Mom Crusades

Because I'm Lame! Lame! LAME! LAME!!!!!

2011-12-24T08:20:00.000-06:00

Greetings, Dear and Faithful Readers!

This week, on December 21, 2011, I was honored to be a guest blogger on Renee Shuls-Jacobson's "Lessons from Teachers and Twits" blog.

I agreed to this months ago, and despite Renee's kindly email reminders, my moment in the spotlight slipped my mind (as so many things do, these days).

This makes me a bona fide TWIT.

I thank all of you who visited me at Renee's site , and also for visiting me here, at Mom Crusades.

This year has been a blessing, for sure.

Not only have kind people like Renee not forgotten me, despite my sorry inattention, but life has been good.

My son is doing well as a fourth grader this year, keeping up with his class, and maintaining the grades that keep him on the honor roll. He's also kept that sense of humor and sensitivity to others that make him the best Fuzzy ever.

My daughter is blossoming as an up and coming drama queen (big grin) as she auditions for school productions of "The Phantom of the Opera," participating in the chorus and in making costumes. She's also keeping herself on the honor roll - a feat I was unable to maintain since about third grade.

Despite many job cuts where my husband is employed, he's still employed. That's a blessing. I'm still employed. My family is still together, and they're still healthy. Many people have prayed for and supported us in many ways, and I am so grateful for them.

May this new year bring you blessings and happiness.

Favorite Summer Memories

2011-09-05T09:24:00.000-05:00

There's definitely just a little more than a hint of fall in the air this morning, and that feeling coupled with the calendar date (September 5, 2011) makes me feel a little bit wistful.

Are there sights and sounds that remind you of certain seasons?

dannylipford.com

I recall one warm, spring day in gradeschool. It was a crisp day. Cool, but had a tinge of warmth just around the edges to tease you about the balmy summer days yet to come. The classroom windows were open, and we could hear other kids on the playground whose teachers had allowed an extra recess. Random, joyful sounds were heard as the other kids ran by the windows.
The sunlight was bright through the windows, making the paper on our desks look a hot neon-white in its glare.

Then, I heard the sound of a lawnmower rumble into life.

Shortly afterward, I could smell that freshly cut greenness of the grass and I just knew that summer was already there - it didn't matter that it was still early June, and that it wasn't shorts and t-shirt weather yet. Hearing a lawnmower and smelling the freshly cut grass was enough for me to know that it was already summer.

How about you? What sights and sounds tell you, despite the date on the calendar, that your favorite season is coming?

Deliver us from Summer Fashion

2011-08-26T07:57:00.000-05:00

Summer is almost over.

I hope that means a deliverance from the following Hideous Fashion Trends We Wish Would Disappear Forever:

thesun.co.uk

Usually, the sock & sandal combo I see with men is black socks with sandals.

Really - why socks with sandals? Doesn't it defeat the purpose of cooler feet? It certainly isn't stylish, so that can't be it. The only age group that can carry off socks and sandals are very little girls. Knock it off, people!

pauloflaherty.com

hocuspukeus.deviantart.com

Enough already with the muffin top jeans and other pants. Please. It looks like hell, it isn't flattering to any body let alone anybody, regardless of weight or fitness level.

zimbio.com
I still don't know what's going on with Beyonce's shorts in these photographs. Is that a pocket hanging out?

laikepo.blogspot.com

Can we abolish shorty-shorts and ultra-mini skirts? Unless you're posing for a men's magazine, that is. Otherwise, shorty-shorts and ultra-mini skirts . . . ugh. And the woman in the mini-skirt. That patch of denim looks more like an ineffective bandage.

kittyklan.livejournal.com
Forever solves the mystery of "boxers or briefs."

abcnews.go.com

I still haven't figured out how wearing your jeans below your butt cheeks could possibly be comfortable or stylish. Many say the style originated in prison , as a way to advertise the man's availability as a sexual partner.

Whatever the reason, I find it laughable when I tune in to a show like COPS and see some baggy-pantsed guy trying to flee and elude, but his pants are literally tripping him up. Talk about "dumb criminals." Get some suspenders, dude. Better yet - get pants that fit.

Wait a minute. How could I possibly aid and abet any criminal wanna-be? On second thought, keep those baggy pants. We lock and load at my house, but those baggy pants could be the big tip-off to the neighbors that you're an undesirable person to have around. Call 911!

Not to mention you look just plain foolish with your pants on the ground.

Wouldn't it have been interesting if this Voice of Reason

had made the American Idol finals?

holytaco.com
I bet her parents are proud.

whaletailworld.com

I don't care what kind of underwear you wear. Boxers, briefs, granny tighty-whities, bikinis, thongs. Do I have to see them? Is it absolutely necessary for everyone in public to witness the turning and churning of your other cheeks as you walk down the street? For Chrissakes, will you either pull up your pants or pull your shirt down so I don't need eye wash for the rest of my life?

What summer trends do you wish would disappear forever?

He's YOUR Cat

2011-08-05T08:28:00.000-05:00

BooBoo, the starter-kid

Our starter kid, Boo Boo, joined that big litter box in the sky a few months ago. He was 16, and had lived a long and happy life terrorizing our house guests, various rodents of the skittering as well as flying variety, and was sufficiently grouchy enough to cause our youngest, Fuzzy, to leave a wide berth between himself and the cat whenever there was the possibility of an encounter.

When the cat did something obnoxious, we'd say to each other, "He's YOUR cat, YOU let him in the house," as if to absolve ourselves of any responsibility of the offending feline.

Within a week of Boo Boo's death, we were suffering cat-withdrawals.

No longer was there a furry 14-lbs of fur to greet us with one of the multitude of sounds whenever we entered a room. Nor was there any feline "mrr" to announce his presence to us. My husband complained of cold toes because there was no cat to warm them throughout the night. Big Sister, who had long ago cowed Boo Boo (at the age of 18 months, via a move we now call The Whisker Grab) and in later years had taken to hauling him about the house, flopped casually over her arm, was sad.

Though, I'm sure she didn't miss cleaning his litter box.

Even Fuzzy, who had never professed a great affection for his four-pawed nemesis, announced one day, "I NEED A CAT!"

My husband attempted to thwart the immediate installation of a new pet into the household. "Our next cat has to be orange," he said, rather matter-of-factly. It was a good way to end the offers from countless people who, upon hearing of our pet loss, offered their left-over kittens of various ages and colors, either in single doses or by the sackful.

Cheeto

Just weeks after that announcement, an orange kitten found me at a family gathering. The kitten was too young to leave mama, but I was eagerly counting the weeks until I could claim him. For added support, I took the kids. Big Sister and Fuzzy declared that Cheeto, as we named him, was perfect. We were hard-pressed to leave his equally adorable and furry siblings behind, but daddy had said we could have only ONE cat, and it had to be orange.

We fell in love with ermine-soft fur, a delightful little crook near the tip of his tail, and the fact that he fit perfectly into one hand.

The kids called daddy, and put on their best cutie-pie voices. "Daddy, we want him! Can we bring him home? Pleeeeeeeeaaase?"

And then.

Oh, how we had forgotten what it was like to have a kitten in the house, one with all claws (and other equipment) still intact.

The living room drapes came down the second night. Cheeto likes to climb and I'm not ready to fork over money for replacement drapery.

The squirt gun has made a reappearance because the kitchen table is not a place for Senor Poopy Paws to be walking.

Bare legs are awfully attractive too, representing yet another fun thing to scale in Cheeto's attempt to place himself at the highest vantage point in the house.

kitty claws, or hair brush?

The "witching hour" (when all cats get a little bit psycho) is longer than an hour, and by 4:30 a.m., Cheeto is purring loudly, motoring about on the bed pillows, in an attempt to get somebody to feed him.

Anyone remember the old-fashioned, prickly hair curlers? I can't find a picture of them, but imagine them being bristly like the hairbrush (pictured), and rolling your hair in those. The bristles would prick your scalp - they were horrible to sleep on. Well, having Cheeto wrap himself around your head in an attempt to wake you up is a similar feeling.

Just trying to be helpful

A permanent fixture?

The four of us have reverted to our well-worn phrase: "He's YOUR cat."

We know he's just trying to be helpful, and alleviate the boredom of a house that suffered from having no feline for a few months' time.

We know he aims to become a permanent fixture, at least for the next 16 years of our lives. I admit he's awfully darn cute and fluffy, and we can tolerate the devilish kitten behavior until he's old enough to be . . . well, a little less "intact" than nature made him.

Until then, our "oops baby" is reminding us what it's like to have a "starter kid" again. Kitten-proofing, training, and regular veterinary care are once again on the horizon. And I'd have to say that truly, this cat is everyone's cat.

Perfect medley of stripes

Summer Jobs

2011-07-15T07:32:00.000-05:00

spongebob.wikia.com

"Summer is for FREEDOM," my son Fuzzy informed me at the start of summer vacation.

I agree.

Wholeheartedly.

veruassociates.com
This is more my dad's generation,
but you get the idea.

For a lot of kids though, summer is all about the extra cash and where to spend it.

Once I got past the occasional babysitting jobs, which were infrequent and not very well-paid, I stepped into newspaper delivery. That was back in the day when you delivered newspapers to porches, had customers call out, 'GET OFF THE GRASS,' and got nipped at by the occasional dog or two.

It was easy work for the money, really, and fine for a kid who didn't have a drivers license. It was also a year 'round job, not just for summer time.

lolpix.com
Maybe the car wash would
be a better place to wash
this one?

Big Sister is earning some spending money this summer, and gaining some work experience. Her Auntie grooms dogs (and cats) and has asked her to come help one day a week. Big Sister might help wash dogs, or wash windows, depending on how many furry, four-footed customers they have that day. It's hard work, I suspect, but Big Sister not only enjoys getting out of the house for a change of scenery, but I'd bet she really enjoys having some of her own spending money. She doesn't have any big plans for her cash just yet, except to save. That's a good enough plan, in my view.

How many of you had summer jobs? Which was your best one? Your worst one? How old were you when you got your first summer job?

Worst Dates

2011-07-11T15:50:00.000-05:00

What do you recall about your worst dates?

http://lifestyle.msn.com/relationships/staticslideshowmc.
aspx?cp-documentid=23293949&GT1=32023
Schmirtzendoof in the making

There are two that stand out in my mind.

My First Worst Date was with this guy I'll call Schmirtzendoof. Schmirtzendoof was a few years older than I was, and when you're both still in high school, that can sometimes be a big age difference. I only saw him briefly during end of the school year activities, and it was one of those big crushes you develop on people you see from afar. He was cute in a sort of geeky way, drove a hot car, and - well. Some of you know how this works. You watch that person, you have mental drool, and your girlfriends all giggle and nudge you whenever he walks by and says "hi" to you just for the sake of politeness. One day, one of my bolder girlfriends did one of those "do you like her circle yes or no" kind of things and asked Schmirtzendoof if he wanted to go out on a date with me. He said ok, and that weekend, off we went. Me and Schmirtzendoof, the couple of the hour. Which is probably about as long as the date lasted.

Thankfully.

I'm sure he felt the same way.

See, when you have this big, bad crush on somebody from afar, nine times out of ten it's better if it stays that way. Afar. Afar, afar, and very afar away. Because the reality is far different. For one thing, I was totally clueless what to talk to this guy about. He didn't seem to have much of an idea about conversation, either, so pretty much we just drove around in his car, drove through the various places around town that teens go to hang out (which were deemed too crowded, so we didn't stop), and after increasingly exasperated queries of, "Well, what would you like to do," with me being unable to form a coherent thought, we cut things short and called it a night.

That was the end. Worst date ever, likely for both of us. I'm sure he thought I was a complete, bubble-headed moron, and that wouldn't have been too far from the truth at that moment.

usuarios.multimania.es
Potsy Webber
(Anson Williams)

The next Worst Date wasn't nearly as bad as the first Worst Date. Fast-forward a couple years. Potsy Webber was all right. He was a guy I had a couple of classes with, and we actually could talk to each other. My sister persuaded me to go out with him.

It's probably not a good sign when you have to be persuaded to go out with someone. It's not that I disliked Potsy - but I didn't want him to think that I liked him "that way."

We did the standard teenage movie thing at that time. A movie - I can't even remember what we went to see - and out for the burger & fries afterward. It was a "worst date" in that something happened that was very like something that probably happened in an episode of "Happy Days." You young'uns can probably catch that retro show on cable somewhere.

We're in the movies. It's dark, of course. Potsy decides it's time to make his move, and does one of those exaggerated but trying to be normal arm stretches, and then suddenly . . . that arm is around the back of my seat, hovering gently just above my shoulders.

I'm sure Potsy thought that was a pretty slick move.

I was mysteriously busy whenever Potsy called that summer, but we still remained friendly - though not in "that way."

Be sure to click on the links to read about other people's worst dates. Better yet, share some of yours in the comments.

The Kid's Latest Obsession

2011-07-06T08:32:00.002-05:00

Twilight cast
hdwallpapers.in

My teenaged daughter is so over "Twilight." Personally, I think Jacob (left, Taylor Lautner) is much better looking than Edward (right, Robert Pattinson). Edward looks like he's always in pain, and rather stoned from it all. I still think the actress who plays Bella (center, Kristina Stewart) has the emotional range of a corn cob. Big Sister's Twilight posters have recently been relegated to the basement along with other "outgrowns" such as baby dolls and doll houses.

Her latest obsession is a series called "Full Metal Alchemist." This is the story of two brothers, Edward and Alphonse, who are unique individuals, to say the least.

Alphonse Elric
fullmeta-lalchemist.com

Edward Elric
pureanimegallery.com

Edward becomes a state alchemist at the tender age of twelve, in order to help restore Alphonse to his original body. Long story, there. Suffice it to say that Alphonse's soul resides in a huge suit of armor due to an alchemical experiment gone wrong (human transmutation) - and Edward has an arm and leg that are made of "automail." think of automail as a metallic, bionic version of limb replacement. Their only hope of full - body restoration is in finding a Philosopher's Stone.

Gluttony
cosplayresearch.com

Yes, obviously this is a fantastical tale. It is set in Europe, post-industrial revolution times, with many fictional elements.

There is the requisite good and evil, large doses of humor to balance out the violence, and enough plot twists to keep even the most avid fans of mystery/suspense reading - or watching. Manga is in printed form, anime is animated - as I was informed one day by Big Sister, finally annoyed over my inability to keep it all straight.

Greed
clubados.fre

There are even a few biblical references. If you've ever wondered what Greed, Gluttony, and Lust would look like in animated form, they, and many others, are in this series.

Lust
freewebs.com

Sloth and Pride also make appearances, as do the rest of the Seven Deadly Sins, though they aren't named as such in this series.

Hiromu Arakawa, the author and illustrator, is definitely talented. Big Sister got hooked partly because of the illustrations. Each one manages to convey the emotion intended by the author - intense, action-packed, scenic, and also comic. Arakawa can do a lot with just white and shades of black and gray.

Big Sister and her friend are full-fledged Full Metal fans. There are fan-fic sites (that's 'fan fiction' for those not in the know) and also a Deviant Art fan art site that's fun to check out, too.

I don't mind this latest obsession. When Big Sister and her friend are asked if they're "Team Edward" or "Team Jacob" , they tend to respond rather disdainfully. "We're TEAM ELRIC," they respond, often to blank looks, to which they reply with giggles.

sodahead.com

". . . but our awesome, butt-kicking, short-ranting Ed was around long before Mr. Sparklepants was even a speck of glitter in Stephanie Meyer's eye" , writes one fan of the Full Metal saga. Full Metal fans seem to agree.

"Vote for Elric . . . Because men don't need to sparkle to be sexy."
This message Edward Elric approved
emotastic-chic1deviantart.com

As for me, I don't mind either debate. They're all fictional characters, and I could think of much worse things for Big Sister to be obsessing over. Fictional boys are far better for obsessions than the real, live ones, in my humble opinion. Plus - I can sometimes tag along with this obsession. Watching the shows and reading the graphic novels are kind of fun.

Though I still think that Jacob is better-looking than Edward Cullen.

What were your biggest obsessions when you were a kid? What are your kids obsessed with that drives you crazy (or, that you enjoy)?

Today's writing from Mama Kat's prompt,

"Your child's latest obession: Do you love it

or hate it?"

Parent Peeves

2011-07-01T09:39:00.000-05:00

Peeves the Poltergeist
Harry Potter novels and films
totalfilm.com

What is a 'Peeve,' anway?

Sometimes a "peeve" seems like that obnoxious poltergeist from the Harry Potter novels. Othertimes, we consider it "just an annoyance."

Mama Kat is tapping into her follower's peevedom by asking what the top parenting peeve is.

Is it. . . screaming children? tarted-up children? parents who do everything for their child?

If you're not sure, but wonder if you made the list, here are some bloggers to check out:

Mom*Vana -"I saw a woman with a little army of 6 children all trailing behind her with GIANT cups of soda from 7-11. I wanted to slap her. I am sorry but that is ridiculous. On a hot day, give your kid water."
Parenting by Dummies - “I’m going to count to 5…” And then what? And why not 3? Personally, by the time you get to 3, I’ve had it with you, your kid, and your useless counting, so why bother going all the way to 5? "
My Perfect Little World - "How about once they're in college, you let them pick their OWN classes?"
My Memory Art - "I also stopped telling pee, poo, food, sleeping, sickness, behavior, and embarrassing narratives about my kids while they were anywhere within hearing distance at a very young age. "
The Raven's Spell - '“Shhhhhh” is far louder, disruptive, and just plain annoying than a kid getting excited to see hyenas appear on screen. If you plan to take your child to a movie, guess what, they are going to have a few things to say.'
Footprints in the Sand - "I remember seeing a five year old boy at the grocery store last year, submissively following behind his father when he accidentally bumped into the aisle causing a jar of pickles to drop on the floor. It was an accident. In less than five seconds the father turned around and yelled at his son in such a way that I started crying. "
What the Grimgirl looks forward to-" When I was a child, it seemed as though my sister and I were the only kids on the block who wore shoes in the summer. It wasn’t that the other kids didn’t have shoes; it was that my mother would not let us out the door without them."
homeimprovementforparents.com
Hey - let's cut those strings,
shall we?

Because my life is fascinating - I" don't care if this goes into a "college fund." By the time she's of age for college she's going to be such a bimbo that she'll be beyond repair. And don't tell me you're trying to boost her confidence. Getting judged for how she looks in a bathing suit at age 10 is NOT going to encourage ANY confidence."
Shit in the bathtub: Adventures in crap-tastic mommy moments - "But when I look over while driving and see a car full of children and the parents in the front driving and smoking (windows cracked or open) – let me tell you – I not only judge you, I consider that child abuse and neglect."
So this is the good life - "I know a lot of parents who keep their child up late at night (11:00, midnight, sometimes even later) so that they will sleep in the next morning so the parent can sleep in too."
Mommy's Lounge - ". . . there are lots of baby-talking-mommies out there! (Can you say, “annoying to the nth degree?”) I feel so bad for the kid who misses the opportunity to develop vocabulary, proper inflection, syntax and all that good stuff."

My own commentary on parental pet peeves is here, and based on what I've read from the funny ladies who post at the blogs above, there are a lot of people out there who are on the same page.

So - what's your biggest parental pet peeve?

Ten Things I'd Like to Tell Other Parents about their Parenting Skills (but probably won't)

2011-06-29T12:37:00.000-05:00

This week's idea comes from Mama Kat, who wanted to hear the ten things other people told me about my parenting skills (unsolicited advice, of course - because it's the best kind, right?). Aside from hearing, periodically, that my children's misbehavior is due to "poor parenting," I can't think of anything more insulting to say.

Instead, I'm going to insult everyone else and list the top ten things I'd like to say to other parents - but probably never will, because then they might hit me.

1. It's cold out. I see you're wearing a jacket and a hat, but your tyke isn't. What the hell is wrong with you? Cover that baby up!

articles.sfgate.com
ok - this kid is old enough to know
better - but when they aren't old enough,
PARENTS are supposed to take care of
things.

2. Will you please wipe that child's nose? It's obviously dripping, and just ignoring it isn't going to make it go away. Neither is pretending you don't see when the child wipes his/her nose on the shopping cart.

flickr.com
PUHLEEZE WIPE THIS NOSE NOW!

3. When the entire waiting room can smell poop, and your child is the only one in diapers, would you please quit gassing the rest of us and go change the diaper? Your child will thank you, and so will the rest of us. (Yes, this happened once, in a doctor's waiting room).

4. Do you *really* think it's appropriate for your little girl to wear shorts or sweatpants that read "JUICY" across the butt? Again, what the hell is wrong with you?

5. Is it *really* necessary to schedule your child for non-stop activities? Does your child ever get to just be a kid, and have some down-time for non-scheduled, non-adult supervised play? You know, like back in the good old days, when the kid could say, "Going for a bike ride," and mom would call out, "Be home for dinner"?

mormonchic.com
Divide this little picture up into 8 more
segments, now. And throw in a couple
more kids, to boot.

6. No, I don't want to hear your little darling sing the Alphabet song or George Carlin's list of words you can't say on t.v. just because I happen to be a captive audience.

7. Is it wise to allow your third grader to watch R-rated slasher flicks like "Friday the 13th"? I realize they're probably too old for Winnie the Pooh, but somehow Freddy Krueger doesn't seem like much of an age-appropriate improvement.

flickr.com
Freddy - your kid's new
bff

8. Yeah, I know the kids are corralled in a tight space and it isn't the most ideal situation, and sometimes you have to bring the kids because the baby-sitter arrangements fell through at the last minute. And I know that even the most well-behaved kids will act up (and out) at the most inopportune and inappropriate times. However, it's really not fair to the rest of us to be witness to your child/ren's rampaging all over the waiting room (or other public area) while you hide behind your book or newspaper. Please - will you keep an eye on your children and quit making the village watch out for their safety?

aztextpress.wordpress.com
What a sweetheart!

9. It's ok to discipline your child in public and private. I don't agree with public beatings, slaps, smacks, throwdowns, etc. But it's perfectly fine to firmly say, "No" and stick by it. It's hard at first, but believe me - your child, and the rest of the people s/he interacts with, will thank you some day.

sodahead.com
But dad, I've heard YOU say
that word!

10. I know it's always 10:00 a.m. somewhere, but here it happens to be 10:00 p.m. The toddler in your grocery cart is obviously overwrought and exhausted, cranky, and irritable. Do you honestly expect us to believe that 10:00 p.m. is the *only* time you can get out to the store to get those critical items you need, like your thong panties and 6-pack? Do your child a favor and GO HOME and put that poor child to bed.

shutterstock.com
Take that poor kid home
and put him to bed!

Office Supply Junkies, Unite!

2011-06-06T12:27:00.000-05:00

This post originally ran at the site of my first gracious host, Spanitz Consulting, Inc. , in August of 2005. Spanitz is still in business, so if you feel like sharing a little love, check out his site and give him a call.

The inspiration for running this post again comes from Renee at "Lessons from Teachers & Twits," who recently spent some time praising pencils. What can I say, except that I can relate, for sure.

Thanks for reading!

From Spanitz Consulting, Inc. - www.spanitz.com - 888.SPANITZ - 888.772.6489

I freely admit I’m an addict.

christynelson.net
Ooh! I don't have this set!
Anyone? Anyone?

Chocolate is one of my many addictions, but in all honesty, I’d have to say that stationery and other office products run a close second.

candychang.com
Definitely appeals to
my sense of order!

My addiction is not so terrible nor so psychologically deep that I’ve felt a need to heist the office supplies from any job I’ve held, but I do admit a small pleasure in viewing a well-stocked shelf of colorful sticky notes, neatly stacked boxes of staples, colored paper clips, and yellow legal pads.

Strange, but true.

lunanina.com
OFFICE SUPPLIES! (drool)

I think my addiction began in college, when I was introduced to the book store. My hangouts were the campus bookstore, as well as the ubiquitous "SBX" bookstore which was located off-campus. Every payday would find me hunkered down in the red-lined book displays–red-lined books were the discounted books, some text books, some current fiction, and a hodgepodge of miscellany that no one but me seemed to want. After making a few selections there, I’d wander to the greeting card section where there was a wonderful selection of humorous and slightly raunchy but hilarious cards. Stationery could be had by the pound, in a variety of colors and patterns, complete with matching envelopes. Stickers were plentiful. Notepads beyond the basic yellow and white were also on display, and I availed myself of as many different colors and styles I could afford on my student-job salary.
I’m not in college anymore. But, since the dollar store has set up shop down the block from me, I’ve been able to feed my addiction for a really cheap price. It really is true–everything is a dollar, unless otherwise marked, usually, for less than a dollar. Two for a dollar. Three for a dollar.

Such a deal!

officeworld.com
mmmm.....paper.....

The selection is dependent upon whichever supplier has an overabundance of rainbow-colored legal pads, of course, but I don’t care. The desk pad calendars might be from last year, but so what? I find them useful to give to the kids so they can color on the floor. The desk pad calendar gives them a hard surface on which to color, and it also is large enough to catch all the marker and crayon "over-writes" that would otherwise end up on the carpet.

thefullwiki.org
All right, get your nose
off the computer screen!
You're not gonna smell
the ink that way!

Having the dollar store so close is like experiencing that rush of the smell of the newly-minted ditto. Ditto machines have since fallen out of fashion, with today’s technology. Children of the 1970s, or anyone in a school district that refuses to catch up with the times, will remember the ditto. It was the forerunner of the Xerox machine–only it used purple ink. It left each page of paper slightly damp, and with a combination of wet glue and ink smell that was literally a heady combination when mixed with sleepy school children. Teachers usually let the dittos dry before dispersing them up and down the rows of orderly desks, but some, perpetually running behind, would head off the office help with a stack of newly minted dittos. These would be dispensed, and while the teacher made small talk with the office help at the head of the classroom, the children would surreptitiously check left then right, then gleefully fix their eyes upon the slightly damp sheet of paper with its purple ink, and literally stick their nose right onto the paper and . . . inhale deeply.

The white, school paste with the cap, underneath which was a flat, tongue-depressor like object for applying the paste, often inspired the same response.

I don’t really think there’s any correlation or causation between the sniffing of dittos and the addiction to stationery supply and other office products. Perhaps a survey should be done. Might make a good Masters thesis.

Anyway, with school just around the corner, the stores are awash in the glow of school and office supplies. At least three aisles are set aside to display the glittering wares, each vying for your attention in order to be purchased, appreciated, and worn to a nub.

jennifergeldard.wordpress.com
Are you coveting a box right now?

Remember that box of crayons? Smelled of wax, but still tantalizing with nice, sharp, pointy-tipped colors–a veritable rainbow waiting to be applied to that sheet of crisp, white paper, at your little desk. It was especially nice to get the box with the sharpener in the back. That way, you could always have nice, pointy crayons instead of, after a while, the rounded nubs that never filled in all the smaller and more delicate pieces of artwork in the coloring book or the worksheet.
Then there were the pencils. Younger kids got the chubby pencils–older kids, the slim, yellow number 2's with the pink erasers. Cap erasers were always fun–especially when you could get them in different colors, and proudly wear one down until you could see the tip of the original pencil eraser through the cap. Hand-held pink erasers were great for stabbing your pencil into, right dead-center. I don’t know why, but this held the greatest attraction for the boys in the class. Perhaps they needed an inexpensive way to keep their pencils upright while seated at their desks–the pink, hand-held eraser was the way to do it. It was always a great thing to have pencils with your name on them, too.

flickr.com
12 inches of fun in a variety of colors!

Even rulers could be exciting. Today’s rulers have moved beyond the pale-blonde wooden jobs of our school days. Now, they come in neon, see-through styles–and are also flexible. Twelve inches of hot pink, neon green, or shrieking yellow can be yours, in all its rubbery floppy flexibility, perfect for swatting on the bus ride to and from school. The locker room equivalent of the wet towel whip.

And then there are the notebooks. Various sizes, multi-colored pages, covers in frosted pastel or bold, colorful action. Write in me! They all call out.

Some lucky kids got new markers for the start of the school year. It was especially wonderful to get the kind that smelled–lemon for yellow, oranges for orange, blueberry for blue, etc. The only drawback was having your nose speckled with marking pen dots after getting too close to the tip of the pen.

Sigh.

d49.org

Makes me nostalgic for the first day of school. New, unused school supplies.

I guess it doesn’t matter how old you are–or even if you’re school-aged. It’s hard to get past September without a new box of crayons, or a nice new notebook or selection of newly-sharpened pencils. I don’t recommend sniffing glue, or hunting down an ancient ditto machine–but if you’re getting nostalgic for that sort of thing, perhaps it’s time to find the school supply aisle at your local shopping center. Go ahead. Get that box of 64 Crayolas.

en.wikipedia.org
Go ahead. You know you want to!

You can always tell people they're for the grandkids.

School Picture Week

2011-06-02T07:44:00.001-05:00

Thanks, Lessons from Teachers and Twits, for this wonderful idea.

Only thing is, I just am not compelled to post my "worst picture ever." There are a few of those. So - I'm opting for the least offensive (to me).

Harken back to 1974-75. According to The People's History, "What Happened in 1975", these are some fun facts you should know:

How Much things cost in 1975

Yearly Inflation Rate USA 9.2%

Year End Close Dow Jones Industrial Average 858

Interest Rates Year End Federal Reserve 7.25%

blogfrightcatalog.com
Amityville Horror house

Average Cost of new house $39,300.00

Average Income per year $14,100.00

Average Monthly Rent $200.00

Cost of a gallon of Gas 44 cents

Average cost new car $4,250.00

Foster Grant Sun Glasses $5.00

1975 Buick Riviera
cheapcars4sale.us

One pop-culture site notes these special quotes. I wonder if Mick Jagger ever reads my blog?

"Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun."

- McDonalds

shayc.deviantart.com
Oh. Wait. This could double
for "JAWS," too.

"I'd rather be dead than sing Satisfaction when I'm 45"

-Mick Jagger, age 33

"We're gonna need a bigger boat"

- Roy Scheider, in 'Jaws'

"We answer to a higher authority"

- Hebrew National

"The ultimate driving machine"

- BMW

"Attica! Attica!"

- Al Pacino, in 'Dog Day Afternoon'

"Don’t leave home without it."

-American Express

myoffstreet.com
mood ring

You might have wanted these litte gadgets: Mood rings, Pay Day, Pong (home version), Six Million Dollar Man action figures, Playmobil, Pet Rocks, Trac Ball

So I was kindergarten in the year 1975. Mom made my dress. The print is of the old woman in the shoe. It's hard to tell from the faded photo, but it was a light blue background with a red shoe, and there was some bright yellow in there somewhere. White bric-a-brac trimmed the dress. Note the white, plastic barrettes. Every little girl had those. I really did get haircuts. My hair was wavy-curly then, and so looks longer on one side than the other. Who knows - it may have been, I probably didn't sit still very well.

In 1975, we didn't go to the beauty salon for haircuts. In order to get straight bangs, my mom resorted to scotch tape across the bangs, then scissors - and hoped we'd sit still. One family member, who cuts hair for a living, still laughs when we talk about that. Anybody else experience the scotch-tape method of cutting hair?

1970s Vintage Converse
cgi.ebay.com
not everyone wore Converse,
but our tennies were similar
in style, being made of canvas
and having those rubber toes
that kept morning dew from soaking
your feet when you walked
(yes, walked) to school in the morning.

Kindergarten was a half-day, where I went to school. I didn't cry the first day, like many kids did. Girls wore dresses and knee socks to school, sometimes slacks. The only kids who wore jeans were the boys. We had rubber-toed tennis shoes for gym class.

We had recess.

We had a nap, or rest time.

We had lots of toys to play with, including a kitchen, dress-up toys, modeling clay, puzzles, etc.

The playground had monkey bars and a tall slide.

We walked to school, and had a crossing guard to help us safely cross the busiest street near our school. When it rained, we took an umbrella. If we were lucky, mom might take pity on us and pick us up.

We walked home for lunch, once we were in school full days. Even in the snow, we walked home for lunch. Snowpants went in the dryer while we ate, and were warm and toasty when it was time to put them on again for the walk back to school.

No Child Left Behind didn't exist. Kids were held back if they didn't meet academic expectations. Seseme Street was the last word in fun and educational television for children. Barry Manilow was on the airwaves. Our country was gearing up for the big celebration in 1976 - 200 years of independence.

Now it's your turn. Be daring. Dig up an old school photo of yourself and post it. Include a link in your comment so I can check out how darned cute you were back in the day. Go on - it'll be painless!

Cell Phone Harmony: A-one. . . A-two. . . A-three. . .

2011-05-31T06:24:00.000-05:00

picturesof.net

It's that time of year when parents of children of all ages are invited to hear the accumulation of a years' worth of work.

That is, if your child is involved in some sort of music program.

Every spring, my kids were ~~tortured~~ pleased to participate in a spring music program in elementary school. This consisted of kids taking the stage according to grade level and singing such hits as, "My Bonny Lies Over the Ocean." Parents waited patiently and applauded enthusiastically at the end of each number, and no one could stifle grins once the kindergarteners took the stage.

fccdundee.com

Once the kids hit middle school, the music program gets a little more serious. The admiration toward the elementary music director over how she can tease music out of kids drawn in squiggle-vision turns to real awe once you hear the middle school choir.

We recently attended the spring concert for my daughter, Big Sister, and what a treat that was. A choir for each of three grades, varying numbers of participants, and excellent talent and skill across the board.

The only discordant notes to be heard were those of a cell phone.

Heavy sigh.

I've said it a million times, but I suppose I must say it again - though if you're a semi-regular reader, I know I'm just preaching to the choir (no joke intended, as this is about something that occurred during a choir concert):

electricalres.com

TURN OFF THE CELL PHONE.

Please. For the listening pleasure of the rest of the crowd, turn off the cell phone. Let me repeat that once more:

Turn off the cell phone.

The discordant jangle of the cell phone occurred a few times over the course of the evening. To listen to the songs of three grades took just about one hour. 60 minutes of an audience's time to hear their child sing, and a few people couldn't live without their cell phones.

I believe my sister summed it up best, when she experienced this at her son, Bud's, band concert this spring:

"Mom and dad, am I so unimportant that I can't have fifteen minutes of your undivided time and attention so I can share with you some of the things I've learned this year?"

Yes, Virginia, you are unimportant.

You are SO unimportant that mommy and daddy cannot possibly distance themselves from their electronic gadgets more than two seconds in order to give you time and attention. Don't worry, honey. You can always text them from your seat onstage and let them know you're there.

One rather incongruous thing happened at Bud's concert, though. One of the students had a cell phone announce its presence just before it was time to play.

christianschooljournal.com

I wonder how many parents thought, huffily, "WHAT does a SEVENTH GRADER need with a CELL PHONE. It's the SPRING CONCERT for PETE'S SAKE."

Well. Whatever his reasons, he no doubt learned it from the adults in his life.

Skytel cellular phone commercial, youtube.com.

Remember this gem?

Mother's Day Madness

2011-05-10T06:13:00.000-05:00

This post originally ran at Spanitz.com in 2008.

What was the strangest Mother's Day gift you've ever received, or purchased?

mylibetery.ca

Everybody has one, and at this time of year, almost everybody has to shop for one.

Yes, ladies and gents, I’m talking about Mother’s Day.

Lest one scoff such a day as being strictly an excuse for greeting card companies and florists to make money, mothers everywhere have been recognized since 1912, according to "Mother’s Day on the Net–The History (AKA Her-story) of Mother’s Day," (http://www.holidays.net/mother/story.htm May 9, 2008).

Anna Reeves Jarvis, in 1858, started a Mothers’ Work Day in West Virginia. It was supposed to "raise awareness about local sanitation issues." I can’t help but smile a little over this: When weren’t mothers aware of sanitation issues? I suppose "back then" ideas of sanitation were considerably different than they are now, though.

Julia Ward Howe tried in 1872 to honor mothers not necessarily for their role as sanitation awareness diehards, but for their "inclinations toward peace." Her chosen date to celebrate Mothers’ Day for Peace was June 2, and the effort was successful as long as she paid for everything–which she did for about ten years.

Mother’s Day as we know it in more modern times came about thanks to the efforts of the daughter of Anna Reeves Jarvis. After her mother’s death, daughter Anna Jarvis spent several years petitioning lawmakers and others to declare the second Sunday in May as "Mother’s Day." She wanted to "emphasize the role of women in their families."

Jarvis never intended for the day to be commercialized, and I would bet there are few women alive today who can remember the holiday being anything other than an occasion for a card, bouquet of flowers, or a gift.

For some, Mother’s Day is an occasion for elaborate gift-giving that rivals even Christmas. Sunday newspaper advertising increases in the weeks before the big day, pointing out to the oblivious man, "Hey stupid, it’s mother’s day so you’d better get your mom/wife/grandma a present."

svmoms.com

The implication is the man must get a gift for every woman he's ever come in contact with just to cover all bases.

Retailers would like nothing more.

Some women are content with flowers. Others, with a card either store-bought or home made.

Others are disappointed if they don’t receive something other than the very best, which to some, means the most expensive.

My husband is getting lots of grief from his co-workers about the gift he is getting for the mother of his children (that’s me).

I suspect many of the women he works with are about to receive things like expensive purses, perfume that costs in the three-digits, jewelry, and what-have-you.

"So what are you getting your wife?" they asked my poor, unsuspecting husband this week.

preciousgems365.com

"A garden hoe," he replied, perfectly content that he’d stumbled upon the ideal gift for me.

He was met with a mixture of dead silence, sounds of utter dismay, and the gaping mouths of disbelief.

"That’s terrible," they responded in perfect unison.

"But that’s what she ASKED for," my husband attempted to defend himself.

"It’s STILL terrible," they insisted.

No doubt every other man he works with was breathing sighs of relief that their gifts of bread machines, vacuum cleaners, and electric toothbrushes would be met with ecstatic sighs from their spouses. Compared to a garden hoe, they’d be spending a veritable fortune, after all.

gardeningoncloud9.com

In defense of my husband who always aims to please and is often faced with the response of "I don’t know," after querying "What would you like," I have to say I did, indeed, request a garden hoe for Mother’s Day.

But not just any garden hoe will do.

Mine must be long-handled, and I hear that those can be hard to find.

I’m not three feet tall. The makers of garden implements seem to think that people who use a hoe are three feet tall and don’t make the handles long enough. If you do any gardening work and are over three feet tall, you realize that using implements with short handles is really tough on your back.

So, because I’m tall, I like gardening tools with a long handle.

We don’t own a long-handled garden hoe.

And I want one.

I need one.

graphicsfairy.blogspot.com

I require one.

Above all else.

Above a manicure, pedicure, facial, massage, expensive perfume, unlimited shopping at the store of my choice, dinner out, you name it.

I like to garden. Ergo, I require the proper tools.

And as long as it’s not pink, I’ll be pleased to have a long-handled garden hoe as my Mother’s Day gift.

illustrationsof.com

My husband’s sentiment is in the right place. And I hope that Anna Jarvis would not roll over in her grave about that.

© Copyright 2000-2008 Spanitz Consulting, Inc. - All Rights Reserved

For the Kids

2011-04-17T20:51:00.000-05:00

Greetings, All -

My apologies to all of you who have tried to be regular readers of my space on the Internet. I'm really behind in posting anything of any great worth, lately.

ericgalvezdpt.com

As many of you know, Fuzzy underwent surgery last fall for a brain tumor. He had been ill off and on for a few weeks previous, but it didn't seem like anything out of the ordinary. Then, one morning, he couldn't make his arm and leg work, and his speech started to slow - and I thought he was having a stroke.

An MRI revealed a brain tumor, and we were airlifted to a major hospital for the start of what would become . . . well, I'm not sure if nightmare is the right word, or even if "big struggle" covers it.

freakingnews.com

Fuzzy is doing so well, right now. He's back at school a couple hours a week, he's working hard with physical and occupational therapy. He's maintained his sense of humor through it all, though as expected, he has some rough days, too. We are just so grateful for all the people who helped us get our Fuzzy back. So many others are not as lucky.

On one of the support lists I joined, a woman named Angelia asked list members to try and get some publicity out for a video she put together to garner support for St. Jude's Children's Hospital, a place that does really great things for kids who have brain tumors. A country music singer by the name of John Rich wrote a good song, and the video and song can be found here:

There are many people who make so many things possible for kids who have brain tumors and other life-threatening and life-changing physical issues. I'll list just a few, below:

donations/grants for extended-stay housing accommodations during your child's treatment
donations/grants for necessary medical supplies for your child, such as wheel chair ramps, wheel chair lifts for vans
donations/grants to help your child become more mobile - wheelchairs, specialty tricycles
Make-A-Wish foundations, and others like them

If you can find it in your heart to support St. Jude's Children's Hospital, and other research hospitals like St. Jude's, please do so. Maybe some day, there will be more ways to help kids who have brain tumors.

Thanks for reading.

For more information about brain tumors, visit The Brain Tumor Foundation website and

NABTC (National Brain Tumor Coalition) to read about May being National Brain Tumor Awareness month.

For Brain Tumor Awareness apparel, etc. (and many other really cool awareness items) visit CafePress

Miscellaneous Monday

2011-03-14T06:40:00.000-05:00

It's just another Miscellaneous Monday . . .

Damn you, farting
autocorrect

If people hate the auto-correct function on their cell phones so much, why use it? I wonder if that function was created by people who have little knowlege of the American English Language. Judging from the auto-correct features I'm seeing . . . ? Naaaah. Whoever created auto-correct knows exactly just the right amount of the English language. Damn you, Autocorrect!

coolchaser.com

Does anyone else wish that the makers of Crayola crayons would include more than one black crayon in each box? I find that the black crayon is one of the most used crayons in any box, and that the box of 8 crayons should be bumped up to 9 - just to include an extra black crayon.

cwconnect.computerworld.com.br

High-heeled shoes. Oh my. You know just how high the pumps are now that women are wearing, and for daily work wear, too, not just for bar-hopping. I saw a woman tottering through our local Meijer store recently, leaning on her shopping cart in order to walk, her ankles bending at dangerous angles as she slowly made her way down the aisle. Ladies, if the heels on your shoes are so high that you can't safely walk, then don't wear the freaking shoe. Good grief. Rather than serving to make you look sexy or sophisticated or stylish, you just look plain old ridiculous. Even a little girl playing dress-up in mommy's closet has more fashion sense. Either learn how to walk in your "walking on my tippiest tippy-toe toes shoes" or relegate them to the back of your closet for good.
fanlistings.org

Oh Charlie, it was good to know you. Irascible and handsome rake that you are, you're just too far over the edge right now. "Let's talk about something exciting. Me," says Charlie. Well - sorry. You can join ranks with Mel Gibson, another former hottie who has gone over the edge. Do you two share the same DNA? Adonis DNA, perhaps? A 12-step program is exactly what you need right now, though you may scoff.
signaramacolumbus.com

Having recently become much more sensitive to the needs of those who use wheelchair or other equipment in their daily lives, I've been noticing more often the interesting uses of handicapped parking spaces. Not every person parked in a handicapped space is visibily in need, and that's fine by me as long as that person is displaying the proper sign in or on their vehicle. I really, REALLY hate seeing cars parked in handicapped spaces without the requisite rear-view tag, or license plate. Seriously? If you people need help becoming handicapped so you can park up close to a building, then see me. I'm sure there's a crowbar somewhere that can crack a kneecap or two and help you out. Oh. And parking in handicapped just to pick up your take-out order is UNACCEPTABLE. You are not a rock star. Rock star parking doesn't exist for mere mortals (only for those with Adonis DNA) and your restaurant take-out order doesn't qualify you for even temporary handicapped parking. Give it up, people.

Happy Monday, all!

http://icanhascheezburger.com/
Yup, Mondays can be like that.

Kudos and Craps

2011-02-24T10:51:00.000-06:00

When it's Kudos and Craps day, that just means I couldn't think of any one topic to write about so you're going to get a hodge-podge of things instead. Aren't you lucky?

pgcps.org

Kudos to the Slurpee guy who gave Big Sister a free slurpee when the cup she was filling at one machine mysteriously exploded on her. Slurpee guy was very apologetic, and despite being a new teenager, Big Sister handled it with a minimum of drama. So - Kudos to her, too!

usmagazine.com
Jacee "I've got pipes and
I've got class" Badeaux

colocanidol.com
Clint "Givin' bad vibes" Gamboa

etsy.com

CRAP to Clint Jun Gamboa, American Idol 2011 wannabe, who booted fellow wannabe Jacee Badeaux during group week because Jacee didn't fit the "vibe" he thought the group should have. Oh. You mean because he's kinda chubby, he didn't look sexy enough to sing "Get Ready"?

Puhleez. You know what, Clint, I'll admit you're talented and have a good voice - but what you did was completely without class, especially since Jacee had gamely worked with the group for all that time.

CRAP to Linsday Lohan for hitting the news again for her bad behavior. Maybe had she stolen a bra, there'd be less of an outcry.

slumzboxden.com

Lindsay Lohan

esty.com

To the Wisconsinites who are marching in protest at their state capitol.I know that there are some unions that, do indeed, protect the "wrong" kind of employees, but overall, I believe that unions that have protected the little guy and improved their working conditions. Perhaps the country would rather we go back to this:

pcj.typepad.com

Eastmanhouse.com
Child Labor

counterlightsandrants1.blogspot.com

Speaking of bras, check out Bras for Haiti here on Facebook and Linda UnHooked for places to send your don't fit anymore bras, or the bra you bought that suddenly fit once you go it home, or the bras you see marked down to $5 each and you're compelled to buy one but your size isn't on the rack. Nicole Krupp gets major Kudos for sending bras to Haiti to not only "lift the girls," but to lift the spirits of the Haitian women.

To donate a new or used bra, mail to Nichol Krupp Photography, 112 Third Street, Bay City, MI, 48708.

Kudos to all the wonderful people who are with us on the journey to help Fuzzy get healthy again. We're home from our extended stay in hospital-town, and Fuzzy is walking and feeling fine. He'll begin chemo soon, and will get regular scans and check-ups to monitor his health. Thank you for your prayers and your support.

digitalfieldguide.com

Guest Writer: Encouragement

2011-02-16T18:51:00.000-06:00

I don't usually "borrow" material without first asking permission of the author, but I'm going to take a chance that Vivian's Mom won't mind just this once. She tagged me in this message on Facebook, and after reading it, I think it's spot on.

How well do you accept a compliment? Are you someone who is always ready to encourage someone else, yet wince in embarrassment when someone encourages you?

Thanks, Vivian's Mom - this arrived at just the right time!

pulsarmedia.eu

stuffmamaslike.blogspot.com
Do you remember when
the house was always
decorated in "Early Fischer-Price"?

Its early morning and I’m not dressed yet. The phone rings while I’m taking stock of last night’s dishes piled in the sink, coloring books and crayons scattered all over the living room, and several hooligans running about in underwear and tangled hair, shouting for breakfast. Its easy to feel defeated today before the day has even begun.

I answer the phone and, as if by magic, something changes. Because someone on the other end encourages.

I don’t do well with compliments. I’m never sure how to respond. Who, me? I’m shyly scuffing my toes and casting eyes down as the words roll over me. “We’re proud of you. We are thankful for you. You are doing a beautiful job. You are a wonderful Mother.”

mombizcoach.com
Yep, I can relate!

A thousand thoughts rush to the forefront of my mind – "I yelled at my daughter for no reason this morning. I sent my kids to bed in a huff last night. Have you seen my kitchen? My bathrooms are a disgrace and I hardly smiled at my husband last night. I’m not who you say I am.”

Why is it so hard to accept encouragement?

thejewelboxhome.blogspot.
com

Ah, there it is, the answer that steals so much from us: perfectionism. That little lie that snakes its way into many a mother’s mindset. “Other mothers have cleaner houses. They speak sweetly to their kids. They cherish and serve their husbands. They have perfect lives.”

Somehow we slurp down every lie and ask for more.

The only way to combat lies is with truth. And here it is, mamas:

You are doing a beautiful job. No, I didn’t say perfect. I didn’t say spotless. I didn’t say sinless. I said beautiful. Broken, messy people can be beautiful, and the way that you try, try and try again, that is beautiful.

Every day that you wake up in the midst of your mess and resolve, every day that you try, and yes even every day that you fail, your heavenly Father is proud of you. Think of how proud you are of your littles when they try, and even when they stumble and fall amidst their attempts.

etsy.com
Ingredients of
Momhood

You are a wonderful mother. You love your children more than yourself. You are being remade into a better person because of the sacrificial love you have for these precious gifts you’ve been given. And that makes you wonderful.

Compliments and encouragement, they are not for the perfect among us…because who among us is perfect?

Motherhood is historically “thankless.” Small people are not always great at making us feel validated and appreciated, and even harried husbands coming home to the giant task of family, they can even forget at times.

Encourage one another. I see what other mamas do, because I do the same. I see how hard it is. If there is some way that I can encourage another in the way I have been encouraged, I know that it will bolster her, give her strength and hope in this daily battle we call life.

That’s why we should encourage. Not because we are perfect, but because we are not.

comments16.com
Damn straight, we can do it!

It's All About Stylish Me

2011-02-13T21:44:00.001-06:00

Wow! And to think I almost didn't look at my blog today to check comments.

Well, that will teach me. As Renee' A. Schuls-Jacobson of Lessons from Teachers and Twits says, you'd have to be a "cold hearted bitch not to heed the call of a fellow blogger."

Of course, when the call consists of, "Oh there's something for you on my blog," well - how can I resist?

Schuls-Jacobson has ~~tagged~~ awarded me with the Stylish Blogger Award. I thank her - because she gives me far more credit than I deserve! I will admit, too, that parts of my house are extremely messy. Don't look in my basement, any closets, or in the family room. I have declared war on kitchen countertop clutter. That was two days ago, and I'm losing.

Anyway. Back to It's All About Stylish Me.

To keep the award, I must ~~bore you by telling you~~ tell you six things about myself, and then ~~stick~~ bestow the award to six other bloggers and also link back to the person who ~~forced me to update my blog~~ bestowed the award to me.

Here goes:

hipundies.com

I am the least stylish person on the face of the planet. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and I'm planning to wear flannel. To bed. Admittedly, I used to wear slightly less . . . ahem. . . warm fabrics now and then, but - it's winter here in the mid-western United States. And really, is flannel really going to stop any red-blooded American Male from making advances? Sorry, Victoria's Secret, I won't be stopping by your store anytime soon to pick up anything slinky. Who says Valentine's Day has to be all about sex, anyway? Bring on the damned chocolates.
I have read the Bible all the way through, except for the pages where they go on forever with the "begats." And Job was difficult to get through. Ok - I have read *most* of the Bible. I recommend the Teen Study Bible, New International Version because along with the biblical text, there are interesting tidbits about what life was like in biblical times and also some cool ways to relate what you're reading to your own life & times.

mochadad.com

Birthday parties scare me. Whenever one of the kids would bring home an invitation to a birthday party, I'd break out in a cold sweat. I especially cringe when I learn the entire class has been invited, because depending on where the event is to be held, at least half the class will attend - and out of a sense of ~~fear~~ duty, I tend to stay to ~~see how awfully other people's children behave~~ try to help, or at least hover inconspicuously in the background to make sure my own kids won't be ~~terrorized~~ terrorized by ill-behaved party goers. Usually, things work out all right - but . . .
. . . genetically speaking, I come from a long line of worriers. My mother worries and her mother worried. It's impossible not to worry. However, it is important to not allow your worries to rule your life. I can only worry so much, for instance, about how unfashionable I am in my flannel. Or whether or not I'll ever save the whales.I can only worry so much whether or not other people like me. Or not.

Romy & Michele's High
School Reunion

Which leads me to reveal that I have never yet attended a high school class reunion. I'm embarrassed to tell you what number will be coming up in the year 2012, and I'm slightly more embarrassed to tell you that I likely won't attend. I'd hate to wreck the streak. I'm not sure what holds me back, really - if it's the fact that I'm already feeling the need to shed more than a few pounds (I've seen pictures of classmates from a previous reunion. They all look fabulous) before I'd consider attending, or if it's the fact that whenever that invitation hits the mailbox I am immediately 15 years old again and feeling as insecure as ever. Does EVERYONE go through that, or is it just ~~my crazy-ass self~~ me? I feel like I've grown past many rotten behaviors, ~~but no one else has~~ but worry that I'll be in the bathroom stall as the ~~surgically enhanced busty girls~~ other women enter, and someone will say, "OHMIGOD, did you see her? She got FAT!" Yep, I'm that insecure. Don't lie, I know you think like that, too.
I have about 25 books under my bedside table, waiting for me to read them. And - I just went out and purchased six brand new books. I have enough books to start my own library. One can never have too many books.

I really have a hard time coming up with a list of any interesting things about myself. With any luck ~~you won't be yawning~~ you'll keep reading to see if there any new and interesting blogs here that you can check out.

I nominate:

Lisa, at Grandma's Briefs. I admit it was really the title photo of Lisa's blog that grabbed my attention. Wouldn't you wonder, seeing a bunch of "tighty whities" hanging on a clothesline, just what this blog was about? While I'm not yet a grandma like Lisa, there is still a lot I can relate to on her blog. She has an adorable grandson, cute pets, interesting opinions, a Back Room devoted to book reviews, and just a lot of really interesting things to make you think about.
Grace, at Looks Great Naked. How could I resist a title like that? Especially when one of the first posts I ever read there was about Mboob, titled "Titty, Titty, Bang! Bang!" Grace is about more than just breasts, though I never thought I'd laugh so hard reading about a mammogram. I really don't know if Grace looks great naked, but I can tell you she's very witty - with good tales from the dating scene involving Mucinex, goofy pet ~~tails~~ tales, to kumquat mojitos. She'll also get you thinking about some serious stuff regarding pricks and beautiful, antique chandeliers.
Confessions of a Cashier will make you think twice every time you interact with a cashier at a gas station, grocery store, anywhere. This cashier is one savvy woman, with an acidic wit and a deadly accurate view of customers. She encounters on a regular basis customers who like to pee in public, park their vehicles inside the store, steal the coffee creamer, finger the donuts, dump their household garbage in the business dumpster, and attempt to scan their own goods at the check-out counter. I don't know how much credence the cashier puts in blogger awards, but ~~who cares because~~ I'm nominating her, anyway.
If you haven't met Mama Kat yet, now's the time. Mama's Losin' It is a fun place to visit, and plus you can sign up for these nifty writer's workshop ideas that will pop into your inbox every week. This is perfect for someone like me, who needs to get nominated for a blog award in order to get inspired to update the blog. I read Mama Kat because she's funny, and I also enjoy her artwork.
Cecelia Winesap is Obsessed with Time Life Infomercials is a good place to visit as well. Even if you've never been married, even if you've never been divorced, let alone had a significant other, Assmunch Monday is a regular feature that will leave you laughing and thanking God that you never hooked up with such an ass as Assmunch. Commentaries on daily life at home and work are also good reading.
Working Mom Back To School chronicles the life and times of just what the title says! I love the blog pic of Wonder Woman. Suzy-Q, aka Working Mom, has interesting questions about what kids are allowed to say, as far as cuss-words go; life in the college lane from strange professors to whiny college-aged classmates, neighborhood life, and a host of other things any mom can relate to.

si-designs.com

Happy reading, everyone!

Maybe Next Year, Charlie Brown

2011-02-08T07:57:00.001-06:00

askoki.co.uk

Charles Schulz sure struck home when he created Charlie Brown. Who among us cannot relate in some form to that round-headed kid whose dog, Snoopy, is more savvy than he is?

No mail. Rats.
scenicreflections.com

Valentine's Day is right around the corner. Teacher has sent home a list of the names of all students, to ensure that each child receives a Valentine. Fuzzy and I have dutifully selected some Valentines, and whether he's present for his class party or not, he'll fill out a card for each child.

I can't help but think of poor Charlie Brown, waiting patiently at his mailbox for a Valentine from the little red haired girl. Well, not just her - heck. A valentine from ANYBODY.
Surely, those of you who survived elementary school must recall, writing out Valentines to your friends was fun. The hard part came when you got to the kids you didn't know well, or the kids you didn't want getting the wrong impression after the receipt of a card with "I LOVE YOU" printed on it.

In the politically incorrect days of my youth (when everyone was politically incorrect) there were kids who didn't get Valentines at class parties.

Ralph Wiggums of
"The Simpsons"
doletown.com

I know this, because we were allowed to circulate the room to distribute Valentines and assorted sweets, dropping one on each desk. That is, one was supposed to drop on each desk. More often than not, there were a handful of kids who didn't get a Valentine from everyone, as they were supposed to. You weren't supposed to leave anybody out. I don't know if anyone ever pointed out to Teacher, however, that Ralph didn't get quite as many Valentines as Tommy, who was considerably more popular.

And some of us weren't too sure about giving those Valentines that had something other than a neutral "Happy Valentine's Day" greeting on them. Lisa Simpson of the Simpsons inadvertantly inspired a super-crush from Ralph after delivering to him a You Choo Choo CHOOSE me Valentine to his until-then empty Valentine mailbox.

Charles Schulz's Peanuts characters and The Simpsons couldn't be more polar opposite, but the creators of both sets of characters sure know something about the cruelty of children.

Not even adults escape unscathed in the cartoon world. Even the writers of Phineas & Ferb get in a few jabs at Valentine's Day as Major Monogram and Carl, his intern, have this (paraphrased) exchange:

Major Monogram of
"Phineas & Ferb"
okgunsafety.com

Major Monogram: Oh. A card (opens it). It's Happy Passive-Aggressive Relationship day.
Carl: That's ok, sir, I didn't expect a gift or anything. That's all right, sir. (in that tone of voice that clearly indicates he was, indeed expecting something)

There are lots of people of all ages who won't receive Valentines this year, some who don't receive them any year. If you're looking for someone to send a Valentine to, after making sure each child in the class receives one, naturally, try your local Valentines for Veterans program. Consider sending Valentines to the local nursing home.

Encourage your children to participate. It's never too early to learn a little compassion.

Happy Valentine's Day
valentinesdayclipart.com

Beat the Winter Snow Days

2011-02-03T09:04:00.002-06:00

Snow storm, February 2, 2011

If your neighborhood is looking like this and it's too bitterly cold to kick the kids outdoors for even five minutes and they're going crazy indoors, you need some activities to keep them occupied.

Clean your room! My mother used to tell us girls to do this when we'd complain "There's nothing to dooOOoooOO!" Suddenly, we found lots to occupy our time. All kidding aside, snow days are good days to clean rooms. Even if you just tackle the closet and the dresser drawers - weed out those items that no longer fit, reorganize a little, and suddenly - a few hours of boredom have been killed!
Bake. I suggested that Big Sister take inventory of the baking supplies and see if there was enough in stock to do any cookie baking. So far, she hasn't taken me up on that offer. If you're housebound and can't get your car out of the driveway for that emergency cup of sugar, you might consider making some "play-dough" with the kids. PlaydoughRecipe.com has a variety of recipes that should fit any list of ingredients you have on hand, from "Berry Playdough" to "Jello Playdough" to the "Traditional Playdough." Enjoy!
cgi.ebay.co.uk
Retro Stay Alive Board Game

Dig out a few boardgames. If, like us, you have family boardgames that haven't seen the light of day since their purchase five years ago, a snow day is the perfect opportunity to dust them off. Our "Stay Alive" board game is so old, it actually looks like the one in the picture, at right. There are only enough marbles for three players, but no matter - the kids were giggling madly as they ganged up on me to sink my marbles. Don't forget Uno, Spoons, Dominoes, and Chinese Checkers.
If you still have power and board games aren't for you, the kids can always zone out for a bit with the Wii or other computer games.
Make popcorn and plug in a good movie. Or, play a game with the television. We always complain that there are 57 channels and nothing's on, so why not try this? Turn on a show. Any show. At the first commercial break, find a channel that is playing the scheduled program. Watch it until the next commercial break. Change the channel until you find one that is playing the scheduled program. Repeat. Try to get through all 57 or however many channels you have. Movie channels are off-limits and so are infomercials. As long as the programs are appropriate for the age of the viewers, see how many different shows you can expose yourself to, and discover something interesting. You can also do this with the radio - good for long car trips.
Time to get scrapbooking!
commons.wikipedia.com
Get going on those projects you keep putting off! Is your child ready to graduate college and you still haven't put the baby pictures in the scrapbook? Better get going! Or, finish that quilt you've been talking about finishing for the last three years. Finish painting the bathroom. Paint your toenails. Groom the dog. Clean the grout in the shower. All right, just kidding about some of those. Spending some time with an enjoyable project is an excellent way to help the time fly, and to get the kids involved with something besides antagonizing each other.

dptny.org
Valentine for a Veteran
"We love our Veterans!"

Make Valentines. If your kids get on a roll and you have more valentines than recipients, please consider Valentines for Veterans. In fact, make it a point to make more valentines than you need - if you're unable to find a local Veteran group to be the recipients of your children's art work, there are always nursing homes and hospitals with patients who would love to recieve a handmade Valentine.
You could make junior practice his piano lessons.
Declare the day to be a media-free day. No computers, i-pods, cell phones (texting is abolished), television, video games, etc.
Curl up with a good book. Read to the kids, have them read to you. Whether you rely on old childhood favorites or to an action/adventure read-aloud, just enjoy it.
For older kids, you might try window painting. I know - it sounds crazy. But, provided the paint goes where it should, it's inexpensive and fun. Acrylic paints work well, though any paint will do. Windows are cleaned of paint via razorblade (responsible adult, please!) and window cleaner once you're tired of the design. You don't have to be particularly artistic - just paint something and have fun.

The exterior view of a painted window, using acrylic paint.

Charles Schulz's Snoopy and Woodstock

If you can make it through the crazy snowy days of winter, in no time at all the kids will be done with school and ready for summer time boredom. Good luck!

I'm Gonna Call You Out

2011-01-22T08:09:00.001-06:00

dailypostal.com
I'm with you, Mama,
give'em hell.

I'm gonna call you out.

Yeah, you.

shutterstock.com

You, there. Sitting in the lobby chair. Wearing the Brooks Bros. suit and the shiny black shoes. Yes, you there, with the briefcase sitting on the floor.

photosa.ru
Yeah, the lobby
wasn't that big.

Oh, and your three companions, as well. They aren't as nicely dressed as you, perhaps, but so what. I'm still gonna call them out, too.

This lobby isn't so big that you could have possibly missed me. One asthmatic inhale would have given you a clue what shampoo I used that morning, and whether or not I was wearing perfume. Yes, the lobby is that small.

Perhaps "lobby" isn't even the correct word. Let's try entry, which is nicely decorated with two overstuffed chairs and a table with a nice lamp sitting on it. You and another man sat in those chairs while my son, wearing an eye patch and limping along with a cane, stood in the warmth of the entry, which measures perhaps 8 feet x 8 feet at most, while I loaded our car.

We've been at the hotel for a long time, guys. Yes, all four of you, sitting and standing there, putting on that "I don't see you" face.

For us to go home after a long week of medical treatments is a really nice thing. It looks as though you travel guys, so maybe you know how it feels.

But here's the thing.

alohajoemagazine.com
Now, add a wheelchair
to this and you'll
get the idea.

My son, usually the best helper a person could ever ask, can't do a whole lot right now, physically. So that leaves me to literally bear the burden of loading and unloading the car. Burdened down with a child-sized wheelchair which is laden with several bags, a very large duffel bag and a child's messenger bag containing every school book for every subject, and wearing the requisite winter gear for a 16-degree Fahrenheit day and then attempting to negotiate this 8x8 foot space and get out the door (which does not conveniently open with one of those handicapped "press here" buttons - they don't exist at this hotel) is somewhat of a struggle.

It has not yet ceased to amaze me, gentlemen, and I use the term loosely, how you could possibly have missed me as I told my son (wearing the eye patch, and profoundly limping, with his cane) to not worry about getting the (heavy) door for me.

How could you possibly, in good conscience, have just sat there and not even pretended to see that perhaps, just perhaps, with the smallest bit of effort on your part, you could have OPENED THE FREAKING DOOR FOR ME????

But alas, no. It wasn't meant to be. As my son politely said, "I can get that for you, mom," and I responded, "It's ok, honey," because I know he's not very steady on his feet, and he responded, "Ok, I'll just (seeing the chairs were taken) wait here for you," not one of you four men made a move to say, "Can get that for you?"

edgesanfrancisco.com
You give'em hell, too,
mama!

You sat there like useless lumps of flesh, cologned and combed, neatly pressed like paper dolls, as if the mere thought of helping someone by holding a door would displace a hair on your well-combed heads.

Instead, it was as if all of you were making a very studious effort to make sure you didn't meet my eyes. "If I make eye contact, I'll have to get off my dead ass and be useful," you thought. As if the mere absence of eye contact made me invisible to you.

So, once again, I reversed the child-sized wheelchair in order to get it over the hump of the door sill, stuck out my heinie to butt open the door - carefully navigating so as not to comically wedge myself in it due to the oversize duffle bag slung across my back - and proceeded to the exterior door, which. . .
was very kindly opened by a well-dressed woman, ready for the business day, smiling and waiting patiently for me to exit with my load of bags. SHE held the door for me, while waiting to enter with a baggage cart laden with HER bags and parcels.

And I would bet she had no help either from the seated Cro-Magnons sitting in the entryway of the hotel.

I've quizzed people, informally, if this phenomena of mannerlessness is generational or cultural. Two of the men in the lobby looked European-American -- fair-skinned and rather generic in terms of any obviously identifying ethnic characteristics. The other two men were dark-complected and looked like they were from India, though they may have been Americans, as far as I knew. I'd encountered them before, and was fairly certain they wouldn't make a move toward the door since they hadn't for the entire week leading up to this particular day (even though I had my hands full with child, wheelchair, tote bags for various appointments, etc).

Am I not pretty enough to have a door held open for me?

the-american01.xanga.com
Ass-kicking woman

Am I too red-necked, ass-kicking, American Woman (stay away from meee eeee) that men are intimidated and won't offer to hold a door open?

boysinthepink.blogspot.com
O let me serve you
Lord and Master

Am I considered inferior, and therefore it shall always be my lot in life to be burdened like an ass (not to mention burdened by assholes who have no manners) and consider myself fortunate to even pass within the same vicinity of my superiors?
Am I not old nor gray enough to have a door held open?

The men in the hotel lobby were not much younger than I - and I know my parents did their best to instill some manners in me. Most of their teachings have stuck, I'd have to say, though manners really seem to be just extending common courtesies to other people whether or not you know them.

toonzone.com
I'ma gonna call you
out, beeitch!

There is a limit to my good manners, though, I'll give you advance warning. Because after 28 days of hotel living with my child, I can tell you that there have only been two occasions when someone held the door for me. One was a female employee who came from behind the desk to hold the exterior door (and that door is not easily visible from the front desk) and another was a male employee who held the door of the laundry facility for my son and me.
Well, men, I've reached my limit. And the next time I'm shambling through a hotel lobby laden with bags and wheelchairs and a child with obvious physical limits and the rest of you sit there like the flies on shit that you are, I'm gonna call you out.

And I'll do it, too.

Santa Claus is Comin' to . . . My House?

2010-12-31T06:18:00.000-06:00

Santa looks like he needs a drink.

Ahhhh yes. Those of us who partake in Santa Claus Photo Hijinks can certainly relate to this photo on the left, and I can't begin to tell you how many years I spent perched on the old guy's knee myself, with my young daughter, Big Sister, grinning impishly on his lap, eyes watery from recently shed tears.

That made up my mind that I wouldn't force her little brother, Fuzzy, to be in Santa pictures until he was good and ready.

That was a good decision - because Fuzzy was always one of those reserved kind of children - and communications with Santa were best done via the U.S. Mail, and watching the big guy from a safe distance of about the distance of a football field. That was fine with me - it just meant we had less of this sort of thing to deal with (see photo at right).

manofest.com
Don't cry, Santa, it's almost over

As Fuzzy grew older, the photo opportunities with Santa grew fewer and farther between. There was always talk of taking him to visit the jolly old elf, but somehow it never happened.

My heart strings tugged as Fuzzy wistfully said one day, "I sure wish I could see Santa this year." After all, the poor kid is turning another year older soon, which means another year closer to not believing in Santa. What to do, what to do.

Hey - maybe the Big Guy
is onto something, here!
awkwardfamilyphotos.com

We were out of town, living in a hotel at the time, it was about three days before Christmas and I imagined the lines to see Santa at the mall would be huge as tykes of all ages and sizes waited impatiently in line for their turn to see the master toy deliverer himself, and with our schedule - there was no way a visit to Santa would occur, up close and personal.

Imagine my surprise when, our first evening home, the doorbell rang. Who should be standing there but the Jolly Old Elf Himself - Kris Kringle - SANTA CLAUS????

I hadn't said a thing to anyone about Fuzzy's wish, yet - here was Santa, standing on my front porch, laden with bags and boxes of gifts.

Well, let me tell you - there isn't anything else that will restore your belief in the red-suited guy more than seeing him standing, unannounced, on your front porch, just a day or two before Christmas.

Somehow, Santa looks like
the happiest person here!
awkward family photos.com

Fuzzy was delighted. In his reserved and mature way, he treated Santa like any other adult visitor in the house. And, he couldn't take his eye off Mr. Kringle.

Finally - he'd gotten to visit with Santa.

What is one of your favorite holiday memories?

What holiday photos are in your possession that you wish had never been taken?

For more photo fun, check out Awkward Family Photos .

Miscellaneous Musings

2010-12-04T09:34:00.000-06:00

I don't get out much these days, but there is still a lot to observe within the close quarters I'm calling home these days (hospital. No, I haven't been committed though some days I think I should be). Lucky you, the recipient of my meandering mind's output.

I've never seen a larger collection of panty-hose clad legs than I have in this hospital. Usually in the early afternoon, a cluster of prospective job candidates is finishing a round at the hospital. The men are clad in navy suits, and the women are wearing the skirt-suit counterpart and - major gasp - wearing pantyhose with the traditional business-wear navy blue pumps. Being at eye level with all of this one day (I was talking to Fuzzy, in his wheelchair, and also chatting with Fuzzy's doctors) I commented on this. "It sure is nice to see women wearing pantyhose in the business world again," I remarked, then hastened to explain lest the doctors think I was some sort of weirdo, "I was raised in a time when you didn't wear a business suit or dress of any type without nylons." The doctors took notice, possibly because they're men, but possibly because they just hadn't paid attention before. One of them thought that it was just a trend, and in ten years' time, things would change again. He could be right. I just hope that nylons will be a part of a professional wardrobe, for women. Men, too. What the hell.
The hospital is a great place to people watch. The biggest "FAIL" I saw this week was a patient clad in gown and pajama bottoms, wearing a winter jacket and an IV pole, out in the courtyard, smoking a cigarette a few feet away from the "NO SMOKING" sign.
I like the "ethnicity" of this place. The staff is comprised of people of many different cultures and ethnicities, and no one seems to consider this any big deal. It's just all part of daily life, here.
Chair massage. Those two words should be enough, but some of you will be reading that and saying, "Huh? Why would my chair need a massage?" So I'll clarify. Almost daily, there is someone available to do a chair massage for staff, students, parents, etc. It's wonderful. You sit on a padded seat, slightly tilted forward so your knees can rest on a padded ledge that keeps your knees bent at a comfortable angle, and your feet off the floor. Your face rests downward (if you've had a massage before, you'll know how your face rests - the outer edges are resting on this padded thing and your nose, eyes, mouth, etc. are free to breathe, sneeze, etc.), your arms rest comfortably on a padded ledge - it sounds very strange, probably looks even stranger - but seriously, a person could fall asleep on that bizarre chair. Then - the real magic begins. Massaging those neck and shoulder muscles, down the back. Mmmmm.....I'm melting into a big puddle of happily massaged blob. . .
There are a lot of friendly people, here. No one really gets in your face and insists on conversation, but if you're looking lost, someone is bound to stop and ask, "What are you looking for?" and give you directions. It's easy to get lost in this place - it's a bit like a labyrinth.
Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat - please to put a penny in the old man's hat. Yep, Christmas is coming, and I don't have any shopping done to speak of. Do I care? You bet. Am I going to let it bother me? I will get some shopping done. Eventually. Before December 24th. And while I'm feeling a little bit anxious about it, I'm not ready to abandon my bedside post and scramble to the nearest shopping mall to send the credit card into overdrive. Will this Christmas be above and beyond the best, most incredible gift-giving extravaganza ever? Probably not. But, it doesn't *have* to be. Even under normal circumstances, Christmas doesn't have to be "out-done" and "better than last year's." Whatever Christmas may be to you, for me - I'd like it to be less about the stress of shopping and preparing for company and travel, and more about the intangible things. It can be a hard lesson to learn, I'm feeling a lot of impatience to SHOP and get the perfect gifts for the kids and for others. To decorate the house, bake. Plan and schedule gatherings, etc. This year, Christmas won't "happen" quite that way due to circumstances beyond my control. I think I can handle that. I think I might learn something about myself (and others) from that. If I figure out what it is, I'll let you know.
Sometimes it's really hard to accept help from people. We feel embarrassed, self-conscious, like suddenly we're incapable and someone else has to "do" for us. There's no reason to feel like that. For most, the offer to help is genuinely meant, and we must learn to accept it gracefully, and gratefully. There is a song we hear in church periodically, something along the lines of "you will be my faithful servant" and "let me be your servant, too." We may find it easier to help others than to let others help us. It's ok to be "taken care of," and it shouldn't be perceived as a sign of weakness or incompetence. There are many ways to serve and "be served." There are gifts to be found in each.

That's all for miscellaneous musings today.

For those who have wondered, Fuzzy is making progress - we hope to be home in a couple weeks and continue treatment on an out-patient basis. Fuzzy in is good spirits and improving every day. Thank you, everyone, for your care and concern.

Transfer!

2010-11-29T22:35:00.000-06:00

Anyone seen the commercial for Discover?

If I could figure out cut & paste on this hospital computer, I'd put the link here. No doubt you can find it on YouTube. I suggest searching for "Discover Card Transfer" ad, or search for "Peggy Discover Card" and see what you come up with.

Why?

Here's an actual conversation that took place this weekend. If you've seen the Discover ads, or ever had to call for tech support, you can relate:

Chatter communications. How can I help you?

Hi - I need to access my email at your web site, but the site is not recognizing my password, which was reset just two days ago.

Ok. What is the name on the account?

Joe Smith. The address is 123 Main Street, Yourtown, Yourstate, 55555. I don't have the account number since I'm 100 miles away, but I do have the account password.

All right. Let's see if this will work. Hm. Ok, I'll have to transfer you.

(TRANSFER!)

Chatter communications. How can I help you?

I'm trying to access my email through your website, but the site isn't recognizing the password that was changed just two days ago with help from one of your technicians.

What is the name on the account?

(slow burn) Joe Smith. The address is 123 Main Street, Your City, Your Town, 55555. I do not have the account number, but I have the account password. I'm a couple hundred miles away in the hospital with a sick kid and I need to access my email to contact family and all I want is to be able to log in to your web site because for some mysterious reason, I can't get Outlook Express to log in at the home computer, which I realize isn't your problem, but surely you can understand my frustration, here, since I was able to log in at Chatter a few times in the last few days without any difficulty, but now the site won't recognize my password.

What is your password?

Fleas6970.

What is your email address?

Thisemailsucks (at) webaddress.com

Ma'am, I am able to see your account. I see the account was shut down due to four failed attempts to log in. There are messages there. Please, you try to log in now, using your email and password.

(mutter mutter mutter) Nope, not working. Tells me to reenter the email address, password, and service area zip code.

All right. Now try, please?

(mutter mutter mutter) Not working. Now there is a blank screen. The page isn't loading, nor will the page for online chat tech support.

(lather, rinse, repeat about four more times, thus locking out the account)

Ok. Return to the home page for Chatter and look for the yellow box in the lower right corner that says "check email." Click on that.

(mutter mutter) ok. Clicked, there isn't anything happening.

Ma'am, I don't understand. I can see your email, there are new messages coming in.

Well, THANK GOD SOMEBODY can get my email, because I sure can't.

Ma'am, I don't understand why this is happening.

(slow burn) I don't either, and that's why I had to call you. Because I can't get the online chat tech support to load let alone access my email. From your web site.

Ma'am, are you using your home computer?

No, I am dependent upon the hospital system.

Ok. I do not know why this is happening. I think that maybe the system does not have loaded the latest Adobe Flash Player, and that is why it will not allow you to access the email.

Uh yeah. And this is the hospital system, so I have no control over that. So, why did it load the last few times I used the email through your web page in the last few days?

I can't explain that. I would suggest you use another computer?

(thinking: Not exactly freaking convenient. I'm in a hospital and fortunate there's even a computer in the hospital room, let alone being lucky enough to find some unattended computer lying around somewhere, that isn't on the same hospital system my room computer is on) Uh huh.

Is there anything else that I can help you with?

No, thank you .....(hanging up over the "have a nice day," beginning to swear profusely)

I have no doubt that my internet provider is housed in somebody's grimy kitchen with somebody's old muscular mom/granny in the background ironing or stirring something mysterious in a black kettle, and that old-fashioned black telephone receivers with curly cords are being passed person to person as each person in the room yells "Transfer!" into the phone as it is handed back and forth before landing with the original "operator."

Sadly, I don't remember what the name of the person was who answered my plea for tech support. If it turns out her name is "Peggy," as in the other Discover ad for tech support, my life will be complete.

I may have to send her a Christmas card.

Gratitude List

2010-11-22T23:21:00.001-06:00

Thanks to Lisa, over at Grandma's Briefs for inspiring this post.

Let's talk turkey, over some . . . well, turkey and gravy and mashed potaotes. Or, maybe you prefer Chinese take-out for Thanksgiving. Either way - what are you thankful for?

I am thankful for the ongoing (good) recovery of Fuzzy. He's a real hero.
I am thankful for my daughter, Big Sister, who has shown remarkable maturity and understanding these last few, difficult weeks. She is the best kid.
I am thankful for my husband, who has for many years deserved the Daddy of the Year award along with the Best Husband award.
I am thankful for all the good people out there in my real and virtual worlds who have shared their prayers, support, and kind words with us.
I am thankful for those who find medical research to be rewarding and exciting. Where would we be without the results? If that job were left to me - well, let's just say the Phrenology is a science probably better left in the Victorian age.
I am thankful for any chocolate-covered item like peanuts, pretzels, and popcorn.
I am thankful for the ability to work, the fact that I do have a job when so many are unemployed, and that I enjoy my job.
I am thankful that I live where I do. I could live in a country where women are, as the norm, treated as second-class citizens where they are not allowed nor expected to learn to read or write.
I am thankful for the presence of the Chair Massage Lady in this hospital. WOW. That's all I can say. I could sleep in that chair.
I am thankful for pajamas, though I wish people wouldn't wear them in public places.
I am thankful for homemade cookies.
I am thankful that we can pay our bills and still have some money left over.
I am thankful that I have never truly known what it is to be hungry.
I am thankful for the people who read this blog.
I am thankful other bloggers who make my day with their writings.
I am thankful for furry LOLCats.

So - what are YOU thankful for?

After a Day at the Children's Hospital

2010-11-21T21:50:00.000-06:00

After a day at the children's hospital, you will know your way around without hesitation, having worn a path from the Intensive Care Unit to the bathrooms to the waiting room and you'll be able to find your way while set on auto-pilot.

After a day at the children's hospital, you will learn names within minutes of an introduction when normally you are famous for forgetting a name within seconds of hearing it. As a safeguard, you'll keep a small notebook of names/titles and occupations, because at least 20 people will be seeing your child within the first 24 hours of his stay.

Afer a day at the children's hospital, you will have your chlid's story down to the smallest detail because you'll be repeating it to at least eight different times to eight different people. You'll have memorized the onset of each symptom from the firs tmoment and your hindsight will be better than 20/20 as you recall everything form the last six months that should have been an indicator that something was wrong.

After two days at the children's hospital, you will nod in greeting to other familiar faces and recognize who the new parents on the floor are by their shell-shocked looks. You'll be sympathetic, because you looked the same way just the other day.

After three days at the children's hospital, you start to realize the magnitude of all that is happening and the monumental adjustments that will affect daily life and all you formerly took for granted.

After any amount of time in the children's hospital, you will think of all events in your life in one of two ways: B. D. (Before Diagnosis) and A. D. (After Diagnosis). You will learn the true meaning of the phrase "Cautiously optimistic."

After being in the children's hospital for four days, you'll learn that "PICU" is an acronym for "Pediatric Intensive Care Unit" and is often pronounced "PICK-U," and not as an abbreviated form of the name of a Japanese animated character called "Pikachu" (PEEK-U).

After being in the children's hospital any length of time, you'll develop a strong empathy for any family whose child is on a donation canister for a benefit dinner.

After being in the children's hospital any length of time, you will either abandon your faith - angry that a higher power has allowed such pain to be inflicted on a child. or, you may discover a deepening of faith despite your endless wondering over why this is happening to any child, let alone your own.

After being in the children's hospital for a week, you'll start to find humor in odd things. You'll realize that in the rush to pack clothes and meet you at the hospital, your spouse has packed undergarments that haven't seen the light of day in years - and thus should probably have been thrown away years ago - and that you have only one pair of socks to wear. When the teen in the bed next to your child's lets out a huge belch, you'll want to call, Shrek-style, through the curtain, and say, "Better out than in, I always say," but you refrain because you know the kid can't help it. You'll find it odd that the bearded man in the brown 3-piece suit looks mysteriously like John Fitzgerald Byers , a "Lone Gunman" from the show called X-Files, and you'll think, "What the heck is that guy doing here," and then realize that he's part of the staff and not an actor. Likewise, you'd swear in a court of law that one of your nurses was contestant Andrew Garcia on last season's "American Idol." You'll leave the hospital in the morning and return six hours later, and see the same guy upon entering that you saw upon leaving, and fight the urge to start singing, "I'll be seeing you (In all the old familiar places").

After being in the children's hospital for ten days, you'll start to refer to it as "home," as in, "After I get back home, you can go take a rest and I'll see to it that Elroy has some dinner and some company."

After being in the children's hospital for any length of time, you'll have moments when you feel like you were born to deal with tragedy and moments when you feel like there's just no way in hell you'll get through this. Either way, your faith in humanity will be restored because people you barely know will be coming together with those you know well in order to support you. People will pray for you, and you won't feel funny about that. People will hug you, and you'll sag momentarily into their arms, comforted. People will share their stories with you, and you'll listen with a new understanding of their pain. People will overwhelm you with their generosity as they give of their time and their pocketbooks. People will ask how they can help, and then follow through.

After being in the children's hospital any length of time, you'll realize you can't beat yourself up for all the times you told your kids, "In a minute," "Not right now," "Later," "Will you go DO something," and all those other phrases because those phrases are just a normal part of life - and kids need to hear them just as parents have this bizarre need to say them. You'll also realize that every day with your kids, the good and the bad, is a gift - and you'll tell yourself to be thankful for every one you have together.

Thank you everyone, for your support and your kind words. Help lighten the mood, here! Do you have any funny stories to tell from any hospital stays or visits you've made?

It's Been a While

2010-11-17T07:31:00.000-06:00

Dear Readers,

It has been a while, and I apologize. At least - it feels like a long, long while for me, since I've posted anything new.

There has been a big emergency in my family - our little guy, Fuzzy, was diagnosed with a brain tumor and was air-lifted to a major hospital for pediatric care/surgery.

He's doing well after one full week "here," and is soon to be sent to an upgraded room. We have hopes of being home in December. I apologize to those of my friends and family who are reading this news for the first time - not memorizing my email and facebook passwords means that I haven't been able to keep in touch with everyone.

Please - keep my little boy in your prayers, and I hope to hear from all of you again soon in the cyberworld.

Whatever Happened to Childhood?

2010-11-03T14:09:00.129-05:00

pukmall.com
Norman Rockwell
childhood?

"Whatever happened to childhood," posted Danika, a Facebook friend.

"Sadly, making schools socially comfortable for kids is not the legal responsibility of schools," says another Facebook friend, Arielle. "Genuine conflict resolution must be taught."

On Halloween night, one trick-or-treater accepted a treat but left my spouse with a flier advertising a candlelight vigil to raise awareness about bullying.

Recently, a college student committed suicide after his roommate video-taped him having sex, and then sending the video out over the Internet.

The State of Michigan does have a model of an anti-bullying policy , and the Epley family is working hard to ensure that the Michigan legislature will pass an anti-bullying law named in memory of their son, "Matt's Law." Matt's Law, aka House Bill 4580 passed the House in 2009, but according to the web site, legislators are sitting on it until elections. Let's pray and cross our fingers that they get off the stick and pass this law.

ocmauburn.edu
Stop hazing abuse

Matt's Law also can be found on Facebook - search for Matt Safe School Initiative.

According to the web site, Matt Epling.com, Matt had been assaulted by some upper-classmen at his school as part of a "welcome to high school" hazing. He was in the eighth grade at the time. The site does not go into detail about what happened to Matt, but it was serious enough that the family was moving ahead to press charges. As the day drew nearer to the family's filing the paperwork, etc., Matt ended his life.

Danika and Arielle don't know each other, and they don't live in the same town. But it's obvious these are two parents who are ready for action, because they know something isn't working with the system that is in place in their schools. Either their own children are being bullied, or they're hearing too many reports from their children about other kids being picked on.

I talked recently with a substitute teacher who asked, "Why do you the kids have Health instead of a foreign language? What do they talk about," he asked, "nutrition?"

I said yes, they do cover basics like the food pyramid, but that Health class is more of a "life skills" class, and tries to give kids some skills in dealing with bullies, anger management, fire safety, trick-or-treat safety, etc. ALL THE THINGS THE KIDS SHOULD GET AT HOME BUT FAR TOO MANY KIDS DON'T GET THIS AT HOME.

Sorry for shouting.

happychildhood.us
"Do unto others as you
would have them
do unto you."

In recent weeks, anti-bullying programs are being talked about in many school districts. Most districts have something in the student handbook about bullies and the district policy on dealing with such, but all too often the behavior is dismissed or filed under something else that isn't specifically "bully" related, enabling the behavior to continue.

When I was in 4th grade, a bunch of kids were making fun of kids' names in class one day. I had a name that was fun to have fun with. I got tired of hearing the name, and turned it around on the boy who started it all. I turned his name into something like "Fish turd." You know the 4th grade mentality : they thought it was hilarious, and started chanting it.

The boy started to cry, and he said, "My NAME. That's my NAME."

Well, I felt horrible, though in all likelihood my first thought was, "Oh crud, now I'm going to get in trouble." Even though I didn't start the name game, it appears I ended it, but I still felt badly that I had made this boy cry. I apologized to him, he accepted, and thankfully, the name game didn't carry on past that particular moment.

Bullying? Perhaps. An isolated incident? In this case, yes. Had the name game continued into infinity, then I would definitely define the incident as bullying.

eddfund.org
A truly neat individual.

For any kid who is bullied, it may not matter so much why the bullying occurs, it just matters that it happens at all. For a kid who is physically/mentally/emotionally impaired, they are far too often an easy mark for kids who would otherwise spend their time torturing pets and ripping wings off of insects. The bullies would rather not get to know someone who is perceived as "different" because they are probably afraid of being associated with someone who, if they got to know that person, is genuinely a neat individual. For kids who are percieved as "normal," being bullied can be just as traumatic. Some kids, regardless of race, culture, ability, economic status, etc, are what one relative calls, "bully bait." No matter what they say or do, it's always the wrong thing.

Every kid needs for school to be a safe place. Every kid needs to know that disrespectful behavior will not be tolerated. Every kid needs to know that it is all right to stand up for someone, to stand up to someone and not have to fear retribution by an adult or another student. Every student needs to know that s/he does not have the right to bully someone else.

latinoreview.com
Marty's dad

Ask anyone of any generation, and they'll tell you that bullying happened back in their day, and everyone survived, that it wasn't heard about then the way it is now. But, if we were to pull a Marty McFly and go Back to the Future, what would people say? Would we find someone in his 60s, who would admit to being bullied because he fell in love with another boy, a classmate? Would we find someone in their 70s who admits to every school day being torture because not only did the students tease her, but so did her teacher, because of a speech impediment? Might someone in their 80s admit they were tormented because they were poor? Might someone who is 35 share the story of how he was towel-whipped in the locker room but didn't report it, because "that's just what the guys did," then? Is it possible that someone in their 40s would admit being bullied because she didn't live in the right neighborhood? Would your 15-year-old tell you that he is bullied because he is shorter than most of his classmates, and therefore perceived as effeminate? Does your kindergartener confide that she is lonely at school, because at recess time, it is never her turn to play a game? Might your ten-year-old admit that she is teased and her belongings cruelly hidden because she is overweight? Is it possible someone would say they don't know what their sibling thought of bullying, because that person committed suicide?

sjbcommunity.com
Looks like an easy puzzle,
doesn't it?

According to one source, Michigan is one of five states without an anti-bullying law. "U.S. Secretary of Education Arne Duncan announced that school districts that don't try and curb bullying could risk losing funding," according to a recent newspaper article.

Wouldn't it be nice if school districts would have an anti-bully policy in place, without the threat of loss of funding? Just - you know - have something in place beyond the zero-tolerance policies that don't work? Some argue the policies criminalize the victim, or they don't allow enough flexibility to interpret the incidents within the contexts in which they occur.

A better alternative just may be the conflict resolution that my friend Arielle suggests.

antibullyingposters.com
This should apply in
the workplace, too.

Once again, I strongly recommend a book called "The Everything Parents Guide to Dealing With Bullies." Published within the last year, it contains information about the signs your child is being bullied, common bully myths (not all bullies are, themselves, bullied children), and what to do if your own child is the bully. There are also helpful web sites noted, and organizations listed to help you get information about anti-bullying programs.

November 15 - 19, 2010

Bullying Awareness Week.

Why wait until November 15th to educate yourself? Check out the links that are within this post. Spread the word. The bullying stops here.

bloggirlscouts.org

Halloween Wrap-up

2010-11-02T06:41:00.000-05:00

Random thoughts on Halloween 2010:

thevault.cx
Well, at least he wore a
costume.

344 trick-or-treaters, including 5 adults.
Really, adults? Get a job and buy your own candy. On November 1st, the candy is marked down at all the stores. You can get that bag of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups for half-price. Though I do appreciate that you at least put on a mask in an attempt to be festive.
One friend has pondered saving candy wrappers and putting a note inside saying, "Grow up," and putting those in the candy bags of the adults who come to her door.
Poor little guy who came to the door, looking woebegone. Face all scabby like he'd had an encounter with Freddy Krueger days before, wearing a vacant expression, and not quite making eye-contact, with a worn-out mom in the background encouraging him to "Say trick or treat, honey." This little guy doesn't need Halloween once a year - he needs it more often because it looks like every day is hell for him.
Pre-teens in hot pants and fishnet stockings: I know it's a Halloween costume, but something tells me you really don't mind wandering the neighborhood - or anywhere else - on a going basis,with your ass half-exposed. HEAVY SIGH I'm so glad that the kids I escorted had their body parts decently covered.

ipernity.com
Actually, the young girl I saw
was showing a little more
cheek.

Our town has no "set" trick or treat hours, but typically kids start around 5:30 p.m., or whenever it starts getting dark, whichever comes first. One gleesome threesome started making the rounds at around 3:45 p.m. What the heck? That's a little bit early, in my estimation. After a few rounds of door pounding, doorbell ringing, and hollering "trick-or-treat," the kids packed into the family car and drove off - bags empty. With 344 kids on the average, if we start handing out candy at 3:45 p.m., it'll never last.

Not exactly the costume
I saw, but close enough.
chasing-fireflies.com

Which leads me to this: If you're trick or treating that early in this neighborhood, it's obvious you don't live in this neighborhood. Yes, I know. There are kids who live out in the country where there are not homes close enough together to easily partake of free treats; apartment dwelling kids; kids in unsafe neighborhoods, etc. But I know darned well that there are not 344 children in residence in this neighborhood in which I live. Halloween is easily becoming an expensive holiday for this household, running second only to Christmas (and that's another story).

wondercostumes.com
Don't sit on his lap!

Cutest costume award goes to the toddler dressed as a turkey - a brown body suit with tail feathers stuck on the back side, which bounced delightfully at every step.
Coolest costume award goes to the 6-foot tall Darth Vader who came to the door with a little Princess Leia in tow.
Most interesting and creative costume award goes to the kid dressed as a Whoopee Cushion.
Many, many children said "thank you" upon receipt of their treat. Good job, moms and dads!

It's the Great Pumpkin,
Charlie Brown

Do you think every town should have a set time for trick-or-treats?
Do you think kids/adults of a certain age should be banned from public trick-or-treating?
Would you give an adult candy at trick-or-treat time, costumed or not?
Do you give parents candy when you know darn well the baby/toddler isn't going to eat it?
Do you have a candy hierarchy based on creativity of costume, age of trick-or-treater, or do you prefer "candy equally to all" on Halloween?

pbase.com
Happy Halloween, everyone!

Thursday Pot Pourri

2010-10-28T08:47:00.002-05:00

When your kids are sick, are you the sympathetic mom who hovers just the right amount, always there to soothe a fevered brow, receiving thankful looks and wan smiles from your little patient? Or do you turn into drill sergeant mom, who barks orders at the sick child to "DRINK THAT, OR ELSE!" and "WAKE UP! IT'S TIME FOR YOUR MEDICINE!" Which mom are you, and why?

You must remember the special supplies you used in school - those things that were only hauled out when you were learning a new skill that required a ruler, or a compass? Think of the things you'd do with that ruler. Helicopters. Swords. All-purpose whacking sticks. Markers were fun, too - who didn't stack them end-to-end to see if it would stand up in a sword fight before teacher turned around? Remember the big, pink erasers? They served better as pencil holders than erasers: Dig that pencil tip into the eraser - there! You can always find your pencil, now. What is the goofiest thing you ever used your school supplies for? The following comes to you courtesy of GraphJam:

Mental Floss contains a host of articles to keep you ~~procrastinating~~ ~~researching~~ busy for a few hours. Since Halloween is coming up, here are a few costumes from the article "Halloween Costumes to Inflict upon the Innocent." What is your favorite Halloween costume from childhood?

Baby lobster: Who could resist?

Come on, we all know you blame your own farts
on the baby.

Just in case you thought YOUR workplace was the only truly bizarre place to be, check this out:

"Meet Chuck, the Dark Lord of data entry." Picture Itookatwork.com

And you thought YOU had the co-worker from hell? P.S. When your religious education director asks you what you like the kids to call you, "Spawn of Satan" is probably not the best answer. Did you ever work with someone who truly gave you the willies?

A final nod to Halloween, courtesy of GraphJam. How do you rate your Halloween candy? Or, rather, your kids' Halloween candy? I know the chocolate always ranked first, and the Slo Pokes toward the bottom of the list, along with the ubiquitous hard lumps of Bazooka Gum, which was only closely preceded by DumDum Suckers. Just in case your brain is still on sugar overload from last year's Halloween intake, here's a handy-dandy chart to help you organize which treats to pilfer from the children:

graphjams.com

What is your favorite Halloween candy?

Commemorative Plate Hell and other Things we Should Live Without

2010-10-24T12:07:00.002-05:00

Every Sunday newspaper brings with it many advertisements for useful as well as entirely useless "What the HELL were they thinking" things.

What the HELL were they thinking?

The prize this week goes to whomever decided monkeys were really cute and marketed this (photo at right).

In my opinion, the only cute monkey is the one behind bars in a zoo, or running wild in some place I'll never encounter it. I personally find monkeys rather . . . disgusting.

Curious George,
who was a good little monkey
and always curious.
newton.lib.ia.us

Except for Curious George. Who was, as we all know, a good little monkey and always curious.

I don't know what it is. Perhaps there are more people in this world with a large amount of expendable income who are really into collecting this sort of thing.

I have nothing against people who want to collect things, because I have my fair share of "collections" like books, stickers, and stationery products that I use up, and fabric (which I also use up) and stuff like that. But - I really wonder WHY in the world would anybody want to collect a statue of a monkey named "Mollie" who is wearing a toddler girl outfit and not looking at all the least bit cuddly? Oh, and this object can be had "for 5 interest-free installments of just $29.99" (that translates into just $149.95, if you don't want to do the math).

Michaelangelo's David
garden-statues.com

What .... did Michaelangelo create this creepy looking monkey, and thus justify the cost?

Princess Diana & Prince Charles
Too bad he turned into a frog
thriftshop.net

I think not.

The next worst thing, I think, would be to start purchasing commemorative plates. I know I want to memorialize Princess Diana & Prince Charles, Elvis (young and swinging, as well as old and pudgy), the Beatles, and various objects that let the world know how materialistic I really am - like motorcycles, antique cars, and whatnot.

"Now they're singing for Jesus."
sonic.net

I'm thinking my personal favorite, though is this one.

For all I know, Jesus liked Elvis's gospel tunes as well as the irrepressibly danceable "Jailhouse Rock." He might also have greatly enjoyed "Thriller" and "She's Outta my Life." Perhaps Jesus even, for a time, donned a sparkled glove and slicked his hair back in an Elvis-style pompadour.

Somehow though, the image of Our Savior with his arms outstretched and upraised in the background of a man in black who looks like a circus clown and a man who looks, without his mic, like he might be ready to vomit, doesn't strike me as particularly - reverent - let alone like He is happy to have Elvis and Michael bopping about in the heavenly clouds.

I wonder, instead, if our Savior is saying, "Aw come on Dad, do I HAVE to have my picture taken for a commemorative plate with these two? I mean, I like Elvis - he was a good boy and loved his mother (Jesus, and America, too), and I know Michael was a good boy when he was a boy, but - well, I'm really not sure this is an image I want to portray to our faithful, Dad . . . Can I take a rain check?"

School Pictures Suck

2010-10-21T07:08:00.000-05:00

If today were Friday, I'd call this post The Friday Fumbles.

As it stands, it's only Thursday - and Thursday morning, at that.

My mind is empty of any rational thought.

Instead, there are a jillion things roaming around my brain, colliding and trying to make some sort of sense. I'm sure all of us have days like that, and it's not just me.

All I can think of right now are school pictures. That's a bad thing.

School pictures have got to be one of the worst forms of torture known to mankind. Our school photos have been sent home within the last day or two, and I must say, they are truly horrific. Being employed at a school, I am required to have a photo identification card.

chicagodancesingles.com

I dutifully wait in line for my turn at the camera. Gone are the days when you'd sit on the stool with your head turned one way, torso another, and from the waist down pointing yet another direction. Now, there are paper feet to stand on - remniscent of those old "Learn to dance" cut-out feet.

And, the head&shoulders pose is now passe. Along with the new, cut-out feet, we are subjected to the 3/4 body shot. From about waist up, hands folded demurely, this pose shows every bulge and clothing wrinkle you possess.

Grandpa Simpson

No one can possibly be more adept at making your 4th grader look stoned, the most attractive person look like they got hit by a Mack truck, the least attractive person look even more unattractive, find the wimpiest poses, the most age-inappropriate poses - capturing into infinity the way we weren't back in "dickety-two" (as Grandpa Simpson would say).

Here are some yearbook photo gems to help us tip our hats to the School Photographer.

Let no child be left behind from the pain of school photos.

bodybuilding.com
Looks like something from
the set of "Saved by the Bell."

huffingtonpost.com
Mug shot, mayhap? Well, at
least he looks happy.

ebaumsworld.com
Mirror, Mirror, in my hand
This is the weirdest pose in the land.

current.com
No, wait. THIS is the weirdest
pose in the land.

huffingtonpost.com
Reminds me of "Meathead" from All in the Family.

tvguide.com
Meathead, All in the Family

badyearbookphotos.com
Don't mess with her - not only can she bake that
cherry pie, Billy Boy, she can whup your ass, too.

buzzfeed.com
Yep. Another photo of some innocent
girl looking stoned out of her mind.

huffingtonpst.com
What the hell?

awfulyearbook.com
The web site title says it all.

huffingtonpost.com
I loved the 1980s, and would have (possibly) killed
to have hair that looked like this every day.

huffingtonpost.com
Huffington Post dubbed this photo "Eat my Shorts." Seems
appropriate. I feel kind of bad for the guy, though, being immortalized
this way because nobody insisted he go to picture re-take day.
Oh. Maybe this IS the retake.

badyearbookphotos.com
He doesn't just *look* stoned, he probably is.

badyearbookphotos.com
I like a guy who knows how to dress up.
I'm betting it was the photographer who
was stoned during this take, though.

Duck, Duck, Goosed

2010-10-18T18:15:00.000-05:00

Mama Kat over at Mama's Losin' it is at it again, with her weekly writing prompts and challenges. This week, her list of prompts invites us to write about a "wardrobe malfunction," a phrase coined after the mishap at the 2004 Super Bowl half-time festivities.

My own wardrobe malfunction was not quite so dramatic. First, it didn't happen in front of millions of avid football fans. Also, it didn't bare anything that was really worth mentioning, let alone seeing. But let's face it. At one point or another, all of us have had some sort of "wardrobe malfunction," whether it be the shoelace that never stays tied, the neck tie that is always crooked, the pants zipper that never stays zipped, the bra strap that never stays in place, just to name a few.

The Breakfast Club
How angst-filled
can we get?
impawards.com

So, here's my big wardrobe malfunction story.

andyscarpets.com

I'm in high school.

Oh, the angst.

In drama class, we're playing a lively round of "Duck, Duck, Goose," which can be a really good warm-up activity to get the students loosened up and less focused on their angst (because you know how high school can be) and ready for some dramatic activity.

The class is having a good time. We're gamely chasing the Goose, hoping that we can get the Goose before he/she slips back into the empty space within the circle, so we don't have to run around like . . . a silly goose.

clothing.shop.ebay.com
remember the pantyhose
package?

I had an afternoon job that started right after lunch, and didn't have much time to go back home to change clothes. It was an office job, and even though I was a student, I had to dress up a little bit. On the fateful Duck, Duck, Goose day, I was wearing my high heels, nylons - yes, once upon a time, teen-aged girls and older women alike wore - gasp - pantyhose!!!! - when they dressed up.

My skirt was a pencil skirt - slim-fitting, slightly longer than the one pictured here (below), and had a slit up the back so you could walk.

Of course, someone picked me as the Goose - I had already ditched my shoes, because only Charlie's Angels types and women on police shows can run in high heels. But, as I jumped up, the slit in the back of my skirt got just. . . a little. . . bit . . . longer. With a resounding RRRRiiiiIIIIIIP.

For a brief moment, everyone stopped, wondering what that sound was.

Indecision.

misook.com

Chase?

Sit down in mortification?

Run, sobbing, from the room?

Chase?

Chase. Definitely.

Sans high-heeled shoes, with a ripped out seam, I chased my Goose and got him before he could sit down in the empty place in the circle.

No-Pants Dance
People of Walmart

I laughed, along with everyone else. What else was there to do? Even though the seam in the back of my skirt had ripped, I still exposed less skin than some people who hang out at Walmart. And, unlike the shopper on the right, nobody in the class knew if my underwear was pink, or tighty-whitey. Because, back then, girls also wore slips with their skirts or dresses. The rip just made the skirt look like a mini-skirt that hadn't been completely cut off, yet.

After Goosing my prey, the teacher suggested I hie myself to the home ec. room to see if the teacher there would be willing to stitch up my skirt. There, I was gently but firmly lectured by the home ec. teacher that she had classes to teach, and under no circumstances could she take time out of her class to stitch up my skirt and she really wished that other teachers would quit sending their students to her with their wardrobe malfunctions (Except, back in the 1980s, "wardrobe malfunction" didn't exist in our lexicography).

But, she did have safety pins. So, thanking the teacher profusely, I headed to the bathroom to pin my skirt back together until such time as I could head home and change into something else. Safety pins were a much better alternative to the stapler, for sure.

The next day in class, I had a little teasing to put up with - but not much, I think, because I handled the incident with humor. Hey, I tagged the Goose out, so why not laugh?

Kids: Life's Great Paradox

2010-10-11T06:47:00.000-05:00

More accurately, the title should read, "Kids: Our attitude toward them is paradoxical." Is paradoxical even a word?

thundafunda.com

We can't wait to have children. Then, we have them. To paraphrase Shrek, "They poop and they cry and they cry when they poop and they eat and they cry and they cry when they eat and then they poop some more. . ." and we say, "Man, I can't wait until this kid is potty trained and sleeps through the night."
When the kids were potty trained, it was like getting a pay raise. When they slept through the night, we still woke up at 3 a.m. and would tiptoe into the bedroom and make sure they were still breathing.

andyspiders.com

We love holding the babies. They're small, cherubic, warm, snuggly. And we say, "Holy cow, I can't wait until this kid is old enough to walk because my back is killing me from carrying him/her all over, wherever we go." Then, the kid learns to walk and we wish for a way to corral him so he stays out of mischeif.

gmhightechperformance.com

At first, we're so thrilled to see and own every piece of baby paraphernelia known to mankind. Then, as baby grows, we say, "This crap is expensive! What do we need that for?" And you buy it anyway. You say, "I can't wait until they outgrow this stuff and we don't have to buy it anymore."
Then, we discover by around age sixteen, the price of the kid's toys has gone up considerably.

youngadults.about.com

Our kids drive us crazy, we think, and we say we can't wait until the move out of the house. No more waiting up nights, wondering if they're all right while they're out with their friends. No more hollering, "Turn down that music!" or "Take out the trash!" or "Did you do your homework?" Then, the kids are off to college, or moving out "for good," and suddenly we wish they were home, again.

maternitybykoren.com

We say, "Just wait until you have kids of your own," because we feel we are superior in our knowledge that our own kids will be driven absolutely crazy like we were. We say, "I hope you have a kid just. . . like. . . yourself." And we mean it, for every time our kids were sullen, snotty, sweet, caring, kind, wise. . ." And then, our kids have kids and suddenly we feel old - because we're grandparents, and in holding that grandchild, we suddenly remember what it was like to hold our own for the very first time - and how we were so thrilled to have that new life. And then we remember that it's time for the 3 a.m. feeding and we say, "They poop and they cry and they cry when the poop. . ."

As my daughter said to me the other day, "What is it with grown ups? One day they want us to be babies, and the next day they want us to be grown up."

I said, "Just wait until you have kids of your own."

More Monday Miscellaney

2010-10-04T06:49:00.001-05:00

lolcats - icanhascheezburger.com

It's Monday, and I've got "It's Friday, I'm in Love," on the brain. I guess this means it's time for more Monday Miscellaney. Lucky you!

There's nothing like your pre-teen telling you the computer keyboard is frozen to start your day off right. After a change of batteries, some messing around with clicking this button or that, running the virus scan and restarting the computer, the keyboard works again. Whew. Double whew. I'd be lost without the home computer.
I'm thinking Halloween is my favorite holiday, hands-down. I mentioned to a relative last night that "We're getting ready for Halloween, here," and got the response, "WHAT? It's only October 3!" That gave me pause for all of five seconds. I'll blame it on having kids, though I suspect that even without the kids, I'd have gotten out the pumpkins and skeletons anyhow. At least I waited until October 2nd to do it. I like the costumes, the free candy (though, at my age, the candy isn't free anymore), and the decorations. It's rather low-pressure, unlike Christmas.
It's weird to start seeing people you know in the obituary column who are your age. This isn't a new phenomenon by any means, but it always takes one by surprise.
Why is it that during 40-degree weather, I still see people wearing flip flops? Seriously? I can't wait until snowfall. Wonder how many will be losing toes to frostbite.

totalfilm.com
"MY TOES! MY TOES! Why didn't
I wear my fur-lined boots?"

I feel privileged to help serve Mass at our local parish. My family is on the schedule once a month. For the last 6 weeks, however, we've not only served on our scheduled date and time, but also been pinch-hitting for others who don't bother to show up, let alone arrange for a substitute. My husband has lately taken to asking me, "Are you scheduled to do anything, this time?" My response is usually, "No," which he quickly follows up with, "Yeah, until you get there." Then he stifles snickers of "I told you so," when someone taps my shoulder and says, "Can you fill in, today?" I really don't mind - except that I'm starting to feel resentful toward those who are finding it impossible to fulfill their committment. To them, I'd like to say, "You signed on for this. It is one hour, one weekend, per month. If you can't fulfill the duty, then ask to be taken off the schedule, and until that happens, find someone to fill in for you. You aren't the only person who might like to sit with their family now and then during a church service. It is extremely rude and inconsiderate of you to skip out when you know you're scheduled, and then when you do show up, it's within two minutes of start time - leaving everyone to wonder if you'll even be here. You can do better than that!"

thegreenhead.com
peanut butter & jelly spreader

Wow, but I'm tired of fundraisers. Every year, our school does the same fundraiser. In my opinion, the catalog is full of stuff that could be purchased elsewhere, and for less. For example, those handy suction-cup containers you can stick in the shower - the catalog had them for $2.00 more than the local Meijer. The chocolates look mouthwateringly delicious until you get them. Then, you discover they're all about the size of a fifty-cent piece and 2/3 of the box is raised cardboard with the chocolates artfully spread on top of that to make the container look like it's brimming with sweetness. And I really need to spend $7.50 on a "peanut butter & jelly spreader." I'm thinking most of this stuff probably comes from the Lillian Vernon catalog to begin with.
Excuses, excuses. I do feel badly, sometimes, when kids tell me they've lost an important piece of homework, or that they couldn't do the homework because they were being shuffled here and there, often at the parent's whim and will, and no one had time to sit down and help with the work. Other times, it's generally a case of the kid being extremely disorganized and sitting in front of the computer or video games instead of prioritizing what really needs to be done.

sweetcatastrophecakes.blogspot.com

At what grade, in school, do you remember the teacher having to tell the class, "In order to get a birthday treat, you need to be seated at your desk and not swarming Alfred. I expect to hear a 'thank you' to Alfred when he brings your treat to you." Now, I'm not so old as to believe that my elementary school days are filled with rosy-cheeked, well-behaved children. I'm sure we were little monsters at times - in fact, I know we were. But - I seriously don't recall my teachers ever telling us to be seated at birthday treat time. I don't think most of us dared to swarm the birthday kid, hoping to pick over each decorated cupcake in hopes of getting the one with the most frosting. Really, kids? You're ten and eleven years old now. What happened to manners?

makeupadviceforum.com

Of course, what can I expect when I see what's left in the staff room of the rolls from a meeting. Someone took out the center part of the roll and left the rest in the box. My reaction was laughing disbelief: This is something we'd do to each other, at home, I thought - recalling the days when my brothers would say, as one of us eyed that last piece of pie or cake, "That's mine - I spit on it."
That lipstick you were so happy to find that cost $1.99? It's going to go on your lips like $1.99, too. Ever try to color your lips with crayon? Not even a Crayola, but one of those generic off-brand crayons? That's what $1.99 lipstick is like. Don't waste your money. On the other hand, if the lipstick is $1.99 because it's been marked down from $12.00 or something, stock up.
While I'm on the subject of lipstick, why is it when I look at the wide array of colors available I end up purchasing something nearly the same shade as what I have at home? I guess I'm just meant to wear one shade of lipstick.
Where art thou, 2 yards of black lace? I've searched high and low for this lace now that I want it for a Halloween costume, and do you think I can find it? Just my luck, I'll find it November 1st.

Well, that's enough Monday Miscellany for me, and likely, for you. What random thoughts are on your mind, today?

Dishonesty = Disappointment

2010-09-29T07:14:00.001-05:00

Today's post courtesy of Writing Prompts by Mama Kat.

allfreevectors.com

No one ever escapes from life unscathed by a teacher.

deadhomersociety.wordpress.org

No one - I hope - ever escapes from life untouched by a teacher, as well. In a POSITIVE way, people, a POSITIVE way.

But - let's return to the first idea.

I can't say that I've ever been damaged by a teacher in any serious long-lasting way, but there have been a few times that I've been severely annoyed, or "sorely vexed," as a 6th grade science teacher used to say.

Back in the college days, I had to take a Debate class. All of us were stunned senseless as the professor entered the room, talking a mile a minute, as though he were involved in a timed debate - but we recovered after he hit about the 50th sentence in 2 minutes, and started scribbling notes furiously in our notebooks. This would be the pace for taking notes for the rest of the semester, we learned. But it was good practice for our own classroom debates, because as all debaters know, you take notes on your opponent's presentation so that you can refute and poke major semi-truck holes in their arguments.

abriefhistoryofdisbelief.org

Our topic that year was about apartheid in Africa. Please don't ask me now what on earth we dug up to debate, but many of the arguments centered around so many American corporations who were contributing to the negativity of apartheid by selling their products on that continent. I was fortunate enough to be teamed with a star debater - a beginner, like myself, but Lily really knew her stuff, and she just sparkled. With thanks to Lily, both of us received good marks for our part in the debate process in the classroom. I had scads of notes, but apparently wasn't too organized because one student in the class approached my partner, rather than me, to ask if she could borrow Lily's notes.

Lily was gracious, outgoing, and helpful. She and another student, and I, had many study sessions so we could get through our class tests and exams. I think, without those study groups, my final grade in the class would have suffered greatly! So, Lily was helpful and loaned her notes to this other student.

The next class session, the Other Student and her partner were scheduled to debate. The professor was absent, and there was no substitute on hand to take his place. Instead, he sent a video camera to record the debate so that he could grade it in that manner.

flickr.com
Sparks shot from Lily's eyes

Other Student and her partner fired up the debate with the other team. Soon, amidst the scribbling of my notes (all of us were required to take notes) I noticed many classmates looking astonished. They looked from me, to my partner, Lily, and back again. Their pencils and pens went down on the paper. Almost everyone stopped writing. Someone next to me said, "That's YOUR debate Other Student is giving." I looked up. I actually listened instead of writing. My partner, Lily, was shooting sparks from her eyes - but no one dared interrupt the debate.

123nonstop.com
Other Student stole Lily's work

Class ended, and a cluster of students surrounded Lily and me, talking angrily about the stolen debate. Other Student was quick to defend herself, with some such remark as, "Well, we're all talking about the same thing - I just borrowed Lily's notes, I didn't use them word for word," which was patently untrue. There were enough upset people in the class, including my now, noteless, partner, that obviously something was wrong.

We were dependent on the video tape providing the proof needed - which one student had been enlisted to return to the professor's office that day.

Reluctantly, we vacated the classroom, which was needed for the next group of students. The weekend passed with my partner and I in a state of untold tension as we waited for the next Debate class. The professor could barely enter the room before the majority of the students erupted, demanding justice for Lily and me - but primarily Lily - it had been her debate that had been stolen by Other Student.

photos.com
Nyah, nyah.
Other Student

The professor calmly asked for each side to be presented. Of course - it's a debate class, right? We explained about the loaning of the notes. A loan. Many classmates supported this, stating that the words and phrases used by Other Student had first been gloriously and devastatingly presented by Lily, just the previous week. Other Student stated she had only borrowed the notes, but had since misplaced them ("So sorry," was her half-assed apology) - but that her portion of the debate had, indeed, been her own.

Lily couldn't prove the debate had been stolen, she had loaned her notes - and the borrower had lost them. Other Student couldn't prove that she had used her own work, because her notes - along with Lily's - had been conveniently "misplaced."

We said, "What about the video tape?" Professor could watch Other Student's debate and compare it with the tape of Lily's presentation.

And then the bad news came.

The professor said that the tape had never reached his office.

commons.wikimedia.org

We sat in stunned silence. All the proof we needed to show that Other Student had defied college rules and committed the gravest academic dishonesty were all out the window. Who was responsible for this tape's delivery? We looked around the room. Another student, who sat in a cluster usually surrounding Other Student, raised his hand and said he had, indeed, delivered that video tape to the office.

Given the company he kept, the majority of us were skeptical. "Well, have them present the debate again," we clamored. The other team was willing, they didn't mind re-stating their side of this debate topic, as well as helping to prove that Other Student was a liar.

en.wikipedia.org
the irate posse

The professor demurred. "We don't have the luxury of time," he stated. The rest of that session was a wasted effort on his part. After hearing those words, no one could concentrate. A posse of irate students followed the professor to his office after class, demanding a do-over, and a failing grade for Other Student for her blatant theft of my partner's words. The professor stopped at his office door long enough to tell us he would be taking into account all the information he had, and closed his door.

My partner and I, for the remainder of the semester, did our best to complete the requirements of the class. Lily went on to enter many Forensic competitions and came away with many awards. She aced the class. My grade was less than her stellar example, but I still did all right. Other Student continued to attend class, looking smug and secure in the front row, Video Tape Delivery Boy sitting right alongside her. Classmates who were assigned to debate Other Student and her partner were absolutely ruthless.

It was very disappointing and an extremely difficult lesson to absorb that in a university setting such dishonesty would be allowed. Many of us lost respect for the professor after that incident, and I wonder if he ever depended on a video tape to monitor his classes when he had to be absent.

Was there a time when you were disappointed by a teacher? Was there a time when you were inspired by a teacher?

Curses! Writing Again!

2010-09-22T19:03:00.002-05:00

etsy.com

Those of us who are of a certain age remember being in early elementary school and learning how to do cursive writing. Cursive writing was a major milestone, akin to having learned the multiplication tables or how to tie your shoes.

Cursive writing and multiplication tables were drilled into my brain in the 3rd grade. I had a teacher who was probably a former nun (my mom tells me that the good Sisters in the parochial school she attended all had beautiful penmanship). Her handwriting was beautiful, consisting of fabulous loops and swirls, all looking very artistic and like calligraphy as she chalked each letter on the board (yes, with actual chalk. I was in 3rd grade back in the 1970s) for her students to attempt to imitate on their paper.

It was a wonderful thing for us to finally be able to actually write our papers, instead of printing them. We begged. We looked forward to it so much. We would pretend we knew our cursive letters and scrawl squiggly and loopy notes to each other. By the end of our third grade year, all of us were proficient with cursive writing.

Being able to do cursive writing meant entering the adult world. Grown-ups wrote in cursive. Now, I could read Grandma's letters without help. Reading cursive writing went hand in hand with learning how to write in cursive. Until that point, anything written in cursive was pretty much a mystery. Learning to read and write in cursive opened up a whole new world for a kid.

In today's world, cursive writing tends to bring on more curses from kids than anything else. Well, they'll groan and complain a lot, but I'm very sure they're cursing under their breath as they wait for one brave soul to raise a hand and ask, "Do we have to write it in cursive?"

During my first year spent with upper-elementary kids, I was aghast at this question. "Are you kidding me?" I thought. "Why wouldn't you write in cursive?" Turns out many of the kids weren't too fond of cursive writing. Many of them found it difficult, and had trouble connecting the letters, one to the other.

imitation of student handwriting

Apparently, more emphasis is placed on "technology skills" than on the practice of cursive handwriting. This is understandable to an extent, because kids have to learn to be computer savvy at an early age. Computers are in classrooms, schools have computer labs, many libraries have given up that dinosaur called a card catalog in favor of having everything on the computer system.

A real, live card catalog used to live in
that big brown set of drawers.
See libraryhistorybuff.com

Even photo reprints are done with the help of a computer. Rarely does one drop a canister of film in an envelope and hand it to the clerk behind the counter. Now, you use your disk (or whatever) to reprint your own photos - via computer. Businesses shut down when the computer sysem is down. Nothing is done "by hand" anymore.

All that aside, cursive writing is going by the wayside. I'm sure people had qualms about handwriting when the typewriter came along, just as people wondered about the fate of the handwritten letter (and the U. S. Postal Service) when the Internet came along and e-mail became the way to communicate. Now, people complain that texting has taken the place of face-to-face commnication (but that's a blog for another day).

Somehow, the doom of handwriting never happened after popularity of the typewriter waned. I wonder, though, if cursive writing is doomed to become a thing of the past - like walking uphill both ways to school, barefoot, in the snow.

cae2k.com

When Big Sister started elementary school, I looked forward to the day she would learn cursive writing. At her school, cursive writing was a sporadically taught subject, at best. Only some of the 2nd grade teachers taught it. Others waited until 3rd grade to begin instruction. As a result, Big Sister got some instruction in grade 2, and next to none in grade 3 - because the grade 3 teacher thought the grade 2 teacher had covered all of it. Pity the kids who didn't have a 2nd grade teacher who taught cursive writing.

cxlc.pbiufg.co.cc

When Fuzzy began 2nd grade, there was no talk of cursive writing. That, I was informed, was a 3rd grade activity. Sure enough, Fuzzy is now bringing home cursive writing drills. You must remember the worksheets with endless loops of lowercase "l" and so forth. Those currently grace the refrigerator door, a place of pride for all good schoolwork.

Still though, there are far too many older kids who say, "I can't read that," when instructions are written in cursive writing. I believe this is a function of too little practice with the skills of cursive handwriting. When you practice the formation of the letters, practice words, write sentences and - gasp - entire paragraphs using cursive writing, you learn how to read cursive writing.

Cursive writing is not taught as an actual subject in many elementary schools. I suppose there isn't time for it in the curriculum, because much more time is devoted to the "three R's." This is all well and good, devoting more time to reading, writing skills, and arithmetic - and it's also fine to devote time to learning technological skills. I just wish that kids, by upper elementary, would have a solid grasp of cursive writing and the reading of cursive writing.

handwriting hybrid

According to one article, a kid's handwriting legibility peaks by about 4th grade, and most adults write in a printed letter/cursive letter hybrid. That is, most adults mix the printed letters with the cursive ones. Think about it. When you sign your name to something, does that pen tip lift from the paper before every letter is formed? Are you using that cursive "S" to begin your name, or the printed "S"?

Whatever your signature style is, I'd bet you have some printed letters mixed in with your cursive ones - unless you're really old-school, and have stuck with the "everything cursive" mode of handwriting!

karencarpenter.com

johnhancock.com

I would be sad to see cursive writing disappear entirely. To me, there is something elegant about it - even in its hybrid form - and there is something to be said for an actual, handwritten, cursive-writing signature. Would you take seriously, on your bank loan or your divorce papers, a signature that was printed? Might as well just put an "X" and be done with it. Seems like a cursive-written signature is the official way to sign something important. How dull it would be to have an autograph book full of celebrity autographs, printed. Would anyone ever have said, "Put your John Hancock here," had Hancock simply printed his name?

richardsimonsports.com

civisions.com

What fun is an autographed baseball full of printed names? Autographed photos? Baseball cards? Probably, I'll have to appeal to the kids' sense of vanity when it comes to cursive writing. "When you're a famous athlete/author/actor," I'll say, "You'll need to know how to do a signature right." For a while, this will result in ridiculously scrawled names, done in "doctor style," so as to be illegible. But at some point, a seriously nice signature will appear. I hope!

Do you think cursive writing will go the way of the dinosaur? What are your thoughts and memories of cursive writing?