%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |  Middle-Age Spread is NOT a Condiment!
|
| This is my second attempt at keeping a daily blog. I'm hoping I will be able to enter something everyday, just to keep my creative juices flowing. I plan on writing about my day, and infusing it with my "quirky" way of viewing things. If you read my blog for a few days, you'll see what I'm talking about. I'm in my fifties and see things slightly different than mainstream. Hopefully you will enjoy what you read, and maybe even get a laugh or two along the way. |
| Yesterday was a boring day! My husband insisted that we try to get the old refrigerator fixed. He called a repairman before 8 o'clock in the morning. It turned out to be someone he knows from the company he works for. He said he could be here to take a look at it. So, we thought great! He should be here soon and we'll know what the situation is. If we can get it fixed for less money than getting a new refrigerator - better still. Well, my husband got called to work for snow removal, so I was stuck here waiting for the repairman. He didn't show-up. My husband came home from work about noon, and still we waited and we waited, and we waited. As the day wore on I got madder and madder at my husband for picking this repair man. "It's not my fault the refrigerator broke down," he said. "No, but it's your fault for picking this guy!" Finally, he showed-up at 4 o'clock, spent twenty minutes looking at the refrigerator and told us it was the compressor. It couldn't be fixed. By now, we had wasted a day just sitting around waiting only to be told the inevitable. Next came the phone calls to local stores to see who would deliver the next day. It turns out that Lowe's was the only place. So, we all piled into the car and took a drive to Lowe's. By this time it is 5:00. We spent about an hour looking at all types of refrigerators: top freezer, bottom freezer, side-by-sides, etc. We settled on one, walked around Lowe's "just looking" at things, and were finally on our way to dinner. By 8 o'clock last night we were finally home. The new fridge is supposed to be here some time today. In addition to that, I still have grocery shopping, and my niece's birthday party is today too! So much for having a relaxing weekend. Sorry, but I gotta run. Hope you enjoy the game - yeah, THAT's happening today too! |
| I drove home an hour from work in a snow storm, walked in the door, and was greeted by my husband with, "I need your help taking frozen food downstairs to the freezer." Apparently our refrigerator of 14 years just up and died on us. GREAT! I get to spend a chunk of money on a new refrigerator. It couldn't be the can opener that died, or the electric toothbrush . NO - they wouldn't cause a big enough dent in the savings account. It had to be the refrigerator. Now I have to go through the process of shopping for one with my husband. I absolutely hate shopping for household items with him! But I can't be trusted to do this by myself. This requires 'a man'. Why? I don't know! It's a refrigerator for crying outloud! I think I know what to look for. Afterall, I'm the one who keeps it stocked with food, I'm the one who fills the stupid ice cube trays, and I'm the one who cleans it. Something that would take me, by myself, an hour or two tops, will take us all day. And I mean ALL day! First we'll go to this appliance store to see what they have, then we'll go to that appliance store, then we'll have to see what this other appliance store has before we make up our minds. Me - I would go to one store, pick-out the one I like, and still have time to go to the mall to look at shoes. I have to save my energy for walking around the mall. You know - the important stuff! It couldn't happen at a worse time either - Superbowl Weekend! GASP! Who will deliver a refrigerator this weekend? What if we can't get one until Monday? How will we keep the dip cold? I, quite frankly, don't see a problem. The temperature is supposed to drop into the 'teens' tonight, so I would just put the food on the back porch and let nature keep it cold until we can get the refrigerator delivered. But NOOOO! We can't do that! "You can't put food on the back porch!" my husband said with disgust and amazement in his voice. "What are we? Hillbillies?" Whatever! Don't ask me what we should do if all you are going to do is shoot-down my wonderful ideas! All of this in addition to grocery shopping for my mother! There were only five messages from her on my answering machine yesterday. She had a short list this week. Lucky me! So think of me today as I'm dragged by my husband from appliance store to appliance store. I'm confidant that we will have a new refrigerator picked-out by 8 o'clock tonight. That's if we leave by 10 AM! Have a great day! |
| It's Groundhog Day - yay. I know, before I even leave my house for work today, millions of TV stations will be showing Puxsatawny Phil being dragged out of his little tree to whisper into the Grand Exaltic Mystic Poopah's ear whether or not we will have six more weeks of winter. I don't know how it is in the rest of the country, but living here in Pennsylvania I get to see that image over and over and over again - all day! It is BIG NEWS! When I was in elementary school I remember keeping my fingers crossed that he would see his shadow - this meant six more weeks of winter. Teachers would ask us if we had seen the news and if we knew whether or not Phil saw his shadow. You got extra credit if you did. How silly it all is. The poor groundhog looks scared out of his mind - if it even is a male. ( Remember how we were all shocked to find out Lassie wasn't really a female.) People stand around for hours waiting for the crack of dawn to see what the next six weeks will bring. I've never been to Puxsatawny, Pennsylvania, but they have bustrips just for this occassion. And from what I understand, it is very much like the movie "Groundhog Day" with Bill Murray. Oh well, enough of that! I'm glad it is Friday! And no, I don't care if Phil says six more weeks of winter or not. Most of the time he's wrong anyway. And, unlike when I was in Elementary school, I'm not keeping my fingers crossed for six more weeks of winter. I have a busy weekend ahead of me. The usual grocery shopping is on my "to do" list, then cleaning, laundry and this weekend we have an added twist - a birthday party on Superbowl Sunday. My niece, Alisha, will be two years old. Well, actually she turned two on January 17th, but my sister planned her party on Superbowl Sunday. She did this on purpose - if you ask my husband. "Why does your sister always have to plan these things on Superbowl Sunday?" The truth is my sister is "out of it" when it comes to football. Her husband is not a football fan, so she has no idea how much this day means. Besides, the party will be over by the time the game starts. But, my husband will miss some extremely important behind the scenes reports - poor baby! Now he won't know what this football player said about that football player, or what this sportscaster says about that team, etc. Also, my husband usually makes his self-proclaimed, "world famous" wings on this day and now he won't be able to. He calls them "world famous" even though it has only been me, my daughter and him that has ever eaten them. He claims to like wings so much, but yet he only makes them twice a year - once on opening NFL football day, and then again on Super Sunday. "That's what keeps them special" he tells us. Okaaay! Why is it when men finally decide to make something in the kitchen it is always a big production? I remember when my brother would make a sandwich, everything would be spread-out on the kitchen counters: bread, mustard, meat, lettuce, tomato, mayo, onions - everything but the kitchen sink went into his sandwiches. My husband is the same way. When he packs his lunch, he's another one who spreads everything out on the counters. And it's always when I'm right in the middle of making dinner too. The wing production is no different. A simple four ingredient recipe requires full use of the entire kitchen. Also, we must stay out of the kitchen and leave him alone so he can concentrate on what he is doing. What a show-off! First of all, I'm the one who gave him the recipe for them, and secondly I could make them in less time and with less mess than him. This Sunday, between kids running around at the birthday party and cleaning-up messes they create with my sister, I'll hear "Too bad we won't be having hot wings!" Oh brother! Give me a break! I guess I better run - time to get ready for work. Have a great day! |
| I don't know how this happened, but I woke up late this morning - an hour later than I normally do. This is just not like me. I didn't pack my lunch last night and didn't pick-out what outfit I would wear today. I just had to watch 'American Idol'! Now I'm kicking myself for my lack of planning. "I'll have plenty of time in the morning to make my lunch and pick-out what I'm going to wear," I stupidly thought. The alarm clock rang, but I didn't hear it. My husband, who is also my back-up alarm clock, woke me up with, "Turn that thing off!" "Thing? What thing? Oh the alarm clock! YIKES! Look at the time!" I slept through an hour of it sounding-off. How do I do that? My husband woke me up several times, but I just hit the snooze and fell back to sleep. Now I'll be paying for it! You know how it is when you wake up late. The whole day you find yourself trying to catch-up. All day you have the feeling you forgot something, or you're late for something. I hate that feeling! I was stumped as to what the date was too. Is it January or February? I'll be doing that all day! UGH! But yet I'm sitting here typing away when I should be getting ready for work. I just had to write "something" for today. I know this is lame, but I'm not quite awake (I have time for only one cup of coffee today. I'll be missing that second cup!) Well, I have a lot to do so, I better just end this now. Hope your day started off better than mine. Happy January, oops, February 1st! |
| I seem to be in a "list making" kind of mode with my writing. I made a list yesterday, and today is no different. I feel I have to apologize to you for this, but all I can say is I have to get it out of my system. Just bear with me. Here is my list for today: I came home from work last night and found my daughter typing away at the computer. I stupidly thought she was doing her homework. She was infact typing an 'IM' to one of her friends. As soon as I stood behind her, she typed "POS" to her friend. Her friend typed back a series of asterisks, but nothing else. Curious as to why she got that response, I asked what "POS" meant. She said, "It means 'parent over shoulder'. Oh! I took this to mean that I was an intrusion into the conversation and slowly slunk away like a wounded dog. My daughter changed the radio station in my car from the "boring" talk radio station to one that plays Top 40 music. We listened to whoever it was and I realized that I couldn't understand a word that was being sung. Thinking it was my forty-something hearing, I turned up the volume. This didn't help. I still couldn't understand what was being said. My daughter just looked at me like I was a dinosaur. There was a time when I knew all of the songs on the Top 40 stations. Now I have to ask my daughter, "Who's this singing?" Which leads me to MTV. I tried to watch MTV the other day. First of all, they should change the name of this channel seeing as how they don't even play music anymore. All that was on were stupid reality shows. I want my MTV, but my MTV is the 80's version. In those days I could sit and watch it all day. They played one video after another with a few breaks of "MTV News". I didn't even mind the news segments because they talked about MUSIC. Those were the days! I used to be able to stay awake way past midnight. Now I end up falling asleep around 9:30-10:00. This has a lot to do with my unusual sleep patterns. Since I wake up around 3:30 it is no wonder that I fall asleep so early. As for my husband, he thinks I have gone 'old'. "You go to bed early, you wake up early. That's what old people do!" If this is a sign of old-age, well then, I guess I am old! I bought a great-looking pair of shoes on sale and couldn't wait to wear them. They have a three-inch heal with a pointed toe. This, in my younger days, wouldn't bother me in the least. However, that was before my bunions became an issue. I wore these shoes all day, and paid for it dearly. My bunions ached all night. I mean 'wake me up in the middle of the night' ache too. I now call them my "Bunion Busters" because they target that area of my foot. By the way, I still wear them, I just know that my bunions will ache. There's no way that I wouldn't wear them! (You know what I mean!) Because my bunions ache so much, I made an appointment with the podiatrist. I sat in the waiting room patiently waiting for them to call my name. When I looked up from the magazine I was trying to read (I wasn't wearing my glasses!) I saw a roomful of senior citizens. I was the youngest person there. And speaking of my glasses, I now wear the dreaded "bifocals". They are a recent addition to 'my look'. Getting used to them is not easy either. I find myself constantly tilting my head up and down so I can choose the 'right' lense. My daughter will give me some kind of notice that she received in school and expects me to read it without my glasses. I can no longer read anything without my glasses, let alone a notice from her school. I hear my mother's words coming out of my mouth, "Read it to me. I don't have my glasses." I watch everything I eat. I mean everything! I used to be a junkfood addict. I would sit in front of the TV with a huge bag of potato chips. I could eat the whole bag without a care because I wouldn't gain any weight. Now, I couldn't tell you the last time I had a potato chip. I don't even buy them because I know I have no control over myself when it comes to them. Eating them would immediately put ten pounds on me. When I walk down the snack aisle of my supermarket, I can actually hear my favorite brand of chips calling my name. "Buy me! Eat me!", they call to me. I can't even look at them without a tear forming in my eye. My old friends! Every hair appointment involves getting my hair colored. Whatever happened to the days when I would get my hair colored just for the hell of it? Coloring my hair is no longer a "just because" thing. It has now become a necessity. Without it, I would be completely grey-haired, and with the bifocals that would just be unacceptable to me. It just doens't fit in with my self-image. I hate to say it, but it is time for me to get ready for work. I'm not too happy with my entry today. I hope tomorrow will be better and won't be "a list". Thanks for reading! |
| I'm sitting here staring at the keyboard trying to collect my thoughts and type something coherent. My fingers are moving way too slowly this morning and I have a feeling it will be one of those days when I drop everything. And I know someone will say, "you have the dropsies." When I was at the mall on Saturday, I couldn't help but notice the poor men sitting on the benches in the center of the mall, waiting patiently for their wives, girlfriends or whatever. They all had the same expression on their faces. Their eyes were glazed over with the look of boredom, or the "I'd rather be somewhere else" look. Some of the poor souls were actually holding purses! These are the men who are really, and I hate to use this word, "henpecked". This got me to thinking about things that I would never, I mean NEVER, ask my husband to do. So, this is what I came up with so far: I would never ask my husband to hold my purse while I did my shopping. First of all, he would look completely ridiculous. I mean he's six foot six and weighs aboutt 280. Also, I doubt that I have a purse that would match his Carhart coat. The color of which is called "duck". (Where the hell did they come up with that name?) Another thing I wouldn't ask my husband to do is to buy feminine hygiene products for me. It would be embarrassing for him, and besides, I know he wouldn't buy the right thing. I imagine him dashing down "that" aisle, grabbing whatever he could, and glancing nervously over his shoulder to make sure no one he knows saw him. It would be too much stress for him. I never ask my husband to get anything out of my purse. As far as I'm concerned, my purse is my domain. NO ONE, I mean NO ONE, goes into my purse without my permission. If he needs something out of my purse (car keys, pen, etc.) he brings it to me and I get whatever it is he needs. I never ask my husband to fold my laundry. I have this "thing" about people looking at my panties. It's to the point where I hide my underwear when I go to the gynecologist. I stuff them into a jean pocket or my purse. The gynecologist might see parts of me that I've never seen, but he's not going to see my underwear! I never ask my husband to go to my gynecologist appointments, or any doctor appointment for that matter. When I was pregnant I asked him to go to two appointments. One was to hear the baby's heart beat, and the other was to see her in the ultrasound. And that was it. The main reason I don't ask him to go with me is because he plays with everything. He opens draws, picks up the instruments and plays with them, and basically, can't sit still! It's like having a toddler with me. I don't need the stress or aggravation. His companionship during doctor appointments isn't worth the headache. I never ask my husband to write any kind of letter, email, or greeting card. My husband has terrible handwriting, for one thing, and he can't spell all that well either. There are times he's called me at work to ask me how to spell different words. I can always tell when he's calling me to ask for spelling help. He begins with, "How's your day going? What's new at work? By the way, how do you spell . . ." I remember once he called me to ask, "How do you spell 'shelves'?" I was floored! I told him our, then, 7 year old daughter could spell that word. To prove my point, that night at dinner I asked her to spell it - and she did! (To this day, my daughter says to my husband, "At least I can spell 'shelves'!") I never ask my husband to visit my relatives with me. My family is a collection of Jerry Springer-types. They have one problem after another, and fight amongst themselves constantly. I don't want to subject him to their behavior. What he does know about them already, is enough. I never ask my husband to go grocery shopping with me. He walks through the store and looks at things like he's never been in a supermarket before. I swear it's like he just came down from the mountains to buy his provisions for the month or something. I remember one time, when I did take him with me, I asked him to get frozen peas. Off he went to find the frozen vegetable aisle. He was gone awhile and I began to think he got lost, or abducted. I walked to the frozen vegetable aisle and there he was staring at the frozen peas. He looked at me with utter confusion on his face. "I don't know which ones to buy. "These" (holding up a bag of frozen peas) are on sale, but then again, these are Birds Eye, but they're not on sale." This was the conflict that was taking him so long! Forget it! He's more of a hindrance than a help! Besides, I don't want to hurt the feelings of the Dairy Manager! (See my Blog posting dated 01/26/07.) Well, that's my list, thus far. I have to get ready for work, or I'm sure I would think of other things. I hope you found this amusing! Have a Great Day! |
| Monday morning and what do you suppose is facing me today? SNOW! I just looked out of my window and there is a winter wonderland out there! Great! And believe me, I'm being sarcastic when I say that. Brushing off the car, watching out for the Kamikazee drivers on the road (people who have the same driving habits no matter what the weather is), and hoping I have enough windshield wiper fluid in my car is what I have to look forward to when I head out this morning. My hair looks like a bird's nest right now. I have this love-hate relationship with my hair. I swear it has a mind of its own. There are days when no matter what I do to it, it stills does what it wants to do. I want a piece of hair to go left, but it insists on going right. I want another piece of hair to lay flat, it sticks straight out. And don't even get me started on the "Widow's Peak" that I have to deal with. You know, when your hairline comes to a point on your forehead. Yes, I have one of those. People seem to be amazed by it. I try to camoflage it by having bangs to cover it. I always thought of it as a pain in the butt. To me it looks like Dracula hair. I guess I hide it so no one calls me Eddie Munster. My mom always told me it was a sign of good luck to have one. Yeah, sure it is. I think she just told me that to make me feel better for having freakish hair. Yesterday my hair looked like a landing pad for a helicopter - completely flat on top. I tried my best to poof it up a bit - to give myself some volume, but my hair won that battle. Hair - one, and me - zero. Then I noticed that my sides of my head looked like I had wings. My hair was sticking straight-out. Again I tried my best to brush them into some kind of order. The brush wasn't doing it so I pulled out my ultimate weapon - a large can of hairspray. Once I got to spraying that, things started happening. First, I sprayed the bangs, then the sides, and then I worked on the top of my head. It worked - sort of. I mean nothing was sticking out, and the landing pad looked kind of poofy. By the time I was finished spraying, I had to open a window to let the fumes escape, and I had 'helmet head' hair. Totally stiff - totally unmovable - totally unbrushable. When I was finished with the hair, I took a good look at the face. That's when I noticed it. Right there, on the underside of my chin was a big, white on top, zit! Lucky, lucky me! How can I be almost 44 years old and still dealing with zits? Granted they aren't a constant addition to my face, but they do visit every so often. I sat and stared at it and contemplated the age-old question - "To pop, or not to pop." I decided to leave it alone because I didn't feel like cleaning the bathroom mirror. Next I examined the lines on my face. Or should I say the gullies that have found a home there. I gently patted some concealer on them, but that was no help. It just gathered in the creases. Next came the foundation. So, I smeared alittle foundation on the deep ridge on my chin - being careful of the volcano of a zit that I have. And what do you suppose happend? Well, at first the foundation looked like it was going to work, then it just settled into the ridge. Same thing with the 'laugh lines' around my eyes. Everytime I have to deal with the "laugh lines" I curse myself for finding things funny. They are a punishment for having a sense of humor. When I was at the mall on Saturday I bought a new foundation. This one is for 'mature skin'. I'm dealing with a zit, but yet I have 'mature skin'. That somehow doesn't make sense to me. Anyway, this new foundation is supposed to hide these creases and lines. I ended up buying it at the local Walmart because the Clinique counter was unmanned or should I say unwomanned. There wasn't anyone there to help me. A clerk from the perfume counter came over and told me they would be back in 5 minutes. SORRY! I have things to do, places to be, people to see. I can't be standing around waiting for the Clinique women to come back from wherever they were. No sale there! Looking at foundations in Walmart was an adventure in itself. There were so many kinds, so many brands, and so many other women buying foundation. I mean did we all decide to buy new foundation on the same day? I couldn't even get close to the stuff. I had to wait patiently (something I am NOT good at) until the herd thinned. Finally there was an opening at the Cover Girl section. I manuevered through the other shoppers and stood solidly in front of the pretty display of colors. Upon closer inspection, the stuff was a mess! The samples were all smeared around, the jars and tubes of make-up were all scattered and in the wrong place, and to top it off, they didn't even have a color close to my skin color. I'm fair-skinned and the only colors they seem to have for fair-skinned people are ones that make your face look like Casper The Friendly Ghost. I scanned the aisle for another opening at a different brand of make-up and saw the L'Oreal section was clear. This time I didn't try to "manuever" through the groups of shoppers. Afterall, trying to buy foundation was turning into a big ordeal and I was getting just alittle impatient with the whole thing. I just plowed my way through and didn't care who didn't like it. And believe me, I could feel the eyes of disapproval boring through me. I decided on a color and was on my way. Besides, the crowd started gathering behind me and I could feel someone's hot breath on my neck - YUCK! Gee look at the time! All I did was rant and rave about my foundation. Sorry about that! I feel like I somehow cheated you today. I would correct it, but I have to start getting ready for work. And that is not an easy job. Let's hope the hair is cooperative, and the zit can be concealed, and the lines on my face are not so deep. Til tomorrow! |
| Here it is, Sunday morning and I still have all of my weekend chores to do. Why you ask? All because I decided to spend my Saturday shopping with my sister. This was a shopping trip that we thought would be only an hour or two. It turned out to be an all day event. Now I have to make up for lost time. Which led me to the thought that if I had a wife at home, she would have done all of my chores. This thought was originally prompted a few years ago when I received a call from my daughter's school. She had gotten sick and they called my husband, who works in town. He told them to call me because he was "in the middle of concrete-work" and couldn't leave. I work an hour away from home. I had to tell my male boss that I had to pick-up my daughter. He was not happy that I had to leave, and I thought, "Excuse me! I don't have a wife at home like you do to take care of these things." If I had a wife at home she could have picked her up. Don't get me wrong, my husband is a big help with taking my daughter where she needs to be, and also with housework. He's not a slouch. However, there are times when I can't count on him to help out, especially if it conflicts with his work. He never asks to leave early and I can never count on him to pick her up from school if she gets sick. This is when I need a wife the most. I wonder how a Rent a Wife company would do? Imagine the possiblilties. You'll be out of town, but your children still need to go to soccer practice - call Rent a Wife. If you have more than one child with activities scheduled at the same time - call Rent a Wife. You need weekend chores to be done, but you have a trip planned - call Rent a Wife. You'll be working late but your family still needs a home-cooked meal - call Rent a Wife. The phone company, cable company, or delivery of that new washing machine is scheduled between the hours of eight and five - call Rent a Wife to wait for them. Are you a single parent who needs a helping hand with managing schedules and chores - call Rent a Wife. I could go on and on. Rent a Wife would really come in handy. Why you could even use Rent a Wife if you didn't have children, but were basically a lazy slob. Rent a Wife could clean your home or apartment, cook your meals, and run your errands. You could pay a monthly fee to have Rent a Wife on call, or have a "pay as needed" service. Wow! The more I think about this idea, the better I like it! It could be a great service to everyone. No more walking the dog in the rain, or having dry, cracked hands from doing dishes and housework. If only there was such a service! However, dreaming will not get my laundry or housework done. So, you'll have to excuse me while I start my Saturday chores. Have a great day! |
| Here it is, at long last - FRIDAY! I didn't think it would ever get here. It's funny because yesterday one of the women I work with asked me if I thought the week was going fast. I told her she had to be kidding. This was the longest week ever. Apparently no one shared my insight. They all seemed to think the week was speeding by. Oh well! This weekend I have my normal routine all set to go. I start my Saturday off with grocery shopping. I go to the grocery store twice every Saturday. Once for my mother's groceriers and once for mine. It is to the point where I think I'm having an affair with the Dairy Manager. I see him there every Saturday morning, and we always have a pleasant conversation - both times I am there. Now I know about his ex-wife (he really emphasized the "ex" to me), his teenage son who lives with him, and this girl that he is "sort of" seeing. I even know what he did over the holidays and how much he spent on his son. Whenever I walk down the dairy aisle, if he isn't stocking shelves with cheese, he quickly pops out of the stockroom and makes his presence known to me. Because of this, I always make sure that I look presentable when I go to the supermarket. No bedhead or smeared make-up for me. I now have an image to uphold to my supermarket's Dairy Manager. The funny thing is the other supermarket that I used to shop at had a Dairy Manager that would always go out of his way to talk to me too. Dairy managers must be drawn to me, or maybe I'm a magnet for them. As I said, I do my mother's grocery shopping. To make things easy, she calls my answering machine and leaves her list for me. I am always amazed at the number of messages there are from her. Yesterday there were seven. Most of them began with "Oh and one more thing that I forgot to put on the list is . . ." I sit by the phone with pen and paper in hand scribbling her order. On every list there is that one item she asks me to get that either doesn't exist, or can't be found anywhere but in her mind. A list that should only take about a half hour ends-up taking me over an hour because of her oddball items. Things such as Cascade for washing dishes but "not the one for dishwashers". First of all, Cascade, as far as I know, doesn't make a dishwashing liquid for anything other than dishwashing machines. One time she asked me to get her Easy Off oven cleaner - the kind that is fume free. Ok - no problem, or so I thought. I dropped it off and the next day she called me to tell me that I got the wrong kind. She meant the "other one". Ok - no problem, I bought the one in the yellow can the next time. Again she called me the next day and told me this was wrong too. She meant the "other one". I told her they have two kinds - a blue can and a yellow can. She told me to forget about it that she would have someone else get it for her. When I went to her place the next weekend, she said, "I finally got the oven cleaner that I needed." I looked at the can on her counter and there was the Easy Off in the yellow can. "That's the same one that I got for you," I told her. "No, the one you got was the wrong kind. Now, I FINALLY have the right cleaner." Whatever! She'll also use names for things that other people would never know what she is talking about. Such as "house spray", which when translated means "air freshener". Or "toilet doodads" which means those little toilet deodorizers that hang on the inside of the toilet. Every shopping trip is an adventure or should I say scavenger hunt. Then there are times when she'll mention one item, but really mean something else. I, in turn, am expected to know what she REALLY meant. For example, she wanted me to buy two cans of chicken a la king. Ok, fine, I bought two cans of chicken a la king. "I meant chicken chow mein," she said on the phone later that day. Somehow, it was my fault that she got the wrong item! Parking in front of my mother's house is an adventure too. There is no off-street parking which means I park in front of her house. The street in front of her home leads to the mall. Needless to say the traffic is always heavy. Her next door neighbor is a crochety old man who doesn't want anyone parking on his sidewalk. So he has buckets positioned to prevent anyone from parking there. One Saturday morning he poked his head out of his door and yelled, "pick-up that bucket you knocked over or I'll have you arrested for hit and run." I picked up the stupid bucket and went to get in my car. Did he let it go at that? NO! "I'm sick of you people knocking over my buckets. There's plenty of parking on the street." "WHERE?", I yelled back to him, but he already retreated back to his hobbit-hole. I know this sounds mean, but since that day, I always flip him the finger as I drive past his house. He isn't at the door, or looking out the window (as far as I know), but it just makes me feel better to do it. Crazy isn't it? Oh well, time for me to get ready for work. Enjoy your day! |
| Today I have absolutely nothing to say. I woke-up slightly later than I normally do which means my body is now stiff and achey from lying in the same position too long. I must've slept in the shape of a pretzel because that's what I feel like. All day yesterday I kept thinking it was Thursday. I hate it when I do that! "One more day" I kept telling myself. Then something would snap me back to reality and I was again reminded that it was only Wednesday. Is it me, or is this the longest week on record? Usually those four day weeks are the ones that really throw me off. Tuesdays feel like Mondays and my mind never gets with the program. Its not that I have anything special planned for the weekend, just the freedom itself is something to look forward too. The not having to be here or there by a certain time and the not having to have my "professional" face on. On the weekends I don't have to restrain my mouth as much as I do during the work week. I can say what I want to those around me. At work, there are certain things that I don't talk about, or can't talk about. I'm an assistant manager of a bank, and all of my tellers are in their twenties. There are things in life they aren't even aware of, so it's kind of hard to talk to them about most things I'm experiencing. They just don't get it - yet. The magazines they read are all celebrity related - People and Us. I'll pick one up to read it, and end up just looking at the pictures. I'm just not into the whole Hollywood scene and what's going on in it. And my customers are usually way past fifty, so, again, there are certain things they don't want to talk about. So, it is a fine line that me and my mouth walk during the work day. Of course once I'm home the muzzle comes off and I can run-off at the mouth as much as I want. Not that anyone will listen, but just the release is all that I need. I listen to all of my daughter's stories from her day at school, and then my husband has his work stories too. That's usually our dinner conversation. Wow, I can hear my husband snoring as I type this. Today and tomorrow he has off from work, so he'll be sleeping in as late as he wants. He has to work this weekend. He was glad that it was THIS weekend he has to work. God forbid he would have to work Superbowl weekend. That would have been a crime in his mind. Well it's 5 AM, so I better leave this "nothingness" and start getting ready for work. Sorry this was so "blah" today. Tomorrow will be better. I promise! Happy THURSDAY! |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
