic House leadership -- of "fanning the flames" of violence by using threats that have been made against Democratic members "as political weapons." "Enough is enough," Cantor said. "It has to stop."

Let me get this straight, you report that somebody is terrorizing you and then you say it’s the Dems’ fault because their complaints about violent threats against them are fueling the violence flames. Do I have this right?

It’s time for a time-out for the lot of you. I’d like to call for a 48 hour respite from the lunacy. All members of Congress must leave WDC and go home for the next 48 hours and during that time no media coverage of anything to do with anything political will be allowed. Please, I’m begging you.

And that's a bad thing?

2010-03-23T19:49:00.003-04:00

If it weren't so scary it would be fun to see all the Republicans running around bemoaning the health care reform bill and predicting the end of the world. I heard one of them talking about how we are on our way to becoming like a European country. He thinks that's a bad thing? Considering that Europeans are way ahead of us on so many issues I had to go back and re-read his letter to make sure it said R and not D. I don't know about you but I don't find that notion scary, I find it encouraging.

In European countries when you get sick you don't have to worry about how you will pay for it. How comforting that must be, to concentrate on healing and recovery instead of fighting with insurance companies or wondering how much of your life savings will be eaten up because you were unlucky enough to have an accident or God forbid a serious illness. European countries have true universal healthcare. Not this cobbled togehter half ass attempt the Democrats are so proud of. Don't get me wrong, I'll take it. It's a step in the right direction and who knows maybe once people see that their lives won't end we can actually do this thing right.

European countries figured out long before we did that global warming and environmental issues jeapordize our future. They understood that real action was necessary and they took it.  Too bad we're so late to that party. Actually sort of shameful since we are the second biggest producers of CO2 emissions in the world. We just can't seem to inconvenience ourselves by changing our lifestyles.

In Europe they know that family and leisure time is what makes life worth living, not the endless pursuit of the mighty dollar or the latest and greatest gadget. Statutory minimum leave from work (otherwise known as vacation) is commonplace in Europe, typically 4 - 6 weeks. You know how much we have here? NONE, as in ZERO. Hell, even Japan beats us, they have 18 days mandatory vacation and those crazy workaholics actually have a word for when someone works themselves to death. Paid parental leaves are common, sometimes up to a year.

Go ahead and turn us into a European country. I dare you.

I always liked Jimmy Carter. I thought he was a man of integrity. I cast my first vote for him in 1980 at the age of 18. I'd do it again. In a 1979 speech about the energy crisis he said the following.

"One is a path I've warned about tonight, the path that leads to fragmentation and self-interest. Down that road lies a mistaken idea of freedom, the right to grasp for ourselves some advantage over others. That path would be one of constant conflict between narrow interests ending in chaos and immobility. It is a certain route to failure."

Looks like a prophetic genius now doesn't he?   Alas, we weren't ready to hear his message of self sacrifice and his forward thinking ideas of alternative sources of energy. He lost the 1980 election to Reagan and we got eight more years of "give me mine, you go get your own". About time we started getting our priorities straight if you ask me before I'm forced to move to Germany.

You obviously didn't get a rule book.

2010-03-19T22:16:00.002-04:00

So, here I am at Sam's Club. (Yes, I love Sam's Club despite my loathing of WalMart.) So, I decide to buy this really nice North Face jacket for my daughter. Because that's the kind of Mom I am. The color and styling suited her. Plus all the "young kids" these days seem to really like the North Face stuff.

Up walks my husband. "Hey, I'm gonna get this for Miss Erica." I say.

Thinking in his head... (Hmmmm, looks to be about $30.) "OK" says he.

I pick up a book, a few magazines and head to the checkout as non-chalantly as possible. The jacket is a little more than $30 but it's so much simpler if he just thinks what he thinks about the price.

Checkout lady is an older woman, mid 50's is my guess. Certainly old enough to know better than to utter the following phrase to a woman standing there with her husband.... "Wow, pretty pricey for a spring jacket".

Hello??? I think as I mentally knock my knuckles against her forehead trying to see if anybody is home. What the hell are you thinking? OK, maybe he didn't hear her.

No such luck. "What? How much is it?"

Great! Woman, you are either so spiteful and mean that you did that on purpose or you've never been married.

Now, it really wasn't that big of a deal. I work, I can afford to buy my daughter a jacket if I'm so inclined. Things just go much smoother when I don't have to explain the whole "North Face" thing making the jacket a little more expensive than your ordinary run of the mill jacket. He's the practical, frugal one. I'm the splurger. We each know that. It's part of the spice of our marriage.

So now we engage in some grumbling which moves into witty banter and all is good in the end. But that's not the point. The point is nobody clued this woman in on the rules. You don't sell a sister out like that. Just ring my shit up and keep your commentary about my spending habits to yourself.

The Written Word Shouldn't Vanish

2010-03-16T13:10:00.003-04:00

I really want one of those electronic book gadgets. They seem so cool and futuristic. On top of the nerdy, Star Trek appeal, there are some very practical reasons I want one.

I am running out of room for my books. I could buy more bookshelves but that would just be one more piece of furniture to dust. I only re-read my favorites so there really is no reason for me to keep stacks and stacks of books around.

Think of all the trees being saved by these electronic books. Libraries are even using them with download stations for you to update your reader with a “borrowed” electronic book.

I’ll be able to switch back and forth between books without carrying them around with me everywhere. I'll save money because I won't be buying books until I'm ready to read them and I think that you can return a book within a certain timeframe if you don't like it. I've bought so many books that ended up being duds.

My reasons for not getting one are all emotional.

The electronic page has no substance, no heft, it doesn’t feel like it’s really there. I like the feel of books, the smell of them. I like it when the publisher chooses a really good paper and font. I like to hold the really good ones in my hands for a minute or two after finishing the last page. Satisfied but sad that it's over.

I like seeing a book lying around the house in different spots as it’s being read. I like the pressure my unread book stack puts on me. I like to gaze at old favorites on the bookshelf and remember how the story made me feel.

No more sharing. Part of the fun of a good book is passing it along to someone else. I won’t be able to loan my reader out so it will be harder to create that bond that gets formed when you and somebody else both read a really good book.

How is an electronic device going to manage all that?

Bonnie's Hat

2010-03-11T12:44:00.001-05:00

You be the judge.

She just threw this one in to confuse me.

I think it looks great. And you're right Bonnie - I do want it.

I still have time.

2010-03-05T22:59:00.004-05:00

It's performance review time. All the tell-tale signs are there.  Employees who think way too highly of themselves are threatening to leave unless they get what they think they deserve. This year its a little more of a restless grumble, what with Michigan being in such serious financial straits, but threats nonetheless.

Another sign, borderline employees have turned it up a notch in hopes that this last month of acceptable performance will wipe out the so-so performance that preceeded it. If they knew how transparent it is they wouldn't bother.

I'm not talking about the big goal achievement push during the last quarter. That's usually just time slipping away from people.  I'm talking about people who knowingly put in mediocre effort and then step it up in hopes of getting some sort of merit increase.

You hear things like... "Just keeping you informed like you asked me to do.". Or, "Let me summarize that and send it in an email." You can just picture them pulling out their mid-year reviews.  Reading the advice they were given to do just those things. Smacking their foreheads and saying "Oh shit!".   You know they haven't looked at that review in the six months since they met with their manager.  They've also ignored the verbal reminders in between. But now this review is going to get a number on it.   A very important number.

Performance reviews are about measuring performance against expectations and working to maximize their performance.  It's a win-win with challenging work asisgnments, promotions, bonuses and raises for employees and good results for the company. Which in turn allows them to reward and recognize their valuable employees.  It's like the business version of the Circle of Life. Everybody is happy.

Some of them don't get it though. They think performance review is a process intended solely to spit out a number that gets them either a good or bad raise. They don't see the connection between their actions all year long and that number. These are the ones that put in the eleventh hour effort.

Oh those people in the background you see? The ones continuing on with their hard work and dedication while the moaners and complainers moan and complain? Those are the good employees. The ones that give the same performance level all twelve months of the year. They take pride in their work and naturally seek to learn, grow and contribute. Good companies see, recognize and reward that. They aren't intimidated by the whiners and they aren't fooled by the last minute Marthas.

Breaking News

2010-03-02T12:42:00.002-05:00

I got multiple, excited, text messages from my cousin Bonnie last night. She has, after years and years of searching, found a hat that looks good on her. This may seem trivial to all of you but let me tell you that it was something we all thought would never happen.   Watching Bonnie try on hats is one of the highlights of any trip to the mall. She just can't pull it off. It's really sort of sad. It's the shape of her head or something.

So, what was this hat? A wide brimmed straw hat? A beret? A cap? No, no and no. She reports that it's a German mountaineering hat, complete with pheasant plumes. Hahahahahaha.   I'll believe it when I see it.

In other news.... Went out to dinner with the husband and son. As we were driving back I got three phone calls to my cell, listing my home number on the caller ID. Nobody was home! We were all in the car. Every time I picked the phone up all I heard was silence.   It was freaking me out. Who was in my house and why were they calling me?

Finally my sister called me. She had been making the calls from her house using an IPhone app on her daughter's phone called "Bluff my Call". You change your caller ID number to any one you want. I have tried and tried to think of a constructive, useful purpose for this app. All I can come up with are evil and devious uses.

And finally this. The sun has indeed returned to Michigan. Can good moods and fresh perspectives be far behind?

Be Careful

2010-02-23T18:54:00.002-05:00

The fact that most Winter Olympics events are conducted on ice and snow makes them significantly more dangerous than the summer Olympics. Anybody who has ever put on a pair of ice skates or plummeted down the side of a mountain on skis knows that. The unfortunate death of the young Georgian luger just as the games started was grim proof that one wrong move can end in tragedy.

Hearing about his death was sad. Even worse, seeing it after NBC made the bonehead decision to air the crash footage. You have to hope they were just incredibly stupid and insensitive and not motivated by greed. Who didn’t immediately think about his poor family and friends being subjected to seeing that?

This year I have watched each event with a newfound respect for the danger these athletes put themselves in to pursue their dreams. On the night that Lindsey Vonn won her first gold I watched as one after another of the competitors fell and crashed down the hill. Their training must include lessons on how to fall in order to avoid serious injury. They seemed like rag dolls with flailing arms and legs, banging their helmeted heads against the mountain. Yet each time, at the end of their seemingly endless falls, they got up and limped off the mountain with what appeared to be minor injuries.

Speed skating. There's another scary sport. Racing around a track of sheer ice with sharp blades attached to your feet. The short track is even worse with competitors vying for position by nudging, tapping and sometimes just plain pushing each other out of the way. You may believe that figure skating is not a serious endeavor, but every jump can potentially end with a broken bone or a concussion. Not to mention those breathtaking lifts. Those girls could so easily slip and come crashing down on the ice. I could go on and on.... ski jumping, snowboarding, bobsled (when did they start calling it bobsleigh?).

Every now and then we get a break from the tension with some of the less dangerous sports. Hockey, which IS dangerous but these guys make it look like child's play. They are used to getting stitched up between periods and then going back out there for more punishment. Curling isn't very dangerous, unless you happen to drop one of the stones on your foot. Cross country skiing is also a relatively safe choice. Except for the event where they strap rifles to their backs and head off to shoot at targets.

I wish all the competitors luck. But most of all I hope the remainder of the games are safe and nobody else gets hurt.

Skin deep

2010-02-18T18:48:00.001-05:00

During the middle of the day dermatology offices are filled with very old people with band-aids on their faces, hiding what one can only assume are the wounds from having some growth removed. They wait patiently and watch Ellen on the TV in the corner.

Scattered in among them is a smattering of middle aged women. They are visiting for their latest BOTOX treatment or maybe for a prescription to grow thicker and fuller eyelashes or some other vanity inspired consult. That is a wild ass assumption that I base on the following observations:

a) how they were dressed,
b) how they appeared to be more impatient than worried and
c) how uncomfortable they were sitting in the waiting room with the band-aid senior league. I think the seniors reminded them that they are waging a losing battle against the ravages of time.

I don’t like Doctors in general. Few of them have good people skills and they usually have some sort of God complex going on. It was my first time to this office. Alarms went off as soon as I noticed the large number of support staff in the office area. There had to to be about 10 of them for a three doctor practice. They were all female, thin and attractive. Each one of them was wearing white from head to toe, as if the colorful medical garb you routinely see had been banned. I think they were going for a sterile, professional look. It was actually just creepy, sort of like a medical harem or an army of Stepford-like automatons.

What was I doing there? Well, you get a few suspicious moles you think maybe you should go see the Doctor. You know, catching it early and such. Turns out my “moles” are nothing to worry about. The one on my breastbone is an ugly, white cyst and having it removed will create a scar 3x bigger. I will have to live with it.

Cyst is an ugly word. I'm toying with the idea of painting it with an iris, pupil and some lashes to look like a third eye on my chest, just to freak people out. The mole on my left shoulder blade that occasionally gets all dry and itchy (very un-mole like in my opinion, moles should just sit there and behave) is also nothing to worry about according to the Doctor.

The actual time spent with the Doctor and his PA was brief and insulting. He looked like Max Headroom with horned rim glasses. They both acted as if I was a nitwit for wanting to have my "obviously OK" moles checked out.

In a very condescending tone.... "Well moles get dry and itchy like any other part of the skin. Do you moisturize your back?" Um no, I can't reach my back, do I look like a contortionist? And my husband has better things to do than to slather me with moisturinzing lotion.

"Well, just keep an eye on it and come back if it changes. Do you have somebody to check it for you?" This was said in a sort of pitying way. I think the wedding ring I don't wear made them think I was some sort of sad, lonely spinster with nobody to assess her moles. What would they have said if I had said no? Suggest I get one of those dogs that can sniff out cancer?

To solidify my dislike for this Doctor, as I was walking out I passed by him flirting with a Pharmaceutical Sales Twit. She was blond and giggly. Informing him in a very suggestive voice that she had a "surprise" for him. I made a hasty retreat before I could hear his response. It was like watching soft porn.

Why does your suitcase smell like fish?

2010-02-16T12:48:00.006-05:00

I am not allowed to get sick this year. I have scheduled all my vacation days for the year and am left with one and a half days to be used for sick time, doggy emergencies, flooding basements, etc. All my doctor, dentist and beautician appointments will be scheduled for late afternoon or weekend.

The holidays will break up the tedium of working and waiting for vacation. We are currently in the middle of the longest Holiday dry spell of the year… MLKJ Day to Good Friday is a long ten weeks. After that the holidays average about one every 7 weeks or so. You can tell I've analyzed this way too much.

In May the husband and I will be spending five days in Las Vegas. We are sharing a suite at the Mirage with some friends who really know how to have a good time. I am predicting that my first day back to work after this trip will be rough but well worth it. Maybe I will hit the big jackpot out there and then I won't even have to come back.

In August we will be traveling to Germany and Norway for two weeks. Code name - Operation Fjord. I made a promise to my Mom as she went into surgery this past year that if she made it we would all go to Norway. You can’t break “Near Death Bed” promises, so off we go to what is one of the most expensive countries in Europe.

I got a really good deal on our tickets. To get this great price we will have a 10 hour layover in Iceland both there and back, but that’s worth $500 a person in my book. With the money I saved I may be able to purchase each of us a Norwegian sweater, if I shop carefully. I have been doing some souvenir research and those sweaters may as well be knitted with Jason's mythical golden fleece.

Other possible souvenirs include:

A troll. Norway is famous for its trolls. Not sure why, but I hope to learn when I'm there.

Horned Viking helmets. I will probably mount one on the wall next to the sombrero we got in Cozumel and create a sort of "Hats of the World" display.

Smoked Salmon - You can't bring meat back but you can bring back all the smoked fish you can carry.

Funky brown Norwegian cheese - It's called Brunost and looks very unappetizing but is very affordable. Cheese all around.

Finally I have to stop at the Oslo Hardrock Cafe to add to my shotglass collection. At this point in the trip I will probably be ready for some good old American, artery clogging, fried food so I will be able to kill two birds with one stone.

So I will be taking all the necessary precautions. I will drink lots of OJ and carry hand sanitizer with me wherever I go. I will also be leaving any room occupied by anybody with an obvious contagious ailment. Nothing personal.

The "S" stands for Safety Girl

2010-02-09T12:41:00.003-05:00

An old friend from elementary school days reminded me about something that I had totally forgotten. When I was in the fifth or sixth grade I applied to be a safety boy. I think I was the first girl to do it. A girl standing guard at the crosswalks was unheard of back then. But the time was ripe for a gender revolution among the ranks of the Tinkham Elementary Safeties. Bras were being burned. Bacon was being earned and fried up in a pan.

They let us join and gave us our orange patrol belts. Those belts, for the record, are the stupidest contraptions. Difficult to put on and adjust. A vest would have been much more practical and visible. I got the post at the street right in front of the school.

This friend seems to have romanticized it a bit. She used the word "advocated". I'm sure I didn't advocate anything back in those days. Except maybe for twinkies in my lunch bag. It was really just my desire to spend a few extra minutes every day away from the classroom.

They had to start calling us safety patrols after that instead of safety boys.

Cheaters Never Win - Except in FB Scrabble

2010-02-06T15:29:00.004-05:00

I've about had it with all the Facebook Scrabble cheats out there. How do I know they're cheating? Piroque.... that's how I know. That happens to be a canoe made from a hollowed out log. Never heard it before? Me either. Oh and neither has Merriam-Webster, Dictionary.com or Encarta. Yet I'm supposed to believe that my FB Scrabble opponent not only knew this word but also knew exactly where to place it on the board for like a gazillion points.

I'm not a sore loser, well actually I am, but that's beside the point. How can it be satisfying to win at Scrabble when all you did was plop your letters into a cheat program that spit the solution out for you? You didn't beat your opponent, your computer did.

Here's a list of some pretty obscure words played in my scrabble games. Notice the q's, j's and x's. Those are the moneymaker letters. Play those right and you can crush your opponent. I have written these words down and if given the chance I will play them.

narial, skirr, quadriga, quipu, jarrah, xylem, xyloid, macron

I've done some research on Scrabble cheating. I've discovered quite a few sites that could be very helpful during my next tough match. Now comes the internal struggle of whether to join their ranks or continue to get my ass handed to me over and over again by these blatant cheaters.

Maybe I just suck... that could be a possibility. Nah.

PS - Add "thinclads" to the list.. just got played by my opponent. Arrrrgghhhh.

Trial by Error

2010-01-31T15:00:00.006-05:00

Things I've Learned the Hard Way

Ignoring problems does not make them go away. This is also true for toothaches.
Water, ice and skin do not mix.
Make sure the phone is hung up before you make a smartass comment about the conversation you just had. (Don't even pretend you don't talk bad about other people.)
You can't please everybody. Hell, you can't even please most people.
Keep both eyes open when shaving your legs. You need the depth perception.
Dogs don't live nearly as long as they should. They should live as long as we do so that we won't have to say goodbye.
Your advice is usally not wanted, even when it's asked for.
Never talk bad about somebody's ex. They usually end up with them again and it makes your "I always thought he was a dickhead." comment hard to explain away.
Humility is the key to learning.

Things I Will Never Learn Even Though I Should Have By Now

How to bake biscuits without burning them.
How to not wait until the last minute to get things done.
Cleaning as you go makes housework easier.
Don't ask questions you don't want truthfully answered.
Opening letters with your fingers instead of a letter opener leads to paper cuts.
Buying perishables in bulk is not a good idea.
Nobody cares that I won the Adams Jr. High School Spelling Bee back in 1974. I have the engraved dictionary to prove it.... but.... you don't really care, do you? Sigh.

How'd you find me after all these years?

2010-01-26T13:20:00.004-05:00

I got a facebook friend request from an old boyfriend. Not the grade school version. “I like you. Do you like me too? Circle One - YES or NO.” I’m talking first serious, adult relationship kind of boyfriend. A “move out of the house and live in an apartment together” old boyfriend. Came out of the blue after over 25 years of no contact. All thanks to the World Wide WTF am I gonna do now?

You ever have one of those moments when you stop and take stock of your life? Our break up was one of those moments for me. I took it as an opportunity to do a complete about face on a lot of things in my life. I started taking college more seriously. I stopped all drug use. I cut ties with anybody that I thought was headed for trouble in the future, which included nearly all my friends. I even stopped using the nickname Chris and asked people to start calling me by my full name as a reminder that I was a whole new person.

What did I do about the friend request? It seemed rude to ignore somebody you spent four years of your life with. He was my first love. He and I had some good times together. Bad times too, but I won't go into details. Plus, I was just plain curious about how he's been and what he's been up to all these years.

I accepted his friend request. We exchanged a few emails back and forth. He's doing fine. I'm doing fine. All very anticlimactic. The unexpected bonus is that it's made me see my husband for what he is. The man I chose to be with for the rest of my life. It was a good decision.