Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Things that Reproduce When You Aren't Looking
Based on my personal experience, following is my list of the top 10 items that reproduce when I'm not looking:
1. Spare change in the bottom of my purse
2. Wire hangers from the dry cleaners
3. Laundry (dirty)
4. Britney Spears
5. Unread/Unanswered E-mails (work account)
6. Undeleted Junk E-mails (personal account)
7. Coupons for Restaurants I Will Never Visit
8. Laundry (clean, needs folding)
9. Stray Cats at the Back Door (after you give in ONE time and set out some tuna...)
10. Small Items that Nevertheless Make My Rolling Laptop Bag Even Heavier
On a completely unrelated note, I believe that Coach Leathergoods is coming after me directly - not sure if this is an attempt to control my thoughts, but really...how would they know that I collect snowmen and Santas, or that I carry one of my red Coach bags during the winter? How?
1. Spare change in the bottom of my purse
2. Wire hangers from the dry cleaners
3. Laundry (dirty)
4. Britney Spears
5. Unread/Unanswered E-mails (work account)
6. Undeleted Junk E-mails (personal account)
7. Coupons for Restaurants I Will Never Visit
8. Laundry (clean, needs folding)
9. Stray Cats at the Back Door (after you give in ONE time and set out some tuna...)
10. Small Items that Nevertheless Make My Rolling Laptop Bag Even Heavier
On a completely unrelated note, I believe that Coach Leathergoods is coming after me directly - not sure if this is an attempt to control my thoughts, but really...how would they know that I collect snowmen and Santas, or that I carry one of my red Coach bags during the winter? How?
Saturday, December 15, 2007
So Tonight Thank God it's Them Instead of You
We got our power back last night and are among the very, very fortunate.
http://www.tulsaworld.com/webextra/content/2007/icestorm07/default.aspx
As of right now, there are 92,000 PSO customers who are without power. A "customer" is the name on the bill, and doesn't account for all of those living within the home, or affected by the closure of a business - for many, lost time equals lost pay.
Go here if you want to help one of those who are still without lights, warmth, food, or the ability to sleep in their own beds at Christmastime:
http://www.salvationarmytulsa.org/emergencyservices.asp
Think I'm being sanctimonious? That's OK. Give me a call and we'll talk about it.
Merry Christmas!
http://www.tulsaworld.com/webextra/content/2007/icestorm07/default.aspx
As of right now, there are 92,000 PSO customers who are without power. A "customer" is the name on the bill, and doesn't account for all of those living within the home, or affected by the closure of a business - for many, lost time equals lost pay.
Go here if you want to help one of those who are still without lights, warmth, food, or the ability to sleep in their own beds at Christmastime:
http://www.salvationarmytulsa.org/emergencyservices.asp
Think I'm being sanctimonious? That's OK. Give me a call and we'll talk about it.
Merry Christmas!
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Movie Review
If you have the time and inclination, I highly recommend going to see "The Mist". This movie is adapted from a novella by my favorite author, Stephen King. Overall, the movie stays true to the story, up until the end. Literally. It's not particularly frightening, however, it is extremely disturbing at a couple of points, and kind of gory. In the last 3.5 years, I have seen exactly 2 movies in the theater - I fell asleep halfway through the first one (Bourne Ultimatum). I did NOT fall asleep during this movie, and I guarantee you won't, either.
I do not recommend going to see this movie at Promenade Mall on a Saturday evening, when the patrons seem 1. unaware that this movie is not a comedy, 2. oblivious to the fact that their conversations tend to drown out dialogue, and 3. defensive when a mouthy white girl states upon finding said patrons talking in a group outside the theater door "it's amazing they still have anything to discuss since they couldn't shut the FUCK up during the movie". (Note to self - bravery is good, self preservation should be considered.)
Here's the rant: When I decide to watch a movie, either at home or in the theater, suspension of reality is key. Observations regarding character development, plot, similarities in decorating style to one's own, movie star exploits, events of the day, upcoming restroom visits, etc. are neither needed nor desired. In these situations, I first ignore the offending party and stare ahead at the screen without responding. Next follows a slight glare. If the talker is a person I know, I generally respond with "hmm" or "disgusted sigh". In the theater, I am a shusher, loud sigh-er, and a "shut the fuck up" mutterer to those I don't know - the cover of darkness and the shield of righteous indignation fuel my rage. Dave and I are of the same mind on this - we will pick up the remote at our own home or that of others, stop a movie, and look pointedly at the offending party. I once had a friend named Anne who would simply hold up a finger, point it at the screen, and say "show" - it was highly effective.
In other news, Three Year Old is pretty much potty-trained, and he got it down in less than a week. We are the very proud parents of a super handsome, smart, and grown up little guy. Also, for the first time in the history of civilization, my mother and I both plan to vote for the same presidential candidate. By my count, that's TWO Christmas miracles.
I do not recommend going to see this movie at Promenade Mall on a Saturday evening, when the patrons seem 1. unaware that this movie is not a comedy, 2. oblivious to the fact that their conversations tend to drown out dialogue, and 3. defensive when a mouthy white girl states upon finding said patrons talking in a group outside the theater door "it's amazing they still have anything to discuss since they couldn't shut the FUCK up during the movie". (Note to self - bravery is good, self preservation should be considered.)
Here's the rant: When I decide to watch a movie, either at home or in the theater, suspension of reality is key. Observations regarding character development, plot, similarities in decorating style to one's own, movie star exploits, events of the day, upcoming restroom visits, etc. are neither needed nor desired. In these situations, I first ignore the offending party and stare ahead at the screen without responding. Next follows a slight glare. If the talker is a person I know, I generally respond with "hmm" or "disgusted sigh". In the theater, I am a shusher, loud sigh-er, and a "shut the fuck up" mutterer to those I don't know - the cover of darkness and the shield of righteous indignation fuel my rage. Dave and I are of the same mind on this - we will pick up the remote at our own home or that of others, stop a movie, and look pointedly at the offending party. I once had a friend named Anne who would simply hold up a finger, point it at the screen, and say "show" - it was highly effective.
In other news, Three Year Old is pretty much potty-trained, and he got it down in less than a week. We are the very proud parents of a super handsome, smart, and grown up little guy. Also, for the first time in the history of civilization, my mother and I both plan to vote for the same presidential candidate. By my count, that's TWO Christmas miracles.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Owl Be Happy With That...
On this long and wonderful Thanksgiving weekend, we enjoyed a traditional Sunday afternoon feast of wings and fries at Hooters. This doesn't bother me at all. If anything, I'm relieved by visits to Hooters. I'm far too old to worry about competing with the staff (please), and it's refreshing to know that absolutely no one is looking at how many wings I'm eating, or how many fries I'm stealing off Three Year Old's plate. Yes, he was there, too. He likes the Owl Store. I would like any restaurant where they bring me treats for finishing all of my food, too. And, bringing a little boy to Hooters is like having free child care - hey, today's kid is tomorrow's Monday Night Football customer.
So, he gets a little package of crayons and a nifty placemat with pictures to color. I can't recall all of the pictures, there may have been a dinosaur or a bird or some bullshit like that to draw attention away from the three HOOTERS GIRLS for aspiring breast men to color. There's the volleyball girl, with a gigantic rack and washboard stomach. There's the tennis girl, with a gigantic rack and washboard stomach, and (don't say you didn't see this coming) the coup de grace - the cheerleader girl with the winning smile, flat stomach, and a rack you could see from space. I find this very funny, and point it out to Dave, who was also amused. Three Year Old asked me several times what color my shoes were, and I kept repeating that they were black - I was distracted by hunger and the pretty pictures of food in the menu. Finally, Three Year Old, who has figured out that I'm not following, says "Mommy! What color do you WANT your shoes to be? I have green and blue for shoes." I look over, still confused, since he is coloring the picture of the cheerleader. Dave asks Three Year Old, "Who is that a picture of?" and the response from my son who is beautiful, smart, charming, and intelligent says "That's a picture of Mommy."
Suddenly, the prospect of getting wing sauce under my new solarnail fills didn't worry me so much. For just a moment, I had a winning smile, a flat stomach, and a rack you could see from space.
The cheerleader outfit would have to go.
So, he gets a little package of crayons and a nifty placemat with pictures to color. I can't recall all of the pictures, there may have been a dinosaur or a bird or some bullshit like that to draw attention away from the three HOOTERS GIRLS for aspiring breast men to color. There's the volleyball girl, with a gigantic rack and washboard stomach. There's the tennis girl, with a gigantic rack and washboard stomach, and (don't say you didn't see this coming) the coup de grace - the cheerleader girl with the winning smile, flat stomach, and a rack you could see from space. I find this very funny, and point it out to Dave, who was also amused. Three Year Old asked me several times what color my shoes were, and I kept repeating that they were black - I was distracted by hunger and the pretty pictures of food in the menu. Finally, Three Year Old, who has figured out that I'm not following, says "Mommy! What color do you WANT your shoes to be? I have green and blue for shoes." I look over, still confused, since he is coloring the picture of the cheerleader. Dave asks Three Year Old, "Who is that a picture of?" and the response from my son who is beautiful, smart, charming, and intelligent says "That's a picture of Mommy."
Suddenly, the prospect of getting wing sauce under my new solarnail fills didn't worry me so much. For just a moment, I had a winning smile, a flat stomach, and a rack you could see from space.
The cheerleader outfit would have to go.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Don't Look a Gift Woody in the Mouth
Strange goings-on at our house.
Per my last post, Woody was MIA. Last night and this morning we *tore*the*house*and*garage*and*cars*apart looking for Woody. Just as Dave was heading out to buy a replacement Woody during Three Year Old's nap, I checked one last time in a bag we had emptied out three times.
Woody was sitting right on top.
There are two explanations for this - the first being that Woody was there all along, and we didn't see him. This, dear readers, is not possible. The second explanation is that Woody had a big night out, meeting with cowgirls at the Caravan and letting them pull his...string, then came back home and waited in a very unlikely place to be found.
Quite frankly, it's creeping me out a little bit.
But, if Woody is indeed capable of moving about on his own volition, like in the movie, he is obviously a benign sort of possessed toy, as he hasn't attempted to kill us in our sleep or anything...yet.
Have I mentioned that one of my greatest fears is dolls that talk? Thank you, Rod Serling's "Twiglight Zone".
As my Dad said, it's probably best not to examine this too closely...just be glad that Woody is home, and don't look a gift Woody in the mouth.
Per my last post, Woody was MIA. Last night and this morning we *tore*the*house*and*garage*and*cars*apart looking for Woody. Just as Dave was heading out to buy a replacement Woody during Three Year Old's nap, I checked one last time in a bag we had emptied out three times.
Woody was sitting right on top.
There are two explanations for this - the first being that Woody was there all along, and we didn't see him. This, dear readers, is not possible. The second explanation is that Woody had a big night out, meeting with cowgirls at the Caravan and letting them pull his...string, then came back home and waited in a very unlikely place to be found.
Quite frankly, it's creeping me out a little bit.
But, if Woody is indeed capable of moving about on his own volition, like in the movie, he is obviously a benign sort of possessed toy, as he hasn't attempted to kill us in our sleep or anything...yet.
Have I mentioned that one of my greatest fears is dolls that talk? Thank you, Rod Serling's "Twiglight Zone".
As my Dad said, it's probably best not to examine this too closely...just be glad that Woody is home, and don't look a gift Woody in the mouth.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Have You Seen This Woody?
The house is in an uproar. Sheriff Woody is MIA. Out of the 6546168546316 toys that Three Year Old has to play with, he will only be satisfied with Sheriff Woody. To be specific, there are two Woodys in the house - Big Woody and Little Woody. Little Woody is missing. A manhunt is in effect, and an APB has been issued.
Please keep your eyes open for any Woodys, and contact me immediately if you find a Woody hanging out where he shouldn't be. Woody can usually be found in the bedroom, but sometimes is spotted in the living room, and very occasionally in the car. Identifying marks on Woody include a flexible body, a hard head, and a hat that he wears from time to time.
If you get the impression that I'm having fun with this, I'm not. I won't be able to sleep until I find that Woody.
Please keep your eyes open for any Woodys, and contact me immediately if you find a Woody hanging out where he shouldn't be. Woody can usually be found in the bedroom, but sometimes is spotted in the living room, and very occasionally in the car. Identifying marks on Woody include a flexible body, a hard head, and a hat that he wears from time to time.
If you get the impression that I'm having fun with this, I'm not. I won't be able to sleep until I find that Woody.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Turning Over a New Leaflet
In an effort to become more frugal and save up money to buy a house, I've started clipping coupons. Does anyone know of websites that are good for useful coupons? I'm looking for primarily grocery store type offers...
Thanks!!!
Thanks!!!
Saturday, November 10, 2007
They Have no Soul
In an effort to refrain from posting unless I actually have something interesting to say, my entries have dwindled significantly. Operating under the assumption that there is a general lack of interest in how busy I am at work and why, which household duties I have neglected and why, I've been trying to come up with some topic that would be at least slightly interesting.
So, here's the story - Friday nights are family movie nights at our house. Eat dinner, blankets in the floor, watch a movie selected by me or Dave. The last part here is critical - WE pick the movie. In an effort to introduce Three Year Old to the classics of family movies, we've been watching the Disney greats - Robin Hood, Peter Pan, Jungle Book - and he loves them.
Plus, there's no way we're dedicating an evening to watching another episode of Dora, Diego, Little Bear, regular Bear, Wiggles, or Wow Wow Fucking Wubbzy.
Last night, we go out for pizza (critical mistake #1), and tell Three Year Old that we are going to watch Pinocchio when we get home (critical mistake #2). Leave the house, drop by the very large video store chain that has eliminated all competition - no Pinocchio. Huh. Strange. Not to be deterred, head out to brief and harrowing pizza experience. Swing by megalomart to pick up Pinocchio - not there. Odd. Drive over to other megahuge electronics store - Pinocchio is MIA.
And now it's a personal challenge. Plus, please see above re: critical mistake #2. Three Year Old now has heart set on viewing the movie we have described in such rich detail. Shit.
At this point, I'm beginning to think there is a conspiracy to ruin the night I look forward to most in the whole week. Briefly consider the fact that I'm being punished because I'm planning to spend money at megahugebigboxstores, comfort self with fact that my preferred locally owned businesses closed an hour ago. My lack of planning surely would not have had this kind of karmic effect.
Go to bigfuckingwarehousestore, talking on cell phone to rep from other megahuge electronics store - two birds, one stone, right? Hopes dashed as I find no Pinocchio on the shelves of the bigfuckingwarehousestore. Rep from other megahuge electronics store explains to me that the reason I can't find this movie is that Disney put it "in the vault". I ask how much money it would take to get it out. She is very kind, and explains to me the concept of the Disney vault, and how it's particularly frustrating to parents who are trying to introduce their kids to their favorite movies from childhood. She's sympathetic, suggests eBay, and wishes me luck.
You can't even RENT the damn things. Guess what Three Year Old asked to see this morning?
I will be going back to Orlando in January, and plan to stage a coup in order to try and get the vault opened. While I may not be steeped in wealth, I have a vast amount of untapped rage that might be useful.
Please start saving now for my bail money.
So, here's the story - Friday nights are family movie nights at our house. Eat dinner, blankets in the floor, watch a movie selected by me or Dave. The last part here is critical - WE pick the movie. In an effort to introduce Three Year Old to the classics of family movies, we've been watching the Disney greats - Robin Hood, Peter Pan, Jungle Book - and he loves them.
Plus, there's no way we're dedicating an evening to watching another episode of Dora, Diego, Little Bear, regular Bear, Wiggles, or Wow Wow Fucking Wubbzy.
Last night, we go out for pizza (critical mistake #1), and tell Three Year Old that we are going to watch Pinocchio when we get home (critical mistake #2). Leave the house, drop by the very large video store chain that has eliminated all competition - no Pinocchio. Huh. Strange. Not to be deterred, head out to brief and harrowing pizza experience. Swing by megalomart to pick up Pinocchio - not there. Odd. Drive over to other megahuge electronics store - Pinocchio is MIA.
And now it's a personal challenge. Plus, please see above re: critical mistake #2. Three Year Old now has heart set on viewing the movie we have described in such rich detail. Shit.
At this point, I'm beginning to think there is a conspiracy to ruin the night I look forward to most in the whole week. Briefly consider the fact that I'm being punished because I'm planning to spend money at megahugebigboxstores, comfort self with fact that my preferred locally owned businesses closed an hour ago. My lack of planning surely would not have had this kind of karmic effect.
Go to bigfuckingwarehousestore, talking on cell phone to rep from other megahuge electronics store - two birds, one stone, right? Hopes dashed as I find no Pinocchio on the shelves of the bigfuckingwarehousestore. Rep from other megahuge electronics store explains to me that the reason I can't find this movie is that Disney put it "in the vault". I ask how much money it would take to get it out. She is very kind, and explains to me the concept of the Disney vault, and how it's particularly frustrating to parents who are trying to introduce their kids to their favorite movies from childhood. She's sympathetic, suggests eBay, and wishes me luck.
You can't even RENT the damn things. Guess what Three Year Old asked to see this morning?
I will be going back to Orlando in January, and plan to stage a coup in order to try and get the vault opened. While I may not be steeped in wealth, I have a vast amount of untapped rage that might be useful.
Please start saving now for my bail money.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Outstanding
This time last week Dave and I were pulling into Kansas City on our first vacation in NINE YEARS. The reason for this celebration? Our tenth wedding anniversary! We spent two nights in Overland Park, and we went to the Plaza, Union Station, Downtown, Westport...it was so great and now I want to move. I want to live in the Plaza and work at Mecca (it's called the Coach store, but hey).
Back in reality, the 3rd quarter results for my company came out today. My friend and coworker Jennifer, who lives in Dayton and is an all around better person than I am, was giving me the high points, since she had actually taken the time to review the documents for tomorrow's conference call. She paused and asked, "do you know we have an account called Fresh and Easy?" At this point, we both realized that the question was not why we had an account with this name, but rather, why we weren't assigned to that account. Imagine how one might answer the phone - "Katy, Fresh and Easy!" The business cards, the party introductions...Jennifer and I worked ourselves into a pretty good giggle fest over this. I shared with Jennifer the name of one of Tulsa's most ubiquitous convenience stores (Kum 'n Go), and she told another coworker. This particular coworker had the win for the day, when she shared the name of a liquor store chain in Kentucky - Liquor Quick. Say it fast (and quietly, if you aren't alone).
Finally, if you haven't seen it before, please take a moment to view this.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Bliss!
Last week I received a catalog from Chadwicks. I haven't ordered anything from Chadwicks in 7 years. Apparently, they noticed. The front of my catalog read, "Is this the end, Katy?" and had a coupon for 40% off any item. Fortuitously enough, I am in the market for a new coat, and after perusing their online selections, keeping in mind my budget of $75 or less for said new coat, I found this. With my 40% off coupon, this lovely item will be mine for $41.99, plus superfast shipping. I am now a very happy girl.
If only I could find an 80% off coupon for these.
If only I could find an 80% off coupon for these.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Happy Birthday to Dave!
Today is Dave's birthday! To a wonderful husband and father, handsome and sweet, funny and charming,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
I LOVE YOU MORE!!!
I LOVE YOU MORE!!!
Monday, October 15, 2007
At Least I'm Not the Only One
I am on a first-name relationship with Guilt. We know each other well, have lunch several times a week, and chat before I go to sleep every night. Suffice to say, I look at most situations as an opportunity to call up my hateful friend Guilt so she can tell me how generally wrong I am as a person.
Part of the problem is this - I have a really, really, really sick sense of humor. The things I find very funny aren't the stuff of romantic comedies. Thanks to this smart and beautiful woman, I learned of this website, which I find far more intelligent and entertaining than this could ever hope to be.
So, in an instant messaging conversation the other day, I made an offhand snide comment to a friend about one of our coworkers. As soon as I said this comment, I felt the sharp elbow of Guilt in the base of my skull, accompanied by her hissing whisper in my ear saying "that one's going to cost you". Immediately, I began apologizing to my coworker for saying such a horrible thing, using this instance as an example of how I am unworthy for human contact and should be cast out of society, and that I am no better than another shared acquaintance (who could give lessons to this person). My friend advised me that there are drugs readily available that could help me come to grips with my dysfunctional relationship with guilt. I told her there was no help for me. Then she said something that was a salve to my spirit, and made me laugh so hard that I had a mild seizure:
"Yesterday, I almost backed over an old man in the grocery store parking lot. After I recovered from the shock and shame, I got really pissed at him for getting in my way."
I will treasure this for the rest of my life.
Part of the problem is this - I have a really, really, really sick sense of humor. The things I find very funny aren't the stuff of romantic comedies. Thanks to this smart and beautiful woman, I learned of this website, which I find far more intelligent and entertaining than this could ever hope to be.
So, in an instant messaging conversation the other day, I made an offhand snide comment to a friend about one of our coworkers. As soon as I said this comment, I felt the sharp elbow of Guilt in the base of my skull, accompanied by her hissing whisper in my ear saying "that one's going to cost you". Immediately, I began apologizing to my coworker for saying such a horrible thing, using this instance as an example of how I am unworthy for human contact and should be cast out of society, and that I am no better than another shared acquaintance (who could give lessons to this person). My friend advised me that there are drugs readily available that could help me come to grips with my dysfunctional relationship with guilt. I told her there was no help for me. Then she said something that was a salve to my spirit, and made me laugh so hard that I had a mild seizure:
"Yesterday, I almost backed over an old man in the grocery store parking lot. After I recovered from the shock and shame, I got really pissed at him for getting in my way."
I will treasure this for the rest of my life.
Friday, October 5, 2007
There Just Aren't Words
This week, our friends experienced a horrible loss. Their son, Nathan, died suddenly and unexpectedly. Nathan was ten years old - he was a very funny and kind little guy, and impacted the lives of many people. He will be missed terribly - his absence leaves a hole in our hearts. No words can express the depth of sorrow, or the pain his family is feeling. Losing a loved one is incredibly painful, and the loss of a child is unimaginable. There aren't enough words, not now or ever.
Parenthood is fraught with frustration - the challenges of raising a child are many, and one constantly questions each decision. We plot a course toward the end result of creating a responsible and moral adult out of a totally egocentric being, seeing their personality develop and wondering all along the way what mistakes we are making. We remember every misstep, and forget our successes. There is no finish line, no blue ribbon, only the intangible rewards - and those rewards are so precious, they outweigh every worry that keeps us up all night, and each searing pang of self-doubt. We make plans for the rest of our lives, preparing for when we're gone, fully expecting that we will die long before they do. To think the opposite defies logic, contrasts the natural order of things.
Here is the legacy of Nathan's life and death, for me: there is never enough time, so I will spend it wisely. Everyone has a different perspective, so I'll try to look at things from new angles. Tomorrow will get here soon enough, so I'll lose focus of the end result, and enjoy what's there right now.
Life is sometimes so tragically short.
Parenthood is fraught with frustration - the challenges of raising a child are many, and one constantly questions each decision. We plot a course toward the end result of creating a responsible and moral adult out of a totally egocentric being, seeing their personality develop and wondering all along the way what mistakes we are making. We remember every misstep, and forget our successes. There is no finish line, no blue ribbon, only the intangible rewards - and those rewards are so precious, they outweigh every worry that keeps us up all night, and each searing pang of self-doubt. We make plans for the rest of our lives, preparing for when we're gone, fully expecting that we will die long before they do. To think the opposite defies logic, contrasts the natural order of things.
Here is the legacy of Nathan's life and death, for me: there is never enough time, so I will spend it wisely. Everyone has a different perspective, so I'll try to look at things from new angles. Tomorrow will get here soon enough, so I'll lose focus of the end result, and enjoy what's there right now.
Life is sometimes so tragically short.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Shouting Out
HAPPY BIRTHDAY JoRo!!! We love you and miss you!!!
Unexpected reward from checking out the website of a Three Year Old's favorite musician - hearing an emerging artist who is just too awesome for words. Her name is Charlie Faye, she's moved to Austin from New York City, so the odds are much better that I will be able to see her in concert. The Tour of Texas trip is still in the planning stages, and Austin is *definitely* one of the cities we will be visiting, to see our friends S.A.S. and Mosalish and S-bling-bling.
So, here's the link - go there and listen to "The Last Kids in the Bar", at least - I promise you will NOT regret it:
www.charliefaye.com
Unexpected reward from checking out the website of a Three Year Old's favorite musician - hearing an emerging artist who is just too awesome for words. Her name is Charlie Faye, she's moved to Austin from New York City, so the odds are much better that I will be able to see her in concert. The Tour of Texas trip is still in the planning stages, and Austin is *definitely* one of the cities we will be visiting, to see our friends S.A.S. and Mosalish and S-bling-bling.
So, here's the link - go there and listen to "The Last Kids in the Bar", at least - I promise you will NOT regret it:
www.charliefaye.com
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Cluttered House on the Prairie
When I was a little girl, I read all of the "Little House on the Prairie" books, and longed to be exactly like Laura Ingalls Wilder. All things Laura were what I decided to be. I wore my very long hair in braids. When I bought 3 cent grape bubble gum at Skaggs Alpha Beta, I pretended it was penny horehound (even though I didn't know what horehound candy was). During the early 80's, it wasn't that hard to pretend to be Laura - there were only a certain number of TV channels, and cloth dolls and long dresses were in easy supply. I clearly remember telling my mother that instead of my regular allowance, which was up to $4 per week depending on the chores I completed, I wished instead to max out at 50 cents. This was a king's ransom to Laura, and I thought that I should live as she did, in order to make the cloning process complete. Mom gently explained the concept of inflation to me, and advised that I not make it a practice of asking for pay cuts in the future. She used words like responsibility and reward, and advised that Laura didn't use electricity either, so I might want to choose carefully where I decided to align my situation with that of the Ingalls'.
The one area of my life that has never aligned with Laura's is the arena of material possessions. The Ingalls' packed up everything their family of five owned, loaded it into a covered wagon, and took off across the country to find a home. If my family of three had to load up our material possessions, it would take a 21' truck, two cars, and some creative wedging. This isn't an estimation, it's a fact.
Today, I live a mile away from the neighborhood where I grew up. A lot of things have changed, but the one constant is that a ranch style house can become an obstacle course of strewn toys in a matter of minutes. I am an organization fanatic - I can't stand disorder, it gives me a headache and makes me generally cranky. My next step is to rent a dumpster and give myself 2 hours to fill it up. Where does all this stuff come from? I cringe to think about how much landfill space I'm personally responsible for.
Am I alone here? I really don't think so...there are those who are much better than I at maintaining an acceptable level of clutter, but overall I think it's part of life now - for every necessity item, there's a free sample; for every kid's meal, there's a toy; for every DVD rental, there's a pile of receipts and coupons a mile high. Not that I'm blameless, here. I don't come home empty-handed every day. So, what's the answer? I honestly don't know. There are shows on home design channels about this exact issue.
I'm calling Necie Nash. I'll let you know how it goes.
The one area of my life that has never aligned with Laura's is the arena of material possessions. The Ingalls' packed up everything their family of five owned, loaded it into a covered wagon, and took off across the country to find a home. If my family of three had to load up our material possessions, it would take a 21' truck, two cars, and some creative wedging. This isn't an estimation, it's a fact.
Today, I live a mile away from the neighborhood where I grew up. A lot of things have changed, but the one constant is that a ranch style house can become an obstacle course of strewn toys in a matter of minutes. I am an organization fanatic - I can't stand disorder, it gives me a headache and makes me generally cranky. My next step is to rent a dumpster and give myself 2 hours to fill it up. Where does all this stuff come from? I cringe to think about how much landfill space I'm personally responsible for.
Am I alone here? I really don't think so...there are those who are much better than I at maintaining an acceptable level of clutter, but overall I think it's part of life now - for every necessity item, there's a free sample; for every kid's meal, there's a toy; for every DVD rental, there's a pile of receipts and coupons a mile high. Not that I'm blameless, here. I don't come home empty-handed every day. So, what's the answer? I honestly don't know. There are shows on home design channels about this exact issue.
I'm calling Necie Nash. I'll let you know how it goes.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
It is What it Is
Just about every situation can be boiled down to the above statement - It is What it Is. This is a phrase I repeat daily at work, at home, and when talking myself out of embarking on a tri-state killing spree (just kidding, but it feels great to say). It helps me to remember that no matter the possible implications of the words or actions of myself or others, I can only consider the face of it. For an OCD person such as I, contemplating the ramifications of a situation (usually focusing on my own failure in perception, statement, or deed) can spiral to the point where my own thoughts would be unrecognizable if I were in the right frame of mind. I'm a creative person, so I can conceive of possible outcomes to different situations until the end of time, and stopping that process is akin to derailing an Amtrak with a paperclip and a Happy Meal toy.
So, I've added the KT Corollary to the statement, and it's become - It is What it Is, Nothing More and Nothing Less. The first part of the addition is to remind me not to entertain myself by thinking up ways that my world could end, leaving me unemployed, despised, and afflicted by adult-onset acne. Part two is to keep me from blocking it out completely to avoid unpleasant thoughts entirely - there has to be a lesson learned.
I found this statement to be helpful this weekend when taking a stroll through the Coach store. Ahh, heaven. So many beautiful bags. Such design, such quality. Generous and understanding Dave has bestowed many handbags upon me, including two beautiful red Coach shoulder bags. As I perused the fall selection, I noticed that red is a popular color this year - and there were many opportunities to purchase lovely accessory items to complement my red bags. Suddenly, I was transformed by the notion of owning these accessory items, and imagined how glamorous I would be if only I could figure out a way to make them mine. I picked up one small item to examine it, and checked the pricetag. Oh. My. God. What was I thinking? The phrase came to mind, and I used it to come back to reality - it's just an accessory, nothing more and nothing less. The cost of that item would pay for a vacation. My heart rate returned to normal, my breathing slowed, and I didn't even want it anymore.
One victory down, hopefully an indication of more to come...
So, I've added the KT Corollary to the statement, and it's become - It is What it Is, Nothing More and Nothing Less. The first part of the addition is to remind me not to entertain myself by thinking up ways that my world could end, leaving me unemployed, despised, and afflicted by adult-onset acne. Part two is to keep me from blocking it out completely to avoid unpleasant thoughts entirely - there has to be a lesson learned.
I found this statement to be helpful this weekend when taking a stroll through the Coach store. Ahh, heaven. So many beautiful bags. Such design, such quality. Generous and understanding Dave has bestowed many handbags upon me, including two beautiful red Coach shoulder bags. As I perused the fall selection, I noticed that red is a popular color this year - and there were many opportunities to purchase lovely accessory items to complement my red bags. Suddenly, I was transformed by the notion of owning these accessory items, and imagined how glamorous I would be if only I could figure out a way to make them mine. I picked up one small item to examine it, and checked the pricetag. Oh. My. God. What was I thinking? The phrase came to mind, and I used it to come back to reality - it's just an accessory, nothing more and nothing less. The cost of that item would pay for a vacation. My heart rate returned to normal, my breathing slowed, and I didn't even want it anymore.
One victory down, hopefully an indication of more to come...
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Kittese
My first child was a kitty named Tasha Pretty Kitty, who spelled phonetically and plotted world domination. She was with us for 17 years. I wear her initials around my neck every day, and I miss her all the time. She returned to Kittor to regain her rightful place in the Tricateral Commission, and assured us that when the revolution came, we would be spared. When confronting a new idea or situation, she would have to "groom on that", and she wrote songs in her spare time. When she wasn't planning world domination, that is.
She would have loved this:
http://icanhascheezburger.com/
She would have loved this:
http://icanhascheezburger.com/
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Shock and Awe
As stated in a previous post, my uniform for work is a pair of black boot cut pants, some top, and 2" heels. This is something I believed to be true in the same way that the sky is up, grass is green, and I will only find the perfect accessory when I am broke. Tonight, I learned that I have been wrong...shocking, yes...but true.
Due to the recent acquisition of a new wardrobe (thanks, Mom!) I now have the ability to branch out into new clothing horizons, which include the implementation of pants in colors other than black. Nervous, but determined, I set out to shop online for the perfect pair of chocolate brown shoes to go with the adorable low-rise flare-leg Ann Taylor pants Mom gave me. I pondered the possibility of buying a pair of heeled loafers identical to a set I already own in black. They are darling - topstitched with a cutout over the toe and little metal accents. These shoes have served me well - so well, in fact, that I'm on my second pair of black ones - but I digress. I read the description of the shoes I already owned, agreeing with the statements regarding their style, versatility, and comfort. I reflected upon how I used these shoes as a benchmark of the heel height for any other shoes, as they are just perfect for work pants as well as jeans. At the end of the description, I saw something that shook me to the core. It read, simply:
3" stacked heel
I immediately sought a ruler and my shoes, to prove the description wrong (on this point alone). Upon measuring the height of the heel, I found that not only was I wrong about the height of this shoe, but also every other shoe that I own. Friends, I do not wear 2" heels. I wear 3" heels. Every. Single. Day.
Insert joke about women and perception of inches here - it doesn't work, but go ahead and try.
This has caused me to question my beliefs about myself in other areas. Are my pants really boot cut? Am I wearing a top? How tall am I, anyway? As a person who typically fact checks everything, it's rather odd that I missed this point, all things considered. Moreover, how many shoes have I passed over, erroneously thinking that the heels were too high?
I could ponder this all night, and probably will.
Due to the recent acquisition of a new wardrobe (thanks, Mom!) I now have the ability to branch out into new clothing horizons, which include the implementation of pants in colors other than black. Nervous, but determined, I set out to shop online for the perfect pair of chocolate brown shoes to go with the adorable low-rise flare-leg Ann Taylor pants Mom gave me. I pondered the possibility of buying a pair of heeled loafers identical to a set I already own in black. They are darling - topstitched with a cutout over the toe and little metal accents. These shoes have served me well - so well, in fact, that I'm on my second pair of black ones - but I digress. I read the description of the shoes I already owned, agreeing with the statements regarding their style, versatility, and comfort. I reflected upon how I used these shoes as a benchmark of the heel height for any other shoes, as they are just perfect for work pants as well as jeans. At the end of the description, I saw something that shook me to the core. It read, simply:
3" stacked heel
I immediately sought a ruler and my shoes, to prove the description wrong (on this point alone). Upon measuring the height of the heel, I found that not only was I wrong about the height of this shoe, but also every other shoe that I own. Friends, I do not wear 2" heels. I wear 3" heels. Every. Single. Day.
Insert joke about women and perception of inches here - it doesn't work, but go ahead and try.
This has caused me to question my beliefs about myself in other areas. Are my pants really boot cut? Am I wearing a top? How tall am I, anyway? As a person who typically fact checks everything, it's rather odd that I missed this point, all things considered. Moreover, how many shoes have I passed over, erroneously thinking that the heels were too high?
I could ponder this all night, and probably will.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Very Good Things
No griping today - instead, I offer a list of 15 things that made me happy this weekend:
1. A 4 day weekend with Dave and Three Year Old. We *never* get to spend that much time together. It went by just right - not too fast, not so slow that we got bored. Just perfect. I am going to miss them both so badly tomorrow. Thankfully, it's a short week.
2. Visiting my Mom and Gaddy at their house, for the first time in well over a year. Mom made an awesome lunch, Three Year Old had a great time playing (and taking home a ton of new toys and books and and and), and we got to relax together for the first time in a long time. As a huge plus, Mom cleaned out her very nice closet - I just recently arrived back at the home base of size 8, and she gave me a new wardrobe. Much appreciated!
3. Another first time in a long time - visiting Dave's family. This was a particularly special visit because he and his parents, all of his siblings, all the nieces and nephews, basically everyone was there at the same time. Don't want to make another bullet point, but it's really amazing to realize that you've crossed the barrier of "his family" to "mine too". I'm very lucky to have married into the family that I did.
4. The amazing dinner Dave cooked for me, Three Year Old, and Dad and Sharon. Smoked brisket, olathe corn, pasta salad, Texas farm peaches and ice cream...I will be in starvation mode for a week in order to continue to fit into the aforementioned clothing. It was so amazingly good. We had such a great time. Big sigh of post consumption satisfaction.
5. Taking a nap on a pallet on the floor in front of the TV with a sleepy Three Year Old.
6. Watching "Battlestar Galactica" episodes on same pallet with not sleepy Dave.
7. Using the experience gained from a 14.5 year relationship which includes 10 years of marriage to plot course of action to exact revenge against those who have wronged either party. Neither of us is as dangerous as both of us.
8. The end of Summer! This week we are expecting highs in the 80's - bliss. I absolutely love Fall - the clothes, the colors, the crisp air, Octoberfest, and remembering so many of my favorite times that happened in the Fall.
9. Saving money and time by doing my own pedicure.
10. Breaking out my Fall bag - the much beloved Coach 2004 Limited Edition Vintage Soho Soft Duffle in bordeaux.
11. Thinking about my brother who is currently on a student exchange program in China - he really needs his own adventure series.
12. Being so fortunate to have my sister and her family close by - Three Year Old does not have foreseeable siblings, and it's awesome that he and his cousins get along so well and spend time together.
13. An empty hamper.
14. A full icebox.
15. Leftovers calling my name.
Big contented smile of satisfaction...life is very, very, very good.
1. A 4 day weekend with Dave and Three Year Old. We *never* get to spend that much time together. It went by just right - not too fast, not so slow that we got bored. Just perfect. I am going to miss them both so badly tomorrow. Thankfully, it's a short week.
2. Visiting my Mom and Gaddy at their house, for the first time in well over a year. Mom made an awesome lunch, Three Year Old had a great time playing (and taking home a ton of new toys and books and and and), and we got to relax together for the first time in a long time. As a huge plus, Mom cleaned out her very nice closet - I just recently arrived back at the home base of size 8, and she gave me a new wardrobe. Much appreciated!
3. Another first time in a long time - visiting Dave's family. This was a particularly special visit because he and his parents, all of his siblings, all the nieces and nephews, basically everyone was there at the same time. Don't want to make another bullet point, but it's really amazing to realize that you've crossed the barrier of "his family" to "mine too". I'm very lucky to have married into the family that I did.
4. The amazing dinner Dave cooked for me, Three Year Old, and Dad and Sharon. Smoked brisket, olathe corn, pasta salad, Texas farm peaches and ice cream...I will be in starvation mode for a week in order to continue to fit into the aforementioned clothing. It was so amazingly good. We had such a great time. Big sigh of post consumption satisfaction.
5. Taking a nap on a pallet on the floor in front of the TV with a sleepy Three Year Old.
6. Watching "Battlestar Galactica" episodes on same pallet with not sleepy Dave.
7. Using the experience gained from a 14.5 year relationship which includes 10 years of marriage to plot course of action to exact revenge against those who have wronged either party. Neither of us is as dangerous as both of us.
8. The end of Summer! This week we are expecting highs in the 80's - bliss. I absolutely love Fall - the clothes, the colors, the crisp air, Octoberfest, and remembering so many of my favorite times that happened in the Fall.
9. Saving money and time by doing my own pedicure.
10. Breaking out my Fall bag - the much beloved Coach 2004 Limited Edition Vintage Soho Soft Duffle in bordeaux.
11. Thinking about my brother who is currently on a student exchange program in China - he really needs his own adventure series.
12. Being so fortunate to have my sister and her family close by - Three Year Old does not have foreseeable siblings, and it's awesome that he and his cousins get along so well and spend time together.
13. An empty hamper.
14. A full icebox.
15. Leftovers calling my name.
Big contented smile of satisfaction...life is very, very, very good.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Throwing up the Blog Block
We just got home this evening from a visit to Dallas - it was delightful, we saw lots of family in record time and had much fun. Sadly, I re-injured my shoulder and upon the slightest unplanned movement experience shooting pains followed by numbness in my left arm. Fortunately, I am a right-handed fencer.
Item Identified for LGF:
Non-Dallas drivers in Dallas: After spending 9 plus years in Dallas, and living in a remote suburb of the city for 4 of those years, Dave and I revert right back to our carefully honed North Texas driving skills upon crossing the state line. It's a mix of assertiveness, sharp reflexes, and the ability to predict the future. In a way, it's a competitive sport, and I enjoy coming out of retirement every now and then to see if my game is still sharp (it is). What I find particularly annoying are those individuals who are visiting Dallas from other far-flung areas (i.e., nowhere in Texas or Oklahoma) and are laboring under the misconception that they will be escorted outside of city limits if they don't take out a family or five during their visit. One bastardly gentleman from Kentucky deliberately attempted to cause *three* accidents with us because we had the nerve to try and get over to avoid the wreck in the right lane. You, sir, are a prick who deserves to get the trots on your drive home. When visiting Dallas as a tourist, please remember - all the stories you hear are true, so just resign yourself to the fact that you will get beaten off the line by everyone with a TollTag. It's the price you pay for great shopping.
Gone but Not Forgotten:
My old job: I had sharp pangs of what could be homesickness whenever I passed the building (6 times) where I worked for almost 8 years. The company name is emblazoned on the side of the building, and if I had been in town during a work day, I would have trotted in to say hi to my old coworkers/friends. We're still in touch, but I really miss the atmosphere, the job, and the relationships I had when I worked there. I still feel like I haven't really left, and someday I'll find my security badge and walk right back in to my old office. I hope those chairs I inherited during the remodel are still there - I liked them a lot.
My new words to live by:
Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and good with ketchup.
Have a great holiday.
Item Identified for LGF:
Non-Dallas drivers in Dallas: After spending 9 plus years in Dallas, and living in a remote suburb of the city for 4 of those years, Dave and I revert right back to our carefully honed North Texas driving skills upon crossing the state line. It's a mix of assertiveness, sharp reflexes, and the ability to predict the future. In a way, it's a competitive sport, and I enjoy coming out of retirement every now and then to see if my game is still sharp (it is). What I find particularly annoying are those individuals who are visiting Dallas from other far-flung areas (i.e., nowhere in Texas or Oklahoma) and are laboring under the misconception that they will be escorted outside of city limits if they don't take out a family or five during their visit. One bastardly gentleman from Kentucky deliberately attempted to cause *three* accidents with us because we had the nerve to try and get over to avoid the wreck in the right lane. You, sir, are a prick who deserves to get the trots on your drive home. When visiting Dallas as a tourist, please remember - all the stories you hear are true, so just resign yourself to the fact that you will get beaten off the line by everyone with a TollTag. It's the price you pay for great shopping.
Gone but Not Forgotten:
My old job: I had sharp pangs of what could be homesickness whenever I passed the building (6 times) where I worked for almost 8 years. The company name is emblazoned on the side of the building, and if I had been in town during a work day, I would have trotted in to say hi to my old coworkers/friends. We're still in touch, but I really miss the atmosphere, the job, and the relationships I had when I worked there. I still feel like I haven't really left, and someday I'll find my security badge and walk right back in to my old office. I hope those chairs I inherited during the remodel are still there - I liked them a lot.
My new words to live by:
Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and good with ketchup.
Have a great holiday.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
It's a real fine place to start...
Last weekend we celebrated the almost 3 year old's birthday - he is now officially the three year old. Every birthday is special, this one was no different. On his first birthday, we practically had a coronation. His second birthday was fun, especially when he realized that all those presents were for him. This year, the buildup to his birthday started 6 months in advance. He knew what was going on, was appropriately adorable and frenetic, and ate much cake. Perfection.
This has been a bit of a rough week. Between Dave's long hours, drama at my job, and the three year old coming down off the birthday high, I'm pretty much done. So, the item identified for LGF:
"Hump Day"
My hatred of this term was renewed after I spent the longest 2.48 minutes of my life in an elevator with a person enamored with the concept. You know how this goes...the conversation is...brief... yet...simultaneously...eternal...
Despite the interesting connotations of the term, "Hump Day" is just another rip off. First, it's just a stupid term. There's no hump in the week. And, if there were, which I'm not saying is the case, then it would have to be located at exactly 12:00 noon - based on my calculations, this is not an entire day. I know that everyone isn't as data driven as I am on topics such as this, but stay with me a little bit longer, OK? If we assume that there is a hump in the week, and it falls after 12:00 noon on Wednesday, it actually brings us only one half day closer to...Saturday! The KT Corollary to the Hump Day rule is that this magical half day, due to the space time continuum, moves us further away from another part of the weekend...Sunday! Thus, the whole thing is a lie. The only day that can be honestly recognized as being closer to the weekend than any other day thus far within a week is the often overlooked Thursday.
The only thing I can think of that I reeeaaaalllly miss right now is sleep, so I shall go and find some immediately. If I sit here much longer, I fear that I would awaken to find a keyboard pattern on my face.
Thank you, Thursday.
This has been a bit of a rough week. Between Dave's long hours, drama at my job, and the three year old coming down off the birthday high, I'm pretty much done. So, the item identified for LGF:
"Hump Day"
My hatred of this term was renewed after I spent the longest 2.48 minutes of my life in an elevator with a person enamored with the concept. You know how this goes...the conversation is...brief... yet...simultaneously...eternal...
Despite the interesting connotations of the term, "Hump Day" is just another rip off. First, it's just a stupid term. There's no hump in the week. And, if there were, which I'm not saying is the case, then it would have to be located at exactly 12:00 noon - based on my calculations, this is not an entire day. I know that everyone isn't as data driven as I am on topics such as this, but stay with me a little bit longer, OK? If we assume that there is a hump in the week, and it falls after 12:00 noon on Wednesday, it actually brings us only one half day closer to...Saturday! The KT Corollary to the Hump Day rule is that this magical half day, due to the space time continuum, moves us further away from another part of the weekend...Sunday! Thus, the whole thing is a lie. The only day that can be honestly recognized as being closer to the weekend than any other day thus far within a week is the often overlooked Thursday.
The only thing I can think of that I reeeaaaalllly miss right now is sleep, so I shall go and find some immediately. If I sit here much longer, I fear that I would awaken to find a keyboard pattern on my face.
Thank you, Thursday.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Parenting Coup
The almost 3 year old was in rare form tonight - he really didn't feel the need to go along with any of the suggestions Dave or I proposed, regardless of how forcefully our ideas were suggested, or repetition of same. With that in mind, it was determined by our council of two that bedtime draweth nigh much earlier than it might on other evenings. Armed with the promise of Bob the Builder, I took a rare turn at putting the almost 3 year old to bed. Fulfilling my promise of Bob the Builder wasn't so difficult from a tactical standpoint, but strategically...this is a plan I will not be employing in the future. Bob the Builder is excruciatingly long. To be exact, this particular Bob the Builder video is one soul-sucking hour long. I no longer care if Bob can fix it, build it, or fold it in half and stick it in his toolbelt. Following the much awaited (by me) conclusion of the epic saga of Bob the Builder, the almost 3 year old determined that he was not yet ready to sleep. He asked for a particular song, which I delivered. He seemed ready for sleep...then...he found his Sheriff Woody (Toy Story, for the uninitiated). Sheriff Woody was waiting for a solo flight around my head, it seems. I remained quiet for the first couple of trips, gritting my teeth and reminding myself that this was only a ploy to get me off the topic of sleep. Sheriff Woody isn't gifted with graceful flight - the third pass may require a visit to the ENT, and the fourth pass basically grazed my brain (that's for you, Brian). In a moment of stunning clarity, illuminated by the streaks of light behind my eyes, I did not express my frustration to the almost 3 year old. Instead, I chewed out Sheriff Woody. "Sheriff Woody!" I said, mustering all of my mommy authoritative voice (at some point will I not feel like I'm playing mommy on TV?) "It's time for bed! You are keeping me and almost 3 year old awake! If you can't stop flying and go to sleep, you are going to time out this instant!" What do you know...it worked. Almost 3 year old scolded Sheriff Woody for his antics, and sleep arrived a mere 5 minutes later. Bliss.
It's kind of funny - all day I work with adults, and a lot of them are pretty sharp. When I'm able to persuade an unwilling party over to my side, or convince two people to let go of each other's throats, or talk a stressed out colleague back in from the ledge, I sometimes feel like it was just dumb luck. On days like today, when things go particularly and spectacularly well, a part of me expects to see a group of people who strongly resemble the Publishers Clearinghouse Sweepstakes Prize Team congregating at my office door...but instead of handing me a giant check, they hold up a sign that clearly reads IMPOSTOR.
But tonight, I convinced an almost 3 year old to go to sleep without a fight or a crying jag. Tonight, I am a genius.
It's kind of funny - all day I work with adults, and a lot of them are pretty sharp. When I'm able to persuade an unwilling party over to my side, or convince two people to let go of each other's throats, or talk a stressed out colleague back in from the ledge, I sometimes feel like it was just dumb luck. On days like today, when things go particularly and spectacularly well, a part of me expects to see a group of people who strongly resemble the Publishers Clearinghouse Sweepstakes Prize Team congregating at my office door...but instead of handing me a giant check, they hold up a sign that clearly reads IMPOSTOR.
But tonight, I convinced an almost 3 year old to go to sleep without a fight or a crying jag. Tonight, I am a genius.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
I'M MELTING...what a world, what a world
OK, this is ridiculous. It is so hot that my brain is frying inside of my head. I can literally feel myself expanding as I bake when stepping outside. It's like a protracted death, interrupted by the incessant attacks from the mosquitos who are apparently impervious to the scorching sun.
The good news is, it's supposed to cool off to a chilly 93 on Saturday, the day that the almost 3 year old actually turns 3.
Other than the weather, items identified for LGF are limited today to phrases:
1. The phrase "(insert person/place/thing here) can see me in hell". OK, correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that the least of your problems will be encountering the source of your contempt when you are in hell. Based on my understanding of hell, there are few individuals, including but not limited to Condescending Pharmacy Clerk, who can compare to the discomfort level one would experience in hell. Just a thought.
2. "I could care less". Given the widespread use of this phrase, it's entirely possible that I just don't understand. It seems to me, that if a person could "care less" about a situation or problem, there is serious ground to be gained by the party inflicting this particular irritation. I would see this as an open door demanding to be kicked down.
3. "There is no I in team". True, but there is an M and an E, and changing the spelling of team to teim is one of my fantasies. It's been my experience that people who employ this particular saying are riding along comfortably on the backs of their teammates.
The tributes:
The once upon a time when Coach and Dooney didn't introduce new collections every month. If I find myself inexplicably and unfortunately poor when a certain item I particularly like is introduced, the odds are very bad that I will be able to obtain it anywhere other than eBay.
Spring 2007...I didn't appreciate you enough, did I? You were here for me, and I didn't pay enough attention to you. I learned from my mistakes in our relationship, and want you to come back. Please baby - don't be that way.
Time for me to go soak in ice - have a lovely evening...
The good news is, it's supposed to cool off to a chilly 93 on Saturday, the day that the almost 3 year old actually turns 3.
Other than the weather, items identified for LGF are limited today to phrases:
1. The phrase "(insert person/place/thing here) can see me in hell". OK, correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that the least of your problems will be encountering the source of your contempt when you are in hell. Based on my understanding of hell, there are few individuals, including but not limited to Condescending Pharmacy Clerk, who can compare to the discomfort level one would experience in hell. Just a thought.
2. "I could care less". Given the widespread use of this phrase, it's entirely possible that I just don't understand. It seems to me, that if a person could "care less" about a situation or problem, there is serious ground to be gained by the party inflicting this particular irritation. I would see this as an open door demanding to be kicked down.
3. "There is no I in team". True, but there is an M and an E, and changing the spelling of team to teim is one of my fantasies. It's been my experience that people who employ this particular saying are riding along comfortably on the backs of their teammates.
The tributes:
The once upon a time when Coach and Dooney didn't introduce new collections every month. If I find myself inexplicably and unfortunately poor when a certain item I particularly like is introduced, the odds are very bad that I will be able to obtain it anywhere other than eBay.
Spring 2007...I didn't appreciate you enough, did I? You were here for me, and I didn't pay enough attention to you. I learned from my mistakes in our relationship, and want you to come back. Please baby - don't be that way.
Time for me to go soak in ice - have a lovely evening...
Sunday, August 12, 2007
The Heat is On
Although talking about the weather is one of the most overwhelmingly boring topics in the whole world, the recent trend in scorching, soul-sucking, insufferable heat is my focus for LGF this weekend. Yesterday we stayed inside pretty much *all day*, due to the fear of evaporating if we ventured out of the house. This morning, Dave and I attacked two outside projects, thinking that if we started early, we would avoid the worst part of the day. We were wrong. There is no avoiding the worst part of the day, when it lasts all day long. Thanks to Dave, the trees are pruned, the branches are cut and ready for the garbage pickup, and the yard is watered. Thanks to me, the leather in the Maxima is cleaned and conditioned, and there is no longer an obstacle course through our garage of empty boxes filled with packing paper. I can't say the same regarding the rest of the garage, but heat stroke prevented me from going further. Those of you who know me well will understand that I had to be lured from the garage into the house, as I had entered into "project zone", where the need for food, water, and elimination are ignored in my quest to complete my task. Unfortunately, the nature of my tasks tend to grow from something manageable (break down boxes, put packing paper into trash bags) into a hero's challenge worthy of endorsement by the Stygian Witches (clean entire garage, organize tools into cabinets, rearrange boxes by contents, then repaint exterior of house - before lunch). Thankfully, Dave did an intervention and so I didn't die. That makes it a good day.
Venturing from the usual format, I give my highest approval to a movie we watched this weekend - 300, based on Frank Miller's graphic novel about the Battle of Thermopylae. This movie had it all - strong characters, outstanding story, educational plot, and men who went to war in their underwear and a cape. Those guys knew how to accessorize, too - the shields, the spears, the swords - all TOP quality. I admire that. I may well be the last person in the U.S. to see this movie, as it's been over 3 years since I saw a movie at an actual theater. This has it's good and bad points - I would have liked to see this one in the theater (I understand that it was at IMAX for a while, dammit!) but on the plus side, I can stop the movie whenever I need a drink, smoke, etc.
My brain is still sore, so that's it for today. Until tomorrow...
Venturing from the usual format, I give my highest approval to a movie we watched this weekend - 300, based on Frank Miller's graphic novel about the Battle of Thermopylae. This movie had it all - strong characters, outstanding story, educational plot, and men who went to war in their underwear and a cape. Those guys knew how to accessorize, too - the shields, the spears, the swords - all TOP quality. I admire that. I may well be the last person in the U.S. to see this movie, as it's been over 3 years since I saw a movie at an actual theater. This has it's good and bad points - I would have liked to see this one in the theater (I understand that it was at IMAX for a while, dammit!) but on the plus side, I can stop the movie whenever I need a drink, smoke, etc.
My brain is still sore, so that's it for today. Until tomorrow...
Thursday, August 9, 2007
The Joys of Travel
I'm back from Orlando - it was a great trip. The meeting was very productive, and I got to visit Downtown Disney on Tuesday night (so AWESOME!!), and Orlando Premium Outlets last night, and see a lot of my peers who live in different parts of the country. My flights connected through Hartsfield-Jackson Airport in Atlanta, which has smoking lounges inside the building, in almost every terminal. Now, on to the list:
Items Identified for LGF during my trip:
1. My own personal hell - I could look across the highway from my hotel and see the sign for the Coach factory outlet AND the Dooney factory outlet. I tortured myself by taking a stroll through each of these stores last night. Did I mention that I had NO money to spend? If I am a very bad person, this is how I will spend eternity.
2. The majority of other travelers - General rule of thumb - when walking through an airport that is roughly the size of a city, regular traffic rules should be observed. Do you come to a screeching stop in the middle of the street to engage in a conversation? Is it your habit to straddle two lanes while driving slowly? Do you drive off and leave your children a block or so behind, then stop short upon the realization that it's YOUR name they are screaming? If so, you are a blight upon society and should never be allowed in Orlando International or Hartsfield-Jackson. And you should consider driver's ed.
3. Airline cost savings tactics - I don't miss the rubber "turkey" sandwiches, and I'm not that enthusiastic about eating while on a plane, anyway. Bring me a diet coke and don't crash the plane, and I'm happy. HOWEVER - "puddle jumper" planes should be reserved for just that type of travel. I'm talking to you, Delta Connection. A trip from Tulsa to Atlanta is not going across a puddle. In an Embraer, it's a sweaty, confining, stuffy journey in a sardine can. Why did I get a 767 from Orlando to Atlanta (1 hour) vs. an Embraer from Atlanta to Tulsa (2.5 hours). This is ridiculous and must be stopped.
4. Airport Security at Orlando International - Plan to arrive an hour before your flight, in order to stand in "line" for 45 minutes, and sprint to the tram, then run like hell for your plane. During this time, expect to be publicly humiliated by TSA screeners who are taking out their frustration over their lot in life on you. This is the sacrifice Disney demands of you.
The tributes:
1. Christine - My manager, Christine, is leaving tomorrow for an amazing opportunity with another company. I wish her the best of luck, and she deserves every success. I will miss her terribly, though. She lives outside of Philadelphia, and as such I only see her roughly annually. She was in Orlando, and seeing her before she leaves our current employer was the highlight of the trip.
2. Minibar - I needed you, minibar. When I worked until 2 a.m. on both nights, I longed for your company. My lonely, empty, bare little fridge needed company. Where were you, minibar? Please come back.
3. The time when I heard the words "Final Destination" and didn't get a little shiver, wondering if I would get home, ever. How foreboding.
Have a lovely evening...I'm going to bed now.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Zero Hour Approaches
The time is now 11:11 p.m. CDT. At 6:45 a.m. CDT, I need to be at the airport. Perhaps in the future I will consider beginning the packing process prior to 9 p.m. the night before departure. As a business traveler, I know to plan on my luggage NOT arriving, so everyflippingthing has to go into my roller bag. Thanks to Dave and his constant wisdom in terms of investment items, my rolling laptop bag has a back compartment that is...a small suitcase! I had serious concerns about dropping the $$ for this particular bag, but it has been a very worthwhile investment. Thanks, Dave!!!
I'm a little distracted with preparations for this trip, but look forward to getting lots of new material as I travel through Atlanta to Orlando tomorrow.
ZZZzzzzzz
I'm a little distracted with preparations for this trip, but look forward to getting lots of new material as I travel through Atlanta to Orlando tomorrow.
ZZZzzzzzz
Sunday, August 5, 2007
You Can't Always Get What You Want
As an update to yesterday, Dave and I did venture out into the hysteria known as "tax free weekend!" in the hopes of obtaining our needed items. With Jacob in tow as tour guide, we employed a new strategy...we arrive at the stores about 30 minutes before closing time. The end result? Dave found a suitable pair of new work boots at a lower price than anticipated. For me, the psychedelic print shirt was not to be had. I visited my usual provider of psychedelic print shirts, but had to declare no joy after all of my selections made me look like a 5 months pregnant extra from an Austin Powers movie. While this is only a slight departure from my daily goal of looking like an extra from an Austin Powers movie, I just didn't care for the added twist.
So...the list for today will focus on two types of shoppers worthy of LGF:
Type 1 - Shoplifter. If you can't afford the shoes in box A, please do not switch them with the shoes from box B, in order to pay a lower price. I'm not so much concerned with the cost that eventually gets passed back to me, The Consumer - it's just tacky and wrong and stealing. Plus, it confuses those of us who arrive at the shoe boxes after you.
Type 2 - Drive By Parenting Counselor. To the balding man in the blades sunglasses...thank you so much for your editorial comment regarding my child's temper tantrum. It could have been that he was tired, or perhaps impatient, or it could have been your ugly-ass muscle shirt and too-tight shorts. I followed you around the store to intimidate, you, yes...but also to imagine what might have been your rejected wardrobe options for the day. If the sunglasses/shirt/shorts combo you selected is any indication of your life choices, I'll get my advice elsewhere, thanks.
Tributes:
Beaming Technology - OK, I know it wasn't real, but whatever happened to beaming technology? There are some family members and friends I would really like to see, and beaming technology would make that sooooo much easier. Plus, there's the whole issue of being a business traveler who is NOT flying out of a major hub...the only interesting thing about a layover is when you're using it as part of a dirty joke.
Leopard Sandal Thank You Notes - I remember where I last saw you, Leopard Sandal Thank You Notes, but that was one year and two houses ago. You are so cute, Leopard Sandal Thank You Notes, and I have no idea where you might be. I miss you. Call me.
Until tomorrow, when I am less than 12 hours away of leaving for Orlando...
So...the list for today will focus on two types of shoppers worthy of LGF:
Type 1 - Shoplifter. If you can't afford the shoes in box A, please do not switch them with the shoes from box B, in order to pay a lower price. I'm not so much concerned with the cost that eventually gets passed back to me, The Consumer - it's just tacky and wrong and stealing. Plus, it confuses those of us who arrive at the shoe boxes after you.
Type 2 - Drive By Parenting Counselor. To the balding man in the blades sunglasses...thank you so much for your editorial comment regarding my child's temper tantrum. It could have been that he was tired, or perhaps impatient, or it could have been your ugly-ass muscle shirt and too-tight shorts. I followed you around the store to intimidate, you, yes...but also to imagine what might have been your rejected wardrobe options for the day. If the sunglasses/shirt/shorts combo you selected is any indication of your life choices, I'll get my advice elsewhere, thanks.
Tributes:
Beaming Technology - OK, I know it wasn't real, but whatever happened to beaming technology? There are some family members and friends I would really like to see, and beaming technology would make that sooooo much easier. Plus, there's the whole issue of being a business traveler who is NOT flying out of a major hub...the only interesting thing about a layover is when you're using it as part of a dirty joke.
Leopard Sandal Thank You Notes - I remember where I last saw you, Leopard Sandal Thank You Notes, but that was one year and two houses ago. You are so cute, Leopard Sandal Thank You Notes, and I have no idea where you might be. I miss you. Call me.
Until tomorrow, when I am less than 12 hours away of leaving for Orlando...
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Is it reeeealllly worth it?
Today is Oklahoma's first "tax free weekend!". If you don't live here, don't get too excited. It's basically one weekend where shoppers can purchase clothing and shoes of a price *under a certain threshold* (no designer handbag savings) without paying sales tax. If it were up to me, there would be no taxes on anything, including my nerves. But alas. Texas has enjoyed this annual event for several years...come to think of it, the first time this happened in Texas was right after I moved there. States wishing for such a boon to their local economy should contact me with a lucrative offer for relocation...but I digress.
Today, I am limiting my list of items to be nominated for LGF to this "tax free weekend!". All I want is a new psychedelic print shirt to go with my uniform of black boot cut pants and 2" heels - I'm going to Orlando for a meeting this week, and nothing makes me feel intelligent and professional like a new psychedelic print shirt. All Dave wants is a new pair of work boots - the need for which should be self-explanatory. Our hopes to achieve these goals were dashed today, all due to the "tax free weekend!". So many people. So many cars. We just couldn't do it. I lift my diet coke with vanilla to all of you who saved a ton of money on your back to school purchases. I tip my winston light to those who actually planned out their clothing purchases to make the most of your clothing budget. For me, it wasn't worth it - I had to do something that I really don't enjoy - I delayed my gratification. This weekend, I shall dream of my perfect shirt, and how it will bring out my eyes, make me smarter, and change my life. My frustration is mounting.
In the "Gone but not Forgotten" file...
Grocery Store Delivery - I have an almost 3 year old. As such, I approach a trip to the grocery store with fear and dread...my hope that a brief visit will pass without incident is dead, fallen victim to the anvil of reality. Since most convenience and specialty stores are woefully lacking a drive through, I look back wistfully upon the days of grocery store delivery. To those who know my age, NO, you're right, I don't remember it from when I was a kid...I am too young. What I'm referring to is the dot.com crash of the early 2000's, which can count among it's victims www.grocerystore.com. We hardly knew ye.
So long, farewell, it's time to say goodnight...
Today, I am limiting my list of items to be nominated for LGF to this "tax free weekend!". All I want is a new psychedelic print shirt to go with my uniform of black boot cut pants and 2" heels - I'm going to Orlando for a meeting this week, and nothing makes me feel intelligent and professional like a new psychedelic print shirt. All Dave wants is a new pair of work boots - the need for which should be self-explanatory. Our hopes to achieve these goals were dashed today, all due to the "tax free weekend!". So many people. So many cars. We just couldn't do it. I lift my diet coke with vanilla to all of you who saved a ton of money on your back to school purchases. I tip my winston light to those who actually planned out their clothing purchases to make the most of your clothing budget. For me, it wasn't worth it - I had to do something that I really don't enjoy - I delayed my gratification. This weekend, I shall dream of my perfect shirt, and how it will bring out my eyes, make me smarter, and change my life. My frustration is mounting.
In the "Gone but not Forgotten" file...
Grocery Store Delivery - I have an almost 3 year old. As such, I approach a trip to the grocery store with fear and dread...my hope that a brief visit will pass without incident is dead, fallen victim to the anvil of reality. Since most convenience and specialty stores are woefully lacking a drive through, I look back wistfully upon the days of grocery store delivery. To those who know my age, NO, you're right, I don't remember it from when I was a kid...I am too young. What I'm referring to is the dot.com crash of the early 2000's, which can count among it's victims www.grocerystore.com. We hardly knew ye.
So long, farewell, it's time to say goodnight...
Friday, August 3, 2007
Feels like the first time...
Today is the first day of the rest of my blog.
Every day I compile my list of people, places, and things deserving of localized gravity failure...the experience of (without warning) zipping off into outer space. I didn't invent this term, but will take undue credit for it and pass it off as my own (thanks, Dad...you understand, right???). Negative? Maybe. Therapeutic? Youbetcha.
The corollary to this list is the group of people, places, and things, who and where and which, through no fault or responsibility of their own, experienced LGF - this is my tribute.
Today's List of Candidates for LGF:
1. Job candidates who labor under the mistaken impression that MY job is a giant probabilities game, and that my favorite part of all is when they call my office phone 35431654378453541 times within 15 minutes without leaving a voice mail. Persistence = good. Psycho dialing = bad.
2. My woefully inadequate printer cartridges - you tempt me with your promises of clearly printed documents, and reward my devotion by going dry when I need you most.
3. Condescending Pharmacy Clerk. I'm sorry that I get on your nerves, Condescending Pharmacy Clerk. I apologize for standing outside of my car in the EMPTY OTHER THAN ME drive through to insert my child back into the booster seat of his discontent. My regret at having my debit card ready to go and simultaneously handing it to you while fastening a seat belt is heartfelt. I am sorry that I ruined your day through my very existence, Condescending Pharmacy Clerk.
Gone but not Forgotten:
1. Ubiquitous Styrofoam Cups - There is a very good reason why, every single morning, I visit a certain establishment which will remain unnamed but rhymes with Phonic. From waking until approximately 6:30 p.m., I exist exclusively on diet coke with vanilla and nicotine. The paltry plastic cups offered by the more convenient and less expensive purveyors of diet coke simply do not suffice. The condensation on my hands, desk, and folders is unacceptable. The prematurely melted ice *cubes* ruin the satisfaction I seek from my lifeblood.
2. Toys in the Cereal Box - It's just not the same! What are we teaching our children? They are going to grow up thinking that your reward for finishing a project is a sugar rush and an empty box roughly the size of your torso. Wait...
3. Commercial Jingles Sung Harmoniously by Happy People - Somehow, it just made me feel better to know that somewhere, a freshly plumbed kitchen sink was bringing contentment to at least a quintet of people.
At least, that's what I think.
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