writinggal

Things I wish I liked: Twitter

2012-02-07T11:19:00.003-05:00

When I first heard about Twitter circa 2008 I thought it was right up my alley. See, my favorite thing about Facebook is how you can write short little updates. Like today, I was making something in the crock pot and I said out loud, "And then you stir all the ingredients so that they blend together." I realized that I was performing a cooking show with Gus as my audience. I then realized that I always do this when I'm cooking. So I giggled, went to my computer (which was open right there in the kitchen because I was getting a recipe off of Pinterest; I'm so tech-savvy!) and wrote on Facebook:

"Anybody else pretend they're on a cooking show when they're cooking and make their baby pretend to be in the audience? No? Just me?"

It wasn't really enough for a whole blog but I did want to say it. I often have fleeting thoughts like that that I'd like to share so Tweeting sounded like the perfect outlet for me. I even liked the name and the lingo--Tweet, Retweet, Tweeted.

I also loved the fact that there was a character limit. That totally trumps Facebook, where people can ramble on and on about politics, mundane details of their laundry or the amazingness that is their dachshund.

So I got a Twitter account. We got off to a bad start when the "handle" Writinggal was already taken. I decided to call myself "RealWritinggal." I used it mostly for my now-defunct Workout of the Week. I would Tweet about whatever topic I was covering that week and then put a link to my blog. The people who started following me were fitness people. I soon learned it was good Twitter etiquette to follow people back.

And perhaps that's why I got the feeling that Twitter was very sales-y. Seemed like everyone was pushing something (including myself). I didn't know who to follow or what to Tweet. And worse, I didn't care! I never thought to check it to see what my followers or followees were doing because I didn't know most of them.

Now, over at Facebook, I may not have seen you since high school but I still like to know what's going on in your life. But Trista Sutter of the Bachelorette? I can keep up with you in US Weekly. I don't need to read your Tweets.

So, for me, the RealWritinggal, Tweeting just wasn't fun. It was a chore. It was something I needed to put on my To Do list: Fold Laundry, Turn in Story Ideas, Make Revisions to Article, Think of Something Clever to Tweet, Blog about things I wish I liked, Cook dinner while pretending to be on a cooking show. You can see how it could get lost in the shuffle of my glamorous life.

Plus, it's all complicated with its @ symbols and #hash tagging. I really don't think it's for people born before 1980.

Then somewhere along the way I lost my Twitter password. So I must apologize to my hundreds (dozens?) of Twitter followers. I've been MIA on Twitter for months. It sounded like a great idea. I hear that people love it, can't live without it. But for me, all I can say is:

Twitter, I wish I liked you, but I don't.

Christmas Slackers

2012-02-03T19:25:00.004-05:00

Perhaps you're tired of my rants--via verbal communication as well as social networking--about people who keep their Christmas decorations up past the pointof polite. But I feel a blog on the topic is necessary. Here's why:

I notice that the feedback I get is sometimes favorable towards the accused. I hear things like, "Well, sometimes people leave their decorations up until after MLK Day because that's when the college kids go back after Christmas break" or "Maybe they really love Christmas!" or "What's the big deal?"

I would like to address each of these counterpoints to illustrate why they are all (pardon my bluntness) wrong.

1. People leave their decorations up until after...I've heard it all--Three Kings Day, Epiphany (okay, just learned those are the same), the first full weekend in January, Valentine's Day, etc.

So how long is too long? Personally, I like mine down on New Year's Day. However, I don't expect everyone to have theirs down by then: between December 26th and January 6th (Epiphany) is an acceptable window. (But I would like to add that I did not start ranting until January 14th so the Epiphany argument at that point was still wrong as Epiphany had passed.)

2. So is it possible they just love Christmas? No. It IS possible that they choose to leave their lights up and try to say they are festive. And some lights really do qualify as "party lights," like these:

These, however, are only festive for about 40 days.

The people I'm complaining about don't even have lights. They have wreaths. A wreathe on every window--four--and then a giant wreath hanging on the front of their house. Then they've got some yard decor plus a little mailbox panache. Oh, and some ribbons on a potted plant. They put it up about two weeks before Thanksgiving (early birds are annoying but not as bad as slackers) and somehow, they found the time, energy and equipment with which to display their Christmas spirit. Now why can they not seem to find that same gumption when it comes time to take them down? How do they not just rip that big red bow off the mailbox every time they go retrieve their letters? And what about the stuff in the potted plant? Can't untie it on your way in once? Sure, the wreaths are tough but that one on the top of the house is now tattered and tilted. Just one trip up the ladder and it would be gone.

But no, as I write this, that giant wreathe is STILL there! It is February 3rd!! These people don't like Christmas. They don't have a plan. They are just plain lazy. Lazy lazy lazy lazy lazy.

3. What's the big deal? It's kind of like when I went to that doctor's office and they had the August calendar up and it was, like, November. What does it say about them? How tuned out of life are they? If these people aren't taking down their Christmas decorations, what else aren't they doing? What does the inside of their home look like? Is the tree still up? Is it a mess? And what about their own personal hygiene? Are they bathing? Or do they just forget to bathe? Oh, I know: "some people only bathe after six days..." or "maybe they just love to stink" or "what's the big deal?"

If my ranting doesn't work then I have a new plan. I am going to keep all my Groundhog Day decorations up for as many days as they have kept their Christmas decorations. And I LOVE me some Puxatony Phil...even if I have to look at him in May!

Griddle me this, Writinggal

2012-01-19T22:10:00.002-05:00

As a minimalist, I normally shun kitchen non-essentials. For instance, we have a sandwich maker and if it were up to me, we wouldn't. I mean, a sandwich maker? I am the sandwich maker. I don't need a machine for that. What's next? A cereal maker?

But about two weeks ago I decided we need a griddle. I like to make pancakes and I could only make two at a time in the pan. And when you make pancakes two at a time, everybody eats separately. Kinda puts a damper on fun family breakfast.

When I told Frank my griddle idea he was surprised: "Where are you going to put it?" he asked. (My minimalism has infected him!) But then he said, "You've got three boys living in the house. That's A LOT of pancakes. You need a griddle."

So I am so stoked about our new griddle that we found at Walmart!

I've already made pancakes on it (as you can see) and they turned out great. The griddle has a tilt feature so we can make burgers and then let the grease drain.

We did have to do some rearranging to make it fit in the cabinets. Usually when I buy something new--anything at all--I get rid of something. Haven't done that yet.

I've got my eye on you, sandwich maker.

The Wine Goblet and The Washcloth

2012-01-14T22:41:00.002-05:00

I was just ordering a wedding present online and pickins' were slim. The things that were left on the registry weren't quite enough for a whole gift so I needed to buy two things. I ended up pulling a Frank and buying two totally unrelated items:

--a scale and water filter replacements

I saw Frank do this at one of the first weddings we attended together. We went to Macy's on the day of the wedding (who does that anymore?) and printed out the registry. He saw that the couple needed wine goblets. Now, he didn't want to purchase the desired amount of wine goblets (four?) nor did he even care to invest in TWO wine goblets. He did, however, think it would be in poor taste to buy simply ONE wine goblet. He wanted to spend about $5-$10 more so he ventured over to the bath section with his list and grabbed a washcloth. ONE washcloth.

I'm pretty sure when he had them wrap it he told them to put the wash cloth in the wine goblet. How puzzled the newlyweds must have been to receive such a gift.

"Did Frank think we might need a wash cloth in case we spill the wine?"

"Maybe he figured after drinking wine, surely one of us would need to take a shower?"

"It probably wasn't even his idea. Bet it was that new girlfriend of his. She looked a little ditsy. Is she the one who started the macarena at the reception?"

Frank didn't understand that gifts should be themed. Like if you buy a toaster you can also buy a bread box. (Although that's a silly example because neither of us would ever spend that much on a wedding gift!) How about if you buy them a mixing bowl you can also buy a rolling pin? Or if you buy a toothbrush holder you could purchase a matching soap dispenser? Or here's an idea: If you buy them a wine goblet, get them another wine goblet!

I wonder what this couple will think of my scale/water filter replacement gift:

"Maybe she thought we work out a lot so we'll need to drink lots of water and weigh ourselves."

"Is she saying we're fat so we need to drink more water and check our weights daily?"

"It was probably Frank's idea. He's totally judgmental about weight and water and especially water weight."

Darn. Now we've insulted them. I knew I should have gone with the bath mat and the spatula.

It's okay to be fascinated with the Kardashians

2012-01-04T20:37:00.006-05:00

Here are the definitions of fascinate, according to Dictionary.com:

Adjective:

1. To attract and hold attentively by a unique power, personal charm and unusual nature, or some other special characteristic.

to arouse the interest or curiosity of; allure.

to transfix or deprive of the power of resistance, asthrough terror: The sight of the snake fascinated the rabbit.

Verb:

to capture the interest or hold the attention.

Don't Kim, Kourtney, Khole and the gang meet these criteria? Then it's OKAY that Barbara Walters put them on her "Most Fascinating People" list. People--like Bill O'Reilly--got all bent out of shape that Babs included the K's on her list.

He said, "They have no talent. They can't sing, they can't act. They just sit around and whine."

She came back with, "You cannot totally disregard pop culture because you know nothing about it."

Then he said, "I don't think they set a good example to young American women."

It's really all about semantics, people. "Fascinating" to Bill O'Reilly means that you must have done something great. You must have worked really hard and achieved something. But to B.W. it means you captured everyone's attention, which, if you look above at my trusty definition, is exactly what fascinating means.

I'll admit it, every now and then if I happen to be flipping around, I have sometimes been inclined to keep up with the Kardashians. I do find them fascinating.

What does Kourtney see in Scott?

How does Kim have such a prominent rear while the rest of her body is so petite?

Is Bruce Jenner thinking, "What have I gotten myself into?"

How can Khloe and Lamar seem like soul mates when they only dated like, a month, before getting married?

What's the deal with Rob?

Besides, they are always on the cover of my US Weekly so I can't get away from them. In fact, in December, there was a K sis on the cover three weeks in a row. I used to call it Jess Weekly (since Jessica Simpson was always on the cover) but now I think I'll call it Kardashian Weekly.

Now, if there really was a magazine called that, I would not buy it. I'm not that fascinated by them. (Although I may be fascinated enough to read the cover of it in the checkout line).

Blog Blurbs

2011-12-22T21:20:00.003-05:00

When I used to write a blog every weekday, I'd always ask Frank the night before, "What should I write about on my blog tomorrow?" and he'd say, "You could write about the pressures of writing a blog." And I'd say, "Nobody wants to read about that!" But now, every time I start to write a blog I feel like I should apologize for not writing more often. Kinda like in the Catholic church, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two years since my last confession." (What about the people who go every week? Do they have to apologize too?)

Forgive me, blog readers for I have failed you. It has been over a week since my last post. And forgive me again because I do need to say that I'm currently too busy getting ready for Christmas and all its' shenanigans (no offense, Baby Jesus) to write an actual blog. Instead, I'll give you smatterings for all the blogs that are floating in my head.

Old Mom's Tales: It's cold and flu season. We're right in the thick of it. And I know, I just know, that people are going to say things like, "I let my kid go outside without a hat so she caught a cold" or "I went to get the mail and my hair was wet so look at me now--sick as a dog!" Do these people never watch John Stossel and his helpful myth versus fact reports? Since I'm the only one, I'll pass on the good news: You DO NOT get colds from being cold! They really need to change the name of that cureless disease.

A fellow ranter: Okay, her blog is WAY bigger than mine so it's silly of me to even compare but I recently started following www.peopleIwanttopunchinthethroat.com She writes about well, people she'd like to punch in the throat. Like if I were writing that blog, I would write about the people who think they get colds from being cold. Or the lady at Walmart who I had this interaction with:

Me: I'm going to need gift receipts for all of these items. They're all going to the same place so can I just get one gift receipt or do I need separate gift receipts for each?

Walmart lady: You can do either.

Me: Then I'd like to just do one. So it's okay if I have some other items that aren't gifts too?

Walmart lady: Yes.

Me: So these bananas, for instance, (setting bananas on conveyor belt), can they be on the same receipt as the gift receipt even though they're not a gift?

Walmart lady: Yes.

At the end of the transaction I said again, "And just wanted to remind you that I'm going to need a gift receipt."

She then hands me a receipt. I said, "Thanks. And where is my gift receipt?" She said, "This is your gift receipt." There was then a lot of back and forth about how this is a "receipt" but not a "GIFT receipt." It had prices on it therefore, how is that a gift receipt? She then told me I would need to get gift receipts for each item and I would have to go to customer service to do that. O.M.G. I mean, could I have been more clear? She should be grateful that she was sort of hideous looking and that's why I didn't go off on her.

So anyway, this other blog about punching people in the throat would have something like that. And on Facebook she'll mention some people she wants to punch in the throat and inevitably people comment and say how mean she is and how "if she doesn't have something nice to say..." Seriously? These are people FOLLOWING her on Facebook! What did they expect? As one person commented, "You're following a blog called "people I want to punch in the throat," not 'butterflies and rainbows.'"

Facebook funnies: recently there was a list somewhere about stuff white girls love to post on Facebook. Some of my faves were posting about having the best husband in the world while said husband is sitting right next to them, making their post the lyrics to any Kings of Leon song and this one which I'll paste:

Write angry letters to companies (Dear EZ PARK, I hate you!), unorganized groups of people (Dear slutty freshmen who think that leggings can be worn as pants…), and non-entities (Dear unseasonably cold weather, WTF?!)

I have a few of my own to add to the list:

--Add "sigh" to the end of a post (Folding the laundry again. Feel like that's all I ever do. Sigh.)

--Say they're "Lovin' Life!" or "I love my life!" or "Life is good!"

--Use their children as their profile pictures. Now, with this one I could potentially offend LOTS of people but let me explain:

--I'm not saying it's BAD, I'm just saying I've noticed that this is something white girls like to do. Now, for me, I have a policy. I do not have a profile picture that I'm not in. Well, once I had the 3Day logo and another time I had Angela from the Office during Doppleganger's week. But other than that, I am in the photo. I mean, it's MY Facebook account, not my kids'. My kids may be in the picture (and they usually are because I rarely have a photo taken alone anymore) but I am always there too.

Wooh, these mini blogs have turned into one long blog. I will try to post again before the end of 2011. And if I have nothing to say I can always go back to "The Pressures of Writing a Blog."

Merry Christmas, Y'all!

Holiday Albums + Celebrity Perfumes

2011-12-14T21:46:00.002-05:00

What do these two things have in common? EVERYTHING!

The other day we were listening to the Jimmy Eat World Christmas album. I thought, "What made Jimmy Eat World think they should do a Christmas album?" I mean, James Taylor, sure. It just doesn't seem like a rock band who writes its own songs would want/need to perform holiday songs.

So my theory is that bands/singers who make Christmas albums think it's easy, quick money. Then they act like they really love the genre but really think it's kinda cheesy.

It's exactly the same with celebs who peddle perfumes. When I heard my buddy Jennifer Aniston was launching a scent, my first thought was, "Yes, I think I WOULD like to smell like Jen!" But then I thought, "Why would she, a super successful actress who is constantly making movies (albeit some not so great), need to push perfume?" And then you can fill in the same theory: CELEBS who make PERFUME think it's easy, quick money. Then they act like they really love the genre but really think it's kinda cheesy.

I saw Sarah Jessica Parker on Oprah once, talking about her perfume. She was all, "I have always wanted to do this!" No way. Her manager said, "You should do a perfume" and she said, "No, that's so cheesy. Plus, I have way too much going on" and her manager replied with, "It's super easy money. You don't really have to do anything but smell it and make sure it's not gross." Then SJP said, "Sign me up!"

Little trivia: Which singers have done both a holiday album AND a perfume? (Answers below. I can't make them upside down but wish I could.)

Jessica Simpson

Mariah Carey

Christina Aguilera

There are probably more but these are just ones I guessed and looked up and confirmed. Now, if Jennifer Aniston made a Christmas album, I would probably buy that.

Big Booty B-Roll

2011-11-30T21:21:00.005-05:00

Oh my gosh, I'm the biggest blog slacker. I can't believe I used to write this every weekday (15 blogs a month) and now I'm barely getting out of November with three blogs.

And speaking of big and slacking, that's my topic for today: Big Booty B-Roll.

First, I'll explain what B-Roll is for those of you who have never worked in advertising, journalism, broadcast production or the adult film industry. (Not actually sure if they use B- Roll in the last one but needed a funny one to add onto the end there).

B-Roll is basically random footage. Like when you're watching House Hunters and they show scenes from the city they're searching but not with the hunters in it. A common B-Roll scene involves lots of people walking down a crowded street.

Pretty much every night on the news there's a story about "Obesity in America." During these stories they inevitably flash to a street scene featuring several large butts waddling. These butts are enormous, jiggling and are almost always sporting sweat pants.

When they're putting together that story I imagine that the journalists say, "And then just throw in some of that Big Booty B-Roll and we'll be all set." I have several questions about the Big Booty B-Roll:

1. How do they capture it? Is someone lurking on the street with their camera at their waist so they can get just the right angle?

2. Has a big-bootied-person ever attacked a camera man, saying, "Hey! Don't you feature my ass on the news!!"

3. How much would you just DIE if you saw your own ass waddling by on the TV screen during the evening news?

4. If you did recognize your own ass, would you pause it and ask your spouse, "Hey, do you think that's me? Is my butt actually so big that they're using it as an example for this report on how soda is expanding our rears?" And would he/she say, "Well, that does look like your magenta sweat pants. And your ass is a lot bigger than average. And you DO drink a lot of soda. Look, there's a soda stain on your pants there." Or would he/she just say, "No way. Lots of people with big butts wear magenta sweat pants."

Next time you see the Big Booty B-Roll, pay attention. It could be you or someone you love. And if it is, you better run to wherever that tape/DVD is being held and destroy it. And you know how that will help? Well, it will at least get you to run.

Disasters with Elsa

2011-11-17T21:56:00.002-05:00

"Gotta be somewhere in 20 minutes? Takes 15 minutes to drive there? Sure, I can take a shower, do my hair and get the kids dressed and ready to go. If I hurry, I may even have time for a snack."

And that's the latest episode of "Disasters with Elsa." Frank made it up and he likes to say it in that deep, voiceover way: "Welcome to Disasters with Elsa." (Hopefully you got the voice from just reading it. Not sure of a good font treatment to describe that.)

Here are some more episodes to stay tuned for this season:

"I don't need directions. I know where it is in my head."

"Gus is sleeping soundly in the car seat. But he looks cold. I'll put a hat on him. He won't wake up."

"I'll go to Target, put gas in the car, make a Sam's run, work out, eat lunch, take care of Gus, do some writing, tackle the laundry and vacuum the house...all in the time that Leo's at preschool." (Time management is a common theme.)

"I don't need to bring an extra diaper."

"I don't need to bring a spare outfit for Leo. He NEVER has accidents anymore." (Lack of preparedness is also a common theme.)

"I can totally walk 60 miles for 3 Days. No problem that I will have a four month old baby and that I need to raise over $2,000." (Okay, that one turned out good but felt like a disaster waiting to happen!)

Join us next time for...Disasters with Elsa (You did the deep voice, right?)

3 Days of Walking and Talking

2011-11-08T09:53:00.003-05:00

Most of you know (because I begged you for money for months!) that I recently did the Susan G. Komen 3 Day for the Cure event. Three of my college buddies came to Atlanta and we walked and camped (okay, in a convention center but there were tents and the floor was hard!) and raised lots of money.

I couldn't believe that on Monday I wasn't sore at all. Well, my legs weren't sore. My throat was sore because I talked and talked and talked. When you're walking 60 miles with people you haven't seen in almost three years, there's a lot of catching up to do. I sure hope I listened a little too!

Leading up to this 3 Day walk I kept thinking, "What did I get myself into?" But it totally exceeded my expectations. It was such a well-organized, fun, moving event that I am really glad I got myself into it...and that my friends did too.

Here's a video of our journey. Enjoy!

Dollar Store Delusions

2011-10-30T15:20:00.003-05:00

Add this to the list of “things I can’t believe actually work” (along with freeways and toilets): Dollar Stores. I was at one the other day and I heard someone say, “I just can’t believe this place. Everything is a dollar!” His shopping partner said, “Yeah, it’s the dollar store” and he said again, “But everything, EVERYTHING is a dollar!”

I feel the same way. And not because I love to buy a bunch of crap I don’t need at a really low price but rather because I can’t believe this business model works. I can just imagine the conversation that lead to the invention of dollar stores:

“Hey, you know how everybody likes to pay as little as possible for everything? Well, what if we made a store where everything was a really low price?”

“You mean like $10? Everything is $10?”

“No, I mean like a REALLY low price.”

“Like $5?”

“No, a dollar. What if we had a store and everything in it was a dollar?”

“That sounds like a store full of crap to me.”

“No, we’d have pretty decent stuff like greeting cards, party favors, dish towels, wrapping paper and those scented bags for poopy diapers.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. We wouldn’t make any money. Our profit margin would be like, a penny, on each of those items. And those scented poopy diaper bags? Those things are awesome. We could probably only sell two of them for a dollar and still make money.”

“No, we need to sell them in packs of 50!”

“You’re crazy, Dollar Dude. I’m gonna go work for someone who has a GOOD idea like the person who invented mylar balloons.”

“We’re gonna have those too!”

And they do. They freakin’ have mylar balloons for a dollar! How do they do it? I mean, I could believe that you could have a store full of dollar products that were yucky. But they have decent stuff. You can get packs of party paper plates, those foil baking dishes, shampoo and food.*

Our dollar store isn’t even gross. It’s very clean and the clientele is quite respectable. I’m not saying these are the same people who shop at Saks but it’s not like they have B.O. (Aside: I walked past a guy at Kroger the other day who had B.O. and I thought, “He gives new meaning to the term ‘dirty old man.’” I forgot to post that on Facebook so I’m using it here.)

Anyway, the people are alright, the products are fine and the price is unbelievable.

I don’t know how you are so successful, Dollar Stores but you have certainly succeeded in perplexing me. I bet you live in a mansion with a pool that’s in the shape of a dollar sign.

*I refuse to buy food from a dollar store.

The Elsa of Sandwich

2011-10-18T14:05:00.007-05:00

Joey on "Friends" and I have one thing in common: we LOVE sandwiches. Sandwiches have always been my favorite food. When I was little I used to eat them for breakfast. I had ham and cheese because ham is sort of breakfast-y. I also loved pimento cheese sandwiches and "chicken spread" sandwiches. My all-time favorite was cheese and mayo on white bread--microwaved.

In college my sandwiches got wackier. I discovered I loved a crunch so I would put Cheese Puffs in my turkey and cheese sandwich. I remember someone once commented that they looked like little fingers. Ew! And if I had access to a jar of queso, my all-time f

avorite thing was a turkey and cheese sandwich with Cheese Puffs dipped in queso. Yum.

It was during my undergrad experience (not that I had a grad experience) when I started turning otherwise normal food into sandwiches, especially pasta. Lasagna on a bread stick became lasagna-wich, spaghetti on garlic bread became spaghetti-wi

ch.

I love sandwich shops. Austin has the best--Longhorn Po Boy and Thundercloud Subs. I'm not a sandwich snob though; I'll eat Subway or Blimpie. Firehouse is pretty good too. At all those places I still love to put chips on my wich.

After my palette change of 2004, I started eating fewer sandwiches. It wasn't that I didn't like them; it's just that there were so many other things I liked.

So these days when I do have a sandwich, I like to get wacky with it. This week my Mother-in-Law is here and she's like my wacky sandwich partner in crime. I'll design a sandwich and then tell her the ingredients to see how she'll react. She's always game! Yesterday I said, "How about this? An avocado, hard boiled egg and Laughing Cow queso sandwich?"

"Sounds great!" she said. And you know what? It WAS great! I've made wacky sandwiches for her before but I can't remember what they had on them--probably some concoction involving hummus. I love to hummus up a sandwich.

So while my love for sandwiches hasn't wavered, my sandwich tastes have changed. I used to be a heavy mayo girl and now I can experiment with mustard or even go without a spread. Bottom line, I rarely meet or make a sandwich that I don't like. And if that does happen, I can always dip it in queso.

(While looking for a picture of a Cheese Puff sandwich, I found this one with peanut butter. Now even I think that is wacky...but I'd probably still eat it.)

Spice Girl

2011-10-03T21:47:00.002-05:00

Back when I first started blogging, I wrote a lot about my kitchen. I was excited about it because I was just learning to cook. And I was just learning to cook because I had a lot more time on my hands: I didn't have a full-time job or kids. (Man, those were the days! Why didn't I appreciate them more?)

But since having kids I haven't written about my kitchen as much. Oh, I'm still in there plenty--making separate meals for everyone. Frank likes a hearty, carby meal. I'm now gluten free (more on that later) and Leo...well, Leo has about five things he eats (mac and cheese, "eggs he may pick up with his hands," pancakes, oatmeal and...make that four things).

So today I wanted to show you some fun things I've done to improve my kitchen. I'm most excited about my spice rack replacement. I had this cool double-decker lazy Susan spice rack but it was starting to buckle under the pressure of my multitude of spices. I temporarily removed the spices and when I went to throw away the spice rack, Leo had a gazillion questions about why. I thought it was cute when he said, "But we can fix it!" Now that's thinking like his Popsy (not like mommy who prefers to just scrap it and buy something new).

For a few days we lived like this. Oh, the horror!!

But then I went to Bed, Bath and Beyond and bought this contraption that I had seen on TV. Love how it's compact and makes it easy to see my spices.

I do not like that it didn't fit in my cabinets (my cabinets' fault, not the spice rack's) or that it didn't hold my big spices.

While I was at B, B and B I picked up a few other things. Even though I love this olive oil holder from my MIL, it had started to get, as my friend Liz would say, "Dundies." As you can see the oil had affected the color on the holder and as you can't see, the spout came off all the time. Now this is sort of a lame example because I failed to take a picture of the new one. It's not nearly as cute as this one; it's just clear. But still, I am pleased with it because I can see how much olive oil is left and it doesn't spill.

Now I have two "afters" without "befores." My new dish soap pump will hopefully be with me a long time. As you may recall I have tried so many of these (including olive oil holders!) and finally went with the pump. But my last pump wasn't working out for me. The soap was oozing out of the wrong places. This one looked sturdy and like it was made just for dish soap so I'm counting on it to last.

You know, I take back what I wrote about being most excited about the spice rack. I am actually most excited about this silverware holder. Before I had a plastic white one. Why live that way when these lovely wooden (bamboo?) ones are not very expensive! Every time I open the drawer I smile. (Frank does too, although he would be embarrassed that I'm telling you that.)

And speaking of bargains, B, B and B let me use my 20% off even though it had expired AND allowed me to throw in my $5 off coupon too. Y'all, I got all this for $50! That's a spice rack, a silverware holder, a dish soap pump and an olive oil dispenser! Okay, my male readers (if they have even gotten this far) probably don't realize that's a bargain but trust me, it is! It's practically a kitchen remodel. I'm done for awhile though. Next thing to go, I'll let Leo take a crack at fixing it.

Permission to Complain

2011-09-29T11:17:00.003-05:00

There are a few things that drive me crazy that are not socially acceptable to complain about.

Coughing, for instance: I think coughing is the most irritating sound. I think I also hate its' inconsistency. Someone may cough and then cough again in 30 seconds. They may cough four times in a row and then not again for another four minutes. It may go loud cough, hacking cough, no cough, little cough, back to hacking cough. Ugh, pick a cough and stick with it! There's not even a response to coughing like "bless you" for sneezing. (Sneezing is way better than coughing, by the way).

But it's not cool to complain about coughing. Why? Because it's not their fault. They don't mean to cough. I myself have been known to cough. Sometimes people cough because they're sick. Who complains about sick people? Me. I do. All I know is that when someone coughs, I want to yell, "Shut up!" But I can't because that would be crazy.

Here's one similar to coughing (in that it's a bodily function that comes from the mouth): Baby Spit-up. I have a big chip on my shoulder about spit-up. When I complain about my children spitting up, people often say, "Oh, it's no big deal."

To these people I think but don't say: You're right. It's not as big a deal as kids starving to death in Africa. But it's a huge pain. I change Gus' clothes about four times a day. I change my own clothes at least twice. I'm constantly wiping up floors, chairs and the shoulders of friends who come over. I bring four bibs, six burp cloths and spare onesies everywhere I go. When I put Gus down to sleep, he often spits up which not only disrupts his sleep but then I have to change a sheet, change his clothes, change his swaddle blanket. Once he spit up all over the church pew and left a pool, a pool I tell you, of spit up. Forget about tummy time unless I want the poor kid to be face down in a puddle of regurgitated milk.

But I can't say any of that. It would sound like I'm not grateful for my healthy baby or that I think it's his fault. So spit-up, just like coughing, is annoying but taboo for venting.

My last complaint: the rain. This one's a little different. I don't have a problem with the rain itself but more of a beef with this cliche exchange:

Me: "Ugh, it's raining."

Some unoriginal person: "What? Are you going to melt?"

No, the rain doesn't make you melt. It doesn't hurt you in any way to get wet from the rain. However, it's annoying, right? I mean, nobody likes to go outside in the pouring rain unless they're in a music video. Who likes to get soaking wet after they've gotten dressed and flat-ironed their hair? If people liked getting wet in the rain then the umbrella companies sure wouldn't sell a lot of product. So rain, while necessary, is not totally convenient (but clearly, not okay to complain about).

And if you have a complaint about this blog, go get your own blog and complain about it!

The Hoarders' Convention

2011-09-21T20:19:00.003-05:00

"NEVER AGAIN!"

This is what I said to Frank after returning from the bi-annual kids' consignment sale. It's not that I'm a snob (because I have no problem with my kids wearing used stuff), it's just that I am not a consignment sale person. And this is actually a really nice consignment sale. The owners are very selective about the stuff that gets sold. I appreciate that. I just don't like the act of shopping at it (or any consignment sale).

Frank is much better at it. He loves to go on Sunday because that's the 50% off day. This time I took the half-off God's Day shift because he had work to do. Both of us thought we were getting the short end of the stick.

Here are a few things that were said at the consignment sale (mostly in the very long checkout line) that I just couldn't relate to:

"I got to shop early because I consigned my stuff. I got so much stuff!" (Huh? You sold your junk and bought more junk? What is this, a swap meet?)

"I bought twelve Halloween costumes! I'm set for years. And if they don't wear them at Halloween, they can be dress-up clothes!"

"I came all four days. The first day I scoped it out and the next few days my mom and I shopped."

"I got so much stuff. I mean, some of the shirts were like, a dollar. Even if you don't like it, who cares?"

"I heard about this other consignment sale. They have really good stuff, not that we really need anything."

"I'd rather buy stuff for her (baby) than new shoes for me." (Obviously.)

"I'm just going to go ask a question. I'll be right back. Hold my place in line." (Totally uncool consignment sale behavior! I mean, I stepped out to look at dirty exersaucers and did I ask for my place back? No! It set me back about a dozen people!)

When Leo and Gus have grown out of their baby/toddler clothes I know I will be tempted to participate in this. Please, do me a favor. Refer me to this blog.

P.S. I couldn't decide between this title and "Little Shop of Hoarders." I will use that one someday soon.

The Exercise Class Wave

2011-09-10T14:45:00.000-05:00

Last Tuesday was my first official day back teaching spin. There was a little confusion about how old babies have to be to go in the play center (12 weeks or 3 months? I thought the former and I was wrong) so I ended up bringing Gus to class with me.

Most of the people in my class were familiar faces and they were cooing and oohing over Gus. They didn't mind him being there at all. Although I do think his cuteness was distracting them from working to their full potentials.

About twenty minutes into class one lady packed up her bike and left. I came to the conclusion that she had a problem with me, my class or even my infant. Others I've mentioned this to disagreed. They offered other possibilities such as: she could have not felt well; she could have always planned to leave at that time; she may have suddenly realized she forgot to be somewhere.

But I know, after almost six years of fitness class instructing, how to spot a unsatisfied customer. Here are the facts:

--It's totally fine to leave a class early, especially if it's one of the reasons stated above. But twenty minutes in is an odd time to leave a class. Often people leave ten minutes before the end, maybe 15. They simply can't stay the full hour. That's okay. Another common check-out time is halfway, after 30 minutes. They figure they got in 30 minutes and now they'll either leave or go do something else for 3o minutes.

--Coming late is also fine. Some people feel bad about coming into a class late. They'll say, "I came to take your class but I got here ten minutes late and didn't want to disrupt it." I really don't mind people coming in late. If the class isn't very full, I'm happy to get more bodies in there. (It's not my favorite when new people come in late, though, because then I have to get off my bike to set them up and explain things which IS disruptive.)

--The main reason I know that this lady didn't like my class was because, as she left, she DID NOT wave at me. If you are leaving a class early for one of the above--and I'll just say it, approved reasons--then you would wave, right? You would give that polite little wave to the instructor that tells me, "It's not you, it's me." And then I'll know that you either: realized you had to be somewhere, only wanted to work out for a little while or you felt like you were going to die. All fine reasons to leave a class early.

The wave I'm describing is much like "the confident wave" I referred to in a previous blog. It's not a hand-flapping side-to-side "HELLO!!" kind of wave. It's not a baby-style up and down "BYE BYE" type gesture either. It's more like a nonchalant, cool wave: Hand up, couple of tiny shakes side to side and then you're out the door. A "Thank you" and a smile really seals the deal. Then we know that we're good, our class is good and our baby is good. Oh, and unlike the confident wave, you can do this one even if you're ugly.

Now, if you're leaving because class was tough and you're about to go to the hospital, I don't really have a wave for that.

It's a Matter of Time

2011-08-31T20:21:00.005-05:00

Whenever I've had to list out my strengths in a job interview, I usually say that I'm organized, proactive and very healthy. The healthy one usually gets a laugh or a perplexed look so I then add, "I really never get sick. It's helpful at work because I always show up."

It's true that I am still very healthy and I rarely get sick. It's also true that I generally show up--to teach spin class, to an event I've RSVP'd to or to appointments. I cannot, however, seem to show up anywhere on time.

I wouldn't say that I'm chronically late. I'm just always rushing and cutting it close. I don't allow time for any mishaps or mini-catastrophes. For instance, the other day I was heading out the door for the kids' doctor's appointments and I was proud of myself because I was leaving at 10am and the appointment was at 10:30. I then discovered ants in the house on the way out the door and that set me back about four minutes. After starting to leave again and then going back for Leo's favorite muffins, a pit stop and dropping something in the mail, I had lost about six more minutes. That's how I ended up leaving at 10:10 instead of 10am.

Woah, did I just write a whole paragraph on the tragedy of leaving ten minutes later than planned? And did you just read it?

I'll try to liven up this blog. I DO have a point or two:

1. I am addicted to being productive. That is why I cut things so close when it comes to timing. Now, this is not like saying "I'm a perfectionist" as many people do in the aforementioned interview scenario. I'm not masking a strength as a flaw. It really can be a flaw. If I have an hour, I want to get as many things done as I can in that hour so that, when that hour is over, I can say, "Wow. I did a lot." So if it's time to head out the door to go somewhere but I think I can cram in one more thing, I'll do it. The idea of showing up somewhere early makes me feel like, "Well, I could have put those clothes in the dryer. I could have sent that email. I could have brushed my teeth (Ew, I hope I didn't leave the house without doing that.)"

So I think if I could just accept that I can't get 27 things done in an hour, I think I could better manage my time. Also, I need to get comfortable with the idea that being early is okay.

2. I've realized that if I don't feel like I have TONS of time, like the kind of time where you wonder how you will ever even need all that time to get ready, then I will not leave on time. And if I think I have just enough time, that's a recipe for being late.

Yikes. Even my two points didn't do anything for this topic. Still, it was cathartic for me and hopefully helped you explore your own issues (if you have any) with time management.

Or maybe it just put you to sleep and therefore made you late for wherever you were going after reading this blog. If that is the case, I apologize.

The Sam's Shake-up

2011-08-22T13:40:00.003-05:00

Overall, I've really been impressed with the kindness of Georgians. I rarely have trouble switching lanes in traffic; most people I encounter use their polite words; folks are always careful not to offend each other. But everybody can't be perfect. Never was this more clear than the woman I encountered at Sam's today.

As a precursor to my story, can I just give a mini-rant about shopping in the 21st century? I've said it before but I just want to shop anonymously! I don't want another card in my wallet; I don't want to be part of your club; I don't want to give you my phone number, email or social. I mean, whatever happened to going in a store, buying some things, paying for them and leaving? It's impossible!

Back to my real rant: So I walk into Sam's (with Gus, by the way, who is a ticking time bomb like all babies) and the woman who checks my membership card starts asking me if I've heard about some program they have...savings...all kinds of discounts...I'll love it...blah blah blah. I should have just said "no thanks" but I made the mistake of nodding I guess so she then leads me over to this other guy and says I'm interested in this program.

Then the guy explains it in a way that I decide that yes, I do need to upgrade my membership and I follow him over to the customer service desk to do this. But the whole time I'm thinking, "I need to really hurry because Gus is going to wake up and I don't have a lot of time..."

When we get to the desk another employee says to my employee, "Oh, can you ring her up real quick?" about some other customer. He said, "Yes, as soon as I help her" (about me). The customer who needed to be rung up (again, we're at the customer service desk, not a check-out lane) asks me, "Do you mind if I go ahead of you? I'm kind of in a hurry."

I was actually speechless. No, it's not the craziest request ever but what about me made her think I wouldn't be in a hurry too? I mean, she didn't have a two-month old baby with her! And even if I didn't have Gus, she knows nothing about what's going on in my life. I remember when this happened to my friend Claire she fired back: "I guess you think your time is more valuable than mine?" That's totally what I wanted to say but I was really frozen. And since I didn't say anything she said, "Thanks" and got in front of me.

I glared at her. I glared at the guy who HAD been helping me. And then I stormed off. He yelled, "Miss! Miss! Come back!" But I didn't. I just went on with my shopping. If he really wanted me to upgrade my membership that bad then he could have said, "I'm sorry. This lady was here first." And THAT LADY! I have never in my life asked someone if I could go in front of them. And I have been in a big hurry plenty of times. But I figure it's my own fault that I'm in a hurry. I obviously didn't calculate the time correctly. I would never expect the person in front of me to have to wait because of my poor time management.

Then, get this: I'm in the frozen food aisle and the guy comes back there and finds me. Now, I have to admit, that's pretty good customer service, even if it is a little stalkerish. I glared at him some more and rolled my eyes. He said, "That lady was so rude! I'm so sorry. But you could save $2 on these paper towels if you upgrade your membership!" After telling him I felt bullied into that whole upgrading my membership thing anyway, I carried on with my shopping.

But ultimately, I did upgrade my membership...but not until I was checking out, just to make him suffer a little.

Oh, and while I was upgrading my membership and taking a new Sam's picture, Gus screamed his head off.

Thanks, lady. I blame you and that hurry that you were "kind of in."

Small Sacrifices for Somalia

2011-08-11T06:06:00.007-05:00

Anderson Cooper totally got to me the other night. His coverage of the famine in Somalia made me cry. There are a lot of sad things in the world but people going hungry, to me, is one of the worst. And let me just give a quick shout out to Anderson Cooper, who I think is an incredible journalist. See, AC doesn't treat reporting like a job. It's clearly his passion. He's so sincere when he covers these tragedies. You can tell it really affects him. No wonder he turned prematurely grey.

He talked about a family in Somalia who had lost all their children to the famine. Their last one had just died and they still had his body because they couldn't afford to bury him. Anderson paid for it because, he said, "It was the humane thing to do."

So I started thinking about what I could do to help Somalia. First, I went to the website that AC told me about: www.cnn.com/impact and gave money to Save the Children. And then I started thinking like Oprah: how could I make my donation go further?

Here's my idea: I'm going to encourage people to make "small sacrifices for Somalia." Just think of some little luxuries you could give up for a month so that these people in Somalia could have the simplest necessity. When I told Frank about this he said, "Oh, so you could give up the housekeeper for a month?"

Now that's just silly. No reason for the housekeeper to suffer too!

Instead, I reasoned that if our family could give up going out to eat three times in a month, I could save $100. (I'm talking about restaurants with a waiter, not Chick Fil-a). So I was able to give $100 to Save the Children.

And $100 feeds a child for 100 days!

Here are some other ideas:

Skip the movies for two people one time and you could give $20. If you usually get candy and drinks, you could give $30.

Give up a Starbucks froo-froo coffee (the kind that costs $3+) @ twice a week for a month and you could give $25

Usually buy wine at the grocery store? Sacrifice two bottles at $9 each (you don't spend more than $10 usually do you?) and you've got $18 to give (although you could probably round that up to $20, don't ya think?)

Instead of buying ten shirts at $20 each for your fall wardrobe, buy eight. Then you've got $40 for the famine.

The point is that these are little things that you probably wouldn't even miss anyway. Now, the housekeeper, that I would miss. But going out to eat, that's a small sacrifice. You could also look at it this way: would you really miss a dollar a day for the next 100 days?

And yes, it's true that insecurity in this part of the world sometimes makes it difficult for aid to reach the victims. However, organizations like UNICEF, the World Food Program and Save the Children are constantly on top of this and they do manage to get in. So don't think that your donation won't go where it needs to go.

So make a small sacrifice. Feed these hungry kids. Don't let Anderson Cooper's hair get any more grey than it already is.

Please comment on this blog if you give and then we can really see how much my "campaign" generated!

Friday Night Bites

2011-08-02T17:24:00.001-05:00

The other night Frank and I took “the kids” to Bahama Breeze. When we told the waitress that she could feel free to bring out Leo’s mac and cheese before our food she said, “Hey, were you guys here last week?”

She remembered our mac and cheese request from the week before. And when the guitar player recognized Leo we knew what was happening…

We were turning into our parents.

We now had a Friday night place…a restaurant that we keep coming back to every weekend, rather than venturing out to a new one or even a different one.

For my family there were three restaurants that we frequented on Friday nights. Now, I don’t mean that we rotated these restaurants. I mean that for a period of about three to five years we patronized Wendy’s (back when they had the salad bar). Then it was Grandy’s. And finally, Golden Corral. (Or it may have been Grandy’s and then Wendy’s but it was definitely GC when I was in my teens.)

It was like a ritual. There was no discussion of where to go. We would just automatically go to the same place.

In Frank’s family it was Little Caesar’s Pizza. Every Friday they would pick up Little Caesar’s and bring it home. Never did they have it delivered. Never did they venture out to Domino’s. And never did they eat it on premise (although I’m not sure if LC’s has seating.)

I guess once you become a family of at least four, you’re so tired of making decisions that you need one thing that’s just consistent. Or maybe you just go with the one that works—the one that makes the majority happy.

But we were surprised that our Friday night staple would be Bahama Breeze. For one thing, when we first moved to Atlanta we made a point to only go to restaurants that we couldn’t go to in Texas. But after four years, we feel like we’ve tried enough Atlanta originals and we’re fine with the familiar. Plus, Frank likes the Aruba Red beer, I like the food and fun drinks and Leo likes the mac and cheese and guitar player. Oh, and Gus thinks it’s a great place for sleeping in his car seat.

Still, if you had told us four years ago that we’d repeatedly visit BB, we’d say, “No way!”

Also, it’s a little pricey for a weekly trip. If we’re gonna adopt a restaurant and become true regulars, we’re gonna need to take it down a notch or we’ll go broke.

Easy problem to solve: There’s a Golden Corral right across the street from BB. I don’t think they have Aruba Red but I hear the mac and cheese is excellent.

Ugly Theories

2011-07-19T15:46:00.001-05:00

I’ve always wondered why wearing glasses makes you seem smart. What does poor eyesight have to do with intelligence? It’s like saying that deaf people are good dancers. Or people with severe acne are great cooks. Or bald people are excellent painters.

I could go on and on.

But I have made one revelation along these lines. I have figured out why people who make good grades are often ugly.

Hear me out: I’m not talking about “ugly” as in these people have bad features (although they might). I’m talking about the kind of ugly where the people just don’t do anything for themselves; they’re not put together. They’re disheveled, frumpy.

I first came to this conclusion in college. Up until the second semester of my junior year my grades had been so-so. Sometimes they had just been so. My appearance, if I may brag a little, was better than so-so. I had a well-kept mane of blonde hair; a slim physique and I always sported flattering clothes (well, for the 90s).

But in the spring of junior year I took on a challenging course load: several upper-level advertising classes (they’re hard; I promise!) and an intense creative writing class. Instead of sitting around the sorority house primping, I was at the library—studying, meeting with groups or writing and editing papers.

One day I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror: glasses, messy pony tail, wrinkled t-shirt, no make-up…I had turned ugly! My priorities had shifted. I didn’t look good because I didn’t have TIME to look good. “I now know why smart people are ugly!” I announced in the TV room to my sorority sisters. They turned to look at me for a second, probably saw that I had forgotten the rule about “double lettering” (wearing sorority letters on your hat as well as your shirt) and went back to watching Dawson’s Creek.

I may not have gotten any dates that semester but I did get a 4.0. (Things went back to normal senior year. Good thing or I might not have met Frank if I had been so ugly!)

Recently I thought of this theory because I realized it applies to moms as well. Often we look disheveled and frumpy. And why do we sport dorky clothes like mom jeans? For the same reason as the smart people. We don’t have time—no time to fix ourselves up and no time to keep up with the current trends. My boys occupy so much of my time that I have decided to stop blow drying my hair all the way. It used to take me about ten minutes to get it good and dry. Now I need those ten minutes so I only allow myself to spend five minutes drying it, just enough so it doesn’t drip everywhere.

That leaves me with wavy, straggly hair—UGLY! I just have different priorities now. But it should all pay off in the end. Hey, I wonder what the equivalent of a 4.0 is in mommyhood?

Abby, Abby, Abby

2011-07-13T13:22:00.001-05:00

Dear Abby has done it again! Why do I keep reading her column? I can’t help it; I just love to read about people’s problems. What I need to do is stop reading her answers because they are SO ridiculous.

I’ve ranted about this before but where I think Abby is the most off-base is questions with the theme “How do I put this?” These people are trying to find delicate/polite/tactful ways of addressing uncomfortable situations. For instance, let’s say someone asked Dear Abby “How do I tell my co-worker “Wanda” that she has body odor without hurting her feelings?” I’m sure D.A.’s response would be, “Tell her, ‘Wanda, you may want to consider showering in the morning before coming to work because I can smell you from my cubicle which is 30 feet away. Also, make sure you are using a soap with a pleasant scent. This will help you to go further at work.”

Wanda’s gonna love hearing that. And what’s more, Wanda is so going to appreciate her co-worker’s honesty and they’ll totally stay friends.

All of Abby’s advice in this arena is fine if the person doesn’t want to remain friends with the other person. I mean, if we could all just going around saying what we thought then we wouldn’t need to write to you, would we, Abs?

I thought this rant was worth revisiting because Abby delivered a doozy recently. Here’s the letter:

DEAR ABBY: For the past 10 years or so, at bridal and baby showers I have attended, blank envelopes have been handed to guests upon arrival with instructions to self-address them. This, apparently, saves the gift recipient time having to address envelopes to the gift-givers.

I usually set the envelope aside and don't fill it out, but last week the guest of honor's mother handed me an envelope and pen and stood there until I completed the task.

After spending time and money shopping for and paying for a gift, I feel insulted having to address my own thank-you envelope!

Can you think of an appropriate response when I'm asked to participate in this insulting new party ritual? Or should I stay quiet and accept that most people are ignorant regarding good manners? -- INSULTED IN OHIO

Back to Writinggal: I totally agree with “insulted.” I think this practice is totally tacky. I mean, why don’t we just write our own thank-you notes, have the guest of honor sign them and then take them home that day? That way the gift-receiver could save time AND a stamp! I was curious as to what Abby would say so of course I read on:

DEAR INSULTED: How about this for a response: "After spending my time shopping for a gift, and my hard-earned money to pay for it, it is insulting to be expected to address my own thank-you envelope. If she likes the gift, she can address the envelope herself. If not, she can return the gift to me."

Back to Writinggal: Really? That’s what she should say? Because that’s even ruder than the thoughts “insulted” was thinking! Guess she should have added, “I’d like to remain friends with both the hostess and the guest of honor so I need to be careful how I word this.” Because after a rant like Abby suggested, “insulted” might as well storm out the door, Diaper Genie in hand.

If I were writing the column, I would say:

Dear Insulted: How about this for a response: “Oh, that won’t be necessary. We’re good friends so she has my address.”

It’s still direct but more polite, don’t ya think? I should totally take over this column. I have a hunch it pays more than writing this blog.

Signs you’re in a Pyramid Scheme

2011-07-07T14:35:00.001-05:00

Have you ever noticed that people who are in pyramid schemes never seem to know that that’s what they’re doing? They call it “multi-level marketing” and somehow think that makes it all different. That’s because in a true pyramid scheme (which is illegal), there is actually no product being sold. But with MLM, there IS a product, it’s just that the product is secondary to the real business going on—recruiting friends and acquaintances to pay into the business. So I say it’s still a pyramid scheme, just a legalized pyramid scheme.

The popularity of social media is breeding even more pyramid schemers, I’ve noticed. Sometimes they’re pedaling their products but most of the time, they’re pushing the scheme—that is, trying to recruit more disciples to buy into the biz. If you’re not sure if your “job” is part of a PS, I’ve put together this handy checklist to help you out.

If you are required to buy a heap load of product to start your job, you might be in a pyramid scheme.

(Please add “You might be in a pyramid scheme” silently to yourself for each subsequent item.)

If you throw parties or have friends throw parties that require friends to bring their checkbooks…

If you feel compelled to recruit friends to sell products…

If 75% of your Facebook and Twitter posts are about getting people to “join your team"…

If the other 25% of your Facebook and Twitter posts are about how great your life is because you work for yourself…

If you find yourself preaching about your products and your get-rich-quick career to anyone who will (or won’t) listen…

If you stalk women at Target and approach them about your business…

If friends are running from you or won’t call you back because all you talk about is trying to get them to sell something…

If other people on your team have won cars and trips but you haven’t because you feel awkward hitting up your friends and/or strangers at Target…

If your business model looks like this…

Drumsticks = Summer

2011-06-23T16:07:00.001-05:00

I love summertime. Sure, it’s really, really hot. And sure, I’m not on any kind of school break nor do I have kids who are singing, “School’s out for summer.” I’m not even going anywhere this summer.

But I still love summer—summer clothes, water activities…it’s all like that Country Time Lemonade commercial where kids are jumping in the lake and chasing fireflies.

And if you look in our freezer, you’ll also see another sign of summer—Drumsticks.

Frank likes to talk about the summer when he ate a Drumstick every day. Or was it that he ate a whole box of Drumsticks in one sitting? I can’t remember but somehow, he got tired of Drumsticks for a couple of decades.

But the Drumstick drought is over! A friend mentioned them and when I saw them in the store, I just had to have them. First, I bought the Lil Drums:

I thought they’d be perfect for Leo. And they were, but Frank really wanted the original Drumstick:

Frank was elated when he opened the freezer and found his favorite summer treat.

Now, I’m not sure why Drumsticks are more summery than any other ice cream novelty but it might be Nestle’s smart marketing strategy. They have a whole section on the Drumstick site called “Forever Summer.”

And that is where I found this awesome poem that summarizes my love for Drumsticks and my love for this season:

Summer isn’t deadlines, it’s tan lines. Summer isn’t a million things to do, it’s a beach chair in the sun, with nothing to do. Summer isn’t three months on a calendar, it’s a state of mind. And we’ve got our sweet summer memories to keep us warm all summer long.

So even though I’m not really on vacation and it’s unbearably hot, I’m gonna just enjoy summer and eat my Drumsticks…until those evil “Back to School” ads come out.

Meet Gus!

2011-06-15T12:25:00.001-05:00

August “Gus” Frank Simcik came into the world on June 10th, 2011. He was a big boy, weighing 8 pounds 3 ounces and 20 inches long. So far he is calm, sweet and easy going. People keep telling me that second children know that they need to be this way. And in the tradition of how parents should be with second children, I’m totally late in getting out pictures of him. I think I posted Leo’s birth blog on his birthday, from the hospital! Oh, and while Gus is very laid-back, he does have one demand: do not call him “Donald Duck” anymore!

Gus’ First Few Days

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Frank’s Rules for the Weekend

2011-06-05T14:08:00.001-05:00

Frank works hard all week so he really relishes his weekend time. Sure, he “fires up the computer” (as he puts it) a few times but he rarely goes into the office or does a lot of work on the weekends.

Over the years he’s developed some weekend rituals and traditions:

1. Never wear a watch. In fact, if someone asks him what time it is, he’ll say, “I don’t wear a watch. It’s the weekend!” Or if I try to coordinate plans he’ll borrow a line from Jordan Catalano in “My So Called Life” and say, “I don’t make plans. Whatever happens happens.”

2. Don’t shave. If we have something to go to on a weekend, like a wedding, he’ll ask me, “Do you think I need to shave for this?” I have no idea what the rules are as far as facial hair and etiquette. (I also don’t know if guys can go outside in their undershirts, another question Frank always ask me. Anybody?)

3. Drink beer. There’s four beer Friday, anything goes Saturday and what’s gone from two beer Sunday to four beer Sunday. Now that it’s summer, he really likes to drink beer by the pool. That’s why he prefers the neighborhood pool (beer allowed) over the YMCA pool (no booze).

4. Don’t tuck in your shirt. He even manages to follow this rule at church. He wears khaki pants and a Polo-style shirt and it actually looks not too sloppy.

5. Listen to country music. This is new in the past few months. I’ve always loved country so I was thrilled when Frank started turning the radio station to “The Bull” and “Kicks.” But come to find out, we have different taste in country music. While I prefer the more pop-sounding Keith Urban and Sugarland, Frank likes blue-collar country like Jason Aldean and Billy Currington. If it has the words “whiskey,” and/or “tractor” in it, he’s a fan. Just to give you an example, Frank likes that Luke Bryan song that goes:

Rain makes corn, corn makes whiskey
Whiskey makes my baby feel a little frisky
Back roads are boggin' up, my buddies pile up in my truck
We hunt our honeys down, we take 'em into town
Start washin' all our worries down the drain
Rain is a good thing

Yesterday they were playing country music at the YMCA pool. Frank said, “Yes, it feels like the weekend! If only I could have a beer.”

Then on Mondays it’s back to punctual, clean-shaven, sober, nicely dressed, AM-radio listening Frank.

His co-workers have no idea that he spends his weekends living the trailer park life!

House Hunters Junkie: The Sequel

2011-05-26T14:28:00.001-05:00

It’s been over four years since I first wrote this post on about my love for House Hunters on HGTV.

Y’all, I’m still obsessed. You’d think my interest would have waned by now but it hasn’t. See, HH has evolved: they no longer have a host. (Sorry, Suzanne Whang!) I think this is an improvement because now we don’t waste time watching some lady walk down a generic street. We get right to the good stuff—the insides of the houses! Also, they often show you where houses are on a map. What a great visual. Because, if you fancy yourself a pseudo real estate expert like I do, you know that location is everything.

The show also keeps my interest because they keep getting CRAZY people. Now, I don’t think HGTV actually chooses them because they’re crazy. I think HGTV is going for interesting stories, good locales, etc. And the people aren’t obviously crazy like on those intervention or hoarder or couponing shows. But to me, they end up looking ridiculous!

For example, I was watching a House Hunters International (which I actually like better than domestic HH, especially if it’s a beachy place) and this family was looking for a house in St. John. (Bonus since it’s a place I’ve been to!)

So the voiceover person says that this couple has been scrimping and saving their entire lives to afford a place in St. John. They have two college-aged kids. Even dad tears up when they talk about how long this has been a dream for them and how they can’t believe it’s finally coming true. They have worked hard, lived modestly and now they have a budget of a million dollars for this beach house.

“And they have one day to find it,” says the HH voiceover person.

HUH??? ONE DAY? You’ve saved a MILLION dollars, dreamed for 20+ years and you can only spare ONE DAY to go house hunting? I mean, I would at least want to take two days just so I would have on different outfits for the show!! WHY? WHY? WHY?

I love St. John. I love House Hunters International but these people drove me nuts!!

Then there was one in Charlotte I think where this couple (who were both doctors) and their kid + one on the way had $700K to spend. The houses were awesome because they were older, close to town and beautiful. But the one they chose had no garage. NO GARAGE for $700K? I realize you gotta make some sacrifices living in the city but come on! Of course, in the follow-up segment they were all, “We love not having a garage! It’s no problem at all!” Okay, guys. Your kids obviously don’t have any ride-along toys.

And now onto the wackiest HH I’ve EVER seen. There’s so much to say that I better bullet point it.

(Or check it out here if you like: http://www.hgtv.com/video/fiji-vacation-home-for-six-video/index.html)

House Hunters International
Family with mom, dad and four kids live in Tucson
They want a vacation home in Fiji because that’s where they honeymooned and they “love the people.”
They pack up their four kids and go house hunting. The house they choose is a compound of several houses.

Now here’s why this one is so ridiculous:

These people have a pretty modest house in Tucson. Their two daughters—who are 11 and 15 months—have to share a room! My point? They ain’t loaded.
Fiji? Really? Is it necessary to go SO FAR? How often are you gonna take your FOUR kids to Fiji? Again, they ain’t loaded and that’s a long flight for those kids. Plus, don’t they have to go to school?
The house that’s a compound: It’s beautiful but not really kid-friendly. Each villa has a bedroom or two and since they can’t be in different houses from their kids, they were just all going to sleep in one room.
So let me get this straight: You’re gonna spend $500K on a vacation home that takes like 20 hours to get to by plane, pay for six of you to fly there enough times a year to make it a worthy investment and then, when your jet-lagged kids finally get there, you’re gonna all pile up into one room? All because you like the people?

I take it back. Some House Hunters ARE as crazy as Hoarders.

“Would you rather?” in Real Life

2011-05-19T13:45:00.001-05:00

In college, we used to love to play the “Would you rather?” game. Here’s an example: Would you rather have one great outfit that fits you perfectly that you had to wear every day for the rest of your life or a closet full of clothes that were always two sizes too small?

You can’t answer that you would lose weight or you would just explain to everyone the situation. You have to just answer on impulse and not factor in that you can make any adjustments.

I’d love to offer more examples of this game but I can’t think of any that aren’t vulgar or x-rated.

So here’s a real life one that happened to me. Well, it happened to Frank.

Would you rather have $300 and have to keep a queen size mattress and box spring propped up against the wall of one of your bedrooms for 30 days or NOT have $300 and just keep your mattress and box spring on your bed?

When a research company called Frank and asked if he would participate in this mattress study, he first refused. See, they DO bring you a new mattress and box spring to test out but they insist that you keep yours in a room in the house—not in the attic or garage. He figured I wouldn’t go for that.

But then I asked, “How much did they say they’d give you?” For $300, I’ll have mattresses all over the house! You can even call me Mattress Mack (a little humor only the Houston readers will get)!

So he called them back and here’s how we’re living now: we’ve got a pretty nice mattress on our bed that Frank has to review on a weekly basis for the next 30 days. (First impression: too firm). And in what was formerly the guest room and is now the nursery, we’ve got this:

It’s scheduled to be picked up around the day that we bring the baby home from the hospital. Boy, is he gonna get a good first impression! He’ll be like, “What kind of white trash family did I get born into?”

Don’t worry, baby. We won’t call you Bubba. But we might call you Mack.

The Sleepy Tool

2011-05-08T13:19:00.001-05:00

I’m currently working on a writing project that makes me sleepy. It’s not like I’m writing about glue or chemistry or something else really boring. There’s just something about it that makes it really hard for me to keep my eyes open when I’m working on it.

I told Frank about it and he said, “It’s like the sleepy tool.” He’s right. And here’s what he’s referring to: When I worked in advertising I had plenty of not-so-exciting projects to work on and at one point, they were all for a computer client. Any one of them could have been considered boring---a brochure on laptops, a tech guide, a landing page about a warranty—yet none of them actually made me want to lay my head down on my cubicle desk and drool.

But one project—a tool—did. We worked on lots of tools for this client but it was just this one that put me to sleep. Thus I dubbed it “the sleepy tool.” It was an internal website that sales people could use to create flyers for customers. We were always trying to work out kinks in the system and improve it. And I guess that meant we had to meet about it—a lot. So on a regular basis (weekly? bi-weekly? every day?) a few of us from the ad agency and a few clients got together at their offices to meet about this tool.

These meetings were PAINFUL. And let me reiterate that these discussions were not necessarily about the most boring topic you could think of nor were they particular long. I still don’t know what it was about this particular tool that made me SO tired! Every time we met, it was as if I hadn’t slept at all the night before. I was holding my head up, trying to look and sound interested but it would take everything I had to avoid nodding off.

If someone would even mention the name of this tool I would feel my eyelids getting heavy. I would start dreaming of my pillow. Caffeine didn’t help. Walking around didn’t help. When new hires came on board and ended up working on the project with me, I would try to warn them.

They, too, started calling it “the sleepy tool.” I wasn’t crazy. This project made everyone feel like narcoleptics. We eventually stopped calling it by it’s actual name and just started referring to it as “the sleepy tool.” Oh, don’t worry. We didn’t say this in front of the clients during the meetings; we were too busy sleeping.

Bad Sports

2011-04-25T20:26:00.001-05:00

Now I don’t claim to be an expert on sports but my dad is, so I’m sure he’ll have opinions on what I’m about to say: I disagree with how many sports are played.

Let’s start with football. For some reason at the end of the game, when one team is up and has the ball and there are just a couple of minutes left, that team is allowed to “take a knee.” This makes no sense. “Hurray! We’re winning! Let’s stop playing so the other team doesn’t have a chance to score.” When this happens, I say, “Oh, great. That team is going to sit on their knees, aren’t they?” If I were running things, I would say they need to PLAY THE GAME until the time runs out.

I often yell, “Just play the game!” during basketball too. At the end of this sport, they’re fouling each other all over the place—on purpose! And this is allowed. In fact, it’s all part of the strategy. So the last few minutes everybody’s just shoving each other and sending players to the foul line. Not only does it seem unfair, it makes for bad television.

When I told Frank I wanted to write about all the sports that I disagree with, he asked, “How do you feel about walking in baseball?”

“I don’t think I like that either!” I said. It’s like a head start. Wouldn’t the batter rather get to first base the regular way, by hitting the ball and running? I mean, who wants to watch someone miss the ball four times and then casually walk over to first base? (Even if it’s more like a jog; it’s still lame.)

My final complaint is about an event that doesn’t really even qualify as a sport: eating contests. To me, an eating contest should be full of people who LIKE TO EAT. And the winner should be determined by who can eat the most food in the way that God intended us to eat food. It would also make a lot more sense if it were filled with fat people (again, because it would show that they enjoy eating). But not only are these events usually won by 90-pound guys who have probably never eaten a Hungry Man TV Dinner, they don’t eat the food in a natural way. When they eat hot dogs, for instance, they dip them in water. Ew. They can’t be enjoying the taste of a soggy hot dog and bun. I want to see an eating contest where the people are hungry and they eat till they’re full. Is that too much to ask?

I don’t really know anything about any other sports which is probably good. But feel free to send me some information about other ones (hockey, lacrosse, ping pong) and I’m sure I could take issue with those too.

Life after DVR

2011-04-14T13:53:00.001-05:00

I knew that having a DVR would change how I watched television; I just didn’t realize it would—not to sound too dramatic—change my life as well.

For instance, people who don’t have DVRs or Tivos think that having one will make them watch MORE TV. I find that to be untrue. When shows are recorded, you only watch the shows that you like. You don’t waste time channel surfing. And best of all, you don’t waste time on commercials. (Frank thinks this is traitor-like of me since I used to work in advertising. I don’t care; I love fast fowarding through them!)

I don’t have to race home so that I don’t miss a show. I remember a friend telling me about how she and her boyfriend were out and about on a Sunday night and it was the season premiere of Sex and the City. They weren’t going to make it home in time so they actually stopped at a hotel that had free HBO, got a room and watched it! They would have saved a lot of money if they had DVRs back then.

When I was going through Catholic classes, I chose the church I went to based on the fact that they had Tuesday night classes. The one closer to my house had Thursday night classes which meant I would have to miss Friends!

There are also some side effects to having a DVR. Are they good or bad? You decide:

It’s pretty much impossible to watch TV in real time ever again: First of all, you realize that there’s never actually anything on. It’s either crap or commercials. It’s so frustrating. So I guess this side effect could be classified as “decreased attention span.”

You never know what night of the week a show is on. This is especially true if you live in Eastern Time. We don’t watch shows the night they air because they start too late. So we just go to the DVR and say, “What do we have?” That also makes us a little behind on stuff so we have to watch out for spoilers.

You want to rewind everything! When you’re watching a show on the DVR and you miss something, you just hit the little rewind button that takes it back about ten seconds. I find myself wanting to rewind the radio and even in-person conversations!

I hope you enjoyed my DVR analysis on this Thursday, a night which used to be known for “Must-See-TV.” Now Thursday doesn’t own me. I’m going out tonight and I’m not gonna miss a thing!

Couponing Gone Crazy

2011-04-07T11:28:00.001-05:00

I haven’t seen the new TLC show “Extreme Couponing” and I don’t plan on it. Still, I think, after reading an article about it and listening to general hearsay, I’m totally in a position to judge.

These people are worse—or at least just as bad—as hoarders!

I cannot relate to them AT ALL. Here are some examples I’ve read about:

One lady has a shower stall in her house filled with 450 rolls of toilet paper and 250 rolls of paper towels. Um, that’s great that you saved $22 on paper products but what happens when you need to take a shower?

Same lady bought 62 bottles of mustard. Her husband told her that he doesn’t even like mustard! So if you go through a bottle a month (which is unlikely), it would take more than FIVE years to ever eat all that mustard.

Another lady said she has so much stuff in her house that it’s like a storage shed. “I feel like the walls are closing in on me.” All for a bargain? Is it worth it?

And then there’s the TIME they spend preparing to go to the grocery store—FIVE hours, claims one lady. And in the meantime her kids are probably zombies playing video games, or better yet, tearing up all the toilet paper in that shower stall!

Then they’re excited because a $2,000 bill was only $100. Yes, that would be good news if you ACTUALLY NEEDED 90% OF THE STUFF IN YOUR CART. Oh, silly me. They don’t just use one cart. I’m sure they take up the aisles with at least two or three.

TLC execs say their stars have “figured out how to beat the system.”

That’s good news for the couponers. When they end up locked up in the insane asylum, they’re going to need skills to “beat the system.”

A PSA from Pregnant Women

2011-04-05T14:19:00.001-05:00

This may be more appropriate for the expanding blog but I figured since it didn’t feature a cute pic of Leo, I was safe to address it here. I’m pretty sure I’ve covered this topic before but apparently, not everyone remembers so I’m offering this refresher.

I present to you this list of approved and unapproved comments. I think I can safely say that I speak for all women who are pregnant, have ever been pregnant or ever plan to get pregnant:

Approved: You look so cute! Unapproved: You look so huge!

Approved: How much longer? Unapproved: There’s no way you’re going to make it to your due date.

Approved: Are you having a boy or a girl? Unapproved: Are you having twins?

Approved: Aw… Unapproved: Oh. My. God.

Approved: You don’t even look pregnant from the back! Unapproved: Even your face looks pregnant!

Approved: Congratulations! Unapproved: Was this an accident?

Approved: When are you due? Unapproved: When are you due, yesterday?

Approved: Is it okay if I touch your belly? Unapproved: (Just touching my belly).

Approved: How excited are you? And the all-time unapproved comment, which someone just asked me the other day…

How much weight have you put ON?

This list isn’t intended to scare you from talking to pregnant women. We like the attention. However, if you’re not sure what to say, simply consult this so you can stick to everything in the approved line.

The person, by the way, who asked me how much weight I’ve put on ALSO asked me if I was due yesterday. I don’t think a list on a blog is gonna be enough for her. Gotta sign her up for the weekend workshop.

Nice place to live but I wouldn’t want to visit

2011-03-27T19:26:00.001-05:00

We really like living near Old Town Roswell. It’s cute, quaint and they have fun restaurants and shops. Frank commented that he liked living near little downtowns, “you know, with boutiques.”

“You don’t like boutiques,” I said.

“But I like to live near them,” he said. “I’m not going to actually shop there.”

“And what about bistros and cafes?” I asked.

“Yes, those too. I don’t want to go to a bistro or café but I like living near them,” he said.

He compared this to living on a golf course: He doesn’t actually enjoy playing golf, but it would be nice to live on a golf course. The view is nice, they keep up the lawns and you don’t have any neighbors behind you.

We then thought of a whole list of things that we’d like to live near but wouldn’t actually use:

The mountains: they’re pretty but do we really want to climb a mountain?

A ski resort: nice scenery, lots of fun, but we probably wouldn’t even get on the lift.

Museum: says you’re in an artsy, upscale part of town. It’s not like we would get a membership though.

The Fresh Market: We actually do live right across the street from this specialty grocery store. “I like living across from Fresh Market,” said Frank. “But it’s way too expensive. I never go there.” I’m so proud of the fact that we live across from this upscale establishment that I often tell people that our neighborhood is, “You know, right across from The Fresh Market…” even though it’s also right next to a Kroger.

Now, the airport is the opposite. We like to travel and we hate having to drive far before and after trips. But live near the airport? No way.

I think Frank would rather shop at boutiques.

Orange you surprised…

2011-03-21T13:09:00.001-05:00

…that I have no idea how to eat an orange?

But if you knew that I was 25 before I tried an apple, you really wouldn’t be that surprised. We were given some fresh, authentic Florida oranges, right out of someone’s backyard.

I was pleased to receive them and planned to eat them. But when I made an attempt, I realized I didn’t know how. In fact, I don’t really remember ever eating an orange. I think maybe I’ve sucked on an orange wedge after a 5K but I’ve never just busted out an orange and done whatever it is you do to it (peel, cut?) and eaten it.

Luckily, there’s really nothing you could type into Google that someone hasn’t asked before. So when I put in “How to eat an orange” I was directed to this page from WikiHow.

It made me feel much better about my situation for two reasons:

1. It started by explaining that you shouldn’t bite right into the orange peel. Hey, I already knew that!!

2. The bottom said that this page had been viewed over 47,000 times. That’s a lot of people as orange-idiotic as me!

Now I will follow WikiHow’s directions precisely and enjoy my fresh, Florida oranges. Or I might just eat some Clementines. They’re way easier.

Nothing says wireless like…

2011-03-07T14:37:00.001-05:00

Once upon a time I was working at an ad agency and my client was a computer company. They wanted us to make a brochure about all their wireless capabilities but they didn’t like any of the photos we had chosen. They kept asking us to send more photos so we kept pulling stock images and emailing them over. No, no, no. They didn’t like any of them. We were getting desperate and cross-eyed, and I guess in the midst of all these emails, we sent over a picture that looked like this:

They didn’t say anything about this particular photo at the time but later, when I was at their offices for a meeting, I saw that one of the clients had this photo taped up to her cube with a big sign over it that said:

NOTHING SAYS WIRELESS LIKE…

They were mocking us!! They were right but still, they were mocking us!

So I couldn’t help thinking about that little incident when I stupidly looked behind our entertainment center today. This piece of furniture houses:

The surround sound system

The cable box

The Blu-ray player

The router

So how many cords and wires do you think would be required to run these four pieces of equipment? Wait, let me first tell you that the Blu-ray player and router are both called “wireless.” So you’d probably assume that the other two had at least one cord, maybe two. So that’s four wires/cords max?

For some reason, it looks like this:

I tried to count the wires but I got confused after 22. The surround sound system, come to think of it, is actually called “wireless” too but even it has several wires in the back plus wires coming from two of the speakers!

I get so frustrated when I see a picture in a Pottery Barn catalog of a home office:

I ask you, WHERE ARE THE WIRES?? Does their laptop have a super battery? Do they not need a printer? A modem? A router? An external hard drive? A mouse? I’ve never had a home office look that nice because I’ve got wires out the wazoo! And I have a laptop and wireless internet!!

So here’s what I’ve realized: there is no such thing as wireless. In fact, the more wireless things I buy, the more wires I get. I’m gonna call that computer client and tell ‘em that picture was perfect.

Calculatin’ Old School

2011-02-23T20:53:00.001-05:00

You know I don’t hang onto things forever so this is a big deal. I have had the same calculator since the seventh grade!

For 22 years, this bad boy has gotten me through homework, work assignments and bills. I just used it to figure out how long I’ve had it!

It’s a Texas Instruments Math Explorer. In seventh grade we HAD to purchase one. It was mandatory. They don’t make ‘em like this anymore. See, it’s not only solar powered, it does fractions. I can add fractions, subtract em, even divide them. It also has a backspace button so you can delete one part of an equation without having to start all over.

The T.I.M.E. (ha, just realized it has a cool acronym) has moved with me at least nine times. It has a handy case that I always keep it in. It only covers the front so the back has some issues—like remnants of gum that got stuck in it in high school and a sticker that says “I’m the type to save lives” from a blood donating experience back in the early part of this century.

Just in case my parents were a little put off by the fact that we had to purchase this special calculator, I thought it would be comforting for them to know that not only did it get me through seventh grade math and fractions, but I haven’t had to purchase another calculator since then. It’s not like this is one of many. It’s not even one of two. It is my ONLY calculator. The only one I have ever owned.

Sure, other calculators live at our house but I don’t touch them. Frank has his fancy “financial” calculator that brings back bad memories of when we were buying our first house together. We were in the realtor’s office, going over the paperwork and he was totally taking the lead on the mortgage part of it. (I was more in charge of décor.) In the middle of the discussion he ordered me to “go to the car and get my financial calculator.” After that incident I’ve never liked that financial calculator so I’ve never used it. (Or maybe I just don’t know how to use it.)

Leo also loves my calculator. He plays with it and loves to say the word “cal-cu-a-la-tor.”

I usually don’t mourn the loss of “stuff” but I would be seriously sad if I lost my calculator.

Good news. I just looked it up and while TI has replaced it with something else, they say they still have a few of my kind left. Look, it’s curvier and fancier looking!

Maybe I should go ahead and get one for Leo. You know, for when he learns fractions.

Writinggal Takes on Sunday Booze Sales

2011-02-17T15:23:00.001-05:00

When I first moved to Georgia and heard that you couldn’t buy booze on Sunday, I thought, “Well, that’s kinda nice.” I mean, I like to have my wine but I can buy it Monday-Saturday. And it just felt so Southern, like a throwback to when times were simpler—when people went to church on Sunday and the stores were closed and after church everybody just sat on their porches and drank peach tea. Ah.

But four years later I realize it’s not nice at all. It’s just plain WRONG.

It’s not wrong because I can’t live without alcohol on Sunday.

It’s not wrong because of the inconvenience it causes when I inevitably throw a bottle of wine in my grocery cart on Sunday, only to get turned away by the cashier.

It’s not even wrong because of the potential tax revenue Georgia loses by not selling alcohol on Sunday.

It’s wrong because churches shouldn’t be telling us what to do. It’s part of a little thing called “the separation of church and state.”

If the only reason Georgia isn’t selling alcohol on Sunday is because it’s a holy day, well then that is faulty reasoning.

This has always been a hot topic here but lately it’s back in the forefront again because we have a new governor who is willing to put this to a vote.

The other day there was a Yes/No debate in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, both of which I thought were weak.

The guy in favor of it played up all the money Georgia could bring in if we voted in favor of Sunday alcohol sales. His numbers were in the low millions which 1). Didn’t sound all that impressive and 2). May not even be accurate. I mean, wouldn’t the same people buy alcohol, just spread it out over seven days rather than six?

So while I agree with his “yes,” I thought he should have also mentioned the biggest argument of all—it’s WRONG!!

The “no” guy went into his religious rant, all of which isn’t valid: “Keep Sunday sacred,” etc. To that I say, “If you want Sunday to be sacred, don’t buy alcohol. Don’t go shopping. Just go to church. But don’t tell the rest of us, much less the government, that they have to do it too.”

He also made this argument that anti-Sunday-alcohol people love to make: Aren’t six days a week enough days to buy alcohol?

Yes. In fact, six days are really enough to buy lots of things. Take underwear, for instance. If we couldn’t buy underwear on Sunday, we could certainly wait until Monday. So why not limit the days that we can buy underwear?

Because that would be wrong. So is limiting the days we can buy alcohol.

It’s a free country. We have freedom of speech, freedom of religion and I think the state of Georgia needs to give us back our freedom to go to church on Sunday and pick up a six pack on the way home.

Trash in Plain Sight

2011-02-10T14:25:00.001-05:00

You’ve got trash all over you house, though you may not realize it. (Yes, this is another one of my de-cluttering lessons.) There are two rules to keeping a clutter-free house:

1. Constantly get rid of stuff

2. Don’t let stuff in

Today I’m going to focus on the first one—getting rid of stuff. I’ve said this before but I can’t stress it enough: just about anything is potential trash. And if it pains you to throw things away, well, you might need focus more on #2.

“But why throw something away when I could donate it?” you ask. “After all, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” Some things can and should be donated: gently worn clothes, furniture that is in decent shape, appliances that still work. And that’s about where it ends. When you donate crap that nobody wants, all you’re doing is bogging down the systems for good places like the Salvation Army and Goodwill. And if it’s your “trash,” what are the chances it’s someone else’s “treasure?”

Here, I’m going to give you some examples of things that can be thrown away, things that you thought you weren’t allowed to dump.

Mugs: The other day a friend gave me a really cool mug for my birthday. I enjoy drinking tea and hot cocoa. I truly appreciated this mug and wanted to keep it. But when I went to put it away in the cabinet I realized that I had way more mugs than I could ever use. I surveyed my mug collection and threw out two old ones. They weren’t broken or even ugly. I just didn’t need them. Now I have my new, pretty mug and two fewer mugs. (When you can replace two things with one, ah, that’s such a rush!)

DVDs: We have a Netflix account. We get movies in the mail just about every week and now we can stream movies from the internet. Do I really need to own any movies? I can’t think of one movie that I want to watch enough times that it’s worth it for me to own. So I threw out the three movies that we did own. Betcha didn’t know you could do that, huh? I would throw out CDs if Frank would let me.

Kitchen utensils: I had a good food chopper from Pampered Chef that’s served me well for about five years. It’s the manual kind but it has fewer parts than my food processor so I use it for small jobs. Then I received an even cooler food chopper for my birthday. I think 99% of people would have kept the Pampered Chef one and the new one. Not me. I said Buh-bye to the PC one cause really, if I have this new and improved one, when am I ever going to use that again?

Goodie bags from kids’ birthday parties: I just found one buried in our craft box from a b-day party a few months back. It’s full of junk from the Dollar Store. Sure, Leo might have been mildly amused by a few of the trinkets in there but where am I supposed to put them? Right back in the craft box? No way. I put the whole thing in the trash, where it belongs! (Let me just add that I, too, am guilty of dispensing Dollar Store toys to kids at Leo’s birthday parties but you can feel free to throw it all out.)

Socks/underwear: Socks and underwear are not expensive, especially if you get each in packs from Target. So update them every now and then. But you gotta throw the old ones away. Remember it’s “Out with the old, in with the new” not “Hang onto the old forever, in with the new.”

This weekend we are going to clean out a closet. I’m giddy with excitement. Frank just better not stand in the way of me and the trash!

My Facebook Philosophy

2011-02-03T15:01:00.001-05:00

I am officially the last person in America to see the Social Network. But I did finally see it and I loved it. You see, I’ve come a long way since when I first started on Facebook with my twelve friends, I’m on it every day: posting, checking statuses, sending messages, even using it to promote my other blog, Workout of the Week.

Since I’m such an FB-expert now--people in the know write it as FB—I really enjoyed seeing this somewhat accurate account of how it all got started. After watching it I recalled how someone once posed the question: Since it started out as a college networking tool and now it’s for the masses, why are the college kids still on it?

Good question. I mean, if a club opened up that was immediately popular with college kids, would they stick around if a bunch of stay-at-home moms started hitting the dance floor? Or what if those college kids started wearing their hats sideways and then the senior citizens said, “That’s cool. We’re gonna wear our hats sideways too.” Wouldn’t those college kids turn their hats back to the front?

But with Facebook, the college kids are hanging in there. They don’t care that we moms are on there talking about potty training; computer nerds are on there with all their hacking lingo; grandmas are on there posting pics; polticians are on there spouting their agendas; even dogs are there. Yes, I’m friends with a dog!

Here’s why they’re still there: They don’t see the rest of us. At the club they’d have to see us moms dancing to Ke$ha. Yuck! Or on the street, they’d see gramps with his hat sideways. But on Facebook, they can stay in their own little microcosm. They don’t have to accept Uncle Rodney’s friend request. And because they don’t see us, they still think it’s cool.

Sure, Facebook is just as cliquish as the real world. It’s just that the cliques are bigger and you don’t have to see the other groups. And college kids, you should be grateful for that because this mom is in potty training mode this week.

Elsa

2011-01-26T14:59:00.001-05:00

I don’t know how to say this without sounding like I’m bragging so I’ll just come right out and say it: I have the coolest name.

Really, it’s not bragging because I didn’t choose my name; my parents did. (But if we go with that theory that’s like saying, “I’m gorgeous but I’m not bragging because it’s just genetics.”)

The great thing about Elsa is that it’s unusual but not too unusual. You hardly ever run into another Elsa yet it’s spelled just like it sounds and there’s no confusion about the pronunciation. (Well, of course, some people think I’m saying Allison, Elisa or Elsie but that comes with any name.)

I started thinking about this when a friend told me that another friend of hers was considering naming her unborn child Elsa. I said, “Oh, it needs to make a comeback! Well, actually it’s never been popular so I guess it wouldn’t really be a comeback.”

I’m happy that it hasn’t become popular but, on the other hand, I can’t believe it either. Why hasn’t it caught on? I searched it on the Social Security Administration and last year it was the 691st most popular name. Most years it’s in the 700s, 800s or even 900s. Elsa’s best showing was 1915 when it was ranked 392.

When you have a cool name like Elsa, you stand out. People remember you. Another fun thing is that people comment on it. I’d say at least 70% of the time that I introduce myself, the person says, “That’s a pretty name.” How nice is that?

The other day I met a woman who got really excited when I told her my name. “Oh my gosh,” she said, “That’s my mother’s name! I hardly ever meet anyone named Elsa!” She looked like she was gonna cry. Elsa has that effect on people.

So to the friend of the friend who’s thinking of naming her baby Elsa, this Elsa says you should do it. She’ll be unique and special (although she might have a tendency to brag).

The beast that attacked my forks

2011-01-21T17:59:00.001-05:00

On Monday we returned from a trip and the cleaning lady had been here. I already love coming home to a clean house but coming home to a clean house after traveling is awesome! She did a wonderful job and of course I love those shapes she makes out of the toilet paper.

I also noticed that the pantry smelled really clean—like someone had dumped a bunch of dryer sheets in there. Frank noticed it too and also recognized the smell as dryer-sheet fresh. We weren’t sure how she did that but we didn’t really mind it.

The next day I was eating breakfast and I thought my food tasted weird. After some investigating I realized my fork had the same smell as the pantry! I sniffed the rest of the forks in the drawer and they had the same scent. What did this woman do to our forks?

It gets weirder. The spoons, knives and little forks didn’t smell like dryer sheets even though they were in the same drawer as the forks.

So I took all the forks out and put them in the dishwasher. When they came out, the smell was gone.

Oh, but the story continues.

I put the forks back in the drawer and hours later, when I went to use one again, it had the smell. And what’s more, they ALL had it. But again, not the other silverware.

I knew then we were definitely dealing the beast, like the one on Seinfeld that started with a valet and got in Jerry’s car and Elaine’s hair and NOTHING they did would scare the smell away.

Now at least my beast isn’t a really bad smell; it’s just not something you want to taste.

So I figured maybe the cleaning lady wiped down the fork section of the silverware separator with something. I removed all the silverware from the separator and soaked it in soap and water in the sink.

Afterwards it smelled fine and the forks seemed free from the beast after airing out on the counter. But after I put them back in the drawer and eventually tried to use one, you guessed it—the BEAST!!

Oh, how I wish this blog was scratch and sniff so you could smell this not-really-bad-but-weird smell! And if anyone knows how to say “Hey, did you put some weird smelling cleaner in the fork section of my silverware drawer and also in my pantry?” in Portuguese, let me know.

Writinggal Reports

2011-01-18T14:41:00.001-05:00

Consumer Reports is great if you need reviews on tangible products. But what if you want the scoop on customer service? That’s when you come to Writinggal Reports. I don’t know if it’s me (approaching my mid-30s and getting crotchety) or them (retail and service workers just sucking in general) but I have become a customer service stickler. Here, I give you a sample of the good and the oh, so, very bad:

Buy Buy Baby: ***** (That’s five out of five for customer service) This is a new entry into the baby gear market, currently dominated by Babies R Us. Buy Buy Baby, by the way, is owned by another BBB great—Bed, Bath and Beyond. At Babies R Us, the customer service is hit or miss. Sometimes they’re helpful, sometimes they’re not. And in these types of stores you really need help, especially if you’re wandering around with a registry.

At Buy Buy Baby, it’s almost comical how much they help you. When I printed out the registry list, one employee told me, “This yellow paper is like the Bible. If someone sees you holding it, they’re going to ask to help you.” And baby, did they ever! In every single department, an employee asked if I needed help. Sometimes I did and I was glad for their expertise. When I went to check out, the guy behind the register noticed I had gotten the wrong registry item and ran back to get the right one for me!

So now I’m saying, “Bye Bye” (or “Buy Buy”) to Babies R Us.

Kroger: * I get it, Kroger. You want to hire people who may not be able to get jobs elsewhere. That’s very noble of you. The thing is, sometimes I can’t tell who legitimately has a learning/communication/interaction issue and who is just an idiot. Take this lady who was bagging my groceries the other day. I handed her all my bags, including the insulated one. I told her, “Don’t feel like you have to put the cold stuff in that bag. You can just put anything in any bag cause I’m just going right home.” Her response? NOTHING. She didn’t respond at all. So I said, “You know what I mean? I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to bother separating out the cold stuff.” Again, NOTHING. “Ya know what I mean?” I asked one more time. “Yes, ma’am,” she finally said. Then I look like the b*t%h because it’s like I was trying to get her to say “Yes, ma’am.” I just wanted SOME response. I mean, how can you not say anything? Not even “uh-huh.” I was trying to save her some trouble! And as we know, that’s not my first bad experience with Kroger.

Delta Airlines: ***** When we had all the snow in Atlanta last week I called Delta to see if I could move my flight to the next day. The automated voice told me that there would be a long wait, and if I preferred, I could punch in my number and they would call me back. They even gave me a time: 12-18 minutes. Brilliant! I hung up, went about my business and they called me back within that time. It saved me the trouble of being attached to a phone and getting angry as every minute ticked by. To make matters better, the girl on the phone had a brain and was so helpful. She moved my flight, found seats for Frank, Leo and me to all sit together, and didn’t charge me a thing!

Target: * I’m in the dairy section today and THREE target employees were stocking food as I maneuvered around them in my quest for pimento cheese. I kept thinking one of them would ask if I needed help finding anything. They didn’t. So I asked one of them. She then turned to one of the other stockers and asked him if he knew where the pimento cheese was. He then turned to the third and asked her. She looked for a second and then picked up a block of pepper jack. “No, that’s not pimento cheese,” I said. “I would think it would be right here,” I said and went over to another area of dairy to look, thinking at least one would follow to help me. They didn’t. I said, “Um, well that’s okay,” and they just kept on stocking. Then I said really enthusiastically (and sarcastically), “Thanks so much for all your help!!” They couldn’t have been less helpful unless they didn’t respond at all like the Kroger Krazy. A few weeks ago I had a weird cashier at Target who suddenly said, “I HATE YOU!” while scanning my items. Startled, I said, “Huh?” and then realized she was talking across me to another cashier. What an odd time to have that discussion. Throughout my checkout process, she never offered any pleasantries like, “Hi, how are you doing? Did you find everything okay?” And when I was picking up my bag to go she still didn’t say anything so I said to her, “Thanks! I WILL have a nice day!!”

There you have it. The first round of Writinggal Reports. I’ll continue to serve the public, shopping and judging retail and service workers. And don’t worry, this won’t take away from me being a watch dog for the healthcare industry. They’re still on my radar too. Nobody is safe from Writinggal Reports.

The Ottoman Empire

2011-01-08T20:43:00.001-05:00

Who was the genius who thought of turning regular old space hogger ottomans into storage devices? It’s brilliant. Every time I look at this “toy box” in Leo’s playroom I think, “That is one of the best purchases I’ve ever made.” Now allow me to blog the praises of the storage ottoman:

It looks sleek, classy.

It works in any room.

It’s versatile: a toy box, a holder of bed linens, a coffee table, a place to rest your feet.

It was cheap but it doesn’t look cheap.

It holds stuff.

It hides stuff.

Look at all the toys it holds!

I also really like the smaller, square ones that I see in catalogues. As they say in the descriptions, they’re not only good for storage, but they could also be used for extra seating. (Maybe that would pass for seating in a NYC apartment but down here people prefer seats with backs. Still, it’s nice to have in a pinch.) Look at all those cute little storage ottomans!

And you’ll notice that they even have the awesome extra feature of a tray—a tray! Is there anything these things aren’t good for? Storage, seating, putting your feet up and now holding your cocktail?

I’m really fascinated by anything that can hold/hide stuff. We have this stool in our half bath that has storage and I put Clorox wipes in it. Just today, when I was in the bathroom and wanted to do a quick cleaning and opened the stool to get out the wipes, I thought, “That is one of the best purchases I’ve ever made.”

Oops, sorry toy storage ottoman. Love you too!

Puking up Christmas

2011-01-02T16:38:00.001-05:00

You know that feeling when you’re really hungry and you can’t imagine being full? You’re waiting for your food at a restaurant and you think, “I’m going to eat every bite of it and then, if I’m still hungry, which I’m sure I will be, I’ll ask my dining companions if they plan to finish their food. If they won’t let me have any, I’ll order more food. I’ll just eat and eat and I’ll never be full!”

And then you start to eat and you think, “This is awesome! But I’m still hungry. I’ll keep eating.” And you eat and eat and finally, you’re full.

Then you realized you ate too much. You’re so full that you want to puke. You look at your empty plate in disgust. “How could I have ever been hungry? I’m so full! I can’t even look at another potato. Don’t even say the word potato, please. I can’t believe I was so hungry! I’ll never eat again!”

Do you ever feel that way?

That is exactly how I feel about Christmas.

Right after Halloween, I thought, “Oh, goodie! It’s almost time for Christmas! There’s Christmas stuff in the stores. When will the easy listening station start playing all-Christmas-all-the-time?”

By Thanksgiving I was super hungry for Christmas. I wanted to get out the decorations before but I held myself back. This year I don’t think we decorated until December 1st. “Oh, I wish Christmas was longer!” I thought. “I’m not going to be ready to take down the decorations January 1st.”

Oh, but I was. I couldn’t get that garland, tree and nativity scene out of here fast enough. We packed it up today and I thought, “Ew, Christmas. How could I ever have been excited about it? I’m ready to get back to what the church calls ‘ordinary time.’” Of course, after we packed it up we keep finding Christmas-ish things. “Yuck! I can’t even look at that glass gingerbread house. Makes me want to puke!”

I’m so grateful the easy listening station went back to ordinary music too.

I did see Valentine’s Day stuff in the store today. So once I puke up Christmas, I’ll be hungry for big hearts filled with assorted mystery candies.

Panic at the Pizzeria

2010-12-30T20:48:00.001-05:00

Last night Frank and I went to this pizza place that has lots of buzz around it, Antico Pizza Napoletana. Apparently it used to be just a simple place for take-out but soon people started just hanging out and eating their pizza. So the owner set up a few tables—one where you just stand around and then a few more in the kitchen.

When we walked in we were immediately confused. Do we stand in this line or that one? How do we know what pizza to order when it’s all in Italian? And were we supposed to bring our own booze?

We ended up ordering the lasagna pizza because that was an Italian word we knew. When we figured out that you can’t get booze, Frank took off down the street to get a tall boy. Classy.

While Frank was on his beer run, I waited in a line in the kitchen/eating area for our pizza. It was so crowded that patrons were forced to sit with strangers. The rest of us all stood in a line, drooling at others’ pizza and their coveted table spots.

You could see the guys making the pizza, throwing dough into the air and all. Every now and then one of them would come out with a couple of huge baking sheets with pizzas on them and scream out a number: “289!! 289!!”

My fear was that he would shout out my number and I would have nowhere to sit! I would be wandering around this crowded kitchen with a giant, hot baking sheet.

Luckily, Frank got back right before our number was called. When the guy started yelling, “294!! 294!” I panicked. “That’s us!” I told Frank. “But we have nowhere to sit!” I immediately starting scurrying around the room, looking for an empty spot. They were just cleaning off an area of one table so I quickly sat and gestured to Frank. A lady said, “You can’t sit here! It’s reserved!” This didn’t seem to me like the kind of place where you could reserve tables so I said, “Really? Reserved?” She said, “You have to have eight people.” I ran to another spot. “This is taken!” someone told me. I found Frank wandering around with the baking sheet and I told him, “I hate it!! I feel like the new kid at school and I’m in the cafeteria and I have no one to sit with!”

Luckily, I’ve never been the new kid but I’ve witnessed new kids come into my school and I’ve seen it in movies. If you were ever a new kid, my hat is off to you. That experience will give you some thick skin.

Finally, someone saw us heading their way with our baking sheet and since she didn’t have a pizza yet, she gave up her seat at this random little counter for us. I was grateful to have a place to sit although I wouldn’t have minded standing, as long as there was a place to set the pizza.

As I devoured the awesome lasagna pizza, Frank kept making nerdy business comments: “Their overhead must be so low! I bet their margins are through the roof!”

The pizza was so delicious we’ll have to go back. And next time will be better cause we’ll be the cool kids.

A Merry Majority

2010-12-23T07:14:00.001-05:00

Have you noticed that it’s okay to say “Merry Christmas” while out in public these days? I also see Christmas trees in retail establishments and Santa out in full force. Even Disney World wasn’t afraid to Christmas it up.

There was a period from about 2005-2008 (totally just basing those years on a gut feeling) where you were shunned for saying “Merry Christmas.” We had to say “Happy Holidays.”

I’m pleased about this shift back to Merry Christmas, but not for the same reason that most pro-Christmas people are. You see, a lot of folks think we should say “Merry Christmas” because of things like “Jesus is our savior” or “The Christians are right and everyone else is wrong.”

My philosophy has nothing to do with whether Christianity is right or wrong or whether another religion is right or wrong. In fact, I think that is an invalid argument. Everyone will never agree on a religion and it’s pointless (and not even beneficial) to try to make people believe the same thing.

I simply think we should be able to say “Merry Christmas” because of the old “Majority Rules” theory. Over 80% of Americans are Christian, and most of them probably celebrate Christmas. So why should we go around saying “Happy Holidays” just so as not to offend less than 20% of the population?

And even if you happen to catch someone who does not celebrate Christmas, are they truly offended? Or do they just think they’re supposed to be? I mean, Christmas is a nice holiday. It’s about only good things. So someone telling you “Merry Christmas” is not putting a curse on you.

I think this also falls under the “When in Rome” principle. I mean, if I were in Mexico on Cinco de Mayo and someone said, “Happy Cinco de Mayo” I wouldn’t get all offended: “Hey, I’m American. I don’t celebrate Mexico’s independence from Spain. I celebrate America’s independence which is in a couple of months. It’s around the same time so you should say ‘Happy Independence Day’ to me instead.”

No, instead I’d say, “Happy Cinco de Mayo to you too! Let’s have a margarita!” I wouldn’t be offended. I’d think, “Most people here celebrate Cinco de Mayo.” And even if I didn’t want to join in the celebrations, I’d understand that the person wishing me a “Happy Cinco de Mayo” was just wishing me well.

I’m glad to see we’re not tip-toeing around the obvious anymore. So I guess there’s nothing else to say but “MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

Kroger Krazies

2010-12-14T11:54:00.001-05:00

A couple of years ago I gave you all an inside look into training day at the Kroger by my house. I mistakenly thought that the practice of hiring wacko grocery store workers was specific to this Kroger location. Now I know that not only are their “Kroger Krazies” at other locations, there are weirdos at other grocery stores too, like Publix. The whole thing reminds me of this exchange from the movie “Reality Bites.”

Lelaina’s Mom: Why don't you get a job at the BurgerRama? They'll hire you! My Lord, I saw on the TV - they had this little retarded boy working the register.

Lelaina: Because I'm not retarded, Mom. I was the valedictorian of my University!

Lelaina’s dad: Well you don’t have to put that on your application.

I think these grocery stores have some sort of crazy quota to fill. Here is my latest encounter that took place at a Kroger about two miles away from my house:

I go to check out and the manager is my cashier. He engages me in what starts out to be a normal conversation about Christmas. He asks if Leo is excited, etc. He then starts telling me about some of the Christmas traditions in his family, how his kid really likes He-Man and how excited he was one year to get this He-Man toy. Blah blah blah, it’s a long story about how they surprised him. I guess I acted too interested because…

After I paid and all my bags were loaded and I was about to leave (impatient two-year-old in cart, mind you), the manager launches into another tale of Christmas past, this one about how one year they played a trick on the poor kid and got him a Pippy Longstocking doll for Christmas. Blah blah blah, I just stare at him in shock because 1). this just sounds cruel and 2). I can’t believe he’s still talking to me when I’m DONE checking out. That’s not how this relationship works! I am okay with cashier-customer small talk while I have to wait for you to ring up/bag my groceries. But I am not okay with having to listen to your stories beyond that. That’s a universal understanding, right?

Now the whole time this is going on there’s this deceptively-normal-looking bagger loading my groceries. But while I’m listening to the He-Man story, this bagger is muttering angrily to himself. He then looks up and offers to take my bags out to my car. Normally I would refuse but the problem was, he had loaded them into a new shopping cart and I had Leo in the original cart. So my choices were:

1. Remove two-year-old from cart and wrestle him into a new cart against his will

2. Let muttering psycho-path push the cart full of groceries out to the car.

I chose the latter which was a mistake. As we walk out to the car, the mutterer stops muttering and talks out loud to me: “Have you seen any good movies lately?” to which I reply no, hoping to end the conversation.

He then goes into a monologue about his hatred for Harry Potter: “To me, all it is is a cross between Lord of the Rings and The Brady Bunch! I’m serious! I tell my mom that all the time.” (He’s like 45, by the way, so I’m pretty sure he lives in the basement of his mom’s house.)

When he gets to the part about “And the author, she doesn’t even believe in Jesus!” I knew I should have chosen to wrestle Leo into the other cart. As he loads the groceries he goes back to angry muttering, this time I caught a few utterances of “Harry Potter” and “Jesus.” While talking to him was scary, listening to his maddening muttering was even scarier! I kind of can’t believe the too-long-storyteller manager even let him walk me out to my car.

I later talked to a friend who I had bumped into at that Kroger that day and asked if she knew muttering man. “Oh yes,” she said. “Don’t get him started about movies. He’s like Rain Man about them.” Hey, for the record, I didn’t start it!

And in other grocery-store-crazy updates, this one comes from a friend who had a run-in at Publix. Let this be a lesson to you: When they ask, “Did you find everything okay?” just say “YES.”

“Did you find everything okay?”
”Actually, I couldn’t find those pasta shells made by Ronzini.”
”Huh?”

“And I couldn’t find the Publix brand one either. I guess you’re all out. It’s no big deal. I’m just going to have to go to Kroger.”

“What were you looking for? Pasta?”

“Yes, those big pasta shells. It’s okay.”

“Pasta?”

“Yes, but you were out. I’ll just go somewhere else.”

“What was the brand you were looking for?”

“Nevermind. They weren’t there.”

“Shells?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Pasta?”

“Yes, but that’s okay.”

“You like pasta?”

And so on and so on…

Then the poor girl had to go to Kroger too. That’s just too many Krazies for one day.

The best bake is no bake

2010-12-12T21:01:00.001-05:00

It’s the day of my annual cookie exchange and boy, have I come a long way since the Rolo cookie disaster of 2005 now know that you can’t substitute Splenda for sugar. You can’t use Swiss Miss cocoa instead of baking cocoa. You can change out…well, anything! Baking is exact. It’s like science. And I was always bad at science.

I’ve had some successful baking ventures since then. I mean, there were the drop cookies (the ones you get out of the tube and just drop onto the cookie sheet) that earned me a “ten” from Frank. And I’ve made some muffins and brownies that have turned out okay. Actually, I’m not sure I’ve ever made a good brownie. I always screw up the ones on the edge, and that makes up a large percentage of the brownies in an 8 x 8 pan.

So for this year’s cookie exchange (my fourth), I went with a recipe from my sis-in-law, Laura. They’re called Chocolate Peanut Butter No Bake Cookies. When she said “no bake” I was like, “Sign me up!”

I just threw a bunch of stuff in a pot, heated it up and then dropped the mix on wax paper. Leo even helped me! That’s how easy they are! And they taste awesome.

They didn’t win top prize (that went to Chantal’s chocolate, marshmallow mint creations). But then again, I couldn’t really win since I was hosting. Yes, we’ll blame it on that.

Frank summed them up best: “They taste better than they look.”

Holiday Hoarding

2010-12-02T07:44:00.002-05:00

We’re not the Griswolds but by my standards, our house usually looks like it threw up Christmas this time of year. I don’t know what it is about Christmas—maybe it’s the temporaryness of it, the shiny things, the green and red color scheme—but it turns me into a hoarder!

I have no problem accepting or buying anything relating to Christmas decorating. (This is also true about dish towels. Last year Claire gave me a Christmas dish towel which is the PERFECT gift!)

Every inch of the house is covered in Christmas. There’s a bowl full of ornaments on the dining room table, a nativity scene on the entertainment center, a little Santa light on an end table, garland strung everywhere and of course, the tree. I’ve even got stuff on the walls, in the kitchen and in the half bath. I mean, you can’t even go to the bathroom in my house without being reminded that it’s Christmas.

Right now I’m in the market for a plate that says “Cookies for Santa.” Seriously? The fat dude really doesn’t need cookies much less a special plate. I’ve got tons of plates! But I want one. Because at Christmas, I’m a hoarder. And that’s a total hoarder thing to do—to buy something you don’t need and don’t have room for.

My house is not quite complete with all the Christmas craziness yet. There are still more boxes in the attic—yes, in the attic, a place I normally try to keep clear of clutter! I’ll post pics so you can see my cluttered Christmas craziness. Even Santa says, “My God, where is she going to put all this stuff when Christmas is over? What a hoarder!”

Abby strikes again

2010-11-16T10:55:00.001-05:00

I’ve already complained about how inept I think Dear Abby is. Her answers are often unhelpful, ridiculous or just plain wrong. And even though I don’t agree with her answers 90% of the time, could she just stick to printing problems and answers rather than PSAs? I can’t tell you how bummed I am when I open up the paper, all excited to read about someone’s weird problem (to make me feel better about my own life), and there’s an entire column devoted to “Make sure you have your fire alarms checked” or “The importance of smiling with your teeth.”

But back to her bad advice. As I said in my last Abs rant, I hate it when someone asks her how they can broach a sensitive subject with a friend or family member and she tells them to just basically be rude. Her advice would be great if the advice-seeker didn’t want to continue having a relationship with the person. But if they’re trying to tactfully tell them something without dissolving all ties, they have to choose their words carefully. Abby always just has them say exactly what they said to her. For example, she pretty much ruined the life of a teenager with her advice below:

DEAR ABBY: I'm a junior in high school and taking multiple AP classes. With all the homework we're assigned, I sometimes need to use lunchtime to finish assignments. My problem is my friends follow me into the school library and talk to me while I'm working. Their constant chatter is distracting and prevents me from concentrating on my assignments.

I don't neglect my friends. I spend hours outside of school with them every week. But I'd rather be left alone when I'm trying to work. My friends don't understand that I'm more focused on academics and long-term goals than my short-term social life.

How can I politely get them to leave me alone when I'm working? -- FOCUSED ON MY GOALS IN LOS ANGELES

DEAR FOCUSED ON YOUR GOALS: If you haven't told your friends plainly how you feel and clearly drawn a line, you shouldn't blame them for being clueless when they cross it. Tell them you need to concentrate when you're in the library and that they are creating a problem for you. Not only will you be helping yourself, you'll be doing a favor for other students who are trying to study and who are also being distracted.

Is this how Abby thinks this will go down?

Focused girl (who I just assume is a girl): “You know what guys? I have to tell you something. I really need to concentrate when I’m in the library and you guys being here is creating a problem for me.”

Friends: “Oh, okay. We didn’t realize that; we’re so sorry! We’ll go to the cafeteria and just hang out with you after school.”

Nope. It went more like this:

Focused girl: “You know what guys? I have to tell you something. I really need to concentrate when I’m in the library and you guys being here is creating a problem for me.”

Friends: We’re creating a problem for you? We thought we were your friends but apparently we’re just problems! I guess you think you’re the only one who has to study, huh? We’re just some idiots who aren’t as smart as you? Well, you can have your library! You can just hang out in the library on the weekends while we go cow tipping without you.

Except they live in L.A. so they probably have better things to do than go cow tipping. But the point is, here is a girl who is lucky enough to be smart and popular and now she’s just going to be smart. Now where is that going to get her? Thanks a lot, Dear Abby.

This Patient has lost her Patience

2010-11-12T14:04:00.001-05:00

Did you hear the straw break on the camel’s back today? It happened at my dentist’s office:

I came in at 11:45 for an 11:50 appointment. I needed to leave by 12:50 to pick up Leo at 1:00 (which I told them when I made the appointment).

At 12:15 I was still waiting. I asked the receptionist how much longer it will be. “If it’s going to be 15 more minutes then I probably just need to leave because I don’t think she can clean my teeth in 20 minutes.”

She goes back to ask the hygienist who says in a rude voice, “When I’m done with this patient she’ll be next.” I was steamed. I didn’t ask because I was impatient. I asked because I legitimately needed to know. Why wait another 15-20 if I couldn’t get in that day anyway?

Another ten goes by and the hygienist finally calls me back (with no apology for the wait). I said, “I don’t have a lot of time,” and she said, “You might want to reschedule then.” I said that yes, yes I would and she DARES to say, “And you might want to allow more than an hour. I mean, we ARE a DOCTOR’S office!”

I know that comment is supposed to mean, “Unexpected things come up and you might have to wait.”

But what I think it means is “We, the medical industry, believe we don’t have a responsibility to be on time. We overbook appointments and our patients just EXPECT to wait. We have never ever seen a patient at their scheduled appointment time and we never will.”

I mean, people who work in doctors’ offices have advanced degrees. Surely, there is someone in each practice who could develop a scheduling system that actually works. (My husband, Frank, could easily build one of his fancy models in Microsoft Access that determines the optimal amount of time in between appointments for each doctor’s office.)

The other day I called my regular doctor’s office’s nurses line to ask a question, which I thought was pretty timely. They didn’t call me back. The next day I followed up and finally, at the end of the day they called me back. I asked why it takes so long to return a call and the nurse said, “Our volume of calls is so large that—“

“THEN YOU NEED TO STAFF APPROPRIATELY!!” I told her.

To me, it’s really that simple. And if your patients are ALWAYS kept waiting because you ALWAYS have emergencies come up, then you need to build in time for emergencies.

It reminds me of this young, right-out-college girl I once worked with. She was late every single day and every single day she had an excuse: “My roommate’s car broke down so I had to take her to work” or “My dog threw up on my outfit so I had to change.” She wasn’t lying; these things really happened to her. I told her, “It seems like you have a lot of things happen to you in the morning. I think you should build in time for these situations and aim to leave about 30 minutes earlier.”

That’s what the doctor’s offices should do!! Build in time for the patient who asks way too many questions. Build in time for the guy who needs an emergency root canal. And definitely build in time for the crazy patient who’s going to launch into a monologue about how inefficient your appointment scheduling system is.

But no longer will I let you get by with, “I mean, we ARE a DOCTOR’s office!” To that I say, “Well, I AM WRITINGGAL!”

Get your hands out of my food!

2010-11-08T14:24:00.001-05:00

When I used to work in advertising, I was assigned to a popular bread account. This particular bread’s claim to fame was that their product was “hand-twisted.” Everything from their billboard ads to to their brochures had to say “hand-twisted.” When you took a tour of their facilities, you even saw these hand-twisters, people who spent all day twisting dough with their hands.

And for some reason, that was supposed to be appetizing.

I thought of those hand-twisters yesterday when Frank said, “This beer says it was ‘handcrafted.’ Why do I want someone’s hands in my beer?”

I see how something being made by hands is appealing for items like furniture, jewelry and clothing. But I don’t get it when it comes to food and beverages. Handmade doughnuts? Handcrafted wine? I mean, it’s bad enough that you may have used your feet to stomp the grapes for the wine. Now your hands are involved too?

Chick-Fil-a likes to brag that their milkshakes are hand-spun. Um, it’s okay to use a blender. Thanks.

I hope at least that they’re spun by human hands and not those cows that are always hanging around.

Grass is always greener

2010-11-03T07:07:00.001-05:00

This is the only “BEFORE” picture I could find of the grass in our backyard. It’s Leo’s birthday weekend—May of this year. The grass in our backyard should have been green!

Instead, we barely had any. I would look out the window and say, “Our backyard makes me sad.”

Leo always wants to go back there because that’s where the basketball net and swing are. But it’s so depressing to trek through the sandy, rocky, sometimes muddy yard to retrieve basketballs.

Finally, we couldn’t take it anymore. We called in a specialist who said it would cost $1,300 to make our lawn look good. We needed fescue sod, he said.

We almost just accepted that and then luckily, we found Cesar. Cesar said we could do fescue seed (rather than sod) for more like $600. We liked the sound of that.

Cesar and his team planted the seed and for a couple of weeks we just saw a bunch of straw in the backyard. And then one day…

GRASS! TONS OF BRIGHT GREEN GRASS!

We are so happy with our new lawn! Cesar says we can’t walk on it for a few more weeks but that’s okay with us. We just like looking at it from the back window. “Our grass makes me happy,” we now say.

I can’t wait to roll around in it or better yet, chase after basketballs.

For the Love of Facebook

2010-10-26T14:29:00.001-05:00

A while back I talked about my different Facebook pet peeves—the people who give broad invitations to go out (anyone want to go to happy hour?), people who use FB to promote their pyramid schemes and people who think any of us care what they’re doing on Farmville.

I realize now I left off a really important one: People who use Facebook to have a relationship. Some examples with fake names:

Sally Smithers posts on Jason Smithers wall: I love you, honey! You’re the best husband in the world!

Jason Smithers comment: No, you are the best wife in the world!

Sally Smithers comment: No, you are the best, ya cutie!

Jason Smithers comment: No, you are, you pumpkin butt!

Sally Smithers comment: Okay, fine. It’s a tie, my dimpley-do!

Carl Mitchell to girlfriend, Missy Hartwell: I hope you have a day as beautiful as you are, honey!

Jan Salsbury (I’m getting really creative with these fake names!) to her husband, Tony: Thanks for the wonderful meal tonight, Tony! You are the best husband in the world!

Jason Smithers comment: No, I am the best husband in the world!

I’m all in favor of love but do you really need to play it out on Facebook? Even a simple “I love you,” did you really have to write it on your beloved’s wall? Or could you have put that in an email? You might say, “Why should I hide my love? I want to shout it to the world!” That’s my point. Are you trying to tell everyone or just that person? It all seems a little show-offy to me. Kind of Tom-Cruise-Couch-Jumping, don’t ya think? In fact, I’d be willing to bet you’re more affectionate on Facebook than in real life. Soon they’ll have to add “virtual love” to the Five Love Languages and change it to the Six Love Languages.

She says: “I really prefer to show my love on social networking sites. I also like tweeting about it.”

He says: “But I prefer quality time!”

She says: “Hey, virtual love is my love language! Whaddya gonna do? If you want to know how much I love you, check your Facebook wall.”

Impatience runs in the family

2010-10-21T14:13:00.001-05:00

My grandma had no patience for picky eaters, even if they weren’t picky by choice. If she were serving a meal and somebody said, “No, thank you, I can’t eat those cheese grits, I’m allergic to dairy.” She would say, “What? You don’t like grits? You haven’t even tried ‘em!” And the person would say, “No, it’s not that I don’t like them. I love them. I’m just allergic.” And again she would scoff at them. And forget being on a diet. That’s simply not allowed.

Sure, that’s ridiculous (on grandma’s part) but I find myself losing patience too. For me, it’s sick people, I—knock on this synthetic wood that my desk is made out of—rarely get sick. So when people give me the excuse that they’re under the weather, I get a little annoyed. Isn’t that awful? I get even more annoyed when they start describing their sickness: “I’ve had a cough for a few days and then last night, I woke up at 3am and my nose was stuffy and I had to put four pillows under my head and then the snot drained down—“

And that’s where I stop listening.

Can you just say “I’m sick” and leave it at that? I don’t wanna hear your belly aching. And if my grandma were here, you’d still have to eat a full plate of grits, no matter how sick you are!

Chilean Miners: The rest of the story

2010-10-13T14:50:00.001-05:00

At press time, 21 miners are out. Seeing the first one emerge last night was something I’ll never forget, just like I’ll never forget when Baby Jessica came out of the well. There are a lot of similarities between the miners and Baby J:

--Both were trapped underground

--Both were rescued through a small hole

--Both rescues were witnessed around the world

--Both rescues turned into a media circus

And get this:

BOTH HAPPENED THE SAME WEEK!

I figured that out this morning when I was thinking about how much this reminded me of Baby Jessica. Then I thought, wasn’t it about this time of year that the Baby Jessica event happened? I don’t know how I knew that. (Maybe it’s from blogging about her, like, ten times.)

I looked it up and Jessica fell into the well on 10/14 and was rescued on 10/16. The miners rescue started on 10/12 and will likely go through 10/14, 23 years later.

Darn, just saw that The Washington Post drew the parallel between Baby Jessica and the miners before I did. I’ve been scooped!

So now that all the miners are almost out, what happens next? Well, as for me, I will continue to pray the rosary every day until they are all rescued. Then I will add two more days because I’m two rosaries behind. It has been a really cool experience to pray the rosary every day. My mother-in-law, Joanne, told me that her dad made a deal with God when he was in WWII. He told God that if He let him out of there alive, he would pray the rosary every day for the rest of his life. AND HE DID! I will probably not do it every day but I hope to get it out more often than I did before (which was never, so way more often than that).

As for the miners, I hope that they can weather the media circus they are about to endure with dignity and then get back to their normal lives. However, it seems that these stories usually go more like this:

--Victim is celebrated and given hero-status

--Victim shines during 15 minutes, receives offers of money and fame, makes the talk show rounds

--Public starts to tire of hearing victim’s story, moves on to next story

--Victim screws up: squanders the money, ruins his personal life and/or gets arrested

--Victim is scorned by the public and is no longer the victim

This seems to happen with athletes, especially Olympians (Hello, Michael Phelps, Oksana Baiul). Nancy Kerrigan is a perfect example of an Olympic-victim turned hero turned public enemy. It’s not all the victim’s fault. We love to lift people up and then knock them down.

I really hope (and pray!) that this doesn’t happen to the miners. Take a cue from Baby Jessica, guys. When your 15 minutes is up, just enjoy life above ground.

Things I wish I liked: Gardening

2010-10-10T19:54:00.001-05:00

I’m on a TIWIL roll! I’ve even thought of a new format, in an effort to make my point really clear:

Why I don’t like gardening:

This weekend we planted pansies in our front yard. We do this every year and every year, I hate it. I thought it would be cool this weekend but it was hot. So there I was, bent over the flower bed (a term I use loosely because it’s really just more like a patch that doesn’t happen to have a bush on it), digging, watering, planting. UGH!! I was uncomfortable, my back hurt and sweat was pouring down my face. I had to give myself a pep talk: “Okay, just try to plant these pansies as fast as you can and after each row, you can take a break and drink some water.” After awhile, I had to add in another incentive: when I would dig a hole I got to wipe my brow with one of Frank’s stinky old t-shirts that we now use as a dust cloth. Lucky me.

I really only like to sweat if I’m working out. At least then there’s a reward. The reward in this case should be beautiful flowers planted in front of my house. But when I was done planting the flowers Frank said, “Are these the old ones or the new ones?” AHHH!!

1. The “old” ones were half-dead and surrounded by weeds. Don’t these look even a little better?

2. If you think these are still the old ones, what do you think I’ve been doing here for the last two hours?

The reason it didn’t look so great is because not only do I not enjoy gardening, I don’t understand it. I’d like to include a sentence here like, “I don’t know an X from an X” but I know so little I can’t even think of examples!

Why I wish I liked gardening:

It sounds like a great idea, working in the yard. People look like they’re having fun doing it. In fact, I know they’re having fun because they SAY they’re having fun and sometimes people even list it under “likes” on forms. There are magazines devoted to it. The G in HGTV stands for Garden! I would love, love, love to have pretty flowers in my front yard. I’d love to have the kind of yard that wins “yard of the month” (if we had that in my neighborhood, which we should). I’d love to have curb appeal! Right now, people always think we’re not home. It’s because of my lack of landscaping!

Perhaps when the weather is cooler? No, I still don’t like the uncomfortable positions you have to be in to garden plus I still don’t understand it. And did I mention that it’s just dirty?

Gardening: I wish I liked you, but I don’t.

Things I wish I liked: Antiques

2010-10-01T13:50:00.001-05:00

Sure, I’ve got my antique kitchen table but that was totally by accident. Other than that I am an antique-free house.

As with all my “Thing I wish I liked” topics, my feelings for antiques are complex. I mean, when I see an antique piece of furniture in someone’s home, like a dresser for instance, I think it’s really cool. I might even say, “I think that’s really cool.” Perhaps I might even add, “That was your great great grandmother’s? That is REALLY cool!”

I think a lot of antiques are beautiful and charming. I love that they have a story behind them. I have a hunch they’re higher quality than things I’d find at Ikea.

But I don’t like ‘em and here’s why: People who are into antiques are hoarders. Is it possible to be have just a few antiques? Do people ever have minimalist-style homes with an antique coffee table and perhaps an antique China cabinet?

No. People with antiques always have LOTS of antiques. Their houses are covered in antique chairs, antique lamps, antique hat boxes, antique shelves and more antique end tables than they have ends. Antiquers homes end up looking a lot like antique stores (which might as well just be called “clutter centers”).

As if that weren’t enough, they’re always going “antiquing” to find MORE antiques. Pretty soon their homes are so crowded with furniture and knick knacks that it actually starts to smell like the era from which those antiques came from.

Would I like to have a few antique pieces in my home? Sure! Then I could say, “Oh, that? That’s an antique chess set I found at this little antique shop in the mountains where I went antiquing one weekend with seven girlfriends.” That would be awesome. But then I’d have to be a hoarder. And I’d have to dust a lot more often.

So, antiques. I wish I liked you. But I don’t.

The Vinegar Blog

2010-09-27T14:02:00.004-05:00

I just used vinegar to clean up a pee-pee accident by my two-year-old. Tonight, I will use that same vinegar (well, from the same bottle) in a salad dressing. Last night I cooked with onions and when the house reeked, I put out a bowl of vinegar to help get rid of the odor. My point?

Vinegar is amazing! That's why I'm devoting a whole blog to the wonder of vinegar. First, I'll list out the things I already knew vinegar could be used for.

--The three things I listed above: cleaning up carpet stains, on salads and eliminating odors.
--Cleaning hardwood floors
--As a laundry detergent
--As a dishwashing detergent
--Getting out stains in clothes
--As a baking ingredient

But that's only the beginning, people. I posted my respect for vinegar on Facebook and got a slew of other uses for vinegar:

I use it as fabric softener!

Good for diaper laundry too!

What about Easter eggs?

I love vinegar - been making my own cleaning spray with it and baking soda for awhile now, and have been experimenting with it as a fabric softener too!

It takes out those nasty odors from Darin's (Husband's) gym clothes and cleans poop off of carpets. I run a gallon mixed with water through my bath tub to clean out the goo in the jets and am currently marinating some chicken with vinegar. I love vinegar.

If you are feeling sick, take a shot of Apple Cider Vinegar and it will kill what ales you. You won't get sick if you take some as soon as you start feeling you might be.

AND I use it in my home made bug spray.. awesome:
‎2 Cups Witchazel.
1 1/2 Tablespoons of Apple Cider Vinegar and
1 Teaspoon of Citronella oil.
Put that in a spray bottle and it's ready to use

I put a cup in the laundry with my massage sheets and it gets out all the smelly oils.

Nana would put it on our mosquito bites and it stung like hell. But they would stop itching. Thanks Nana!

I mix it with water and dip Bud's (dog's) paws in it so he will not chew on them. You can also spray them on the nose with it when teaching them not to jump. They hate the smell of it.

If that's still not enough uses for you, check out this book called The Vinegar Book

The author spent five years researching vinegar! I thought I was coo-coo for devoting a whole blog to it. He is a SERIOUS vinegar lover.

Update on My Miners

2010-09-26T19:27:00.002-05:00

Just read this article with lots of good news for the "Los 33." Once rescued (in early November) the trip up will only take 15-20 minutes, not three hours as previously reported here.

I'm still praying the rosary every day. Okay, I've missed two days but I promise to double up a couple of days.

Dreams Do Come True

2010-09-21T21:42:00.001-05:00

Is it just me, or do you also have this recurring nightmare?

I’m in third grade. I miss a day of school due to illness. I go back to school the next day and all of a sudden, everybody in my class stands up on their desks and breaks into a dance. They all learned the moves the day I was out. The moves are complex, much more sophisticated than nine-year-olds should know how to do. Yet they’re all doing them perfectly. All I can do is try to keep up. But I can’t. I dance my best but I’m still the girl who missed that one day of school and didn’t learn the routine.

Then I wake up in a cold sweat, relieved it was all just a dream.

Last week, however, that dream became a reality.

I was stoked about attending a class at Tracy Anderson’s studio in NYC, given by Tracy herself. I got one of the coveted spots in the class because I was covering it for Workout of the Week. Tracy’s people warned me that the cardio portion would be challenging. They said I might just have to stand back and watch.

Me? Stand back and watch? They obviously didn’t know who they were dealing with! I mean, I work out a lot. I even take Zumba.

But here’s how it went down: the other people in the class weren’t following Tracy, they were dancing right along with her. They knew all the moves by heart. There were spins, leaps, jumps and fancy footwork. I was in the back so sometimes they would spin and spin and I would also spin and spin but while I would end up facing the front, they would end up facing me. Hi!!

It was kind of like if you randomly followed a pro basketball dance team out onto the court at halftime and were expected to perform with them. Imagine what that would look like:

Sexy, rhythmically-gifted women are doing fast-paced, complex choreography and you’re there in the back, trying to look like you belong. They turn, then you turn the other way. They leap across the room. You leap across two seconds later. They bend down in unison. You bend down one beat after.

That’s what I looked like!! It was totally like “which of these kids is doing her own thing” from Sesame Street.

One girl told me, “It’s okay. We’ve all been there.”

Then why isn’t anyone there with me now? I expected there to be some, even one, dance-dork with me! I mean, I can always count on a few uncoordinated goofs in Zumba class (having the time of their lives, by the way).

But this time, I was the only goof. And actually, I had a great time too. I mean, I was getting an awesome workout from an amazing instructor and I would probably never see these people again.

And unlike my nightmare about third grade, the people in this class didn’t make fun of me or laugh at me. At least not to my face.

It’s gonna take more than pickles

2010-09-10T14:54:00.001-05:00

I’m not writing this post to say, “Oh, I’m so great. I’m doing something really nice.” I just wanted to:

1. Bring more awareness to a troubling situation

2. Reflect on a sweet little memory

You may recall that I’m responsible for saving the life of "Baby Jessica" who once fell into a well in Texas back in the 80s. I wasn’t there but I made a deal with God. I told him that I would eat the pickles on my cheeseburger at Wendy’s if he would just get Jessica out of that well. And I HATE pickles. Not so much now, but I really despised them then. It was a HUGE sacrifice for ten-year-old me. But ya know what? Baby Jessica got out of the well and it was totally worth it. She still hasn’t sent me a thank-you note.

So now some other people are trapped underground—the miners in Chile. When I first heard it was going to take months to get them out, I really had trouble sleeping. I was totally freaked out that 33 men were stuck in a cave, 2,500 feet below ground. But then I saw that video and realized they could stand up, walk around and even smile.

While the conditions weren’t as horrific as I first imagined, it’s still awful: it’s hot, confining and they’re gonna be down there for who knows how much longer? And when the rescuers do finally reach them, each miner will have to travel up in a small capsule; the trip could take three hours. I know they won’t care at that point but it sounds scary.

Just like when Jessica was trapped, I felt the urge to DO something. But this time there are more people involved and they’re trapped further down.

Those miners need prayers, not pickles.

So I dusted off my rosary beads and I’ve been praying the rosary every day for the last two weeks. One day I missed praying it so I did it twice the next day. I’m hard core.

Embarrassingly, I’ve been Catholic for eight years and I can count on one hand how many times I’ve prayed the rosary (and I still would only need my thumb and pointer finger).

I found this great little guide that explains how to pray the rosary. It takes about twenty minutes. Sometimes I do it in the morning, sometimes right before bed. Now I barely need the guide anymore. Praying the rosary is sort of like meditating—it’s calming and you feel like you’ve done something purposeful. And since it’s divided up into five sections, I use two sections to think about the miners and the other three for other prayers—missing children, victims of natural disasters, sick people, even some of you reading this blog.

I’m not asking everyone to pray the rosary. But just remember the miners in your prayers. Thinking about them really helps to put things in perspective. For instance, is my two-year-old throwing a tantrum really that big of a deal compared to being trapped underground for months?

Until they’re rescued, I plan to pray the rosary every day; I pray for their sanity, their comfort, for the rescuers and for their families. And maybe even when they’re above ground, I’ll try not to let my rosary beads gather dust again.

Accidentally Antique

2010-09-06T19:44:00.001-05:00

We were happy that Frank’s parents gave us their old kitchen table when we got married. But that was seven years ago. And the table has to be at least 30 years old. We talk about getting a new one. I mean, the wood is fading; the chairs are wobbly but apparently…

IT’S TOTALLY COOL.

People keep commenting on it, saying things like:

“Hey, where did you get this table?”

“Is it an antique?”

"Ooh, that is a great table.”

“Did you get it at Crate and Barrel?”

And this one is my favorite:

“Did the chairs come distressed?”

So the wood that we thought was faded is actually “distressed?” That sounds so much better! Next people will call it “vintage.” I guess, technically, it IS vintage.

I had no idea we were so hip with our vintage, distressed, antique table. Now I should answer their questions with, “It’s a table that’s been in Frank’s family for years.”

That’s sure to impress people, as long as they don’t sit in the chairs. Then we might just have a lawsuit on our hands.

Grocery Store Giggles

2010-08-27T19:35:00.001-05:00

I knew I was doomed in the grocery store checkout line today when I overheard this conversation in front of me:

Annoying checker dude, talking to lady customer in front of me: So whatcha got going on this weekend?

Lady: Well, I’m going to see Train tonight.

Annoying checker dude: Oh, I know them. They sing, they sing…

Nerdy bagger girl (singing): Hey, Soul Sister

Annoying checker dude: They’re not really my forté but I guess if you’re a fan…

Nerdy bagger girl: I like Justin Bieber

Annoying checker dude: Ugh, I don’t know any of his songs but I see him everywhere.

Lady: He was just here, right?

Nerdy bagger girl: Yes, August 15th! My friend and I waited in line and blah blah blah

So this went on for awhile and I’m getting anxious because I know I’m up next and I have NO TIME for anything beyond pleasantries. I considered saying something like, “You know, I don’t mean to be rude but I really don’t have time to talk…” But instead, I went with the “I’m so shy that I just smile, nod and giggle” approach. Next time, I’ll go with my original idea.

Annoying Checker Dude, to me: So whatcha got going on this weekend?

Shy girl (me), giggling : I don’t know, nothing.

ACD: Just relaxing at home? That’s cool.

Nerdy Bagger Girl: I wish I could relax at home. I have to open the store four days in a row! But then I’m off on Wednesday because it’s my birthday. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I have no earthly idea what I should do. What do you think I should do?

ACD: I don’t know. Maybe go to a movie? I don’t have TV at home so I don’t even know what movies are out. (To me), Do you know any good movies that are out?

Shy girl (me): I don’t know.

ACD: Oh, has it been that long since you’ve been to the movies?

Shy girl (me), giggling more: Yes

NBG: I just have no earthly idea what I’m gonna do. No earthly idea! It’s my 23rd birthday. I can’t have a party because I have to open the store on Thursday.

ACD: What do YOU think she should do?

My giggling is getting real now because I start imagine to this as a Saturday Night Live sketch. Then I remembered they had a sketch similar to this about a lady who worked at Target and got into everyone’s business. And that made me start to really laugh.

Then ACD and NBG stopped talking long enough to notice me, the shy girl, hysterically laughing. Hopefully they just thought I was really nervous. You know, because of the shyness.

Anyway, it all finally wraps up with her asking me if I’ve ever heard of a place called “Wild Bill’s” (a country dancing club). She said she was considering going there for her birthday and then ACD said that he can’t go there because he gets into way too much trouble.

When NBG offered to walk me and my groceries out to my car, I let her because I figured that was when she was going to break character and tell me I was on this new hidden camera show.

I was shocked when, instead, she grilled me more about what she should do for her birthday. I found myself suggesting that she have a party on Tuesday night, since she didn’t have to get up in the morning for work on Wednesday. I have no idea why I let her suck me into that. No earthly idea.

The Evolution of Email

2010-08-22T20:52:00.001-05:00

Some people can say they remember when TV was invented. Others remember the first records. I am proud of the fact that I will be able to tell my grandchildren that I was there for the debut of email.

It was August 1995. I was a freshman in college when my dad told me about it. “Email?” I asked. “What’s that?”

“It means electronic mail,” he said. “You have got get an email address!” He’s had an email address so long that the year “95” is still part of his email address. I’ve never thought of my parents as early adopters so it’s really extraordinary that they were the first people I knew to get email. I mean, they didn’t even get a cable-ready TV until a few years after they got email.

My dad hounded me about it for weeks. I remember thinking, “What do I need with one of these things?” But then I figured out that I could get one through school. I still didn’t know exactly how to go about it so one day, while I was over at my friend’s dorm, the IT guy there said he would help us set up our email addresses. He was typing all the stuff into his computer and he said, “What do you want your password to be?” Since we were all about to go to the pool, I was holding my beach towel with a Disney character on it. I looked at the towel and said, “Jasmine!” He made my password “Jasmine” and do you know that every single password I’ve had for the last 15 years has had “Jasmine” in it? (By the way, it’s not actually Jasmine. I didn’t think it was smart to post my actual password.)

The only way I could check email in college was to go to the library and get on a waiting list for a computer. Can you imagine doing that now?

I remember thinking it was so weird when I got out into the workforce and people would email me when they were three cubes away. And all business was conducted over email. I could barely keep up with all the messages. Luckily, I had access to a computer and didn’t have to wait in line.

This is gonna be good stuff for the grandkids! But Great Grandpa Ron will have the best story of all. He can say he was the FIRST person (well, the first in our family) to have email. That’s totally better than a story about walking to school in the snow, uphill, both ways.

Roller Skating Girl Scouts with Up-Dos

2010-08-11T10:11:00.001-05:00

I saw this commercial the other day for a local water park. It was shot on video (as opposed to film) so it had, what I call, the “we filmed this commercial in our backyard” look.

The amateur approach to this commercial gave me a flash back to a commercial that I was almost a cast member of:

Let’s say it was 1986. I’m not exactly sure of the year but I feel like I was about nine. I was in Girl Scout Troop 114 (that I AM sure of) and we went on this excursion one Saturday that involved the most random of events:

First, we went to the local junior college to get our hair and make-up done. The cosmetology students there fixed us up with tons of blue eye shadow, blush and lip stick. Then they topped us off with up-dos. Some of us got French braids. I’m not sure which is funnier.

And we were wearing our Girl Scout uniforms, mind you.

Then we all went to this roller skating rink. Now the roller skating rink was owned by the dad of this girl in our troop named Becky Jo. (That’s not her real name but it was a double name that sounded like she belonged in a double wide.)

Anyway, Becky Jo’s dad claimed he had bought commercial space on MTV and needed to film a spot about the rink. Of course, we didn’t understand that a commercial on MTV could be local and only run in the middle of the night. We thought we were going to be seen by millions of MTV watching music fans, all over the country, all the time. There would be a Madonna video followed by Girl Scout Troop 114, roller skating around in our make-up and up-dos.

So we roller skated around and around while the cameras (or the dude with the small video camera) rolled. It was a pretty easy gig. I don’t know what models are always complaining about.

Then every day after that we tuned into MTV to see our debut. I never saw it. Nobody ever did. What a waste of an up-do!

But at least if I ever get an IMDB profile it won’t list “Becky Jo’s Dad’s Roller Skating Rink Commercial” as my first acting job.

I really regret that I don’t have a picture of this to show you but it kinda looked like this:

The Rise and Fall of the Caboodle

2010-08-04T14:36:00.001-05:00

Granny Jo often says the word “Caboodle” when playing with Leo. Of course, that got me thinking about Caboodles, as in the great make-up and accessories organization kits of the 80s.

I wondered, whatever happened to Caboodles? They were cute, clever and effective for both storage and transport. Plus, the word Caboodle is so fun to say! “My mom says I can spend the night. Let me just grab my Caboodle and I’ll come over” or “Where is my blue eyeliner? Oh, it’s in my Caboodle. No doy!”

I had one but I’m not sure what I put in it because I probably wasn’t old enough to wear make-up when they were popular. And why did we stop using Caboodles? Was it when people started going grunge in the 90s and therefore wore less make-up and jewelry? I guess a Caboodle wasn’t really great for storing flannel shirts. Plus, with its pastel colors, it didn’t really go with the dreary-Seattle movement.

The way I feel about Caboodles is not unlike how I feel about Banana Clips. Both were wonderful inventions. Both made everyone who used them happy. Both made our lives easier. And both fell victim to our fickle consumer society. I’m very sorry to have been a part of your demise, Caboodle.

The good news is that Caboodles, the company, is still going strong. They make all kinds of make-up cases, some more sophisticated for those of us in the 30+ crowd. And they still make Caboodles like the ones pictured above. But get this; they’re called “Classic” Caboodles.

I think I’m going to get one. If I had one in 1997, it may have looked like I was just out of style. But if I have one now, I could say, “Oh, that? That’s my Caboodle. It’s vintage 1986. It holds my make-up, jewelry and there’s even a space for my banana clips.”

Hummus Among Us

2010-07-22T19:44:00.001-05:00

The word hummus sounds gross. And when I first tried it, back in 2006, I thought it tasted gross too. Seems like it would always show up at book club and I was like, “Hummus? Ewww…”

But then a month ago I tried it again. And again and again and again and now I’m like a hummus freak! I’ve had hummus every day since that second taste. Hi, my name is Elsa and I am a hummusaholic! And I didn’t just stop with classic hummus. I had roasted red pepper hummus, garlic hummus and edamame hummus (which basically tastes like guacamole).

It’s kinda like a cheese spread but it’s GOOD FOR YOU! It’s made of chickpeas (who knew those were good?) which are high in fiber. Hummus also has olive oil and we all know that olive oil is good whether you eat it or rub it all over your body. (Hmmm, a hummus body wrap, perhaps?)

Not only have I been dipping everything from crackers to Cheese-Its to bread in my hummus but put hummus on things like turkey wraps and hamburgers. Yes, a hummus hamburger!

Anyway, I just want to say sorry to hummus for misjudging it. I was wrong. So wrong. And now, all I can say is, "Thank you for taking me back, hummus!”

I may need an intervention…

Cell phones: convenient or catastrophe?

2010-07-17T18:36:00.001-05:00

Cell phones are supposed to make our lives easier, even safer. But I believe they are making our lives more complicated. I first thought this on the eve of the 21st century, when I was at a little party called A2K—Austin’s New Year’s Eve block party. We spent the whole evening calling people on cell phones, trying to meet up. Maybe if we had gotten off the phone and looked around, we would have seen that the people we really wanted to see were right there (and that whole Y2K thing turned out to be no biggie).

It’s funny that I noticed this on New Year’s Eve because I think this whole dependence on cell phones really started 1/1/00.Ever since then we’ve been attached at the ear. It’s getting OOC. (And I’m not saying I’m innocent.)

Rather than ramble on about the whole thing, I’ll illustrate my point with a little exchange between two fictional friends named Ann and Fran.

Here is how Ann and Fran met up for lunch in 1994:

Fran: Hey, you want to go to lunch?

Ann: Sure. How’s Wednesday?

Fran:“Okay, see you there at 12.

(Wednesday, 12:00)

Fran: Hi, good to see you.

Ann: Thanks for inviting me. Let’s eat.

And here is how Ann and Fran meet up for lunch in 2010:

Ann: “Hey, you want to go to lunch?”

Fran: “Sure. How’s Wednesday?”

Ann: “Okay, see you there at 12.”

(Wednesday, 10:00am, text exchange)

Ann: Are we still on for lunch?

Fran: Yes.

Ann: Okay, see you there. Call me when you’re leaving.

(Wednesday, 11:30, phone exchange)

Fran: Hey, I’m going to leave in, like, five, minutes.

Ann: Okay, call me when you’re in the car.

(Wednesday, 11:45, phone exchange)

Fran: Hi, I’m in the car. I’m on the freeway. I’ll probably be there in 15 minutes.

Ann: Me too. Call me when you’re exiting.

(11:53, phone exchange)

Fran: I took the wrong exit so I’m going to be about three minutes late. Sorry.

Ann: That’s okay. Call me when you’re, like, four minutes away.

Fran: Where are you?

Ann: I just exited.

Fran: Okay, you call me when you’re at the light in front of the restaurant.

Ann: The light on Mills Rd?

Fran: No, the light on Hills Rd.

Ann: Oh, I’m there right now.

Fran: Okay, then call me when you’re at Mills Rd.

(11:55)

Ann: I’m at Mills Rd.

Fran: I’m at Hills Rd.

Ann: I’ll call you when I’m in the parking lot.

(11:59)

Ann: I’m in the parking lot. Where are you?

Fran: I’m in the restaurant.

Ann: How did you beat me?

Fran: I don’t know but I’m at a booth in the back.

Ann: Okay, I’ll call you when I’m walking in.

(12:01)

Ann: I’m walking in. I don’t see you.

Fran: I’m way in the back. I’m wearing a red shirt.

Ann: OMG. I’m wearing a red shirt too!

Fran: I think I see you. I’m waving. Do you see me waving?

Ann: No.

Fran: Oh, I’m waving at the wrong person.

Ann: I see you! You’re on the phone!

Fran: Yes, I see you too! You’re on the phone!

Ann: I guess I’ll hang up.

Fran: Well, wait until you’re sitting down just to be sure.

Ann: Okay, I’m here now. You’re right in front of me. I’m going to hang up.

Fran: Hi, good to see you.

Ann: Thanks for inviting me. Let’s eat.

The Couple That Runs Together…

2010-07-08T19:29:00.001-05:00

Frank and I ran our first race together back in 2001. It was called “Cupid’s Chase” and it was Valentine’s Weekend in Dallas. At the end of the 5K, they combine your totals. I think we placed like third in our age group. I also think there were only four couples in our age group.

But look, we won medals and everything!

After the above picture was taken we took another one where we posed like runners, ready to start a race.

We waited nine years to do our second run together (this time a 10K) and thought it would be cute if we did that same pose again:

This blog would be so much cuter if I could actually find that original picture where we are posed like runners. But alas, I put it in my picture shower curtain and when I threw that out, I think the picture (which was probably mildewed) went out too. (I miss that picture shower curtain.)

So anyway, we may only run together every nine years (and actually, neither time did we actually run together) but we have fun when we do it.

We better start training for our race in 2019!

Drawerganization!

2010-07-03T19:25:00.001-05:00

If it’s weird for me to feel totally giddy every time I open my kitchen drawers…

…and see my new, awesome drawer organizers from The Container Store,

then I don’t want to be normal!

Southern Charm

2010-06-24T09:43:00.001-05:00

This is an excerpt of an actual exchange I overheard at Starbucks in Roswell, Georgia earlier this week:

(An older lady was fumbling around with her coffee and straw and was blocking the door.)

Younger man, 40ish: “Excuse me, ma’am.”

Older lady: “Oh, I am so sorry, sir. Please forgive me. You go right ahead.”

Younger man: “Oh, no, ma’am. After you. I insist.”

Older lady: “That’s very kind of you, sir, but please, you go ahead.”

Younger man: “No,no. YOU please go ahead, ma’am.”

When I left they were still doing their dance of politeness and I don’t think either was getting out of there anytime soon.

I don’t think the other SB customers thought anything of it because that is a very typical occurrence around here. Having good manners is not just a southern cliché. It’s reality. Everyone is über polite.

Practically every conversation is drizzled with, “I hope I didn’t offend you” and “Oh, I’m sorry. I think I interrupted you.”

I’ve also found that if I complain about anything then my other mom friends think it’s their fault:

“Leo was so bad at the store today.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I should have offered to keep him for you!”

“I have nothing to make for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, I was just at the store. I should have picked up something for you. Come eat at our house!”

And sure, we have rude drivers here but sometimes I honk at someone because they’re taking too long at a green light and, instead of giving me the finger, they WAVE at me like, “Thanks for reminding me! I’m so sorry!”

It’s all just very sweet and charming. But now I know I could never live somewhere like NYC or France where I imagine things would go more like this:

At the Starbucks:

“Get out of my way, old lady!”

(Old lady dumps coffee on younger guy’s head.)

Talking to my friends:

“Leo was so bad at the store.”

“Sucks to be you.”

“I have nothing to make for dinner tonight.”

“I never eat. That’s why I’m so skinny.”

Yes, I’m definitely spoiled here. Oh, and if any of my blog offended you, I do apologize.

Online Church Offerings: Not So Holy

2010-06-16T13:12:00.001-05:00

The church offering envelope used to be the source of much fighting in our house:

10:28am, Typical Sunday at the Simciks

Me: AIS in two minutes! (That means “Ass in Seat.” We got it from ELR, Everybody Loves Raymond).

Frank: Do you have the envelope?

Me: No, I thought you had the envelope!

Frank: Fine, I’ll get the envelope. Do you have any money?

Me: No, I don’t have a real job. How would I have money?

Frank: Let me see what I have. Where’s my wallet?

Me: Did you check the pants you were wearing last night?

Frank: Oh, found it.

Me: AIS one minute ago! We’re late!

Frank: I don’t have any money! We need to go by the ATM.

Me: Why didn’t you think of that before?

Frank: Why didn’t YOU think of that before?

Me: Well now we’re going to have to walk in late and that’s so embarrassing.

Frank: Would you rather show up late or not put money in the basket?

And so it would go every week. But not anymore. Now we give online. It’s the greatest thing to ever happen to our Sunday mornings.

I hesitated to give online for awhile because I thought, “If I give online, I’ll still have to pass the offering basket without putting anything in it.”

But as it turns out, there’s a box on those same offering envelopes that says “I give online” and you can just check it. So every week we still put an envelope in the basket. It’s just empty.

I’m glad we’ve worked all that out but I have to say, this whole process is VERY unbiblical. Sure, the Bible doesn’t address online giving but it does talk about giving just for the sake of showing off. Check it out:

Matthew 6:1-4 (But) take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them; otherwise, you will have no recompense from your heavenly Father. When you give alms, do not blow a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets to win the praise of others. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right is doing, so that your almsgiving may be secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you.

I mean, the whole reason our church offers the option to check the box on the envelope is so we can still put something in the basket. And they know that the only reason we want to put something in the basket is so that people can see us do it.

Not only does my left hand know what my right is doing, everyone in the pew knows too. Last week I even chased down the usher, just to give him my empty envelope! Talk about blowing your trumpet like the hypocrites.

Still, I think I’m gonna stick with it for now. It just works for us. I grab the envelope, check the box and we’re done! It may be unbiblical (not to mention eco-unfriendly) but the church is still getting their money and we get our AIS right on time.

Cart Court

2010-06-11T09:24:00.001-05:00

I thought cart abandonment was a pretty black and white offense: You fail to put your cart in the cart corral or bring it back to the store, you're guilty.

The punishment? Well, for now, there is no official "law" against it but if you do it in my presence you will be subjected to evil glares and I may push your cart into the corral for you. So there.

But this cart situation stumped me:

There is a Babies R Us cart in Target's cart corral!

Now, maybe if Babies R Us was right next to Target, I could understand. But BRU is, like, eight stores away! I rarely even walk between the two of them.

Here is what I think happened. This person parked at Target and shopped there. She put her Target goods in her car and then decided to go into Bed Bath and Beyond (next to Target). After Bed, Bath and Beyond, she wandered into Old Navy and so on and so on until she ended up at Babies R Us. She didn't plan to buy anything but Diaper Genies were 30% off! She had to get one. No, three. So she loaded up the genies in a Babies R Us cart and pushed them back to Target where her car was parked. Now, what to do with the cart? "I know!" she said. "I'll put it in this cart corral. At least it won't hit someone's car."

If I were to try her Cart Court, I would sentence her to me taking back her cart to Babies R Us. I wouldn't glare at her though. Her heart was in the right place.

Pillow People

2010-06-04T14:35:00.001-05:00

I was in the security line at the Atlanta airport the other day and right in front of me were two young women, chatting eagerly about their Memorial Day weekend plans. I noticed that, in addition to their carry-on luggage, they were each holding pillows.

Ugh. I rolled my eyes. Pillow People!!

Who are Pillow People?

People who have to bring their own pillows everywhere they go. To me, this is so high maintenance. So Princess and the Pea. So J. Lo and her alleged “I can only have green M&Ms” rider requests.

I mean, can you not sleep on another pillow? What’s so special about your pillow that you think it’s worth lugging around with you all over the country, or perhaps the planet?

Sure, you may want to sleep on the plane but they have pillows, ya know. Okay, they’re flat and small and maybe dozens of heads have been on them in between cleanings but…

Well, maybe Pillow People have a point there.

But if the PPs are bringing their pillows to use at their destination, that I don’t get. Celebs, especially. They stay at posh hotels! I bet the pillows are magnificent.

Hey, Blake Lively, where are you going that they don’t have decent pillows? I know you’re not staying at the Best Western! (And by the way, the pillows at BW are fine.)

And Eva Longoria Parker, what makes your head so privileged?

My head is perfectly fine on any pillow. I’m no diva. Give me a throw pillow. Give me a rolled up blanket. Just give me something that props my up my head and I’m happy. Oh, and also some green M&Ms. Only green ones.

Beach Grocery Stores

2010-05-27T08:25:00.001-05:00

I love beach grocery stores. Mainland grocery stores are okay but they don’t have that aura about them that beach grocery stores have. When you go to the grocery store at the beach, you’re there for beer, picnic food, sunscreen, flip flops, floating noodles, goofy koozies and more beer.

Come to think of it, it’s kind of like the fridge v. the gridge. The beach grocery store is the gridge of grocery stores! It may be the same thing but it’s more fun.

Plus, everyone at a beach grocery store is wearing their beach attire—even the cashiers. Sometimes people are even shirtless and barefoot. It’s like a Kenny Chesney song!

At beach grocery stores, the sun is always shining and you can actually see it because all the doors and windows are open. At mainland grocery stores there’s no natural light and you have no idea what time it is. It’s like a Vegas casino.

The food from the beach grocery store even tastes better. It must be the salt air.

We’re going visit my relatives in North Carolina at the beach this weekend. We need to stop at the grocery store to pick up things for Leo. My Aunt suggested that, as we drive in from the airport, we go to the grocery store on the mainland. “It’s Memorial Day weekend and it will be crazy at any grocery store close to the beach,” she told me. But that’s what I LOVE about beach grocery stores—the craziness!

I had to get my feelings on beach grocery stores in writing because get this: I’ve been sharing my thoughts on the topic for years and then one day, Frank suddenly blurted out in a conversation with other people, “I just love beach grocery stores. There’s something so cool about going to the grocery store at the beach.” The people he was talking to nodded in agreement.

“WHAT?” I interrupted. “THAT’S MY THING! LOVING BEACH GROCERY STORES IS SOMETHING I MADE UP! YOU STOLE IT!”

They all looked at me like I was wack-o and Frank said, “I’m sure more than one person likes beach grocery stores” as everyone nodded and tried to discreetly make the universal sign for “crazy.”

I still maintain that Frank stole my spiel. I’m going to get him back. Not only am I going to dominate every conversation with MY adoration for beach grocery stores, but I’m going to make him go to that dark, dreary mainland grocery store this weekend. And when he’s not looking, I’m going to sneak off to a beach grocery store. Oh, it’s on!

How can I make you smile today?

2010-05-21T14:52:00.001-05:00

“Hi, Thank you for calling Dr. Roof. My name is Nancy. How can I make you smile today?”

That’s seriously how they answer the phone every time. Isn’t that more of a greeting for a dentist’s office or a spa or Disney World?

I’m thinking, I don’t think there is anything you could do or say that would make me smile. I mean, I’m not mad. It’s just that I have to pay $185 for you to come out and fix one measly shingle on my roof. I’m sure glad you’re gonna do it because I don’t want it to rain inside my house. But it would be weird if I smiled about it.

So I made my appointment for Rick the roofer to come out. But later I decided that time wouldn’t work.

I called back. “Hi, Thank you for calling Dr. Roof. My name is Nancy. How can I make you smile today?”

“I need to reschedule my appointment,” I told her and then went on to tell her that if Rick comes as late as 1:30 and then has to do work on the roof, that could interfere with my kid’s nap. She then suggested that he come between 11:30 and 12:30. I said, “Okay, but does he have anything even earlier?”

“You know what, I’m going to make it work,” she said.

I said, “No, no. 11:30-12:30 is fine!”

“I want to do anything I can to make you smile today!”

Woah. She meant what she said. And I was smiling.

“What about 9-10, is that good? DOES THAT MAKE YOU SMILE?”

Forget smiling. I was laughing now.

“Yes,” I answered between laughs.

“DOES IT? DOES THAT MAKE YOU SMILE?”

Now I’m hysterically laughing.

“Yes! Yes!” I said. “That makes me smile!!”

“Good. Because all I want to do is make you smile!”

Gotta hand it to Dr. Roof. They are serous about smiles. This lady should work at Disney World.

The Merry Merry Month of May

2010-05-19T13:37:00.003-05:00

I was writing the date the other day--side note: I always know the date; I rarely say, 'what's today?' I'm cool like that--and I thought, "Ah, I just love May." And then I thought, "Why do I love May so much?" (Conversation with self continues below):

I guess because it reminds me of school getting out.
But you've been out of school for (A LOT OF) years. Why do you care now?
You just never forget that awesome feeling of the last day of school. There's no homework; you can defy the dress code; everybody's just itching with excitement about the summer. I should write a blog on how May is my all-time favorite month.

To me, May is like Thursday. There's all the promise of the weekend (or in May's case, summer) but the clock hasn't started ticking yet. When Friday afternoon comes (or June), the fun has begun. So that means the fun will end. And really, looking forward to something is way better than the actual thing.

Because summertime (especially if you grew up in Texas) is really hot. May's not quite as hot. And in my memory it's always sunny and breezy in May. The shorts come out, the sleeves come off. There's just so much promise.

And then there are graduations! Sure, the actual ceremonies are boring but to finish something and celebrate it--that's wonderful! And yes, it can be scary because if you're graduating college you may not have a job yet. But on that actual graduation day, none of that matters. You've got until June to worry about that!

I really wanted to have my wedding in May but Frank did some research and presented to me (in bar graph form) why April was better. Contrary to the whole "April showers brings May flowers" chant, May actually produces more rain historically than April (at least in Dallas). So how could I argue with such a compelling (and romantic) argument?

Still, I have lots of fun memories of May--dozens of last days of schools, graduations, our trip to Europe, other people's weddings (who apparently didn't see Frank's bar graph) and my grandma's annual Memorial Day pig picking.

Enjoy it while it lasts; there are just 12 days left. And I didn't even have to consult a calendar before I wrote that.

Cruel Summer

2010-05-13T13:32:00.001-05:00

When I was a little Writinggal, I was so insanely jealous of kids who had pools in their backyards. Our next door neighbors “the kids” had one. The dorky guy down the street had one. And the girl on the next street over who was my age but looked like she was 16? She had one too.

But here’s the thing with kids and pools: If you own a pool, you’re kinda sick of it. Sure, at first you swim in it every day but just like any other new toy, you get bored. Well, us kids without a pool were never bored of the idea. I wanted to go swimming in one of those pools every day during the summer. But the pool-kids were so stingy with them!

The rule was that I could never ask to go in their pools. I had to be invited. Oh, it was so hard to not even drop hints: “Boy, it sure is hot outside. Have you noticed that? If only there was a way we could cool off…and also jump from some sort of board into some water…”

One day I was walking down the street in our neighborhood with one of my friends. The dad of the girl who always looked like a teenager came out and said, “Hi! Would you girls like to go for a swim?”

“YES!” we both replied and before I could even turn to dart home and get my suit, towel (and permission from my mom, of course), this jerk said, “I bet you would!” The fact that I still remember that means it left a big mark of disappointment on me. (That, and I have a pretty awesome memory.)

“The kids” next door were no better. I could hear them splashing and playing through out adjoining fences and I longed to escape my backyard full of grass and go to their oddly-landscaped yard, featuring big ceramic shoes with plants growing out of them.

Dorky dude was the worst. I never once swam in his pool. Come to think of it, though, he was a little pudgy so maybe he was embarrassed to be seen in swimwear. Forgivable.

If one day I have a pool in my backyard, I’m going to invite all the neighbor kids so come swim in it. But really, there’s that whole liability issue and all the work involved in keeping up with the pool and my own kids would probably get bored of it quickly. I think I’ll just let them be kids who beg other kids to let them swim in their pools. It will be a good learning experience for them. Give ‘em something to write about one day.

And now (since I’m still excited about this new feature where I can insert maps into blogs), I’ll show you Friendswood, Texas, where all of this took place. See? down there just south of Houston. From here it looks so close to the ocean I don’t know why I cared about pools!

Late adopter blogger

2010-05-11T09:10:00.000-05:00

I just downloaded Windows Live Writer (Thanks to Josh, my Writinggal IT Consultant!) My intention was to use it for some website copy I’m working on but I found it’s really helpful for blogging. For instance, whenever I put pictures on my blog it took forever because I had to add one at a time. With WLW you can add a bunch at once and make this cute little collage!

View Full Album

I can also insert a map!! Here’s Roswell, GA!

Not sure why I’d ever need to do that but it’s good to know I can if i want to.

And OMG, inserting hyperlinks is so easy! I used to spend all this time cutting and pasting (well, it was like two minutes) and now I just pop it right in. Check this out: Be sure to check my Workout of the Week blog tomorrow for a fun workout I bet you’ve never tried!

I can’t believe I took so long to get a program like this. Actually, yes I can. I still own a VCR. (I think it will be valuable one day!)

Unnecessary prepping

2010-05-10T13:41:00.004-05:00

I’m on a high today since the housekeeper came and all my toilet paper is in cute little shapes like triangles and roses. Plus, the house is clean. But really, it was clean before she got here. You know why? Because I cleaned up for the housekeeper! When I explained it to Leo it sounded weird: “We have to pick up all your toys and put them in the toy box because Kezia is coming to clean today.” He looked at me like, “So you’re cleaning because someone’s coming to clean?”

I prepped the house by straightening, wiping and even doing a little pre-dusting.
I have two reasons for this neurotic behavior:

1. I don’t want her to spend all her time picking up toys. I need her to vacuum!
2. I don’t want her to think I’m a slob.

These are the same reasons I wash and do my hair before going to the hairdresser. I don’t want her to get nauseous washing my greasy hair. Plus, if I go in there with a pony tail she’ll have no idea what my hair normally looks like. She might wash it, cut and then put it right back in a pony tail! And then what would be the point of going out to dinner to show off my new do?

Getting the car washed: I mainly go so they can rid my car of Goldfish but I still pick up some of the bigger fish. I don’t want them to think I’m a savage.

Mani/Pedi: I can’t go in there with dirty feet and sharp finger nails!

If I had eyebrows I’d probably pre-tweeze them before going to get them done. But since I don’t, I can spend more time cleaning my house and then paying someone to clean it.

It sounds crazy but it's totally worth it. I could never make roses out of toilet paper.

News from WG HQ

2010-05-05T12:28:00.003-05:00

Here are the latest headlines from Writinggal Headquarters:

1. I've got a new blog: www.workoutoftheweek.blogspot.com I explain it all in the first post. This is an ambitious move from Writinggal as it means she'll have to really get serious about posting every week. She will not, however, be writing in the third person. She hates the third person. Actually, second person is worse. One should never write in the second person.

2. Look at my fun new background! It's sort of teenage girl wallpaper meets The Secret Garden.

3. Did you know that Cinco de Mayo is a celebration of when the Mexican army defeated the French? I so wished someone would ask me that today so that I could show off my knowledge from growing up in Texas. But nobody has yet so I'll guess they'll just have to keep thinking it means "the day to drink margaritas."

That last headline doesn't really have much to do with my writing or blogging. I just felt I needed a third one. Guess it's time for a margarita!

St. John--Then and Now

2010-04-28T19:43:00.007-05:00

Frank and I just got back from an amazing trip to St. John in the US Virgin Islands. (Big shout out to Uncle John who let us stay in his condo for four nights and use his jeep!)

Now this wasn't our first trip to the island. We went there in 2003 a few months after we got married. (Wish we had the free place to stay back then!) While looking back at our pictures from seven years ago, I realized we're pretty predictible:

Feet picture '03:

Feet picture '10:

Sleeping on the beach with a water bottle as a pillow in '03:

Sleeping on the exact same beach with a water bottle as a pillow '10:

Posing on a balcony '03:

Posing on a balcony '10:

Jamming in '03 (Song unknown...my top guesses are Livin' on a Prayer, If you like Pina Coladas or Sweet Home Alabama):

Jamming in '10: (Song: Today is the Greatest by Smashing Pumpkins...my high school class song!)

Check me out on the ferry in '03:

Check me out on the ferry '10:

Please refrain from comments about how much younger we looked back then...unless you're talking about Frank's feet.

Housekeeping Heaven

2010-04-22T12:06:00.002-05:00

I've daydreamed about having a housekeeper. Nothing as serious as Alice on the Brady Bunch. Just someone to come once or twice a month to do all the chores I loathe. But I couldn't justify it. It's expensive, I can do it myself, etc.

But, oh, was I wrong.

First of all, it's not as expensive as I thought. My friend told me about her housekeeper who charges $90 once a month or $70 twice a month. Okay, so only she speaks Portuguese and you have to go through a translator to set it up but who cares?

Second, I can do it myself but I'm no good at it.

And about the etc: It's so glorious to come home to a sparkling clean house. That alone is worth $90.

Now Kezia is my new favorite person. I won't go on and on about how she cleaned the floors, the kitchen, took out the trash, dusted and got my bathroom shower looking better than it has since we moved in (although she did do all that stuff). Instead, I'll tell you about the cool, unexpected things she did:

--You know how your dish soap dispener gets all nasty? Mine's shiny and clean. You can't really tell from this pic but you can see my nice clean kitchen.

--Look at my half bath: That basket with magazines used to be up against the wall. She put it at an angle. So cute! The tissue holder is angled too. Angles are awesome.

Look at the hand towel. It's folded all neat like a hotel. We haven't dried our hands since because we don't want to mess it up.

And speaking of hotels, this is the absolute best part--the little flower she made on all the toilet paper rolls. Don't worry, we HAVE unraveled this, although we hated to.

Only three more weeks and she returns!

Why Writinggal Rocks

2010-04-16T14:45:00.004-05:00

I've belted out their tunes from balconies, on dance floors, at karaoke nights, at bachelorette parties, in the car and even while entering my wedding reception.

Last night, Bon Jovi finally got to hear my amazing interpretation of their music:

They asked me to join them on tour but I said I think Claire and I are going to form our own band.

Google Guesses

2010-04-12T13:21:00.002-05:00

I was typing a search into Google: Where do I buy Thomas the Train accessories? (By the way, I generally know where to buy them but I wondered which toy store had the best selection.)

So as I typed "Where do I buy" Google started guessing what I was going to ask:

Essential oils
Mistletoe
Tier 9
A Kindle
Dry Ice
An iPhone
Savings bond
Stamps

Some of these make sense. I mean, I really wouldn't know where to find essential oils, dry ice or Tier 9. (I actually didn't even know what Tier 9 was and had to do a separate Google search just to figure it out. Apparently it's some armor set for the World of Warcraft. I don't know what World of Warcraft is either but I'm not curious enough to search on this subject anymore.)

And a Kindle...well, I guess everyone might not know that that's an Amazon product. Forgivable.

But an iPhone? If you don't know where to get an iPhone then you probably aren't ready for one.

And a savings bond? You get that at any bank, right?

Stamps has to be the worst one. Come on! In fact, I'm curious about what kind of answer you get if you type in something like that:

Okay, mystery solved: it's...you're never going to believe this...the post office.

Now that I know that I'd like to understand where Google comes up with these guesses. Is it based on popular searches? And if so, why are so many people trying to buy mistletoe in April? Or is it based on my preferences? Is this what Google thinks of me? I'm just a girl, sitting around in armor, rubbing essential oils on my feet (because that's the only part of me not covered in armor) contemplating how I'm going to use dry ice as a weapon in my next World of Warcraft match. And as I'm doing this, I'm reading a book and wishing it were on a computer, rather than a hard back and longing for an iPhone so I could communicate faster with my armor-buddies. Oh, and I need savings bonds, mistletoe and stamps.

It's spooky how right they are.

Things I wish I liked: scrapbooking

2010-04-06T07:23:00.000-05:00

Yesterday two of my friends talked about how they wanted to get together to make scrapbooks. Wait, actually, I don't think you say "make scrapbooks," I think you just say "scrapbook" like it's a verb. It sounded so fun. They had all the materials but hadn't put the books together. They were going to drink wine, chat and scrapbook. (I might have made up the drinking wine part.)They asked if I wanted in. Nuh-uh. Why? I'm anti-scrapbook.

Seems like a weird thing to be against, right? I mean, when the book is complete it's really cool. It's something you and your friends and family can use to reminisce and laugh. It holds all your memories in a creative and clever way. It's full of cute stickers, captions and bordered paper.

And the putting together while drinking wine and chatting? That sounds great! Plus, it would be a smart thing to do with all the pictures I've got just lying around...on my hard drive.

But I just don't like it. First of all, in order to get involved in it you have to buy tons of paper, stickers, decals and even these special scissors...not to mention the books. Where does all of that go? In my house! It would pile up until I'd be buried in scrapbooking materials. Then I would end up on Oprah as a hoarder. And that is like my worst nightmare. Because if I have one chance to be on Oprah, it better be because I'm the author of one of her book club books.

Also, it seems like scrapbooking women go to conventions. I don't like conventions. And somehow I imagine that scrapbooking conventions are full of frumpy ladies hauling their crafts in those mesh carts like I've seen at flea markets. And I really don't like flea markets.

And speaking of crafts, that's really the #1 reason I can't scrapbook. I am so not crafty. All the glue, tape and fine motor skills--it's just too complicated!

So I'll just stay here with my virtual pictures and fill-in-the-blank, unfinished baby book.

Scrapbooking. I wish I liked it. But I don't.

Signs of Spring

2010-03-29T07:56:00.002-05:00

It's the end of March and it's still cold here. It's just not right. I mean, if I wanted to suffer I'd live in Wisconsin. But even though it's chilly, I've seen a few indicators that tell me spring is on its way:

1. The canopy went up for Nell's produce stand! Nell is this old lady who has two produce stands (that I know of) in Atlanta. One is in a parking lot right by my house. Her grandson runs it. It's only open between April and October. They sell all your basic fruits and veggies but the best part is they have red peppers for $1! Oh, and sometimes, if you buy a lot of stuff, they give you a basket. I heart free baskets.

2. The cover is off on our neighborhood pool! I'm not sure why they need to take it off two months before the pool opens but it tells me warm weather is coming!

3. I looked down at my feet and thought, ew, is that nasty wart that I had removed from my toe coming back? And if it is, how am I going to wear open toe shoes? Should I try to remove it again or just cover it up with make-up? That's gross to use make-up on your foot and then on your face. I don't want to buy separate feet make-up. Do they make feet make-up? Should I put a band-aid on it? I never would have had all these random thoughts about the state of my feet if spring weren't near!

Okay, that's all I got so far. I'll keep you posted. I need all the hope I can get because it's like 40 degrees right now. You won't catch me out buying peppers or prematurely jumping in the pool. Although I might shop for feet make-up.

My List

2010-03-26T12:27:00.003-05:00

Last week I had lunch with mom's cousin Virginia and her husband, Larry. Larry is a character and when I told him I didn't drink coffee he said, "You don't drink coffee? You're on my list!"

I told him that people who do drink coffee are actually on my list. "And so are people who were born after 1980!" I told him.

"People who were born after 1980?" he asked. "Why?"

"It's just weird," I explained. "There are people who are walking around with jobs and families but they weren't born until after 1980. I can't take them seriously."

He agreed and added "people born after 1980" to his list too.

Other people on my "list?"

People who don't take back their carts or throw away trash at the movie theater (I figure they're the same people)

People who jump up at the end of the movie and don't even wait for a little bit of the credits (you can really piss me off at a movie theater).

People who have names that sound like another name. For instance, if your name is Ashlyn. Why not Ashley? Or if your name is Andela...why not Angela? Now I'm just making stuff up. I know this deserves to be on my list but I can't think of anymore examples.

Miracle Babies

Hoarders

Braggers

Ramblers

I better conclude my list before I sound like a curmudgeon (which may be on your list).

Oh, I got it. Yessica. Jellifer. Kelin. You know your names are really Jessica, Jennifer and Kevin. Who are you trying to fool?

Litter Bug Runners

2010-03-21T15:24:00.002-05:00

Today I ran a half marathon--something I haven't done in about four years. It was rainy, hilly and tough but that's not what I want to complain about here. Instead, I want to climb up on my soapbox about litter bug runners.

Why is it acceptable for people running in races (everything from 1-mile-family-fun-runs to marathons) to throw their water/Gatorade cups on the ground?

I'll admit, back when I first started doing races, I threw my cups on the ground. Why? Because everyone else was doing it. I figured it must be okay. And if they're going to pick up all those cups anyway, what's one more?

But I always felt weird about it. I mean, throwing cups on the ground is littering. And I don't litter any other time in my life. Plus, all those cups on the ground make it dangerous for the runners. Surely, there have been casualties that could have been avoided if people could just toss their cups in the available trash cans. And since when is "everyone else is doing it" an acceptable reason to do something?

I bet if I asked the runners around me today why they couldn't put their cups in the trash can I would hear lots of, "It would slow me down!!" I'd have to say, "Dude, you're running at the same pace as I am. You ain't gonna win. You ain't even gonna place in your age group." It's so absurd to see these people grab the water, chug it down really fast and then throw it on the ground like they're competing in the Olympics.

I mean, I can understand if someone like my sister-in-law Julie (who actually does win marathons) needs to throw her cup on the ground. The girl is sprinting through the race so slowing down to throw away a cup could kill her time.

But not the rest of us. In fact, some experts (like Jeff Galloway) recommend walking the water stops in order to achieve a faster time. Now this sounds like a good plan. Walk the water stops and while you're there, throw your cup in the trash can. You might even finish faster.

Oh, and just in case you care: you'll save all the volunteers hours of work cleaning up your mess. Come on, you're not a rock star. And even if you are (like P. Diddy who once ran the NYC marathon), you should still throw away your cup.

I'm proud to say I threw away every cup I used today. I even held on to one for two miles when I couldn't find a trash can.

Here I am, finishing the race...and thinking about how I can't wait to get home and start ranting on my blog!

Financial Lessons from my Credit Card

2010-03-16T09:28:00.004-05:00

When I received my first credit card bill in college, I was stoked to see that I only had to pay $15.00 when I actually spent $120. "This is awsome," I thought. "I'm going to use this credit card for everything!"

Now I know better. But apparently some people don't. That's why my latest credit card statement came with a nifty chart about what happens if you only pay the minimum payment. I'm certain this wasn't Visa's idea. I wish the government had been in the business of bailing out morons back when I was one.

Here's what they taught me:
If you make no additional charges using this card and each month you pay only the minimum, you will pay off the balance in about 19 years and you will end up paying an estimated total of $6,000+.

OR

If you make no additional charges using this card and each month you pay $122.77, you will pay off the balance in about 36 months. And you will end up paying an estimated total of $4,000+.

And then this is the best part. Right under the part about paying over $4,000, they have a little note in parenthesis that says:

(Savings = $2,000+)

Hurray! I just SAVED $2,000!! Now what should we do with all that savings? We could go on a trip! We could go on shopping spree! We could finally afford HBO!

Guess what, Visa. I graduated from college. I know that paying anything less than the total amount due is stupid. And if I can't afford it, I shouldn't have swiped it.

Hey, that's a good line. I gotta tell my buddy Dave Ramsey about that one.

I reckon I'll write a blog

2010-03-08T07:26:00.002-05:00

Every time I see the word "reckon," I think, "Now there's a word you just don't hear enough. I need to try to use it more." So that's what I'm going to do this week--incorporate the word reckon into everyday conversations like:

"Hey, Elsa, what's for dinner?"
"I reckon we'll have some leftovers."

"Who's hosting playgroup this week?"
"I reckon it's your turn."

"Mommy, I eat banana."
"You can eat a banana, I reckon."

What was once a term reserved for hillbillies is now, I think, southern chic. See, it can be fancy too:

"What designer are you wearing?"
"I reckon it's Oscar de la Renta."

"Will you be having the steak or the fish?"
"I reckon seafood sounds really good."

"Are you going to the opera?"
"I'll be there in my Oscar de la Renta gown, I reckon."

I believe there's a place for reckon in business settings too:

"When are you going to get that story to me?"
"I reckon I'll turn it in by the due date."

"What time is the meeting?"
"I reckon it's at 3:00."

"Why do you think I should give you this job?"
"I reckon I'm qualified and I deserve it."
"You? You sound like some red neck."
"No, it's southern chic! I read it on a blog!"

I reckon I may have my work cut out for me.

Things I wish I liked: coupons

2010-03-02T14:43:00.003-05:00

Whenever I go to the store and the cashier says, "Do you have any coupons?" and I say, "No," I feel like he/she is thinking, "Idiot. You've got stains on your clothes. You obviously don't need to pay full price for anything. Are you just too lazy to cut out a few coupons? And while I'm judging you, are you too lazy to change shirts? I know that stain didn't just happen this morning!"

I mean, he/she is right. Coupons save you money. And sometimes stores double and even triple them. I've seen coupon experts on talks shows, explaining how they can get a cart full of groceries for $43. I spent $143 today and my cart was only three-quarters full.

The thing is, I just don't like 'em.

I don't like how you have to cut 'em out. I don't like how they sit around, not expiring. I don't like carrying them to the store and then trying to remember, "Okay, so if I want to use the coupon for pickles then I have to buy three jars to get $.50 off. But do the jars have to be a certain size? And what brand was it again? I guess I'll pull out all my coupons. Damn! I've spilled them all over the floor! I hate coupons! And I hate pickles!"

I've played the coupon game before. I got a little pink organizer and I made labels like "Breakfast," and "Snacks." But I started buying weird things that I would never have bought without coupons--like Pledge wipes and five containers of Parmesan cheese. Plus, how do I know what's a good deal and what's not? Is $.75 off three packs of bologna a great value? More importantly, do I need three packs of bologna?

I hear about people saving money with coupons. They use those websites run by coupon experts that tell them where to find the best deals. And I'm the only person I know who doesn't plan my meals around the weekly sales. I just think, "Hmmm...what sounds good?" and even planning that much takes me too long. I wonder if these coupon-gurus are able to do it without sacrificing their time. Because my time--even though I don't have an actual job--is worth a lot.

Today I did go to my little pink coupon organizer to see if I had a coupon for anything on my list (which I know is the backwards way of doing it). I was pleased when I found ones that had expired. Isn't that sick? I found one that worked and when I went up to check out, I said, "I have a coupon!" I bet he/she was thinking, "Wow. Good for you. Your bill would have been $143.84 but instead it's $143.09. With all that savings you can get a new, unstained shirt."

Coupons: I wish I liked 'em. But I don't.

Accidental Environmentalists

2010-02-22T16:11:00.004-05:00

My late grandma was the first ever environmentalist. No, you probably never saw her at an Earth Day rally or rubbing elbows with Leonardo DiCaprio but trust me, she was green long before Al Gore could even say 'global warming.'

You see, grandma didn't mean to be earth-friendly; she did it all in the name of being cheap. When you visited her house and opened her kitchen cabinets, hundreds of plastic containers once filled with margarine, cottage cheese and sour cream spilled out. She used these to store all the leftovers that she would never, ever throw away. I don't think she owned one piece of Tupperware; she didn't need to. She owned a set of plates but that was just for company. She would reuse the same one all week. If we used a paper plate and it didn't get too dirty, she would reuse that too. I won't get into the stories of her actually taking things out of the trash that she deemed reusable. "I don't waste anything!" she would say. Sounds like an earth-loving mantra, right? Nah, it was all about penny pinching. The green stuff was just a bonus--one I don't think she was even aware of.

My father-in-law is another accidental environmentalist. If you asked him why he keeps the house sweltering hot in the summer and freezing cold in the winter, his response wouldn't be about the planet. It would be about his bill. Why does he water down shampoo, reuse Ziplock bags and pick up things off the side of the road? It's definitely not to "reduce, reuse, recycle." But just like grandma, he's minimizing his carbon footprint.

If you're an AE, good for you. You may think you're just saving green but really, you're saving green. (I think I accidentally came up with a great bumper sticker!)