Thursday, February 25, 2010

Sometimes Karma's a ....

Dear SeaWorld,

I’m sorry to hear about your loss (of revenue). But you know what they always say~

“Put a giant fish in a tiny tank for a really long time and you get what you get.”

Yours Truly,
A woman who thinks zoos suck and whales have feelings too

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

See, I can too be open-minded. So there.

Everyone knows how I feel about that one store. But just to show you all that my mind is not completely shut like a steel trap, I read this today and….


It’s very interesting. I will have to follow this development and, you know, see what develops.

Monday, February 22, 2010

It’s really too bad my window for gold medal greatness has closed.

I can’t believe I haven’t written anything in more than a week.

It’s not because I haven’t wanted to but I have this thing, this problem, this…….migraine from HELL that doesn’t seem to want to go away. It must be a lot of fun INside my head, sadly this translates to not much fun OUTside my head. It’s keeping me from having coherent thoughts and also from doing anything at all that is not absolutely required. Whine, whine, whine, right?  I'm not dead yet.

On the other hand it’s been a great excuse to lie around all day watching the Olympics. I love the Olympics. I love the way there is a tale of triumph over adversity for every competitor. I’ve always had a secret dream to be a triumhpant Olympian, telling my story of how I overcame all of my obstacles to win gold. I would have been so inspiring.

For example, there's this-Once when I was in the 4th grade a friend and I were playing wiffle ball in my back yard. After a while my friend decided she didn’t like the rules we were using (I can’t say for sure, but I was possibly\probably not using the official wiffle ball federation guidelines), we exchanged a few harsh words and she decided it was close enough to dinner time to call it a day.

I became desperate, not only was this my one and only chance to play a sport with a bat, my mother having decided that because I was a.) a girl and b.) not very coordinated, that I was not allowed to play Little League like my brothers, but also my friend’s way cool teenage sister happened to be tanning on the roof of their house next door and I just knew if she could see how mature and athletic I was she would want me for a best friend and I would finally be free from the endless social torture known as “being the new girl in the 4th grade” and move on to the enviable position of "the girl with cool older friends".

I begged, I pleaded, I told her we could play by her rules, but she was done. Wiffle ball was dumb and she wanted to go home. She just did not understand or care about my dreams of being the best wiffle ball player in the world. Such a heartless little girl. As she walked away I took a look to make sure her sister was still frying in the afternoon sun and shouted a line from an inspirational story we had recently read at school about a boy who went on to win...something....I think.

“Quitters never win!” I cried. There! She would have to come back. No one wants to be a losing quitter, right?

The tanning sister lifted her head briefly to see what the commotion was, turned up her boom box and went back to her Teen Beat magazine; my friend didn’t even look back.

Thus ending my dreams of wiffle ball greatness and a post victory interview with Bob Costas, and securing my socially awkward role of "dorky new girl who shouts weird things" for months to come.  Okay, years to come.

Ps~The drywall is finally DONE!! Painting to start today.

Friday, February 12, 2010

So close, yet so very far away.

Would it seem terribly ungrateful and selfish of me to complain about the fact that the drywall in our addition area was not finished on time, thus leaving me without a bedroom even LONGER?  It was supposed to be done last weekend and painted by the end of this weekend, but our drywaller realised too late that he had bid the job badly and has now put our job in the "I'll get to it when I can" column so he can work on jobs he did not bid badly and will make a profit from, leaving us in limbo.  Frankly I couldn't care less if his numbers were off, he needs to eat the loss and finish my bedroom.  I would like to fire him.  Sadly these decisions are not up to me.

We have been re-promised that this will be our lucky weekend. 

I'm not holding my breath.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Party on Garth.

Sometimes I feel like there's a whole world out there I know nothing about.

At Borders on Saturday I saw this-
An entire section of magazines devoted to marijuana.  I was surprised for a couple of reasons. 

First of all, duh! Really?! You're just going to walk into Borders and buy a magazine about pot? I guess you can't really have a subscription can you?  What if your mom beats you to the mailbox?  Dude, that would suck.

Secondly, who thinks of this stuff and what new information could they possibly have to share month after month? Are they interviewing stoners?  "Yeah, so, uh, I like to, uh, keep my supplies in my, uh, sock drawer.  I keep the socks all, uh, messy so if anyone were to, uh, yank it open they wouldn't notice my, uh, bong right away." Is there a recipe section? "Beyond Brownies-This Month Learn How to Enhance Your Pudding!" 

I should've taken a look, but since right next to High Times were the Maxim and Hooters magazines (again, really?! Hooters has a magazine? Wha..? "Early in my career as a Hootette I felt a little objectified, but I got over it, I mean the tips are really good.  And now that I've found a spray tanner that's less orange, my shorts look really hot.") I felt like I really should get my teenage sons out of there as quickly as possible. Which has never happened before "Come on boys, we're getting out of this bookstore NOW!"

I have this image in my mind of a couple of guys sitting on a scratchy old plaid sofa in someone's parent's basement, and on the old milk crates that they use for a coffee table are some recreational drug periodicals as well as an issue of Hooters, maybe an old National Geographic or two.  I picture one of them leaning forward, through the smoky haze to take a look at the Girls of the Southwest issue and ask "Dude, do you think those are real?" Snort.


Sunday, February 7, 2010

It's a special day

SuperBowl Sunday

We've been invited to a friends house for a party, I'd really be happier sitting at home reading a book, but there's no way our kids would go for that.  Without fail every year one of our kids asks us if church is shorter on Superbowl Sunday. (Because dangit, when they have a church they will give people the time they need to fully enjoy football spiced up with goofy commercials!)

How are you spending the day? At home? At a party? Shoveling your snow packed driveway?

Friday, February 5, 2010

Boy, I do go on, don't I?

A few things that weren’t quite long enough for a post of their own, but are more than 140 characters~

I have to start today with this: You all know that there’s not really a mean girl in my Sunday School class, right? My husband is very worried that someone from the class is going to read yesterday’s post and assume that they are the mean girl. Of course that would mean that a) people actually read what I write and b) are so paranoid that they think they’re mean and c) don’t understand that I have to take certain fact bending liberties in the race to be sensationally and sarcastically entertaining. Have I disclaimed now? I repeat. NO MEAN GIRL. Unless you count me, which you should feel totally free to do.

Speaking of mean, yesterday I was at my son’s soccer practice hanging out (because you have to hang out. It’s a rule-“Soccer practice is NOT a babysitting service. Parents should remain at the location for the duration of practice and be prepared to help if needed.”) Anyway, I was sitting in my car with my window down, because it was a lovely day, trying to read a book, when I couldn’t help but overhear from the car next to me, because she had her window down too, a woman having a conversation on her phone. It went like this-“The only problem is that our stake only does baptisms twice a month, and her birthday is on the 20th so she’s scheduled for the 2nd one, but it’s on Pioneer Day.” (Pioneer Day is a Mormon Holiday that celebrates, well, pioneers. You can read about it here. I hear it’s a pretty big deal in Utah, but I’ve never noticed it stopping traffic around these parts.) “Can you believe that? It’s stupid. I’m going to ask if they can just do her baptism separate. They always say you need a pretty dang good reason for a special request, I’m going to try anyway. I mean, Pioneer Day, why would they do that? I’m not trying to be a bitch but……..” It’s obvious she’s one of the lucky few that doesn’t have to try. I tried not to listen, because a) it was none of my business and b) I was trying to read and c) it was none of my business, but I couldn’t help it because a) she was talking kind of loud and b) she might not have wanted to, but she was kind of being a bitch.

Oh my gosh. Don’t tell my husband I just said all that. I’ll be disclaiming all next week if he finds out.

Speaking of stupid, I got an e-mail from my dad that included both Tweety Bird in his p.j.s and Jesus on the beach. Looks like Jesus has taken a break from his vacation to stop by my computer again. Don’t get me wrong, I love having him trapped in my computer so often, but I would think he’d have better things to do with his time than hang out with cartoon birds in my computer all day, for that matter I would think my dad would have better things to do with his time too. Honestly. That’s the sort of thing I expect to get from my mother. Has the whole world gone mad?

Speaking of going mad, was that mean of me to spill my son’s “stuff” the other day? Maybe. Maybe not. I’ve laughed about it, and cried about it, and convinced myself I’m the worst mother in the world over it. At this point though I’ve pretty much moved on. (My husband on the other hand has only laughed and not really taken it personally at all, perhaps he’s the problem here, eh?). Stupid as it may seem blogging is how I vent. I write it, I post it, I get over it. Also, thanks to Karen’s comment we decided to let the solitary confinement at school be the lone consequence, I’ve met her son, he turned out okay. I don’t need to go yanking open lockers and being humiliated by a picture of Christ staring at my judgmental self. He’s already hanging around my in-box all the time trying to catch me being foolish (which doesn’t take much effort considering how often I’m a fool).

Speaking of fools, I don’t like it when “artists” put tracks of “spoken word” on their albums (is that what we're calling them these days? Albums?). It creeps me out a little bit. Aside from that though, I’m really enjoying Alicia Keys new “album”.~To be clear, I don't think Alicia Keys is a fool, I think spoken word tracks are foolish.  Just sing me a song already.

Speaking of musicians, is this a joke? Because I didn’t think he could even speak in complete sentences, yet someone expects me to believe he wrote a book?! Come on now. Maybe it’s a picture book.

Speaking of books, President’s Day is in February, did you know that? When I was a girl, back in the olden days we called it Lincoln’s birthday. I grew up in Kentucky and we used to go to Lincolns birthplace fairly often. I got my first Lincoln book when I was about 12. It was Carl Sandburg’s Abraham Lincoln. If you haven’t read it you should. I also recommend Doris Kearns Goodwin’s Team of Rivals. Right now I’m reading Manhunt; by James L. Swanson about the assassination of Lincoln and hunt for John Wilkes Booth, it’s pretty good. If you like that sort of thing, which of course I do.

I feel so much better will all of that off my chest. Thanks for listening.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

When will they learn it's better to just leave me in the foyer?

My husband and I were asked to take part in the Marriage and Family Sunday School class at church. You may or may not remember, but the last time we took part in a “special” class at church it wasn’t exactly my cup 'o tea. It’s possible I don’t have the right attitude towards these here focus classes.

At first I was like “What makes them think WE need to be in THAT class?!” Then I was like “Maybe it’s because we are such a fine example of marital bliss.” Now I think they just needed a few more couples so that one mean girl would feel out numbered when she started complaining about her husband. EVERY WEEK.

A couple of weeks ago the lesson was on speaking kindly.

I so totally could have TAUGHT that class!

Ok, not really. I don’t think I’m terribly mean, but I’m not exactly what you would call “sensitive” and I can be a teensy bit, well, I think I’m witty, but I think I heard a rumor once that some people think I’m a little snarky-(I’m pretty sure those girls were just jealous of my masterful use of irony) The upside of that is that I don’t expect my husband to be romantic, which I think most men would agree is a fair trade, right?

Anyway, I wasn’t too worried until our teacher asked if we knew what one of the worst ways of communicating was. Naturally I raised my hand to say “Grunting. Duh.” (Not really, I haven’t raised my hand in class since the 3rd grade, I still think grunting is wrong, just not wrong enough to get me to raise my hand in Sunday School).


I have to tell you, I started squirming a little when she told us all how hurtful sarcasm can be, and how there’s always a little kernel of truth in a sarcastic remark, and if there was one thing we should all banish from our relationships it’s sarcasm.

You guys, sarcasm is my love language. It’s also my force field and light saber all rolled into one. She’s right about the kernel of truth thing, and I suppose she’s right, that used by someone who’s not a Jedi master (like myself), it can be hurtful, but GIVE IT UP? Hmm.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it for, you know, like an hour.

What if I only used a soft voice? What if I cut out all of the cracks and started being sincere? What if …..?

Well, first of all my kids would think they were living in an X-File, because the only thing that could explain me speaking softly is alien invasion. Then, my brothers would EAT ME ALIVE, because sarcasm is the glue that holds our family tree together. My biggest fear though, is that I would be boring and start liking those sissy books that my book groupmates keep picking. That my friends would be a sad sad day.

I decided to ask my husband-

Me~ “Can I ask you a few questions?”

Half Napping Husband~ "I guess.”

Me~ “Do you wish I were less sarcastic?”

Husband~ “Sometimes.”

Me~ “When? Like when your mom’s in town?”

Husband~ “You’re lucky to get sometimes, don’t push it.”

Me(pushing it)~ “Would it be fair to say that my wit was what first attracted you to me?”

Husband~ “Sure. Your sense of humor worked with mine.”

So there you have it. A match made in heaven. I think that Sunday School teacher of ours would do well to focus less on people’s ingrained personality traits and start tutoring that mean girl on the side.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

So, Friday afternoon the phone rings

Mrs. Lunt, this is ******, the warden principal over here at the Jr. High.”

Can I please tell you that talking to the principal---any principal for any reason---gives me anxiety (please don’t start with that, “EVERYTHING gives you anxiety” bit. So what?!)?

“I’m calling about Nate,” (oh this is so SHOCKING considering recent events) “his 6th hour teacher noticed that Nate’s PAR book had been altered, so he confiscated it. Unfortunately this is considered forgery and we have to punish him.” Then she says, “I’m sure it won’t make you feel better, but he has done a very skillful job of it, which is why he didn’t get caught sooner. It's actually kind of impressive.” Um, no, it doesn’t make me feel ANY better at all, and is you is or is you ain’t the principal; shouldn’t you be ANGRY about this complete disregard for the rules? Who's running this circus anyway?

The students have these agendas that the teachers stamp each period to show that they were in class, on time, with their homework. No stamp, or the wrong kind of stamp lands you in detention. Our son has been cutting out old stamps and gluing them where new stamps should be so he wouldn’t have to stay after school. This has been going on for at least a month, possibly longer. Being a good counterfeiter is apparently extremely time consuming leaving him no time to DO HIS HOMEWORK. Naturally NONE of this would have happened at all if his teachers weren’t so stupid and if I had not suggested that he might be grounded if he kept having to stay after because he was missing his homework.

He has to serve 2 days of “In-School Suspension”, which frankly doesn’t sound all that horrible to me (it’s basically 2 days of isolation) and his father and I have to decide if there will be further flogging at home.

Here’s the thing, I’m all for natural consequences. You leave your bike out, it gets stolen. You play with fire, you singe your eyebrows. You smoke, you get cancer. I read this book once, I can’t remember the author, but he said, if your kids don’t want to do their homework don’t make them. If they don’t get up in the morning, fine, they miss school. If they get kicked out, so be it. Natural consequence. Um, yeah, that guy’s an idiot, and if he has kids they’re probably in prison. Or making rap albums (not that there’s anything wrong with that).

Myself, I don’t buy it, not when the natural consequence is ignorance and the possibility that my grandchildren will have to live in a refrigerator box someday because their father didn’t like his English teacher. But I really don’t know what to do. When I told him there may be further consequences at home because detention alone wasn’t convincing him to do his homework, he didn’t come to his senses and do his homework, he turned to a life of crime. I ask you, what is a mother to do? And just in case you don't know me well enough to guess, "nothing" is not an option. I prefer a consequence that leaves us on speaking terms, but it's not a requirement. Maybe he should go back to working for his uncle until 1 o'clock in the morning.

He’s a good kid, which I know, after all this sounds silly, but it’s true. He’s kind and hard working (as long as there are no teachers involved), he saves his money (which is good, because he might need it for bail some day), he doesn’t talk back (usually), really, over all he’s pretty okay, as teenagers go. But this is starting to feel like a power struggle. I’ve heard parents say “If we can just get him/her to graduation, I’ll be happy.” Sorry, that’s not good enough for me. Our kids don’t have to be super scholars, but I can’t deal with just barely eeking by either.

Before she hung up the principal apologized to me. She told me she hates making these kinds of calls (which makes me wonder about her career choice). Then she said “You know, they just get a little screwy at this age.”

That’s a bit of an understatement if you ask me.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Sometimes I forget that I was trying to make a point

I know you want to talk about soccer, but I need to get the Valentines chat out of the way first, I’m ordering them, and I might be too late to get them here on time as it is, since I value your opinions so much I wanted to show you what I had in mind.

~On a sidenote, this ALWAYS happens to me when a holiday falls too early in the month. I’m not organized enough to plan a month ahead, so if something is early, or middle (whatever), I’m late. No one ever seems to think I’m funny when I try pulling April Fool’s gags on the 8th of the month. Sheesh!

Anyway, the Valentines. It’s not that I am especially romantic, I’m not. But I am in love with stationary. It makes me swoony. I have quite a stash, even though I’m really not much of a letter writer. These days I prefer e-mail (I KNOW), I like the speedy banterishness of it. I’ve even gotten to be kind of texty lately, but nothing beats getting a real letter out of your mail box does it?

I think the stationary thing is because of my mother (like so many of my other issues), I was raised to send thank you notes. Always. And not just any little card that says “thanks” or some Hallmark appreciation poem, we had to write a real note, mentioning the item and how much we loved hand knitted gifts and how pink was our favorite color. The card then had to be mailed, even if we were thanking our best friend who lived next door the mail man had to take it. No sneaking it over when they weren’t looking, it had to have a cancelled stamp.

I used to be a very efficient thanker, but I’ve gotten old and busy. My Granny would be so embarrassed because sometimes-gasp!-I forget, or I take cookies in lieu of a handwritten U.S. Postal Service delivered note. I feel a little guilty when I do that. My husband on the other hand believes that a verbal thank you is good enough dangit! It doesn’t matter how many times I tell him that Miss Manner and my granny say otherwise. Blah, blah, blah…..My point was/is, I always justify buying stationary so that I’ll have something nice when I need to send a Thank You but Valentines Day needs no justification, you can just buy cards willy nilly. Whew.

So, I said all that to say this-

These guys make some sweet letterpress Valentine’s cards AND the envelopes are great too.

What do you think? I’m torn between the “be mine” and the “Lucky in Love”.

~ps~Etsy has tons of great printable valentines and letterpress valentines. Way better and far more original than anything you’ll find at Target.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Try not to let the anticipation kill you

I have a real post for today that just needs to have its loose ends tied up-ends that I had planned to tie on my lunch break, but these two cuties are spending the day and needed me to make them a gourmet lunch (known in some circles as "Ramen in you micowabe") so you will have to wait until tomorrow.
It’ll be worth the wait I promise.

In fact I have a jam packed posty week lined up. I’m planning to discuss valentines, my super sarcastic sense of humor, how I got to be on the jr. high principal’s speed dial, and, duh, soccer.

See you tomorrow!