After a tiny hiatus (nope no exaggerations here!)I am picking up my electronic quill again. Did you miss me? Ahem. I remember my debate coach admonishing me to never ask a question I didn't know the answer to. I suppose asking either of my loyal readers if they missed me after a year long absence might fall in that category.
Well here is middle America life is chugging along. Hubs is off defending freedom and teaching 4th century time travelers what democracy means and why it would be a good thing, so I am left to keep the home front running smoothly.
Please try to keep the audible gasps to a minimum. Believe it or not I actually have numerous skills and a temperament well suited to this sort of thing. Like what? Well, for example I know how to hide chocolate in places even a bloodhound can't find to have for emergencies. I am a highly trained domestic engineer. Well, ok, I have a bunch of them on speed dial in my iPhone. Yes! There is an app for that!
You know us "supermoms" can home-school, keep house, and send weekly care packages without even breaking a sweat! How? Well mostly we fake it. I've found that if you bluff hard enough for long enough sometimes it actually works. Of course sometimes you end up crying in the bathroom because your stamp wasn't straight and you ate the last Circus Peanut last night! That's the thing about being left behind during a deployment. You can be "fine" and so opposite of fine you might be treading on the coattails of completely freaking insane in the space of two heart beats. One minute you are brave and steady and the next you are sniffling over some stupid Hallmark commercial.
I get that our military has a vital function in preserving world stability. But couldn't we just send over a copy of the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and a few of the federalist papers, and maybe an iPhone with the "create your own stable government" app? Isn't that enough?
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Friday, February 24, 2012
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Spring Cleaning Help
This is the package I just got from being a BzzAgent. It includes a coupon booklet, a Glade Spring Sensations candle, a lemon Pledge, Scrubbing Bubbles shower cleaner, Glade plug in air freshener, Scrubbing Bubbles toilet gel, and an idea book.
Anybody who knows me, knows how much help I need in the cleaning department. Now that I have tried all the products, here is what I think: I loved the candle. It is fresh with a hint of lime and reminds of margaritas. Spring in a jar, really. Until it warms up here in the Midwest, and I can open the windows, I will be using this candle a lot.
The toilet cleaning gel I have mixed feelings about. I really like the scent, fresh and clean and not over powering, but it didn't seem to do a whole lot. If you start with a clean toilet it does extend by a couple days the amount of time until you need to clean again, but I guess I had hoped for more. It is more of a preventative product.
The lemon Pledge is always a staple in my cleaning bucket. I think the lemony scent just smells fresh. It makes all my wood furniture shine and I have noticed that it remains shiny longer than other dusting products.
The Glade air freshener was awesome because first off, I liked the scent, and second it fitted into the other brand holder I already had on hand. One small warning though. I noticed that the holder tends to get very warm. I'm not sure I would want to leave it plugged in if I was going to be gone for a vacation or such. But, honestly, our bathrooms need all the freshening help they can get and this sucker works great. Very long lasting and it's a plug it in and forget it, so you don't have to worry about changing batteries or lighting anything.
I am a big fan of the Scrubbing Bubbles automatic shower cleaner. For those of us who need extra help, it really helps maintain a basic level of clean. That said, it isn't a perfect clean. You still have to get into the nooks and crannies and scrub. This foaming cleaner was great at that. It cut down on the elbow grease needed and had a pleasant scent. Used with the automatic cleaner it makes keeping sparkling clean showers a snap.
Disclaimer: I was sent all of the above products free to try and review.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Don't Sweat the Small Stuff
Good advice, really. But why is so hard to tell, what is small stuff, sometimes? I mean, does it matter in the long term if the kids insist on wearing crazy clothes...not immoral or immodest, just goofy looking? Will the Earth stop spinning on its axis if dinner is late, or taken from the freezer and contains enough preservatives to keep it fresh until Judgment day?
Sure we all have minimum standards in life to meet, but when we, or our kids, fall short, why do we get so worked up?
Not that I have ever over-reacted. Ahem. I'm sort of waiting to be struck down for that whopper. In my own defense, I think it is genetic. There are quite a few panic-ers in my family tree. OK, so I am a panic first, laugh about it later sort of person. While I was still in the Air Force I had the great fortune of listening to a speech by a general. Sadly his name escapes me, but his message really struck home.
He said, "You can only throw yourself in front of one train. So pick your train wisely." Brilliant. As adults we have learned that people who cry wolf over every tiny thing seldom get paid much attention over anything. So if you find a cause worth fighting for, fight to the last, but let the little stuff go. "Pick your train" has become our family mantra.
This why there is a mountain of laundry that is taller than me in by the machine. But I'm OK with it. This is not a disaster. Now to just convince Hubby that underwear is over-rated...
Sure we all have minimum standards in life to meet, but when we, or our kids, fall short, why do we get so worked up?
Not that I have ever over-reacted. Ahem. I'm sort of waiting to be struck down for that whopper. In my own defense, I think it is genetic. There are quite a few panic-ers in my family tree. OK, so I am a panic first, laugh about it later sort of person. While I was still in the Air Force I had the great fortune of listening to a speech by a general. Sadly his name escapes me, but his message really struck home.
He said, "You can only throw yourself in front of one train. So pick your train wisely." Brilliant. As adults we have learned that people who cry wolf over every tiny thing seldom get paid much attention over anything. So if you find a cause worth fighting for, fight to the last, but let the little stuff go. "Pick your train" has become our family mantra.
This why there is a mountain of laundry that is taller than me in by the machine. But I'm OK with it. This is not a disaster. Now to just convince Hubby that underwear is over-rated...
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
When I'm Wrong...
I'm REALLY wrong. You may remember back a while when I disclosed how my first practice dance party went. Basically it was about as much fun as prepping for a colonoscopy. (With the same effect on my intestines.) OKAY. that was bad, even for me.
The point I'm making, in an ever so tasteless way, was that it was uncomfortable, embarrassing, and I felt like a moron. However, in a very un-Nancylike way, I stuck with it. And three months later things have changed a bit. Ok, so I still don't want to Macarena (line dancing is like rodeo-ing without a horse!) but other than that I have to confess I have gotten to the point where it is totally growing on me. Not in a nasty fungus way either. I mean I really adore it.
I love the challenge of learning new and more complicated steps. I like how much more confidant I feel. Oh, and one more thing...I really am getting into the dress code! I mean who wouldn't want an excuse to buy several scrumptious gowns?
We went out on our "Starlight" event which is basically where you are paired with an instructor and then a limo ride (and champagne!) later you arrive at a swanky restaurant where you wine, dine, and dance the night away. Plus you do it as part of a group so it eliminates the awkward issue.
And yes, it was a bit strange to be dancing all night with someone other than my husband. Not really something I ever imagined would come from dance lessons. But there is a method to the madness. See, first of all, the instructor knows what dance to do to each song and then helps you get over the nervousness and helps you remember all the things you have learned, and maybe teach a few new things just for fun. Sort of like having a safety net; it's the ballroom equivalent to training wheels. It really helped make it just plain fun without any stress. I'm sure nobody else stresses over dancing, especially with a spouse, but let's face it, people like me stress about everything, ESPECIALLY public things.
Like any new thing, there have been ups and downs,but on the whole, dancing has added an exciting new dimension to our lives. Oh, and the upside to not sitting home watching TV every night? I am half way to my diet goal.
The point I'm making, in an ever so tasteless way, was that it was uncomfortable, embarrassing, and I felt like a moron. However, in a very un-Nancylike way, I stuck with it. And three months later things have changed a bit. Ok, so I still don't want to Macarena (line dancing is like rodeo-ing without a horse!) but other than that I have to confess I have gotten to the point where it is totally growing on me. Not in a nasty fungus way either. I mean I really adore it.
I love the challenge of learning new and more complicated steps. I like how much more confidant I feel. Oh, and one more thing...I really am getting into the dress code! I mean who wouldn't want an excuse to buy several scrumptious gowns?
We went out on our "Starlight" event which is basically where you are paired with an instructor and then a limo ride (and champagne!) later you arrive at a swanky restaurant where you wine, dine, and dance the night away. Plus you do it as part of a group so it eliminates the awkward issue.
And yes, it was a bit strange to be dancing all night with someone other than my husband. Not really something I ever imagined would come from dance lessons. But there is a method to the madness. See, first of all, the instructor knows what dance to do to each song and then helps you get over the nervousness and helps you remember all the things you have learned, and maybe teach a few new things just for fun. Sort of like having a safety net; it's the ballroom equivalent to training wheels. It really helped make it just plain fun without any stress. I'm sure nobody else stresses over dancing, especially with a spouse, but let's face it, people like me stress about everything, ESPECIALLY public things.
Like any new thing, there have been ups and downs,but on the whole, dancing has added an exciting new dimension to our lives. Oh, and the upside to not sitting home watching TV every night? I am half way to my diet goal.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Membership Perks
I love getting free stuff in the mail. There is something about opening a free sample that is like getting a mini-present. There is that moment of anticipation, that moment when you imagine all the possibilities. Will it be a new shampoo, the latest toilet bowl cleaner? A chocolate cake? (Yes! That has happened!)It is like that scene in Christmas Story when the father thinks about all the things his "major award" could be.
This is why I am a member of several marketing groups. Basically these groups send you samples of products which they want you to use and then write up an honest appraisal. They hope that you will like the products and buy them and that you will tell friends so they can do the same. I do not belong to any group that charges any sort of fee to participate. I have three groups that I really enjoy.
The first is Vocalpoint. This is a Proctor and Gamble deal. So you will be trying assorted P&G brand items. I have found them to be very generous. They typically send full size products along with very high dollar coupons. If you are interested you can learn more here.
The second group is Bzzagent. This is more of an independent group which is contacted by various manufacturers to spread the word about various new items. I have tried everything from cold medicine to cleaning products to make up. Learn more here.
The last company I like is Pinecone research. This is a bit different. This company is mostly survey based. They pay you $3 for every survey you complete. They pay promptly. You won't get rich but it is easy money. Often when you finish a survey they ask if you would be willing to try the product you just answered questions about. I have gotten to try new flavored coffee, sports water, skin care items, dairy products, and others. Since they ask a follow up survey after you try the item you are being paid $6 to try a new product. It is a fun way to try before you buy. Plus you may get asked to participate in further "focus groups" which can pay up to $50 per time. I think of this as my manicure money. You can find out if they are accepting new members here.
There are plenty of scam companies out there but I have found these to be honest and reliable, and they don't send unsolicited junk mail or sell your info to other companies. Again, they NEVER charge a fee to try anything, nor do they make you pay anything to join. I would be highly suspicious of any company that did require money from you. You are doing them a service--not vice versa.
This is why I am a member of several marketing groups. Basically these groups send you samples of products which they want you to use and then write up an honest appraisal. They hope that you will like the products and buy them and that you will tell friends so they can do the same. I do not belong to any group that charges any sort of fee to participate. I have three groups that I really enjoy.
The first is Vocalpoint. This is a Proctor and Gamble deal. So you will be trying assorted P&G brand items. I have found them to be very generous. They typically send full size products along with very high dollar coupons. If you are interested you can learn more here.
The second group is Bzzagent. This is more of an independent group which is contacted by various manufacturers to spread the word about various new items. I have tried everything from cold medicine to cleaning products to make up. Learn more here.
The last company I like is Pinecone research. This is a bit different. This company is mostly survey based. They pay you $3 for every survey you complete. They pay promptly. You won't get rich but it is easy money. Often when you finish a survey they ask if you would be willing to try the product you just answered questions about. I have gotten to try new flavored coffee, sports water, skin care items, dairy products, and others. Since they ask a follow up survey after you try the item you are being paid $6 to try a new product. It is a fun way to try before you buy. Plus you may get asked to participate in further "focus groups" which can pay up to $50 per time. I think of this as my manicure money. You can find out if they are accepting new members here.
There are plenty of scam companies out there but I have found these to be honest and reliable, and they don't send unsolicited junk mail or sell your info to other companies. Again, they NEVER charge a fee to try anything, nor do they make you pay anything to join. I would be highly suspicious of any company that did require money from you. You are doing them a service--not vice versa.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Kid-tainment
Lately, the kids have been full of quirky sayings. No, I am not referring to things like "Bieber-mania" or the lyrics to the Latest Taylor Swift song. I have come to the realization that those things are inevitable and best ignored like soap scum and wrinkles in cotton. Sooner or later they disappear.
My younger one commented that her feet were fetid after cheer leading practice. She is right, they certainly were! The older one then remarked that perhaps they even smelled worse than road kill. The younger one then grabbed her foot and took a long and thorough second wiff. "Yep. They smell like dead skunks!" At which point they both dissolved into giggles. Ah youth, the time in life when bodily odors are immensely entertaining.
The older one has taken to being quite outspoken in her disgust with any and all public displays of affection. Her father has merely to reach for my hand before the sighs and groans from the back seat commence. I remember this stage well. The thought of my parents engaging in any sort of affection was enough to gag me. I remember thinking "surely they were too old for that?" So I just grin when she starts huffing and puffing in the back and lay on the sugar a bit. It will be many years before she appreciates a marriage that contains such things fifteen years after vows are exchanged.
This same kid currently wants to become a pediatrician some day. As she studies anatomy she is fascinated. Doubtless she would make an excellent doctor, if a bit squeamish one. She panics at the first sign of a bug and refuses to look at anything that even resembles a bug no matter how many times it is magnified. The moldy Tupperware in her lunch bag disturbs her not in the least.
Ahhh, kids. Sometimes I wonder if they are actually alien infiltrators coming here to learn the customs and blend in. Tell me that wouldn't explain a lot!
My younger one commented that her feet were fetid after cheer leading practice. She is right, they certainly were! The older one then remarked that perhaps they even smelled worse than road kill. The younger one then grabbed her foot and took a long and thorough second wiff. "Yep. They smell like dead skunks!" At which point they both dissolved into giggles. Ah youth, the time in life when bodily odors are immensely entertaining.
The older one has taken to being quite outspoken in her disgust with any and all public displays of affection. Her father has merely to reach for my hand before the sighs and groans from the back seat commence. I remember this stage well. The thought of my parents engaging in any sort of affection was enough to gag me. I remember thinking "surely they were too old for that?" So I just grin when she starts huffing and puffing in the back and lay on the sugar a bit. It will be many years before she appreciates a marriage that contains such things fifteen years after vows are exchanged.
This same kid currently wants to become a pediatrician some day. As she studies anatomy she is fascinated. Doubtless she would make an excellent doctor, if a bit squeamish one. She panics at the first sign of a bug and refuses to look at anything that even resembles a bug no matter how many times it is magnified. The moldy Tupperware in her lunch bag disturbs her not in the least.
Ahhh, kids. Sometimes I wonder if they are actually alien infiltrators coming here to learn the customs and blend in. Tell me that wouldn't explain a lot!
Thursday, February 17, 2011
The Best Things In Life
Hubs made a comment today about how everything in life was bad at least according to this blog.
Au contraire! But the little part that is bad does seem to be funnier than the vast majority that is good, eh? I mean who wants to read about how the cake recipe I invented was heavenly and how I treated myself to a spa day, or that in spite of our (OK-MY) phobias, dancing is coming along nicely. I mean cue the Disney music and watch the cat break into a dance with the neighborhood squirrels, right? Who wants to read that the kids did school with no fussing and I had time to scrub the house and finish all the "honey-do" jobs?
Well, sure, Hubs would like to read that because it would be such a HUGE FREAKIN' CHANGE!
The whole truth is that I have it very, very good. Hubs usually keeps his Prince Charming uniform in the closet (because I don't iron probably)but even without it, it doesn't take long to know that he is in fact our hero. Not just for the big stuff like totally undeserved luxury gifts, paying all bills, and supporting us so well. Sure he does all that. But that is just the tip of the iceberg. He is amazing in so many small ways too. Like the fact that he likes taking the kids to the park to fly kites or hike or just chase them on the playground. He taught them to fish and ride bikes, and takes them on every ride at the amusement parks, even the ones he hates. He makes late night runs for emergency provisions. (Chocolate.) He got me dance lessons and goes with me! He rushes home to get rid of dead mice and assorted icky things. He volunteers to coach teams. He attends all sporting events. He reads all 700 drafts of my book and always says nice things.
He puts up with me.
He says "I love you."
He doesn't fuss about the budget when we have a bad day and dinner isn't ready and we eat out. He laughs at my jokes. He is in fact my very best friend.
So as far as what's right in my life, Honey, I'd say it all stems from you.
Au contraire! But the little part that is bad does seem to be funnier than the vast majority that is good, eh? I mean who wants to read about how the cake recipe I invented was heavenly and how I treated myself to a spa day, or that in spite of our (OK-MY) phobias, dancing is coming along nicely. I mean cue the Disney music and watch the cat break into a dance with the neighborhood squirrels, right? Who wants to read that the kids did school with no fussing and I had time to scrub the house and finish all the "honey-do" jobs?
Well, sure, Hubs would like to read that because it would be such a HUGE FREAKIN' CHANGE!
The whole truth is that I have it very, very good. Hubs usually keeps his Prince Charming uniform in the closet (because I don't iron probably)but even without it, it doesn't take long to know that he is in fact our hero. Not just for the big stuff like totally undeserved luxury gifts, paying all bills, and supporting us so well. Sure he does all that. But that is just the tip of the iceberg. He is amazing in so many small ways too. Like the fact that he likes taking the kids to the park to fly kites or hike or just chase them on the playground. He taught them to fish and ride bikes, and takes them on every ride at the amusement parks, even the ones he hates. He makes late night runs for emergency provisions. (Chocolate.) He got me dance lessons and goes with me! He rushes home to get rid of dead mice and assorted icky things. He volunteers to coach teams. He attends all sporting events. He reads all 700 drafts of my book and always says nice things.
He puts up with me.
He says "I love you."
He doesn't fuss about the budget when we have a bad day and dinner isn't ready and we eat out. He laughs at my jokes. He is in fact my very best friend.
So as far as what's right in my life, Honey, I'd say it all stems from you.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Did you ever.....?
Did you ever have a fight with someone that seemed critically important and absolutely asinine at the same exact moment? Maybe it's just me, it certainly wouldn't be the first time I was shorted a few neurons.
It all started innocently enough. Doesn't all trouble start that way? Is it too much to ask the all Trouble come properly labeled? I mean, look, cigarettes warn you that smoking them will cause everything bad to happen to you, but people light up every day. Surely Trouble would stay in business just fine, even "in this slow economy" but at least we'd see it coming.
I digress. Oh yeah, see we were cleaning up the office which was the last main depository of miscellaneous crapola mixed with certain critical documents thus requiring us to hand sift the debris-- page by bloody page. Tedious would have been an improvement. But we were in spitting distance of done when for some reason we started to bicker. What was an almost playful tussle became an all out, no holds barred, go for the guts war. Of course this is a figurative description. No actual maiming took place except of course to feelings and pride.
When the battle was over and bodies were strewn in every direction all I could think was, did I win?
And if I did win, did I win?
Because no way in Hades am I gonna apologize unless I'm at least mostly sure that I won.
Ha! I bet you thought this was gonna be some sunny kiss and make up and everything is all better post, eh?
Don't you know me better than that yet?
It all started innocently enough. Doesn't all trouble start that way? Is it too much to ask the all Trouble come properly labeled? I mean, look, cigarettes warn you that smoking them will cause everything bad to happen to you, but people light up every day. Surely Trouble would stay in business just fine, even "in this slow economy" but at least we'd see it coming.
I digress. Oh yeah, see we were cleaning up the office which was the last main depository of miscellaneous crapola mixed with certain critical documents thus requiring us to hand sift the debris-- page by bloody page. Tedious would have been an improvement. But we were in spitting distance of done when for some reason we started to bicker. What was an almost playful tussle became an all out, no holds barred, go for the guts war. Of course this is a figurative description. No actual maiming took place except of course to feelings and pride.
When the battle was over and bodies were strewn in every direction all I could think was, did I win?
And if I did win, did I win?
Because no way in Hades am I gonna apologize unless I'm at least mostly sure that I won.
Ha! I bet you thought this was gonna be some sunny kiss and make up and everything is all better post, eh?
Don't you know me better than that yet?
A Fresh Start
What is it about Jan 1st that makes us want to make all sort of rash promises? We rush to say we will kick all bad habits, lose weight, be better people and so on. Of course quite a few of these promises are made under the influence of certain intoxicating beverages which might explain the whole phenomenon.
Or does it? What is it about the start of a new year that makes us want to change everything?
Maybe it is simply the excuse we need to take stock in our lives and change the direction if we don't like where we are headed. So what things are on your hit list? Lose weight tops the charts for a lot of people. It goes hand in hand with eat better and exercise more. Whatever the current vogue definition of "eat better" entails. Remember the grapefruit diet?
Quit smoking is also a favorite.
For me, this year I would like to make an effort to do things well. That is to be picky enough not to take on so many projects that nothing gets done until the last minute when a haphazard rush is all that there is time for. I want to say no more, so that when I say yes, I really mean it.
Not that my kids would agree, but saying "no" is not easy for me. I have a natural inclination to want to do everything. Which translates into doing a lot of nothing because I am so overwhelmed.
It also means that I found myself in all manner of stupid dangerous places in college. It also means I constantly settle for things that aren't right because I can't speak up and say things aren't right. This led to a disastrous hair-don't on my wedding (call me crazy but I had dreamed of being a princess, NOT mafia princess straight out of the Corleone family!!!!)
How can you be assertive without getting the teeth knocked out of your head? It is a fine line to walk to stand up for yourself without alienating every person you come into contact with. I confess I am so scared of confrontation I live by the tip big, smile, and hope for the best rule. When that doesn't work I resort to "whine and complain to Hubby, no tip, and never go back" plan. Which is fine if you are dealing with something that has replacements. Not a huge help in a one restaurant-one beauty shop-one doctor shop town.
To be fair, I was looking for an excuse to not go back to the doctor. I mean really, who wants to be grocery shoppingand bump carts with someone only to realize that person has been up close and personal with parts that usually require wedding rings...(or at least dinner and a movie!) to gain access to. I mean I doubt even Ms. Manners knows what to say in such circumstances. I didn't know whether I wanted to be recognized or not!
Anyway, this year, aside from shopping in a different grocery store than my gynecologist, I want to learn how to be assertive. In a polite way.
Or does it? What is it about the start of a new year that makes us want to change everything?
Maybe it is simply the excuse we need to take stock in our lives and change the direction if we don't like where we are headed. So what things are on your hit list? Lose weight tops the charts for a lot of people. It goes hand in hand with eat better and exercise more. Whatever the current vogue definition of "eat better" entails. Remember the grapefruit diet?
Quit smoking is also a favorite.
For me, this year I would like to make an effort to do things well. That is to be picky enough not to take on so many projects that nothing gets done until the last minute when a haphazard rush is all that there is time for. I want to say no more, so that when I say yes, I really mean it.
Not that my kids would agree, but saying "no" is not easy for me. I have a natural inclination to want to do everything. Which translates into doing a lot of nothing because I am so overwhelmed.
It also means that I found myself in all manner of stupid dangerous places in college. It also means I constantly settle for things that aren't right because I can't speak up and say things aren't right. This led to a disastrous hair-don't on my wedding (call me crazy but I had dreamed of being a princess, NOT mafia princess straight out of the Corleone family!!!!)
How can you be assertive without getting the teeth knocked out of your head? It is a fine line to walk to stand up for yourself without alienating every person you come into contact with. I confess I am so scared of confrontation I live by the tip big, smile, and hope for the best rule. When that doesn't work I resort to "whine and complain to Hubby, no tip, and never go back" plan. Which is fine if you are dealing with something that has replacements. Not a huge help in a one restaurant-one beauty shop-one doctor shop town.
To be fair, I was looking for an excuse to not go back to the doctor. I mean really, who wants to be grocery shoppingand bump carts with someone only to realize that person has been up close and personal with parts that usually require wedding rings...(or at least dinner and a movie!) to gain access to. I mean I doubt even Ms. Manners knows what to say in such circumstances. I didn't know whether I wanted to be recognized or not!
Anyway, this year, aside from shopping in a different grocery store than my gynecologist, I want to learn how to be assertive. In a polite way.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
How a Dream Becomes a Nightmare
In spite of the bacteria's best efforts we all made it onto the ship and sailed on the "Maiden Voyage" of the Disney Dream.
It would have been better if we had been too sick to board.
This is not a thought that should ever occur to me but it is true. If we had been denied boarding, the insurance policy would have kicked in and we would have received a refund. At the time I would have been devastated, but in hind sight, it would have been best. You see, the voyage pretty much failed to meet every expectation we had.
This was not our first Disney cruise, but our 5th. Prior to this one, every cruise has been perfectly magical. In fact easily the best vacations we've ever had and the main reason we bought into the Disney Vacation Club. So it is fair to say we had high expectations for this cruise. Or course, knowing the ship is new. we expected some glitches, but we never dreamed it would be what it was.
I had envisioned champagne bottle breaking on hull, and perhaps some celebrity special performances. Apparently this is not what "maiden voyage" means. I found out it means "any one of a series of cruises that cost way more and provide way less." Go figure.
Oh, more more key thing it means: CALLING ALL COLLECTOR NUT BALLS!!!!
The freaks were out in force. Oh, not your average friendly freaks-you know-my people- but people who will steal brass plates out of an elevator, walk off with dinner plates in their handbags, and spend most of their vacation standing in line to buy junk they plan on selling on Ebay. These people would mow over small kids to get a pin they don't even want to keep. The ship of Dreams, all right. Dreaming of feeding those people to the sharks!
Aside from poorly trained staff and minor ship malfunctions, there are two things that were actually pretty funny. That is, they will be funny to other people. Not so much to us at the time. The first is that we went into the very fancy spa and laid around in the hot tubs, steam rooms and showers. Or we would have if the hot tubs hadn't been broken. I tried the tropical thunderstorm shower. The lights flashed. Birds squawked, thunder rumbled and tropical flowers seemed to be blooming in the air. It was very realistic. Then the water came on in a FREEZING COLD TORRENT right onto my head. I bet they heard my indignant shrieks three decks lower. Whatever was wrong with the hot tubs was also wrong with the showers.
The other thing involved room service. One of the many perks to a cruise vacation is 24hr complimentary room service. A very nice touch if you don't want to get up early, or want to enjoy breakfast on your balcony, or whatever. I, however, was hard pressed to remember all those lovely details when we got a 6am wake up call informing us room service was on the way--this on the one sleep in day!
We had not ordered any room service.
I am not at my best when I am tired. Or according to hubs I may, or may not, bear a superficial similarity to Attila The Hun. Hmmm. There is a titch of truth there.
Anyway, we very grumpily went back to bed cursing crossed phone lines, only to have a crew member start pounding on the door at 6:30 delivering the meal we hadn't ordered and then had attempted to cancel. A+ for persistence, guys! F--- for the ability to catch up on much needed sleep!
Of course it wasn't all bad, there was even "some good." All I can say, is that in a year, the ship will be spectacular. I just wish we had waited. Sometimes the early bird doesn't get the worm; sometimes the early bird learns a costly lesson.
It would have been better if we had been too sick to board.
This is not a thought that should ever occur to me but it is true. If we had been denied boarding, the insurance policy would have kicked in and we would have received a refund. At the time I would have been devastated, but in hind sight, it would have been best. You see, the voyage pretty much failed to meet every expectation we had.
This was not our first Disney cruise, but our 5th. Prior to this one, every cruise has been perfectly magical. In fact easily the best vacations we've ever had and the main reason we bought into the Disney Vacation Club. So it is fair to say we had high expectations for this cruise. Or course, knowing the ship is new. we expected some glitches, but we never dreamed it would be what it was.
I had envisioned champagne bottle breaking on hull, and perhaps some celebrity special performances. Apparently this is not what "maiden voyage" means. I found out it means "any one of a series of cruises that cost way more and provide way less." Go figure.
Oh, more more key thing it means: CALLING ALL COLLECTOR NUT BALLS!!!!
The freaks were out in force. Oh, not your average friendly freaks-you know-my people- but people who will steal brass plates out of an elevator, walk off with dinner plates in their handbags, and spend most of their vacation standing in line to buy junk they plan on selling on Ebay. These people would mow over small kids to get a pin they don't even want to keep. The ship of Dreams, all right. Dreaming of feeding those people to the sharks!
Aside from poorly trained staff and minor ship malfunctions, there are two things that were actually pretty funny. That is, they will be funny to other people. Not so much to us at the time. The first is that we went into the very fancy spa and laid around in the hot tubs, steam rooms and showers. Or we would have if the hot tubs hadn't been broken. I tried the tropical thunderstorm shower. The lights flashed. Birds squawked, thunder rumbled and tropical flowers seemed to be blooming in the air. It was very realistic. Then the water came on in a FREEZING COLD TORRENT right onto my head. I bet they heard my indignant shrieks three decks lower. Whatever was wrong with the hot tubs was also wrong with the showers.
The other thing involved room service. One of the many perks to a cruise vacation is 24hr complimentary room service. A very nice touch if you don't want to get up early, or want to enjoy breakfast on your balcony, or whatever. I, however, was hard pressed to remember all those lovely details when we got a 6am wake up call informing us room service was on the way--this on the one sleep in day!
We had not ordered any room service.
I am not at my best when I am tired. Or according to hubs I may, or may not, bear a superficial similarity to Attila The Hun. Hmmm. There is a titch of truth there.
Anyway, we very grumpily went back to bed cursing crossed phone lines, only to have a crew member start pounding on the door at 6:30 delivering the meal we hadn't ordered and then had attempted to cancel. A+ for persistence, guys! F--- for the ability to catch up on much needed sleep!
Of course it wasn't all bad, there was even "some good." All I can say, is that in a year, the ship will be spectacular. I just wish we had waited. Sometimes the early bird doesn't get the worm; sometimes the early bird learns a costly lesson.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
The Ship of Dreams
We just got home from spending a week in Orlando. We spent 4 days covering Sea World and Universal Studios and then boarded the new Disney Ship Dream.
Funny story about that. My last post was about how crazy I was trying to keep us all from getting sick.
It didn't work.
The motel we stayed at in Orlando was a no-frills place. Perfectly adequate for crashing at night after an exhausting day trekking around theme parks, but not a lot of bells and whistles. We knew this when we booked it, so we were happy with it. It included a bare bones continental breakfast which even saved a bit of cash. The pool was closed but given unseasonably cold weather we didn't care. It did however have one HUGE bonus we didn't expect.
It was next door to a hospital.
So at least when we had to take a kid to the ER we didn't have to call a cab. I was terrified that we would not be allowed on board the ship if kids were hacking up lungs as they had the same upper respiratory bronchitis crap that Hubs had. Luckily, thanks to the miracle of Zithromax he had recovered nicely. (Not before he spewed germs on the rest of us...but that's another post.) I knew if she and I were sick it was only a matter of time before D1 came down with it as well. Sadly, now that antibiotics are harder to get than most street drugs, no doctor will give you a prescription for a healthy kid even when you KNOW that in four days they won't be healthy. The day when you will be on a ship in the middle of the FREAKIN' OCEAN FAR FROM THE DOCTOR YOU WANT TO KICK IN THE SHINS!
It was time for desperate measures. I told D2 that when the doctor asked if she could swallow pills she was--under penalty of no desserts on the ship--to say she couldn't. I hoped there would be enough liquid left over for the other kid.
Yeah, I KNOW you're not supposed to do that. But honestly, with an entire vacation on the line? Sharing antibiotics wasn't gonna cost me much sleep in the guilt department.
Apparently they have learned that trick in the ghetto hospital because there was enough for her 5 doses and not one blessed drop more. I mean, for heaven's sake, we're talking an antibiotic here, not crack! It's not like I was going to lick the bottle! Sure I was planning on cheating, but still! The nerve!
Don't judge me. We had been planning this cruise for THREE YEARS and there was no way a sinus infection was going to stop us.
Stay tuned for the next post: Why I wish we had skipped the ER after all...
Funny story about that. My last post was about how crazy I was trying to keep us all from getting sick.
It didn't work.
The motel we stayed at in Orlando was a no-frills place. Perfectly adequate for crashing at night after an exhausting day trekking around theme parks, but not a lot of bells and whistles. We knew this when we booked it, so we were happy with it. It included a bare bones continental breakfast which even saved a bit of cash. The pool was closed but given unseasonably cold weather we didn't care. It did however have one HUGE bonus we didn't expect.
It was next door to a hospital.
So at least when we had to take a kid to the ER we didn't have to call a cab. I was terrified that we would not be allowed on board the ship if kids were hacking up lungs as they had the same upper respiratory bronchitis crap that Hubs had. Luckily, thanks to the miracle of Zithromax he had recovered nicely. (Not before he spewed germs on the rest of us...but that's another post.) I knew if she and I were sick it was only a matter of time before D1 came down with it as well. Sadly, now that antibiotics are harder to get than most street drugs, no doctor will give you a prescription for a healthy kid even when you KNOW that in four days they won't be healthy. The day when you will be on a ship in the middle of the FREAKIN' OCEAN FAR FROM THE DOCTOR YOU WANT TO KICK IN THE SHINS!
It was time for desperate measures. I told D2 that when the doctor asked if she could swallow pills she was--under penalty of no desserts on the ship--to say she couldn't. I hoped there would be enough liquid left over for the other kid.
Yeah, I KNOW you're not supposed to do that. But honestly, with an entire vacation on the line? Sharing antibiotics wasn't gonna cost me much sleep in the guilt department.
Apparently they have learned that trick in the ghetto hospital because there was enough for her 5 doses and not one blessed drop more. I mean, for heaven's sake, we're talking an antibiotic here, not crack! It's not like I was going to lick the bottle! Sure I was planning on cheating, but still! The nerve!
Don't judge me. We had been planning this cruise for THREE YEARS and there was no way a sinus infection was going to stop us.
Stay tuned for the next post: Why I wish we had skipped the ER after all...
Thursday, January 20, 2011
A day in the Life of a Germ-A-Phobe
Back in the day, yes, WAAAAAAAY back then, I enjoyed learning about microbiology. It was utterly captivating in the same way that a car accident involving multiple gory injuries is. You desperetly want a glimpse at the same time you are terrified of what you might actually see. I loved learning about all the tiny little specks too small to see that were powerful enough to decimate entire populations or make yogurt depending on thier whims. I loved doing the project where we went around campus and cultured places to see what we could grow.
Yummy.
FYI- it turned out to be more hygienic to lick the toilet than to touch either the door knob or the phone. YES! Cell phones are a good thing. At least you just put your own germs on your face...
Where was I going?
Oh right, now I remember. At the time I went through a brief period where I was obsessed with all things growing and didn't want to touch anything. Shaking hands was enough to make me break out in a cold sweat. The thought of touching raw chicken would make me heave. It was a great, if short lived, diet. Eventually I got over it and went back to ignoring the microscopic world rather than seeing it as an army planning covert ops at every second.
Once I had kids, my terror of germs evaporated due to sheer necessity. Instead of boiling everything I learned that mom-spit was naturally anti-bacterial, and the five second rule applied to any surface including public restrooms on occasion. OK, that was a bit gross. The point is that we all survived, sure D1 had permanent hearing damage from repeat ear infections but that was probably due to day care rather than the fact that I may have occasionally licked her pacifier to clean it off. Probably.
Now, we are pretty middle of the road. We wash our hands and use hand sanitizer whenever encountering plague in the form of McDonald's Play places, but we pretty much leave the obsessing to the neat-niks.
Except this week.
The week before a family vacation I have reverted to full scale battle readiness. We have gone through so many gallons of hand sanitizer none of the kids have skin left on their hands. I have wiped all the paint off the knobs with Lysol wipes and we look like chemo patients when we go out, to the few things we couldn't skip, since I have made everybody wear masks.
Hey! You can't be too careful. It is January! In a winter climate! People are constantly testing our reflexes and spewing vicious germs by the lung full whenever we turn around. I am determined that we will go on this trip and be healthy.
One way or another.
If that means bringing scuba gear for the plane, so be it. When you see a family breathing through snorkels on the plane be sure and wave. Don't bother trying to shake our hands, though, you might have a cold.
Yummy.
FYI- it turned out to be more hygienic to lick the toilet than to touch either the door knob or the phone. YES! Cell phones are a good thing. At least you just put your own germs on your face...
Where was I going?
Oh right, now I remember. At the time I went through a brief period where I was obsessed with all things growing and didn't want to touch anything. Shaking hands was enough to make me break out in a cold sweat. The thought of touching raw chicken would make me heave. It was a great, if short lived, diet. Eventually I got over it and went back to ignoring the microscopic world rather than seeing it as an army planning covert ops at every second.
Once I had kids, my terror of germs evaporated due to sheer necessity. Instead of boiling everything I learned that mom-spit was naturally anti-bacterial, and the five second rule applied to any surface including public restrooms on occasion. OK, that was a bit gross. The point is that we all survived, sure D1 had permanent hearing damage from repeat ear infections but that was probably due to day care rather than the fact that I may have occasionally licked her pacifier to clean it off. Probably.
Now, we are pretty middle of the road. We wash our hands and use hand sanitizer whenever encountering plague in the form of McDonald's Play places, but we pretty much leave the obsessing to the neat-niks.
Except this week.
The week before a family vacation I have reverted to full scale battle readiness. We have gone through so many gallons of hand sanitizer none of the kids have skin left on their hands. I have wiped all the paint off the knobs with Lysol wipes and we look like chemo patients when we go out, to the few things we couldn't skip, since I have made everybody wear masks.
Hey! You can't be too careful. It is January! In a winter climate! People are constantly testing our reflexes and spewing vicious germs by the lung full whenever we turn around. I am determined that we will go on this trip and be healthy.
One way or another.
If that means bringing scuba gear for the plane, so be it. When you see a family breathing through snorkels on the plane be sure and wave. Don't bother trying to shake our hands, though, you might have a cold.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Fred and Ginger
In case you haven't heard, Hubs gave me a bunch of ballroom dance lessons for Christmas. This is something I was delighted over, as I have wanted to learn how to REALLY dance for, well, for ever really.
Until I learned that our fab package included "practice dances."
Oh goody.
I immediately had post traumatic flashbacks to high school dances. So not a time I want to relive. I would rather forget high school ever existed, in fact. definitely NOT the glory days, for me. Being a painfully shy , incredibly awkward kid just smart enough to realize how geeky she was, was so not the high point of life. In fact a few decades and several cross country moves later, the wisdom of experience lets me know I probably over-estimated how horrible it was. Time heals, blah, blah. Mostly. Somewhat.
So can you blame me for thinking up excuses to the first several "practice" parties? I mean I didn't go to my own prom, why on earth would I want to start now?
Yeah, I know what you are thinking...then why take dance lessons? See, I am the type of person who wants to be elegant and graceful but in reality is the type who can break a leg standing still in a parking lot. Yeah, the one who clearly was standing in the popcorn line when God passed out grace. But, I figured, once I mastered the basics, IF I master the basics, I would love to be able to dance...someday. You now, the day that comes right after the 12th of probably never. But it is fun and good exercise so I was perfectly happy in PRIVATE lessons.
The dance was so far beyond my comfort level there isn't even a scale that high. Get all dressed up in formal attire and then learn a dance with a whole group of strangers, all of whom clearly have been dancing for years. Plus due to Hubs never being on time for anything, arrive late and miss the first set of instructions. Oh, and be pushed into the advanced group since the beginner class was full. Nope, no room for disaster here. Being spread-eagled on a delivery table naked with your junk wide open for a room full of medical students to watch another guy reach into your pelvis up to his elbow was less embarrassing. At least having a baby doesn't require heels that cripple you. Plus you can usually score drugs.
Much like high school, at least for us geeks, a "practice party" must be done sober.
After suffering through most of the lesson I finally quit since there was as much chance of mastering the Viennese waltz in 30 minutes as there was of my playing professional football. As a linebacker. So I quietly ducked out and wished for Scotty to please beam me up!
Alas, once the lesson portion was over they opened up the floor to actual dancing. Almost immediately Hubs was snagged by some lady and off they whirled. Fred, unlike me, does not suffer from performance anxiety. He is perfectly at home in situations like this. Of course the only thing worse than getting asked to dance is NOT getting asked, so as I was weighing the odds of stepping out and spending the rest of the night doing something very mature like hiding in the car, my instructor Isaac stepped up and asked me to dance. I politely declined and explained with a grin that my instructor hadn't shown me this dance yet. To which he grinned and held out his hand. "Right, that's what I'm going to do." Oh crap! My "I don't know this dance" excuse wouldn't work on my instructor! Now what to do???
While I was wondering whether to fake appendicitis or actually break a leg, I forgot to panic and as usual he was so calm and easy going, that before I knew it he had me doing the Cha-cha. Sort of.
Despite one utterly humiliating dance with the visiting instructor when he begged me to quit trying and just walk backward, the night ended on a mostly positive note. I only had two smashed toes, and my pride had only been battered to a pulp, probably not a terminal injury, so all in all, I can't wait to do it again.
When you know where freezes, that is!
Until I learned that our fab package included "practice dances."
Oh goody.
I immediately had post traumatic flashbacks to high school dances. So not a time I want to relive. I would rather forget high school ever existed, in fact. definitely NOT the glory days, for me. Being a painfully shy , incredibly awkward kid just smart enough to realize how geeky she was, was so not the high point of life. In fact a few decades and several cross country moves later, the wisdom of experience lets me know I probably over-estimated how horrible it was. Time heals, blah, blah. Mostly. Somewhat.
So can you blame me for thinking up excuses to the first several "practice" parties? I mean I didn't go to my own prom, why on earth would I want to start now?
Yeah, I know what you are thinking...then why take dance lessons? See, I am the type of person who wants to be elegant and graceful but in reality is the type who can break a leg standing still in a parking lot. Yeah, the one who clearly was standing in the popcorn line when God passed out grace. But, I figured, once I mastered the basics, IF I master the basics, I would love to be able to dance...someday. You now, the day that comes right after the 12th of probably never. But it is fun and good exercise so I was perfectly happy in PRIVATE lessons.
The dance was so far beyond my comfort level there isn't even a scale that high. Get all dressed up in formal attire and then learn a dance with a whole group of strangers, all of whom clearly have been dancing for years. Plus due to Hubs never being on time for anything, arrive late and miss the first set of instructions. Oh, and be pushed into the advanced group since the beginner class was full. Nope, no room for disaster here. Being spread-eagled on a delivery table naked with your junk wide open for a room full of medical students to watch another guy reach into your pelvis up to his elbow was less embarrassing. At least having a baby doesn't require heels that cripple you. Plus you can usually score drugs.
Much like high school, at least for us geeks, a "practice party" must be done sober.
After suffering through most of the lesson I finally quit since there was as much chance of mastering the Viennese waltz in 30 minutes as there was of my playing professional football. As a linebacker. So I quietly ducked out and wished for Scotty to please beam me up!
Alas, once the lesson portion was over they opened up the floor to actual dancing. Almost immediately Hubs was snagged by some lady and off they whirled. Fred, unlike me, does not suffer from performance anxiety. He is perfectly at home in situations like this. Of course the only thing worse than getting asked to dance is NOT getting asked, so as I was weighing the odds of stepping out and spending the rest of the night doing something very mature like hiding in the car, my instructor Isaac stepped up and asked me to dance. I politely declined and explained with a grin that my instructor hadn't shown me this dance yet. To which he grinned and held out his hand. "Right, that's what I'm going to do." Oh crap! My "I don't know this dance" excuse wouldn't work on my instructor! Now what to do???
While I was wondering whether to fake appendicitis or actually break a leg, I forgot to panic and as usual he was so calm and easy going, that before I knew it he had me doing the Cha-cha. Sort of.
Despite one utterly humiliating dance with the visiting instructor when he begged me to quit trying and just walk backward, the night ended on a mostly positive note. I only had two smashed toes, and my pride had only been battered to a pulp, probably not a terminal injury, so all in all, I can't wait to do it again.
When you know where freezes, that is!
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Tinsel Town Packing
The last of the Christmas decorations are down in the house and everything is shoved into, I mean packed up into, closets once again.
Of course our super obnoxiously bright and musical lights are still going strong. Yeah, we are those people. Like you didn't know that already, right?
Anyway, as much as I enjoy getting all the glitter and decorations up there is something very satisfying about putting it away as well. Probably because it is the only project that actually gets completely done at our house. Usually most things get sort of done, or done with what my grandma used to call a "lick and a prayer." Which near as I can figure means you do a pathetic job and pray nobody notices, or at least hope they pretend like they don't.
Christmas de-decorating is like pregnancy. It either is Christmas or it isn't. It is a finite job. Unlike laundry which reproduces aerobically thereby insuring that if there is oxygen available dirty clothes are reproducing faster than viruses on a dirty sink. You NEVER do all the laundry. It is impossible. I know. I tried. The kids still talk about the time they weren't allowed to get out of the tub for 5 hours just so I could say there was NO dirty laundry. Anywhere. Same goes for dishes. There is always a cup or spoon lurking around just waiting for the wash cycle to be more than 1/2 done to pop out and sneer at you. Dusting is so pointless I don't even attempt to keep up. We just double up on Claritin in this house.
Right. Now that I have literally and figuratively aired the dirty laundry I can get to the point. While I enjoy the return of "normal" as much as the next person I always hate when people yank down everything 16 minutes after unwrapping the presents. Heathens get a free pass since they may not know about Epiphany or why you are supposed to leave everything up until Jan 6th.
But people start putting stuff up mid-October so no wonder they get sick of it. In our fast paced life everything is hurry, hurry, do-ahead. Retail stores live in terror that we might not over spend on junk we don't need and thus they seldom wait til one holiday is over before attempting to separate us from our money for the next one. I wonder what would happen if we all boycotted stores that put up displays more than 1 month ahead?
Next up-my views on world peace, economics, and nutrition. That way when I rule the world you will know what to expect.
Also I will post the address where you can send letters to me once I am committed.
Of course our super obnoxiously bright and musical lights are still going strong. Yeah, we are those people. Like you didn't know that already, right?
Anyway, as much as I enjoy getting all the glitter and decorations up there is something very satisfying about putting it away as well. Probably because it is the only project that actually gets completely done at our house. Usually most things get sort of done, or done with what my grandma used to call a "lick and a prayer." Which near as I can figure means you do a pathetic job and pray nobody notices, or at least hope they pretend like they don't.
Christmas de-decorating is like pregnancy. It either is Christmas or it isn't. It is a finite job. Unlike laundry which reproduces aerobically thereby insuring that if there is oxygen available dirty clothes are reproducing faster than viruses on a dirty sink. You NEVER do all the laundry. It is impossible. I know. I tried. The kids still talk about the time they weren't allowed to get out of the tub for 5 hours just so I could say there was NO dirty laundry. Anywhere. Same goes for dishes. There is always a cup or spoon lurking around just waiting for the wash cycle to be more than 1/2 done to pop out and sneer at you. Dusting is so pointless I don't even attempt to keep up. We just double up on Claritin in this house.
Right. Now that I have literally and figuratively aired the dirty laundry I can get to the point. While I enjoy the return of "normal" as much as the next person I always hate when people yank down everything 16 minutes after unwrapping the presents. Heathens get a free pass since they may not know about Epiphany or why you are supposed to leave everything up until Jan 6th.
But people start putting stuff up mid-October so no wonder they get sick of it. In our fast paced life everything is hurry, hurry, do-ahead. Retail stores live in terror that we might not over spend on junk we don't need and thus they seldom wait til one holiday is over before attempting to separate us from our money for the next one. I wonder what would happen if we all boycotted stores that put up displays more than 1 month ahead?
Next up-my views on world peace, economics, and nutrition. That way when I rule the world you will know what to expect.
Also I will post the address where you can send letters to me once I am committed.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Sugar and Spice
Thanks to the miracle of modern antibiotics the Great Bladder Infection has been fixed. Now that I am back up to speed it is time to start the annual sugar-a-thon known as Christmas Cookie baking. My sister is coming into help (a project of this magnitude requires reinforcements!) but several recipes have to be started ahead of time. Plus there is only one oven thus 3 days and nights are needed to accomplish the whole enchilada.
Pray for us.
Pray that my kitchen appliances that are vintage 1960 can handle the strain.
Pray that I didn't forgot crucial ingredients that require a mad dash to Hades, aka, the grocery store.
Pray that I don't get so fat that I have to turn sideways to get through to the table where all the cookies are lying in stately splendor.
Pray that the kids don't spontaneously combust from sugar overdose.
And most of all pray for all the people who live in places where they can't even begin to imagine a country so rich in blessings that the weight of food literally sags the dining room table.
Pray for us.
Pray that my kitchen appliances that are vintage 1960 can handle the strain.
Pray that I didn't forgot crucial ingredients that require a mad dash to Hades, aka, the grocery store.
Pray that I don't get so fat that I have to turn sideways to get through to the table where all the cookies are lying in stately splendor.
Pray that the kids don't spontaneously combust from sugar overdose.
And most of all pray for all the people who live in places where they can't even begin to imagine a country so rich in blessings that the weight of food literally sags the dining room table.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Twisted Christmas Shopping
I am not one to fight crowds. I am more the research the bargains at home and then dispatch Hubs to fight to the death-er-I mean find-the bargains. This year WalMart pulled a fast one and screwed up the Black Friday thing for me and so while I had planned to be completely done with my shopping, in fact I haven't started yet.
It is now 1 week til Christmas.
Is Kwanzaa later, because at this point I would consider changing holidays if it bought me more time. Anybody know when Festivus is?
OK, we are probably committed to Christmas at this point. Which means I had to get off my lazy butt and get it done. Having exhausted my Amazon-ability; everything else on my list requires shopping in an actual store, I headed out. Oh goody.
God blessed me with, as me call it in nursing, a 12 hour bladder. I can usually do an entire outing without having to brave disgusting public restrooms.
So how funny is it that I have to brave insane last minute shoppers, cranky with cold, and jacked up on holiday sugar, when I have a bladder infection? Me, who seldom, if ever, has to pee in public is now doing more toilet testing than a bored toddler.
Good times.
I had to stop at McDonald's before hitting the mall, and still had to dash off between mens' wear and household items. I had to slip into the john before tackling the boutique begged for by my precocious daughter. WalMart was having its usual super-sized crowds and inadequate checkers and I had to break off twice. Ick. Their bathrooms aren't great in the best of times but extra shoppers and slush is not a pleasant combination. In fact, they were so nasty for a -brief!-minute I considered stocking up on Depends.
Due to the constraints of an angry bladder I only accomplished half my list. Which means I get to go back out and brave the Madness again.
Is it better to wait until my Cipro kicks in, even though it will bring me closer to the big day, and thus escalate the pushy crowds/obnoxiousness factor or take my chances with unknown bathrooms?
To pee or not to pee, that is the question.
It is now 1 week til Christmas.
Is Kwanzaa later, because at this point I would consider changing holidays if it bought me more time. Anybody know when Festivus is?
OK, we are probably committed to Christmas at this point. Which means I had to get off my lazy butt and get it done. Having exhausted my Amazon-ability; everything else on my list requires shopping in an actual store, I headed out. Oh goody.
God blessed me with, as me call it in nursing, a 12 hour bladder. I can usually do an entire outing without having to brave disgusting public restrooms.
So how funny is it that I have to brave insane last minute shoppers, cranky with cold, and jacked up on holiday sugar, when I have a bladder infection? Me, who seldom, if ever, has to pee in public is now doing more toilet testing than a bored toddler.
Good times.
I had to stop at McDonald's before hitting the mall, and still had to dash off between mens' wear and household items. I had to slip into the john before tackling the boutique begged for by my precocious daughter. WalMart was having its usual super-sized crowds and inadequate checkers and I had to break off twice. Ick. Their bathrooms aren't great in the best of times but extra shoppers and slush is not a pleasant combination. In fact, they were so nasty for a -brief!-minute I considered stocking up on Depends.
Due to the constraints of an angry bladder I only accomplished half my list. Which means I get to go back out and brave the Madness again.
Is it better to wait until my Cipro kicks in, even though it will bring me closer to the big day, and thus escalate the pushy crowds/obnoxiousness factor or take my chances with unknown bathrooms?
To pee or not to pee, that is the question.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Cheer Drama
Part of being a team is learning to deal with people and get along even when you have differences, realizing that sometimes self has to be sacrificed for the greater good of the team. This is a very important lesson and one of the reasons we spend a lot of time and money carting kids to various team activities.
Younger daughter has chosen to spend the majority of her time in competitive cheer leading.
This is not a sport that existed as such way back in the dark ages when I grew up. Back then cheerleaders wore skirts and sweaters and cheered for their school team at assorted ball games. And the skill and the popularity of the girls was clearly delineated by the sport they cheered for. The football cheerleaders ruled the school and basketball cheerleaders were not as cool although they were better than the hockey girls. The poor suckers who cheered for the golf team were generally seen as losers only slightly better than the kids sneaking into science club. Of course now the science geeks own Microsoft and Facebook and are bazillionaires and the golf girls knew something the rest of us didn't grasp. Golf is lame but golfers generally aren't losers. Am I wrong? Would you rather own a house over looking a golf course or a football stadium? But that is another post.
The point is that cheerleaders cheered for other people. It wasn't a stand alone activity. Also they did a few tame stunts but mostly shook pom-poms, jumped around, and yelled.
Things have changed a bit.
No pom-poms for one. Now it is more like synchronized tumbling. It requires nerves of steel, quick reaction time, extreme flexibility, and advanced tumbling. Only very small kids do cartwheels and round-offs. Now by the age of 10 they are all doing back handsprings, most do tucks and quite a few do layouts and fulls. Kids as young as 5 lift each other above their heads and perform gravity defying stunts.
No sweaters either. It is all glitter, skimpy outfits, big hair, and goofy faces.
It is also the most dangerous sport. Worse than hockey, football, and rugby. When you toss someone 20 feet in the air and something goes wrong, bones break, and sometimes kids die or they don't walk again.
Which is why I still don't know why on earth I agreed to this activity. I can't even joke about it because it isn't something you can justify. Either you have a kid in it or you are crazy. It's an all or nothing thing.
Think soccer moms are bad? They don't hold a candle to cheer-moms. Think moms with manicures and nothing to lose. These women will take a stiletto to you if you cross the line, and they won't even break a sweat. They swear to drive the miles and pay the fees in order to watch their kids do crazy dangerous things. They agree to plan all other family events around the competition schedule. This includes weddings and funerals. After all the person is dead, why miss a comp for that? It isn't like they are going anywhere.
So imagine that one mom skips town in the middle of the night and takes off for home with her daughter who happens to be in all the stunts and tumbles in the front row. A crowd of liquored up rednecks in the 30's would have been polite to a minority person compared to the vitriol spewed by angry cheer moms. The only thing standing between them and first degree murder charges was the approaching performance time. NOTHING stops the show. You can barf in a bucket back stage, teeth have been pulled and bones have been set. There is nothing those women can't fix with hairspray, duct tape, and glitter. They just grabbed a sibling, ganged up in a huddle and emerged with a girl ready to fake it with the best of them.
It isn't over, and if the mom who left has a drop of sense she has already left the country and headed for a part of the world that speaks a different language and outlawed glitter. I'm not even exaggerating.
Cheer moms don't forget, they don't forgive, and if she ever shows her face at the gym again she will be choked to death with a sequined bow. Of course it will look like an accident and the mortician won't need to fix her hair, but trust me, nobody accidentally dies by ribbon.
Younger daughter has chosen to spend the majority of her time in competitive cheer leading.
This is not a sport that existed as such way back in the dark ages when I grew up. Back then cheerleaders wore skirts and sweaters and cheered for their school team at assorted ball games. And the skill and the popularity of the girls was clearly delineated by the sport they cheered for. The football cheerleaders ruled the school and basketball cheerleaders were not as cool although they were better than the hockey girls. The poor suckers who cheered for the golf team were generally seen as losers only slightly better than the kids sneaking into science club. Of course now the science geeks own Microsoft and Facebook and are bazillionaires and the golf girls knew something the rest of us didn't grasp. Golf is lame but golfers generally aren't losers. Am I wrong? Would you rather own a house over looking a golf course or a football stadium? But that is another post.
The point is that cheerleaders cheered for other people. It wasn't a stand alone activity. Also they did a few tame stunts but mostly shook pom-poms, jumped around, and yelled.
Things have changed a bit.
No pom-poms for one. Now it is more like synchronized tumbling. It requires nerves of steel, quick reaction time, extreme flexibility, and advanced tumbling. Only very small kids do cartwheels and round-offs. Now by the age of 10 they are all doing back handsprings, most do tucks and quite a few do layouts and fulls. Kids as young as 5 lift each other above their heads and perform gravity defying stunts.
No sweaters either. It is all glitter, skimpy outfits, big hair, and goofy faces.
It is also the most dangerous sport. Worse than hockey, football, and rugby. When you toss someone 20 feet in the air and something goes wrong, bones break, and sometimes kids die or they don't walk again.
Which is why I still don't know why on earth I agreed to this activity. I can't even joke about it because it isn't something you can justify. Either you have a kid in it or you are crazy. It's an all or nothing thing.
Think soccer moms are bad? They don't hold a candle to cheer-moms. Think moms with manicures and nothing to lose. These women will take a stiletto to you if you cross the line, and they won't even break a sweat. They swear to drive the miles and pay the fees in order to watch their kids do crazy dangerous things. They agree to plan all other family events around the competition schedule. This includes weddings and funerals. After all the person is dead, why miss a comp for that? It isn't like they are going anywhere.
So imagine that one mom skips town in the middle of the night and takes off for home with her daughter who happens to be in all the stunts and tumbles in the front row. A crowd of liquored up rednecks in the 30's would have been polite to a minority person compared to the vitriol spewed by angry cheer moms. The only thing standing between them and first degree murder charges was the approaching performance time. NOTHING stops the show. You can barf in a bucket back stage, teeth have been pulled and bones have been set. There is nothing those women can't fix with hairspray, duct tape, and glitter. They just grabbed a sibling, ganged up in a huddle and emerged with a girl ready to fake it with the best of them.
It isn't over, and if the mom who left has a drop of sense she has already left the country and headed for a part of the world that speaks a different language and outlawed glitter. I'm not even exaggerating.
Cheer moms don't forget, they don't forgive, and if she ever shows her face at the gym again she will be choked to death with a sequined bow. Of course it will look like an accident and the mortician won't need to fix her hair, but trust me, nobody accidentally dies by ribbon.
Friday, December 10, 2010
So Long Bailey
Last night we had to take Bailey to the vet. As Hubs was getting him into his carrier I knew it was going to be the the last time I saw him. Of course I hoped I was wrong but even though we didn't cover pets in nursing school I know enough to recognizes the signs and I figured it was the last time I would see him.
I was right.
The vet confirmed that his heart was failing and giving him a quick and easy passing was the last thing we could do for him. Hubs said he was cuddling him and when the vet gave him the Valium to relax him first, that was the end, his heart was just worn out.
Even though he was an elderly cat, up until the last few days I didn't see it coming. Barney is the one who has had one serious crisis after another. Bailey hasn't been sick a day in his life. In fact up until the move Bailey always seemed like a much younger cat than Barney. In hindsight there were some subtle signs that things weren't perfect. A part of me thinks that he was really just holding out until Hubs got home from the desert. He was his cat, you see. So I'm sure Bailey was glad that it was hubs who cuddled him last. I'm sure that made him more comfortable.
I had been praying that he would just slip off in his sleep at home, but sometimes things don't work out the way we want.
This morning at breakfast Barney kept looking around and sniffing the house meowing the whole time. He was looking for his brother I think. It's funny how animals can tell when something is not right.
Whenever Barney would see Bailey laying on my lap he would come right over and chase him off. Yesterday, Bailey was sprawled on my lap and breathing heavily and Barney came up and for the first time ever he just licked him a little and then lay down beside him. I guess maybe he was saying goodbye.
I like to think that St. Francis has a special section of Heaven reserved for beloved pets.
Hubs and I were remembering all the cute things he did, like playing fetch with Q-tips and paper balls. How crazy he would get with catnip and how he would beg for attention and then hiss at people. How he used to chase the dog. How he would stand on two legs and do "Mere-Cat." How his too-long and fluffy tail didn't match his body.
I am so glad he is not suffering but the house is too quiet today and we will miss him very much.
I was right.
The vet confirmed that his heart was failing and giving him a quick and easy passing was the last thing we could do for him. Hubs said he was cuddling him and when the vet gave him the Valium to relax him first, that was the end, his heart was just worn out.
Even though he was an elderly cat, up until the last few days I didn't see it coming. Barney is the one who has had one serious crisis after another. Bailey hasn't been sick a day in his life. In fact up until the move Bailey always seemed like a much younger cat than Barney. In hindsight there were some subtle signs that things weren't perfect. A part of me thinks that he was really just holding out until Hubs got home from the desert. He was his cat, you see. So I'm sure Bailey was glad that it was hubs who cuddled him last. I'm sure that made him more comfortable.
I had been praying that he would just slip off in his sleep at home, but sometimes things don't work out the way we want.
This morning at breakfast Barney kept looking around and sniffing the house meowing the whole time. He was looking for his brother I think. It's funny how animals can tell when something is not right.
Whenever Barney would see Bailey laying on my lap he would come right over and chase him off. Yesterday, Bailey was sprawled on my lap and breathing heavily and Barney came up and for the first time ever he just licked him a little and then lay down beside him. I guess maybe he was saying goodbye.
I like to think that St. Francis has a special section of Heaven reserved for beloved pets.
Hubs and I were remembering all the cute things he did, like playing fetch with Q-tips and paper balls. How crazy he would get with catnip and how he would beg for attention and then hiss at people. How he used to chase the dog. How he would stand on two legs and do "Mere-Cat." How his too-long and fluffy tail didn't match his body.
I am so glad he is not suffering but the house is too quiet today and we will miss him very much.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Ho Ho Ho
It's beginning to look like Christmas in the house. The Christmas tree is up and mostly decorated. (That is it is excessively decorated down low and not so much up high, but the kids had fun, so, whatever.) Our house is bedecked in lots of lights that flash and dance enough to incite seizures and they do it in time to Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas music. My decorations have spread out to every available flat surface and any vertical one that would hold a nail.
My sister and I have plotted out the best strategy to accomplish the mountain of cookie baking needed and airline tickets have been bought to bring relatives from afar.
The annual missive is written and awaiting final approval from Scrooge-er-Hubs-who gets censoring privileges.
There is snow on the ground and the lights in the bushes twinkle through the snow at night. YES! Back in the land of White Christmases I am a happy camper.
Of course time is doing its usual disappearing act and minutes are flying by at an alarming rate, but, all in all, peace and goodwill towards man reign supreme.
Now to come up with just ONE surprise for Hubs for Christmas. The man gets crazy this time of year and seems to read minds at will, making it a challenge of epic proportions to actually surprise him on Christmas morning. My best bet is to wait until the last minute and hope he is too busy playing video games with his brother in law to apply his x-ray vision and mind reading abilities. Wish me luck!
My sister and I have plotted out the best strategy to accomplish the mountain of cookie baking needed and airline tickets have been bought to bring relatives from afar.
The annual missive is written and awaiting final approval from Scrooge-er-Hubs-who gets censoring privileges.
There is snow on the ground and the lights in the bushes twinkle through the snow at night. YES! Back in the land of White Christmases I am a happy camper.
Of course time is doing its usual disappearing act and minutes are flying by at an alarming rate, but, all in all, peace and goodwill towards man reign supreme.
Now to come up with just ONE surprise for Hubs for Christmas. The man gets crazy this time of year and seems to read minds at will, making it a challenge of epic proportions to actually surprise him on Christmas morning. My best bet is to wait until the last minute and hope he is too busy playing video games with his brother in law to apply his x-ray vision and mind reading abilities. Wish me luck!
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Hands in the Air and Back Away Slowly!
As you may know I am a devoted fan of Swagbucks. Being a cheap sort of person I am all about free money. Since there is no down side it was made for people like me. In the interest of full disclosure if you sign up through my link and then actually use the search engine they credit me matching swagbucks up to the first 1,000 you earn. It doesn't cost you anything and is a sort of win/win but now you know the dirty secret. I don't really like you; I just want to earn a whopping $10 to Amazon from you.
The really sad truth is that I could not care less about Amazon and I'd probably pay you $10 just to read this blog. Yeah, I am that needy. (And NO that wasn't an actual offer!)
Right, the point. Well one of the gadgets I treated myself to this year with Swagbucks was a Kindle. I wouldn't have spent my money but OPM was perfect for such a luxury item. I ended up loving it. In hindsight I may have preferred the Nook so that I could use in in Barnes and Noble but the sad truth is that I mostly buy "free" books off Amazon because I mostly read cheesy romance novels and lowbrow mysteries. I have a $150 device loaded up with garbage novels. Gotta love the irony.
So imagine my surprise when I turned it on and found the: 2011 US Government fiscal budget, Tomas Payne's Common Sense, Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography, and Memorable Thoughts of Socrates! Say what? Where is my cheesy historical romance? Socrates? REALLY? What kind of sick joke is this?
At which point Hubs confessed that he saw "Harry's Kindle" on Amazon and thus tried to load his own books. The smoke started whisping out through my ears and he said, "I thought it was mine!"
"OK, I can see where you might be confused," I said. "Except, you don't HAVE a Kindle!" Thus followed a long and noisy argement involving apps, iphones, Amazon accounts and which emails had been set up under which names for who only knows what reason ages ago and pretty soon the only thing I was sure of was that my Kindle now had actual literature instead of trashy novels. Blah!
Kudos to Hubs for employing my favorite argument strategy! If you can't convince 'em, confuse 'em enough until they give up and leave you alone. Before you suggest we share the Kindle, the whole truth is that in 4 months he hasn't picked up a book once. I might read trash, but at least I read. He intends to read but never actually gets around to it. Now I just have to figure out how to get that stuff off my Kindle. Cause you can load deep thoughts but you can't make me think 'em! Bring back my lonely cowboys and misunderstood Dukes. Socrates will have to wait, I prefer bulging muscles and smoldering looks. And to be fair, Socrates probably would have preferred Hubs if rumors are true.
The really sad truth is that I could not care less about Amazon and I'd probably pay you $10 just to read this blog. Yeah, I am that needy. (And NO that wasn't an actual offer!)
Right, the point. Well one of the gadgets I treated myself to this year with Swagbucks was a Kindle. I wouldn't have spent my money but OPM was perfect for such a luxury item. I ended up loving it. In hindsight I may have preferred the Nook so that I could use in in Barnes and Noble but the sad truth is that I mostly buy "free" books off Amazon because I mostly read cheesy romance novels and lowbrow mysteries. I have a $150 device loaded up with garbage novels. Gotta love the irony.
So imagine my surprise when I turned it on and found the: 2011 US Government fiscal budget, Tomas Payne's Common Sense, Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography, and Memorable Thoughts of Socrates! Say what? Where is my cheesy historical romance? Socrates? REALLY? What kind of sick joke is this?
At which point Hubs confessed that he saw "Harry's Kindle" on Amazon and thus tried to load his own books. The smoke started whisping out through my ears and he said, "I thought it was mine!"
"OK, I can see where you might be confused," I said. "Except, you don't HAVE a Kindle!" Thus followed a long and noisy argement involving apps, iphones, Amazon accounts and which emails had been set up under which names for who only knows what reason ages ago and pretty soon the only thing I was sure of was that my Kindle now had actual literature instead of trashy novels. Blah!
Kudos to Hubs for employing my favorite argument strategy! If you can't convince 'em, confuse 'em enough until they give up and leave you alone. Before you suggest we share the Kindle, the whole truth is that in 4 months he hasn't picked up a book once. I might read trash, but at least I read. He intends to read but never actually gets around to it. Now I just have to figure out how to get that stuff off my Kindle. Cause you can load deep thoughts but you can't make me think 'em! Bring back my lonely cowboys and misunderstood Dukes. Socrates will have to wait, I prefer bulging muscles and smoldering looks. And to be fair, Socrates probably would have preferred Hubs if rumors are true.
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