-Aleita, age 5
Monday, January 25, 2010
GRUMBLING, MUTTERED COMMENT FROM THE BREAKFAST TABLE THIS MORNING . . .
"Superman would never eat oatmeal."
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
AND A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM . . .
Last Friday morning, I sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast with Maggie and Aleita while scanning the headlines of the front page of the day's newspaper. Studying the paper across the table, Maggie said to me, "Why is that woman screaming?"
Maggie has heard about the struggles of the Haitian people before. One of the members of our church, Linda Damery, is involved with a not-for-profit organization that organizes medical mission trips to Haiti throughout the year. Linda, an RN, has been to Haiti multiple times as part of the mission team. She has brought back pictures and stories of the people she has served while in Haiti and has shared them with our congregation.
Maggie and I sat at the table that morning and discussed what this devastating earthquake meant for the people of Haiti. We discussed how most of the people in this country live without enough food to eat or clean water to drink. We talked about how most of the children there do not get to go to school. We talked about the lack of electricity and adequate shelter and clothing and the absence of medical care. We discussed how the earthquake had made their already unfathomably difficult lives that much more so.
She sat there quietly for a minute, then said to me, "Can I give them the money in my bank?" The money in her bank is money she has received for her birthday and from doing chores around the house. This stash is what she has been saving to purchase clothes for her American Girl doll during our next excursion to Chicago. I said to her, "It's your money. You can do with it what you want."
She gave a small smile, and satisfied, went back to eating her breakfast. And just like that, my nine-year old showed me despite all the greed and ugliness that exists in this world, there is yet so much good. That evening, we counted the money in her bank and found that she had $59.93. We topped it off to make it an even $60.00. I hugged her and told her how proud I was of her. She said, "I have enough stuff. This will help someone who really needs it."
On Sunday, Maggie brought her Tootsie Roll bank to church and dumped the entire thing in the special offering plate being passed around for donation for the Haitian relief fund. Chris and I matched her donation, and asked that all of them be sent to FOTCOH - - The Friends of the Children of Haiti - - which is the organization with which Linda volunteers.
So I give you the Maggie Tootsie Roll bank challenge....here is the link to FOTCOH. http://www.fotcoh.org/ On the front page is a link where you can directly donate to the organization. Take some time on the website while you are there and learn about this amazing, giving charity.
(AP Photo/Gerald Herbert)
Maggie has heard about the struggles of the Haitian people before. One of the members of our church, Linda Damery, is involved with a not-for-profit organization that organizes medical mission trips to Haiti throughout the year. Linda, an RN, has been to Haiti multiple times as part of the mission team. She has brought back pictures and stories of the people she has served while in Haiti and has shared them with our congregation.
Maggie and I sat at the table that morning and discussed what this devastating earthquake meant for the people of Haiti. We discussed how most of the people in this country live without enough food to eat or clean water to drink. We talked about how most of the children there do not get to go to school. We talked about the lack of electricity and adequate shelter and clothing and the absence of medical care. We discussed how the earthquake had made their already unfathomably difficult lives that much more so.
She sat there quietly for a minute, then said to me, "Can I give them the money in my bank?" The money in her bank is money she has received for her birthday and from doing chores around the house. This stash is what she has been saving to purchase clothes for her American Girl doll during our next excursion to Chicago. I said to her, "It's your money. You can do with it what you want."
She gave a small smile, and satisfied, went back to eating her breakfast. And just like that, my nine-year old showed me despite all the greed and ugliness that exists in this world, there is yet so much good. That evening, we counted the money in her bank and found that she had $59.93. We topped it off to make it an even $60.00. I hugged her and told her how proud I was of her. She said, "I have enough stuff. This will help someone who really needs it."
On Sunday, Maggie brought her Tootsie Roll bank to church and dumped the entire thing in the special offering plate being passed around for donation for the Haitian relief fund. Chris and I matched her donation, and asked that all of them be sent to FOTCOH - - The Friends of the Children of Haiti - - which is the organization with which Linda volunteers.
So I give you the Maggie Tootsie Roll bank challenge....here is the link to FOTCOH. http://www.fotcoh.org/ On the front page is a link where you can directly donate to the organization. Take some time on the website while you are there and learn about this amazing, giving charity.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
PRESS ONE FOR ENGLISH
Yesterday afternoon, I had to contact A. T. & T. about our business phone lines. Rather than being given choices and punching a number on the phone to generate my answer, I instead had to vocalize my responses. I always feel ridiculous when I do this - - I find that I have to really enunciate my words as well as speak in raised voice….otherwise it will say, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand….let’s try again.”
Yesterday was no different. Bound and determined that I would not spend any more time than absolutely necessary stuck on the phone call, I sighed and played its little “I don’t understand you” game. The next time it asked the question, “Do you have a business account with us?” I loudly responded, “YYYYEEESSSSS.” One of my co-workers passing by my office door shot me a quizzical look that likely translated to “I think you’ve finally lost it.” He, of course, had no way of knowing that I was not dealing with a deaf and dim business associate, but rather with a hearing-impaired perfectionist computer. From what he could hear on my end of the conversation, it went something like this:
“YYYYYEEESSSSSS.”
“YYYYYEEESSSSSS.”
“NNNOOOOOOO.”
“LONG DISTANCE RATES.”
LOOONNNNNGGG DIISSSTTTAANNNNCCCEEE RRRRRAAATTTEESSS.”
“YYYYYEEEESSSSSS.”
And so on. After being led through this absurdly long series of prompts, I was ultimately placed in a waiting cue to speak to a real-live human being. The system informed me that my wait would be at least ten minutes. I put the phone on speaker and worked on some other things at my desk while I listened to some snazzy muzak that was interrupted about every thirty seconds by a computerized voice that thanked me for waiting and reminded me that my call would be answered in the order that it was received.
After waiting on hold for about fifteen minutes, I began to fret that one of the following two things would happen - - I was afraid that either:
A. The moment my call got picked up by a real-live person, he/she would do something to disconnect me and then I would have to start all over again.
OR
B. that I would get that guy/gal that you can’t understand….the one who speaks such heavily accented English that you struggle just to piece together a few words.
Scenario B happened to me a few weeks ago when I had to call about an internet order I had placed to Snapfish for pictures. The man at the call center (that I can only assume must’ve have been located in the middle of India) could scarcely patch together three words of discernible English….and this was after waiting fifteen minutes to speak to a person. Our conversation went something like this:
Me: I need to speak with someone about a recent order I placed.
Him: dfjiwe order number f09di8sd foisd sdfjsdids provide dsfji0adgkoa?
Me: Did you just ask me to give you the order number?
Him: fsjio yis sdfj.
Me: OK - If you just asked me for my order number, it’s 3562945.
Him: cmripbvf problem msd fioa mscdkol bmdi help?
Me: I’m sorry, could you repeat that?
Him: CMRIPBVF PROBLEM MSD FIOA MSCDKOL BMDI HELP?
Me: I don’t understand what you’re saying.
Him: sfjioer order sdfmi sdfio this fjsido?
Me: (sigh)
This phone call that should have lasted about three minutes took close to twenty because he had to repeat himself so many times. After I disconnected from the phone call, I was still unsure as to whether we had resolved the situation or not. (I did get the proper replacement order soon after, so apparently we did manage to hash out an understanding. I was dreading having to call back again, so thank goodness for that miracle.)
I wonder if companies even care that when they create foreign call centers staffed by barely-English speaking representatives to handle their problems, it makes me as a consumer not want to use their services anymore. Perhaps the amount of money they save in not having the call center staffed by people who speak perceptible English outweighs the amount of money they lose in customers who take their business elsewhere. I don’t know.
It turns out that neither of my fears were realized in the case of the A. T. & T. business call yesterday. After an almost 25 minute wait, the customer service representative came on the phone speaking pitch-perfect English. I almost wept with joy. He was polite and knowledgeable and did a great job handling my account. I wasn’t thrilled about the wait time or the yelling in a carefully enunciated voice at the beginning of the call, but at least I could understand every word that this guy said to me. And, when I hung up the phone, I was fairly confident that my issues had been resolved.
We take what we can get, don’t we?
Friday, December 11, 2009
A LITTLE LIGHT FRIDAY READING. . .
Police: Drunk woman passed out on horse
SHELBYVILLE, Tenn., Dec. 10 (UPI) -- Police in Tennessee said a horse rider participating in a Christmas parade was arrested when she drunkenly passed out atop the animal.
Shelbyville police said they received a report during Saturday night's Christmas parade of an apparently inebriated woman "wearing a red coat who was riding on a white horse" in the parade, but officers could not locate the woman or her mount on the Shelbyville square, the Shelbyville Times-Gazette reported Thursday.
Investigators said they found Patti Lynn Moore, 46, sleeping on top of her horse outside a North Cannon Boulevard motel about 15 minutes after receiving the report.
Moore was arrested and charged with public intoxication. She was released after posting $500 bond.
http://www.upi.com/Odd_News/2009/12/10/Police-Drunk-woman-passed-out-on-horse/UPI-78611260463496/
SHELBYVILLE, Tenn., Dec. 10 (UPI) -- Police in Tennessee said a horse rider participating in a Christmas parade was arrested when she drunkenly passed out atop the animal.
Shelbyville police said they received a report during Saturday night's Christmas parade of an apparently inebriated woman "wearing a red coat who was riding on a white horse" in the parade, but officers could not locate the woman or her mount on the Shelbyville square, the Shelbyville Times-Gazette reported Thursday.
Investigators said they found Patti Lynn Moore, 46, sleeping on top of her horse outside a North Cannon Boulevard motel about 15 minutes after receiving the report.
Moore was arrested and charged with public intoxication. She was released after posting $500 bond.
http://www.upi.com/Odd_News/2009/12/10/Police-Drunk-woman-passed-out-on-horse/UPI-78611260463496/
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
JUST WHAT YOU ALWAYS WANTED. . .
I was browsing through the LL Bean catalog that came in the mail yesterday, in the section titled "Out of the Ordinary Last Minute Gifts." Though I was hoping for inspiration for some of those hard-to-buy-for people on my list, I came up short here. I didn't find anything that screamed someone's name to me. One item I did find provided amusement though. For those of you who are wondering what to give to that incredibly lazy child on your list, I have found the perfect gift:
For the low, low price of $14.95, you can buy the "SNOWBALL/SNOW BLOCK MAKER SET." The description states, "Lets kids build their own forts and fill them with perfect snowballs."
For the low, low price of $14.95, you can buy the "SNOWBALL/SNOW BLOCK MAKER SET." The description states, "Lets kids build their own forts and fill them with perfect snowballs."When I was growing up, we had snowball and snow block makers, and they were called our hands. Believe it or not, they were free and did the job just fine. In fact, my brother and I built some pretty impressive snow forts in our time, several that featured multiple rooms, most that boasted slides off the tops, and one that I recall even had a stained glass window. No kidding - - we figured out that if you froze water in a bar pan and added food coloring, it made something of a stained glass window (not a very attractive one, of course, but who else can brag that their snow forts featured such striking attention to detail?) You will have to keep in mind that we grew up on a farm, so we already had lots of drifts to work with, plus a dad that used a tractor and blade to push the snow into big piles. Still, we put a lot of work into the making of our "snow mansions" . . . . all without the assistance of the LL Bean Snowball/Snow Block Maker. Just think of the amazing projects we could have completed had we had this fantastic tool! We had no idea just how deprived we were.
HAVE YOU EVER SEEN SUCH OBVIOUS NEED FOR THE
LL BEAN SNOWBALL/SNOW FORT BLOCK MAKER?!?
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
READY OR NOT . . .
Last night, I stopped at my grandparent's house and took a look around for the last time. When dad called me a few weeks ago and told me that the house has a buyer, I wasn't sure that I wanted to do so. The last time I was in the house was in August when all my grandparent's belongings were auctioned - - on that day, as I watched the furniture being carried out and saw the house emptied, it really hit me that I was seeing an era come to an end. The home has always been in my dad's family, and has been my grandparent's home since before I was born.
When my grandmother died in October 2008, I knew that this day would come at some point. It’s funny how there are certain things in your life that you think will always be there – then one day, they’re not. I never imagined a time when I couldn’t just walk right up to the door of that house and not walk right in.
Now it will belong to someone else who never knew my family gathered around the massive dining room table (that had so many leaves that it practically spread into next week.) The folks buying the house never knew a time when apple trees stood in the side yard (or knew that my brother and cousins and I would use the fallen apples as projectiles in a sometimes-painful game of apple tag.) They never saw my family all gathered on the front lawn and on the porch to watch the annual parade in August (and catch the massive amounts of candy.) They never knew us watching movies shown with an old-style movie projector, playing Dominoes at the table, or running through the dining room and making the dishes shake in the china cabinet.
During the last few years of her life when my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s had gotten bad, I didn’t think much about these things. I realized, of course, that things would change, but it was something that was going to happen LATER. When Grandma could no longer take care of herself and had to move to a nursing facility, her home kind of went into a state of suspended animation. When it unfroze and everything was piled onto rack wagons and carried out for auction, the finality of it became truly apparent. Perhaps it is just always difficult when another connection to your childhood is severed. I have no desire to return to my youth, yet that doesn't stop me from waxing nostalgic for those times every now and again. As I took that final look around last night, I realized that ready or not, LATER had arrived.
When my grandmother died in October 2008, I knew that this day would come at some point. It’s funny how there are certain things in your life that you think will always be there – then one day, they’re not. I never imagined a time when I couldn’t just walk right up to the door of that house and not walk right in.
Now it will belong to someone else who never knew my family gathered around the massive dining room table (that had so many leaves that it practically spread into next week.) The folks buying the house never knew a time when apple trees stood in the side yard (or knew that my brother and cousins and I would use the fallen apples as projectiles in a sometimes-painful game of apple tag.) They never saw my family all gathered on the front lawn and on the porch to watch the annual parade in August (and catch the massive amounts of candy.) They never knew us watching movies shown with an old-style movie projector, playing Dominoes at the table, or running through the dining room and making the dishes shake in the china cabinet.
During the last few years of her life when my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s had gotten bad, I didn’t think much about these things. I realized, of course, that things would change, but it was something that was going to happen LATER. When Grandma could no longer take care of herself and had to move to a nursing facility, her home kind of went into a state of suspended animation. When it unfroze and everything was piled onto rack wagons and carried out for auction, the finality of it became truly apparent. Perhaps it is just always difficult when another connection to your childhood is severed. I have no desire to return to my youth, yet that doesn't stop me from waxing nostalgic for those times every now and again. As I took that final look around last night, I realized that ready or not, LATER had arrived.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
WHAT DO YOU EXPECT??
Aleita's kindergarten class had their Thanksgiving play this morning at her school. The parents (or whoever the kids' guests were) could then stay for lunch with the kindergartener. The play and songs that the kids performed were very cute - - what is not to love about a bunch of little kids dressed up as Pilgrims and Indians? (Aleita was a Pilgrim, which was bad casting in my opinion. Regular readers of my blog and those that know her can agree that she is much more of the Indian variety.) At any rate, she made a pretty cute Pilgrim with her braids sticking out from beneath her little white paper bonnet.
After the performance, the kindergarteners went back to their classroom to remove costumes, then met up with their guests to go to lunch. I discovered that it only takes a brief witnessing of parent/child interaction at your child's school to reaffirm the belief that perhaps you are not doing such a bad job at being a parent after all. The mother that sat beside me at the lunch table had brought a younger child with her who was perhaps three years old. Her kindergarten son and three year old daughter spent most of the time at lunch throwing things back and forth at one another while the mom begged them in a whiny voice to stop.
The parents of the child who sat across from us had packed their child's lunch - and what a healthy alternative they had offered him in place of the cafeteria lunch: The kid had a vat of cheese spread and a roll of crackers. The tub of cheese spread was the kind you get when you order from a school fundraiser - - probably enough for ten people to easily share it - - yet here was this five-year old boy, happily consuming 100 grams of fat in one sitting. Toward the end of the meal, he said to his dad, "I want some of your applesauce," then without hesitation, proceeded to dip his index and middle finger onto his dad's tray into the applesauce and shovel it into his mouth. His dad simply said, "here's my spoon if you want some," as he handed him a utensil to use.
The funny thing is, when I have volunteered in Aleita's classroom, I find that most of these kids are actually fairly well-behaved and pretty nice little kids. When I used to teach elementary school, I often noticed the same thing - - kids will usually live up to whatever set of expectations are provided to them. I had many parents that wondered why their child would behave so much better for me than they would for them. My five-year old is certainly no angel, but you can be sure that if she took her fingers and dipped them into the food on my plate, I would be sure to give her something - though I doubt it would be a spoon.
After the performance, the kindergarteners went back to their classroom to remove costumes, then met up with their guests to go to lunch. I discovered that it only takes a brief witnessing of parent/child interaction at your child's school to reaffirm the belief that perhaps you are not doing such a bad job at being a parent after all. The mother that sat beside me at the lunch table had brought a younger child with her who was perhaps three years old. Her kindergarten son and three year old daughter spent most of the time at lunch throwing things back and forth at one another while the mom begged them in a whiny voice to stop.
The parents of the child who sat across from us had packed their child's lunch - and what a healthy alternative they had offered him in place of the cafeteria lunch: The kid had a vat of cheese spread and a roll of crackers. The tub of cheese spread was the kind you get when you order from a school fundraiser - - probably enough for ten people to easily share it - - yet here was this five-year old boy, happily consuming 100 grams of fat in one sitting. Toward the end of the meal, he said to his dad, "I want some of your applesauce," then without hesitation, proceeded to dip his index and middle finger onto his dad's tray into the applesauce and shovel it into his mouth. His dad simply said, "here's my spoon if you want some," as he handed him a utensil to use.
The funny thing is, when I have volunteered in Aleita's classroom, I find that most of these kids are actually fairly well-behaved and pretty nice little kids. When I used to teach elementary school, I often noticed the same thing - - kids will usually live up to whatever set of expectations are provided to them. I had many parents that wondered why their child would behave so much better for me than they would for them. My five-year old is certainly no angel, but you can be sure that if she took her fingers and dipped them into the food on my plate, I would be sure to give her something - though I doubt it would be a spoon.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
LAST ONE THERE IS . . . .
Today, Chris and I drove separately to church because I had chimes practice 1/2 hour before Sunday School. (yes - we drove both cars the whole two blocks to the church - - it was raining, cut us some slack!)
After church, Aleita decided to ride home with me, and Maggie with Chris. Aleita, ever the competitor, said to me, "Hurry up, Mommy! Beat them home!!" She was ever-so-impatient with me as I did the responsible-mom thing and made sure she was properly buckled into her seat belt.
Rotten chicken....rotten egg.....so close.
After church, Aleita decided to ride home with me, and Maggie with Chris. Aleita, ever the competitor, said to me, "Hurry up, Mommy! Beat them home!!" She was ever-so-impatient with me as I did the responsible-mom thing and made sure she was properly buckled into her seat belt.
As if to provide additional incentive to me, she yelled, "C'mon! The last one home's a rotten chicken!!"
Rotten chicken....rotten egg.....so close.
(By the way, we ended up as the "rotten chickens." They beat us home.)
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
SUZI HOMEMAKER
Thanks to my friend Michelle for sending me this link. This commercial seems so antiquated, yet if my older daughter saw this, she would want every single thing mentioned.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rAiii4LA3k
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rAiii4LA3k
Thursday, October 29, 2009
WAL-MART - - THE PLACE THAT REALLY DOES HAVE IT ALL
My mom has often referred to Wal-Mart as the "gettin' place" because you can get just about anything there. Gettin' place, indeed. I was listening to a news program on the radio yesterday on my way home from work. One of the news items they mentioned is that Wal-Mart, corporate giant extraordinare, is now selling caskets online. Yes, you read correctly - - the nation's best known big box store is now hawking specially priced coffins for those discount-minded folks that want to lay their love ones to rest without blowing the bank.
I visited Wal-Mart's website and browsed through their selection of caskets which range in price from $895 to $2,899. The "site to store" option is not available for caskets....you have to have it shipped directly to your home. I suppose it would be awkward to go to the service desk to pick up a 250 pound steel coffin anyway. How embarrassing to have to wheel out Grandma's final resting place past the softener salt display and the people buying their groceries. Knowing my luck, I would probably get the cart with the janky wheel and end up accidently smashing it into the shampoo display outside the Wal-Mart Smartstyle Hair Salon.
I was also curious about shipping time. The Wal-Mart site says that it can take 24 - 48 hours to process the order before it is shipped, and it quoted total time until delivery as anywhere between 2 - 5 days. Some questions come to mind:
1) Where does the dearly-departed hang out until their burial chamber arrives?
2) How would you make funeral arrangements if you are unsure when the casket will arrive? Does the newspaper obituary read: "Funeral time TBA, pending casket arrival."
3) Often when someone dies, the loved ones are so grief-stricken that they have trouble putting together the arrangements. In order to facilitate the soonest arrival possible of the casket, do they have to dry their tears, get online, pick out a casket, then resume grieving?
4) Some people make their own funeral preparations ahead of time which saves money, expedites the process, and doesn't leave loved ones having to deal with arrangements while they are racked with grief. Would it be considered odd to order your own casket from Wal-Mart and keep it in the basement until needed?
Finally, I am wondering what others would think of you if then knew you ordered the dearly departed's casket from Wal-Mart. Would they think you as prudent and savvy or cheap and callus? Would they applaud your decision to be budget conscious in these lean times, or would they whisper viciously to each other during the funeral service about what a skinflint you are?
Oh yes - - and would the casket have one of those sunshine yellow happy faces emblazoned on the side?
I visited Wal-Mart's website and browsed through their selection of caskets which range in price from $895 to $2,899. The "site to store" option is not available for caskets....you have to have it shipped directly to your home. I suppose it would be awkward to go to the service desk to pick up a 250 pound steel coffin anyway. How embarrassing to have to wheel out Grandma's final resting place past the softener salt display and the people buying their groceries. Knowing my luck, I would probably get the cart with the janky wheel and end up accidently smashing it into the shampoo display outside the Wal-Mart Smartstyle Hair Salon.
I was also curious about shipping time. The Wal-Mart site says that it can take 24 - 48 hours to process the order before it is shipped, and it quoted total time until delivery as anywhere between 2 - 5 days. Some questions come to mind:
1) Where does the dearly-departed hang out until their burial chamber arrives?
2) How would you make funeral arrangements if you are unsure when the casket will arrive? Does the newspaper obituary read: "Funeral time TBA, pending casket arrival."
3) Often when someone dies, the loved ones are so grief-stricken that they have trouble putting together the arrangements. In order to facilitate the soonest arrival possible of the casket, do they have to dry their tears, get online, pick out a casket, then resume grieving?
4) Some people make their own funeral preparations ahead of time which saves money, expedites the process, and doesn't leave loved ones having to deal with arrangements while they are racked with grief. Would it be considered odd to order your own casket from Wal-Mart and keep it in the basement until needed?
Finally, I am wondering what others would think of you if then knew you ordered the dearly departed's casket from Wal-Mart. Would they think you as prudent and savvy or cheap and callus? Would they applaud your decision to be budget conscious in these lean times, or would they whisper viciously to each other during the funeral service about what a skinflint you are?
Oh yes - - and would the casket have one of those sunshine yellow happy faces emblazoned on the side?
If you would like to check out Wal-Mart's casket
selection, here is the link.
Friday, October 23, 2009
WHAT ARE YOU BUYING? HMM . . . . DEPENDS . ..
I was at Target a few nights ago picking up a some things and got in line to check out. There were only a few people ahead of me, so the line was moving right along. Still, it was the end of the day and I was tired, and I caught myself staring wistfully at the Starbucks as I moved forward in line. The Starbucks is, of course, located strategically just beyond the checkout so that even if I wasn't thinking about wanting one, by the time I leave Target, I always do. I had to remind myself that I would be eating as soon as I got home, and didn't really need the extra few hundred calories from a Chai Latte.
As I was standing there, my thousand-yard-stare was interrupted by the man in front of me saying, "These aren't for me."
I blinked, focused, and looked at him to see what he was talking about. He was a guy in his early 40s, and was standing there very uncomfortably holding a package of adult diapers and waiting for his turn in line.
I hadn't actually noticed that he was holding a package of Depends until he pointed it out. Dude - two words for you - What. Ever. I am a complete stranger that you will never likely see again. Why feel compelled to tell me that you will not be using the disposable drawers you're toting around Target?
I missed a few beats while I took all this in. Finally, I very profoundly answered him: "OK," I said.
Perhaps an "OK" wasn't what he was looking for. Maybe he wanted me to tell him that I too shop at Target all the time for adult diapers for someone other than myself. He was apparently so hyper-sensitive about it that he felt obligated to further explain.
"These are for my father," he said. "He lives with my wife and me - has for past six months. These are for him."
He obviously wasn't going to let this go, but I didn't really know what else to say to him about the matter. Somehow, "good for you!" or "how about that!" didn't really seem appropriate.
Instead, I decided to try to add a little levity to the situation. I held up the package of Batman underwear I was buying for Aleita and said, "These aren't for me. They're for my daughter."
He just looked at me for a moment, rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly as if to say 'whatever' and turned back around. It was soon his turn to go through the cashier's line.
After his chattiness, I was a little surprised. I then quickly realized that he thought I was making fun of him, like "Yeah, those Depends are for your dad like these underpants are for my daughter. Right." I thought about trying to explain that my five-year old daughter is really into boy stuff -- superheroes, action figures, Power Rangers....thus, the Batman underwear. Then I thought, "who cares?"
As I was standing there, my thousand-yard-stare was interrupted by the man in front of me saying, "These aren't for me."
I blinked, focused, and looked at him to see what he was talking about. He was a guy in his early 40s, and was standing there very uncomfortably holding a package of adult diapers and waiting for his turn in line.
I hadn't actually noticed that he was holding a package of Depends until he pointed it out. Dude - two words for you - What. Ever. I am a complete stranger that you will never likely see again. Why feel compelled to tell me that you will not be using the disposable drawers you're toting around Target?
I missed a few beats while I took all this in. Finally, I very profoundly answered him: "OK," I said.
Perhaps an "OK" wasn't what he was looking for. Maybe he wanted me to tell him that I too shop at Target all the time for adult diapers for someone other than myself. He was apparently so hyper-sensitive about it that he felt obligated to further explain.
"These are for my father," he said. "He lives with my wife and me - has for past six months. These are for him."
He obviously wasn't going to let this go, but I didn't really know what else to say to him about the matter. Somehow, "good for you!" or "how about that!" didn't really seem appropriate.
Instead, I decided to try to add a little levity to the situation. I held up the package of Batman underwear I was buying for Aleita and said, "These aren't for me. They're for my daughter."
He just looked at me for a moment, rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly as if to say 'whatever' and turned back around. It was soon his turn to go through the cashier's line.
After his chattiness, I was a little surprised. I then quickly realized that he thought I was making fun of him, like "Yeah, those Depends are for your dad like these underpants are for my daughter. Right." I thought about trying to explain that my five-year old daughter is really into boy stuff -- superheroes, action figures, Power Rangers....thus, the Batman underwear. Then I thought, "who cares?"
GUY FROM THE LINE IN TARGET - -
IF YOU ARE READING THIS,
JUST KNOW THAT IT IS OK - - I BELIEVE YOU!
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
MR. BASS MAN
Dear Mr. Bass Man,
I know you think that when you drive by with your car stereo thumpin' and people turn their heads to look at you, that it somehow means that they are very galvanized with you and your bitchin' stereo system. You seem to feel that we are all in awe of the fact that you can make our windows rattle from 100 feet away with your woofers or tweeters or flippers or waffles or whatever those impressive stereo components are called. It also seems that the louder your music is turned up, the lower you slide in your seat in the car. Sometimes I can barely see you over the dash because you have the seat tilted so far down. Perhaps all the vibration from the bass is weakening your muscular system and causing you to have the inability to remain upright. The same thing happened to my great aunt, but I think hers was caused by calcium deprivation. She could hardly see over the steering wheel in her car either.
I want to let you in on a little secret though, Mr. Bass Man. There is a reason that you never see any women driving a loud, bass booming car and sitting all tilted back in the seat. It is because we think you are ridiculous. We have no desire for our ears to bleed simply by taking a ride in the car. In fact, we find it kind of amusing that your stereo system obviously cost more than the car you are driving. Were you that kid in school that the teacher always wrote on your report card, "seeks attention in inappropriate ways."? I'll be willing to bet you were.
I know, I know....you are working hard to forge a certain image for yourself so that others will see you as a rulebreaker or a badass. You are just trying to carve out your niche and prove you are worthy of notice. But, when you are thirty years old and struggling with hearing loss and realize that you already need a hearing aid, just recall your glory days of cruising around in your rusty Cavalier with the bass a thump-thump-thumpin' and think about how cool you looked all tilted back in the seat with your hand draped over the steering wheel. I am sure you will think that it was all worth it.
I know you think that when you drive by with your car stereo thumpin' and people turn their heads to look at you, that it somehow means that they are very galvanized with you and your bitchin' stereo system. You seem to feel that we are all in awe of the fact that you can make our windows rattle from 100 feet away with your woofers or tweeters or flippers or waffles or whatever those impressive stereo components are called. It also seems that the louder your music is turned up, the lower you slide in your seat in the car. Sometimes I can barely see you over the dash because you have the seat tilted so far down. Perhaps all the vibration from the bass is weakening your muscular system and causing you to have the inability to remain upright. The same thing happened to my great aunt, but I think hers was caused by calcium deprivation. She could hardly see over the steering wheel in her car either.
I want to let you in on a little secret though, Mr. Bass Man. There is a reason that you never see any women driving a loud, bass booming car and sitting all tilted back in the seat. It is because we think you are ridiculous. We have no desire for our ears to bleed simply by taking a ride in the car. In fact, we find it kind of amusing that your stereo system obviously cost more than the car you are driving. Were you that kid in school that the teacher always wrote on your report card, "seeks attention in inappropriate ways."? I'll be willing to bet you were.
I know, I know....you are working hard to forge a certain image for yourself so that others will see you as a rulebreaker or a badass. You are just trying to carve out your niche and prove you are worthy of notice. But, when you are thirty years old and struggling with hearing loss and realize that you already need a hearing aid, just recall your glory days of cruising around in your rusty Cavalier with the bass a thump-thump-thumpin' and think about how cool you looked all tilted back in the seat with your hand draped over the steering wheel. I am sure you will think that it was all worth it.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
QUARANTINED!
Greetings from the Leper Colony. Today was a relatively good day - - though there was still lots of hacking and coughing and blowing of noses, it was the first time in a week that no one was running a fever.
For those of you who don't live in the neighborhood and haven't driven by and seen the big, flashing "PLAGUE" sign posted on the house, we are in isolation mode at the Hale household. A trip to the doctor yesterday resulted in a diagnosis of H1N1 for three of four Hales - - and also one of pneumonia for Maggie. Our kitchen counter now resembles a small pharmacy.
The fourth Hale (me) now has several new exciting hobbies, including drug dispensing, constant surface disinfecting, near-compulsive hand-washing, and putting my hand on my head to check for fever every time I sneeze.
The doctor said that if everyone is fever free over the weekend, they can return to their lives on Monday. Hope springs eternal that I will avoid this illness altogether. If not, at least I will have the couch to myself.
For those of you who don't live in the neighborhood and haven't driven by and seen the big, flashing "PLAGUE" sign posted on the house, we are in isolation mode at the Hale household. A trip to the doctor yesterday resulted in a diagnosis of H1N1 for three of four Hales - - and also one of pneumonia for Maggie. Our kitchen counter now resembles a small pharmacy.
The fourth Hale (me) now has several new exciting hobbies, including drug dispensing, constant surface disinfecting, near-compulsive hand-washing, and putting my hand on my head to check for fever every time I sneeze.
The doctor said that if everyone is fever free over the weekend, they can return to their lives on Monday. Hope springs eternal that I will avoid this illness altogether. If not, at least I will have the couch to myself.
Friday, October 16, 2009
A WEE BIT
Today I was eating lunch in Panera and I went to use the restroom. It was a two hole joint, and I opted for the non-handicapped facility. The water was running in the bowl as the toilet filled from a recent flush from a prior occupant. As I went to close the stall door, I noticed a dribble ring all over the seat. I quickly opened the door that I had begun to close and spied the culprit at the sink, washing her hands.
"Hmm...," I thought, "she can urinate all over the seat, but still belongs to the clean-hands club. Interesting..."
Said I, "Did you just come out of this stall?"
Said she, "Yes. Why?
Said I, "Because you peed all over the seat."
Said she, "I did?!?" (sounding all shocked and pious...c'mon....really??? You knew you did!! If you want to squat, fine.... but don't act all superior when someone calls you on your seat shower.)
Embarrassed, her cheeks turned pink. I gave her "the look" (it's similar to the "mom" look, but has a "whatever, bitch" attached to it) and proceeded into the handicapped stall. I was amazed to notice that she did indeed go into her previously desecrated stall and wipe up her mess. She then exited the bathroom. I know she was probably indignant, but it wasn't exactly a moment that she could go gripe about to her friends.
"Hmm...," I thought, "she can urinate all over the seat, but still belongs to the clean-hands club. Interesting..."
Said I, "Did you just come out of this stall?"
Said she, "Yes. Why?
Said I, "Because you peed all over the seat."
Said she, "I did?!?" (sounding all shocked and pious...c'mon....really??? You knew you did!! If you want to squat, fine.... but don't act all superior when someone calls you on your seat shower.)
Embarrassed, her cheeks turned pink. I gave her "the look" (it's similar to the "mom" look, but has a "whatever, bitch" attached to it) and proceeded into the handicapped stall. I was amazed to notice that she did indeed go into her previously desecrated stall and wipe up her mess. She then exited the bathroom. I know she was probably indignant, but it wasn't exactly a moment that she could go gripe about to her friends.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
GOING AROUND
Maggie and Aleita have both had the creeping crud this week. By creeping crud, I mean the flu. It's that thing that's "going around." Ask anyone. If I mention to someone that the kids are sick, they feel compelled to tell me that it is "going around."
Me: The kids have both been sick this week. They have really high fevers and coughing and snotty noses.
Random Someone: Yeah. It's going around.
I think there are also several people in a competition (that no one wants to win) to see whose school district can have more kids out sick.
Me: The kids have both been sick this week. They have really high fevers and coughing and snotty noses.
Random Someone: Yeah. There were a million and a half kids gone from school today. It's going around.
The kids have begun to open their mouths like baby birds as I drop Tylenol and Motrin into their waiting maws. We have gone through a veritable forest of tissues this week. Their little noses are sore from all the blowing.
Aleita was sick from Sunday night through yesterday. She did go back to school today. She still has a cough, but was fever free all day yesterday. I could tell she felt better yesterday too - she spent Monday - Wednesday lying in the big chair in the living room and watching T.V. She would occasionally get down on the living room floor and spread out a game, but she would mostly just lie on the floor and look at it, rather than actually play it. Anyone who knows Aleita and her normal energy level knows that this behavior is quite a deviation from the norm.
Maggie still isn't back to school, and won't be tomorrow either. She continues to run a fever, though it is at least low-grade now. She still has body aches and a cough and is just overall, very lethargic. She stayed at Grandma's house today and is going there tomorrow as well. Even feeling crummy, Maggie was happy to go to Grandma's house. After all, convalescing at Grandma's is far superior to convalescing at home. When Aleita found out that Maggie got to Grandma's today, she had much sympathy for her sister's continued illness, noting, "NO FAIR!! When I was sick, I had to stay home!"
I have been waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop all week and for Chris and I to become the next victims. My hope is that the flu shots we received a month ago are of this strain and we will avoid the ick that has plagued the kids. (The kids got their flu shots too, but only a week ago, and it takes about two weeks for the shot to work.) Even so, every time I blow my nose or feel a slight twinge of discomfort, I put a hand to my head to check for fever and think, "Oh crap! I'm getting it!!" It wouldn't surprise me. It's going around, you know.
THIS WOULD HAVE COME IN HANDY THIS WEEK
Me: The kids have both been sick this week. They have really high fevers and coughing and snotty noses.
Random Someone: Yeah. It's going around.
I think there are also several people in a competition (that no one wants to win) to see whose school district can have more kids out sick.
Me: The kids have both been sick this week. They have really high fevers and coughing and snotty noses.
Random Someone: Yeah. There were a million and a half kids gone from school today. It's going around.
The kids have begun to open their mouths like baby birds as I drop Tylenol and Motrin into their waiting maws. We have gone through a veritable forest of tissues this week. Their little noses are sore from all the blowing.
Aleita was sick from Sunday night through yesterday. She did go back to school today. She still has a cough, but was fever free all day yesterday. I could tell she felt better yesterday too - she spent Monday - Wednesday lying in the big chair in the living room and watching T.V. She would occasionally get down on the living room floor and spread out a game, but she would mostly just lie on the floor and look at it, rather than actually play it. Anyone who knows Aleita and her normal energy level knows that this behavior is quite a deviation from the norm.
Maggie still isn't back to school, and won't be tomorrow either. She continues to run a fever, though it is at least low-grade now. She still has body aches and a cough and is just overall, very lethargic. She stayed at Grandma's house today and is going there tomorrow as well. Even feeling crummy, Maggie was happy to go to Grandma's house. After all, convalescing at Grandma's is far superior to convalescing at home. When Aleita found out that Maggie got to Grandma's today, she had much sympathy for her sister's continued illness, noting, "NO FAIR!! When I was sick, I had to stay home!"
I have been waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop all week and for Chris and I to become the next victims. My hope is that the flu shots we received a month ago are of this strain and we will avoid the ick that has plagued the kids. (The kids got their flu shots too, but only a week ago, and it takes about two weeks for the shot to work.) Even so, every time I blow my nose or feel a slight twinge of discomfort, I put a hand to my head to check for fever and think, "Oh crap! I'm getting it!!" It wouldn't surprise me. It's going around, you know.
THIS WOULD HAVE COME IN HANDY THIS WEEK
Thursday, October 8, 2009
BEAUTY EMERGENCY
A few days ago, I was in the bathroom fixing Aleita’s hair in the morning before school. She had been in her bedroom playing with her Tinkerbell cellphone before I called her to get her hair done. She brought her phone along with her into the bathroom and played with it while I began combing through her hair.
With Aleita’s hair, she has two usual styles – braids or afro-puffs. Each has its unique advantages and disadvantages. The disadvantage to braids is that they take a lot longer to put them in and take them out, thus requiring more time to sit still. The advantage to braids is that in the morning, they are much faster than puffs because all we have to do is put hair oil between the rows. The advantage to afro-puffs is that they are much quicker to put in and take out than braids, but every morning, I take each of them out of the band (usually 2 or 4 puffs) and comb through them and oil her scalp, then put the puff back in. I will add here that two things Aleita hates are standing still and having her hair combed.
The following dialogue took place on her Tinkerbell phone (keep in mind that every time she pushes a button on the phone, Tinkerbell responds with a few different messages):
Aleita: Hello, 9-1-1?
Tinkerbell: What beautiful wings you have!
Aleita: Yes, I would like to report something bad.
Tinkerbell: Do you want to come fly with me?
Aleita: This woman here keeps pulling my hair. I need you to come and arrest her.
Tinkerbell: You would make such a good fairy!
Aleita: She won’t let me go eat breakfast. She just keeps making me stand here.
Tinkerbell: What beautiful wings you have!
Aleita: She just pulled my hair again.
Tinkerbell: You would make such a good fairy!
Aleita: OK – I’ll tell her. Mommy, they said you need to stop or they’ll come arrest you.
We did manage to finish up her ‘do, get breakfast, and get on with the day. The police never did show up to haul me in my “crimes.” Next time, I may not be so lucky. If I get hooked up for excessive hair pulling, starving my children, and inciting extreme boredom, I hope one of you will come bail me out.
With Aleita’s hair, she has two usual styles – braids or afro-puffs. Each has its unique advantages and disadvantages. The disadvantage to braids is that they take a lot longer to put them in and take them out, thus requiring more time to sit still. The advantage to braids is that in the morning, they are much faster than puffs because all we have to do is put hair oil between the rows. The advantage to afro-puffs is that they are much quicker to put in and take out than braids, but every morning, I take each of them out of the band (usually 2 or 4 puffs) and comb through them and oil her scalp, then put the puff back in. I will add here that two things Aleita hates are standing still and having her hair combed.
ALEITA IN BRAIDS 
ALEITA IN AFRO-PUFFS
Given, the word “patience” is not often uttered in the same sentence as “Aleita,” and this morning was no exception. Her hair was in puffs, and she was in no mood to stand still and have her hair combed. She continued to play with her Tinkerbell phone as I did her hair, sparing no opportunity to convey her impatience with the beautification process. After an unfortunate tough hair snag, she said, “I’m calling 9-1-1 on you!”
The following dialogue took place on her Tinkerbell phone (keep in mind that every time she pushes a button on the phone, Tinkerbell responds with a few different messages):
Aleita: Hello, 9-1-1?
Tinkerbell: What beautiful wings you have!
Aleita: Yes, I would like to report something bad.
Tinkerbell: Do you want to come fly with me?
Aleita: This woman here keeps pulling my hair. I need you to come and arrest her.
Tinkerbell: You would make such a good fairy!
Aleita: She won’t let me go eat breakfast. She just keeps making me stand here.
Tinkerbell: What beautiful wings you have!
Aleita: She just pulled my hair again.
Tinkerbell: You would make such a good fairy!
Aleita: OK – I’ll tell her. Mommy, they said you need to stop or they’ll come arrest you.
We did manage to finish up her ‘do, get breakfast, and get on with the day. The police never did show up to haul me in my “crimes.” Next time, I may not be so lucky. If I get hooked up for excessive hair pulling, starving my children, and inciting extreme boredom, I hope one of you will come bail me out.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
HELL IN A HANDBASKET
Aleita stayed home sick from school yesterday. It was nothing too serious - - she woke up in the night snotty and coughing, and in the morning, she was wheezing quite a bit. She was visibly tired in the morning, and so I thought it best just to keep her home and make sure it didn’t turn into anything worse. She spent most of the day laying around and not doing very much – we played lots of games and she watched some movies.
I quickly switched the TV off, but apparently, not soon enough. Having been schooled about “hell” by her older sister, Aleita is familiar with the concept of the fiery down-below, so that word immediately caught her attention. Aleita said to me, “what does that mean?” I explained that it meant that things were really bad and they probably weren’t going to get any better anytime soon. I added, “It’s just something that grownups say sometimes.” I then changed the subject and asked her if she wanted to come help me with what I was working on. Aleita loves to be a helper, so she gladly agreed.
My project at that moment was stripping the wallpaper in the back entry hall. Fun stuff, I know. To a five-year old though, it was a grand venture. I gave her the scoring tool and she gladly made designs all over the wall with it while I worked on soaking the wall with DIF and stripping off the wallpaper that had apparently been applied with industrial-strength glue. After an hour with not very much progress, I sighed disgustedly and said, “UGGGHHH… This is a nightmare!”
She said, “What’s wrong?”
I told her that whoever had put the wallpaper up had done a very bad job, and it was going to take a very long time to take it all down. I also showed her where the wall had some damage that had been covered up by the wallpaper, but now I was going to have to figure out how to deal with it. I told her that it was just a lot worse than I thought it was going to be.
She looked at the holes in the wall and the wallpaper mess and then exclaimed, “this is going to hell in a hamper!”
Handbasket….hamper….so close….though stripping wallpaper is enough to make almost anyone agree that it is a project straight from hell. She was quite right about that.
At one point in the afternoon after she had finished a movie, I turned the DVD player off and changed the source on the television from the setting used for the DVD player back to the one where you can watch regular TV. Playing on regular TV at that moment was one of the afternoon soaps.
Before I even had a moment to react, the woman on the show said to her companion, “This whole thing has gone to hell in a handbasket.” He responded to her, “What did you just say?” and she said (again), “You heard me….this has gone to hell in a handbasket.”
I quickly switched the TV off, but apparently, not soon enough. Having been schooled about “hell” by her older sister, Aleita is familiar with the concept of the fiery down-below, so that word immediately caught her attention. Aleita said to me, “what does that mean?” I explained that it meant that things were really bad and they probably weren’t going to get any better anytime soon. I added, “It’s just something that grownups say sometimes.” I then changed the subject and asked her if she wanted to come help me with what I was working on. Aleita loves to be a helper, so she gladly agreed.
My project at that moment was stripping the wallpaper in the back entry hall. Fun stuff, I know. To a five-year old though, it was a grand venture. I gave her the scoring tool and she gladly made designs all over the wall with it while I worked on soaking the wall with DIF and stripping off the wallpaper that had apparently been applied with industrial-strength glue. After an hour with not very much progress, I sighed disgustedly and said, “UGGGHHH… This is a nightmare!”
She said, “What’s wrong?”
I told her that whoever had put the wallpaper up had done a very bad job, and it was going to take a very long time to take it all down. I also showed her where the wall had some damage that had been covered up by the wallpaper, but now I was going to have to figure out how to deal with it. I told her that it was just a lot worse than I thought it was going to be.
She looked at the holes in the wall and the wallpaper mess and then exclaimed, “this is going to hell in a hamper!”
Handbasket….hamper….so close….though stripping wallpaper is enough to make almost anyone agree that it is a project straight from hell. She was quite right about that.
HEADED STRAIGHT TO HELL......IN A HAMPER
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
HEY SWEETIE!
“Here’s your change, sweetie,” said the clerk to me at the gas station this morning as she handed me back the difference. I collected my change and seriously fought the urge to say, “thanks, sugar.” She was all of maybe nineteen years old….and she had just called me “sweetie.” (though I’m sure that is also how she addressed the guy behind me, and the lady behind him.)
Honey….sweetie…..sugar….
I have to admit that it gets on my nerves to be referred to by one of these terms of endearment by someone I don’t know - - though it seems to annoy me more when it is by someone who was born about the time I was graduating from high school. Does this bother anyone else? 
Honey….sweetie…..sugar….
I have to admit that it gets on my nerves to be referred to by one of these terms of endearment by someone I don’t know - - though it seems to annoy me more when it is by someone who was born about the time I was graduating from high school. Does this bother anyone else?
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