Got a little trim yesterday at the wonderful place I go to get my hair cut. I'd tell you the name of it, but most of you don't live around here and wouldn't be able to take advantage of my free advertising, so I'll just say it's the Place that Rocks!
However, the search for the Place that Rocks did not rock. I have lived in Rome for ... almost nine years now. Wow, that's a long time. Of course, four of those years were spent at Shorter where the world around that little spot on The Hill doesn't really seem to exist. Anyhoo, while in college, my hair was not really a priority. I mean, it was long and manageable, so I didn't have to really go anywhere to get anything done to it. Plus, my aunt showed me once how to cut layers into your own hair, so while I was in college and for a while after that, I cut my own hair. Yeah, it wasn't the easiest thing in the world, but it was easier when it was long. Plus, much to my husband's delight, it was free.
Then I felt compelled to follow the lead of a friend who regularly donates her hair to Locks of Love, an organization that takes hair donations for cancer patients (for wigs). I made the drive to Kennesaw to some kids' hair shop and had them chop off the minimum 10 inches to give to Locks of Love..... then I got in my car and called Chris almost crying because my hair was up to my chin! Looking back at pictures, it didn't look so bad. But at the time, I thought I looked like Darth Vador or Lord Helmet. My hair being thick did not look its best in a triangle shape atop my head. But, it was for a good cause...
Once it grew out to just below my shoulders, I was on the search for a hair place. I'm not sure I can recollect the many places I went. I know one was a place that a college friend recommended. I went there asking for a few layers and some bangs. I left with a trim and no bangs... Later I decided to go CRAZY and follow the lead of two coworkers who went to a dreamy-looking guy who had his own shop and charged $50 for a haircut. Now, obviously, this is the most I had EVER spent on my hair, but I was told it would look fabulous. After squeezing me in, JJ (as I will call him) began running his fingers through my hair, asking what I want. Again, "I want a few layers and some bangs." OK! As he starts cutting, the words "wow, you have a lot of hair!" slip from his mouth about a half-dozen times. I wanted to say, "Yes, are you scared of it? Cause if you are, step away from the chair..."
I got my bangs this time and a few layers. JJ said, "Hey, you were made for bangs! You should have had them a long time ago........." Yeah...... I tried........ The cut was good, but, eh, not so much worth $50.
Then one day on a whim, I meandered into the Place that Rocks. I ended up getting the daughter of the person who owned the place and who had been in the hair business for about 10 years. This time, I wasn't going safe. I wanted it short, layered and more like a professional adult. (I was on some kick. Who knows?!) I told her what I wanted, possibly even took in a photo and she worked her magic. Not only does Carrie rock, but this place uses Aveda products. They are expensive but are made from all natural ingredients and are better for the environment. Plus, they smell better than anything I have ever smelled in my life! Ask Chris!
Since the finding of the Place that Rocks, I have returned time and time again. I spend a little more than I would like on a hair cut, but I only get it cut every four months or so (I have pretty good hair, thanks to my mom. Great dead skin cells run in my family.) I have also convinced about four other women to go into this place. They love it too! Although, one of my friends went in a few weeks ago and Carrie was double-booked so she had to have someone else cut it. It apparently turned out AWFUL, so she had to go somewhere else to get it fixed. End result: her long hair that she wanted to her shoulders was chopped off to her ears!!!! Yep, not even to her chin!!!!! My advice: don't EVER go to anyone else but Carrie again. And since this friend didn't say anything to them, I mentioned it to Carrie during my trim yesterday. I figure they don't want anyone who does a bad job working in their place. I wasn't mean about it (I promise Mickey and Jacob), just felt like she would want to know. I didn't even know the name of the person but somehow she knew exactly who it was???
Another thing about a great "hair person": they are like bartenders. For some reason, Carrie is someone I can talk to really well. But she asks about my life and remembers what's going on. I kind of serve as the same for her, too. But I'm sure that's a girl thing. I'm sure guys don't tell their barbers all the ins and outs of their lives. Of course, Chris does because I am his barber. Either way, maybe it's all the smells of the shampoo, conditioner and styling products that produces the same effects as the alcohol.
So, I probably just bored the guys to tears, but the important lesson learned: not every place that is in the business of cutting hair should be in the business of cutting hair. Apparently finding a great cosmetologist is like finding a great man. It takes a lot of patience, a couple of test runs and some great products (ha! just kidding on that last part!).
Dec 21, 2007
Dec 20, 2007
Oh Celebrities!
During my daily internet surfing, I frequently come across news of celebrities, which is usually accompanied by photos. I've come to realize that they are people too... yeah right! I really am writing this to make fun of a few of them. So I'll get on with it.
Domo arigato, Mrs. Roboto
I just want to know what spaceship Nicole Kidman walked off of for this red carpet moment! Normally, though a little icy looking, Nikki is a very regal woman who dresses to suit her tall, slim and pale figure. However, this was not one of those days. This is why celebrities have people dress them, and if this was the product of a stylist's mind, he/she should be promptly fired!
Phoebe Buffet would not approve
All I know is if Mary J Blige killed any of those cool Ice Bears from "Golden Compass" just to keep her black ass warm, I will be after her! Who wears furs anymore? Just because you have money and an awesome voice does not mean you have to wear an entire animal on your back. You're killing me softly, MJB...
Do I look fat?
I really think Victoria Beckham needs to start seeing Jenny Craig and a serious trainer! This gal just keeps on packing on the pounds........ right! More like she might break if you look at her too long. Have you ever seen that "Family Guy" episode where Kate Moss is Chris' girlfriend and when she is standing sideways, she disappears? Yeah, that's what I think of when I see Victoria. AND, to make matters worse, she is the mother of this guy's children!!!!
How this guy fell for a cheek-sucking, one-expression wafe, I have NO idea! I know a few girls (and guys) who wouldn't mind bending it with Beckham...
Bootylicious!
Even though B apparently has a Christmas album (which we heard in a restaurant just this past weekend), I still like her*. She's beautiful; she's not skin and bones, and she can sing. Plus, as we see here, she usually dresses very well. I might be a little partial since red is my favorite color, but she looks abfab in this little number. Maybe she should be giving out some tips to the other celebrities...
* I think only about five people in the history of the music industry should make a Christmas album!
Can you tell I had NOTHING to do today?!
Domo arigato, Mrs. Roboto
I just want to know what spaceship Nicole Kidman walked off of for this red carpet moment! Normally, though a little icy looking, Nikki is a very regal woman who dresses to suit her tall, slim and pale figure. However, this was not one of those days. This is why celebrities have people dress them, and if this was the product of a stylist's mind, he/she should be promptly fired!
Phoebe Buffet would not approve
All I know is if Mary J Blige killed any of those cool Ice Bears from "Golden Compass" just to keep her black ass warm, I will be after her! Who wears furs anymore? Just because you have money and an awesome voice does not mean you have to wear an entire animal on your back. You're killing me softly, MJB...
Do I look fat?
I really think Victoria Beckham needs to start seeing Jenny Craig and a serious trainer! This gal just keeps on packing on the pounds........ right! More like she might break if you look at her too long. Have you ever seen that "Family Guy" episode where Kate Moss is Chris' girlfriend and when she is standing sideways, she disappears? Yeah, that's what I think of when I see Victoria. AND, to make matters worse, she is the mother of this guy's children!!!!
How this guy fell for a cheek-sucking, one-expression wafe, I have NO idea! I know a few girls (and guys) who wouldn't mind bending it with Beckham...
Bootylicious!
Even though B apparently has a Christmas album (which we heard in a restaurant just this past weekend), I still like her*. She's beautiful; she's not skin and bones, and she can sing. Plus, as we see here, she usually dresses very well. I might be a little partial since red is my favorite color, but she looks abfab in this little number. Maybe she should be giving out some tips to the other celebrities...
* I think only about five people in the history of the music industry should make a Christmas album!
Can you tell I had NOTHING to do today?!
Dec 19, 2007
Top Blog Quotes of 2007
I have enjoyed the blogging world so much that I thought I would share a list of some of my favorite tidbits from YOUR blogs (these are in no particular order except for the last one). Keep in mind, these are only from around the time I started blogging through the present:
I, along with much of the world, am not impressed by the simple fact that you have children. Making babies is an exceedingly normal, even cliché thing to do that, like knitting, does not make you interesting.
Mickey (in search of interesting blogs)
And yet he is. My biggest influence is a wooly mammoth with very long eyelashes.
Courtney (on Snuffleupagus being her influence)
I'm going to win the lottery tomorrow. I'm sure God told me this while I was sitting in the dark with my door closed hoping that no one would come make me cover a class during my precious planning period.
Jacob (the sad thing is, so many people really think this way)
What I’m attempting to establish here, beyond the shadow of a whisker of a doubt, is not that she’s simply an idiot, but rather the true bottomless depths of her ignorance.
Mickey (on his coworker, btw, "shadow of a whisker of a doubt"? That's a new one!)
Still, I'm perfectly aware that my regular spouting of trivia and lack of fear for an intelligent discussion of differing views could easily be mistaken for nerd bragging.
Jacob (on whether he’s a know-it-all)
This is really groundbreaking shit, theologically speaking.
Chris (nothing like the word “shit” being thrown into a sentence with a word that means the study of God)
What's really fun is when he comes home in the middle of me doing one of these things, and then there's a lot of long, silent, judgmental staring.
Courtney (on Mickey walking in on her dancing around the apartment)
"You know, they've done research to show that three-quarters of all women have some kind of that schizophrenia PMS stuff."
Chris (on mental illness - not actually Chris’ quote but we appreciate him sharing it with us)
Dear Apartment, let’s get right to the point: I hate you.
Courtney (I just love the direct point here)
Now that I’ve had a few minutes to reflect on it, though, I realize that, quite obviously, Meaghan is The Man and she’s once again conspiring in her subtle way to keep us all down.
Mickey (on me contemplating being average - I'm not sure how I feel about being called a man...)
I told the young man at the counter that I would like to have a to-go order. He then proceeded to ask me if I was eating in or taking out. Huh? I looked at him and repeated. I would like a to-go order. And then he asked, Did you already order? I decided I had not made myself crystal clear. I stated in a strong voice, I would like to order some food to take home with me. He stared. He didn't say anything. So, I gave him my order. He then asked, Will that be for here or to go? What the...?
Nicole (on ordering at Taco Bell - we’ve all been through it, but Nicole details it to a T)
To be honest, I don't think eating a bread-and-butter breakfast is the secret of all these magenta-haired 60 year olds in leather pants I see walking around.
Kari (on the use of butter in France)
Anyway, so we were discussing gun control in general, with all of us giving anecdotes or experiences, when I said, "but Ryan, even if there was a REMOTE possibility that someone tried to break into your home, I could at the most see myself purchasing a tazer. But I'd even say a small handgun might be necessary in some cases. But that's only with the proper training. Do YOU have any kind of weapon safety training for this assault rifle?" To which Ryan responded - totally seriously (and Chris and Meaghan can attest to this)......
"Well I've got a merit badge from Scouts."
Severo (on Ryan’s recent gun purchase)
Apparently part of the radio spot includes the woman laughing. And not just any ol' hardy-har-har laugh either. They wanted a flirty, sexy laugh. Laughing on command is hard, but to give your best flirty laugh...aie, aie, aie!
Kari (I can picture this and it makes me laugh)
And now, for my hands-down favorite quote of 2007…
Since I work with three other women, the squeals were positively deafening and I’m pretty sure I heard someone’s uterus explode.
Courtney (on baby discussions)
I, along with much of the world, am not impressed by the simple fact that you have children. Making babies is an exceedingly normal, even cliché thing to do that, like knitting, does not make you interesting.
Mickey (in search of interesting blogs)
And yet he is. My biggest influence is a wooly mammoth with very long eyelashes.
Courtney (on Snuffleupagus being her influence)
I'm going to win the lottery tomorrow. I'm sure God told me this while I was sitting in the dark with my door closed hoping that no one would come make me cover a class during my precious planning period.
Jacob (the sad thing is, so many people really think this way)
What I’m attempting to establish here, beyond the shadow of a whisker of a doubt, is not that she’s simply an idiot, but rather the true bottomless depths of her ignorance.
Mickey (on his coworker, btw, "shadow of a whisker of a doubt"? That's a new one!)
Still, I'm perfectly aware that my regular spouting of trivia and lack of fear for an intelligent discussion of differing views could easily be mistaken for nerd bragging.
Jacob (on whether he’s a know-it-all)
This is really groundbreaking shit, theologically speaking.
Chris (nothing like the word “shit” being thrown into a sentence with a word that means the study of God)
What's really fun is when he comes home in the middle of me doing one of these things, and then there's a lot of long, silent, judgmental staring.
Courtney (on Mickey walking in on her dancing around the apartment)
"You know, they've done research to show that three-quarters of all women have some kind of that schizophrenia PMS stuff."
Chris (on mental illness - not actually Chris’ quote but we appreciate him sharing it with us)
Dear Apartment, let’s get right to the point: I hate you.
Courtney (I just love the direct point here)
Now that I’ve had a few minutes to reflect on it, though, I realize that, quite obviously, Meaghan is The Man and she’s once again conspiring in her subtle way to keep us all down.
Mickey (on me contemplating being average - I'm not sure how I feel about being called a man...)
I told the young man at the counter that I would like to have a to-go order. He then proceeded to ask me if I was eating in or taking out. Huh? I looked at him and repeated. I would like a to-go order. And then he asked, Did you already order? I decided I had not made myself crystal clear. I stated in a strong voice, I would like to order some food to take home with me. He stared. He didn't say anything. So, I gave him my order. He then asked, Will that be for here or to go? What the...?
Nicole (on ordering at Taco Bell - we’ve all been through it, but Nicole details it to a T)
To be honest, I don't think eating a bread-and-butter breakfast is the secret of all these magenta-haired 60 year olds in leather pants I see walking around.
Kari (on the use of butter in France)
Anyway, so we were discussing gun control in general, with all of us giving anecdotes or experiences, when I said, "but Ryan, even if there was a REMOTE possibility that someone tried to break into your home, I could at the most see myself purchasing a tazer. But I'd even say a small handgun might be necessary in some cases. But that's only with the proper training. Do YOU have any kind of weapon safety training for this assault rifle?" To which Ryan responded - totally seriously (and Chris and Meaghan can attest to this)......
"Well I've got a merit badge from Scouts."
Severo (on Ryan’s recent gun purchase)
Apparently part of the radio spot includes the woman laughing. And not just any ol' hardy-har-har laugh either. They wanted a flirty, sexy laugh. Laughing on command is hard, but to give your best flirty laugh...aie, aie, aie!
Kari (I can picture this and it makes me laugh)
And now, for my hands-down favorite quote of 2007…
Since I work with three other women, the squeals were positively deafening and I’m pretty sure I heard someone’s uterus explode.
Courtney (on baby discussions)
Dec 18, 2007
I Don't Know Nothin 'bout Birthin' No Babies, Ms. Scarlett
Dear Diary,
The time of family gatherings to celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior is upon us. Beginning this weekend, I'll be heading to several family get-togethers, where there will be food, presents, stories of Christmas past and... babies. It's inevitable and I must prepare for it. Someone is probably going to ask when I'll be having a baby. And if they aren't asking it, I'll get the look - you know, that head cocked to the side, set down a bit, with lips pursed but in a half smile, especially if I'm playing with a child or holding a baby at that moment. In their mind they're saying, "Poor girl, she doesn't have a purpose in life and doesn't know what true happiness is until she has a baby."
I'm all about the baby Jesus around Christmas, but stop thinking I need a baby!
You want to know the reason I haven't had a baby? Other than the obvious fact that sperm has not attached to one of my eggs yet, I'm just not sure I want one. Now, if I were in a room full of women, I'd probably hear a few gasps, awes and "oh my lord"s.
To me, deciding whether to have a baby is not as simple as making a list of pros and cons. Many people have said that Chris and I would make great parents, but frankly, it scares the shit out of me to think of the fact that we would be responsible for another person's upbringing. How we treat him/her in stressful situations could determine so much in the long run, or, if he/she is anything like me, she'll (just tired of writing he or she) just make up her mind as a teen and it may or may not matter what I've ever done (which is fine).
I've been an aunt since I was 8 years old. Yep, my sister, who is 10 years older than me, had a baby when she was 18. I've always enjoyed this role, babysitting when I could, spoiling them when I could, being someone they could talk to if they wanted. Moving to Georgia made that much harder, but I still try to stay in touch. But am I ready to do the mom thing? That is 24/7 and will mean that most of my selfishness will go out the door. I say most because if I were a mom, I would take time for myself. I would also make sure my husband and I got time together.
And that's another thing. I really like my husband... I mean REALLY! We truly are the best of friends. The poor guy knows everything about me, all my ups and downs, and loves me anyway! More than anything in the world, we both like to just be with the other. I realize we get more time together than a lot of couples, but are we ready to give up any of that time? And even though we might still be together, just with a baby, it just doesn't seem like the same to me. I like having him all to myself sometimes, with no distractions and no obligations.
Financially, I think we would be fine... as long as we keep our jobs. Chris and I are both penny-pinchers. I think it brings him some level of joy to save money, so I'm not really worried about that. Of course, we are helping take care of his mom, but we're hoping the biggest part of that is close to being over.
But the fear lingers. What if I treat my kid like my mom treated me... I'm not going to go into the whole story, but it was usually an unpleasant situation. Or, even worse, what if I go crazy like so many mothers seem to do. Chris and I have realized that the majority of the mothers we know are whacko on some level. The kids are their lives; the husbands get tossed to the side. They begin wearing sensible shoes ALL THE TIME and those stupid little sweaters with snowmen and apples on them! They can't socialize with adults. They are pear shaped, and they all chop off their hair at some point!
I feel like I could possibly be a good mom. I'd kind of be playing it by ear (plus reading every book on the matter). I feel like I should breast feed (it's the best for baby and mom, from what I read), exercise, be VERY involved in education from day 1, expose my kid to animals at an early age, be goofy, never put my little boy in a sweater vest, expect my child to behave in a restaurant or other public place, respect what he or she has to say, tell them about sex pretty early, respect their privacy but be someone they can talk to, NOT YELL, take them to other countries or at least states, be proud of their efforts, teach them the value of work and tell them all about my family and how to avoid falling in their footsteps.
And if they come home one day or call and say "I'm pregnant" (or "I got a girl pregnant"), "I got arrested," "I'm not going to college," "I'm on drugs" or "I hate you, you fuckin' bitch," I must love them and treat them just the same. And if he or she comes to me and says "I'm gay." I have to be that support for them that they may not get anywhere else.
My biggest fear in the world is losing Chris. What if we have a baby and then he finds some trashy blonde named Trixie (just kidding) or dies? I don't want to be a single mom, and I don't want to have the thought of wishing I could just have him back instead.
I had a friend tell me once that Chris and I needed to reproduce to compensate for the stupid people having babies. He had seen some movie about only stupid people reproducing and taking over the world. I also recently read an article about two women who will not have children (one had had two abortions to prevent this) because they felt it was just another way of polluting the earth - another mouth to feed, another person breathing air and wasting all over the earth. That was pretty extreme to me, but it makes me think. And then what about adoption? Is it selfish of me to have my own child when there are so many out there with no parents or with abusive parents from which they had to be taken away? There are so many opinions, so many reasons to have one and so many reasons to not.
I even had one mom say, "Well, you want to have some kids because when you are old and if your husband is gone, they'll be all you have." What? See! Crazy! Why can't you still have a good circle of friends when you are old? Because as a mom, you some how get rid of all your friends! (Not really, but a lot of these crazy moms have no friends)
AND, with my dad gone, my mom a little on the extreme and Chris' mom with mental illness, my kid will have one cool grandparent! Not to mention, mental illness can be hereditary. What if my kid... uugh all the questions!
So where does this leave me? For now, I'll just respond to the questions with fake and mean answers like, "never" and "when you stop having them." Secretly, I'll just wish that Chris and I could live in Tuscany with about 10 dogs. I'd be perfectly happy with that.
The time of family gatherings to celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior is upon us. Beginning this weekend, I'll be heading to several family get-togethers, where there will be food, presents, stories of Christmas past and... babies. It's inevitable and I must prepare for it. Someone is probably going to ask when I'll be having a baby. And if they aren't asking it, I'll get the look - you know, that head cocked to the side, set down a bit, with lips pursed but in a half smile, especially if I'm playing with a child or holding a baby at that moment. In their mind they're saying, "Poor girl, she doesn't have a purpose in life and doesn't know what true happiness is until she has a baby."
I'm all about the baby Jesus around Christmas, but stop thinking I need a baby!
You want to know the reason I haven't had a baby? Other than the obvious fact that sperm has not attached to one of my eggs yet, I'm just not sure I want one. Now, if I were in a room full of women, I'd probably hear a few gasps, awes and "oh my lord"s.
To me, deciding whether to have a baby is not as simple as making a list of pros and cons. Many people have said that Chris and I would make great parents, but frankly, it scares the shit out of me to think of the fact that we would be responsible for another person's upbringing. How we treat him/her in stressful situations could determine so much in the long run, or, if he/she is anything like me, she'll (just tired of writing he or she) just make up her mind as a teen and it may or may not matter what I've ever done (which is fine).
I've been an aunt since I was 8 years old. Yep, my sister, who is 10 years older than me, had a baby when she was 18. I've always enjoyed this role, babysitting when I could, spoiling them when I could, being someone they could talk to if they wanted. Moving to Georgia made that much harder, but I still try to stay in touch. But am I ready to do the mom thing? That is 24/7 and will mean that most of my selfishness will go out the door. I say most because if I were a mom, I would take time for myself. I would also make sure my husband and I got time together.
And that's another thing. I really like my husband... I mean REALLY! We truly are the best of friends. The poor guy knows everything about me, all my ups and downs, and loves me anyway! More than anything in the world, we both like to just be with the other. I realize we get more time together than a lot of couples, but are we ready to give up any of that time? And even though we might still be together, just with a baby, it just doesn't seem like the same to me. I like having him all to myself sometimes, with no distractions and no obligations.
Financially, I think we would be fine... as long as we keep our jobs. Chris and I are both penny-pinchers. I think it brings him some level of joy to save money, so I'm not really worried about that. Of course, we are helping take care of his mom, but we're hoping the biggest part of that is close to being over.
But the fear lingers. What if I treat my kid like my mom treated me... I'm not going to go into the whole story, but it was usually an unpleasant situation. Or, even worse, what if I go crazy like so many mothers seem to do. Chris and I have realized that the majority of the mothers we know are whacko on some level. The kids are their lives; the husbands get tossed to the side. They begin wearing sensible shoes ALL THE TIME and those stupid little sweaters with snowmen and apples on them! They can't socialize with adults. They are pear shaped, and they all chop off their hair at some point!
I feel like I could possibly be a good mom. I'd kind of be playing it by ear (plus reading every book on the matter). I feel like I should breast feed (it's the best for baby and mom, from what I read), exercise, be VERY involved in education from day 1, expose my kid to animals at an early age, be goofy, never put my little boy in a sweater vest, expect my child to behave in a restaurant or other public place, respect what he or she has to say, tell them about sex pretty early, respect their privacy but be someone they can talk to, NOT YELL, take them to other countries or at least states, be proud of their efforts, teach them the value of work and tell them all about my family and how to avoid falling in their footsteps.
And if they come home one day or call and say "I'm pregnant" (or "I got a girl pregnant"), "I got arrested," "I'm not going to college," "I'm on drugs" or "I hate you, you fuckin' bitch," I must love them and treat them just the same. And if he or she comes to me and says "I'm gay." I have to be that support for them that they may not get anywhere else.
My biggest fear in the world is losing Chris. What if we have a baby and then he finds some trashy blonde named Trixie (just kidding) or dies? I don't want to be a single mom, and I don't want to have the thought of wishing I could just have him back instead.
I had a friend tell me once that Chris and I needed to reproduce to compensate for the stupid people having babies. He had seen some movie about only stupid people reproducing and taking over the world. I also recently read an article about two women who will not have children (one had had two abortions to prevent this) because they felt it was just another way of polluting the earth - another mouth to feed, another person breathing air and wasting all over the earth. That was pretty extreme to me, but it makes me think. And then what about adoption? Is it selfish of me to have my own child when there are so many out there with no parents or with abusive parents from which they had to be taken away? There are so many opinions, so many reasons to have one and so many reasons to not.
I even had one mom say, "Well, you want to have some kids because when you are old and if your husband is gone, they'll be all you have." What? See! Crazy! Why can't you still have a good circle of friends when you are old? Because as a mom, you some how get rid of all your friends! (Not really, but a lot of these crazy moms have no friends)
AND, with my dad gone, my mom a little on the extreme and Chris' mom with mental illness, my kid will have one cool grandparent! Not to mention, mental illness can be hereditary. What if my kid... uugh all the questions!
So where does this leave me? For now, I'll just respond to the questions with fake and mean answers like, "never" and "when you stop having them." Secretly, I'll just wish that Chris and I could live in Tuscany with about 10 dogs. I'd be perfectly happy with that.
Dec 14, 2007
Tagged for Wisdom
This is it! This is my big chance to share all I know... and yes, it will all fit in one post! Just kidding (kind of).
After being tagged by my France-dwelling friend Kari to share my knowledge of the written word and getting published, I pondered for a moment. What do I really know? So that anyone reading this won't think I'm pulling this out of my butt, I'll give you a quick overview of my credentials:
I have a Bachelor of Arts degree in communication with a concentration in journalism from Shorter College, an itsy bitsy college in Northwest Georgia. While in school, I was the editor of the college newspaper, which Kari also worked for (poor thing, had to take orders from me!). I also had an internship at my hometown paper, where I was allowed to cover county government while the usual reporter was back at school for a month. After graduation, I worked at the Rome News-Tribune in my current hometown, covering the city government and various other general assignment bits. When the lifestyles editor quit, I asked if I could fill in until they hired someone, stating my experience with layout and editing in college as qualifications. "Filling in" turned into a three-year stint. So, after three years of editing my little heart out, as well as continuing to write stories, I found that the design part of my job was what I loved best. But I still can't help to read things with an editor's eye (that's not to say I don't miss things).
That said, here is some advice that may contribute to Kari's original post on getting published:
Think you're a great writer? You're wrong!
I am not trying to bust your bubble, but if you think you are a great writer, you should just step down from that seat in the sky. There are always going to be writers that might have a better, or just different, way of getting your message across. Read the work of these writers, and read it often. Reading will not only show you some different techniques, it will broaden your vocabulary.
However, don't take that vocabulary and use it all in one story. I have personally known a couple of writers who use words that someone with a Ph.D. might know right off hand, but if I've got to reach for a dictionary to understand your article or story, I most likely won't be reading it again. On the same topic, KNOW YOUR AUDIENCE. If you are writing for a small- to mid-size newspaper, the eighth grade reading level rule still applies. If you are writing for the New York Times (you're not reading my blog, that's for sure), you can up that reading level quite a bit. While we're on the ego, that story is not about you. Unless it is a feature and inserting yourself into the story is definitely adding something to the flow, do not do it. The reader must never think about you when reading a story. If you are writing a story to get an award and not for your reader, stop typing... you should consider a career in politics instead.
I'll take comma splices for a thousand, Alex
I understand it is difficult to remember where to put or not put a comma, but know this information. The comma has a purpose, people. It is to be used as a way of giving the reader a tiny break. Just like most people can't run a marathon, most people cannot read several sentences jumbled into one without a break. As an editor, reading someone's work with the improper use or lack of commas when needed registers in the brain as one word: LAZY!
It also helps to know subject/verb agreement, how to avoid dangling modifiers and the subject or object of prepositions. If I'm reading a pile of stories, I'm going to hone in on the one to which I will have to do the least amount of work.
Lede me to the promised land
As an editor (theoretically speaking - I'm not anymore), my job is to not only look for mistakes, but to read the story as a reader. The first line(s) I read are the most important ones, so make them good. Make them damn good! You had better draw me into this story and make me want to read it. If this part of the story is poorly written, into the recycle bin it goes. No matter if you are writing for newspaper, magazine or newsletter, the good ol' inverted pyramid style is still a great guide.
Also, be descriptive but not too descriptive. The reader was not there, so it is your job to paint a picture for them. However, we don't need five chapters about what the stupid prairie looks like. That's fine for Laura Ingalls Wilder, but not for you. Being observant, however, is one of the best ways to get hired or published. When you describe something that most people may not notice but it is important to story, you are telling your editor that you are meticulous and giving the reader some fodder for the imagination.
The last piece of advice: Read your writing thoroughly before you send it to any editor!
There's probably way more advice to give, but I will leave that to people who are extremely good at what they do. Chris, for example, is a great writer and one of the best editors I have ever seen. His company has noticed this as well and has recently given him a sort of side position of editing the other writers' work before it goes online. His blog is the first listed on the left. Happy writing!
After being tagged by my France-dwelling friend Kari to share my knowledge of the written word and getting published, I pondered for a moment. What do I really know? So that anyone reading this won't think I'm pulling this out of my butt, I'll give you a quick overview of my credentials:
I have a Bachelor of Arts degree in communication with a concentration in journalism from Shorter College, an itsy bitsy college in Northwest Georgia. While in school, I was the editor of the college newspaper, which Kari also worked for (poor thing, had to take orders from me!). I also had an internship at my hometown paper, where I was allowed to cover county government while the usual reporter was back at school for a month. After graduation, I worked at the Rome News-Tribune in my current hometown, covering the city government and various other general assignment bits. When the lifestyles editor quit, I asked if I could fill in until they hired someone, stating my experience with layout and editing in college as qualifications. "Filling in" turned into a three-year stint. So, after three years of editing my little heart out, as well as continuing to write stories, I found that the design part of my job was what I loved best. But I still can't help to read things with an editor's eye (that's not to say I don't miss things).
That said, here is some advice that may contribute to Kari's original post on getting published:
Think you're a great writer? You're wrong!
I am not trying to bust your bubble, but if you think you are a great writer, you should just step down from that seat in the sky. There are always going to be writers that might have a better, or just different, way of getting your message across. Read the work of these writers, and read it often. Reading will not only show you some different techniques, it will broaden your vocabulary.
However, don't take that vocabulary and use it all in one story. I have personally known a couple of writers who use words that someone with a Ph.D. might know right off hand, but if I've got to reach for a dictionary to understand your article or story, I most likely won't be reading it again. On the same topic, KNOW YOUR AUDIENCE. If you are writing for a small- to mid-size newspaper, the eighth grade reading level rule still applies. If you are writing for the New York Times (you're not reading my blog, that's for sure), you can up that reading level quite a bit. While we're on the ego, that story is not about you. Unless it is a feature and inserting yourself into the story is definitely adding something to the flow, do not do it. The reader must never think about you when reading a story. If you are writing a story to get an award and not for your reader, stop typing... you should consider a career in politics instead.
I'll take comma splices for a thousand, Alex
I understand it is difficult to remember where to put or not put a comma, but know this information. The comma has a purpose, people. It is to be used as a way of giving the reader a tiny break. Just like most people can't run a marathon, most people cannot read several sentences jumbled into one without a break. As an editor, reading someone's work with the improper use or lack of commas when needed registers in the brain as one word: LAZY!
It also helps to know subject/verb agreement, how to avoid dangling modifiers and the subject or object of prepositions. If I'm reading a pile of stories, I'm going to hone in on the one to which I will have to do the least amount of work.
Lede me to the promised land
As an editor (theoretically speaking - I'm not anymore), my job is to not only look for mistakes, but to read the story as a reader. The first line(s) I read are the most important ones, so make them good. Make them damn good! You had better draw me into this story and make me want to read it. If this part of the story is poorly written, into the recycle bin it goes. No matter if you are writing for newspaper, magazine or newsletter, the good ol' inverted pyramid style is still a great guide.
Also, be descriptive but not too descriptive. The reader was not there, so it is your job to paint a picture for them. However, we don't need five chapters about what the stupid prairie looks like. That's fine for Laura Ingalls Wilder, but not for you. Being observant, however, is one of the best ways to get hired or published. When you describe something that most people may not notice but it is important to story, you are telling your editor that you are meticulous and giving the reader some fodder for the imagination.
The last piece of advice: Read your writing thoroughly before you send it to any editor!
There's probably way more advice to give, but I will leave that to people who are extremely good at what they do. Chris, for example, is a great writer and one of the best editors I have ever seen. His company has noticed this as well and has recently given him a sort of side position of editing the other writers' work before it goes online. His blog is the first listed on the left. Happy writing!
Dec 11, 2007
More Famous than I Thought!
So, in a random bit of boredom, I decided to Google my great grandfather (the one I mentioned in the last blog), Carlo Alberto Cappa. I always wondered how my relatives knew so much about him. We have quite a bit of documentation on him. Well, here are a few things that came up in my search (you may have to click on these to read them):
Now, I'm thinking if his death was News in the New York Times, he must have been pretty important! I just thought this was really cool. It also explains why every generation of this family (including me) has been a band geek for at least some period of time. I think we even have some copies of some of the music he wrote... very interesting...
Now, I'm thinking if his death was News in the New York Times, he must have been pretty important! I just thought this was really cool. It also explains why every generation of this family (including me) has been a band geek for at least some period of time. I think we even have some copies of some of the music he wrote... very interesting...
Dec 10, 2007
DD2
Today's dedication is devoted to my grandparents, Harold and Marie Hoffman. These were my dad's parents. When I was a child, they lived in Clearwater, Fla., just about 20 miles south of where we lived, close to Tampa. But they originally lived in New York, in a little spot called Mineola.
My grandfather, born Harold Bertrand Hoffman, was the grandson of Carlo Alberto Cappa, a military composer and musician who moved to the States from Northern Italy. Somewhere along the way, one of his children married a Hoffman - thus the German name. My grandmother, born Marie Katherine Gorman (I'm pretty sure that was her last name), was the daughter of an Irish man and an Italian woman. *note, I am going from memory on this but I do have the documentation at home*
Anyway, I was not only enamored of my grandparents but their rich history as well, so that's why I am including it. My grandparents raised their children in New York, sending them to Catholic schools, being the devout followers of the religion that they were. They had four boys and one girl. My dad was the fourth child (again, I think). Shortly following my grandfather's death, we were sent a family video that included footage from when my dad was just a baby. My grandfather was always silly with us, but after watching the video, I fully understand why my dad was such a great dad. My grandfather, or "Grump" as we called him - not because he was grumpy but because we couldn't say grandpa when we were little, would apparently dress up and put on shows for his children. He would be a villain out to get the only little girl and some of the older boys would have to rescue her with their toy guns and cowboy hats. It's quite a site to see. He was always playing tricks on my grandmother as well.
When I was between the ages of 3 and 6, we visited my grandparents at their house in Clearwater just about every weekend. This was my favorite thing to do EVER!!! Over there, we could play, be ourselves and eat the best snacks in the world. These snacks included fresh peaches, Pecan Sandies, peanut butter and raisin sandwiches and pretty much any other fruit our little hearts desired (it was Florida, fresh fruit was everywhere). Going to their house also meant we could spend the night in the room with the two twin beds where there were maracas sitting on the dresser. We could play around with the ukulele and mandolin and climb the massive tree out back. My grandmother and I would play several rounds of Go Fish. We'd have spaghetti for dinner, and I got to sit in a special chair just for me (Actually all the kids had once sat in it. It was high like a high chair only without the tray in the front.)
Grump would also take us fishing, although he really didn't drive too much. The man walked all the time, swam a couple times a week and sang in the choir at church. His voice was the most beautiful voice I have every heard!
When I was about 6 years old, we moved to Tennessee. I was not happy! We still visited my grandparents for a couple of years during vacation but it wasn't the same as getting to see them every weekend. When I was about 10, my grandmother got Alzheimer's and couldn't remember us when we came for a visit. I had to teach her how to play Go Fish again... not fun! Shortly after, she passed away. We weren't allowed to go see the body during the wake (thank God! Mom made a good decision there!). But during the funeral, my dad just sobbed. It was the only time I ever saw him cry. It was then that I knew she was even more special than I had thought.
Not too long after that, my grandfather sold their house and car and moved to Arizona to be with two of his sons. When I was about 12, he came to visit us in Tennessee because my dad was sick with cancer. It was a great visit and it made my dad feel a little better. Grump and I walked to the grocery store one day and just talked the whole time (We could have driven but I'm telling you, the man walked everywhere!). A few months later, I saw him for the last time at my dad's funeral. He was the only person I wanted to visit with, but he was having a hard time, too.
I didn't hear from Grump too much more for a while. For my high school graduation, he sent a card and $50 and told me to keep in touch. So when I went to college, I wrote him a couple times a month. I still have the letters he wrote to me. It was great getting that relationship back again. He even called one time and I asked him to sing for me. I don't even remember the song because I think it was in Italian, but it was beautiful - even over the phone. He asked me to sing, too, but I don't think it was quite to the caliber of his!
While at home for Christmas break my sophomore year (I think), we got a call from our uncle that Grump had died. He had had a stroke and died a few days later at the age of 89. A week before he died, my uncle said, he was still walking, swimming and singing in the church choir. Even though I didn't really cry when I found out my dad had died, I cried when I heard that Grump had died. I guess I had seen my dad go through an illness, so I was almost expecting it and knew he wasn't suffering any longer. But it was more sudden with Grump. He did, however, die on the same day my dad died, just years later - on New Year's Eve. Kind of weird really.
But if you read my post about dreams, that was the night I had the dream where Grump came to me and said "I'm OK." I'm not sure why I had this dream. I had no doubt that he was OK. He was one of the truest Christians I have ever known, always loving and caring and taking care of others.
I am grateful for the time I had with him but wish, like with my dad, that Chris could have met him. Chris has, however, seen the video and has proof of how crazy (in a good way) he was! All of my grandparents are dead now, but these two people will always remain with me! The short time I got to spend with them has made me a better person, and someday I hope to be as good of parents and grandparents as they were!
My grandfather, born Harold Bertrand Hoffman, was the grandson of Carlo Alberto Cappa, a military composer and musician who moved to the States from Northern Italy. Somewhere along the way, one of his children married a Hoffman - thus the German name. My grandmother, born Marie Katherine Gorman (I'm pretty sure that was her last name), was the daughter of an Irish man and an Italian woman. *note, I am going from memory on this but I do have the documentation at home*
Anyway, I was not only enamored of my grandparents but their rich history as well, so that's why I am including it. My grandparents raised their children in New York, sending them to Catholic schools, being the devout followers of the religion that they were. They had four boys and one girl. My dad was the fourth child (again, I think). Shortly following my grandfather's death, we were sent a family video that included footage from when my dad was just a baby. My grandfather was always silly with us, but after watching the video, I fully understand why my dad was such a great dad. My grandfather, or "Grump" as we called him - not because he was grumpy but because we couldn't say grandpa when we were little, would apparently dress up and put on shows for his children. He would be a villain out to get the only little girl and some of the older boys would have to rescue her with their toy guns and cowboy hats. It's quite a site to see. He was always playing tricks on my grandmother as well.
When I was between the ages of 3 and 6, we visited my grandparents at their house in Clearwater just about every weekend. This was my favorite thing to do EVER!!! Over there, we could play, be ourselves and eat the best snacks in the world. These snacks included fresh peaches, Pecan Sandies, peanut butter and raisin sandwiches and pretty much any other fruit our little hearts desired (it was Florida, fresh fruit was everywhere). Going to their house also meant we could spend the night in the room with the two twin beds where there were maracas sitting on the dresser. We could play around with the ukulele and mandolin and climb the massive tree out back. My grandmother and I would play several rounds of Go Fish. We'd have spaghetti for dinner, and I got to sit in a special chair just for me (Actually all the kids had once sat in it. It was high like a high chair only without the tray in the front.)
Grump would also take us fishing, although he really didn't drive too much. The man walked all the time, swam a couple times a week and sang in the choir at church. His voice was the most beautiful voice I have every heard!
When I was about 6 years old, we moved to Tennessee. I was not happy! We still visited my grandparents for a couple of years during vacation but it wasn't the same as getting to see them every weekend. When I was about 10, my grandmother got Alzheimer's and couldn't remember us when we came for a visit. I had to teach her how to play Go Fish again... not fun! Shortly after, she passed away. We weren't allowed to go see the body during the wake (thank God! Mom made a good decision there!). But during the funeral, my dad just sobbed. It was the only time I ever saw him cry. It was then that I knew she was even more special than I had thought.
Not too long after that, my grandfather sold their house and car and moved to Arizona to be with two of his sons. When I was about 12, he came to visit us in Tennessee because my dad was sick with cancer. It was a great visit and it made my dad feel a little better. Grump and I walked to the grocery store one day and just talked the whole time (We could have driven but I'm telling you, the man walked everywhere!). A few months later, I saw him for the last time at my dad's funeral. He was the only person I wanted to visit with, but he was having a hard time, too.
I didn't hear from Grump too much more for a while. For my high school graduation, he sent a card and $50 and told me to keep in touch. So when I went to college, I wrote him a couple times a month. I still have the letters he wrote to me. It was great getting that relationship back again. He even called one time and I asked him to sing for me. I don't even remember the song because I think it was in Italian, but it was beautiful - even over the phone. He asked me to sing, too, but I don't think it was quite to the caliber of his!
While at home for Christmas break my sophomore year (I think), we got a call from our uncle that Grump had died. He had had a stroke and died a few days later at the age of 89. A week before he died, my uncle said, he was still walking, swimming and singing in the church choir. Even though I didn't really cry when I found out my dad had died, I cried when I heard that Grump had died. I guess I had seen my dad go through an illness, so I was almost expecting it and knew he wasn't suffering any longer. But it was more sudden with Grump. He did, however, die on the same day my dad died, just years later - on New Year's Eve. Kind of weird really.
But if you read my post about dreams, that was the night I had the dream where Grump came to me and said "I'm OK." I'm not sure why I had this dream. I had no doubt that he was OK. He was one of the truest Christians I have ever known, always loving and caring and taking care of others.
I am grateful for the time I had with him but wish, like with my dad, that Chris could have met him. Chris has, however, seen the video and has proof of how crazy (in a good way) he was! All of my grandparents are dead now, but these two people will always remain with me! The short time I got to spend with them has made me a better person, and someday I hope to be as good of parents and grandparents as they were!
Dec 6, 2007
AIDS, Coworkers and the Baby Jesus
Earlier this week, I dialed the number for the AIDS Resource Council here in Rome, my usual Christmas-time ritual. For the past couple of years now, beginning at the paper, Chris and I have participated in basically "adopting" a child or two from them for Christmas. The volunteers there send a sheet with the child's first name, age, sex and clothing sizes, along with the top three items this child wants for Christmas. Last year, I helped get others at the paper involved (Sonya did it the year before), and it was addictive. So I called the council and had them send the information for seven kids over, thinking I would ask coworkers at my current employment to pitch in.
The volunteer explained to me that they have many teenagers this year and that many people just want to buy for the little kids. So I told her to send the teens' info right over. I then sent out an e-mail to the entire PR department, which includes 9 or 10 people, explaining how the procedure works and asking if anyone would like to participate. My thought: "Oh, I work here now where people are nice and supposedly Christians, so they should eat this up!" WRONG!
I had a few people say they would like to do this. One got a sheet and will be shopping soon. Another got a sheet and was very reluctant about the whole thing, informing me that she usually spends about $1600 on Christmas for family and neighbors who she really doesn't like buying for but she's done it forever so she has to continue (in other words, she's a push-over). I'm thinking: " Wow, $1600 on Christmas! It's time to say 'no' to those who don't need it so you can maybe help some that do." But I can't tell people how to spend their money...
Then, another coworker decides that we should do this instead of buying gifts for each other (this was the first I had heard about buying gifts for each other, by the way). I think this sounds like a good idea until he suggests that we have a meeting about it and I present. You know, unnecessary meetings are the highlight of my life and all, and being the presenter just makes it better. So to get him back at said meeting I open with, "Since Roger (using an alias here) didn't read the e-mail I sent out about this program, I'll repeat what I wrote in it to explain how this goes." I know I have a big mouth, but that's what you get for calling a meeting.
By the end of the unnecessary meeting, "we" have decided to take one child and seven of us contribute $25 to buy this kid a $100 skateboard and some DVDs. The coworker who spends $1600 each year put her kid back in the pile. Take away the one kid that another coworker so generously took and the two kids Chris and I will buy for and this leaves three kids in my hands with no Christmas presents. FABULOUS!
How did something that was supposed to be fun and giving turn into a meeting and leave three kids with nothing? Oh, and he wanted ME to go shopping for the kid. (Can you tell this guy loves to delegate even though he's not the boss?) I suggested someone else go since my husband and I would already be doing this for other kids. Now I have to find someone else to adopt these kids, possibly buy for them myself or send them back to ARC, which is not an option. (Last year, some woman committed to buying for two sisters and about three days before the gifts had to be in she bailed out. So the ARC volunteer called me asking if I could help. You betcha! I just can't see these kids going without a Christmas!)
I don't really want to send out a mass e-mail... I hate those. I may be contacting our church to see if they would help. They are extremely giving and do a lot for the community already. If for some reason they can't, I may call the newspaper. Who knew that the people at the newspaper would help out more willingly than the new fellow employees?!
I suppose I'm quite disappointed, but as I told Chris the other day, I think I just expect too much out of people. I've always been this way, and I'm beginning to think it's one of my biggest downfalls. I know I could do so much more to make the world a better place on so many levels, so I guess I can't be so critical. But every job I've ever had and everything I've set my mind to doing, I've done to the best of my ability and am constantly surrounded by a big bunch of half-assers! I shouldn't have to use half my strength or abilities to motivate those around me to just do what is required, much less any more.
Well, I will take the kids' info, try to give them a great Christmas and know that I tried. I'm telling you what, bah frickin' humbug! What do people have against the baby Jesus anyway?
The volunteer explained to me that they have many teenagers this year and that many people just want to buy for the little kids. So I told her to send the teens' info right over. I then sent out an e-mail to the entire PR department, which includes 9 or 10 people, explaining how the procedure works and asking if anyone would like to participate. My thought: "Oh, I work here now where people are nice and supposedly Christians, so they should eat this up!" WRONG!
I had a few people say they would like to do this. One got a sheet and will be shopping soon. Another got a sheet and was very reluctant about the whole thing, informing me that she usually spends about $1600 on Christmas for family and neighbors who she really doesn't like buying for but she's done it forever so she has to continue (in other words, she's a push-over). I'm thinking: " Wow, $1600 on Christmas! It's time to say 'no' to those who don't need it so you can maybe help some that do." But I can't tell people how to spend their money...
Then, another coworker decides that we should do this instead of buying gifts for each other (this was the first I had heard about buying gifts for each other, by the way). I think this sounds like a good idea until he suggests that we have a meeting about it and I present. You know, unnecessary meetings are the highlight of my life and all, and being the presenter just makes it better. So to get him back at said meeting I open with, "Since Roger (using an alias here) didn't read the e-mail I sent out about this program, I'll repeat what I wrote in it to explain how this goes." I know I have a big mouth, but that's what you get for calling a meeting.
By the end of the unnecessary meeting, "we" have decided to take one child and seven of us contribute $25 to buy this kid a $100 skateboard and some DVDs. The coworker who spends $1600 each year put her kid back in the pile. Take away the one kid that another coworker so generously took and the two kids Chris and I will buy for and this leaves three kids in my hands with no Christmas presents. FABULOUS!
How did something that was supposed to be fun and giving turn into a meeting and leave three kids with nothing? Oh, and he wanted ME to go shopping for the kid. (Can you tell this guy loves to delegate even though he's not the boss?) I suggested someone else go since my husband and I would already be doing this for other kids. Now I have to find someone else to adopt these kids, possibly buy for them myself or send them back to ARC, which is not an option. (Last year, some woman committed to buying for two sisters and about three days before the gifts had to be in she bailed out. So the ARC volunteer called me asking if I could help. You betcha! I just can't see these kids going without a Christmas!)
I don't really want to send out a mass e-mail... I hate those. I may be contacting our church to see if they would help. They are extremely giving and do a lot for the community already. If for some reason they can't, I may call the newspaper. Who knew that the people at the newspaper would help out more willingly than the new fellow employees?!
I suppose I'm quite disappointed, but as I told Chris the other day, I think I just expect too much out of people. I've always been this way, and I'm beginning to think it's one of my biggest downfalls. I know I could do so much more to make the world a better place on so many levels, so I guess I can't be so critical. But every job I've ever had and everything I've set my mind to doing, I've done to the best of my ability and am constantly surrounded by a big bunch of half-assers! I shouldn't have to use half my strength or abilities to motivate those around me to just do what is required, much less any more.
Well, I will take the kids' info, try to give them a great Christmas and know that I tried. I'm telling you what, bah frickin' humbug! What do people have against the baby Jesus anyway?
Dec 3, 2007
December Dedications
I have been inspired by my rotten friend, Jacob, (hey, if I'm mean, that's what he's gettin') to write about those who I care about the most and am thinking I will devote random posts in December to this. I won't be writing the sappy posts every day, because then anyone who reads this blog would probably stop reading it! But to start off my December Dedications, I'll be writing about someone who is truly near and dear to my heart: Sadie (for those of you who don't know, that's my dog).
Some of my readers, or perhaps all, are probably thinking that I am a little obsessed with my dog. Well, I am, but maybe after you read this, you'll understand why.
Growing up (It all goes back to childhood, doesn't it? I swear, I'm like a psychologist's dream...), I was the youngest in a family of four kids (well, technically there were five but the oldest died before I was even born). Anyhoo, most of my siblings were quite a bit older than me and doing the teenager things once I was old enough to want someone to play with. With my dad being a huge animal-lover, we always had a dog. My "little sister" growing up was our dog, Sassy. She was a mid-size, German Shepherd mix who was as sweet as can be with a little twist of attitude. We had that dog for 12 years, and the day I got the call that she had passed, it was my first semester at college. I crawled in my closet and cried so hard (my roommates weren't really dog people and didn't understand, so I hid).
Six years later, Chris and I finally got a house, which for me meant that we could finally get a dog. It had been long enough without one! I don't think I could have gotten another right away, but it was finally time. So, not even two weeks after signing the papers for the house, we were at the pound. (keep in mind Chris had never had a dog as a pet and was nervous about the whole thing) The animal shelter in Rome has two pretty long aisles with about 10 to 12 cages on one side filled with dogs. We went down the first aisle and saw some nice looking dogs (of course, I'd adopt them all if I could) but no puppies. It's my experience to get a dog when they are a puppy and "raise" them the way you would like, but I would try it with an adult dog. Anyway, we then made our way down the second aisle and I was starting to get a little disappointed. We then got to the last cage, which was full of puppies, all cute and adorable, but one stood out among the rest. It was like she knew she had to make herself noticeable. There she was, climbing on top of every other puppy and poking her short muzzle through the fence. Her face looked just like my childhood friend and I instantly fell in love.
Even with her horrible smell and the hole in her side (The morons at the pound had put her with a full-grown German Shepherd, which bit her. So she had a hole the size of a tooth in her side.), we took her home. According to the vet, she was about five months old, so not long after bringing her home and having the infection drained out of her side, she was on the vet table again to be spayed. The poor thing has also had a puppy cold and was once stung by a bee in the face, which swelled up like a balloon (kind of funny, but I was a little worried!). She has seemingly been thankful we took her out of that pound every since that first day.
Sadie is about to turn three in January (we think anyway!). This dog is so smart and so well-behaved. It only took us about two months, if that, to completely train her to not pee or poop in the house. She now has free reign of the entire house and has a "bladder of steel," as Chris calls it. She has gone more than 12 hours at the house without peeing or pooping until we got home to take her outside. She's great with kids, too. Anytime the nieces or nephews come over and are picking and prodding at her, she just takes it. She sleeps on the couch but knows that she really shouldn't get up there unless there's a blanket. We also take her for walks a lot, either around the block, at the lake in our neighborhood or at one of the local parks. She rarely ever gets put on the leash. She just stays with us! It's awesome!
Just last night, however, Chris and I were discussing her vocabulary. Now, I know people who think that dogs don't know words, and frankly, they are morons. I even interviewed about four blind people in Rome shortly before my exit out of the Rome News-Tribune who said that their seeing-eye dogs know about 35 to 40 commands. These aren't the usual commands either. These are full sentences like, "Find the church. Find the elevator. Take me home, etc." Sadie isn't quite at this status, but here are some of the commands, words and phrases she knows:
obviously, she knows her name
sit
lie down (yes, we use correct grammar with our dog)
shake
high five
easy (this is when I'm putting a treat on her nose. She tosses it up and catches it. She's a freakin' genius!)
treat
stay (she's still working on this one a bit)
heel (this one too)
come
walk (this single word will evoke massive jumping, licking and wagging!)
go
eat
water
pee
poop (yeah, she knows the difference)
cuddle
bed time
that's not for you (usually said when we have food)
Lexi (her best friend in the dog world)
kisses (not that she ever needs this command)
no
good girl/bad girl (although I think this one has more to do with the tone)
bath (if I say this and grab her shampoo and a towel, she goes into the bathroom and sits next to the tub)
bone
swimming (although we haven't done this one in a while)
There's possibly more, but I can't think of anything else right now. But on top of all her doggy knowledge and good behavior, she's really a sweetheart. She's SO happy when Chris or I come home and even when we just walk into a room. She's a lick-a-holic (possibly her only downfall - other than how she reacts to getting her nails cut). I know that she will most likely die way before I do, and I just try not to think about it. Anytime you come over to the our house, you will be greeted warmly by Sadie. She helps make our little family what it is!.
Some of my readers, or perhaps all, are probably thinking that I am a little obsessed with my dog. Well, I am, but maybe after you read this, you'll understand why.
Growing up (It all goes back to childhood, doesn't it? I swear, I'm like a psychologist's dream...), I was the youngest in a family of four kids (well, technically there were five but the oldest died before I was even born). Anyhoo, most of my siblings were quite a bit older than me and doing the teenager things once I was old enough to want someone to play with. With my dad being a huge animal-lover, we always had a dog. My "little sister" growing up was our dog, Sassy. She was a mid-size, German Shepherd mix who was as sweet as can be with a little twist of attitude. We had that dog for 12 years, and the day I got the call that she had passed, it was my first semester at college. I crawled in my closet and cried so hard (my roommates weren't really dog people and didn't understand, so I hid).
Six years later, Chris and I finally got a house, which for me meant that we could finally get a dog. It had been long enough without one! I don't think I could have gotten another right away, but it was finally time. So, not even two weeks after signing the papers for the house, we were at the pound. (keep in mind Chris had never had a dog as a pet and was nervous about the whole thing) The animal shelter in Rome has two pretty long aisles with about 10 to 12 cages on one side filled with dogs. We went down the first aisle and saw some nice looking dogs (of course, I'd adopt them all if I could) but no puppies. It's my experience to get a dog when they are a puppy and "raise" them the way you would like, but I would try it with an adult dog. Anyway, we then made our way down the second aisle and I was starting to get a little disappointed. We then got to the last cage, which was full of puppies, all cute and adorable, but one stood out among the rest. It was like she knew she had to make herself noticeable. There she was, climbing on top of every other puppy and poking her short muzzle through the fence. Her face looked just like my childhood friend and I instantly fell in love.
Even with her horrible smell and the hole in her side (The morons at the pound had put her with a full-grown German Shepherd, which bit her. So she had a hole the size of a tooth in her side.), we took her home. According to the vet, she was about five months old, so not long after bringing her home and having the infection drained out of her side, she was on the vet table again to be spayed. The poor thing has also had a puppy cold and was once stung by a bee in the face, which swelled up like a balloon (kind of funny, but I was a little worried!). She has seemingly been thankful we took her out of that pound every since that first day.
Sadie is about to turn three in January (we think anyway!). This dog is so smart and so well-behaved. It only took us about two months, if that, to completely train her to not pee or poop in the house. She now has free reign of the entire house and has a "bladder of steel," as Chris calls it. She has gone more than 12 hours at the house without peeing or pooping until we got home to take her outside. She's great with kids, too. Anytime the nieces or nephews come over and are picking and prodding at her, she just takes it. She sleeps on the couch but knows that she really shouldn't get up there unless there's a blanket. We also take her for walks a lot, either around the block, at the lake in our neighborhood or at one of the local parks. She rarely ever gets put on the leash. She just stays with us! It's awesome!
Just last night, however, Chris and I were discussing her vocabulary. Now, I know people who think that dogs don't know words, and frankly, they are morons. I even interviewed about four blind people in Rome shortly before my exit out of the Rome News-Tribune who said that their seeing-eye dogs know about 35 to 40 commands. These aren't the usual commands either. These are full sentences like, "Find the church. Find the elevator. Take me home, etc." Sadie isn't quite at this status, but here are some of the commands, words and phrases she knows:
obviously, she knows her name
sit
lie down (yes, we use correct grammar with our dog)
shake
high five
easy (this is when I'm putting a treat on her nose. She tosses it up and catches it. She's a freakin' genius!)
treat
stay (she's still working on this one a bit)
heel (this one too)
come
walk (this single word will evoke massive jumping, licking and wagging!)
go
eat
water
pee
poop (yeah, she knows the difference)
cuddle
bed time
that's not for you (usually said when we have food)
Lexi (her best friend in the dog world)
kisses (not that she ever needs this command)
no
good girl/bad girl (although I think this one has more to do with the tone)
bath (if I say this and grab her shampoo and a towel, she goes into the bathroom and sits next to the tub)
bone
swimming (although we haven't done this one in a while)
There's possibly more, but I can't think of anything else right now. But on top of all her doggy knowledge and good behavior, she's really a sweetheart. She's SO happy when Chris or I come home and even when we just walk into a room. She's a lick-a-holic (possibly her only downfall - other than how she reacts to getting her nails cut). I know that she will most likely die way before I do, and I just try not to think about it. Anytime you come over to the our house, you will be greeted warmly by Sadie. She helps make our little family what it is!.
Nov 29, 2007
In A Perfect World
In a perfect world, no one, child or adult, would ever go without a meal, a place to sleep or happiness. Maybe it would be my job to make this happen (well not sure I could do much about the happiness part). I would have a cute little bungalow out in the middle of nowhere (but somewhere in Italy) with tons of land so that I could adopt every stray dog that came my way. I would have enough money to feed those dogs.
In a perfect world, there would be no mental illness, no cancer, no AIDS and no one losing a loved one before the age of 70. Now, without those things, you'd think there'd be overpopulation. Not if you had to QUALIFY to reproduce. In a perfect world, past history, a thorough mental evaluation, sample scenarios recorded on video and possibly financial stability would all have to be considered to begin even the idea of parenting. But people also wouldn't get married unless they were really ready and with the right person.
In a perfect world, I could eat as much ice cream, pasta and potatoes as I want (wait, I kind of already do that) and I wouldn't gain a pound (not this part). But I would also always have time to work out and time to relax. I would spend half my time doing a job in front of a computer and the other half doing physical labor and we would all work four days a week instead of five (or more for some people). We would not have alarm clocks. We'd just get up when the sun came in the window, and we would get home from work long before the sun went down, even in the winter.
In a perfect world, I would also be a singer that could play the guitar and piano and possibly the drums. I'd have a band of super-talented people. I would also be a dancer. I don't know when I'd be able to do all this, but who cares. I wouldn't necessarily get paid to do the entertainment stuff.
The temperature outside would always be somewhere between 55 and 85 and it would rain three days a week and only at night. We'd get to travel at least six weeks out of the year and not have to go through customs or worry about someone taking our plane down. I'd have a pool with the walls gradually getting lower so that all my dogs could go swimming with me and would be able to get out without freaking out.
In a VERY perfect world, there would be no cheerleaders. There would be no social classes, just people. No one would have to wear glasses unless they just wanted to. The high school band would get credit for being able to memorize formations, march keeping the ass tight and the feet up, memorizing three to four songs and being able to play all those songs well while ALWAYS facing the crowd and not running into each other. But there would be no Crocs, Uggs (that's for you, Courtney), stirrup pants, leggings, sagging pants, too-tight-for-me pants, button-down shirts that pop open at the bust and no need for whatever those hats are really called that everyone around here calls a toboggan (that's a sleigh people!)
In a perfect world, cars would have no emissions and would never break down. Heating and air conditioning units would never go out. Installing a light fixture would not take two and a half hours. Bosses would have their jobs because they have the ability to do all the jobs under their supervision and do them well - and because they are GREAT with people. Newspapers would be as unbiased as they can. TV news would not exist. Only music would be heard on the radio. There would only be one country station and only people who could perform well LIVE could be in the entertainment business.
Mass e-mails would not be sent out to an entire company that have nothing to do with the population as a whole. "If you love Jesus, send this to eight people" e-mails would not exist (I don't think pushing the send button counts as fruit of the spirit people). Porn would not exist (sorry guys!). Disney World would not exist (sorry, Six Flags seems like a way more happenin' place to me). Everyone would know how to swim, ride a bike and would have sleepovers (kid or adult, it's fun!).
There would be no yellow or orange candy. The only brand of root beer would be Barq's. Domino's Pizza would not exist - or Krystal... or McDonald's. Starbucks wouldn't charge $4 for a cup of joe. Buffets would not exist. Old people would not drive, and old woman would not chop off all their hair (seriously, if you are 50 or older, why do you have to get rid of it all?). Christmas songs would only be played on the radio for the two weeks before Christmas, and only people like Vince Guaraldi could record Christmas albums (definitely no country versions). Kids would not play video games for any longer than an hour a week.
In a perfect world, people would not put clothes on their pets or dress their kids to look like mommy or daddy - or their twin. No one would need a leash for their pet... or kid. I wouldn't have had to take any history classes in college (sorry nerds, I just don't like the subject so much), and I wouldn't have had to work during college. In a perfect world, girls wouldn't be so jealous, have to go to the bathroom together or gossip quite as much. Men would be decisive, not pee on the toilet and not scratch their jewels in public.
In a perfect world, everyone would have the love of a mate as wonderful as mine. My family wouldn't be quite as crazy, and everyone would be required to work (even if it's just a little). Everyone would have a best friend since fifth grade who loves them despite all their flaws. Everyone would have a brother who supports them and can do the runnin' man and the worm like mine.
In a perfect world...
In a perfect world, there would be no mental illness, no cancer, no AIDS and no one losing a loved one before the age of 70. Now, without those things, you'd think there'd be overpopulation. Not if you had to QUALIFY to reproduce. In a perfect world, past history, a thorough mental evaluation, sample scenarios recorded on video and possibly financial stability would all have to be considered to begin even the idea of parenting. But people also wouldn't get married unless they were really ready and with the right person.
In a perfect world, I could eat as much ice cream, pasta and potatoes as I want (wait, I kind of already do that) and I wouldn't gain a pound (not this part). But I would also always have time to work out and time to relax. I would spend half my time doing a job in front of a computer and the other half doing physical labor and we would all work four days a week instead of five (or more for some people). We would not have alarm clocks. We'd just get up when the sun came in the window, and we would get home from work long before the sun went down, even in the winter.
In a perfect world, I would also be a singer that could play the guitar and piano and possibly the drums. I'd have a band of super-talented people. I would also be a dancer. I don't know when I'd be able to do all this, but who cares. I wouldn't necessarily get paid to do the entertainment stuff.
The temperature outside would always be somewhere between 55 and 85 and it would rain three days a week and only at night. We'd get to travel at least six weeks out of the year and not have to go through customs or worry about someone taking our plane down. I'd have a pool with the walls gradually getting lower so that all my dogs could go swimming with me and would be able to get out without freaking out.
In a VERY perfect world, there would be no cheerleaders. There would be no social classes, just people. No one would have to wear glasses unless they just wanted to. The high school band would get credit for being able to memorize formations, march keeping the ass tight and the feet up, memorizing three to four songs and being able to play all those songs well while ALWAYS facing the crowd and not running into each other. But there would be no Crocs, Uggs (that's for you, Courtney), stirrup pants, leggings, sagging pants, too-tight-for-me pants, button-down shirts that pop open at the bust and no need for whatever those hats are really called that everyone around here calls a toboggan (that's a sleigh people!)
In a perfect world, cars would have no emissions and would never break down. Heating and air conditioning units would never go out. Installing a light fixture would not take two and a half hours. Bosses would have their jobs because they have the ability to do all the jobs under their supervision and do them well - and because they are GREAT with people. Newspapers would be as unbiased as they can. TV news would not exist. Only music would be heard on the radio. There would only be one country station and only people who could perform well LIVE could be in the entertainment business.
Mass e-mails would not be sent out to an entire company that have nothing to do with the population as a whole. "If you love Jesus, send this to eight people" e-mails would not exist (I don't think pushing the send button counts as fruit of the spirit people). Porn would not exist (sorry guys!). Disney World would not exist (sorry, Six Flags seems like a way more happenin' place to me). Everyone would know how to swim, ride a bike and would have sleepovers (kid or adult, it's fun!).
There would be no yellow or orange candy. The only brand of root beer would be Barq's. Domino's Pizza would not exist - or Krystal... or McDonald's. Starbucks wouldn't charge $4 for a cup of joe. Buffets would not exist. Old people would not drive, and old woman would not chop off all their hair (seriously, if you are 50 or older, why do you have to get rid of it all?). Christmas songs would only be played on the radio for the two weeks before Christmas, and only people like Vince Guaraldi could record Christmas albums (definitely no country versions). Kids would not play video games for any longer than an hour a week.
In a perfect world, people would not put clothes on their pets or dress their kids to look like mommy or daddy - or their twin. No one would need a leash for their pet... or kid. I wouldn't have had to take any history classes in college (sorry nerds, I just don't like the subject so much), and I wouldn't have had to work during college. In a perfect world, girls wouldn't be so jealous, have to go to the bathroom together or gossip quite as much. Men would be decisive, not pee on the toilet and not scratch their jewels in public.
In a perfect world, everyone would have the love of a mate as wonderful as mine. My family wouldn't be quite as crazy, and everyone would be required to work (even if it's just a little). Everyone would have a best friend since fifth grade who loves them despite all their flaws. Everyone would have a brother who supports them and can do the runnin' man and the worm like mine.
In a perfect world...
Nov 28, 2007
Ode to Severo
On a cold and blustery day, my mouse settled on a land of insults and a supposed emotionless plight. Here, in this territory buried deep in cyberspace, an old, dark, 120-pound newspaper man had decided he was the authority on the blogging of his peers. This hater of the blogs - who in his first two days of hurling disparaging comments upon those more fortunate in brain power and comprehension of important issues had written more blogs than the average author - has made it his fate to deconstruct all that is whole and true in thought and measure.
Why, oh why, must this bacon-loving, Stevie Nicks-adoring, Lola-toting fiend carry such a grudge against his fellow man? Because this self-proclaimed emotionless wit is showing his love for his neighbor. That's right. The school yard behavior of crushing those in which you place the most care has ne'er left his wary side, despite the many years he carries.
After much time in the faraway lands of Belize and Kentucky, this not-so-well traveled, former spoiled Latin American inhabitant has made the decision to attempt to humiliate those more fortunate who have written their ideas on said blogs... by creating a blog. This act has proven one thing: It's apparently not an erroneous deed to create a blog, since, as we all well know, actions speak louder than words.
I will draw your attention to the list on his blog, www.baconsoupbysevero.blogspot.com, in which, for the second time in two days, little brown one has decided to poke fun at those who have declared their thankfulness. In said list, "Loree" says she is grateful for such blessings as "husband, The Office and Macs," among many other items. Little brown one, though complimenting several other items on the list, insults the author for stating her gratitude for listing those mentioned above. Husband: Knowing the insulter, he is most likely hiding some pent-up sexual aggression toward her husband or one of his friends. The Office: Anyone who doesn't like this show is a moron, and well, basically just doesn't get it. Macs: When you work on a PC that crashes every four hours and you're OK with that, I suppose you wouldn't like a Mac - the superior being of all that is technological.
Overall, little brown one's blog is slightly humorous but has not lived up to its title, taken from the jocular "Talk Soup." Maybe some day, oh player of tennis and insulter of allies, you will equal the wisdom and banter of such greats as Jon Stewart, Steven Colbert and the writers of The Onion. Until then, I bid adieu.
Why, oh why, must this bacon-loving, Stevie Nicks-adoring, Lola-toting fiend carry such a grudge against his fellow man? Because this self-proclaimed emotionless wit is showing his love for his neighbor. That's right. The school yard behavior of crushing those in which you place the most care has ne'er left his wary side, despite the many years he carries.
After much time in the faraway lands of Belize and Kentucky, this not-so-well traveled, former spoiled Latin American inhabitant has made the decision to attempt to humiliate those more fortunate who have written their ideas on said blogs... by creating a blog. This act has proven one thing: It's apparently not an erroneous deed to create a blog, since, as we all well know, actions speak louder than words.
I will draw your attention to the list on his blog, www.baconsoupbysevero.blogspot.com, in which, for the second time in two days, little brown one has decided to poke fun at those who have declared their thankfulness. In said list, "Loree" says she is grateful for such blessings as "husband, The Office and Macs," among many other items. Little brown one, though complimenting several other items on the list, insults the author for stating her gratitude for listing those mentioned above. Husband: Knowing the insulter, he is most likely hiding some pent-up sexual aggression toward her husband or one of his friends. The Office: Anyone who doesn't like this show is a moron, and well, basically just doesn't get it. Macs: When you work on a PC that crashes every four hours and you're OK with that, I suppose you wouldn't like a Mac - the superior being of all that is technological.
Overall, little brown one's blog is slightly humorous but has not lived up to its title, taken from the jocular "Talk Soup." Maybe some day, oh player of tennis and insulter of allies, you will equal the wisdom and banter of such greats as Jon Stewart, Steven Colbert and the writers of The Onion. Until then, I bid adieu.
Nov 26, 2007
Pros and Cons of Thanksgiving
Well, the long weekend has past and I feel rejuvenated yet not ready to come back to work. But in mulling over the events of the past few days, I have decided to make a pros and cons list of Thanksgiving. So here goes:
Pros
The food: There's always plenty to choose from, and I usually eat too much...
Family: It's great to see everyone after not seeing them for months, especially Chris' grandmother - Arlene - she's an amazing woman and though she's sweet as can be, she'll tell it like it is. I respect that in a person. No bull crap!
Weather: in Georgia and Tennessee, the last Thursday in November usually means beautiful colors and cool temperatures. This year it was a little cooler than usual, but it's nothing like what we would be feeling up north.
Traveling: Though being in a car is not the best way to have fun, it allows us to have a great view. Driving from Rome to Cleveland, we tend to take Highway 225 quite a bit, which is SO beautiful and beats the interstate any day.
Babies: Though you probably wouldn't think I even like kids from some of my past blogs, I really do. And on Thanksgiving I get to see lots of babies/kids. My favorites include: Kylee, Hannah, Sarah (all at the age of 3 and all with their own personality), Isaac (who I didn't get to see this year but is the smartest kid I know), Cadence and the new addition to the family, Josiah (yeah, that's his name - the parents are very much into biblical names). All of these kids make me laugh. And best of all, I get to play with them and then give them back.
Chris: It's always good to have a day, or a few days, off with my favorite person in the whole world!
Reflection: It's a great time to think about all the blessings in our lives!
Cons
The food: Yeah, there's plenty of it, but I seem to be a little pickier than I once was. People may get offended, but I don't like stuffing with a half pound of sage in it, dry turkey, flat biscuits, gravy that is congealed or dessert that is nothing but pure sugar!
Family: I love them, but oh my gosh! Chris' dad's side of the family is great. There's like 40 people in one house and we all seem to get along and just enjoy being together. Then we go to Debbie Downer's house, where we'll hear about the latest death in town or get chewed out for not visiting enough (and they wonder why we don't visit more often). Then there's my family, which is a mix of good and crazy! I love seeing all of them, especially my brother Matt and his family and my sister. My other brother hasn't shown up for a family gathering in about three or four years, and my mom always seems to make it about her, even just for a few minutes... But, like I said, I love 'em!
Birthday: Like a few years in the past, my birthday fell on Thanksgiving this year. Some people think this is great. No, it's not. I don't like sharing MY day with a turkey or that part of the family that is on the cons list. No one remembers it's your birthday, and maybe they wouldn't anyway. But I wouldn't be around to see that they forgot. It really doesn't piss me off as much as it sounds like. I have a great husband who always makes me feel special. Also, my awesome best friend and I have made a pact to make each other's birthday special since a) we are getting older and no one cares and b) my birthday falls a month before Christmas and hers falls about two weeks after Christmas. We both always get the old "well, this is your birthday AND your Christmas present." Nice...
Weight gain: I don't think I actually gained any weight, but it felt like it. I tried to do moderation each day, but when there's like 1,000 calories per three bites, it gets difficult. Oh well! I'll just have to run my ass off... literally!
Abandonment: I have to leave my dog too much around the holidays. I mean, everyone gets to bring their snotty, coughing, screaming kids. (here I go sounding like I don't like kids again) Why can't I bring my sweet puppy? Yeah, she sheds and licks people a lot but that's it! She'll help entertain the children, eat scraps off the floor and is happy to see everyone. One of these days I'll convince everyone that dogs are better than most people!
So that's it I guess. I'm sure you all share some of these feelings about your own Thanksgiving celebrations. Overall, I really had a great weekend and hope you all did, too!
Pros
The food: There's always plenty to choose from, and I usually eat too much...
Family: It's great to see everyone after not seeing them for months, especially Chris' grandmother - Arlene - she's an amazing woman and though she's sweet as can be, she'll tell it like it is. I respect that in a person. No bull crap!
Weather: in Georgia and Tennessee, the last Thursday in November usually means beautiful colors and cool temperatures. This year it was a little cooler than usual, but it's nothing like what we would be feeling up north.
Traveling: Though being in a car is not the best way to have fun, it allows us to have a great view. Driving from Rome to Cleveland, we tend to take Highway 225 quite a bit, which is SO beautiful and beats the interstate any day.
Babies: Though you probably wouldn't think I even like kids from some of my past blogs, I really do. And on Thanksgiving I get to see lots of babies/kids. My favorites include: Kylee, Hannah, Sarah (all at the age of 3 and all with their own personality), Isaac (who I didn't get to see this year but is the smartest kid I know), Cadence and the new addition to the family, Josiah (yeah, that's his name - the parents are very much into biblical names). All of these kids make me laugh. And best of all, I get to play with them and then give them back.
Chris: It's always good to have a day, or a few days, off with my favorite person in the whole world!
Reflection: It's a great time to think about all the blessings in our lives!
Cons
The food: Yeah, there's plenty of it, but I seem to be a little pickier than I once was. People may get offended, but I don't like stuffing with a half pound of sage in it, dry turkey, flat biscuits, gravy that is congealed or dessert that is nothing but pure sugar!
Family: I love them, but oh my gosh! Chris' dad's side of the family is great. There's like 40 people in one house and we all seem to get along and just enjoy being together. Then we go to Debbie Downer's house, where we'll hear about the latest death in town or get chewed out for not visiting enough (and they wonder why we don't visit more often). Then there's my family, which is a mix of good and crazy! I love seeing all of them, especially my brother Matt and his family and my sister. My other brother hasn't shown up for a family gathering in about three or four years, and my mom always seems to make it about her, even just for a few minutes... But, like I said, I love 'em!
Birthday: Like a few years in the past, my birthday fell on Thanksgiving this year. Some people think this is great. No, it's not. I don't like sharing MY day with a turkey or that part of the family that is on the cons list. No one remembers it's your birthday, and maybe they wouldn't anyway. But I wouldn't be around to see that they forgot. It really doesn't piss me off as much as it sounds like. I have a great husband who always makes me feel special. Also, my awesome best friend and I have made a pact to make each other's birthday special since a) we are getting older and no one cares and b) my birthday falls a month before Christmas and hers falls about two weeks after Christmas. We both always get the old "well, this is your birthday AND your Christmas present." Nice...
Weight gain: I don't think I actually gained any weight, but it felt like it. I tried to do moderation each day, but when there's like 1,000 calories per three bites, it gets difficult. Oh well! I'll just have to run my ass off... literally!
Abandonment: I have to leave my dog too much around the holidays. I mean, everyone gets to bring their snotty, coughing, screaming kids. (here I go sounding like I don't like kids again) Why can't I bring my sweet puppy? Yeah, she sheds and licks people a lot but that's it! She'll help entertain the children, eat scraps off the floor and is happy to see everyone. One of these days I'll convince everyone that dogs are better than most people!
So that's it I guess. I'm sure you all share some of these feelings about your own Thanksgiving celebrations. Overall, I really had a great weekend and hope you all did, too!
Nov 20, 2007
Top 10 Reasons I Love My New Job
10. The People. Though not quite as humorous, or diverse in character, as my former coworkers, the people I work with now are hard-working. They take their jobs seriously (though not too seriously with a few exceptions) and get the job done with little to no whining. Some of my current coworkers really know when to have fun. Others, not so much, but I'm working on them...
9. The View. I work on the largest college campus in the world - 24,500 acres or somewhere near there - and every time I pass by a window or have to go to another building, I see the beautiful Georgia fall, lots of deer and squirrels and have access to a good walk at all times.
8. The Coffee. That's right, the Bean'ry, as it is called, serves Starbucks coffee. And on that same note, I have access to the dining hall and the snack area, neither of which I go to very often. But it's nice to know they are there.
7. Free Gym Access. Yeah, I haven't taken advantage of this one as much as I should, but it's really going to come in handy when the new facility is finished...
6. Location. I am about seven minutes from my front door, which really comes in handy considering I'm running late like every morning. Plus, I can go home for lunch and not worry about getting back in time. Sadie appreciates this as well.
5. Age. Because I work at a college and there are 20-something students around at all times, I get asked about my major or how my classes are going every few days. Now, for someone about to be 27, this is wonderful. I love being able to say, "Oh, I'm not a student. I work here." The guy in charge of student work, to this day, is still like, "I really thought you were a student." I love it. I just hope I can keep it up for a while!
4. Benefits. Insurance is great (it's free until I have a kid!). And the retirement plan is even better! Plus, if I have kids, they can attend the preschool here once they are potty-trained and I'll get a discount. And if I'm still working here when my kids are college-age and they want to go to school here, they get free tuition. That's right, FREE! If they don't want to go here but they can qualify for the tuition exchange program with tons of other colleges and universities, there's some major discountage going on there, too. And Chris is considering going back for his master's because he gets a discount for being married to me. The reasons for being married to me keep growing for him... just kidding!
3. Hours. After many 60- to 70-hour weeks in the lovely newspaper business thanks to pointless special sections and chatty bosses, I work from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. with an hour for lunch. It's normal. I love it. And if I ever do have kids, this schedule will allow him/her/them to know their mother. Newspaper life would not have allowed for that. Also, along the same lines, I finally get holidays again!!!! I get many holidays plus a few extra days for Thanksgiving (which is why I'm writing this - won't be here for the rest of the week) and an entire week for Christmas! It's almost like being in college again! Weehew!
2. Creativity. Though I miss writing sometimes, I LOVE the work I do at the college. Someone brings in info and says, "Make this look good," and I get to do that - or try anyway. It's weird walking around campus and seeing a brochure I designed or a flyer I laid out, but it's also a sense of pride. I have a lot to learn and can't wait to grow and be the best designer in the Southeast (not sure I could ever compare to some in Atlanta, but I can try).
And the No. 1 reason I love my new job: IT'S NOT THE ROME NEWS-TRIBUNE!!!!
9. The View. I work on the largest college campus in the world - 24,500 acres or somewhere near there - and every time I pass by a window or have to go to another building, I see the beautiful Georgia fall, lots of deer and squirrels and have access to a good walk at all times.
8. The Coffee. That's right, the Bean'ry, as it is called, serves Starbucks coffee. And on that same note, I have access to the dining hall and the snack area, neither of which I go to very often. But it's nice to know they are there.
7. Free Gym Access. Yeah, I haven't taken advantage of this one as much as I should, but it's really going to come in handy when the new facility is finished...
6. Location. I am about seven minutes from my front door, which really comes in handy considering I'm running late like every morning. Plus, I can go home for lunch and not worry about getting back in time. Sadie appreciates this as well.
5. Age. Because I work at a college and there are 20-something students around at all times, I get asked about my major or how my classes are going every few days. Now, for someone about to be 27, this is wonderful. I love being able to say, "Oh, I'm not a student. I work here." The guy in charge of student work, to this day, is still like, "I really thought you were a student." I love it. I just hope I can keep it up for a while!
4. Benefits. Insurance is great (it's free until I have a kid!). And the retirement plan is even better! Plus, if I have kids, they can attend the preschool here once they are potty-trained and I'll get a discount. And if I'm still working here when my kids are college-age and they want to go to school here, they get free tuition. That's right, FREE! If they don't want to go here but they can qualify for the tuition exchange program with tons of other colleges and universities, there's some major discountage going on there, too. And Chris is considering going back for his master's because he gets a discount for being married to me. The reasons for being married to me keep growing for him... just kidding!
3. Hours. After many 60- to 70-hour weeks in the lovely newspaper business thanks to pointless special sections and chatty bosses, I work from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. with an hour for lunch. It's normal. I love it. And if I ever do have kids, this schedule will allow him/her/them to know their mother. Newspaper life would not have allowed for that. Also, along the same lines, I finally get holidays again!!!! I get many holidays plus a few extra days for Thanksgiving (which is why I'm writing this - won't be here for the rest of the week) and an entire week for Christmas! It's almost like being in college again! Weehew!
2. Creativity. Though I miss writing sometimes, I LOVE the work I do at the college. Someone brings in info and says, "Make this look good," and I get to do that - or try anyway. It's weird walking around campus and seeing a brochure I designed or a flyer I laid out, but it's also a sense of pride. I have a lot to learn and can't wait to grow and be the best designer in the Southeast (not sure I could ever compare to some in Atlanta, but I can try).
And the No. 1 reason I love my new job: IT'S NOT THE ROME NEWS-TRIBUNE!!!!
Nov 19, 2007
It's the Wal-Mart Way
So Sunday consisted of a couple of house projects that took way longer than they should have, the usual dog walk around the hood and the cooking of a big ol' pot of spaghetti. But it also consisted of the dreaded hour-and-a-half excursion to Wal-Mart for groceries.
Now I know what some of you are thinking: "Do you HAVE to go to Wal-Mart?" Well, the answer is no. However, I refuse to go to a store called Piggly Wiggly; Food Lion has the selection of a Saturday yard sale at 1 o'clock in the afternoon, and Kroger is on the other side of town. I do occasionally go to Kroger, but with gas prices the way they are, it's really a selection between two evils. So on to Wally World I went, list and coupons in hand (yes, I clip coupons out of the Sunday paper EVERY week cause I'm a dork).
Grocery shopping used to be a little fun for me. As a child, my dad did a lot of the grocery shopping, and it was a little adventure for my brother and I to get to go. One of us would call "shot gun," and my dad would wait to turn off the car right as his little backup singer was belting out a tune. But now, it's just a task that ends up taking longer than I would like, and Wal-Mart, with its messy aisles and slow lines, doesn't make the situation any more pleasant.
I grab a shopping cart (yes, I DO NOT call it a buggy - that's what you put a very small baby in to ride them around in the park), all the while knowing that there are various types of bacteria all over the handle and seat - and probably some kid's fecal matter as well. I first head to the bathroom-, house- and dog-related aisles and then move on to the food so that the cold products stay cold longer. For some reason, when I walk into Wal-Mart, and only Wal-Mart, my contacts immediately dry up and I'm blinking the entire time. Maybe my eyes have some kind of aversion to the store???
Sunday's visit had its share of new frustrations. I could not seem to find anything. Wal-Mart has decided to rearrange all of its aisles, so nothing is as it was just last week. Now, this is the second time in the past three or four years that this has happened. How is this a good thing? Do they think that keeping people in the store longer will make them buy more stuff? Maybe that's the case for the idiots who fall for that crap, but it really does nothing but piss me off.
While tripping over crap and very small Hispanic children, I was also on the search for baskets. My mom recently bought me this nice chest for our bedroom (yeah, it was nice of her) that has three compartments and I wanted to put a basket in each compartment. I searched in the aisles for containers, housewares, accessories, bathroom stuff and finally found baskets in the arts and crafts department. It only took about 25 minutes. No biggy. I had nothing better to do...
Then I get to the cashier, which is usually packed and consists of me waiting another 20 minutes (which would have been fine this time because there was a People magazine sitting on the rack with Matt Damon's beautiful face all over it). But on this day, a cashier approached me and said she could get me in her lane. What? Are you being helpful? You won't last long, lady! So I pile the groceries on as fast as I can, then rush to the bagging area to put my bags in the cart (oh the days of bag boys!). But then all the computer checkouts start freaking out and I have to swipe my card again, which always makes me nervous. I have a bad feeling I paid twice for one round of groceries. I'll be keeping an eye on that one.
I then make my way out the door, practically sprinting to avoid the little old lady saying she needs to see my receipt because I have a pack of tissue on the rack of the cart. I swear, it's like the freakin' Secret Service patting you down on your way out the door. Oh, and if you ever buy condoms, make sure the cashier deactivates the little thing inside the box or the alarm will go off at the door. Oh yeah, it happened to me! Then I had to pull the box out while the lady took it over to a cash register to deactivate it. The alarm might as well have said, "This woman just bought condoms." So when the lady said, "Sorry, that was probably embarrassing," I said, "Not as embarrassing as it would be for me to have a bunch of kids running around I don't want." TAKE THAT!!! Besides, of all the things in that store, I think it would be OK if people were stealing condoms. In fact, more people should steal condoms!
But the highlight (and I use bitter sarcasm here) of my shopping experience at Wal-Mart Sunday was on my way to the arts and crafts section when Don Juan in all his nastiness said, "Hey baby, how you doin'?" as we passed. He was gone before I realized what had just been said or I would have turned around to say, "Are you fucking kidding me?" But when I did turn around, something gave me the impression that this was the only thing this guy could say in English. So I decided to ignore the little Joey Tribiani wannabe.
But, you know, all in a day's shopping at the lovely Wal-Mart.
Now I know what some of you are thinking: "Do you HAVE to go to Wal-Mart?" Well, the answer is no. However, I refuse to go to a store called Piggly Wiggly; Food Lion has the selection of a Saturday yard sale at 1 o'clock in the afternoon, and Kroger is on the other side of town. I do occasionally go to Kroger, but with gas prices the way they are, it's really a selection between two evils. So on to Wally World I went, list and coupons in hand (yes, I clip coupons out of the Sunday paper EVERY week cause I'm a dork).
Grocery shopping used to be a little fun for me. As a child, my dad did a lot of the grocery shopping, and it was a little adventure for my brother and I to get to go. One of us would call "shot gun," and my dad would wait to turn off the car right as his little backup singer was belting out a tune. But now, it's just a task that ends up taking longer than I would like, and Wal-Mart, with its messy aisles and slow lines, doesn't make the situation any more pleasant.
I grab a shopping cart (yes, I DO NOT call it a buggy - that's what you put a very small baby in to ride them around in the park), all the while knowing that there are various types of bacteria all over the handle and seat - and probably some kid's fecal matter as well. I first head to the bathroom-, house- and dog-related aisles and then move on to the food so that the cold products stay cold longer. For some reason, when I walk into Wal-Mart, and only Wal-Mart, my contacts immediately dry up and I'm blinking the entire time. Maybe my eyes have some kind of aversion to the store???
Sunday's visit had its share of new frustrations. I could not seem to find anything. Wal-Mart has decided to rearrange all of its aisles, so nothing is as it was just last week. Now, this is the second time in the past three or four years that this has happened. How is this a good thing? Do they think that keeping people in the store longer will make them buy more stuff? Maybe that's the case for the idiots who fall for that crap, but it really does nothing but piss me off.
While tripping over crap and very small Hispanic children, I was also on the search for baskets. My mom recently bought me this nice chest for our bedroom (yeah, it was nice of her) that has three compartments and I wanted to put a basket in each compartment. I searched in the aisles for containers, housewares, accessories, bathroom stuff and finally found baskets in the arts and crafts department. It only took about 25 minutes. No biggy. I had nothing better to do...
Then I get to the cashier, which is usually packed and consists of me waiting another 20 minutes (which would have been fine this time because there was a People magazine sitting on the rack with Matt Damon's beautiful face all over it). But on this day, a cashier approached me and said she could get me in her lane. What? Are you being helpful? You won't last long, lady! So I pile the groceries on as fast as I can, then rush to the bagging area to put my bags in the cart (oh the days of bag boys!). But then all the computer checkouts start freaking out and I have to swipe my card again, which always makes me nervous. I have a bad feeling I paid twice for one round of groceries. I'll be keeping an eye on that one.
I then make my way out the door, practically sprinting to avoid the little old lady saying she needs to see my receipt because I have a pack of tissue on the rack of the cart. I swear, it's like the freakin' Secret Service patting you down on your way out the door. Oh, and if you ever buy condoms, make sure the cashier deactivates the little thing inside the box or the alarm will go off at the door. Oh yeah, it happened to me! Then I had to pull the box out while the lady took it over to a cash register to deactivate it. The alarm might as well have said, "This woman just bought condoms." So when the lady said, "Sorry, that was probably embarrassing," I said, "Not as embarrassing as it would be for me to have a bunch of kids running around I don't want." TAKE THAT!!! Besides, of all the things in that store, I think it would be OK if people were stealing condoms. In fact, more people should steal condoms!
But the highlight (and I use bitter sarcasm here) of my shopping experience at Wal-Mart Sunday was on my way to the arts and crafts section when Don Juan in all his nastiness said, "Hey baby, how you doin'?" as we passed. He was gone before I realized what had just been said or I would have turned around to say, "Are you fucking kidding me?" But when I did turn around, something gave me the impression that this was the only thing this guy could say in English. So I decided to ignore the little Joey Tribiani wannabe.
But, you know, all in a day's shopping at the lovely Wal-Mart.
Nov 16, 2007
On Average
I read this fabulous article today on cnn.com and had to share it. I hope it's OK to reprint this...like I said, I got it from cnn.com and the author is listed:
One Day in America
by Nancy Gibbs
No one, of course, sets out to be average. We're all about skyscrapers and Big Gulps and $200 sneakers that promise an extra edge on the court. Peoria, Ill., once paid a p.r. firm $60,000 to help counter its image as the most average city in the country, an image that "really hurts," said a local official. Who'd settle for being the most like everyone else?
Even finding the Average American is a challenge, since means and medians and majorities can hide as much as they reveal: pity the statistician whose job it is to flatten us into a trend. The average household has 2.6 members, but most families prefer their children whole. On average we are 36.6 years old, but in reality we are newborn and toddling, aged and wise. We exercise close to the recommended 20 minutes a day—but that's because 17% of us exercise for well over an hour, while the rest of us scarcely stir at all. The vast majority of Americans believe in God, and more than 90% own a Bible, but only half can name a single Gospel, and 10% think Joan of Arc was Noah's wife. So what's the average state of our eternal souls?
But if the perfect average is a mirage, you can still learn something by comparing yourself to the crowd. Depending on how closely you cleave to the statistical norm, you prefer figure-skating to nascar, live in the state where you were born, spend more money in restaurants than grocery stores and are just as happy as you would be if you earned 20 times your salary. At some point today you will say a prayer, not floss, take a shower for 10 minutes but not sing in it, drive an eight-year-old car to work, spend 95% of the day indoors and 21⁄2 hours online, consume 20 teaspoons of added sugar and not save any money. On weekends, people over 75 spend 11⁄2 hours reading, while those from 15 to 19 spend seven minutes. On Thanksgiving, 88% will eat turkey; most Americans prefer the white meat; the rest of the world, the dark. The average family has more televisions than people—but we spend about the same amount of time watching them as we did 40 years ago.
Our times have changed since 1965, when the typical family had a breadwinning father and a stay-at-home mother; now about 20% of families do. Economists warned in 1999 that working parents had 22 fewer hours of family time than they did 30 years before, which set off alarms about neglected latchkey children growing up loose and wild compared with Ozzie and Harriet's—except that the warnings were flatly wrong. Parents are both working harder and spending more time with their children—especially fathers, who spend 153% more time each week on child care than in 1965.
That means something else has to give, yet we are not sleeping less, nor do we have less free time in general. Look closely at the snapshots, and you see the old rules fading: that you can't be in two places at once, that there are only so many hours in a day. When Mom and Dad are standing in the school bleachers, cheering the baseball team while e-mailing their marketing team, are they at work or at play? We watch the news while cooking dinner, whiten our teeth while we sleep. Modern parents multitask about 40 more hours a week than did their counterparts in 1975. Time spent solely with other adults has fallen, particularly with the adult you are married to: pure spousal time is down 26% since 1975.
When you peel back the numbers and look at the lives underneath, it turns out there's much to love about Average, and much to learn, as Kevin O'Keefe discovered when he set out to write The Average American: The Extraordinary Search for the Nation's Most Ordinary Citizen. We may be fascinated by the rich and famous, but polls show we don't want to be them: the average American lives 13 years longer than the average celebrity, who is four times as likely to commit suicide. What O'Keefe found in his travels was that being average usually means having a certain balance in your life. "Once you explain it in those terms," he says, "it's a pretty fulfilling thing for most Americans." Think of it as the wisdom of crowds, and pretty soon the average just might become your ideal. *end of article*
I read this and immediately thought, "for the most part, I would love to be average." Now, when compared to others in my locale, family life and those my age, there's a good mix going on. I probably go beyond the average in many areas and possibly "below" the average in others.
I have a college education, which is pretty average for people my age but no where near the norm in my family. My husband, who I married fairly young compared to the Northern U.S. but fairly late in life compared to the Southern U.S. (probably not really - it just seems that way), also has a college education (and really is a frickin' genius). We purchased a very inexpensive yet charming home and took on the task of renovating it - certainly not the average for a 20-something married couple three years out of college. And the big one: we've been married for five years now and just have a dog. That's right ladies and gents, no kids. This is probably not as big a surprise for the Northerners again, but the Southerners are having a hard time with it, especially the family members. Bless their little hearts... (but that's another post for another day).
But the area in my life I would like to be average in right now has to do with parents. So many of my friends, and even some family, seem to be able to go to mom and dad for help anytime. For Chris and I, it works the other way around. Our not-so-independent moms love coming to us for help. I won't get into details. It's a recent thing for Chris' mom but it's the "average" behavior of my mom. She's learning to be more independent, especially after a two-hour conversation with the baby in the family (that would be me) that consisted of phrases like "I can't always take care of you" and "You're going to have to own up to the consequences of your decisions." Who's the parent here? So here, I would like to be a bit more average.
I'm proud of most of my non-average behavior though. I'd like to have more of it. I'd like to spend more time helping others, volunteering to help build a house or feeding the hungry - or even some day be like my friend Kari who spent two straight years of her life in Africa teaching small villages about the importance of public health while also giving and receiving a great deal of love to/from people who may not consider themselves "without" anything!
But when I read this article, I was so surprised at where I stood on each topic. Our household, in fact, has 2.6 members. Sadie is almost a person! I am proud to say that I can name the Gospels and I know that Joan of Arc is NOT Noah's wife. I DO prefer figure skating to NASCAR. I probably spend more money in restaurants than at the grocery store - so sad! I drive an eight-year-old car to work and probably spend 90 percent of my time indoors. I don't sing in the shower; that's what my car is for.
Hm... interesting...
One Day in America
by Nancy Gibbs
No one, of course, sets out to be average. We're all about skyscrapers and Big Gulps and $200 sneakers that promise an extra edge on the court. Peoria, Ill., once paid a p.r. firm $60,000 to help counter its image as the most average city in the country, an image that "really hurts," said a local official. Who'd settle for being the most like everyone else?
Even finding the Average American is a challenge, since means and medians and majorities can hide as much as they reveal: pity the statistician whose job it is to flatten us into a trend. The average household has 2.6 members, but most families prefer their children whole. On average we are 36.6 years old, but in reality we are newborn and toddling, aged and wise. We exercise close to the recommended 20 minutes a day—but that's because 17% of us exercise for well over an hour, while the rest of us scarcely stir at all. The vast majority of Americans believe in God, and more than 90% own a Bible, but only half can name a single Gospel, and 10% think Joan of Arc was Noah's wife. So what's the average state of our eternal souls?
But if the perfect average is a mirage, you can still learn something by comparing yourself to the crowd. Depending on how closely you cleave to the statistical norm, you prefer figure-skating to nascar, live in the state where you were born, spend more money in restaurants than grocery stores and are just as happy as you would be if you earned 20 times your salary. At some point today you will say a prayer, not floss, take a shower for 10 minutes but not sing in it, drive an eight-year-old car to work, spend 95% of the day indoors and 21⁄2 hours online, consume 20 teaspoons of added sugar and not save any money. On weekends, people over 75 spend 11⁄2 hours reading, while those from 15 to 19 spend seven minutes. On Thanksgiving, 88% will eat turkey; most Americans prefer the white meat; the rest of the world, the dark. The average family has more televisions than people—but we spend about the same amount of time watching them as we did 40 years ago.
Our times have changed since 1965, when the typical family had a breadwinning father and a stay-at-home mother; now about 20% of families do. Economists warned in 1999 that working parents had 22 fewer hours of family time than they did 30 years before, which set off alarms about neglected latchkey children growing up loose and wild compared with Ozzie and Harriet's—except that the warnings were flatly wrong. Parents are both working harder and spending more time with their children—especially fathers, who spend 153% more time each week on child care than in 1965.
That means something else has to give, yet we are not sleeping less, nor do we have less free time in general. Look closely at the snapshots, and you see the old rules fading: that you can't be in two places at once, that there are only so many hours in a day. When Mom and Dad are standing in the school bleachers, cheering the baseball team while e-mailing their marketing team, are they at work or at play? We watch the news while cooking dinner, whiten our teeth while we sleep. Modern parents multitask about 40 more hours a week than did their counterparts in 1975. Time spent solely with other adults has fallen, particularly with the adult you are married to: pure spousal time is down 26% since 1975.
When you peel back the numbers and look at the lives underneath, it turns out there's much to love about Average, and much to learn, as Kevin O'Keefe discovered when he set out to write The Average American: The Extraordinary Search for the Nation's Most Ordinary Citizen. We may be fascinated by the rich and famous, but polls show we don't want to be them: the average American lives 13 years longer than the average celebrity, who is four times as likely to commit suicide. What O'Keefe found in his travels was that being average usually means having a certain balance in your life. "Once you explain it in those terms," he says, "it's a pretty fulfilling thing for most Americans." Think of it as the wisdom of crowds, and pretty soon the average just might become your ideal. *end of article*
I read this and immediately thought, "for the most part, I would love to be average." Now, when compared to others in my locale, family life and those my age, there's a good mix going on. I probably go beyond the average in many areas and possibly "below" the average in others.
I have a college education, which is pretty average for people my age but no where near the norm in my family. My husband, who I married fairly young compared to the Northern U.S. but fairly late in life compared to the Southern U.S. (probably not really - it just seems that way), also has a college education (and really is a frickin' genius). We purchased a very inexpensive yet charming home and took on the task of renovating it - certainly not the average for a 20-something married couple three years out of college. And the big one: we've been married for five years now and just have a dog. That's right ladies and gents, no kids. This is probably not as big a surprise for the Northerners again, but the Southerners are having a hard time with it, especially the family members. Bless their little hearts... (but that's another post for another day).
But the area in my life I would like to be average in right now has to do with parents. So many of my friends, and even some family, seem to be able to go to mom and dad for help anytime. For Chris and I, it works the other way around. Our not-so-independent moms love coming to us for help. I won't get into details. It's a recent thing for Chris' mom but it's the "average" behavior of my mom. She's learning to be more independent, especially after a two-hour conversation with the baby in the family (that would be me) that consisted of phrases like "I can't always take care of you" and "You're going to have to own up to the consequences of your decisions." Who's the parent here? So here, I would like to be a bit more average.
I'm proud of most of my non-average behavior though. I'd like to have more of it. I'd like to spend more time helping others, volunteering to help build a house or feeding the hungry - or even some day be like my friend Kari who spent two straight years of her life in Africa teaching small villages about the importance of public health while also giving and receiving a great deal of love to/from people who may not consider themselves "without" anything!
But when I read this article, I was so surprised at where I stood on each topic. Our household, in fact, has 2.6 members. Sadie is almost a person! I am proud to say that I can name the Gospels and I know that Joan of Arc is NOT Noah's wife. I DO prefer figure skating to NASCAR. I probably spend more money in restaurants than at the grocery store - so sad! I drive an eight-year-old car to work and probably spend 90 percent of my time indoors. I don't sing in the shower; that's what my car is for.
Hm... interesting...
Nov 14, 2007
Finally, People magazine sees it my way
After years of Brad Pitt, George Clooney and other obvious hotties gracing the cover of People magazine's Sexiest Men Alive list, they are finally seeing it my way. This year's title of Sexiest Man Alive goes to... drum roll please... Matt Damon!!!! And also on this list is McDreamy himself, Patrick Dempsey.
First of all, I am a little ashamed to admit that I know this because I visit www.people.com on a semi-regular basis. Who am I kidding, I visit it every day! Nonetheless, I am in complete agreement on this year's choice for the following reasons:
1. Matt Damon isn't just hot, he's talented. From "Good Will Hunting" to the "Bourne" series, the man has shown his versatility in character and even writing.
2. He's hot. Period. He's got that slightly chiseled look with blue eyes, nice lips and a KILLER smile. Plus, he's got broad shoulders and a nice ass (sorry, but it's true). I mean, how many women saw the first of the "Bourne" series and didn't wish they were that girl getting her hair cut by Matt, only to make out with him afterward? Shoot, I don't even know who the heck the girl is, and frankly, it doesn't matter.
3. And finally and possibly most importantly, he reminds me of my super-hot husband! Seriously, they have many of the same features...
I'm just glad People finally realized the complete hotness that IS Matt Damon. Oh, but apparently like everyone else in Hollywood, they felt bad for his less-talented, old-school friend - Ben Affleck - and included him in the list, too. I'm sorry, but no fucking way should Ben be included with Matt, Patrick and Brad!
Maybe next year they'll realize how cute Hayden Christensen is...
First of all, I am a little ashamed to admit that I know this because I visit www.people.com on a semi-regular basis. Who am I kidding, I visit it every day! Nonetheless, I am in complete agreement on this year's choice for the following reasons:
1. Matt Damon isn't just hot, he's talented. From "Good Will Hunting" to the "Bourne" series, the man has shown his versatility in character and even writing.
2. He's hot. Period. He's got that slightly chiseled look with blue eyes, nice lips and a KILLER smile. Plus, he's got broad shoulders and a nice ass (sorry, but it's true). I mean, how many women saw the first of the "Bourne" series and didn't wish they were that girl getting her hair cut by Matt, only to make out with him afterward? Shoot, I don't even know who the heck the girl is, and frankly, it doesn't matter.
3. And finally and possibly most importantly, he reminds me of my super-hot husband! Seriously, they have many of the same features...
I'm just glad People finally realized the complete hotness that IS Matt Damon. Oh, but apparently like everyone else in Hollywood, they felt bad for his less-talented, old-school friend - Ben Affleck - and included him in the list, too. I'm sorry, but no fucking way should Ben be included with Matt, Patrick and Brad!
Maybe next year they'll realize how cute Hayden Christensen is...
Nov 13, 2007
Dream a Little Dream of Me
Stemming from yet another work discussion (I swear we have work to do), the topic of dreams has entered my mind again. I say again because I'm one of those people who dreams every night and will wake up the next morning remembering at least one of those dreams. Of course, as I wrote that I realized I can't remember any dreams I had last night... but you get the picture. And so usually at some point during the day something will trigger the memory of a dream I had.
So one of my coworkers, a 50-something married woman with a great personality and a love of shagging (the dance, although she once informed me that she loves to do both!), said she had a dream last night that consisted of her growing a penis out of the right side of her chest, just above her breast. Now, I have had some strange dreams in my lifetime, but this tops the cake in the book of weird dreams. We all began to share our odd dreams, which for me includes the following list:
1. My most reoccuring dream is of a massive tornado. Now, keep in mind I have never seen a tornado in person, just on TV. In my dream, I am always trying to get away from said tornado, and in a couple of these dreams, the tornado is trying to suck up Chris. I am holding on to him for dear life and won't let go. These dreams began long ago, possibly in high school though I distinctly remember having one or two in college. All I know is they scare the hell out of me!
2. Another reoccuring dream that I have had, though not in a long time, is of running into a guy I had a HUGE crush on for years. I'm talking met him in sixth grade and was infatuated until early high school - HUGE crush. He never gave me the time of day (the good ol' "I'm a jock and you're a band geek so fuck off" attitude). Anyway, in the dream, he is always like: "Hey, you look great; want to get together sometime?" And I'm like, "You missed your chance. I'm happy and with the best guy in the world," with my nose high in the air. Can you need closure for something that never existed? Weird!
3. The night after finding out my grandfather (only the second greatest man to ever walk the earth, aside from my dad - of course this is not counting Jesus) had passed away, I had a dream of him coming to me and saying, "I'm OK." WOE! This was just crazy, but it made me feel really peaceful about the whole thing. Kind of spiritual really.
4. I've had a couple of dreams about my dad being here, which were usually really cool dreams. In one in particular, I remember telling him he would be so proud because I graduated from college (first in the fam) and that I sometimes still pick up my trumpet (the man used to mimic Miles Davis and Maynard Furgeson on the horn). And I think my dog was there, too (the love of dogs is a family trait). Pretty cool...
5. Now two really weird dreams included kissing coworkers. Yeah, not something I'm proud of, but they were dreams. And hell, sometimes dreams are just plain stupid.
So, the tornado dream means this according to www.dreamdoctor.com (which I'm sure is a credible site):
Tornadoes are unpredictable and violent storms which often separate families and destroy property. Frequent dreams of tornadoes may reflect past family instability, or people who are prone to violent “outbursts” or unpredictable mood swings. Tornadoes frequently represent family members or relatives with drug, alcohol, mood disorders and violent tempers. For people living in tornado areas, the dreams may reflect literal fears of an encounter.
All I can figure is that it's related to my mom, cause she's like PMS on crack! Oh well!
What are some of YOUR odd or reoccuring dreams?
So one of my coworkers, a 50-something married woman with a great personality and a love of shagging (the dance, although she once informed me that she loves to do both!), said she had a dream last night that consisted of her growing a penis out of the right side of her chest, just above her breast. Now, I have had some strange dreams in my lifetime, but this tops the cake in the book of weird dreams. We all began to share our odd dreams, which for me includes the following list:
1. My most reoccuring dream is of a massive tornado. Now, keep in mind I have never seen a tornado in person, just on TV. In my dream, I am always trying to get away from said tornado, and in a couple of these dreams, the tornado is trying to suck up Chris. I am holding on to him for dear life and won't let go. These dreams began long ago, possibly in high school though I distinctly remember having one or two in college. All I know is they scare the hell out of me!
2. Another reoccuring dream that I have had, though not in a long time, is of running into a guy I had a HUGE crush on for years. I'm talking met him in sixth grade and was infatuated until early high school - HUGE crush. He never gave me the time of day (the good ol' "I'm a jock and you're a band geek so fuck off" attitude). Anyway, in the dream, he is always like: "Hey, you look great; want to get together sometime?" And I'm like, "You missed your chance. I'm happy and with the best guy in the world," with my nose high in the air. Can you need closure for something that never existed? Weird!
3. The night after finding out my grandfather (only the second greatest man to ever walk the earth, aside from my dad - of course this is not counting Jesus) had passed away, I had a dream of him coming to me and saying, "I'm OK." WOE! This was just crazy, but it made me feel really peaceful about the whole thing. Kind of spiritual really.
4. I've had a couple of dreams about my dad being here, which were usually really cool dreams. In one in particular, I remember telling him he would be so proud because I graduated from college (first in the fam) and that I sometimes still pick up my trumpet (the man used to mimic Miles Davis and Maynard Furgeson on the horn). And I think my dog was there, too (the love of dogs is a family trait). Pretty cool...
5. Now two really weird dreams included kissing coworkers. Yeah, not something I'm proud of, but they were dreams. And hell, sometimes dreams are just plain stupid.
So, the tornado dream means this according to www.dreamdoctor.com (which I'm sure is a credible site):
Tornadoes are unpredictable and violent storms which often separate families and destroy property. Frequent dreams of tornadoes may reflect past family instability, or people who are prone to violent “outbursts” or unpredictable mood swings. Tornadoes frequently represent family members or relatives with drug, alcohol, mood disorders and violent tempers. For people living in tornado areas, the dreams may reflect literal fears of an encounter.
All I can figure is that it's related to my mom, cause she's like PMS on crack! Oh well!
What are some of YOUR odd or reoccuring dreams?
Nov 9, 2007
On the title of my blog...
(Side note: After reading others' blogs and still finding myself with free time at work, I decided to succumb to the draws of the blogging world.)
So, really, whatever DID happen to "School House Rock?"
Just the other day, my boss and I were discussing television, children and cartoons. I mentioned that, to this day, I know how a bill becomes a law thanks to "School House Rock."
"Didn't they also teach about English?" she asked.
"Oh, yeah," I answered. "Conjunction-junction, what's your function..."
For those of you who are too old or too young to remember this lively bit of education between the classic "The Adventures Winnie the Pooh" and my all-time-favorite "The Bugs Bunny and Tweetie Show," the concept was simple but genius: combine grammar, government policy and even math skills with music so that kids will remember it easily. I mean, think of how many songs you know the lyrics to. Now tell me if you can recite even the Preamble without missing a beat (this does not go for people like Jacob Johnston who are able to recite random bits of information with ease).
So now, in a time when we are supposedly making every effort to leave no child behind, why is there no combination of music and knowledge between cartoons on Saturday morning? Why are there just princesses and fairies and anime characters invading the TV (I only know this because I have nieces and nephews)? Why are so many school systems considering cutting music from the curriculum (as well as recess, but that's another blog for another day)?
And finally, at the risk of being a 26-year-old who sounds like a 70-year-old with my "when I was a kid" story, whatever happened to "School House Rock?"
So, really, whatever DID happen to "School House Rock?"
Just the other day, my boss and I were discussing television, children and cartoons. I mentioned that, to this day, I know how a bill becomes a law thanks to "School House Rock."
"Didn't they also teach about English?" she asked.
"Oh, yeah," I answered. "Conjunction-junction, what's your function..."
For those of you who are too old or too young to remember this lively bit of education between the classic "The Adventures Winnie the Pooh" and my all-time-favorite "The Bugs Bunny and Tweetie Show," the concept was simple but genius: combine grammar, government policy and even math skills with music so that kids will remember it easily. I mean, think of how many songs you know the lyrics to. Now tell me if you can recite even the Preamble without missing a beat (this does not go for people like Jacob Johnston who are able to recite random bits of information with ease).
So now, in a time when we are supposedly making every effort to leave no child behind, why is there no combination of music and knowledge between cartoons on Saturday morning? Why are there just princesses and fairies and anime characters invading the TV (I only know this because I have nieces and nephews)? Why are so many school systems considering cutting music from the curriculum (as well as recess, but that's another blog for another day)?
And finally, at the risk of being a 26-year-old who sounds like a 70-year-old with my "when I was a kid" story, whatever happened to "School House Rock?"
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