Sometimes Nothing

Question

2010-03-05T18:54:00.002-05:00

Can I attribute a five month absence to writer's block?

McCommunication

2009-10-15T17:21:00.003-04:00

My exact conversation with the guy working the drive-thru window last night at Mickey D's:

Him: Welcome to McDonald's. Would you like to try one of our Angus Third Pounder burgers?

Me: No, thank you. But could I please have two double cheeseburgers, two small french fries and a 10-piece order of chicken McNuggets? (It's important for me to mention that I was ordering for another person as well. I totally wouldn't eat TWO orders of fries.)

Him: Anything else?

Me: No, thank you.

Him: Do you know about our special deal on pumpkin items, like our pumpkin shake?

Me: Oh, no. Tell me about it.

Long pause.

Him: Well. It's....um....new....and it tastes like pumpkin?

Me: No.....like, what's the special? How much is it?

Him: Oh! You can get two pumpkin pies for a dollar.

Another long pause.

Me: Well, what about the shake?

Him: It's just a shake.

Me: Okay, give me the pies.

The moral of this story? I can be talked into almost anything if you confuse me enough.

In Good Company

2009-10-04T21:17:00.006-04:00

Meet my stapler. Meet my tape dispenser. And say hello to their primary function at my workstation over the past few weeks: propping up my almost-empty bottle of Bath and Body Works hand lotion. I'll admit it. I have a little problem. I'm a toothpaste tube roller, a hairspray bottle tilter and apparently, a body lotion up-ender. I've just got to get the last drop.

Earlier this week, I was sitting at my desk when out of nowhere, the site of this odd trio made me smile. I leaned back in my chair and thought: you probably did this too, right? Or at least something similar. Raising kids and working full-time. Cooking dinner every night, no questions asked. And learning to stretch a dollar as far as it would go.

Virginia.

Betty.

Grandma.

Mom.

Not cheap. Not frugal. Not thrifty. Responsible.

If it's broken, try to fix it before you replace it.

Expect to earn it, not to have it given to you.

Needs? Those come first. Wants? Well, save your pennies and pay cash.

Live within your means.

Use well what you already have.

And if the grocery store accidentally charges you .17 cents for a foil baking sheet that should cost $1.17, go back and get as many as you can without looking suspicious. Oh, Grandma.

So this is it. It's unofficially official. I've arrived and made it a trio. And I finally get it. It's not about spending or saving. It's not even necessarily about money. It's about appreciation, resourcefulness, discipline and setting a good example for those little eyes watching.

Yup, I got all of that out of an almost empty bottle of lotion propped up by a stapler and a tape dispenser. Whatever it takes. I'm in good company.

This One's For April (And October)

2009-09-28T21:53:00.005-04:00

April made a request and I need some feedback, so SN readers get another poll. Excited, aren't you? Well, you should be. It has to do with my most favorite time of the year: Halloween.

For as long as I can remember, I've loved the whole process of getting ready for Halloween. Decorating the house, putting together a costume, passing out candy. And of course, getting older and turning the Halloween corner. To haunted houses.

Haunted forests, prisons, cornfields, mazes, hydros (for real) and houses. I've done them all, and for the most part, I've loved them all. Every year, September finds me keeping my eyes and ears open for the latest, greatest haunts. This year was no different, and I was pumped to find a haunted house open this past Friday. I stood in line and took in the sights:

A dimly lit waiting area.

Scary and realistic creatures/monsters.

Fog.

Screams from inside the haunt.

And. . .

Teenagers. Lots and lots of teenagers. As I looked around at all of them I thought: "Impossible. I'm not this old." But to them, I might as well have been the creepy old lady taking the tickets. Except, of course, that the creepy old lady taking the tickets was actually a teenager in costume. Scary.

What does it all mean? Am I too old for haunted houses? Do I just not know when to retire? Am I the Brett Farve of Halloween?

My options are this: continue going and ignore the teenagers (and the stares), wait until I have a kid old enough to go but young enough to let me tag along or volunteer to work at a haunted house as the creepy old lady taking tickets. No costume required.

I'm interested to see what you think. Take my poll to the right and be honest. . .because. . .the shadow knows. . .

P.S. The poll is open until October 31, 2009 and I've allowed for multiple answers. Mostly because of option #4.

Don't You Just Hate It...

2009-09-17T18:10:00.002-04:00

...when the wrong number calls your phone at 6 in the morning? Don't you also hate it when, as a result, you iron and lint-brush a pair of pants before realizing they're inside out?

Extra hour and half of sleep, I missed you too.

May Your Song Always Be Sung

2009-09-03T21:00:00.005-04:00

Don't hate on me, but I've never been a huge Bob Dylan fan. So I was surprised when I found out that the lyrics from a Pepsi commercial featuring Will.I.Am come from an old Dylan song. Check out the longer version here (oh, and keep an eye out for the guy in the blue speedo. He's quite the dancer and certainly the star of the show. It's totally a viewing bonus.):

I love it when stuff like this happens because now I'll definitely do some Dylan research and see what else I've been missing. As for the lyrics below, I'm knocked out by the beauty of their simplicity. Makes me think of my four sweet nephews:

May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

May you grow up to be righteous,
May you grow up to be true,
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you.
May you always be courageous,
Stand upright and be strong,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

August: The Most Pathetic Month Of All

2009-08-28T21:37:00.006-04:00

Well, at least for me. 1 post? Pathetic! I have to admit though, the past month has been packed with activities, some fun, some sad, but nothing blog-worthy. So I'm going to finish out the rest of the month with a post a day. This is mostly a challenge to myself to see if I can come up with something significant for four consecutive days. After all, I caught myself taking pictures of a praying mantis earlier today. With my new iPhone. So consider this blog therapy.

Kids. I've Got To Get Me One.

2009-08-05T22:19:00.004-04:00

Overheard in the Home department at Elder-Beerman:

Young Boy, about 8: "It was really cool just like I knew it would be. Cole said it looked exactly like that at the Swisstonian."

Amused Mother: "I think you mean the Smithsonian."

Pause.

Young Boy: "Oh. Well, I call it the Swisstonian. So anyway..."

Huh. The Swisstonian. I like it! Even if all they display is historical cheese.

My Absence. . .

2009-07-21T23:04:00.003-04:00

. . .can be explained with one word and one picture.

The word? Vacation.

The picture? Low country boil:

Mmmmm, three of my favorite foods: seafood, sausage and starch! I just HAD to be a tourist and take a picture. The place had baby alligators in a lagoon out front though, so I'm pretty sure they welcome tourists and their pictures.

(As a side note, thanks for the surprise birthday trip, P! I expected 30 to be a tough one, but Savannah, plenty of seafood, the beach and spending time with you made it completely enjoyable.)

It's Not Delivery...It's Dejection

2009-07-06T22:46:00.004-04:00

I made it to the last aisle. Frozen foods, to be exact. I had been focused and organized, flying through my list and poised to make it out of the store in record time. But there she stood in front of the frozen pizzas, reading off the names of each one into her cell phone:

Roadblock: "Well, let's see, there's pepperoni, sausage, plain cheese, meat lover's, pepperoni and sausage, half pepperoni-half cheese, veggie...hmmm, but you wouldn't like that. Okay, how about mushroom, four cheese, supreme...Well? Do any of those sound good?"

Long pause.

Roadblock: "Hello? Hello? Are you even listening to me?"

I sensed she was talking to her husband. Normally, I would have skipped ahead of her to the off-brand section, but dammit, I had a coupon.

Roadblock: "How does meat lover's sound? What's that? You can't hear me? MEAT LOVER'S. Does that sound good to you? Oh, good. Well, let me just get it out and make sure there aren't any onions on it."

She then proceeded to read the entire list of ingredients out loud into the phone. At one point she even glanced over at me, but didn't give an inch. She was hellbent on making the perfect pizza selection.

Roadblock: "So it doesn't sound like there are any onions, right? We'll go with it then."

And she started moving her cart. But...

Roadblock: "Well, maybe I'll get another one for this weekend. We can have a nice night in. I can get a sausage or pepperoni, or whatever you like. Maybe another meat lover's. Just tell me what you would prefer. Or I could get a small pizza with some garlic bread. Would you like that? Hello?"

I have to admit, despite my shock and awe, I kind of felt bad for her.

Roadblock: "Well, I thought you'd like to choose. I'll just pick something out and if you don't like it, well, you're going to have to live with it."

By this point, I had actually rested my cart against a display case and was casually leaning against it. Openly listening to her end of the conversation. Desperately wanting to make a selection for her.

Roadblock: "What do you mean you don't care? Why don't you care? Pizza is your favorite!"

Are you there God? It's me, Maureen. I need a miracle in aisle 15.

Roadblock: "Okay, I'm walking away. Guess you didn't want another one that much."

As I finally grabbed the pepperoni and cheese I'd been staring down (so close, yet so far away), I thought about the pizza dejection I'd just witnessed. Roadblock went from high to low pretty quickly, and all because her husband was probably focused on waxing the car or watching the ball game. I mean, how could she expect him to get that excited about a frozen pizza? And then throw it back in his face when he didn't?

And what of me? Innocent bystander. Pizza dejection witness. Well, I learned a few things. Like, for example, while it's sweet to try to keep love in the air by pleasing your partner, it shouldn't be at the expense of your own mental health. I mean, if he's not happy with the meat lover's, that means more for you! Am I right? Ladies?

In the end, the wait was worth it. A delicious pizza and material for a blog post. That's almost better than double coupon days or free sample Fridays.

The Runs

2009-06-28T10:18:00.002-04:00

It pains me to have my first post in almost three weeks be titled 'The Runs.' But I can't help it that I:

1. Try to find the silver lining in almost all less than desirable situations, and

2. Am a horrible housewife, a fact previously documented on this blog.

Earlier this week, I came home after work to find our sweet little black lab, Bailey, cowering and shaking almost uncontrollably as I opened the front door. She'd done something bad and she knew it. I knew it too a few steps into the house.

The Wendy's bag I was holding no longer desirable (the new boneless wings combo with a Sprite), I set everything down in order to fully comfort Bailey. Yes, it is sweet that I chose the health and well-being of my animal over five minutes of bliss on my front porch eating the bold buffalo spiciness I smelled the entire way home. But Bailey also has bladder control issues when she's extremely nervous or excited, and I didn't want to clean up two messes.

With Bailey finally calmed down and settled on her bed, I proceeded to the kitchen to assess the damage. Two main points of deposit, runny, but no carpeting or rugs involved. Not as horrible as I was expecting.

I dug out the pet cleaner, Lysol, several plastic grocery bags and as many paper towels as I could grab, and got to work. As I was down on the floor cleaning, a yellow Wendy's napkin stuffed up my nose for gag protection, I thought "Hey, at least part of the kitchen floor will get its first good scrub in about three months." And after a flash of guilt, I briefly considered scrubbing the rest. But I had those wings waiting...come on, you would have done the same thing.

Buzz Lightyear Is Killing Me

2009-06-09T23:56:00.006-04:00

I wasn't prepared. Nope, it was just like any other normal day. I was driving along, perhaps humming a little tune to myself. Probably speeding or cursing the car in front of me. And all of a sudden, something caught my attention. I stopped and listened. This is what I heard:

Y'all, another state's tourism ad campaign made me cry. Not like sobbing or anything, but I had to blink back the tears. And you know what? The first chance I got, I went to puremichigan.org. Since then, I've become a little obsessed.

Through some quick research, I discovered that Tim Allen is the voice over talent, an agency called McCann Erickson created the campaign, the music is from the movie Cider House Rules and there are several radio and TV spots. I also found that the Pure Michigan website experienced an increase in traffic by almost 50%. This campaign is just that good. Phenomenally well-written and unlike any other tourism ads I've seen. Perhaps a bit overly sentimental at times, but I'll take that over flashy or tough any day of the week.

So what is it that makes these commercials successful? For me, it's that they remind me of my childhood and appeal to what I think is important in life--slowing down and enjoying it. What do you think? Below are a few of my other favorites:

I’m With The Scottish

2009-06-04T17:04:00.001-04:00

I’m not normally superstitious (I’m just a little stitious – name that quote), but this morning I experienced the mother of all superstitions: the dreaded black cat. As I opened my front door to leave for work, an all-black cat bounded across my front porch, through the bushes and down my driveway out of sight. Yup, right across my path.

For a second, I actually froze and wondered what to do next. I imagined all sorts of trouble, from a car accident on the highway to one of the ventilation tubes above my cube at work falling and flattening me. Or something less dramatic but equally painful, like a black widow spider bite or someone accidentally serving me blow fish for lunch. But since calling in superstitious does not exist on our time sheet at work, I was forced the leave the house. (Although really, I understand that something catastrophic could have easily happened at home. I would just prefer to spend my last moments watching Family Feud repeats.)

Backing out of the driveway, I was surprised to see the cat still hanging around on our lawn. He had a friend with him; a big yellow thing lounging on the sewer plate looking relaxed and overly fed. In an instant I knew he was the ringleader, the Al Capone of the group. I stopped the car for a second to stare them down. I wanted to send a tough “don’t mess with my flowerbeds while I’m at work” message. But they eyeballed me right back, probably waiting for my car to burst into flames so they could exchange a feline high-five.

And then I noticed something. The black cat was not a cat at all. Nope, too small. It was just a sweet little kitten. So, I ask, will the curse still befall me? Can there really be a wrath of the black kitten? Will my bad luck be someone snuggling and purring me to death?

Interestingly, I did my superstition homework and found that according to Scottish folklore, a strange black cat on your porch brings prosperity. Hmm. I’ll keep my fingers crossed, but really, I think the only way this thing ends is with more neighborhood cats. Excuse me, kittens.

Welcome Back Lees Summit, Missouri!

2009-06-02T21:12:00.004-04:00

I don't even know who you are, but I've missed you. Glad to see your time and date stamp information back in the live feed box. I am, by the way, being completely serious. This little blog (okay, me) hasn't been performing at a top notch level lately and I fear I've been losing readers. I have a handful of excuses, none of which are exciting, glamorous or acceptable. Let's just say my scattered brain has been elsewhere. So I'm back in the game, with an emphasis on effort. But......

Since this post isn't really about anything substantial and I've been inundating you with video posts lately, how about some Conan bloopers from hulu.com (if you haven't checked out hulu yet, I highly recommend it):

Everyone Thinks It's Disgusting

2009-05-28T19:16:00.003-04:00

Cracks me up every time. Specifically the girl with the white sunglasses. Good advertising campaign:

Thank You

2009-05-25T11:51:00.004-04:00

In Flanders Fields
John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

And today, decades later and in a different war, what more can we do to honor our troops? I think Bert has the answer--say thank you:

We Are Not Relations, Sir

2009-05-15T16:57:00.002-04:00

See the link below. I have two comments:

1. Could she be the one who got away?
2. Only in small town America.

Okay, I really have three comments:

3. Wow, she's busty.

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,520257,00.html

Oh. And name the movie that produced the title of the post. I'll even give you a hint--it's one of P's favorite movies of all time. Don't Google it!

Out There All Alone

2009-05-03T10:54:00.006-04:00

It's a popular dinner party question: if you could transport yourself to any event in history, what would it be? The Last Supper, the signing of the Declaration of Independence and the Beatles' first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show are all popular answers. And tempting, too. But none of those options involve a horse upsetting the entire field at the Belmont Stakes by 31 lengths while claiming the Triple Crown title in record time. If I could go, that's where you'd find me.

I've become increasingly fascinated with the sport of horse racing and all that goes with it. The breeding, the training, and the stories. Along the way, it's been amazing to see that these horses are athletes as well as competitors. And some of them, like a modern day LeBron James or Michael Phelps, are built for greatness. Enter Secretariat and his bid for the 1973 Triple Crown title.

For those of you unfamiliar, the Triple Crown is so difficult because the length of all three races vary and most horses are bred for different distances. So while a horse might shine at the Kentucky Derby, the longer Belmont Stakes will test its endurance. Knowing that, it's amazing when any horse wins the Triple Crown. But Secretariat set still-standing track records at two out of the three races, and won each leg in jaw-dropping fashion:

The Kentucky Derby: Not only did he win the Derby by 2 1/2 lengths, he ran each quarter-mile segment faster than the one before it. His quarter-mile times were:

1. 25 1/5
2. 24
3. 23 4/5
4. 23 2/5
5. 23

This means he was still accelerating as of the final quarter-mile of the race. Amazing.

The Preakness Stakes: Secretariat again won by 2 1/2 lengths, but this time he did it coming from worst to first. Just when it seemed like he was down and out, he pulled to the outside and blew past the field.

The Belmont Stakes: As I mentioned above, he won by 31 lengths. That just doesn't happen. He ran the fastest 1 1/2 miles on dirt in history, 2:24 flat, which broke the stakes record by more than 2 seconds. This record still stands, and in fact, no other horse has ever broken 2:25 for 1 1/2 miles on dirt. And Secretariat ran that time without another horse pushing him. Imagine if he would have had some competition. If you've never seen it, check it out:

Now that I've let a little of my inner dork shine through, here are a few more interesting facts:

5,617 winning parimutuel tickets at the Belmost Stakes on Secretariat were never redeemed. They were presumably kept as souvenirs (they only paid $2.10 on a $2 bet).
Secretariat placed 35th on ESPN's list of 100 Greatest Athletes of the 20th Century.
A necropsy (post-mortem exam) showed that his heart weighed 22 pounds, the largest ever recorded for a racehorse.

That last one really gets me. Like I said, some things are built for greatness. And eventually everything clicks and produces a unforgettable moment in time.

So yup, that's my choice. Somebody get Doc Brown on the horn and tell him to grab the keys to the DeLorean.

What Would You Attempt To Do If You Knew You Could Not Fail?

2009-04-28T16:52:00.005-04:00

It's a fair question.

My answer? Launch a freelance writing career. Yup, that would be ideal. The ability to write on any subject, where I want (my front porch) and when I want (night owl). What stops me? The fear of failure, I suppose. Isn't that a shame?

How about you? What's your answer and what's stopping you?

A Conversation With Betts

2009-04-23T20:16:00.004-04:00

I guess I should have taken a few minutes to explain my April 13 "Rainy Day" post. A few days ago, I had this conversation with my mother over the phone:

Betts: "By the way, what's the deal with your latest blog entry?"

Me: "What do you mean 'what's the deal' with it?"

Betts: "Well, I didn't watch it all the way through, but does it get funny?"

Me: "No, it doesn't get funny! It's not supposed to be funny. It's just a song I like with a cool video."

Betts: "Oh. I thought it was going to be funny."

Me: "I thought the headline made sense and was pretty clear. It's upbeat, so it's good for my rainy day mood."

Betts: "Yeah. Well, post something funny."

Does this count, Betts? Call me!

Things That Go Bump In The Night

2009-04-19T11:36:00.005-04:00

It started a few weeks ago on a Saturday night. P and I had been out playing cards and arrived back home late, about 1:30 a.m. We went through the motions of letting the dog out, getting prepared for bed and locking up. Soon we were tucked in under the covers, ready for sleep. Just as I was about to doze off, I heard the light rumbling of an engine outside. It kept getting closer, starting and stopping. Soon it was outside of our house, just idling. I nudged P.

"Hey," I said. "Do you hear that?"

"What?" he asked sleepily.

"There's a car outside just sitting there."

"So?"

"Well, what if they're casing the joint?"

He laughed. "I'm sure it's nothing."

The car started moving, and eventually faded away. A few minutes later though it was back, creeping along the street behind us. I jumped out of bed and pulled back the curtain. It was just enough time to see a white van moving slowly down the street with the headlights turned off.

"The lights are off!" I said, jumping back into bed. "You've got to do something!"

P said nothing, sighed and got out of bed. I, of course, stayed in bed with my cell phone flipped open, ready for the "Call 911!" command.

P went to the sliding glass doors and watched the van. "They're doing something, but I can't tell what it is. I'd say dumpster diving, but it's the wrong day."

"Well, don't you think we should do something? Call someone?" I asked.

"No. If they come back through again, I'll call the sheriff."

With that, we went to bed. But the very next Saturday, the van was back. Same time, same creepiness. I was amped.

"I bet they're taking notes, trying to see who works 3rd shift, who might be on vacation, who lives alone."

P wasn't so sure. Even though I was practically begging him to call the cops, he resisted. "What are we going to tell them? There's a weird van driving around?"

"Exactly!" I said. "We're concerned citizens!"

He shook his head no and again told me that if they came around again, he'd call the sheriff.

As you can probably guess, I'm on high-alert at all times. I have hiding places around the house already picked out, and have an escape route (inside and outside) mapped out pending a burglary. I'm suspicious of almost all strangers. Is this guy really a vacuum cleaner salesman or is he just here to see if we have nice stuff? (So far, we've either been visited by legitimate salespeople or our stuff isn't that nice.)

I'm even suspicious of kids selling stuff door-to-door. A few weeks ago, we had a young kid, probably 11 or 12, knock on our door to sell us the Sunday newspaper. Something about selling enough subscriptions to win a day trip to Cedar Point. He'd told us he'd never been there before. Or Kings Island or any other amusement park, for that matter. I might not be a fan, but that broke my heart a little, so I wrote out a check even though he didn't have an official badge or anything. Felt pretty good about myself, too.

But the following Sunday? No paper. I checked my online banking account everyday, waiting for the check to clear. I was sure he was part of some dirty scam operated by shady adults. Finally, this past Thursday, it cleared for the correct amount. I was relieved, but still wondering if I would actually get a Sunday paper.

I'm telling you, scam artists are everywhere. Just waiting for you to let your guard down. But not me, I'm ready. Like last night, for example. Another Saturday night, except this night, I was waiting. And I was not disappointed.

The van was back.

Same time, starting and stopping all the way down the street until it came to a rest just outside our house. We were still; everything was quiet except for the hum of the engine. And then, a loud SMACK!

The sound? The Sunday paper, of course.

Perfect For My Rainy Day Mood

2009-04-13T18:45:00.004-04:00

Mr. Howie Long, I Apologize

2009-04-03T20:32:00.002-04:00

You win. Everybody loves your flat top. So continue to rock it with confidence.

Another win? According to my super-scientific poll, nobody confuses you with Howie Mandel.

I'm Curious: Should Howie Long Continue Rocking The Flat Top? VOTE!

2009-03-26T22:02:00.009-04:00

In case you haven't noticed, another round of Chevy Truck commercials featuring Howie Long just hit the airwaves. In one of the commercials, Howie pokes fun at another driver who used a "man-step" to climb down from his Ford truck. The driver gets all sheepish and embarrassed that NFL legend Howie Long called him out. Howie, the hell? Should you really be making fun of others when you've been sporting the same haircut for the last twenty years? (Which, I might add, is the same haircut my brother and all his friends had in junior high. The timeline for that? Roughly twenty years ago.)

Howie, you're a handsome man. I'm fairly confident you could pull off almost any new look. Caesar cut? Check. Side-part comb over? Absolutely. The Troy Polamalu? Why not? You might even try one of those "man-steps" while you're at it. With all those years in the NFL, you're probably going to need it.

SN readers, what do you think? Take my poll to the right!

Aunt Marvine

2009-03-16T00:01:00.003-04:00

Ever wonder what's in a nickname? I do, and frankly, it fascinates me. My own personal nickname is Mo, which is short for Maureen, and for as long as I can remember that's what people have called me. My family, teachers, coaches, even my high school principal. When I left for college, the nickname stuck even though none of my high school classmates went to the same school. And finally, at almost 30, most of my coworkers call me Mo.

I'm cool with it. I've grown into it and I like it. Occasionally though, I thought it was a bit unusual and it made me self-conscious. However, this was all long before I met my husband, who is apparently surrounded by people who consider nicknaming a sport. Chew on this list:

Buzz
Sparky
Punk
Stumpy
Coondog
Skeeter
Schoolboy
Fuzzy
Popper
Snuffy
Bartley
Hambone
T-bone
Railroad (you know who you are)
Roscoe
Double D
Buck
Fatty
Tree
Big Cheese
Peg Leg

Now I've been informed by P that some of these are CB handles from way back that stuck. But most of them are nicknames that others simply made up. For example, "Fatty" is a nickname that was given by friends and is used regularly in lieu of his real name. I think they even shorten it to just "Fats" from time to time, but I would need Railroad to confirm this.

Walking into P's community of friends and family, I was known as only Maureen. It didn't take long though and I was given a new nickname. It all started when an uncle of P's mistakenly thought my name was Marvine. It was one of those situations where I had let it go too many times to turn around and correct him. So I just let him call me Marvine and hoped he would hear someone else call me by my real name. Enter another one of P's uncles, who was visiting from Florida. He heard the first uncle, his brother, call me Marvine and made a big show of how "her name is MOOORRREEEENNN, not Marvine." I was mortified and instantly became Marvine to a small circle of P's family in on the mixup. P's younger brother shortened it and now just calls me Marv.

So today while grocery shopping, I found myself stuck behind two women with two carts taking up a large section of the aisle. It was clear that the younger woman was helping the older lady with her shopping:

"How about some chicken noodle soup? You like that."

"Let's wait on the cocoa powder. We're going up to Amish country next week and you can get it cheaper there."

"You normally don't like pickles."

"The flour is right down this aisle, AUNT MARVINE."

Aunt Marvine! It's a real name! I laughed out loud and then quickly pretended that one of the coupons in my hand was hilarious. Odd as it sounds, it was somewhat comforting. It means that I have people in my life who would have laughed along with me had they been there. People I wouldn't know if I didn't marry P. And perhaps in my old age, I'll be able to count on one of these people to take me to the grocery store and remind me that I like chicken noodle soup.

If You've Already Seen This, Watch It Again--Part Two

2009-03-10T23:14:00.002-04:00

I know this has been making its way around for quite awhile, but it's so inspiring I had to post it for those of you who haven't seen it yet. Truly awesome. It's nice to have a reminder that one of the most important things in this life is to love and be loved. Read the story and watch the video at the end. Break out the tissues. You'll need 'em:

Strongest Dad in the World [From Sports Illustrated, By Rick Reilly]

I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay for their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots. But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck.

Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in marathons. Eight times he's not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars--all in the same day. Dick's also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. on a bike. Makes taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?

And what has Rick done for his father? Not much--except save his life.

This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when Rick was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs.

"He'll be a vegetable the rest of his life;'' Dick says doctors told him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. "Put him in an institution.''

But the Hoyts weren't buying it. They noticed the way Rick's eyes followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate. "No way,'' Dick says he was told. "There's nothing going on in his brain.''

"Tell him a joke,'' Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain.

Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? "Go Bruins!'' And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, "Dad, I want to do that.''

Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described "porker'' who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he tried. "Then it was me who was handicapped,'' Dick says. "I was sore for two weeks.''

That day changed Rick's life. "Dad,'' he typed, "when we were running, it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!''

And that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon.

"No way,'' Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't quite a single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway, then they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following year.

Then somebody said, "Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?''

How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick tried.

Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't you think?

Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your own? "No way,'' he says. Dick does it purely for "the awesome feeling'' he gets seeing Rick with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.

This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best time? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992--only 35 minutes off the world record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time.

"No question about it,'' Rick types. "My dad is the Father of the Century.''

And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his arteries was 95% clogged. "If you hadn't been in such great shape,'' one doctor told him, "you probably would've died 15 years ago.''

So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's life.

Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father's Day.

That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy.

"The thing I'd most like,'' Rick types, "is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once.''

Monessen, PA

2009-03-02T21:20:00.002-05:00

Driving home from a weekend trip yesterday, I noticed an exit sign for Monessen, PA. As we got closer, the exit looked familiar. And it hit me. So I hit P. I grabbed his arm and said (probably verbatim):

"Holy crap! Monessen, PA!"

As he often does when he doesn't understand what I'm talking about, P shook his head back and forth with his mouth turned down, eyebrows raised and shoulders shrugged.

"You know. Monessen, PA. Where I got my first job offer out of school."

"Oh," he said, completely uninterested.

Maybe it's because I'm a woman, maybe it's because I'm me. But stuff like this completely fascinates me. I tried to explain.

"If I would have taken that job, our lives would be completely different!"

"Maybe," he said.

"What do you mean 'maybe'? You weren't out of school yet, so you probably would have followed me out here and gotten a job. Our lives would have started here instead of in Toledo and Detroit. We would be in a completely different place right now. I certainly wouldn't be at my job and you wouldn't be in yours. We'd have different jobs, different co-workers, different friends, different hobbies, different everything!"

"But we'd still be together, so it wouldn't be that different," he said.

I guess we just see things differently. Me, I marvel at how one decision could have completely changed my/our life path. I think about the people I work with everyday who I never would have met. What about my house, my neighborhood, the relationships we've built with the friends and family who now live so close to us? And how would life in Monessen, PA have treated us? Would we still be the "us" that we are now?

It's just crazy, I tell you. Almost too much to think about. But I will say this. Driving past the Monessen exit, I looked out at the town and thought: it would have been tough here starting out, just the two of us. I know we would have made it though. Maybe that's what P was trying to explain in his one-sentence way. That he'll love me and be my husband wherever our life path takes us.

Thanks for the reminder, Monessen, PA.

Unfortunately, Efficiency Doesn't Consider My House a Home

2009-02-18T20:00:00.004-05:00

I imagine I'm not alone. It's impossible, I think. Surely someone else out there uses an old Macy's shopping bag as a holding facility for mateless socks. Anybody? No? Okay, then maybe not a Macy's bag, but any type of container, bag or box specifically intended for temporary sock storage. So those of you who have a similar system in place would probably agree that it's convenient, handy and practical. Inventive, inspired, genius. . .and rapidly filling up?

Maybe I was too smug. Too proud of my little creation, my Macy's bag of misfit socks. Maybe I underestimated the enemy, my adversary, my laundry antagonist. Producer of pit stain t-shirts-a-plenty. That's right. My husband.

Last week while doing laundry I noticed something that caused me to release an audible gasp. Are you ready for it? Brace yourselves, it's quite shocking. A matching pair of socks casually hanging out atop my Macy's bag creation. A true marital crime scene. Proof that my darling husband worked the system by throwing all our just-washed socks straight into the bag in lieu of matching and folding them. In one load of laundry, he turned my efficient "find a mate" program into a conniving "wife'll do it" system. Outraged, I stomped into the next room, bag in hand, and asked "Have you been dumping all the socks into this bag without even sorting them first to look for mates?"

Because my husband absolutely cannot lie, he tried to pull the old "What was that? I didn't quite hear you" routine. Let me tell you, I'm not a marriage veteran yet but I've been down this road before. I stood my ground and didn't say a word.

I raised an eyebrow.

He cracked. Produced a little smile. I wanted to yell at him, make him understand how his little stunt killed any efficiency I had going in the laundry department. But what can I say? I'm a sucker for his smile.

I guess things like this come with the territory, these little marriage games. Keeps it exciting, I suppose. I just hope he feels the same way when he finally realizes several of his aforementioned pit stained t-shirts have recently joined my brand new Laundry Witness Protection Program. Oh, it's nothing serious. Just a convenient, handy and practical system I put in place to make laundry time more efficient.

Is 'Unscientific' A Word?

2009-02-07T11:06:00.002-05:00

Because that's the word I would use to describe my latest poll. Nonetheless, SN readers think Feed Jake is the Worst Country Song in Recent Memory. Could it be because it was the first choice? Most amusing? Or just because it's that strange? I guess we'll never know. Also, with 7 votes, it hardly matters.

For the record, I voted for I'll Walk. What can I say? I convinced myself writing the comments. I can't believe it didn't get more votes.

Guess What I Just Found In My Fridge?

2009-02-01T16:27:00.002-05:00

Leftover green bean casserole from Christmas dinner. Yup, it was still sitting there in the same blue glass-covered dish I served it in. What's even worse is that as I type this, its home is still my fridge. I plan to deal with it after I cook and eat dinner tonight (or until I con P into a special cleaning project). NOT a pretty sight!

Housewife of the year right here.

Feed Jake (He's Been A Good Dog)

2009-01-28T14:26:00.008-05:00

When I first met P, I was not what you would call a country music fan. Sure I had albums by Garth Brooks and the Dixie Chicks, but any true country fan will tell you that these mainstream artists don't count. P was the real deal driving around in a white pickup truck and listening to some guy named George Strait. The truck only had an AM radio, so our choices were Radio Disney or his collection of CDs. I got to know George and friends real well. Over time, I started to like it and expanded my personal collection to include a bit more country.

However, since becoming a fan, I've come across some of the goofiest songs I've ever heard. In addition to being hilarious, these songs confirm my belief that I could be a country music songwriter if I wanted to be. I just currently choose not to be. Anyhow, included below are my votes for Worst Country Music Song In Recent Memory. I'm setting up a poll to the right, so for the love of Waylon Jennings, please vote! And the nominees are:

1. Feed Jake - by Pirates of the Mississippi

I'm standing at the crossroads in life, and I don't know where to go. You know you've got my heart babe, but my music's got my soul. Let me play it one more time, I'll tell the truth and make it rhyme, and hope they understand me.

Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I die before I wake, feed Jake, he's been a good dog. My best friend right through it all, if I die before I wake, Feed Jake.

Now Broadway's like a sewer, bums and hookers everywhere. Whino's passed out on the side walk, doesn't anybody care. Some say he's worthless, just let him be. But I for one would have to disagree. And so would their mama.

Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I die before I wake, feed Jake, he's been a good dog. My best friend right through it all, if I die before I wake,Feed Jake.

If you get an ear pierced, some will call you gay. But if you drive a pick-up, they'll say 'No, he must be straight.' What we are and what we ain't, what we can and what we can't, does it really matter?

Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I die before I wake, feed Jake, he's been a good dog. My best friend right through it all, if I die before I wake, feed Jake.

SN Comments: Let me just pause here to reiterate that these are real songs performed by serious artists. I did not make anything up or alter the lyrics in any way. So yes, The Pirates of the Mississippi managed to write a song that simultaneously tackles big issues like hookers, homosexuality and feeding a dog. Please don't laugh when I tell you that this was their highest-charting hit. Or laugh. What do I care?

2. I'll Walk - by Bucky Covington
We were 18, it was prom night. We had our first big fight. She said "Pull this car over." I did and then I told her, "I don't know what you are crying for." I grabbed her hand, as she reached for the door.

She said, I'll walk. Let go of my hand. Right now I'm hurt, and you don't understand. So just be quiet. And later we will talk. Just leave, don't worry. I'll walk.

It was a dark night, a black dress. Driver never saw her, around the bend. I never will forget the call, or driving to the hospital when they told me her legs still wouldn't move. I cried, when I walked into her room.

She said, I'll walk. Please come and hold my hand. Right now I'm hurt, and I don't understand. Let's just be quiet, and later we can talk. Please stay, don't worry. I'll walk.

I held her hand through everything. The weeks and months of therapy. And I held her hand and asked her, to be my bride. She's dreamed from a little girl, to have her daddy bring her down the aisle. So from her wheelchair, she looks up to him and smiles.

And says, I'll walk. Please hold my hand. I know that this will hurt, I know you understand. Please daddy don't cry. This is already hard. Let's go, don't worry. I'll walk.

SN Comments: Okay, I know this song is sad and it pulls at the heartstrings so I probably shouldn't make fun of it. But come on. It's so bad! Country music is notorious for doing the old "double-meaning" chorus. But I'll Walk takes it to new heights. She's going to walk home after the fight, but she's also going to walk after the car accident that paralyzed her. And finally, she's going to walk down the aisle at her wedding. Yes, the wedding where she is marrying the jackass who LET HER GET OUT OF THE CAR SO SHE COULD WALK HOME FROM PRESUMABLY THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE ON PROM NIGHT! This song wants me to believe that a father is going to let his 18 year-old daughter marry the guy who pretty much caused her paralysis? Impossible! I mean, can you imagine:

"Well, Mom and Dad, prom was great but on the way home Bucky and I got into a huge fight. I told him to pull over so I could walk home. And you know what? He did. So I stood there alone for awhile thinking he might come back. Finally, I started to walk and just as I was rounding a bend, I saw a car speeding straight toward me. It was then that I realized black was a poor color choice for my dress."

3. Honky Tonk Badonkadonk - by Trace Adkins
Turn it up some. Alright boys, this is her favorite song. You know that right? So, if we play it good and loud she might get up and dance again. Ooh, she put her beer down. Here she comes, here she comes. Left left left right left. Whoo!

Husslers shootin' eightball, throwin' darts at the wall. Feelin' damn near 10 ft. tall. Here she comes, Lord help us all. Ol' T.W.'s girlfriend done slapped him outta his chair. Poor ole boy, it ain't his fault.

It's so hard not to stare at that honky tonk badonkadonk. Keepin' perfect rhythm, make ya wanna swing along. Got it goin' on like Donkey Kong. And whoo-wee shut my mouth, slap your grandma. There outta be a law get the Sheriff on the phone. Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on.

That honky tonk badonkadonk (aww son). Now Honey, you can't blame her for what her mama gave her. It ain't right to hate her for workin' that money-maker. Band shuts down at two, but we're hangin' out till three. We hate to see her go, but love to watch her leave.

With that honky tonk badonkadonk. Keepin' perfect rhythm, make ya wanna swing along. Got it goin' on like Donkey Kong. And whoo-wee shut my mouth, slap your grandma. There outta be a law get the Sheriff on the phone. Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on. With that honky tonk badonkadonk.

(Ooh, that's what I'm talkin' bout right there, honey) We don't care bout the drinkin'. Barely listen to the band. Our hands, they start a shakin' when she gets the urge to dance. Drivin' everybody crazy. You think you fell in love. Boys, you better keep your distance. You can look but you can't touch.

That honky tonk badonkadonk. Keepin' perfect rhythm, make ya wanna swing along. Got it goin' on like Donkey Kong. And whoo-wee shut my mouth, slap your grandma. There outta be a law get the Sheriff on the phone. Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on. With that honky tonk badonkadonk.

That's it, right there boys, that's why we do what we do. It ain't for the money, it ain't for the glory, it ain't for the free whiskey. It's for the badonkadonk.

SN Comments: I almost don't even know where to start with this one. It's offensive on so many levels. I mean, it's obviously offensive to women, but I'm even more offended as a human being with ears. And a brain. "Shut my mouth, slap your grandma." This is songwriting? Trace Adkins made MONEY off of this song. People LOVE this song. My brother, who hates country music, even likes this song (although I think he might just like the video). Shocking but true. I guess maybe I should be offended that I didn't think of it first. I'd have money, fame, free whiskey! Yes! Yes! But wait...thinking it over here....Nope! Still hate it!

If you have a song you'd like to nominate, please do so in the Comments section. Don't forget to vote!

If You've Already Seen This, Watch It Again

2009-01-23T23:24:00.002-05:00

I cry like a baby every time I see this. From the student section going nuts to the coach saying he sat on the bench and cried while it was happening, I just can't keep it together.

10 Things I Love...

2009-01-20T23:25:00.007-05:00

...About Our Tuesday Night Bar Bowling League:

10. The fact that tonight, on our fourth week, I realized for the first time that it was called the Bar League. I pretty much thought it was just a regular old league. Noticing the other names on the results board like Wednesday Night Men's Competitive League and Thursday Night Kings and Queens League, I quickly came to the conclusion that we're the hooligans. So be it.

9. John's t-shirts. You don't know John. Heck, I barely know John, but I love his t-shirts. Each week, he treats us to something different. Tonight it was Yo Gabba Gabba. Last week it was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. What will next week bring? Personally, I can't wait.

8. That if P bowls a turkey (three strikes in a row), we get to see his turkey strut. It's magnificent.

7. The music. Where else can you hear the Zac Brown Band's "Chicken Fried" followed by T.I.'s "Whatever You Like"? And then hear both of them again within an hour.

6. My new-to-me pink bowling ball. I finally graduated to a 10-pounder and celebrated by having my initials engraved above the finger holes. Don't think I'm not legit!

5. Watching Ryan get better each week!

4. The team names. We're the Four Acres, which was the name of an old bar that caught fire and was destroyed in the town where P grew up. Other names include The Hillbillies, The Pour House and the Splitlickers. Just reinforcing our hooligan reputation.

3. The free practice. Sometimes the owner lets us stay late and bowl for free. We either amuse him, he likes us or he drinks too much on Tuesday nights. It's a toss-up.

2. The tight, tight blue jeans. I'm not talking about the ladies either. I'm fascinated by how some of these men manage to bowl. Yikes! With a little bit of ouch.

1. That tonight P announced "I don't know why, but at the bowling alley, the beer flows like wine." And he didn't even realize he pulled a Lloyd Christmas on us.

Who Wears Cloth Flats and No Socks With 5 Inches of Snow in the Forecast?

2009-01-14T17:44:00.004-05:00

Me, that's who. Brrrrrrr.

Mom, I'm expecting your call. I will have no explanation for you.

SN Exclusive: My Dinner-for-One Recipe

2009-01-13T22:34:00.006-05:00

Ever come home after a long day of work only to find an empty house? In this scenario, are you also starving because you only ate a stupid salad for lunch? If you answered yes, then I have a recipe for you. Grab a pencil and get ready to write this down. This recipe is sure to rock your world. Ready? Okay, here is what you'll need:

Tortillas
Shredded Cheese, preferably a Mexican blend but in a pinch, anything will do.
Sour Cream
Salsa

Sprinkle cheese on tortilla and heat for 45 seconds in microwave. Add as much sour cream as you can handle and then pour salsa where space will allow. Roll up tortilla, grab a drink and move to your couch. Enjoy some alone time watching tv, reading a book or surfing the web. If you're a balla like me, you'll probably eat three or four before you consider how bad this meal actually is for you. And then you'll grab one more because if you think about it, this is a vegetarian dish. Those are all healthy, right?

What's that you say? You don't always have tortillas in the house and are looking for a substitute? No problem! Simply replace the tortillas with a bowl, the shredded cheese with Lucky Charms and the sour cream with milk. A nice bowl of cereal is the perfect dinner-for-one and it doesn't even require the microwave.

Have any dinner-for-one recipes of your own? Share them in the comments. Come on. Don't be ashamed!

Myth or Mom Part Two: Pork on New Year's

2009-01-04T14:06:00.016-05:00

Did your mom remind you, oh I don't know, three or four times to eat pork on New Year's Day? Mine did. And it wasn't an entirely friendly reminder either. It had a certain "do it or suffer the consequences" tone to it. Which is understood since P is somewhat of a magnet for accidents. Think I'm being dramatic? In five years of marriage, the following has happened to P:

#1. Sank one boat in approximately 50 feet of water.

This is a fun story. Ironically, it all started on New Year's Day four years ago. That's when we outbid someone else for a '94 Moomba skiboat that was within our price range. Despite the unfortunate sinking, I've got to hand it to P. I had given him two stipulations: the boat had to fit our predetermined budget and it couldn't be older than me. It took him six months to find the Moomba and we were shocked it was still so cheap on New Year's Day when the bidding ended. Apparently everyone else was busy eating pork because only one other person was bidding. We "won" and started planning our first boating vacation.

P spent the spring replacing old parts and just generally fixing it up. We took it for a test drive at a local lake and it ran great. So we got together a big group of people and planned a trip to Dale Hollow Lake over Memorial Day. Our first day there, P took turns taking groups of people out on the boat. I was in the first group, the non-sinking group, and experienced a few hours of fun before P arrived back at our campsite announcing the boat's demise. As he was chucking all of our brand new ski equipment from a good samaritan's boat, I asked "Is something wrong?"

"It sank."

Everyone at the campsite laughed.

"No, seriously," I said.

"It sank."

I looked at P's younger brother, who looked back at me and said "I think he's serious." I turned back to P.

"Are you serious?" I asked.

"Yup."

Then some sort of park ranger showed up. So began a fun couple of days where we had to hire scuba divers, rent the marina's barge and find a mechanic willing to work Memorial Day weekend. It ended well though. Insurance covered everything and after about two months with the mechanic, we got the boat back in like-new condition. We haven't had any problems with it since. Stays on top of the water and everything.

As proof, here are a few photos:

This is a picture of the boat hooked up to the barge. It sank in the main channel, so after the scuba divers found it, they had to hook it to the barge and drag it underwater to the marina. The various people who had gathered on the houseboating slips with lawn chairs, towels and snacks were extremely disappointed.

Here's P's brother helping get the boat as close to the surface as possible. We basically had to drag it underwater to get it on the trailer so we could take it to the mechanic immediately. I can't remember if the people in the jon boat pictured in the background were helpers or gawkers. Let me tell you, this incident was the talk of the marina. Every time we go back, at least one person asks us if we're the people who sank a boat.

Oh, one final thing. How did the boat sink? It was a combination of the bilge pump not working correctly and probably too many people in the boat. We were also missing an important piece of plastic above the swim platform that allowed water to come in slowly over the course of the four hour voyage. With the bilge clogged, the water began to weigh the boat down and eventually, the back end started taking on water. P managed to get it as close to the marina as possible before the engine died. Everyone jumped ship and had to swim to the boat slips. P stayed in the water and watched it slowly sink. It caught an air bubble and hung out with the nose sticking straight up for awhile. Another boat tried to tie a rope to the nose to see if they could taxi it in. No such luck.

Understand the hazards of eBay my friends. P had put in a brand new bilge after we got the boat, but the bilge wasn't the problem. The tube leading to the bilge was the problem. It was clogged with leaves and other junk. We also weren't aware that the plastic piece was missing. It was about $25 to replace. However, as bad as it was, it could have been much worse. Dale Hollow Lake is over 60 miles long. It could have sank in a cove or even a main channel in the middle of nowhere. And in several hundred feet of water. In which case, we wouldn't have gotten the boat back and would have had to pay a steep environmental fee. Whew. We really got lucky.

#2. Had emergency surgery in St. Thomas for a burst appendix.

So P finally talked me into going on a cruise. On the second night at sea, he started experiencing intense stomach pain. After it got bad enough, he went to the infirmary to see the ship's doctor. He gave P laxatives. In what might be my favorite line of his since I've known him, he opened up our cabin door, threw the laxatives across the room and announced "I've never been constipated a day in my life!"

He was right. After the constipation diagnosis, we got a flu diagnosis. Then after they had to admit him to the infirmary on the ship, put in an IV and give him morphine, they realized it probably wasn't the flu either. We had to disembark the ship in St. Thomas where an ambulance was waiting for us. Within two hours, he was in surgery. I started thinking it was pretty serious when the surgeon came out to the waiting room and told me his appendix had already burst so the surgery would be long and that I should plan on at least a five day stay. So it was fun for both of us. I had the task of calling his mother and telling her "Hey, your first born son is having emergency surgery in a foreign country. Yup, right now as we speak. But it's cool. The hospital has walls and everything." (It was actually a great hospital. We just didn't know what to expect.)

P came through the surgery okay, but had a rough couple of days after. His temperature kept spiking and it was fairly scary, especially since we were there alone. I refused to leave him so I pushed all our luggage together and slept on top of it. After five days the surgeon discharged him, and told us not to fly for a few days. But P wanted to leave immediately, so we flew to Miami the same afternoon and he recovered with his relatives in Coral Springs. Again, proof:

Notice the washcloth on his forehead and ice packs tucked under his arms. That fever kept coming back! I kept taking pictures because there was nothing else to do.

#3. Suffered from a case of meningitis.

It was viral though and not bacterial, so according to P it was "not a big deal." Again, fairly stressful until we got an official diagnosis. No pictures though, because it would pretty much just be pictures of him sleeping in bed.

#4. Had recurring staph infection.

For the longest time, P insisted the oozing open wound on his shin was an infected spider bite. I insisted that he should let a doctor figure that out. He didn't and because he refused treatment for so long, he passed it on to me through either our bed sheets or the shower. Then he got it again under his arm. Then I started getting a spot on my thigh. Finally, I scoured everything in the bathroom with bleach, threw out a bunch of towels, rugs and sheets, and washed all of our clothes in hot water. It was finally gone after about four months of popping up on one of us.

We still don't know how he got it in the first place, but I'm guessing it was from the hospital in St. Thomas. Oh, I also got hives from the medication I was on. So no pictures of either the staph or the hives because that's just gross. I think I actually have some though because the hives made me look hilarious.

In the end, I get my mom's pork request. (There have also been a few trips to the hospital for stitches--his flag football league used to get pretty intense.) So I told her I ate pork when in truth, I might have eaten pork. I had two hot dogs on New Year's Day. Whether they were beef or pork is up in the air. Guess we'll have to wait it out and see.

2008 Favorites

2009-01-02T02:09:00.009-05:00

It's a little late, but here are some of my favorite things, events or people from 2008:

San Francisco - I didn't blog about it, but P and I took a trip to San Francisco in mid-November. He was out there training for his new job, and I joined him at the end of the week so we could celebrate our 5th anniversary together. We did all the touristy stuff, ate ridiculous amounts of food and had the best time together. In fact, it was so good that I let P talk me into going to the Ripley's Believe It Or Not museum on our last night. If you know us, you know that Ripley's is probably on P's top 3 favorite things about the trip and I haven't thought about it since we left.

Facebook - For the past few years, I've had some weird hesitation about joining a social networking site like Facebook or Myspace. From the outside, it seemed highly narcissistic (of course, so would blogging). But after signing up for a work-related project, I found it to be a great way to keep in touch, re-establish relationships and get to know people a little better. It also helps me to be the best stalker I can be. Kidding, of course. Kind of.

I'll Bag You Like Some Groceries - This is a line from Usher's song Love In This Club, which was released in February. I actually like the song (God help me), but just crack up every time I hear this line in the rap by Young Jeezy. Hmm. I'll bag you like some groceries. How do you bag your groceries, Young Jeezy? Forcefully? Tenderly? With proper weight distribution? Dare I ask if you, ah hem, double bag? It's so ridiculous that I love it.

By the way, most of the above information I had to look up on Wikipedia. Young Jeezy? Come on, I wouldn't know that guy without using a tool like Wikipedia. I live in an area small enough that it's called a village.

Tennessee - It was another great year for fun and fellowship in Tennessee. Camping, boating, friends, family, cards and the addition of the Cabana Islander. Oh, and I got up on slalom twice! Darn it that it's only January! For some pictures, click here. For videos, click here.

Chris Cooley - In case you don't know who Cooley is, this is all you need to know: he's a tight end for the Washington Redskins, he has awesome hair and he maintains a highly entertaining blog called The Cooley Zone. I first came across Cooley a few years ago while searching for a tight end in my fantasy league after some lightweight (probably Todd Heap) got hurt. This is the head shot Yahoo Sports had on file for him:

As most anyone would do after seeing that hair, I picked him up immediately. This year, I was all set to draft him, but the other lady in the league got him (friggin' Carrie) and I was stuck with my old nemesis (friggin' Heap). Anyhow, I found out he had a blog after he had a somewhat unfortunate incident involving his, um, grocery bagger (see Love In This Club). Really, I could care less, but I'm glad it happened because I wouldn't have heard about his blog otherwise. The Cooley Zone gives the everyday person a peek into the NFL, which I find endlessly fascinating. It's funny, honest and entertaining. Perhaps I'm projecting, but it seems like Cooley's the type of guy who has fun with life and realizes how darn cool it is to be an NFL player. And I dig that.

Fantasy Football - Speaking of the NFL, Lionel Richie Fan Club took home the silver this year! And $150! And bragging rights after beating all the guys but one! Really, I shouldn't be using all these exclamation points though. It's not a terribly surprising victory--I'm a top notch GM. And I'm going to bring it in '09 too.

Scripps National Spelling Bee/Numnah - Meet Sameer Mishra, an 8th grader from Indiana. While participating in this nationally televised spelling bee, he ran across an interesting word. Check it out:

Not only does this clip crack me up every time I see it, but I'm always amazed by his composure. Cool as a cucumber. By the way, Sameer went on to win the competition. Quite an accomplishment.

Kid Rock/All Summer Long - I love Kid Rock and I love this song. It's a great mashup of Werewolves of London and Sweet Home Alabama, and talks about summertime in northern Michigan. I know all about summertime in northern Michigan! I grew up in Toledo and spent many summers there. Could this possibly mean that Kid Rock and I are soulmates?!

Mayonnaise - Nothing in particular happened. It just continued to rock my world in '08.

This Blog - One of my resolutions for 2008 was to start writing more. With this blog, I've been able to do that fairly easily, and SN is quite possibly the first resolution I've ever been successful at carrying out. So it's depressing and momentous at the same time! I started writing just for myself, with no intention of any type of readership. But there are a few of you out there and I just wanted to say thanks!

It's only two days into the new year and I already have a few candidates for the 2009 list: the Four Acres bowling team (consisting of me, P, P's dad and best friend) and our new Wii. Can't wait to see how this year plays out!

Here's to a happy and healthy 2009!

Do You Believe in Angels?

2008-12-23T13:27:00.004-05:00

After spending over 16 years in Catholic schools, attending church every Sunday (up until about 5 years ago) and even serving as a Eucharistic minister, I still struggle with faith. How do we know there is a Heaven? How do we know God has a plan for us? Where are the water-to-wine miracles? The elementary answer I've always gotten is that you just have to have faith.

But what exactly is faith and can it be defined? The older I get, I'm starting to see that faith is different for everyone. People use faith to deal with all different types of things--death, sickness, troubled times. And sometimes faith is just an everyday thing that people have.

I can't say that my own faith is rock solid. It's my nature to question things. But my faith has grown much stronger since my grandma, a faithful believer, passed away close to 5 years ago. Among other things, I listened to Vince Gill's song Go Rest High On That Mountain as a way to comfort myself. It's a beautiful song and these lyrics specifically made me happy:

Your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and Son

Because that's how Grandma made an entrance.

And now, almost always after thinking about Grandma, I hear that song. It's happened at home, in my car during rush hour (which is weird--a 15 year old song that is slow and sad is not typical rush hour music) and at work. It always causes me to stop and smile. So that's my faith. That she's somewhere, still in-tune with her family.

I ran across this article today and think it's a wonderful example of faith. Whether people say it's true or a sun spot or a doctored image or scientifically not possible, who cares? It gave this mother reason to continue to believe. And that's the great thing about faith. It's what people do with it that counts.

http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/28364813/?GT1=43001#storyContinued

Go Ahead. Make My Millennium.

2008-12-18T16:56:00.009-05:00

As I've mentioned before, I tend to eavesdrop. Don't get me wrong, it's never malicious. But if I hear something amusing enough, I file it away. And today, ladies and gentlemen, I got a gem.

I was in Victoria's Secret during my lunch hour finishing up some Christmas shopping. Minding my own business, of course. Well, that's not entirely true. Let's be honest, I also love to people watch. And let me tell you, Christmastime at Victoria's Secret is the perfect place to people watch. Women are hastily trying to find the perfect sexy outfit. Men won't look at anything or anyone for longer than 2 seconds. Lots of nervousness. But the absolute best is when a couple shops at Vicki's together. Perhaps women see it as a way to get some guidance as to what is super sexy. And maybe it gives men license to linger a little longer than they normally would. The couple I saw today was a perfect case study to support this theory.

The woman, in her late thirties, was practically running from item to item, holding them up for her husband to either support or veto. At first, he stayed about two steps behind her, but eventually began going off on his own. He actually started picking stuff up and offering suggestions. Hands out of pockets and touching lingerie. Amazing. Pretty soon, it was like he owned the place.

After awhile, they made their purchases and were headed back my way in order to leave the store. I guess he was still on the Vicki's natural high because he was still pointing stuff out and making comments. As soon as they passed me, he stopped, pointed at a pair of pajama pants and said "Huh. Those look like somethin' Beetlejuice'd wear!"

I did some investigative research and really, can you blame him?

The pants in question.

Beetlejuice.

So I guess the moral of the story is to take your man lingerie shopping with you. If you don't, you'll end up paying $98 dollars for a pair of sexy pants that will make your man think of Beetlejuice when you are trying to get down to business.

Just a bit of advice. That's what I'm here for folks.

My First Meme

2008-12-13T10:58:00.003-05:00

I was tagged to do a meme by Netter, and while I love this kind of stuff, the directions say I have to complete it and then tag 5 more people. Sadly, I don't have 5 blogging friends to tag. So, if it's okay to break the rules, I'm just going to tag my big bro over at Jacob's Field. I'd love to tag my mom, dad and even Anonymous (just to see how this generation's Scrooge gets through the holidays), but they are all blogless. Until you guys get in the game, I'm going to have to make an effort to make some more blogging friends!

1) Wrapping paper or gift bags? Hmm. For Christmas, mostly gift wrap. Any other time of year? Gift bags.

2) Real tree or artificial? Real tree. Love the experience of going to pick one out with P. We've got some pretty good memories--like last year, for instance, when the guy at the tree farm lost his razor blade trying to cut twine out of our tree. I located said blade a few days later when I got a flat. Only P and I would manage to run over it in the vast space of a tree farm. Then there's our first Christmas together when we went to a u-cut farm and it was so hot P had to take off his shirt while cutting down the tree. I didn't mind though...

3) When do you put up the tree? Usually after Thanksgiving.

4) When do you take the tree down? When it dies? Seriously, sometimes not until the end of January. We like it!

5) Do you like eggnog? YES!

6) Favorite gift received as a child? A Barbie pool seems to stick out in my mind.

7) Hardest person to buy for? This is a tough one. Probably Mom, but just because her b-day is a few days before Christmas!

8) Easiest person to buy for? Wow. This is a tough one too. Has to be a tie between P and my brother. With P, you can't miss with fishing, boating or golfing stuff. With Frank, you can't miss because he tells you EXACTLY which gift card he wants.

9) Do you have a nativity scene? Yes, we got one from P's mom for Christmas a few years ago. I love it, but it's not like the one Mom and Dad had growing up. Mom and Dad's has removable pieces and a hay loft. You never know who Frank and I would put up in that loft. A camel? Check. A wise man? Check. Baby Jesus? Check. Hey, we were kids!

10) Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I don't know. Probably underwear or socks.

11) Favorite Christmas Movie? Tough, but it's GOT to be It's a Wonderful Life. I just love it!

12) Favorite Christmas song? White Christmas by Otis Redding.

13) Travel at Christmas or stay home? Usually both. Might change when we have kids though!

14) Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Yes. Two words: rice cooker.

15) Favorite ornament theme or color? I really like the look of white lights with gold trim, but it's just not as fun as the old school colorful lights! I remember Dad putting them up every year--seeing them always reminds me of Eastland Drive!

Quick Poll Results: SN Readers Like Eggnog, Hate Quick Polls

2008-12-11T17:37:00.004-05:00

Seriously people. You hate my polls don't you? Since I was one of the SIX replies (somebody had to get the ball rolling), thanks to the five of you who took the time to take the poll. I sincerely appreciate it. We'll get to the double digits eventually!

Gone Baby Gone

2008-12-09T17:17:00.002-05:00

Earlier this year, one of the restaurants in my little town made the evening news by catching fire and temporarily shutting down one of the main state routes in Ohio. The restaurant, a BBQ joint with the best pizza in town (yes, you read that correctly), didn't burn to the ground but sustained enough damage to close. We wondered what would happen until a For Sale sign appeared under the word "FIRE" on the side of the building.

Months have gone by and nothing has happened. I thought we were destined to have an ugly, empty building to look at--and no more pizza at that! I was a bit surprised to drive by late last week and see half of the building missing, a dump truck in its place. I'm not sure if someone bought it and is planning to rebuild, but by the very next day, the building was gone. The only reminder it once stood there is a row of artifacts lined up against the back fence: a deep fryer, tables, chairs, bar stools, a kitchen sink.

Oh, and a mannequin. Yup. Pale skin, shiny black hair and a fierce hot pink strapless mini-dress.

I don't remember seeing this mannequin used in the restaurant for any purpose, so I'm at a loss for where she came from. All I know is that when I passed by later that night, she was gone. Still there were all the tables, chairs and bar stools. But that mannequin? Gone baby, gone. I should mention that this particular day was one of the coldest Ohio has had all year. It also snowed somewhat unexpectedly. So someone trudged out in the snow and cold to cherry pick the best find in the bunch. I only wish I had gotten a photo. Wonder where she is tonight?

Quick Poll: Do You Nog?

2008-12-03T22:45:00.002-05:00

I probably shouldn't admit this, but one of my favorite things about Christmas is eggnog. It's so tasty and has such a unique flavor that to me, it's Christmas in a cup. To my mom's side of the family, it's more than that. To them, it's not complete without fresh nutmeg, rum and a huge punch bowl. To each his own of course, but I prefer mine naked--no liquor, no nutmeg, just pure deliciousness.

I'm curious to see where you stand. Love it, hate it or never tried it? Take my poll to the right.

And to my fellow eggnog lovers (wherever you are), I've got three words for you: McDonald's Eggnog Milkshake.

Flat

2008-11-28T22:07:00.008-05:00

*All Names and DaTes Have Been Changed

Earlier this week while leaving for work, I noticed that one of my tires looked dangerously low--and I did the worst thing ever. I drove on it anyway. Actually, I made P come out and look at it first. He didn't seem too worried about it and said he'd put air in it "later." Because P and I celebrated our 5th anniversary just last week (hooray!) I know that for "later" to happen, I will have to nag him for at least a week until I finally get him by painting a fairly graphic picture of how the tire will pop, I'll skid off the road, land in a ditch out of sight and survive only as long as my half-empty water bottles and unopened McDonald's BBQ packets will allow.

As a side note, you should know that P's idea of car maintenance is suspect. He once let all four tires on our old Corolla blow out individually because "it didn't make sense" to replace all 4 at the same time. Seriously. Who does that? He even had to change one in the Hocking Hills during a snowstorm while wearing a suit. For the record, I did not feel sorry for him. I just hoped it knocked some sense into him. To date, no such luck.

Back to my story. I made it to work, but at lunchtime noticed that the tire was almost completely flat. So I drove it to a tire place close to my work to see if they could look at it for me. I walked inside and was greeted by a gentleman who asked if I had an appointment. Our conversation went something like this:

Him: "Do you have an appointment?"

Me (with a big smile, because I almost always smile when I greet people):
"No, I have a flat and was wondering if you could check it out for me."

Him: "We're booked pretty solid until 5 today."

Me: "Okay?"

Him: "I suppose I could see if we could fit it in, but I don't know. We're booked until 5."

Me: "Okaaaayyyy. Can I leave it and you can just get to it if you can?"

Him: "We are just absolutely booked until 5."

Me: No words, just looking around in confusion for someone else who might be able to decipher this whole booked until 5 code. At that moment, another employee walked in.

Him #1: "Aren't we just absolutely booked from now until 5?"

Him #2: At first, no words, just the expression of wide eyes, an exaggerated breath of air and raised eyebrows. You know the look. "We are booked until 5."

Me: "Okaaaayyyy. So should I take it somewhere else?"

Him #2: "Well, it would have helped if you would have had an appointment."

Enough. I never do this, but...

Me, rather loudly: "I know. But I didn't plan on getting a flat tire today. I would have loved to make an appointment if I had known though. Sorry!"

I think I might have thrown my arms up in the air too. Really, my exasperation was a result of not being told my options. It's fine if you are booked solid until 5, but quit telling me that and let's move on to the next step. Do I leave my keys and come back later? Should I make an appointment for the first open slot at 5? Should I go somewhere else? Let's move on to the problem solving portion of the conversation!

To my surprise and embarrassment, it worked.

Him #2: "It's just with the holidays, people are traveling a lot so they're bringing in their cars for work. We're just really busy."

Me: "That's fine, just tell me what I should do. Should I take it somewhere else?"

Him #2: "Can you leave the keys here and come back later? We'll call you when it's done."

I handed over the keys and got a ride back to work. A few hours later, I called to check on the progress. They were just getting it into the garage, but by the time I got there it would probably be ready. I arrived, waited around for a bit, then was handed my keys and told I was ready to go. I followed Him #2 out to the cash register, but he waived me away.

Him #2: "Nope. This one's on me."

Me: "Thank you, but no. I'm going to pay."

Him #2: "No, no. Seriously. It's been taken care of."

Me: "I'm going to pay."

Him #2: "No, just think of us when you need new tires."

I shrugged my shoulders, said thanks one more time and left. It felt weird though. Did he waive my payment because I complained? Do complainers get more attention? Hmm. Squeaky wheel gets the grease.

I've often heard my mother, a middle school teacher, lament how her trouble makers sometimes get more of her attention than her well-behaved students. It bothers her quite a bit because, well, it's not fair. I suppose it's a little different because these kids aren't complaining, they're just acting out. But I also suppose, whether they realize it or not, they know that when they're bad, they get more attention. So they continue to be bad.

And it's the same with complainers. I've seen complainers in action in stores, restaurants (although the complainer is risking a little something extra in their food), at the airport, at work. Everywhere. What makes me sick is that the complainer most likely gets his/her way, even if it's ridiculous. I've been in a group with a complainer and when the complaining starts, I want to bolt for the nearest exit.

Bottom line: I don't want to be a complainer! I want to live in a world where being nice gets you good service. Where patience and a smile open doors (and fix flat tires). But, but...I just got free car service because I was rude. Is this really the world we live in? Where people respond more to rudeness than kindness? Yuck! For me, if paying meant erasing my tiny outburst, I would have paid double. So I'm sticking with kindness. How about you?

Pickles and Clams, Pickles and Clams!

2008-11-17T22:20:00.003-05:00

I have a stalker. Thankfully, I got a good look at her the other day: about 5'7", brown hair, pasty white skin, green eyes and freakishly small hands. Socially awkward, to say the least. She's married, lives in small neighborhood and has a dog. Hey, wait...she sounds familiar.

That's right, I'm my own stalker.

Earlier this year I added an application to this blog called FEEDJIT. It provides a live time and date stamp, and tracks where readers come from. Sounds neat, huh? Well, I've become a little obsessed.

I mean, how cool is it that I can see what people query when they click here from Google? Let me tell you, it's very cool. So cool that I started checking my blog every few hours to see if I had gotten any new visitors from far away places. FEEDJIT, I was smitten.

But then I started to see a trend: every single person who arrived here from Google searched either Pickles Cause Nightmares or Duck for the Oyster Dive for the Clam. And as far as I can tell, none of them have been back.

So. This is what you want? Pickles and clams? Fine. The Internet has a wealth of information and I'm confident I can give you the fix you need. In fact, I'll start today.

Sometimes Nothing Picklicious Fun Fact #1:
Americans consume more than 9 pounds of pickles per person annually. (Say that five times fast.)

Sometimes Nothing Clammy Hands Naked Truth Numero Uno:
The giant clam gets only one chance to find a nice home. Once it fastens itself to a spot on a reef, there it sits for the rest of its life. (Pick yourself a winner!)

Bathroom Lottery

2008-11-16T22:36:00.006-05:00

In 2006, a contractor in Cleveland found nearly $180,000 behind a bathroom wall in the house of a former high school classmate who had hired him for a home improvement project. According to labeling on one of the envelopes, the money belonged to a wealthy businessman who lived in the home during the Great Depression. Together, the contractor and home owner inspected the rare bills and took pictures of the find.

Normally I love stories like this. However, this one probably turned sour immediately after the last picture was taken. The contractor most likely hung around, waiting for an offer. The home owner most likely packed up the money, pretending like it didn't exist. Eventually, the home owner offered 10%, but the contractor wanted 40%. As they went back and forth, The Plain Dealer somehow picked up the story and the descendants of the businessman stepped forward and sued for a right to the money. All 21 of them.

To see how it all worked out, click here. I'm interested to see what you think: did the contractor have a right to the money? Was 10% a fair offer? If you were the contractor, would you have pocketed the money or reported it?

Hmm. Greed makes people do funny things.

Successful Surprise Party - Happy 30th P!

2008-11-14T21:14:00.003-05:00

There was a keg. There was karaoke. I give you this picture.

After we got home and were getting ready for bed, I asked P if he had a good time.

"Yes," he said. "It was a fun good time."

Which I think could be the Midwest's answer to Boston's "wicked good." I'm now saying it as much as possible. I don't think P remembers coining this new phrase, but I'm rolling with it anyway.

The Tribe Has Spoken...

2008-11-09T22:23:00.002-05:00

...and 8 of you don't want to hear Christmas music until Thanksgiving. The last voter doesn't even want to hear it until Christmas Eve. So cool it until late November, Delilah!

As a side note, I was pleased as punch to see that 9 of you took the survey. So close to double digits I can't stand it!

By Special Request

2008-11-02T20:59:00.003-05:00

This past Friday, October 31, while on hold with a doctor's office, I heard it for the first time this year: Christmas music. Just now I checked my cell phone and had a message from my brother saying he had great blog material for me. He had just come from Wal-Mart, where he had been treated to Silent Night and other Christmas tunes playing on the in-store stereo system. Apparently Halloween is the new Thanksgiving.

I'm torn because I really do love the holiday season. I love the traditions we do to prepare for the upcoming season: watching It's a Wonderful Life, Elf and The Bishop's Wife (the original, NOT the Whitney Houston disaster), pulling out the Kitchen Aid mixer my grandma gave me for my wedding and making all sorts of Christmas cookies, decorating the front of the house with lights, wreaths and ribbons, shopping for special gifts (Anti-Monkey Butt Powder) and of course, listening to Christmas music. It really sets the mood for the season. But it's supposed to be 70-degrees here for the next five days, so it's NOT the season.

Of course, this theory doesn't really matter for people like my brother who live in areas of the country where it's 70-degrees most of the "winter." So I guess my argument is really that it's just flat out ridiculous to start Christmas music on October 31. Why can't we slow down, enjoy all the holidays (yes, Halloween is a holiday in this household) and not rush through everything?

What do you think? Take my new poll to the right--I'm interested to see the results of this one! Feliz Navidad...

Pickle Update: See If I Care

2008-10-31T23:52:00.002-04:00

For those interested, I didn't experience any nightmares as a result of eating pickles before bedtime the other night. I did, however, receive an email from my mother the next day that said: "Eat all the pickles you want. See if I care!"

Eating Pickles Before Bed Gives You Nightmares: Myth or Mom?

2008-10-28T21:35:00.003-04:00

I've been sick for over a week now and haven't had much of an appetite, except for pickles (okay, and Cheez-It Party Mix). Pickles are an all-time favorite of mine and when I have them in the house, they don't last long. So while eating my third spear tonight at about 9:00, I had a mini panic attack. I remembered that when I was little, my mom told me that eating too many pickles before bedtime causes nightmares. But this can't be true, can it? Certainly it's one of those things parents make up to keep their kids in line.

In this case, my mom was probably trying to extend the shelf life of her groceries. Scaring me off the pickles with the nightmare line makes sense. But I find myself in bed, 29 years old and a little afraid to fall asleep. So myth or just mom? We'll find out in the morning.

Nick and Nora's Infinite Baby Collection

2008-10-22T14:10:00.003-04:00

During my lunch hour yesterday, I stopped by the local Target to pick up a baby shower gift for a party this weekend. Registry in hand, I walked up and down the baby department aisles looking at all the wares. Adorable items like blankets, booties and hats. Necessities like baby first aid kits, diapers and wipes. And not-yet-a-mother terrifying items like nursing bra pads, breastmilk ice packs and contact nipple shields (what? what? WHAT?).

I made my selection (not the nipple shields) and walked over to the baby clothes to find a cute onesie. While browsing, I spotted a sign all the way across the department that read: Nick and Nora's Baby Collection - 30% Off! I actually stopped in my tracks and thought: they've made baby clothes for Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist? Immediately, I was pissed. I get the whole marketing to kids in fast food meals, on diapers and with toys--but for cartoons or age appropriate movies. This, this was ridiculous! Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist isn't even a kids movie! What is the world coming to? How low will studio execs go to sell movies? Why, Target, why?

I made a beeline for the display, expecting to see little outfits with cassette tapes, yellow cars and floating heads of Nick and Norah.

That is NOT what I found.

Instead, I found the sweetest, most innocent collection of baby wear I've ever seen. Puppies and ribbons and rainbows. Nick and Nora do have a baby collection, but it's Nick and Nora without an "h" or the Infinite Playlist. I guess I need to do a little more research before becoming a mother someday. The nipple shields will be on a need to know basis though.

Deep Fried Cheesecake? Check!

2008-10-18T23:07:00.003-04:00

The third weekend of October brings a special treat to Pickaway County every year: the Circleville Pumpkin Show. For those of you who have never been, it's dubbed the Greatest Free Show on Earth and takes place in downtown Circleville, a small town south of Columbus with a population of around 12,000. Over 300 food and game vendors line the streets, and attendance each day reaches 100,000. My favorite Pumpkin Show activities are the Thursday night Marching Band Parade, playing the cane game and, of course, eating.

As you can imagine, most of the offerings are pumpkin flavored--pumpkin chili, pumpkin hamburgers and pumpkin taffy. I tend to stay away from any pumpkin flavored foods that aren't desserts, and fortunately (or unfortunately, I guess), that leaves A LOT. Here's a list of all the items I sampled this week (at least a bite):

- Chicken and Noodles
- Pumpkin Cheesecake
- Italian Sausage Sandwich
- Cannoli
- Crab Corn Chowder
- Cream Puff
- Pumpkin Pie
- Steak-on-a-Stick
- French Fries
- Pizza
- Lemon Shake-up
- Deep Fried Cheesecake
- Bee Sting Pastry
- Cheese-on-a-Stick

Who needs vegetables?

P Gets a New Job; SN Readers Get a Lazy Post

2008-10-14T23:17:00.003-04:00

P started a new job this week, and while it's an incredibly awesome move, it's caused a tiny bit of chaos in our household. We've been swapping computers, moving furniture and fighting with Time Warner. So without easy access, I give you another video post. It isn't political and has nothing to do with the economy--it's just a commercial from a few years ago that I always found amusing and clever. Who knew Martin Scorsese, director of some of the most violent and depressing movies of our time, had a sharp sense of humor?

Got any favorites of your own?

The World According to P

2008-10-07T21:50:00.002-04:00

P's take on the Presidential debate tonight?

"Both of these guys are shady. I'd vote for Tom Brokaw though."

I think he was joking, but I'm not sure. He's not above a write-in.

Two Bare Feet On The Dashboard

2008-10-05T23:21:00.005-04:00

With crisp mornings and cool nights settling in, I thought it would be appropriate to post some of my favorite summertime videos. Most of them are goofy, but that's how we roll in this household. Oh, and I haven't mastered the editing software, so I just didn't edit anything. Enjoy:

My favorite thing about this video is listening to the people talking in the background. Listen carefully and you'll hear something like "My goodness. You still bathing?" Again, that's how we roll--there's nothing like a good shampoo in the lake.

This is P's younger brother's girlfriend jumping off the cliff in Tennessee for the first time. Lewis' commentary, a random boater blasting music to coax her to jump and her terrifying scream might make this the best video of the summer. Way to go, Heather!

A little action from our zipline tour in Hocking Hills. P holds the camera on one of the longer lines--as close to the real thing as you can get!

This video serves two purposes. 1. It proves that I actually did the zipline. 2. It proves that P can actually use our camera.

These last two are from last year, but I thought I'd include them anyway. This is P barefooting off the top of the pontoon boat--it definitely wins the best story award: P's aunt was flipping out that he was going to try this. She tried pleading with me to stop him. Like he's going to listen to me. So she moved on to P's mom, but found her in the water, positioning the boat so P would have a better angle. I love it! I guess raising five kids makes you less nervous about potential injuries.

I really don't know why, but this video just cracks me up. All four were supposed to swan dive, but the middle two either chickened out or forgot. I just like listening to P's laugh--it reminds me of summer. (See what I did there? Brought this post full circle.)

One Thing Is Not Like The Other

2008-10-03T00:53:00.001-04:00

A Little Fun and the American People, You Know

2008-10-03T00:01:00.004-04:00

Instead of debating the debate, I thought I'd send some willing readers to a rather fun article my dad, an English teacher, passed along to me. It's from Slate.com, so while it's biased, it's also deliciously entertaining (at least for English majors).

Click here to check it out.

The Kid or The Carpet?

2008-09-26T19:06:00.004-04:00

Earlier this week, a coworker of mine fresh from maternity leave experienced one of her first panic attacks as a new mother. She was carrying her infant son down the stairs and somehow tripped and fell down the last few steps. In an instant, she managed to lift him above her head to keep him steady and safe. He whimpered for a second, but was fine. Telling the story a few hours later, it was clear she was still a bit shaken. While telling her that I was sure he was fine, I couldn't help but think of a similar experience I had with my own mother when I was younger. However, my story ended a bit differently.

I was in high school and walking down the stairs by myself. My mother was in the bathroom at the top of the stairs getting ready for work. Halfway down I slipped and tumbled all the way to the foyer, landing on my butt with my legs flipped up in the air back toward the stairs. I happened to be carrying a glass of orange juice. Because I screamed a little and made quite a bit of noise, I knew my mom would appear, worried about what happened. Sure enough, I looked up and there she stood, curling iron in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other (if she had another hand, it would have been on her hip).

"Did you get any juice on the carpet?" she asked.

Now don't get the wrong idea. My mom is the sweetest lady and spent most of my childhood worried about my safety--it was prompted by things like sporting events, field trips, sleeping in my bed at night. But eventually, I suspect that my mom, like most parents, got to the point were she just couldn't sweat the small stuff anymore. During this stair surfing incident, I was a teenager, not a baby or toddler, and perfectly capable of letting her know if I was truly hurt. She obviously knew I was okay or else she would have been down those stairs in a flash. But she wasn't overly concerned about clucking over me either.

Still, it strikes me as funny. When and why do parents get to that point? Is it the age of the child? Exhaustion from years of worrying? Brand new, really expensive carpet?

Someday my coworker will probably watch her son take a bad spill and tell him to rub some grass on it or walk it off. But right now, she's definitely taking the kid over the carpet. Where are you? Vote in my poll to the right and be honest. Somewhere, some way, your mother is watching you...

P.S. Mom, if you're reading this, I'd like to remind you that I didn't get any juice on the carpet that day. So maybe consider cutting me some slack on this post!

Duck for the Oyster, Dive for the Clam

2008-09-23T20:09:00.003-04:00

This past Saturday, I did something I thought I'd never do. Y'all, I went square dancing. P's family hosted a corn roast that included a bonfire, homemade chili and a square dance caller after dinner. I really wasn't looking forward to it because I prefer to make fun of things I'm not familiar with, but much to my surprise I ended up having a lot of fun! It was very casual, with the grass as our dance floor. No professionals, nothing serious. Just a bunch of friends and family having a small town Saturday night! Check out some pictures from the night:

This is Duck for the Oyster, Dive for the Clam with the whole group. I called for a sub on this one and took pictures instead.

The same thing, but with a smaller group.

P sporting his cowboy look. At first, not so much. But toward the end of the night, I got used to it. You know, once a year is fine.

P and I after some dancing.

That's a Long Distance Call - Doug!

2008-09-21T22:35:00.006-04:00

Football season's got me thinking about one of my all-time favorite athletes. That's right: Terry Tate, office linebacker.

If I Had a Million Dollars

2008-09-19T00:39:00.006-04:00

Think about it. What would you do if you had a million dollars? How drastically would it change your life? Would you quit your job? Morph into a different person? Develop expensive tastes?

I can't immediately answer all these questions, but I can give you three absolutes: I would buy my dad a boat, I would hunt down and purchase the Addams Family pinball game for my mom, and I would continue shopping at Value City. Because basically, a trip to Value City is a priceless experience and I assume that even as a millionaire, I wouldn't stop having fun. Snobs just don't know what they're missing. Here's an example of something I saw while shopping there earlier this week:

African Blow Dart Recall - Not a Child's Toy! Please Return to Store Immediately!

Seriously, where else are you going to see an African Blow Dart recall? The flyer even explained how it had been sold as a child's toy, but it in fact, was a fully functional blow dart. How does the buyer for Value City make that type of mistake? Amazing. Priceless. Hilarious.

I will never stop shopping at the VC--I'll just stick to my rules of no toys (see blow dart example), no off-brand electronics (fire hazard) and no Christmas or birthday shopping there (see blow dart example). I don't want to be responsible for any of my nephews shooting up their neighborhood friends with the brand new blow dart Aunt Mo Mo gave them.

Swapping CDs: Illegal or Common Sense?

2008-09-13T14:45:00.002-04:00

I was talking music with a co-worker earlier this week, and during our conversation I mentioned that I sometimes go to the local library, check out CDs and download the songs I like to my iPod. I thought nothing of it, and only mentioned it because he was telling me he was trying to decide whether or not he should buy an entire CD based on the snippets iTunes allows users to hear. Really, I thought I was giving him a tip.

Instead, he told me that he feels uncomfortable even letting his friends borrow his CDs just so they can burn them or download them to an MP3 player. Now, I've always been known as a follow-the-rules type of person. The last time I was at the hospital, I asked the discharge nurse where I should take my $150 co-pay. But not letting my friends borrow my CDs? Even I'm not that much of a downer.

To be fair, this guys really loves music. And maybe rules, I'm not sure. His intentions are good--he feels that the activity of file sharing is ripping off artists. But haven't we (and by "we" I mean society) been file sharing for years? Books, movies and music are all available for checkout at your local library.

So what do you think? Am I taking advantage of my library by downloading music from their CDs to my iPod? If so, should I also stop checking out books? Because those artists aren't seeing a penny from me either.

Hmm. How technology changes the world.

I'm really interested to see what Jimmer thinks about this one.

Never Wanted Nothing More

2008-09-03T22:56:00.005-04:00

Vacations are a tricky thing in life. If we took them all the time, we probably wouldn't appreciate them as much. But still, this past Labor Day I think I could have managed a few more days of boating, camping, reading and trading stories around the fire. It's sad to leave, to close out the summer, but like Practically Netter, I welcome the fall. A whole new set of activities await and for some reason, fall does something for my soul (it might, however, just be the chili P makes during football season).

That said, the 2nd Annual Labor Day Dale Hollow Extravaganza was a great end to a wonderful summer! Check out a few pictures from the trip:

This is the pontoon boat we rented for a few days. It's just not possible to have a bad time with this boat and the crew we had on board!

Here is the view from our campsite. Sigh...

P, his cousin, his brother and little sister out on a morning barefoot run. His sister is the one out on the boom. She has more guts than me, although I did surprise myself by jumping off the top of the pontoon boat by the end of the trip. With a life jacket on, of course.

And finally, this is me reading and relaxing out on the Cabana Islander, which is quite possibly the second love of my life. I'm considering inflating it and putting it in the family room this winter if I miss it too much.

It's Official: I Am An Old Lady

2008-08-24T11:35:00.006-04:00

For those of you unfamiliar with Cedar Point, it's an amusement/roller coaster park that is the greatest place on earth for kids, teenagers and thrill seekers. I am none of those things, but since I hadn't been in about 6 or 7 years, I decided it was time to check it out again. This is what I found:

1. I hate wooden roller coasters. This includes the Mean Streak, the Blue Streak and the Mine Ride. Yes, the Mine Ride. We got stuck on the last hill for a few minutes and even rolled back a bit. This equals me never riding it again.

2. I love skeeball.

3. I hate kids and teenagers (okay, not all kids and teenagers, just the bad ones). At the end of the night while standing in line for the Raptor, I got spit on. Some kid or teenager spit out on the crowd from the ride. As P cleaned it off my back, I watched a teenager full on pick his nose in the line ahead of me. I had had enough at that point and we left for the night immediately after the ride.

4. I love keeping up-to-date on the latest white trash fashion trends. This includes peekaboo thongs, airbrushed t-shirts and angel wing tattoos.

5. I hate going to the park with a thrill seeker when there's only one thrill seeker in the group. Do you want to ride the Top Thrill Dragster? No. Millenium Force? No. Magnum? No. Wicked Twister? No. Mantis? No. I felt so bad that telling P no, but I just can't do the big rides anymore. I did ride the Gemini and Iron Dragon with him though, so there.

6. I love the Sky Ride.

7. I hate feeling like I need to be scrubbed with Germ X immediately after leaving the park. This would apply even if didn't get spit on.

8. I love the giant old-fashioned swing. Although this year even that ride almost made me sick.

So, yup, it's official. I'm definitely an old lady. But will I go again? Sure. But it will probably be over Halloweekends so I can at least go to some haunted houses!

Making Others 100% More Awkward Since 1979

2008-08-18T23:56:00.002-04:00

I like to think that God blessed me with some special talents in this life. And you know what? He did, He just didn't give me any conventional talents. While it turns out that I can't play the piano a lick, keep a plant alive for longer than a week or speak French after 4 years of classes, I can turn a normal interaction into the most awkward situation in a matter of seconds. Here's an example of me ending a phone conversation today with a potential work partner:

Him: "So I should follow-up with you in about a month?"

Me: "Yes, that will work."

Him: "Ok, I look forward to talking with you then."

Me: "Yes, call me. A month should be good."

Silence.

Me: "So, call me around then and we might be ready to move forward. You know, hopefully, if we like it."

Him: "Ok, I'll be calling you."

Me: "Ok. I mean, that should be good. I don't see why it wouldn't be. Unless, of course . . . you know, just call."

Him: "Ok, thanks for your time."

Me: "Thanks for your time."

Him: "You, too."

See what I did there? I totally threw him off. By the end of the conversation, he was dying for me to end the call. Just waiting for me to tell him something like "have a great night" or "it was nice talking with you." He had "you, too" all ready to go. But instead, he probably hung up the phone, scratched his head and thought: how did that happen?

Bet he's counting down the days until he dials my number again. "So glad you called! I've been waiting for you to call. Well, not waiting, you know. But I was expecting your call, so I was thinking about it . . ."

The Sweetest Thing

2008-08-10T11:54:00.007-04:00

Last night while working the fish fry booth at the local festival, I took an order from an older gentleman for three fish sandwiches on wheat bread. I shouted the order back to the fryers and turned back to take the old man's money. He had his $12 in one hand and a covered soup pan in the other.

"Would you mind putting the fish in here?" he asked as he slid the pan over to me on the counter. "My wife just got home from the hospital yesterday and I promised her I would run up here to get her some fish. I want to make sure it's still warm by the time I get home."

"Sure," I said. "We can absolutely do that."

I carried the pan to the back and took off the lid. As I got ready to load the fish, I noticed that he had lined the pan with tin foil and placed a few napkins at the bottom to soak up the grease. I put the fish in, folded the foil over and put the bread on top. Making sure the lid fit tightly, I carried the pan back to the man.

"Will this do?" I asked.

"This will be perfect," he said. "I know she'll like it."

"Well I hope she feels better soon," I said.

He smiled and said "I hope so, too."

It was all so sweet I almost cried right there in the fish booth. The only thing that stopped me was imagining that five minutes earlier the bedridden wife probably shouted exact orders to him regarding the proper packing of fried fish: "Get out the foil!" "Don't forget the napkins!" "Use a pan with a lid!"

Closer to reality? Probably...

Don't You Just Hate It...

2008-07-30T22:29:00.005-04:00

...when you go the whole day and realize that you forgot to put on deodorant?

New Applications Are Fun!

2008-07-29T21:41:00.002-04:00

While playing around with the settings on blogger tonight, I came across the new survey application. So I decided to play around with it a bit, and I might even use it for something serious down the road. But for now, I thought I'd poke some fun at the fact that I'm pretty sure my family members make up the majority of my "readership." Which is fine, but help me out and get me above 10 results. Vote twice if you have to--I probably will!

If You Have a Brain in Your Head

2008-07-23T22:38:00.005-04:00

If there is one thing I'm truly afraid of, it's being home alone. I had a bizarre incident in college involving a teenage runaway named Sherice that I promise I'll share on here someday. But even before Sherice, I hated being alone. So this past weekend while P was white-water rafting in West Virginia, I decided it was time to be an adult and stay at home all weekend by myself. In the end, it went well, but it involved me spending a lot of time watching infomercials at 4 in the morning. And let me tell you, the later it is, the worse the infomercials are.

Early in the night, the infomercials seem to feature items that are at least plausible. A multi-tool titanium rod that easily switches from a mop-head to a screwdriver to a rake? Sure, I would use that. An eco-friendly 100-piece set of imitation Tupperware that comes with a special waterproof rack so you can wash them while you shower? Makes sense, come to think of it. But at 4 a.m., the doozies come out. Ladies and gents, let me introduce you to the Pos T Vac!

In case you don't have much of an imagination, the Pos T Vac features a line of male enhancement vacuum therapy products geared toward the older crowd. The testimonials were perfection. A group of buddies out on the golf course, all candidly discussing their use of the Boss 2000. A couple walking along the beach talking about how the MVP 700 saved their marriage.

Then, following along the infomercial format, a price point was splashed all over the screen (which I honestly can't remember, but really, are you going to let price come between you and the Boss). Then the freebie was featured--a handy, yet discreet, carrying case. Finally, the commercial closed with the hard sell. This is where it gets good.

A middle-aged, aggressive looking man barked at the camera, "If you have a brain in your head, buy this product now!" This is a sales tactic I've never seen before and quite frankly, it's brilliant. The only pre-requisite is having a brain. I imagine that before long, the other infomercials will take notice and start using similar directives:

"If you live on planet earth, buy this product now!"

"If food is a regular part of your diet, buy this product now!"

"If you have fingers on your hands, pick up the phone and buy this product now!"

My prediction? Pos T Vac will be bigger than Miss Cleo.

A Dozen Roses and a Broke Down Truck

2008-07-21T00:19:00.002-04:00

On my way to the movies yesterday afternoon, I happened upon a thirty-something year old man carrying a huge bouquet of assorted roses. Normal, if we were in the city. Not so normal since we were on country road outside of Columbus.

I was headed north, and there he was, headed south at a brisk pace. Sweating profusely and carrying only the flowers. He held them up against his chest, as if to protect them from the wind of the passing cars. He looked determined, to say the least.

After an initial chuckle, I thought--seriously, where is this guy coming from? The closest place to purchase flowers was perhaps a mile up the road at a supermarket. And, in the other direction, there was nothing around for miles. Hmm.

I crested a small hill and saw a black pick-up pulled off to the side of the road. There was no flat tire, no accident damage, no sticker indicating the truck had been inspected by the police or highway patrol. Nope, the truck belonged to the flower man--it just had to. My guess? He ran out of gas and ditched the truck to get the flowers where they needed to be. Which meant carrying a bouquet of flowers down a road with a posted speed limit of 55 in the 90-degree heat. What would make a person do such a thing? He totally cheated, I'm telling you.

And next time, screw the movie, I'm turning around to ask.

RIP Bob Barciz

2008-07-15T00:21:00.002-04:00

What seems like only a short while ago, the most important thing in my life was playing basketball. And during my eighth grade year at St. Thomas Aquinas on the east side of Toledo, the most important thing about basketball was beating the girls down the road from St. Stephen's. We were huge rivals in the world of girls CYO basketball and at the time, it was pretty intense. So naturally, it came as a huge blow to lose to them in what would be our last tournament meeting. To make things worse, their win sent us to the loser's bracket.

In the fourth quarter of the toilet bowl championship, the girls from St. Stephen's, lead by their grey-haired coach, marched across the court during a time-out and gathered around the end of our bench. We were miffed. Were they here to taunt us? Warm up early for the real championship game? Run us out of the building. Nope. Nothing could have been more shocking than to realize they had come to cheer for us. After all, we were playing a team from the OTHER side of town. This served as my first official lesson that east-siders stick together.

As we took the floor, a chant started behind us: East. Side. Pride! East. Side. Pride! The gym filled with chanting and clapping. Pretty soon our fans stood up to join them, and the other team was finished. I actually, honest to God, remember noticing how pleased their coach was by what had happened. And that's how I came to meet Coach Bob Barciz.

Soon after, Coach Barciz put together a summer league called the East Side All-Stars (were you expecting a different name?) and he asked me to be on the team. It would mean playing with girls from different schools around the area, but mostly girls from St. Stephen's. It was meant to serve as the starting point for the girls that would attend Cardinal Stritch High School together and soon be on the same team anyway. Plus, it was easy to see that old Coach Barciz loved the game of basketball, and he loved his players. I jumped at the chance, eager to see what I could learn from this new coach.

As it turned out, Coach Barciz was not just passing us along to the high school. He stuck around for the next four years and, at different times, served as freshman coach, summer league coach, scout and personal life coach. During summer league ball before my senior year, a girl from the opposing team slammed into me and I completely blew my knee out. No chance for recovery before the season started.

Obviously, Division 5 high schools aren't a college scouter's paradise for finding potential talent, but I had a few Division 3 and even Division 2 colleges interested. I had never dreamed of playing for a big-time school, I had never dreamed of being the best player out there--I just loved to play. With my injury, however, my chances of playing college basketball were pretty slim and I was deflated. Few people understood how my world had been turned upside-down. But Coach Barciz, who wasn't even technically my coach anymore, reached out and offered a helping hand.

He called me everyday immediately after my injury. (After awhile, he scaled it back to once a week.) He stayed after games to talk to me when I decided to forgo surgery and play with a brace. He showed up at my house to visit after I gave in and finally had surgery in December. And the next summer, exactly one year to the date of my injury, the phone rang and I heard his scratchy voice telling me he was going to pick me up in his big boat of a car to take me out for ice cream.

In his obituary today, they called us his basketball sons and daughters. I caught him on the tail-end of his coaching days, so I imagine there are hundreds, if not thousands, of young people Coach Barciz helped in a similar fashion. I think about all he did and how much of himself he gave to others for so many years. Giving up Saturdays to be at the gym, staying up late at night to draw up a new play, and waiting time after time until the last parent came to pick up their child. Seeking out the child who needed encouragement, standing up for the child who needed support and uniting two rival teams so the high school experience would be far more productive and enjoyable.

It's a wonder that I'm just now realizing that Coach Barciz was teaching us life skills as well as basketball. How to be leaders, to be civic-minded, to invest heavily in your community and the people in it, to look at time as your companion, not your enemy. To love those people around you, not those things around you. And that a simple trip for ice cream can change a person forever.

RIP Coach Barciz. You will be missed.

Safety Officer Goes for a Zip

2008-07-01T22:03:00.014-04:00

Most people who know me understand that I most definitely do not have a daredevil personality. P, however, is always finding new things for us to get into. Whitewater rafting, cliff jumping, emergency surgery in a foreign country--he's not afraid of much. Which is fine, except that he tries to get me to participate in these activities with him. It never ends well (I slipped down a hill trying to rope swing and got thrown from a whitewater rafting boat) but he keeps trying, God love him.

This past Saturday I showed him an article I read about a new zip line in Hocking Hills. I was suggesting it as an activity for him and his buddies, but five minutes later he had us booked for a Sunday tour. Smart kid, that P. Didn't give me long enough to back out. So Sunday afternoon we packed up and headed down to the Hocking Hills Canopy Tours. Much to my surprise, I had an awesome time. Me, the Safety Officer, had a great time zipping between treestands 60 feet in the air, for 3 hours with no emergency exit. In fact, I can't wait to do it again. Here are some pictures of our tour. Let me know what you think:

Here we are before walking across the bridge to the first zipline. I have that look on my face that says "He's really going to make me do this. Crap." Really, it's behind the smile. And under the hardhat.

This is one of the swinging bridges we had to cross. Surprisingly, it's one of the things that scared me the most. I thought I would have trouble with the actual ziplining, but it was the heights that got to me. After crossing this bridge, I hugged the tree while taking long deep breaths--I was actually nauseous.

This is me coming in for a landing and actually having fun!

Youins. Is it in Your Dictionary?

2008-06-25T21:28:00.002-04:00

I heard a new word tonight. Notice I used the word "heard" not "learned." I don't plan on ever using the word, but I thought I'd share it with you: youins. As in "Are youins gonna be there at 6:00?" or "I'm counting on youins."

Now, the first time I heard the word, I thought I heard wrong or it was a slip of the tongue. But then it was used a second, third and fourth time. There's no mistaking it. Someone out there uses the word "youins" on purpose. You've been warned.

Summertime Brings Out the Crazies

2008-06-23T20:03:00.011-04:00

Driving to work this morning, I passed a hitchhiker. And not just a normal hitchhiker, if there is such a thing. No, this guy was on a bike with his sleep mat rolled up and strapped behind his seat, with a sign attached that read "Need Ride, Just Honk."

Wait, wait, wait.

Hitchhikers are now giving directions and offering suggestions? And as the driver, I'm expected to not only give rides, but load bikes? And what kind of greedy hitchhiker solicites car rides while riding a bike? A hitchhiker with a bike is better off than like 99% of all hitchhikers out there. (*Not an official statistic, just a guess. But I think it's a really good guess.)

Then, at lunchtime, I was driving back to work and almost hit a guy swerving his bike back and forth in the middle of several lanes of traffic. Sound like a middle schooler enjoying his summer break? Nope, just a 50-something year old man wearing a red polyester track suit trying to operate what looked like a just-stolen middle schooler's bike.

Thank goodness I didn't see anything crazy on my way home from work. Unless you count the wild-haired guy who held the door for me at Speedway. I said thanks and he answered me with a grunt. An actual, guttural grunt. (And to think I was just getting ready to compliment the do-it-yourself tattoo on his left bicep.) But he kind of saved the day for me at checkout. As the lady rang up his 6-pack of Busch Light (bottles), she asked,

"That it?"

And he grunted in one of the lowest voices I've ever heard, "Nah. I got gas."

Well, my friend, if you don't already, you will tomorrow after those Busch Lights.

VHS Update: Because I Know You Care

2008-06-21T18:33:00.002-04:00

I ran across a few more movies to add to my list: The Princess Bride, When Harry Met Sally, Stand By Me, Labyrinth and if you're P, the Ernest movies. I think his favorite is Ernest Goes to Camp. It's hard to argue with that pick.

In related movie news, our local Blockbuster was having a huge sale on previously viewed DVDs. I picked up four movies for $20: Waitress, Superbad, the aforementioned When Harry Met Sally and Evening. I also got Thank You for Smoking for $3.99. I've never seen the last two, but I bought them so I didn't have to buy Porky's or some random Stone Cold Steve Austin movie.

Also, we saw two good movies this week that I would recommend to anyone who likes thrillers. Shooter with Mark "The funkiest of the bunch" Walhberg and Untraceable starring Diane Lane. Both good flicks if you're looking for a quality rental.

Be Kind, Please Rewind

2008-06-16T00:19:00.003-04:00

Maybe it's because we're old-fashioned. Maybe it's because we're just not that into technology. Or maybe it's because we're "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" type of people. Whatever the reason, we still own and use a VCR.

It's actually a little 19-inch TV/VCR combo that I bought for my college dorm room. I got it at Value City for around $80 and my mom DID NOT want me to waste my money on it. Because #1, it was from Value City (if you don't know me, take with you this one thing: I heart the VC) and #2, it was a combo unit which, according to something she read, break easily.

Well, here I am 10 years later and five years into marriage, and that thing still sits on my dresser. Sometimes I long for a cute flat screen with a sleek DVD player. The picture would be better and we'd have twice as much space for more of my junk piles on the dresser. The one thing that holds us back? Laying in bed at night and watching some of our favorite movies that just happen to be on VHS tapes.

I know, I know. We could easily replace all of them with DVDs. But I am currently not that organized and I'm guessing that I won't be anytime soon. So we end up watching a lot of our favorites that we'd probably forget about otherwise. I'm talking about movies like Back to the Future, The Goonies, Maverick, Top Gun (I didn't put those next to each other on purpose, I swear), The Last of the Mohicans and friggin' Memphis Belle.

We've spent the last few nights watching Back to the Future and I'm amazed by how much that movie rocks. It's so original and creative, I just can't get over it. The flux capacitor, 1.21 gigawatts, and "Get your damn hands off her." Not to mention the fabulous performances from Michael J. Fox, Crispin Glover and Christopher Lloyd. And to think, with a DVD player in our bedroom, Back to the Future might have been lost to us except for the occasional showing on TBS.

So I think we're all set on the technology front for now. Or until the TV/VCR combo breaks, just like my mom said it would.

P.S. Value City, I knew you wouldn't let me down.

Bidder #105

2008-06-07T23:18:00.006-04:00

P and I have a never-ending quest to find new and different forms of local entertainment. Our most recent venture is a weekly auction held about 20 minutes away in a small farm town. Each week the inventory rotates between consignment and new furniture. We've gone a few times and picked up some nice things. For example, P spent $40 on a Hoover Wind Tunnel canister vacuum cleaner that normally retails for $260. We picked up a brand new bookshelf tonight for $12.

Not bad, but the real entertainment comes from less popular items that end up at auction. The following is a list of my favorite auction items we've seen:

10: An extremely rusted pocketknife with a picture of Elvis

9: Boris and Natasha Halloween Costumes (In a set, of course, except that halfway through they ran out of Natasha costumes and just sold Boris alone, which was weird)

8: Homemade clown dolls (I almost didn't add these to the list because they're still too scary to think about)

7: Neon colored q-tips

6: Doorknob alarms (battery-powered globes that cats, dogs or the slightest breeze could set off)

5: Ceiling tile (seriously, and in massive amounts)

4: Weed wacker wire (no weed wackers on hand, just the wire)

3: Deep fryer with a malfunctioned lid that wouldn't close (add $5 for the splatter screen you'll have to buy)

2: Set of hair nets

1: Rechargeable power drill that only works with European outlets (use it for 20 minutes, throw it away)

Even if you don't buy anything, it makes for an entertaining evening. If you're tired of movie night, try an auction. You could become the next proud owner of a rusted Elvis pocketknife. Fingers crossed...

Remember the Pink Garden Set?

2008-05-28T09:38:00.001-04:00

Just passed it on the steps going upstairs. Yup, haven't used it.

Lessons From the Farm Market

2008-05-21T21:13:00.011-04:00

Gas prices continue to soar, food inflation is the highest it's been in two decades and perfectly good homes are sitting empty. I imagine crime will increase dramatically before too long. And all we can do is wait.

As I do about once a week, I stopped at one of our local farm markets yesterday to pick up some fresh veggies (and okay, some chocolate chip cookies). The same guy works the counter almost every time I stop and we've gotten to know one another a bit. I had heard through the small town grapevine that a farm market down the street (a dominant competitor) wouldn't be opening this year. So I asked the guy if it was true and if he thought it would beef up his business. His response was "I don't ever want to see bad times fall upon anyone."

I'm such a softie that I bought an extra pound of bologna I didn't need.

Times are going to get tough. I've already started saving some extra pennies just in case. And I think most people are doing the same--re-evaluating needs and wants, and pulling the things most important to them closer. Maybe even creating a barricade around themselves. But not this guy. He's still thinking beyond himself. And that's nice to know.

I Know Him Through Drinking...and Bowling

2008-05-13T23:59:00.014-04:00

Here's the deal--I love eavesdropping. Not in a manipulative way, just in an observant way. Like standing in line at the grocery store or sitting across from a group of people at a restaurant. I've picked up some great lines just listening to people interact with others. It seems that when I'm by myself, I hear the best stuff. It's as if since I'm alone and not talking, I also don't have the ability to listen. Oh, but I do. I really have to start writing this stuff down, but here are a few of my favorites from recent memory:

"She failed her drug test. Again." (In line at the local Wal-Mart.)
"You don't want to marry her. She's crazy. Just keep her around to feel her fake boobs." (Except "boobs" was really another word I can't bring myself to type.)
"I'll have everything...and jalapenos." (Overheard at a Quizno's. I don't know why, but this line cracks me up. Big boy REALLY wanted to get those jalapenos.)
"You know that guy? I owe him like $60 bucks! I know him through drinking...and bowling." (So you know him through drinking and more drinking?)

That is all for now. I'll keep my ears open for some more gems to share. You do the same and post any good ones below!

WWYD?

2008-05-07T23:33:00.003-04:00

I let Bailey out last night for her bedtime bathroom break and noticed that my neighbors across the street a few doors down left their garage door open. Otherwise, the house looked completely buttoned-up, no lights on or anything. This same thing happened about three weeks ago to my next-door neighbor. We know them a little better, it was about 11:30 and it was a weekend, so I knocked on their front door to let them know. Our neighbor thanked me and was happy because he did, in fact, forget to close it.

However, the people across the street I don't know so well. They also have a young child and a newborn. Worth waking the entire house up at almost midnight? What do you think? I would definitely want someone to knock on our door, but some people might not feel the same way.

Weighed down by my do-gooder ways...

Men, Women, Marketing and the Color Pink

2008-05-07T17:52:00.004-04:00

One of my favorite activities is reading the Sunday paper. I like catching up on the news, cutting coupons and browsing the advertising circulars. When I see something I like or need, I set that particular circular aside in a separate pile. This past weekend my pile consisted of a 20% Bed, Bath and Beyond coupon, a page from the Lowe's circular featuring outdoor patio furniture and the Aldi's flyer. (I guess this week I didn't come across anything I needed.)

As part of my lunch break today, my gracious co-worker made a stop at Aldi's so I could pick up a 5-piece garden tool set advertised in the above-mentioned Aldi's flyer. The set was only $13.50 and I like the idea of all my gardening tools being stored together. So instead of searching my garage for the trowel, then the pruner, then the cultivator, I can just hunt for one bag. Hopefully, this will cut down my total search time from 15 minutes to 5 minutes. See how I'm organizing my disorganization? Clever, huh?

My co-worker and I arrived at Aldi's and after a quick search, spotted the set. There was only one left! I can't tell you how much this delighted me. Seriously, that giddiness carried me through the rest of the afternoon. Did I mention that the set is pink? Pink little tools in a pink little bag. It's as if Elle Woods designed it herself. It's also sponsored by the National Breast Cancer Foundation, which makes it even more appealing.

Arriving back at work, one of our male co-workers pulled into the lot at the same time we did. He asked us what we did for lunch and because my giddiness was still impairing my judgement, I happily announced "I bought THIS!" as I held up my kit. He looked at the kit, then looked back at me and said "That is stupid."

He then listed all the reasons he thought it was stupid:

It looked cheap.
One of the pieces would probably break the first time I used it.
The pruners don't look sharp enough to cut paper.
I won't actually use it.
It's pink.

Which I get. I really do. He's a guy and doesn't care about whether or not his tools are green, blue or lined with diamonds. Do they work? Check. Can the tools be easily located when needed? Check. But it got me thinking. How could I have been so excited about something that another person looked at once and without skipping a beat, deemed a worthless piece of garbage?

My friends, it's called men, women and marketing. Which means I'm either a sucker, a supporter or just another female surrounded by emotional marketing targeted my way each and every day. I'm not saying it's a bad thing; it is what it is. Would I have made a special trip to Aldi's if this bag wasn't totally cute and sponsored by a breast cancer foundation? Or if it was brown instead of pink? Yikes. Honestly, the answer is probably not. Until now it didn't occur to me that the quality isn't top-notch (but it was only $13 and I'm happy with the quality vs. the cost) and the company doesn't disclose the amount they donate to the breast cancer foundation. It just says "a portion of all proceeds." It could be a penny and I would have no idea.

My husband doesn't look at the ads in the Sunday paper, and he certainly wouldn't run out and buy something because it's pink. My co-worker only goes shopping out of necessity, like when he blows out an elbow in one of his dress shirts. (For those interested, I believe the 2008 count is 3. Dude, get those elbows in CHECK.) However, I'm proud to say I have a male marketing example to share with you as well.

Last night at the local Blockbuster, P practically knocked me over scooting up to me to tell me he had the best idea for what we should rent. Are you ready? Indiana Jones. He was very excited about his idea--like really excited. I thought--fine, whatever, I'll probably cut coupons while you have it on. We were walking to the check-out counter when I finally noticed the HUGE Indiana Jones display in the middle of the store. Posters, Indy hats, glasses and the movies were everywhere. I'd walked past it 3-4 times and hadn't taken notice. It wasn't meant for me, but it worked. My husband rented one of the movies in the trilogy (don't ask me which, I don't care) and also realized a new Indy movie is coming out this summer (he lives under a rock).

So here we are. Me with my pink garden set, P with his Indiana Jones movie and my male co-worker with three elbowless dress shirts. No damage done, just very interesting. In case you're interested, here's a picture of the garden set:

As a final note, I wanted to give a random shout-out to the Cleveland Browns. I googled the National Breast Cancer Foundation and browsed their website. The fabulous Cleveland Browns are the only NFL team listed as a Corporate Sponsor. Actually, they are the only sports team of any type listed as a Corporate Sponsor. And before you haters conjecture, the NBCF is based in Texas, not Cleveland or anywhere else in Ohio, so it's not a local deal. Which, in my opinion, makes it even more awesome. I work in partner marketing and sponsorships, and know how hard it is to take the leap of being the first to sign up for something like that. Cleveland Browns, I salute you with my new pink trowel.

4-Day Weekend...Working

2008-05-06T22:59:00.003-04:00

I really wanted to make an effort to never discuss work on this blog. However, my work occupied all of my time last Thursday through Sunday. It wasn't horrible, just long and the type of tiring that one doesn't fully realize until the job is completely over. Which is good, I think. It's amazing to be part of a large group working toward the same common goal. It's not amazing, however, when one person clearly doesn't see the same benefits of this type of working environment.

That aside, I ran into an old college friend I hadn't seen in about 7 years. Crazy. Other pluses include not spending any money for four days, getting to know some of my co-workers better and spending a few nights in a really nice hotel (one of them with P)! Time for a mini-vacation though. Thinking about a camping weekend in a few weeks. It has to be somewhere in a 3-4 hour radius of C-bus. Thoughts?

In other news, I want a scooter. $3.64 a gallon? Are you kidding me?

Are You in the Woods? You Should Be...

2008-04-22T22:53:00.009-04:00

After March Madness, there's Morel Madness. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you're like me 7 years ago when P first mentioned "mushroom hunting." My family had certainly never hunted mushrooms--we bought them in cartons from Kroger. And at Kroger, if for some reason you can't find the mushrooms, you can just ask the 17 year-old stock kid to point you in the right direction. In the woods, it's like looking for a needle in a haystack. And that's what makes it so much fun--that and the fact that they only grow for about a month during the year in Ohio.

There is definitely skill involved--they grow around certain trees, on banks that face a certain direction, etc. I've learned that a good mushroom hunter doesn't wander around aimlessly in the woods. And being that tonight was a "school night" P and I didn't waste any time--we went straight to our patches and this is what we found:

A beautiful grey sponge, don't you think?

Here's another grey just peeking through the leaves and growth. See why they're hard to spot?

This is a black sponge and also my first mushroom of the year! I would love to say I saw it from afar, but really, I almost stepped on it.

Since mushrooms usually grow in patches, you always hunt in a circle around your initial find. I found these two black sponges to the left of the mushroom in the last picture. Can you find both of them?

Two-fer! These are two horsetails that P found. I have no idea how he saw these!

This was our bucket at the end of the night. We were only there for about an hour, so we were pretty proud of our haul. (Also because the season is still early and we were on public land.)

That pride lasted until we bumped into the mushroom hunting experts--P's dad and uncle. This is his dad's bucket only. Geesh. That's a haul for a weeknight!

These are the mushrooms after they were cooked using cornmeal and salt. Delicious! Imagine only being able to eat one of your favorite foods once a year. Tonight was a great night.

Oh, and after the eating, Perry checked me for ticks. And not in the Brad Paisley type of way--in the real "I probably have ticks on me" type of way. I did--two, actually. Hot tip--always wear a baseball cap in the woods--something I forgot tonight. Eww--those little things got all up in my hair. Off to shower!

My Dentist is a Comedian

2008-04-22T22:23:00.007-04:00

Seriously, I heard this one from my dentist during my check-up last week and thought I'd share it along with some new pictures.

Question: What kind of flower do you have on your face?

Answer: Tulips, of course.

I Have a Heckler, I Have Collateral

2008-04-15T19:22:00.003-04:00

Normally I would be kind of excited to have a heckler. It would mean that someone was emotionally interested enough to leave a post, even a nasty one. However, in this case, I'm not excited because my heckler is just my lame coworker. And let me tell you how lame he is: he stayed at work late to leave comments on my blog.

This collateral I speak of? Yes, it's straight-up blackmail. But I've been saving it for a REALLY long time, keeping it tucked away at someone's request. I'm kind of getting bored with my layout and a new PICTURE would spice things up a bit, don't you think?

Keep it up, buddy!

Mama's Gotta Brand New MAC!

2008-04-13T19:35:00.003-04:00

P and I just got a previously owned eMAC courtesy of his parents--and I love it! The last time I used a Mac was in college when I worked for the school newspaper. I really loved all the features and the ease of use. For the past few months, I've been saving my pennies to buy a Mac Book, but at $1,200 I never pulled the trigger. Especially since I wanted a Mac mostly for its picture and video editing capabilities.

So now I have a Mac and I'll be able to do all sorts of fun things--as soon as I teach myself how to use the software! Coming soon: awesomeness.

One More Month

2008-04-10T20:53:00.005-04:00

We've been getting Overton's magazines in the mail double-time lately. Naturally, I've been looking at all the fun stuff we can buy for this summer. My pick? The Cabana Islander, a party raft for 6 people that includes a floating cooler and swim platform. It also features a canopy, which makes it fun and practical. (As I've mentioned before, the sun and I don't get along. On a bad day, I can get a burn walking from my car to the front door. Ok, not really, but close.)

So what do you think of the CI:

I also dug up a short video of P barefooting. It's with my crappy camera, but it's still a cool video.

MILF Island: Why am I Not Watching 30 Rock?

2008-04-10T20:42:00.002-04:00

Since I'm such a fan, or just a huge loser, I turned on the TV a half an hour early tonight in anticipation of the new The Office episode. So at 8:30 I landed on 30 Rock, which I've never watched before. The first thing I see? A mock reality show called "MILF Island." Hilarious. This could be a new favorite.

A Moment of Silence

2008-04-07T18:50:00.003-04:00

It all started in 1996 when my parents bought a brand new Toyota Corolla, their first foreign-made car. It was quite a purchase considering the GMC conversion van and Pontiac stationwagon already sitting in our driveway. My parents had heard good things about Toyotas and decided to take the chance on a type of car we'd never had before.

We only had it a short time before my mom was hit by a public transit bus while making a left-hand turn onto the highway. The bus ran a red light and slammed into the Corolla on the left side, totalling the car. My mom, miraculously, walked away with a broken pinky finger. My dad, loyally, said he would always buy Toyotas because he was so impressed with how the Corolla took the impact of the bus and protected my mom. True to his word, they bought a 1997 Corolla to replace the totalled one and have since purchased two additional Toyotas.

About a year before I got married, my parents officially sold me the Corolla. I think it had about 80,000 miles on it. I buzzed around in that little car EVERYWHERE. P and I got married, and pretty soon the car had about 150,000 miles on it. But since it ran so great and we had it paid off, it didn't make sense to trade it in or buy a new car. We decided to keep it until it just quit running or needed a repair that was so expensive it wouldn't make sense to fix. So it ran and ran and ran. We were able to buy the boat because we had the Corolla.

About a month ago, at 248,000 miles, it was having brake problems and we thought "Ok, this is it. This is the end of the Corolla." But after inspection, all it needed was new front brakes and rotors. Which we could do for about $300 with P's uncle helping him. Since it was still running great and never gave us any major problems, it was an easy decision to repair it. 300,000 miles was in sight.

But Friday afternoon, the old Corolla was introduced to a Dodge Ram van from the backside. And as most meetings from the backside usually go, it was not a pleasant one. P was in the car when the van slammed into him and forced the Corolla into an SUV in front of him. He was monkey in the middle and the car took it bad. But P, like my mom, walked away with minor injuries. (Although I don't remember my mom finagling a sympathy trip to BW3 for wings.) Once again, the Toyota did a great job of protecting its passenger. And for that, I'm super thankful. Although I'm quite sure the Corolla is sitting in the body shop missing us like crazy.

So we've been sitting here tonight shopping online for cars. Our options? Another Corolla or an upgrade to the Camry. We've been tempted by Ford's recent Swap My Ride commercials, and Mazda's never ending Zoom-Zoom media blitz. But for us, it's come down to this: two totalled cars, two protected passengers. Now that's great marketing.

The "Blizzard" of '08

2008-03-31T21:42:00.006-04:00

About three weeks ago, a huge snowstorm hit central Ohio. While never technically a blizzard, local weather reporters were beside themselves reporting on the "Blizzard of 2008." How many snow plows does the city have? Where was the mayor when the snow hit? How deep in the snow will one reporter have to stand to get that anchor job?

We turned off the TV most of the weekend (save watching The People Under the Stairs, a movie I'd never seen and now am totally creeped out by) and visited with family and friends. Here are a few photos from the weekend:

This is a very pretty creek we visit often in the summertime. It's beautiful on a summer day and I couldn't resist seeing what it looked like covered in snow--even more beautiful!

Same creek, different direction.

This is just an example of what the roads looked like. It doesn't look too bad here, but the snow drifts were pretty significant.

I just added this one because I think it's cute and it was taken as the blizzard was starting. So technically it's a Blizzard of '08 picture. Bailey seems to be asking "Can I go outside one more time? Pleeeeaaaaassseee!" That's right. I'm a dog whisperer.

Just Playing...

2008-03-31T20:50:00.003-04:00

So this video was taken with my old camera and looks like it was filmed in the 1960's. But I'm having some issues with my new camera and I really wanted to test a video post. Nobody reads this damn blog anyway and I didn't think my mom and dad would mind having to see a video they've probably already seen. Hi Mom and Dad, and maybe Jenny!

It's P running the slalom course last year down in Dale Hollow. Not too shabby...maybe this year I'll try to slalom. Or maybe I'll just ski on two for a minute and a half, then call it a day.

Don't Get Caught Watching the Paint Dry

2008-03-29T12:30:00.004-04:00

So this post is about a week late, but since March Madness only happens once a year I had to post it anyway. The headline above is a quote from my most favorite movie of all time: Hoosiers. And since it's March Madness time, I have the opportunity to catch Hoosiers on TV more often than any other time of the year. I laugh, I cry, I recoil at one of the worst kisses in movie history: Gene Hackman and Barbara Hershey locked in an emotionless and cold embrace.

The quote comes from Dennis Hopper when he is forced to take over the team after Gene Hackman gets himself thrown out of the game. He delivers the line in a way that shows the viewer his confidence is back, he's having fun and he just might be able to beat his alcoholism and re-establish his lost relationship with his son. Really, you can tell all that from one line and it makes me tear up every time.

Anyway, if anyone actually reads this blog, what's your favorite movie line and why?

This one's for J-Shaef

2008-03-29T12:27:00.001-04:00

Thanks for keeping me on my toes. By yelling at me. At work. No, really, I actually do appreciate it.

Maybe.

Everyone Here is Extremely Gruntled

2008-03-04T22:35:00.002-05:00

The Office is back April 10 with brand new episodes!

John Cusack Must Have Needed the Cash

2008-03-04T19:59:00.004-05:00

Our new thing is watching movies. It's an activity that gives us something to do while we wait for the weather to turn. We get home from work, buy or make dinner, then settle in to watch a flick or two. Tonight, P rented the movie 1408 with John Cusack. It's not even over as I write this, but I have to say I have no idea how the powers that be got John Cusack to be in this movie. Really, it's not horrible, just below John Cusack for as long as he's been in the business.

Ok, it just ended and P rated it. Since he's into fishing, we'll make a movie rating out of fishes. P gave it 4 out of 10 fishes. Which is probably the equivalent to a medium-sized carp. Fun at first, but stinky in the end.

And there you have it.

All Four Seasons

2008-02-27T21:46:00.004-05:00

It was 70-some degrees in Orlando yesterday and I was there enjoying the weather. And the flowers, the grass, and the sunshine. Last night as the landing gear on the plane was lowering, I was looking at the snow covering the Ohio ground. I am so happy to be back home, but wow, it was nice to enjoy sunny weather for a few days in February. Several times I found myself staring at the grass, almost in amazement. Is it crazy to miss grass?

In Ohio, when the fall leaves (get it?), everything is barren. No green grass, no colorful flowers, no leaves on the trees. Nothing. The Ohio wintertime color palette is white and brown. A little bit of blue if we're lucky.

I was in Orlando on a business trip. I'm sure people in Orlando have been sent to Ohio for business in February. I'm guessing they left wondering who would choose to live in this type of climate. P and I have talked about moving at some point to a nicer climate. We dream about how nice it would be--having access to outdoor activities year-round (and not having to bundle up with 15 pounds of gear), enjoying cool evenings on the back porch (because wherever we live we'll have a back porch) and loving the sights, sounds and smells of summertime year-round.

But unless there's a job transfer, we'll never leave. Why? Because Ohio is home. Because there is nothing better than seeing the seasons change, experiencing each one. Summer days so hot all we want to do is anchor the boat in a good swimming hole. Fall nights full of high school football, old friends and dried leaves crunching under our feet. Winters spent tucked inside, warm by the fireplace watching the snow sparkle outside. And springtime, noticing the trees starting to bud and the perennials peeking through the ground. I smile just thinking about it.

It's hard, but it's almost over. And as every Ohioan should know by now, you can't enjoy the cool and calm of spring unless you lived through the snow.

3:10 to Yuma: Pick Me Russell Crowe--I Have Green Eyes--Pick Me!

2008-02-23T10:13:00.004-05:00

3:10 to Yuma is a movie I wanted to see when it first came out, but it didn't seem to stay in the theaters long so I never made it a point to check it out. My parents rented it and recommended it, so we rented it earlier this week and loved it. I'm actually shocked it wasn't nominated for more awards--especially Ben Foster for his supporting role.

So if you like westerns, Russell Crowe, Christian Bale, a father-son dynamic, gun-fighting, a creepily delightful Ben Foster or are just looking for a good movie, check out 3:10 to Yuma!

At the Car Wash...

2008-02-22T13:45:00.002-05:00

There's something I find extremely relaxing about getting my car washed. I don't know if it's the colored foam soap (the child in me is still very much alive), the solitude of it all, or the fact that something is being cleaned and all I have to do is make sure my car is in neutral. I take my car through the wash every few weeks, especially after bad weather.

Well, Tuesday brought bad weather, so Wednesday found me at the car wash. I made my wash selection and pulled in through the garage door. The door lowered behind me as the machine started soaping up my car. Just as the soap covered each window, the machine came to a grinding halt. I waited for it to power back up, but I got nothing. I flipped on my wipers to see if I could identify a problem. What I saw was the front garage door raising, indicating that my wash was over and it was time for me to exit.

By the time I got my car in gear and my foot off the brake, the door was coming back down. I was stuck in the car wash. Trapped. My car covered in soap. Freezing cold.

My college didn't offer a course in random building escape, but since I'm a pretty sharp gal I tried backing up to get as close as possible to the entry garage door to see if I could trigger a sensor to open it. I tried the same with the front garage door. Then, because I guess I'm not such a smartie after all, I called my husband.

"Hey babe," he said.

"You have to come get me," I said.

"Why? What happened? Where are you? Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm at the car wash. Nay, I'm actually stuck inside the car wash." (Ok, so I didn't say the word "nay" at all in this conversation. But I thought it added to the story so I embellished. I don't even think I used it correctly.)

"What do you mean you're stuck inside the car wash?" he asked.

I became agitated.

"I mean I'm stuck inside the friggin' car wash. Both garage doors are closed and they won't open. There's soap all over my car and I'm trapped and I need you to come up here so you can call the number on the outside of the building!"

Yes, I knew there was a number posted on the outside of the building. I told you, I go to this car wash a lot. And I also told you that I'm a sharp gal. So perhaps I should have already noticed at this point that there was a door--a human door, if you will--in the middle of the building. So I unbuckled my seat belt (safety first, especially at a car wash where the car sits stationary) and stepped out of the car. I tried the door and it opened. I walked around to the front, called the number and explained to the gentleman on the other end that I was stuck inside of his car wash. He said he'd be there in a jiffy.

After sitting with P for a bit inside his warm car, the gentleman arrived, handed me $10 and sprung me from the car wash. Then he paid for me to go through again to get the soap off my car and offered to pay for my next visit. I had already tried to refuse the first $10 several times because I really wasn't mad. The car wash is a machine. Machines break down. People fix them. It wasn't his fault. But it did get me thinking. The more he offered me, the more I refused. He provided me with good customer service and that's all I wanted. Most times, however, the less companies assume responsibility, the angrier I become. Just own up to it--that's all I'm asking.

Now, most people probably would have accepted his offers, but I was just happy he was trying to make it right. Heck, I was just happy the guy who owned the place lived down the street instead of in Florida. I guess all I'm saying is that if he would have shown up with a passive-aggressive attitude and said things like "Are you sure you pushed the right buttons?" or "Did you pull up to the right spot?" I would have been fired up. But he was cool, so I was cool, and we both left happy. P was happy too because the rest of the night he kept randomly cracking up and saying "I can't believe you got stuck in the car wash."