Check On It, Repeatedly

While I don't talk about it openly, it's not a secret that I struggle with my weight. But I think some mothers do have hard time losing those last twenty or thirty pounds after having a baby.

What I didn't know was that nineteen years would pass, and I'd still be carrying it.

After years of fanning myself with the bathroom scale, I hit my all time non-pregnant high a couple of years ago and stayed mostly steady. Since I wasn't working outside the house, I didn't try hard enough to get healthy. Yoga stretch pants and loose shirts became my standard uniform. I lost all confidence because everything I put on looked horrible.

About the time I decided to get serious, using the MyFitnessPal app, I dropped a couple of pounds and gained a new job. A job that required business attire. And hose. And dress shoes.

Being plus and petite does not make for a good time at the mall. Add in a modest budget that doesn't allow for off-the-rack purchasing, and you'll understand my pain. I managed to put together a halfway decent wardrobe, but I still didn't feel confident in my appearance.

Photo Credit: Google Images

Thankfully, I've dropped just over twenty pounds, and while I feel better physically, clothes are fitting nicer. I feel myself becoming more confident and not wanting to hide beneath draping, unattractive layers.

My current favorite pants are a charcoal grey, cotton, and have a neat but slight sheen to them. They just feel good on. I bought them months prior, even though they didn't fit well, as a goal for myself. Plus they were marked down 75 percent, making them less than ten bucks. I even hemmed them. Myself.

I wore them a couple of weeks ago then I washed them. I agonized whether I should dry them.  They are 98 percent cotton (and oh-so-soft). On the other hand, cotton clothes are a pain-in-the----- to iron out the hung-dry wrinkles.

Convenience won over practicality.

Knowing I was taking a chance on shrinkage, and we are six-days post Thanksgiving, I worried they wouldn't fit today.

They did. With extra room to spare.

(Thank you MyFitnessPal and lack of snacks.)

 I was oh-so-sassy today with my fancy charcoal pants, black cowl-neck sweater, black heels. Hair, despite having been freshly washed, laid perfectly. Cute grey and black dangle earrings completed the ensemble.

I stopped in Target before heading to work. Walked all the way to the back of the store - electronics - then over to peruse the books before leaving. I sashayed my way to the front, feeling slim(mer) and confident. About twenty, maybe forty feet before a checkout lane I noticed a woman just staring at me. I smiled. She continued to stare, not returning the gesture.

 At the end of the main aisle, just before I turned, she finally quit looking my direction, and continued on with her business.

Inside the car, I grabbed the seat belt, and that's when I felt it.

My pants were unzipped.

I suddenly imaged her having a conversation with her friend over coffee:

" You are going to love this. You know that dark-haired chick at the bank? The short one? I don't think she's been there long. Well, I saw her today at Target. Girl was all 'click,click,click' in her noisy little shoes like she owned the place. The whole time her pants are gaping open at the zipper with each step. 'Help me, help me.' I was cracking up. Honestly, how does one forget to zip her pants?" 


My mortification over my discovery lasted about as long as it took for me to post a status on Facebook and get a Diet Coke at Sonic. Within ten minutes, I was at work, sassy and confident.

But the security department probably had a good time watching our cameras today since I probably checked my zipper once or thirty times.

Just in case.



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Life's Bumps

Last Wednesday, I wrote on my Facebook wall that Big Daddy's store would be closing - forever.

For all two of you that read this, you probably already knew this little tidbit.

At the time when I wrote it, the reality of the situation hadn't fully sunken in. Sure, we've worried about money  and we've run around trying to use our medical insurance while we still had it. And  tended to a billion other little details that are too mundane to list out here.

It wasn't until today that I fully felt that hopeless feeling. The what-exactly-are-we-going-to-do feeling.

For the last twenty-three years, he has worked for one company. I've known and been with him for the last fifteen. Our whole life has revolved around his job. It just seems surreal to be starting over.

In the grand scheme of things, there are a lot worse things we could be dealing with right now. If I find myself starting to slip into that woe-is-me place, I try to remind myself of that fact.

This is just a bump in the road.

I hope.





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Out With the Old, In With the New and Improved

Last year, I bid 2010 goodbye with a finger gesture and a swift quick in the pants. 

Apparently that was fuel for the fire as 2011 turned out to be nastier than its predecessor. I  have a few choice words for the things that have happened over the last 364 days, but frankly I'd rather just move on and hope for the best. As Big Daddy says, "It can only go up from here."

He is the eternal optimist. I, on the other hand, being the eternal pessimist, beg to differ. It could get a whole lot worse. At least, that's what I used to say...

Before I wrote this post on perspective, I would have written out a long list of woe-is-me or had some snarky commentary as to the happenings of the past year. It's time to turn over a new leaf. Despite all of the things that happened, all the times we were down to less than a buck in the checking account days before payday, and all the tears that were shed, we survived. In the moment, it felt like crap. If I were being completely honest, there are a few things that still feel crappy, but we will survive.

For all that 2011 offered, the least I can do is look back one last time, be thankful for the good times and for the lessons on how to deal with the bad.

2012, I am ready.


From my family to yours, I'd like to wish you and yours a very happy and healthy New Year.



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Perspective

Earlier today, I found something my husband had hidden from me -- again. The details of what he hid aren't important. I will say that it wasn't anything that would land us in divorce court. His intentions, however skewed, were honorable.

Being the Type-A person that I am, we had a little tiff. We talked it out, fixed the problem to avoid a future issue, and moved on with our day.

Much later, we were looking at crochet patterns for a scarf he wants me to make. After finally finding one that he claimed was not too feminine, I realized the pattern called for a hook that I don't have. I texted my mom to see if she had the right size.

She texted back that she did, but they were leaving for the funeral home. I had not met the man that passed, only his wife. This man, husband to my mom's friend, died suddenly from a heart attack at 56-years-old.

Fifty-six.

My mind can't wrap around that number and what it means. My parents are the same age. My husband is just  nine years his junior. Suddenly, a lot of things came into perspective. Things that may have been an issue at noon don't seem as big of an issue anymore.

More often that not, we get caught up with the little things: who didn't take out the trash, who left water on the bathroom vanity, who didn't refill the toilet paper. In the heat of the moment, the little things take over our day. We spend so much time organizing/cleaning/working/fighting that we don't realize how little time we actually have left.

Realistically, we can't spend our days worrying if this moment is the end. However, sitting on this knowledge of this man's passing, I can't help but feel a sense of deep sadness, a deeper regret over some things that I said to my husband this morning out of hurt and frustration. In the grand scheme of things, the little tiff my husband and I had meant nothing. I have no doubt that my mom's friend would give anything to have her husband one more day, even if they didn't talk at all.

The trash will get taken out. The water will get wiped up. Someone will eventually get out a new roll of toilet paper. Going into the new year, I am not going to take the little things for granted. I am not going to waste another minute worrying over the small stuff. I  just wish that it didn't take the sudden and untimely death of someone I know to bring me the right perspective.


Photo: Flickr, fauxto_digit

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Social Graces

At some point, you shouldn't have to be told what to do.

It's time again to call out those who chose to not follow the social mores that make the world a better place.

Of course, it is possible said people don't even know what a more is:

Said people work for Big Daddy.

An employee is retiring this week. Monies were collected from those who could give in order to purchase a gift. Big Daddy and the deli manager worked together to secretly cook a  lunch for her.

Time came for the surprise luncheon.

The first people in line, who made a beeline for the buffet, did not contribute towards the gifts or cooking efforts.


This is wrong, people.

First of all, guest of honor should go first. Secondly, while no one is going to be presenting tickets proving that he or she contributed to the cause, it would be socially appropriate to those that were not able to contribute to hold back.

I am not saying that just because someone is not in a position to go-in for a gift doesn't deserve to be part of the party, but common decency says that those that were key players should certainly have a chance to go through the line first.

If it was just a coincidental occasion, it would be one thing. But the same people are consistently the first one with their hands out, but have nothing for someone else.

My feelings behind said people have been noted on numerous occasions. And that is probably why I am never invited to participate in such festivities.







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Sometimes It's Better to Forget

Back in the day, I could remember anything. My mind was a steel trap. Well, in complete disclosure, I remembered anything I wanted to remember.

Names, numbers, directions to some locale—it was all there. No need to take notes. Tell me once, and I’d have it.

I can’t remember the exact day that I realized I didn’t remember things like I usually did. I want to say it was somewhere between Nicholas and Darrin being born. Who knows? I can’t remember.

However, I do recall my dad talking about some past event. I looked at him as if it was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard and that he’d made it up. Somehow he managed to jog my memory. In my distress, he said, “Don’t worry. Your brain is like a computer. It dumps things it doesn’t think it needs anymore so you have room for more things. Like the hard drive, it’s not really gone—it just takes some work to dredge it back up.”

Well, alrighty then.

I quit worrying about what I didn’t remember and started to rely on copious notes, my cell phone, and my calendar. It seemed like I still had it all together.

A few nights ago, Big Daddy and I got into a discussion about the exact timeline of events occurring about twelve years ago--almost to the day. It would seem my memories as things unfolded are very different than his memories. I defended my recollections with specific details, countering that I had to be correct. He also had details to back up his argument. Finally I gave in. Having just been hospitalized a few months prior, I thought perhaps my heavy medication regimen at the time skewed my memories.

Only, there seem to be a lot of holes I can’t remember. And don’t know why I don’t remember.

Yesterday, I read a post by Courtney. She and I lived across the street from one another. We didn’t run in the same circles, but we seemed to be friendly towards one another. I am pretty sure she was at my Sweet 16 party.

Her post haunted me.  Here we attended the same small-town high school and the things she described caused me to cry. How could I have been there and not seen it? Or what if I did and blocked it from my memory?

It makes me sad that I can’t remember yet Courtney can’t forget. 

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This may suprise you, but I am normally not one to complain -

Okay, now that you are done laughing and saying, "Yeah, right," let me finish.

I am not one to complain when it comes to calling or emailing companies about poor customer service. That does not mean I won't make snarky comments on Facebook, make a comment in the store, or tell someone else.

Big Daddy usually tells me that I should call/email/complain. But what he forgets is that he will also tell me about customer comments about his store. Those comments are usually petty and unfounded. I don't want to become someone else's dinner converstation. "You won't believe what this woman complained about today...."


On Saturday, I was in a particular* store that visit at least once a month. It is not unusual to have poor customer service at this location, but I tend to overlook it. Or make a comment directly to the offending person.  This time, I couldn't couldn't let the rudeness slide. I did make a comment to the offending person, and then left my buggy** sitting up front and walked out. Later that evening, I emailed the corporate office and declared this store dead to me.

I felt better by and honestly thought nothing would happen.

______________

"I bet she is trying to get somethin' for nothin'.

Monday a.m. : A reply to my email was in my inbox. My original email was being sent on to the retail services.

Monday 2:30 p.m.: District Manager called to get more information. He gave me his direct number, the name of that store's general manager, and is sending me a gift certificate. He apologized no less than five times for my experience.

Monday 3:45 p.m.: Store Manager called to apologize. He assured me that the associates involved had been addressed as well as other problems associated with that store. Entire call lasted one minute according to my phone. He even questioned as to why I didn't come to him directly.  
______________

I get the sneakin' suspecion that I just become someone's conversation fodder.

I considered going back to the store dependent on how the store manager's call went. But now? I won't be back.


*The actual name is not essential here. 
**Southern translation; buggy -noun: a rolling recepitcal used to contain items one wishes to purchase in a store. syn: shopping cart, carriage, handcart, gig, dolly, pushcart.

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Thank you for calling. I am out of the office today...

Good Monday morning!

This morning I was excited to find out that a post I submitted is up at ...And Nobody Told Me.

You can read my post, "...that I'd give up control," here.

 Special thanks to Lerner for helping me get it out there. :)




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Stop the Clock

When my boys were little, I made an error.

A HUGE error.

It would be hard to pinpoint exactly what caused me to have such a lapse in rational, adult-like judgment. Nevertheless, I did it and there is no going back.

I wished they would get older. I couldn't wait.

Of all the wishes I had made in my life, I am not sure why THIS one had to come true. But for that one moment or twelve that I was exasperated with all manner of sippy cups, diapers, and other various and sundry tasks that sap the energy of a mother, I managed to conjure up enough superpower to cause time to fast- forward.

This seems to be a one-way trip with no refunds, no take-backs and no do-overs.

How else can I explain how two days ago I was changing a diaper on one, trying to keep another from destroying the house, while the oldest was watching "Pinky and the Brain"? Because yesterday while the oldest was sitting in the living room while we ordered her Senior pictures, the other two were stuck on the school bus that was parked on the side of the road waiting for the police to show up.

(In order to protect the not-so-innocent, I will not disclose WHY the police were called. I will say that thankfully no one was hurt, and it wasn't because of my boys.)

Of all the advice I was given as my children were growing up, the one piece that sticks out in my mind is, "Enjoy them while they are young."

I always thought the very idea was crazy. While we were in the moment, a day seemed like it strung out for a week. Enjoy it? What exactly was I supposed to be enjoying?!?

As  have finally approached middle age, I understand all the hoopla  now. Back when I was still a toddler myself, yet ironically seemed to have more patience, I thought life would just be better when the boys were older.

Older, as in the ages they are now.

My boys are twelve and ten. The youngest will be eleven in April. They are in sixth and fifth grades and I love this age. To a point...

(My actual favorite age is fourth grade, but that is neither here nor there.)

Instead of diapers, sippy cups, annoying cartoon characters/children's programming and complete and utter control over their lives, I traded it all in for unpredictable hormones, insatiable hunger, Star Wars, and compromise that will make all parties happy.

Most of the time, I am not regretting my wish for them to get older. Only between 6:00-6:10 A.M., 3:25-4:00 P.M., 8:30-8:45 P.M, and when they ask, "What's for breakfast/lunch/dinner?" or "What can I have for a snack?" do I think, "What in the world did I do?"

I love that they have an actual opinion about social issues. I love that they are interested in politics. I love that they are curious about the world and can't wait to learn more. I love that we can talk and have a real, actual conversation.

I knew when they got older, there would be issues that would be hard. And I have had to have some hard conversations with them way before I ever dreamed I would.

It's one thing to say something like, "There may be some kids at school that _______ and this is how you deal with ___________."

It is completely different to have a conversation about the hard topics when it involves a child in their grade.

While I still have the time, I plan on enjoying every minute. One bird will be leaving the nest later this year. As much as I really, REALLY don't want her to go, she is ready. My other two chicks are going to have to slow down.

I am not ready to let them fly just yet.




 




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For the Love of One Day

I don't really understand all the hoopla behind this day: February 14th.

Sure, some call it Valentine's Day. Stores are draped in red and pink crape, with cases of candies, stuffed animals, and long racks of cards ready for purchase to tell that special someone how much you love them.

But have you noticed that most of the stores have the same things that fall into the Valentine theme? So, where is the surprise in that?

It's not that I am bitter about this holiday, although I used to be back in my younger days. I have also seen the stress this day causes people. I used to work as a merchandiser for a major greeting card company. I was required to work on Valentine's Day. And Target was one of my accounts.....

Let's just say I have seen more civilized people on Black Friday at Walmart.

My husband and I have been together for fourteen years. We have never celebrated Valentine's Day, per se. We may have eaten out a time or two and said, "This is for Valentine's Day." After all of our time together, it isn't this day's proclamation of love that I remember, it's the other days.

• When he brings me a Route 44 Sonic Diet Coke without me asking. 
• When he picks up the Sunday paper so that I don't have to go out. 
• When he sneaks out of bed and gets the boys ready for school so I can sleep for an extra hour.
• When he brings me three tea rose plants and a Christmas cactus because they went on clearance and he knows I like them. 
• When he brings me coupons that are only found in the store. 

And the list could go on.

Through the years, we have went through three moves, two births, five store re-locations, the brink of foreclosure, mental illness, three hospital stays (beyond giving birth), and three major surgeries.I quit working full-time to go back to college. We are in debt up to our ears. We haven't had a vacation in four years with none in sight for the future. But, we have a roof over our head, two vehicles that run and are paid for, generally good health, and plenty of laughs.

If even after all that (and it's been candy-coated for the faint of heart) and  we still want to be together, then I can't think of any bouquet of flowers, heart-shaped box of candy, or red and pink stuffed bear that is going to define his love for me any better. And vice-versa.

Our "Valentine's Day" happen on random days throughout the year.  We believe that the surprise and small token of love is more meaningful when it isn't expected.

If you happen to love the idea of Valentine's Day, by all means, don't let us ruin your party. Go ahead and have fun! Tonight, while you all are waiting for a table, or trying to grab a card and box of candy at the last minute, we'll have supper at home and then go and get our taxes done.

Because nothing says love better than dishpan hands and a federal tax refund. 



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Don't tell me you weren't warned

Dear Future-Daughter-In-Laws:

I am telling you this now, so that you may prepare yourselves. I do not want calls made in haste asking me such things as why he pees everywhere even if he puts the seat up. And for the love of all that is good, DO NOT believe him when he says, "Well, my mom always did it for me."

Unless he follows up the sentence with, "...when I was two," it is with 100% certainty that he has told you a lie.

True, I have failed as a mother in some aspects. However, it can not be said that I didn't try. I thought I was going to break the mold and raise two fine young men that broke all the stereotypes associated with men.

Here is the truth and it's two-fold:
1. All things "man-like" is genetic trait, and
2. The buckeye doesn't fall far from the tree.

Don't get me wrong: he can be sweet. He'll flash those baby blues/dark browns and give a little blink, and you'll feel like you'll fall into puddle of jelly. Be firm! This is only a tactic! This is exactly how he will try to get around things.

Other common phrases I like to call, The Cop-Outs:

• "I didn't hear you."
• "Oh, I forgot."
• "I was waiting for a commercial."
• "I thought you meant tomorrow."
• "Are you sure you told me?"
• "I don't remember having that converstation."
• "Oh. I was sleeping."

Invest in a tape recorder, notebook that can fit in your purse, a good pen (ballpoint-no pencils, they break), note cards, post-its, calender (NO DRY ERASE), and a second set of eyes and ears.

There will be some good times. He'll bring you a Diet Coke or some M&Ms when you are feeling blue. (Just an example; your feel good items may vary from mine.) He will call you on his way home from work. He may even offer to cook dinner.

Again, while these are the niceties,  you have to shovel a lot of crap to find a tiny diamond.

It will be rare that the dirty clothes will make it to the hamper. If you don't get into a habit of picking them up, he'll do better about getting turned in a timely manner.

It will be rare that a dirty dish gets put into an empty dishwasher. The male mind can wrap his mind around the possibility that it is OKAY to put one plate inside. They would rather that the sink is overflowing first.

He will always know where things are kept. Even if you moved them. However, he will NOT remember where he got said item. Male memory is selective.

Same thing with hearing. He heard you. He wasn't listening. There is a difference (to him).

The words that are coming out of his mouth may not be exactly what he means. The exceptions to this rule are: money, sports figures, food, and well, let's not discuss that here.

 All in all, he is not a bad catch. Not that I am prejudiced or anything. I just want you to know what you are getting into. Don't tell me later you weren't warned.

Love always,
Your MIL
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How Much Are You Worth?

Big Daddy and I were having a conversation in the car Sunday and the topic turned into our life insurance policy.

Anyway, I am not sure how we got all morbid and what-have-you, but I  said something like, "I guess if and when I ever start making any money that significantly adds to the household income, I'll take out a policy. But I am getting old. It'll be more expensive."

OH! I remember why were talking. I was telling him about a commercial that I saw that had advertised ridiculously low rates for a term policy. I'd mention the website, but you know. Web crawlers and all.

And I can say this with some authority, because I used to have my license for life insurance. Actually, I still HAVE the license, but it is expired.

(Yes, I know what you are thinking. Jane of all trades...master of NONE).

(I think the only career paths I haven't considered are police work and garbage collection.)

So if you see this commercial that offers sixteen dollars a month for women and less than twenty-five for a man aged forty-two and a non-smoker, um. No. That's pretty unlikely. Not impossible, but unlikely.

Okay, I really do have a point. There is something that I never considered until the other day:

We purchased a term life insurance policy on my husband years ago. All-in-all, it's relatively inexpensive, however, we could save some money if we canceled it. But I am hesitant. If (KNOCK ON WOOD) something were to happen to him, the policy protects our family. While it is another expense, it holds some comfort to know we'd be okay in a catastrophic event.

We do not have a policy on me. I never felt like it was important because I don't contribute that much to the household income.

BUT.

AND THIS IS A BIG BUT.

I do have some value. Monetarily speaking, that is.

If something (AGAIN, KNOCKING ON WOOD) should happen to me, my husband would be lost and his expenses would go up while the boys are still young.

I take care of everything domestic like:

• buying groceries
• bill paying
• clothes purchasing ( I know for a fact he doesn't know what sizes they wear)
• grooming (hair cuts and the like)
• taking them to the library
• signing school papers
• getting them ready to go to school
• being home when they get home
•  taking them to events at school
• being involved with school
• knowing who their friends are
• how much and what kind of medicine they can take
• etc. 

Just in child care alone, I save him a ton of money.

It's not that my husband is a sexist pig and expects me to take care of the chil'ren. It just worked out that way. He has the salaried job that takes him away a minimum of fifty-five hours a week. I have always worked to accommodate the children.  He would reverse roles if I had the job.

Moms (and Dads-we are all politically correct up in here), if it is financially feasible, it would be befitting for  your spouse to take out a term life policy.

Term policies are great because:

• they are only for a set term, typically 15-20 years. About the age you would be more financially stable.
• the premiums are inexpensive because the insurer is betting it WON'T pay out.
• should you need to collect death benefits, your family collects the full face value. Tax-free with no annuities.

 Think about it, how MUCH are you worth?

Disclaimer:  The preceding commentary was for your information only. I have not been contacted by any company to promote or endorse any products. The content contained herein is solely for your consideration. Please contact a currently licensed insurance agent to gather more details. However, you are free to email me with questions. 







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Free your mind, the rest will follow

Question(s) of the day:

What one thing have you not done that you really want to do? What’s holding you back?

Tough call

Question of the Day:

You’re having lunch with three people you respect and admire. They all start criticizing a close friend of yours, not knowing she is your friend. The criticism is distasteful and unjustified. What do you do?

Dear John-Snow:

It's not you; it's me.

In the beginning, it seemed like a good idea. I thought of you longingly back in July. You don't know this, but Heat is unbearable-- smothering, suffocating, shameless.

I broke it off with Heat because it was you that I desired. However, I don't think I fully understood what you were bringing to the party.

Living in the South, I really thought we'd be a good match. You'd trickle in unexpectedly, quietly and softly, leaving little trace of your existence.

Perhaps I misunderstood?

I was not prepared for this type of commitment. My life has been turned upside down. I feel as though you are mocking me.

It's just not going to work.

After finally getting out of a pretty intense relationship with Heat, I am still scrambling to fix the mess that was left behind.

You said you understood and promised you wouldn't do the same.

And yet, here we are.

We had a good couple of months, but I just can't take anymore.

I think we should just be friends. I am sorry.

Love,
Me

P.S On second thought: It's not me. It's YOU.

If you write it on Facebook, they will see it

It is 10:09 P.M. as I start this post. I should have started at 10:09 (or earlier) this morning, but as everything else in my life, those plans went awry.

Anyway, I have a lot of thoughts that I just need to get out in the open. Why I feel the need to do it in an open forum escapes me, but alas, here we are.

I totally ended that last sentence with a verb. A "to be" verb at that. It's grammatically incorrect, and I can live with it for the moment.

________________________

1. Thank you for the input on my new bloggy design. I really like it, but the colors do tend to distract me from time to time. Not that I am looking at my own front page that often, but I don't want anyone not to read because of the design. There have been blogs in the past that I wouldn't return to because I didn't like the design.

Having said that, don't be concerned if it changes....

2. Jennifer Weiner (link opens to her blog) is my hero. She is my inspiration. She is the writer I wish I was. Anyway, I follow her on Twitter. She blogs live every Monday night comments about the "Bachelor." Hilarious. She made two other comments to which I directly tweeted her a comment. While she did not respond, I secretly hoped she would. It may be good she didn't. I would have fallen over dead. And apparently Big Daddy needs my income. The sad pittance it may be....

Now that I think about it, I should probably put some sort of clause in our will stating that should I ever have the chance to communicate with Ms. Weiner, no matter the method, and I find, or rather he finds me dead, HE is NOT allowed to sue her for pain and suffering or any other manner of remuneration he may pick up on one of those judge shows.


3. Yesterday, I had the meeting with a Girl Scout Troop. I was over prepared but not nervous at all! It helped that I knew the girls from school.

Two things I learned from the meeting:
-Be cautious of any thing your post as your status on Facebook. On Saturday, I posted: "Just had a meeting with the small folks. I am resigning as "The Maid" and promoting myself to "The Queen." One of the troop leaders that also happens to be one of my friends said, "So how is being the Queen going?"

At first I was in a panic--she didn't make a comment on that post! I answered her, laughed and moved on.

(It's going well, so far.)

Later, I was passing out business cards to the girls. I told them that if they thought of questions later, they were more than welcome to email me. Even if it was about homework. One girl, whom I had taught when she was in fourth grade said, "How fast do you respond? Are you online a lot?"

I was starting to spit out, "Yes. For work, a lot of time is spent online blah blah blah..." when the other troop leader whom is also my friend on FB said rather frankly, "Yeah. She's online a lot."

Um. Yeah. Alrightly then.


4. There is a long standing argument, not in an ugly way, between Big Daddy and me. While I love that he is my number one fan, his positivity (on this particular subject) grates on my last good nerve. There is going to come a time that one of us will be the victor. Secretly, I hope I win; that means I will have met my writing goals. However, it would seem of late that HE is actually going to be wrong.

It will kill us both (strictly emotionally speaking) if he wins.

I guess we'll see.

Thanks for listening. I know this post is about as clear as mud. Which should give you a clear idea the sheer thickness of thoughts running through my mind at the moment.

An Old Gal Learns New Tricks

This past week has been a strange week for me. But in hindsight, it has actually been quite good. The dirty laundry might disagree, but we are not on speaking terms at the moment, so I don't care.

The following is a listing of things I have done for the first time this week:
(Author's note: Items are not listed in a particular order. Willy-nilly is the theme.)

• I was contacted to speak to a Girl Scout Troop about writing. This will be my very first public speaking assignment for professional reasons.
  
• Bought some materials to learn to knit, "With two sticks", as Darrin puts it. I have managed to cast-on!
  
• Went into a store to secretly shop and test customer service for a particular product. I can't really talk about this much...it has to remain a mystery. Shhh...
• Was disappointed that school was canceled four days in a row. (They were out yesterday, too, but it didn't bother me.) In the not-so-distant past, I would have whooped and hollered for the chance to sleep in.
  
• Ordered a Unanimous Decision at Moe's rather my usual Funkmeister with Sour Cream. (Sorry, Moe's. I refuse to call it an Overachiever.)
• I learned to make a button for my blog. Here are some rough drafts:

I know. I still have a long row to hoe.

• FINALLY learned what the idiom, "One in the hand is worth two in the bush," means. Thank you, Geico.
• Downloaded Gimp, Picnik, and Picasa. Picnik and Picasa are photo editing software programs that you can download for the low bargain basement price of FREE! While Picnic has more fun features and I am currently obsessed, I really like Picasa for the simple stuff.
• Stepped on the scale and then stepped off. Moved it, reset it, and stepped on it again. Cried. reached highest non-pregnant weight-ever.
  
• Picture this: Darrin is sitting behind me, I am not sure what he is doing. He asks me to spell a word. I spell, "a-l-o-u-d." He is quiet for a few minutes and then holds up a sign he made for his door. It reads, "Horses Aloud!" I never thought to ask which aloud/allowed he wanted to spell....
• Called my neighbor to borrow an ingredient needed to make meatloaf.
• Made a mock-version of Olive Garden's Chicken and Gnocchi soup. I even made the gnocchi from scratch.
• Made a recipe from this website. The next day she was was on "Good Morning America." For some reason, I felt like one of my friends was on. (Note: link will take you directly to the soup I made.)

All of this "new" stuff is on top of my regular work load. No wonder I am behind.

How was your week?

A Word About Certain Words

Yesterday on "The View," Whoopi Goldberg made mention that Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn was being re-written to remove any use of two specific words.

An article discussing the same subject can be found here. The article also details those specific words, in case you weren't aware.

I immediately knew I wanted to write about this, but I chose to sit on it for a day. Off and on, I was thinking about how I really feel about this.

My first reaction, which is also my current reaction, is that the entire project shouldn't be done. Who is to say that any words that are used in the text are wrong and should be omitted?

Oh, wait. The same people that choose to ban that very book out of libraries years ago.

My complaint is two-fold:

1. If the powers that be felt that the book was unfit to be read, how is their "power of speech" more right than Mark Twain's?

2. How can a book be changed as not to offend anyone with certain words yet the very words in question are an integral part of history?

Sure, we don't use these specific words in daily conversation. But we don't use other words either and some of those words may offend those they reference. Remember the term "politically correct?"

Should someone go through and rewrite any book that references policemen, firemen, secretaries, or handicapped?

From the moment someone begins to understand language, he or she could be offended by a word or two. An educated person can look past certain nuances. An educated person should be able to read the context clues. This skill is taught as early as Kindergarten.

We teach our children from early on that certain words are not acceptable. There are certain words that used to be censored from television, but now are as common as one would say leg, dog, or cat. However, the words that are still censored or not used on television can still be heard or seen. Words that I may not allow at my house may be just fine at yours. For example, we made "shut-up" a bad word. But that is for us, in our home.

My point is this: The first Amendment gives us freedom of speech; however, that seems to be a bit of a misnomer.

You can't yell fire in a crowded room. You can't say anything that can will cause harm to another person (slander). You can't write anything that could cause harm to another person (libel). In various situations, it is just understood that certain language is not acceptable, such as a teacher in a classroom.

But, even with our limits when it comes to words, that doesn't mean words that aren't accepted for general use anymore have to be erased as the times change.

I have never said the n-word. I heard it when I was growing up (not a lot), but I never liked it. As an adult, I chose never to use it, even in private conversation or writings that would that would be contextually correct. But does that mean that I am right?

No.

There are other words that I don't like and won't use. I could become offended and find a few hundred people to back me up and have any literature banned that contains those words. Or request that books be written so that I may not be offended.


No, we don't have freedom of speech in the literal sense, but we certainly to have freedom of opinions.

And in my opinion, Huck Finn needs to be left alone. Should the author go ahead with this project, I am reassured that I still have my copies with the original text, tucked safe on the bookshelf so that my boys may have the same experience of a rich novel that I did.

For the Love of Reading

Studies indicate that children raised in homes where the adults are readers have a better chance of becoming readers themselves.

Of course, it helps if the child has a desire to read. Some simply don't.

My daughter has read exactly two books in her seventeen years that was strickly for pleasure. Both of those were the year before last and part of the Twilight series. She is an Honors student in English (and math and science, too, but I am not going to brag about that.) but will tell me with no uncertain terms, books are boring and a waste of time.

If she didn't look exactly like me, I'd consider getting her DNA tested.

My youngest has always LOVED books. It would be hard to say how many words I have read to him. Now as he is older, I will occasionally read to him or even with him, but his own reading time comes in hits in misses. He still loves books, but he has a processing disorder, so reading for pleasure isn't quite the same for him. We're getting there!


My middle child has never really been a fan of books. As he got older, he would pick some books out at the library, both school and public, but not read them all the way if at all.

Then he discovered Star Wars books. He couldn't get enough, and I couldn't keep up with the demand.

While I was glad he was reading, after about a year or so, I started to get concerned he would not ever pick up another kind of book. And ultimately end up an adult with no social skills except with others at the Sci-Fi convention and living in our basement.

We don't have a basement. Or livable attic.


Then in fifth grade, a magical thing happened. It wasn't major change, but it helped. Through the power of peer- written book reports, he found a new world of books.

Now, he'll read an occasional Star Wars book, but he has added:
The 39 Clues (series)
Diary of a Whimpy Kid
Harry Potter
The My Name is America series
and other various children's fictional writings. Currently, he is reading Freak the Mighty-- suggested by me. He has already mentioned wanting to read the sequel, Max the Mighty.

We frequent three public libraries. When it is time to go, he usually has a book or two in mind that he would like to get (despite my best efforts to subtly recommend some classic or "boy" series), and then he always spends his most time in the non-fiction section.

His fiction may vary. Right now he is in a 39 Clues, Harry Potter, and graphic novel phase. (superheroes- Batman, Superman, Spiderman)

His non-fiction selections never fail to impress me. This past Sunday, I found him at the computer trying to find some books. I asked him what he was looking for. He said, "Knights. I want to read about knights."

We found the section and he picked out a few on knights and a couple that talked about the Renaissance.

Other non-fiction subjects over time have been the following:
Vietnam War
Army
Navy
Marines
World War I and II
Holocaust
Military Weaponry
Abraham Lincoln (his favorite President)
Revolutionary War
Civil War

Just last night he was flipping the channels on the TV and "American Experience" was just coming on PBS. He said, "Oh! The Ulysses S. Grant one. I was wanting to watch that."

And he did. The entire hour and a half.

I mentioned to my husband that it tickles me pink the choices he makes to read. Seriously, it cracks me up. But obviously other kids want to learn about those things, too, or the books wouldn't have been written geared toward them.


He's growing up fast, though. Before you know it, I'll be writing about straightening up in his room, picked up a book about some historical event, and a special magazine was hidden inside and fell out, opening to the centerfold.

Just as long as he still reads the articles, right?

On the Menu: Crow and Humble Pie

Perhaps it is ironic.

No, that would be incorrect usage.

Is it a paradox?

Um, I am not sure.

Whatever it is, I couldn't hear the laughter for all my self-promotion and horn tootin'.

After all my talk about grammar, mechanics, and usage, this morning I got a big smack in the face. There are some areas of mechanics that I have to focus on and really think about when proofreading anything. But for the last six months, I have been reading grammar books like other people read the latest release off the Best Seller's List.

I thought that I had reviewed areas I had forgotten, learned things I never knew, and strengthened skills I was already using.

And then, the unthinkable happened.

This morning, after logging onto one of the content providers I write for, a new section calling for proofreaders opened up. I knew this element was coming, and I was excited for it. In order to be granted access, a ten-question test has to be passed with a 90% or better. Those receiving a failing grade can re-test three months from the test date.

So, I took the test.

And in three months I can try again.

In the meantime, I will be spending some time studying and taking some tests.
Interactive Online Grammar Exercises - English Grammar Connection
BBC - Skillswise - Words - Grammar
Basic Skill Practice Games
Grammar and Punctuation | The Blue Book of Grammar and Punctuation

Since I started this post, I had to go into the forum of the content site to find a link. Others started a thread stating that they had not passed the test either. Hmm...interesting.

This shall be the next-to-last time I mention the blatant misuse of someone's grammar or mechanics.

Here it goes:

As seen on a banner for a new business opening in town, "So-and-So's Thrift Shop. Now accepting ladie's clothes...."

As seen in my own bureau drawer, a returned envelope addressed to "The Manco's."

Oh yes, I did.