This is a piece I wrote earlier this week. I have it in my portfolio, but thought you, my regular blog readers would like to see it. Enjoy!

"Ha! I win again! In your face!"

I lost yet another game of chess to my husband, Michael. This usually mild-mannered, gentle-giant of a man sat across from me gloating over his win. I flashed-back to all the other times he had beaten me at various activities from board games to miniature golf. There was no denying that he is definitely a poor winner.

The best illustration of his competitve nature was the time my daughter received Mr. Bucket for Christmas. We took the game to our kitchen so Mr. Bucket could spin freely and shoot the balls across the floor. As my daughter, nephew and I stood ready with our little scoopers, my husband started the game. Mr. Bucket spun around and shot out the first ball - mine. As I bent over to scoop it up, Michael whacked it across the room. He did that with each ball that shot out of Mr. Bucket's mouth that wasn't his. I tried to get between his six foot five inch, two hundred and fifteen pound frame and Mr. Bucket, but was promptly 'butt checked' by Michael. I flew across the room. My nephew and I tried desperately to chase after the balls and get them to the bucket before Michael, but failed miserably. Michael won and stood triumphant with Mr. Bucket held high over his head - looking for applause. My poor daughter, freaked out by the whole incident, stood in the corner of the kitchen watching with wide-eyes and the scooper in her hand - unused. She never played with Mr. Bucket after that. To this day, she has an aversion to anything bucket-shaped.

The following Christmas it was the board game Don't Wake Daddy. Again, the sheer competitveness of Michael shined through.

"You can't beat me! I win again! You two are LOO-OO-SERS!"

Then came Uno. My husband became so competitve with this game that we had to discontinue playing it. The arguments created during the game carried over into everyday life. We gave each other the silent treatment for days after a rousing match.

Next we tried Five Hundred Rummie. Michael turned it into the Superbowl of Card Games. During one of our matches I realized he made up rules. I had to buy a Hoyle Book of Card Games to prove him wrong on several of his 'rules'. Again, another game that we couldn't play with him.

His obnoxius behavior is displayed each time he wins anything. The times when my daughter or I beat him, he automatically gives the classic whiner excuses of, "You cheated!" or "I wasn't ready yet!"

Of course we can't hear him because we're too busy doing our victory dance in the middle of the room. Beating Michael and being more obnoxious than him has become our new family game.
 

"It's like I always say, life's too short to root for losers," I overheard my husband telling my daughter after the Phillies lost to the Rockies.

My husband has various words to live by. Here's a short list of "Mic-isms":

1. Dust Never Sleeps: This he spews in reference to dusting the house. "Why are you dusting now? I just dusted everything yesterday," I ask when I see him heading for the furniture polish. His answer is always the same: Dust never sleeps.

2. Go to sleep with wet hair and wake-up with a cold: This is for my daughter who likes to let her hair air-dry rather than use a hairdryer. It's his warning to her, which she uses to her advantage the next morning when she wakes-up and doesn't feel like going to school. "I think I have a cold", she'll say, and my husband, not seeing her faking for what it is, says, "I told you that would happen. You went to bed with wet hair." He thinks this is proof that his 'old saying' is proven correct.

3. A tissue in one nostril helps you breathe better when you have a cold: I can't tell you how many times I have looked at my husband and seen a tissue sticking-out of his nose. It is a ridiculous sight. He has his pathetic "I'm sick" face, and then this white fluff of tissue is sticking-out of his nose. I once mentioned this strange habit in the presence of his family, thinking they would laugh. They didn't. Turns out, they practice the tissue up the nostril method also. I'm not sure if they thought of it first, or if they heard it from my husband.

4. Don't think - it will give you a headache: I hear this when my husband and daughter are making some kind of noise and I tell them "Be quiet. I can't think."

5. Cold hands, cold heart: I tried to explain this is wrong, but it never seems to register. I've given-up trying to correct him.

There you have it!

Who knew that my husband could be so profound?



 

I should listen to my intuition.

The day before my appointment with the auto body shop to replace my driver's side mirror after my 'incident' last week, my intuition kept saying to call and make sure my mirror was ready to be installed. The mirror had to be ordered and then painted. (When I made the appointment, I gave the body shop technician my car's color and trim number so it could be painted.)

I didn't listen to it and trusted that everything would be okay. How wrong I was.

When I arrived, Steve, the manager, approached me. "Can I help you?" he asked. I told him I was there to have a mirror installed. "Do you have an appointment?" he asked suspicously. When I tell him that I called last week, he looks surprised and runs to the appointment book. "I see your name, but I don't even know where your mirror is. Let me check around."

After a fifteen minute search of the shop he says, "I have your mirror, but it's not painted. Are you leaving your car here for it to be put on?" "No, it was supposed to be painted and all ready to go" I inform him.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience. Can you come back tomorrow and we'll have it ready for you?" he asks. "Yes" I answered slightly annoyed.

This morning I will be hanging out at the auto body shop. Something I hate to do. There's no television or radio, While Steve searched for my mirror, I looked at the magazine selection. All of them were for motorheads. I came across a People magazine, but it was the Spanish version. Speaking Spanish is a skill I lack. I sat and stared out the window.

The lesson here is that I should listen to my intuition. Had I called the day before, like my intuition told me to, I wouldn't have to go back again today. That little voice was so right.

 

My mother just left this week's grocery list on my answering machine. It sounds more like a scavenger hunt list than a grocery list.

A few weeks ago she had Cascade on her list. "I want the Cascade for washing dishes, but not the one for dishwashers."

Last time I checked, Cascade was dish washing liquid for dishwashers. So, I called her to find out what it was that she really wanted.

"Cascade makes a dish liquid for washing dishes without a dishwasher. You have to look for it, but they do make it."

Okay. Off to the supermarket to find this new product. I stood in the dish liquid aisle scanning the bright colored liquids until my eyes fell on the Cascade section. Every bottle was for cleaning dishes in a dishwasher. I walk away empty-handed. When I deliver the groceries I tell my mother they didn't have her Cascade, only for dishwashers. She informs me that I was looking at the right thing and I should have bought it. "Now what am I going to do all week without dish liquid?" The added guilt-trip was a nice touch on her part I thought.

Next week Cascade is on the list again. This time I buy the nearest bottle satisfied that I had gotten what she wanted. I deliver it and everything is great. "Good. That's exactly what I wanted." I point out that it says right on the bottle that it's for dishwashers, but she stands firm in her belief that this is for washing dishes without a dishwasher. Three days later she leaves her shopping list on my answering machine with the added comment, "you have to get me some kind of dish liquid. This Cascade you got me is for dishwashers. I can't use it."

This is where I went temporarily insane and began banging my head on the nearest wall.

The following week she wanted Easy-off oven cleaner. "I want the kind that doesn't have fumes." Fine. I go to the cleaning products aisle and stare at the oven cleaners. There are only two types of Easy-off; one in a blue can and one in a yellow can. I buy the one that says "fume free" right on the can. I deliver the groceries and head home. Once inside the door, the phone rings. It's my mother telling my answer machine that I bought the wrong kind of oven cleaner. "You got this and it's not what I wanted. I wanted the fume free kind" I pick up the phone and tell her I got the fume free Easy-off. I also tell her there are only two types of Easy-off. "Well, it must be the other one then because this is wrong."

One week her list had the item "toilet doodads". I'm at the supermarket more than twice a week, and I don't remember seeing anything labeled as "toilet doodads" - ever. Once again I need clarification on what she truly means. "Those things you hang on the side of the toilet bowl." "Do you mean toilet deodorizers?" I ask, showing-off my product knowledge. "Whatever they're called, that's what I need", she answers completely unimpressed by me.

Another time there was "house spray" on her list, which when translated is air freshener. These are just examples of how she butchers cleaning products. She's just as bad when it comes to food items. Here's a short list:

- baby-shit mustard - French's Yellow Mustard
- stove-pipes - rigatoni
- cream cheese in the tub, but not the kind you spread - ? (I still haven't figured this one out)
- chicken a la king - chicken chow mein - I don't know what her problem with this one is. Somehow, I'm supposed to know what she really wants.

I just checked this week's list. "I want Hollandaise sauce, but not the one that you usually get me - the other one." Okay. I can see I'll be spending a good part of my Saturday hunting down the elusive "Hollandaise".


 

Even though I poke fun at my husband, I really do love him. I figure he must REALLY love me since he hasn't thrown me out of the house after my recent misadventures. With that in mind, I began to think of the many different ways that I show him I love him. I wanted to do an inventory for my own peace of mind.

Here's what I came up with:

1. I clean your nose hairs out of the bathroom sink.
2. I laugh at your 'not so funny' jokes the first hundred times I hear them (after that - no holds barred!)
3. I don't bother you when you watch every football game, football highlight show and football analysis show.
4. I pick-up your dirty underwear and socks from the bedroom floor - YUCK!
5. I tell you your man-boobs aren't THAT big.
6. I don't hold my ears when you sing along with the radio (I just put cotton in them!)
7. I know to leave the house whenever you start any home improvement project so you can swear and cuss freely.
8. I still love your tried and true sexual advances. Even your old standby, "Come here - I want to show you something."
9. I listen intently to your work stories even though they all start the same way - "A fat woman came over to me today , , ,
10. I don't complain when you sprint naked from the bathroom to the bedroom after taking a shower.

The order might need a little re-working, but otherwise, this is a pretty good list. In fact, I just may show it to him to remind him that I do love him. On second thought, he's better off not reading this. I'll just have to tell him I love him.
 

The day after my bleach and carpet incident I awoke to a bright sunny day. My husband had recovered from his shock at the size of the bleach stain. We even talked about when we would look at new carpeting. Things were looking up.

But then IT happened.

My daughter and I piled into the car so I could give her a ride to school. As I SLOWLY pulled out of the garage I heard a loud CRUNCH - CRACK - SMASH! The driverside mirror had caught on the side of the garage door and pulled off. Great!

"Oh Mom! Look what you did! You can't hide that from dad" were the words of wisdom from my daughter. Of course she was right. This was bad. This wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't caused a major expense the day before - you know, the carpet incident. If I had a job, it wouldn't have been so bad either.

How would I explain this to my husband?

I slowly trudged to the bedroom where my husband was getting ready for work. He was happily watching Sports Center unaware of what had just happened. Then I broke the bad news.

"What the hell, Vick! You can't just go flying out of the garage. What's wrong with you? First the carpet, now this. We're going to be broke from you and your crap!"

To say that I felt lower than an ant would be an understatement. I went through the day fearful of what I would break, spill, smash or otherwise ruin, next.

Now I am banned from parking in the garage, and my husband is seriously thinking that I have brain damage.

Maybe I inhaled too much bleach.
 

They say "the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry." Well, speaking from personal experience, I know this to be true.

This past week I thought I would give my bathroom a thorough, good old-fashioned cleaning. I diligently gathered my supplies and headed toward the bathroom. I mixed-up a concoction of bleach and water and began the arduous task, making sure to scrub, polish and scrub some more. Satisfied that I had done a great job, I carried my bucket of bleach and water out of the bathroom, making my way to the kitchen to pour the lethal mix down the kitchen sink.

One thing that hadn't occurred to me as I carried the mixture through my living room was how clumsy I am. As I casually walked through the living room, my foot, or feet, - not sure if it was the both of them or not - tripped on the mop that I also carried. I stumbled, lost my grip on the bucket handle and - yep - dropped the bucket of bleach and water.

Panic ran through me - OH NO! Bleach and water on the carpeting - that can't be good. I watched the lethal dose of bleach and water puddle on the carpet. Quickly I grabbed the nearest supply of towels and began soaking up the liquid. I went through a whole stack of dish towels and felt confident that I had gotten most of it out of the carpet. In fact, the carpet was still the same color so I began to think that I had more water than bleach in the bucket. Thinking I had dodged a major bullet, I went about doing other chores around my house.

When I made my way back to the living room, the bleach had done a number on the carpet. There was a huge blotch right smack in the middle of the floor courtesy of the bleach. There was no hiding it, no pretending that I didn't see, and no acting like there wasn't a spot on the carpet. This was way too big.

I decided to call my husband to fess-up. Better to let him know before he comes home than for him to walk into the living room and find it himself.

"Hello Vick" he said cheerfully.
"Hi Michael" I said - not so cheerfully.
"What's wrong?"

After explaining my accident, my husband proceeded to give me a ten minute lecture on being careful with bleach. Biting back my response of "I know you have to be careful!" I listened without comment.

"How big is it? Is it as big as a basketball?" he naively asked.
"Oh it's bigger than that." Why sugar-coat it?

We hung up and I began looking for a throw rug to hide the blotch until we could figure out what to do. Meanwhile, my husband called the carpet warehouse to see if they had any remnants left of the color we needed. After they laughed out loud, they informed my husband that was impossible since we bought the carpet about eight years ago. However, they suggested that we call our insurance agent to see if our homeowner's insurance would cover the accident.

I quickly dialed our agent and much to my surprise, it was a covered accident. Whew! Who knew that clumsiness was covered by homeowner's insurance? I felt this was good news, but my husband saw it differently.

"We still have to pay the $500 deductible, so, how do you figure we saved money?"

I'm still working on an answer to that one.
 

It was a strange feeling waking up this morning. The first thing that popped into my mind was "you don't have a job to go to". What a way to start my day.

The weekend was stressful as my husband is in an extreme freak-out mood. "We're going to lose the house, the car, and you're going to be stuck with a minimum wage job now." He feels I won't be able to get another bank job.

Between you and me - I'm not sure I want another bank job. Banks are becoming more and more strange to work for, and quite frankly, I don't know that I want to be a part of that culture any longer. However, that is all that I've done for the past 22 years of my life. So, getting a job in some other industry could very well mean starting at the bottom of the barrel. I realized, with this last job, that I don't want to be responsible for other people - I'm not crazy about having a staff report to me. Of course, when I mention that to my husband, he has a mini-stroke from the panic that I might not bring in the income that I once did. Don't worry, he'll get over this phase and calm down. I guess I have to allow him this lapse in support - for now anyway.

My daughter is happy that I'm home with her, and the cat is too. And if my husband is honest with himself, he's happy I'm home. The house runs so much smoother when I'm home all day.

So, it's back to the drawing board for me. Regarding my potential greeting card writing career, I contacted my instructor from the two courses that I recently took and gave her my bad news. I forwarded the email that I received and she had a great spin on it. She told me that they did mention that my work was great and that they wanted to see more, so I should believe them and send another set of ideas to them right away, while my work is still fresh in their minds. She even offered to look over the new batch and give me her input - free of charge. How great is that?

Today, and everyday until I find another job, I'm pretending to be a stay-at-home mom. I'll get to walk through the supermarket with all of the senior citizens blocking the aisles with their motorized scooters and zigzag my way through the maze of unruly kids, just to buy a quart of milk.

What fun.

My final thought for the day concerns all of you who wrote such great and supportive comments to my last entry. It was nice to know that I do have some value to others outside of my family. You all made me feel better about what happened and you also made me feel great about being back to my blog. I missed all of you too, and truly loved your comments to me. A great big THANK YOU to all of you.

Hope you all have a great day!
 

Hello everyone -

I was fired on Friday. To be honest with you, it was a bit of a relief. The suspense was killing me. You see, I somehow fell out of favor with my boss and for the past month I got the vibe that she was trying to find a reason to fire me. Everyday I would go to work thinking "today may be the day". So, when it happened, I was mentally prepared for it. I had already packed up my belongings and was set to go when the event actually happened.

I also got a major blow in my selling my writing. Since taking the humor courses I began writing greeting cards. I got the courage to submit seventeen ideas to a small greeting card company that specializes in humorous greeting cards. I had all of my hopes set on selling at least some of my ideas. Well, that all ended last Wednesday. I got the email that gave me the bad news "Although you didn't sell anything this time . . ." As soon as I read that, my heart sank. With everything that was happening to me at work, I still had my writing in the back of my mind. So, I went into my bedroom, closed the door, and preceeded to bawl my eyes out. That hurt me more than all the crap that was going on at work.

Now I'm in the "licking my wounds" department. On the positive side I will have PLENTY of time to write, so you will see me as a regular once again.

It feels good to be back at my blog, and believe me, you will all now become my therapists as I work my way through yet another of life's challenges.

Hope you all have a wonderful day!
 

I just finished my first humor course Funny One from the Long Story Short School. I started Funny Too - the second course in the series, and I'm enjoying it. I'm learning so much about timing, punchlines, exaggeration, etc. all of the things that will give my humorous essays that extra punch. I have gotten some great ideas on how to punch-up some of the essays in my portfolio.

In Funny Too we will be learning different markets and selling different types of humor - not just essays. Right now I'm trying to come-up with jokes for several prompts. Here's one I came up with for the 'target' of Rosie O'Donnell - let me know what you think:

JOKE: I ran into Rosie O'Donnell the other day. You know she's leaving The View, right? I asked her what she would do next. She told me she got a job working with the circus. Apparently the lead elephant died and they needed a replacement.

Can you hear Jay Leno saying that in his nightly monologue? If not, then I better get back to the drawing board.

I haven't forgotten about my Blog, but I do want to learn as much as I can about making my work funnier, snappier.