This post was actually written in August, but I just couldn’t get it finished and posted. So, while it’s a bit outdated, you may still find something that resonates with you.
Last night I went for a run. I went earlier than I have been going lately because it was a wee bit cooler and it seemed to be getting dark earlier than it has been. I ran my usual course – a course I am so familiar with that straying from it causes my puny body to peter out prematurely. I kept hearing this strange sound as I ran down the sidewalk. I finally realized that the sound was leaves crunching under the weight of my running shoes. I hadn’t heard that sound in months. It dawned on me as I looked up and around at the houses, that I was the only person outside. Where were the kids? I passed this one house where I used to run into a gaggle of boys playing a pick-up game of football in the yard. There was no one in sight. Just a lamp I could see lighting the den. Everything was very quiet. The only thing I could hear, other than those crunchy leaves, was my lumbered breathing. Where was everyone? Where was the noise? The heat?
It was gone - because it is becoming fall and the hustle and bustle of school and the start of everything is beginning anew. Normally, this only affects me in two ways:
1. Much more traffic on the main drag in the city where I work
2. Excessive annoying posts in my news feed on Facebook about football teams, games, players, crappy calls, stupid fans (from opposing teams, of course), tickets for sale, pain, misery, elation, etc.
But this year, it has a different feel. For the first time, I have a child entering kindergarten. This is the first time that school starting will have a significant impact on my life (other than when I was in school). Of course, it will have a greater impact on Kate’s life, but we’re talking about me here. This is the first year of the next 12+ that we will go “back to school”. I am having to change my mindset about being able to keep her and Meg out of school on a Friday so we can go out of town. We will now have to be more deliberate about reading together and discussing what they are learning. We always did that, but now there will need to be more substance to it. I’ll have to be strategic about getting them to bed early since there will be no nap at school. That means I’ll have to be strategic about EVERYTHING that precipitates bedtime. Ugh. I’m getting my first back-to-school headache.
I actually bought school supplies on Sunday. I’ve never had to do that before. All those pitiful looking people digging through the notebooks and folders that I’ve seen through the years – I was one of them. I was trying to be good about buying the “right” kind of pencil pouch. I was afraid that if I got the wrong style or color, Kate would be ostracized on her first day and would never forgive me. There was an off-brand of crayons that I never even considered buying. A kid who shows up without Crayola? A total loser. Past that, I don’t know what the acceptable brands of these items are. Mead? Trapper Keeper? Seems like a kid in my grade got beat up for having a Trapper Keeper so I’ll steer clear of that.
I am utterly clueless about how to parent a kindergartener. When Kate has homework, do I write the answers for her or do I spell everything out to her and let her write the answers that she won’t be able to read? When I ask her what she learned at school today and she responds, “I don’t know” what am I supposed to do? Do I drag it out of her or do I just let her tell me in her own time? She and Meg are starting at a new school this year and we all have some trepidation about that. Do I worry about everything on the front end or do I just let them grow and blossom in their own time and just get out of their way? I realize the answer to that last question of course, but I am not built that way. I worry about all of the possibles instead of just trying to concentrate on any probables. It’s what I do. How am I supposed to let go of all of the things I fear for both of my girls and just allow them to experience this time for themselves?
I realize I don’t have a choice in the matter. They will experience all of the things that are typical of childhood regardless of what I do. They will have good days and they will have bad days. They’ll have best friends one day who won’t speak to them the next. They will compare themselves to other kids and think they come up short. They will be self-conscious. They will be good at some things and not so good as others. They will doubt themselves. But those moments will be fleeting. If Mike and I do our job right, they will get past those feelings and learn to be happy with who they are and proud of the good things they do. I think my most important job is to make sure they feel the love I have for them. If they feel love, then those painful things they’ll experience during the next few years will simply be learning experiences for them. I am smart enough to know this, but I’m not yet seasoned enough to be confident in my ability to lead them through their childhood.
Of course, this IS just their first week of school. Perhaps I should just take it day by day as I am encouraging them to do. I just want so much for both of my girls. There’s not much I can solve for them tonight, so I think I'll focus on what I can do which is to put them to bed so they can get a good night’s sleep. I’ll leave you with this quote:
There are two lasting bequests we can give our children. One is roots. The other is wings.
- Hodding Carter, Jr.
Best of luck to you in establishing roots and providing wings.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Best Day/Worst Day
When I was in high school, the movie City Slickers came out. At the time, I thought it was hilarious. Now that I'm older and understand intelligent, clever comedy, I realize it was really just an average movie. But there was one scene that stood out to me even then. It was a scene in which the men - unhappy in their middle age - begin discussing what were their best and worst days. I struggled then to try and figure out how I would respond to that. Now that I am older and have some experience behind me, I can absolutely answer it.
My best day is kind of hard to pin down. I have had a lot of fun times. I have been able to do many of the things I have wanted to do. For the most part, I have had a very happy life thus far. I have two beautiful children and while nothing has been more significant in my life than having my girls, I can't say that the days they were born were my best days. Kate was born in my 29th week of pregnancy. It was tense and scary. Ultimately it was a wonderful outcome but at the time we were scared to death not knowing if she would be okay. We had no idea what to expect. All we knew was that we would not be taking our baby home for a long time so it wasn't exactly a time to celebrate.
With Meg, my post-partum depression had already kicked in (unbeknownst to me) so I was already in a bit of a downward spiral. Her birth was not as dramatic as Kate's was by any means. I was just kind of already in a fog. We were relieved she was healthy, but at the time, I really was not. I knew I loved her, but I was scared to death at the prospect of having a newborn PLUS a rambunctious almost two year old. Again, the outcome was beautiful. But at the time I wasn't myself. So, neither day can go down as my best day.
What was my best day you may be wondering (if you are still reading)? I would have to say it was the day after I got engaged to Mike. The actual day-of was a pretty crappy day until about 9:00 that night when he popped the question. But that next day I was absolutely floating. I could not get over the sudden appearance of this beautiful ring I thought would never be on my finger. I couldn't wait to talk about it with my family and friends. Mike and I were free to talk about our future together without me fearing I sounded like a a psycho girl trying to sink my claws into the first man who didn't run away screaming. I was so excited and giddy at what my future had in store with this wonderful man. People were so kind and seemed genuinely happy for me. It was a lovely day. Although I was excited beyond words, I could not have known what a wonderful life I would have with him and then with our girls. And things are still going strong.
My worst day, you may have gathered by the date of this post, was September 11, 2001. It was the day after my birthday and the morning after my first quasi-fight with Mike. He and I had come home from my birthday dinner to find that Dudley (my dog and now Mike's step-son) had experienced explosive, projectile diarrhea in our absence. The little gift he had left us was all over Mike's pristine, cream-colored carpet. Mike had spanked him even thought I had told him that Dudley wouldn't understand at that point why he was in trouble. I was angry with Mike for hitting him especially after I had told him not to. I didn't say much to Mike that night after it happened and after we scrubbed and scrubbed his floor (to no avail).
The next morning, I was still irritated with Mike and I had a headache. I had an event later that day on campus where I worked and so I decided to go into work late. I lied down on my couch in the den and closed my eyes listening to the Today Show. That's when I heard about what was going on in New York City. My first thought, like many of yours, was, "Man some air traffic controller is gonna get fired over this". Of course, the whole thing unfolded before my eyes and before the eyes of just about everyone in America that day. I was absolutely stunned at what I was watching. Mike was supposed to be flying to Chicago that day and I grabbed the phone and called him to beg him not to go. Of course, in the end, that decision was made for him.
I remember watching the TV on the phone with my sister when the first tower collapsed. I was hysterical because I thought bombs were going off. It just didn't occur to me that those massive buildings could fall. Before the collapse I was just heartsick watching the images not only of people jumping to their deaths, but seeing those stuck above the impact zone you knew were not likely to make it out. And when the cameras cut to a picture of the Pentagon engulfed in flames, that's when I lost my innocent, naive view of the world forever. This was a deliberate, coordinated attack perpetrated by people who hated us. I couldn't understand that kind of hatred. I don't hate any group of people. Why couldn't these people just live and let live? What on earth would drive them to kill all of these innocent people? There were towers collapsing. The Pentagon was under attack. There were other planes unaccounted for. There was a sickening feeling in my stomach because you just didn't know what was going to happen next. It was the most scared, sad and hopeless I have ever felt in my life.
I ended up going in to work because I just didn't know what else to do. I was scared and felt so alone and helpless. I knew that there had been tremendous loss of life (and I am still flabbergasted and grateful to the public servants and heroes who saw to it that the numbers were not higher that day). I needed to be around people - although I was of no solace to any of them. I needed Mike. (Dudley's little gift the night before was a distant memory.) He and I snuggled up together that night and listened to President Bush and Rudy Giuliani try to calm the public while clearly stating that the people responsible for this would pay. I was grateful for their words. I had a lump in my throat watching our members of congress come together and sing God Bless America. I felt such pride that I really hadn't thought about before about being an American. Sure, I knew I was lucky to have been born and raised in this country, but I never understood what it meant until that day.
I cried a lot that day and in the days to follow. The more TV coverage was on, the more I watched it. I listened to people's stories of loss and stories of survival. There were so many heroic acts that day. I'm sure that there were several acts of heroism that none of us will ever know about because those involved did not live to tell the tales. To this day, I can get absorbed into a 9/11 documentary no matter what I'm doing. I feel like I need to watch those stories in order to honor the dead.
It's been ten years and it as still as vivid to me and to so many as though it was yesterday. It is still so utterly scary and indescribably sad. Our understanding of our world has changed. The world in which our kids will grow up is different than the world we thought we were growing up in. And let's not forget the thousands of people who lost someone they loved that day. So very sad. And still so very real.
I have been glued to the coverage of the tenth anniversary of that horrible day. So much has changed in my life since that day that I am so grateful for. I got engaged and married in 2002. I had my kids. Have had various nieces and nephews. Have had a lot of happy times. But nothing will ever be quite the same for those of us who were living during 9/11. And my experience is nothing compared to those who were there or who lost someone. But it is part of our collective consciousness as a nation. To be an American is to remember where you were and what you were doing that morning. And so, too, is it American to find ways to press on and live a good and happy life.
So, as we mark the decade that has passed since that horrific day, let us hold our loved ones close and never forget how quickly our world can change. Let us find ways to honor those whose duty is to run into the burning buildings as the rest of us run out. And let us all be thankful for every gift that we have. We all have a lot more than we could have. God Bless America indeed.
My best day is kind of hard to pin down. I have had a lot of fun times. I have been able to do many of the things I have wanted to do. For the most part, I have had a very happy life thus far. I have two beautiful children and while nothing has been more significant in my life than having my girls, I can't say that the days they were born were my best days. Kate was born in my 29th week of pregnancy. It was tense and scary. Ultimately it was a wonderful outcome but at the time we were scared to death not knowing if she would be okay. We had no idea what to expect. All we knew was that we would not be taking our baby home for a long time so it wasn't exactly a time to celebrate.
With Meg, my post-partum depression had already kicked in (unbeknownst to me) so I was already in a bit of a downward spiral. Her birth was not as dramatic as Kate's was by any means. I was just kind of already in a fog. We were relieved she was healthy, but at the time, I really was not. I knew I loved her, but I was scared to death at the prospect of having a newborn PLUS a rambunctious almost two year old. Again, the outcome was beautiful. But at the time I wasn't myself. So, neither day can go down as my best day.
What was my best day you may be wondering (if you are still reading)? I would have to say it was the day after I got engaged to Mike. The actual day-of was a pretty crappy day until about 9:00 that night when he popped the question. But that next day I was absolutely floating. I could not get over the sudden appearance of this beautiful ring I thought would never be on my finger. I couldn't wait to talk about it with my family and friends. Mike and I were free to talk about our future together without me fearing I sounded like a a psycho girl trying to sink my claws into the first man who didn't run away screaming. I was so excited and giddy at what my future had in store with this wonderful man. People were so kind and seemed genuinely happy for me. It was a lovely day. Although I was excited beyond words, I could not have known what a wonderful life I would have with him and then with our girls. And things are still going strong.
My worst day, you may have gathered by the date of this post, was September 11, 2001. It was the day after my birthday and the morning after my first quasi-fight with Mike. He and I had come home from my birthday dinner to find that Dudley (my dog and now Mike's step-son) had experienced explosive, projectile diarrhea in our absence. The little gift he had left us was all over Mike's pristine, cream-colored carpet. Mike had spanked him even thought I had told him that Dudley wouldn't understand at that point why he was in trouble. I was angry with Mike for hitting him especially after I had told him not to. I didn't say much to Mike that night after it happened and after we scrubbed and scrubbed his floor (to no avail).
The next morning, I was still irritated with Mike and I had a headache. I had an event later that day on campus where I worked and so I decided to go into work late. I lied down on my couch in the den and closed my eyes listening to the Today Show. That's when I heard about what was going on in New York City. My first thought, like many of yours, was, "Man some air traffic controller is gonna get fired over this". Of course, the whole thing unfolded before my eyes and before the eyes of just about everyone in America that day. I was absolutely stunned at what I was watching. Mike was supposed to be flying to Chicago that day and I grabbed the phone and called him to beg him not to go. Of course, in the end, that decision was made for him.
I remember watching the TV on the phone with my sister when the first tower collapsed. I was hysterical because I thought bombs were going off. It just didn't occur to me that those massive buildings could fall. Before the collapse I was just heartsick watching the images not only of people jumping to their deaths, but seeing those stuck above the impact zone you knew were not likely to make it out. And when the cameras cut to a picture of the Pentagon engulfed in flames, that's when I lost my innocent, naive view of the world forever. This was a deliberate, coordinated attack perpetrated by people who hated us. I couldn't understand that kind of hatred. I don't hate any group of people. Why couldn't these people just live and let live? What on earth would drive them to kill all of these innocent people? There were towers collapsing. The Pentagon was under attack. There were other planes unaccounted for. There was a sickening feeling in my stomach because you just didn't know what was going to happen next. It was the most scared, sad and hopeless I have ever felt in my life.
I ended up going in to work because I just didn't know what else to do. I was scared and felt so alone and helpless. I knew that there had been tremendous loss of life (and I am still flabbergasted and grateful to the public servants and heroes who saw to it that the numbers were not higher that day). I needed to be around people - although I was of no solace to any of them. I needed Mike. (Dudley's little gift the night before was a distant memory.) He and I snuggled up together that night and listened to President Bush and Rudy Giuliani try to calm the public while clearly stating that the people responsible for this would pay. I was grateful for their words. I had a lump in my throat watching our members of congress come together and sing God Bless America. I felt such pride that I really hadn't thought about before about being an American. Sure, I knew I was lucky to have been born and raised in this country, but I never understood what it meant until that day.
I cried a lot that day and in the days to follow. The more TV coverage was on, the more I watched it. I listened to people's stories of loss and stories of survival. There were so many heroic acts that day. I'm sure that there were several acts of heroism that none of us will ever know about because those involved did not live to tell the tales. To this day, I can get absorbed into a 9/11 documentary no matter what I'm doing. I feel like I need to watch those stories in order to honor the dead.
It's been ten years and it as still as vivid to me and to so many as though it was yesterday. It is still so utterly scary and indescribably sad. Our understanding of our world has changed. The world in which our kids will grow up is different than the world we thought we were growing up in. And let's not forget the thousands of people who lost someone they loved that day. So very sad. And still so very real.
I have been glued to the coverage of the tenth anniversary of that horrible day. So much has changed in my life since that day that I am so grateful for. I got engaged and married in 2002. I had my kids. Have had various nieces and nephews. Have had a lot of happy times. But nothing will ever be quite the same for those of us who were living during 9/11. And my experience is nothing compared to those who were there or who lost someone. But it is part of our collective consciousness as a nation. To be an American is to remember where you were and what you were doing that morning. And so, too, is it American to find ways to press on and live a good and happy life.
So, as we mark the decade that has passed since that horrific day, let us hold our loved ones close and never forget how quickly our world can change. Let us find ways to honor those whose duty is to run into the burning buildings as the rest of us run out. And let us all be thankful for every gift that we have. We all have a lot more than we could have. God Bless America indeed.
Monday, August 1, 2011
My Old Friend
Those of you who know me know that I have a 14 year old Jack Russell Terrier named Dudley. I have had Duds since he was 6 weeks old. He and I have been through a lot together. In the beginning, I was a single mother. I would work and come home at lunch and let him out of his crate to run around and take care of his bowel and urinary needs. I would rush home at the end of the work day to once again free him from his crate. I would go out on dates based on whether or not the guy was worth sticking Dudley back in his crate during the time I’d be gone. Most of them were not.
Dudley was seen as part of the package when it came to family gatherings. My sister would bring her husband and her young sons for Christmas. I’d bring Dudley. Cousins would share a bed with their spouses. Dudley and I would spoon in my queen sized bed. On weekends, I’d schedule errands around his schedule. I wouldn’t want to be gone too long at a stretch. I’d make sure it wasn’t too hot when we’d go on walks or play with his racquetballs. I’d talk to him a lot. Sing to him (and change lyrics of songs to make them about him). Cuddle with him a lot. Worry and fuss over him. I loved, loved, loved that dog.
When I started dating my husband, I worried that Dudley would come between us. Mike was not used to having pets in the house - much less a dog curled up in his lap or begging for food at the dinner table. After Mike met me, he confided to one of his friends that he liked me enough to where Dudley was not necessarily a “deal-breaker”. Not a deal-breaker? My sweet Dudley?! Let me tell you something, if anyone’s the deal-breaker it’s YOU! Dudley and I are perfectly happy in our little world and don’t need any disruptions to our little routine, thank you very much.
And Dudley did not like Mike at all, either. Their first few months together were just a disaster. I likened it to a teenager getting a new step-parent and pushing the boundaries with all the angst and resentment they can muster. That was how Dudley behaved. He’d growl and snarl at Mike and whimper so I’d think Mike had just struck him (which he hadn’t… that I’m aware of). He was extremely manipulative like a child would be.
You may think I’m exaggerating but picture this: These two hate each other and then we go to my parents’ house for the dreaded, “this is my new boyfriend” weekend of humiliation and Dudley spends the entire time IN MIKE’S LAP. That’s right. He was perched there every time Mike sat down. Now this was due, in part, to the fact that my parents had several dogs and he was trying to “claim” Mike as his. But it also made it seem to others as though Mike was exaggerating or lying about all of Dudley’s childish (doggish) antics. Thankfully, after a potentially relationship-ending encounter between Dudley and some not-quite-dry cement that Mike got blamed for letting him ruin, Mike and Dudley finally made their peace and actually became little buddies in their own right.
In fact, I dare say that Mike is now more of Dudley’s caregiver than I am. When I was single and used to have to leave him in his crate when I’d go to work, I would tell him that someday he wouldn’t have to sit in a crate all day. That I’d create a better life for him somehow. I felt such guilt about having to leave him in his cramped little crate. Enter Mike who is (or, was at the time) self-employed. Dudley now gets to go to work everyday and earn a living. Mike even made him Director of Employee Complaints. Who could complain around such a cute little face? He was the office mascot. And he and Mike got to spend all day together.
Dudley has always been what you’d call a high-needs dog. From a very early age, he had major separation anxiety. It got so bad that at one point he was Prozac – human Prozac – to try and calm him down. It didn’t even make a dent in his behavior, so I considered just taking it myself so I wouldn’t worry so much about him.
In his younger years, we went through a rough stretch where he was being regularly targeted and attacked by a menacing neighborhood mockingbird. If you’ve ever had a run-in with a mockingbird, you know their chirp immediately. They are aptly named – they truly do mock with their aggressive chirps. This one would fly over to a certain point on my roof and would watch him for a while and then swoop down and fly right into him Kamikaze-style with his beak. It got so bad that as soon as we would hear his chirp, Dudley would tuck his tail and run to me, begging to be rescued and taken inside. In fact, we went though a period where Dudley wouldn’t even go outside to relieve himself anymore because he was so frightened of being hurt. I contacted Animal Control who told me that the bird was probably just protecting his nest and that they’d come over and remove the next once I was able to locate it. Okay, I would think locating the nest would be something Animal Control would do. And anyway, I’ve seen the way this bird treats my dog. I’m not going to go try and piss him off. The problem ended when we left for a week on vacation (Dudley couldn’t come – rental house). I guess the bird got bored with no one to pick on and so he flew off to find his next victim.
So, yes, Dudley has always had some special needs. But, they were cute little quirks. Things that made him uniquely Duds. And I loved him for all of the trouble he was. I still do, although my feelings for him have been changing lately. He is now 14 years old which is hard to imagine as you watch him run, swim and play. He looks much younger and is in great shape. But you are quickly reminded when he… say… pees on the bed. Or…just as an example….poops on the dining room rug so that you can smell a hint of feces as you are eating your savory meal. I know he probably can’t help it, but I already have two children. I don’t need a third one. And he now requires more care than I have the time or inclination to give him. And I feel so guilty for it. He has been my little buddy for 14 years and I am getting so annoyed with him these days. It’s not his fault. It’s his age.
I guess it's his age. but I do look at him differently now than I used to. Where he once once the center of my universe he has become a burden to me. Do I find him expendable because he’s old and no longer capable of things that he once was? My goodness - Is this how my kids will feel about me when I begin to age and become incontinent? Will they resent having to yell things to me because I can no longer hear? Will I get in trouble if I chew up the wooden blinds because I’m upset that I’m alone in the house? Will they be angry when I need a bath because I’ve rolled in something dead because it is in my nature to do so? Hopefully not. So why am I so impatient with Dudley? I really do love him and I will be crushed – a sobbing mess – when he dies. It will be awful. Mike and I get teary-eyed just talking about the fact that he won’t be around forever. To actually be faced with it will be excruciating for both of us.
When these things cross my mind, I feel guilty for being so intolerant of him and I’ll go and cuddle with him or scratch him or feed him a piece of something he likes. In the time he has left with our family, I want try and be sure he knows every day that he’s my little buddy no matter where he pees or poops. I’ve seen a lot of posts on Facebook recently where people have had to put their dogs to sleep after a long, healthy life. That will be me sooner rather than later and I don’t need to take it for granted.
Sorry to ramble, but I needed to express it. I needed to focus again on my love for that doggie. Plus, I got nervous that something tragic might happen to me and my last words to all of you would be a post about feminine odor. Thought this one was slightly more heartwarming. Here's a nice quote for you:
Dogs' lives are too short. Their only fault, really.
~Agnes Sligh Turnbull
Dudley was seen as part of the package when it came to family gatherings. My sister would bring her husband and her young sons for Christmas. I’d bring Dudley. Cousins would share a bed with their spouses. Dudley and I would spoon in my queen sized bed. On weekends, I’d schedule errands around his schedule. I wouldn’t want to be gone too long at a stretch. I’d make sure it wasn’t too hot when we’d go on walks or play with his racquetballs. I’d talk to him a lot. Sing to him (and change lyrics of songs to make them about him). Cuddle with him a lot. Worry and fuss over him. I loved, loved, loved that dog.
When I started dating my husband, I worried that Dudley would come between us. Mike was not used to having pets in the house - much less a dog curled up in his lap or begging for food at the dinner table. After Mike met me, he confided to one of his friends that he liked me enough to where Dudley was not necessarily a “deal-breaker”. Not a deal-breaker? My sweet Dudley?! Let me tell you something, if anyone’s the deal-breaker it’s YOU! Dudley and I are perfectly happy in our little world and don’t need any disruptions to our little routine, thank you very much.
And Dudley did not like Mike at all, either. Their first few months together were just a disaster. I likened it to a teenager getting a new step-parent and pushing the boundaries with all the angst and resentment they can muster. That was how Dudley behaved. He’d growl and snarl at Mike and whimper so I’d think Mike had just struck him (which he hadn’t… that I’m aware of). He was extremely manipulative like a child would be.
You may think I’m exaggerating but picture this: These two hate each other and then we go to my parents’ house for the dreaded, “this is my new boyfriend” weekend of humiliation and Dudley spends the entire time IN MIKE’S LAP. That’s right. He was perched there every time Mike sat down. Now this was due, in part, to the fact that my parents had several dogs and he was trying to “claim” Mike as his. But it also made it seem to others as though Mike was exaggerating or lying about all of Dudley’s childish (doggish) antics. Thankfully, after a potentially relationship-ending encounter between Dudley and some not-quite-dry cement that Mike got blamed for letting him ruin, Mike and Dudley finally made their peace and actually became little buddies in their own right.
In fact, I dare say that Mike is now more of Dudley’s caregiver than I am. When I was single and used to have to leave him in his crate when I’d go to work, I would tell him that someday he wouldn’t have to sit in a crate all day. That I’d create a better life for him somehow. I felt such guilt about having to leave him in his cramped little crate. Enter Mike who is (or, was at the time) self-employed. Dudley now gets to go to work everyday and earn a living. Mike even made him Director of Employee Complaints. Who could complain around such a cute little face? He was the office mascot. And he and Mike got to spend all day together.
Dudley has always been what you’d call a high-needs dog. From a very early age, he had major separation anxiety. It got so bad that at one point he was Prozac – human Prozac – to try and calm him down. It didn’t even make a dent in his behavior, so I considered just taking it myself so I wouldn’t worry so much about him.
In his younger years, we went through a rough stretch where he was being regularly targeted and attacked by a menacing neighborhood mockingbird. If you’ve ever had a run-in with a mockingbird, you know their chirp immediately. They are aptly named – they truly do mock with their aggressive chirps. This one would fly over to a certain point on my roof and would watch him for a while and then swoop down and fly right into him Kamikaze-style with his beak. It got so bad that as soon as we would hear his chirp, Dudley would tuck his tail and run to me, begging to be rescued and taken inside. In fact, we went though a period where Dudley wouldn’t even go outside to relieve himself anymore because he was so frightened of being hurt. I contacted Animal Control who told me that the bird was probably just protecting his nest and that they’d come over and remove the next once I was able to locate it. Okay, I would think locating the nest would be something Animal Control would do. And anyway, I’ve seen the way this bird treats my dog. I’m not going to go try and piss him off. The problem ended when we left for a week on vacation (Dudley couldn’t come – rental house). I guess the bird got bored with no one to pick on and so he flew off to find his next victim.
So, yes, Dudley has always had some special needs. But, they were cute little quirks. Things that made him uniquely Duds. And I loved him for all of the trouble he was. I still do, although my feelings for him have been changing lately. He is now 14 years old which is hard to imagine as you watch him run, swim and play. He looks much younger and is in great shape. But you are quickly reminded when he… say… pees on the bed. Or…just as an example….poops on the dining room rug so that you can smell a hint of feces as you are eating your savory meal. I know he probably can’t help it, but I already have two children. I don’t need a third one. And he now requires more care than I have the time or inclination to give him. And I feel so guilty for it. He has been my little buddy for 14 years and I am getting so annoyed with him these days. It’s not his fault. It’s his age.
I guess it's his age. but I do look at him differently now than I used to. Where he once once the center of my universe he has become a burden to me. Do I find him expendable because he’s old and no longer capable of things that he once was? My goodness - Is this how my kids will feel about me when I begin to age and become incontinent? Will they resent having to yell things to me because I can no longer hear? Will I get in trouble if I chew up the wooden blinds because I’m upset that I’m alone in the house? Will they be angry when I need a bath because I’ve rolled in something dead because it is in my nature to do so? Hopefully not. So why am I so impatient with Dudley? I really do love him and I will be crushed – a sobbing mess – when he dies. It will be awful. Mike and I get teary-eyed just talking about the fact that he won’t be around forever. To actually be faced with it will be excruciating for both of us.
When these things cross my mind, I feel guilty for being so intolerant of him and I’ll go and cuddle with him or scratch him or feed him a piece of something he likes. In the time he has left with our family, I want try and be sure he knows every day that he’s my little buddy no matter where he pees or poops. I’ve seen a lot of posts on Facebook recently where people have had to put their dogs to sleep after a long, healthy life. That will be me sooner rather than later and I don’t need to take it for granted.
Sorry to ramble, but I needed to express it. I needed to focus again on my love for that doggie. Plus, I got nervous that something tragic might happen to me and my last words to all of you would be a post about feminine odor. Thought this one was slightly more heartwarming. Here's a nice quote for you:
Dogs' lives are too short. Their only fault, really.
~Agnes Sligh Turnbull
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Yep, I'm Going There
*Guys, you probably don’t want to read this. You’ve been warned.
A lot of what this blog is, is a platform for me to use to complain about things I find annoying (which is a considerable – and ever growing - list). There is one thing that has really found it’s way under my skin (pardon the pun that you don’t really “get” now but will after reading on a little further…) lately that I have been reluctant to address but feel I can avoid no longer. That is, the amount and the content of vaginal product advertisements out there right now. Not only are these ads completely degrading and ridiculous, but they paint a picture that the only thing women do is drip, itch, and stink.
In a previous post, I talked about my fear of flying and how I feel like the whole time we are up in the air, the pilot is wrestling with the controls trying desperately to keep the plane in the air when what it really wants to do is crash. These ads make me feel the same way because they would have you believe that women have to constantly work to keep the itch, stench and general not-so-freshness at bay in order to function normally in their lives. Now, I have noted before that I am not a big feminist. I’m not even a small feminist, really. But I do think that these ads are demeaning and I am tired of being portrayed in this way. Let’s walk through a couple of examples, shall we?
First, we have a commercial where a woman is in her wedding dress with her attentive bridesmaids helping put the finishing touches on her hair on the most important day of her life. The very reasoned and comforting voice-over says something to the effect of this being the very last place you would want your feminine itch cream to stop working. My first problem with this ad is they refer to it as “feminine itch” as though that is supposed to make it sound dainty and delicate. You are talking about someone’s vagina itching, how pleasant is that? My second problem is pretty much everything else about the ad. It’s as though this woman could one day be looking at her wedding photo album and instead of recalling the cutting of the cake or the wedding kiss, she’ll be thinking, “I just wish I hadn’t had such an itchy vagina”. I can assure you that vaginal itch NEVER crossed my mind on my wedding day. Not once. Well, maybe once. But certainly not twice.
Another commercial that is loathsome to me is a tampon ad wherein there is a lady in a white bathing suit doing a flip off of the diving board. They pause her mid-spin and leave her there, upside down. She tells you that this is a time she hopes that she can rely on the strength of the tampon currently collecting what must be a geyser in her vagina. As though the tampon will fail and she will look like one of those old vaudeville clowns that shoots seltzer water at the crowd. Again, it leaves the viewer to assume that women are hyper-bleeders and that at any moment one could blow and we’d all be neck-deep in…well, you get the picture. I mean really, why should we even leave the house when it’s “our time of the month”? It’s much too risky for all involved.
Finally, the commercial that really prompted me to cover this topic in the first place is the one for Vagisil Feminine Wash. In the ad, there’s a girl who seems to be headed into a party or something. She very sheepishly opens the door to enter with a look of nervousness on her face. You see, she is self-conscious because of her “feminine odor”. And who wouldn’t be?
Let me ask this: How little are you bathing if you are concerned that merely walking into a room will reveal your palpable vaginal stench? Based on this, the next scene in the commercial should be her walking by and people collapsing into the punchbowl because the pungent smell has overtaken them. And then, her friend – the only one who hasn’t passed out due to years of building up a tolerance to it after repeated exposure – would walk over to her and say, “Sally, you really must do something about your vagina”. I don’t recall how it actually ends because I change the channel every time it comes on.
Come on, is this product really necessary? Can’t the Dove or Dial I’m currently using keep things ship-shape down there? Do I really have to have a separate cleaner for my crotch? Do men have Scrotophyl Penis Wash? No. So, why is this necessary? And who buys this stuff?
Actually, I can tell you who buys these things. And it ain’t pretty. I was in line at the grocery store behind a woman who appeared to be in her mid-sixties a few years ago. It was very troubling to me which is why I still remember it. She was purchasing two items. Bananas and douche. The check-out guy was about 18 years old and was probably thinking the same thing I was: this woman is going to go home, eat a banana, and cleanse her vagina. (At least I hope to God that’s what the bananas were for.) I have no idea why this woman felt she needed a good dousing, but apparently she did. Even if I ever needed a product like that – which, I haven’t so far after 37 years of reasonably decent hygienic practices – I would never buy it. I wouldn’t want someone to be pondering just what in the hell was wrong down there as he or she was ringing it up.
Sorry to be so gross and so negative. I just get riled up about these things. Plus, I get that way when I’m about to start my period. Everyone, seek cover.
A lot of what this blog is, is a platform for me to use to complain about things I find annoying (which is a considerable – and ever growing - list). There is one thing that has really found it’s way under my skin (pardon the pun that you don’t really “get” now but will after reading on a little further…) lately that I have been reluctant to address but feel I can avoid no longer. That is, the amount and the content of vaginal product advertisements out there right now. Not only are these ads completely degrading and ridiculous, but they paint a picture that the only thing women do is drip, itch, and stink.
In a previous post, I talked about my fear of flying and how I feel like the whole time we are up in the air, the pilot is wrestling with the controls trying desperately to keep the plane in the air when what it really wants to do is crash. These ads make me feel the same way because they would have you believe that women have to constantly work to keep the itch, stench and general not-so-freshness at bay in order to function normally in their lives. Now, I have noted before that I am not a big feminist. I’m not even a small feminist, really. But I do think that these ads are demeaning and I am tired of being portrayed in this way. Let’s walk through a couple of examples, shall we?
First, we have a commercial where a woman is in her wedding dress with her attentive bridesmaids helping put the finishing touches on her hair on the most important day of her life. The very reasoned and comforting voice-over says something to the effect of this being the very last place you would want your feminine itch cream to stop working. My first problem with this ad is they refer to it as “feminine itch” as though that is supposed to make it sound dainty and delicate. You are talking about someone’s vagina itching, how pleasant is that? My second problem is pretty much everything else about the ad. It’s as though this woman could one day be looking at her wedding photo album and instead of recalling the cutting of the cake or the wedding kiss, she’ll be thinking, “I just wish I hadn’t had such an itchy vagina”. I can assure you that vaginal itch NEVER crossed my mind on my wedding day. Not once. Well, maybe once. But certainly not twice.
Another commercial that is loathsome to me is a tampon ad wherein there is a lady in a white bathing suit doing a flip off of the diving board. They pause her mid-spin and leave her there, upside down. She tells you that this is a time she hopes that she can rely on the strength of the tampon currently collecting what must be a geyser in her vagina. As though the tampon will fail and she will look like one of those old vaudeville clowns that shoots seltzer water at the crowd. Again, it leaves the viewer to assume that women are hyper-bleeders and that at any moment one could blow and we’d all be neck-deep in…well, you get the picture. I mean really, why should we even leave the house when it’s “our time of the month”? It’s much too risky for all involved.
Finally, the commercial that really prompted me to cover this topic in the first place is the one for Vagisil Feminine Wash. In the ad, there’s a girl who seems to be headed into a party or something. She very sheepishly opens the door to enter with a look of nervousness on her face. You see, she is self-conscious because of her “feminine odor”. And who wouldn’t be?
Let me ask this: How little are you bathing if you are concerned that merely walking into a room will reveal your palpable vaginal stench? Based on this, the next scene in the commercial should be her walking by and people collapsing into the punchbowl because the pungent smell has overtaken them. And then, her friend – the only one who hasn’t passed out due to years of building up a tolerance to it after repeated exposure – would walk over to her and say, “Sally, you really must do something about your vagina”. I don’t recall how it actually ends because I change the channel every time it comes on.
Come on, is this product really necessary? Can’t the Dove or Dial I’m currently using keep things ship-shape down there? Do I really have to have a separate cleaner for my crotch? Do men have Scrotophyl Penis Wash? No. So, why is this necessary? And who buys this stuff?
Actually, I can tell you who buys these things. And it ain’t pretty. I was in line at the grocery store behind a woman who appeared to be in her mid-sixties a few years ago. It was very troubling to me which is why I still remember it. She was purchasing two items. Bananas and douche. The check-out guy was about 18 years old and was probably thinking the same thing I was: this woman is going to go home, eat a banana, and cleanse her vagina. (At least I hope to God that’s what the bananas were for.) I have no idea why this woman felt she needed a good dousing, but apparently she did. Even if I ever needed a product like that – which, I haven’t so far after 37 years of reasonably decent hygienic practices – I would never buy it. I wouldn’t want someone to be pondering just what in the hell was wrong down there as he or she was ringing it up.
Sorry to be so gross and so negative. I just get riled up about these things. Plus, I get that way when I’m about to start my period. Everyone, seek cover.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Kneel Before Zod
For those of you who do not recognize the title of this post, you are either A. too young; B. too cool; or C. both too young and too cool. I however, know exactly what it means since my sister and I proudly work it into at least one conversation every other week. It is a very powerful line from *one of the best action movies ever made, Superman II. I use it as my title today in order to prove how awesome I am and to engage in a little foreshadowing for how my kids will turn out.
Yes, I am slowly ruining my children. I am exposing them to things that I think are funny or interesting or cool and I see them emulating that and it scares the crap out of me. You see, I am almost 38 years old. I can go around quoting Superman II and it could be perceived as ** "funny" or "hipster" or "hey, she's SO cool she can quote a lame-ass movie and still be okay with herself". But if my kids watch, say, *** one of the all-time greatest musical movies ever - The Pirates of Penzance - and walk around singing the songs, the other kids will simply think they are weird. And will most likely stop playing with them.
You know, the older we get, the more comfortable we are in our skin. We know ourselves better. We care less what others think of us. We are fine with our little weird tastes, habits and idiosyncrasies. We are even fine if someone else thinks we're weird because - HEY - maybe they're weird. They don't sing folk songs by The Kingston Trio at the top of their lungs in their car??? What's their problem?!! But when we are kids, we want desperately to fit in. Even before we understand what it means to fit in, we want acceptance from others. We want the same bow so-and-so was wearing in her hair. We don't want to be ****the last person picked for the kickball team. We want others to like us and think we're neat.
That's where this issue with my children begins to get complicated. You see, I have a fairly juvenile sense of humor. I will do anything to make my girls laugh even if I have to talk about boogers and poo-poo to do it. You know they march into their school and tell people what their mother has taught them. They don't dare mention that I also taught them how snap their fingers or to make a ponytail. It's the idiotic things I do that most likely make it to the playground. I dance around like a robot when I give them their weight-gain shake they have to drink so they won't be forever saddled with my childhood body. They laugh. I continue to do it. They have picked up on this little routine and now dance the same way I do. They don't realize they are being taught to dance by a complete moron.
I like Bugs Bunny cartoons. They now watch them, and quote them, religiously. They are really funny - to people in their 60s. Seriously, how many kids nowadays watch those cartoons? Few if any. They are classic. Utter ridiculousness. My sister and I still quote the silly lines to this day. You know what kids are quoting today? Fart jokes. But, I won't let my kids say "fart". We don't fart in the McCallie household. We toot. All of their friends can say "fart". My kids want desperately to say "fart" and will even say it in a hushed tone so I can't hear it. But they know they aren't supposed to and so they usually go with "toot". I fear the labeling of them as weirdos has already begun.
Getting back to Pirates of Penzance, Kate has now proudly proclaimed on several different occasions that this is her favorite movie. MY GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE TO HER? I love the movie - grew up watching it - and the music is great. And yes, my sister and I still quote it. But no ***** self-respecting person admits this. And certainly no child should admit to this. I am so embarrassed for her that I have begun a process of manipulation to convince her that Despicable Me is actually her favorite. I think it's rated PG (I'm wanting her to be the "bad girl") and it has Steve Carell in it. What could be cooler than that? But no, she insists that Pirates of Penzance is her favorite. And really, what 5 year old wouldn't love the song stylings of Mr. Rex Smith and the incomparable Angela Landsbury? Kevin Kline and Linda Rondstadt are also in it which ******slightly raises the cool factor, but geez, it's still Angela Landsbury! I don't think my kids could identify Justin Beiber or even Hannah Montana. But that lady from Murder She Wrote? They know her. Rex Smith, who hosted Solid Gold in the 80s alongside Marilyn McCoo? Yep, they know him. Kate sings the songs and discusses the various predicaments of the characters all the time. You know the kids on the playground are thinking, "who the hell is the Pirate King?".
And then there's Meg. She is slightly better off because she doesn't emulate things that I do to the degree that her sister does. But I'm afraid I have warped her a bit, too. A good example is this coming Halloween. My kids have been talking about what costumes they want to wear for months now. They both love the movie Annie (Starring Aileen Quinn. You know, Aileen Quinn. Hello? Anyone?) so I suggested to Meg that she go trick or treating as Annie. She happily agreed and now there is no talking her out of it. That's great and all, except it was totally my idea... from 1982!! Other kids will be going as Jessie form Toy Story with their hair braided and their cute cowgirl boots. Other kids will dress up in a pretty dress with long, white gloves and a tiara and go as a princess. Other kids will wear pretty, sheer wings and have glitter in their hair and go as a fairy. Meg will be clomping around the neighborhood wearing a big, red afro.
So what are some other things my children have to *******look forward to? Well, my sister and I happily quote Superman II (as well as the original Superman of course!), The Pirates of Penzance, Looney Tunes, Annie, and scores of other embarrassing, ridiculous movies pretty much EVERY time were speak to or see each other. We do quote a lot of Saturday Night Live, but before you go thinking that somehow ********redeems us, you should know that a lot of it is from the early 80s when people like Tim Kazurinsky were on. (In case you are wondering, her kids are probably no better off than my own. My apologies to them as well as to my kids who are doomed to turn out just like me.)
While I am doling out apologies, I obviously owe a big one to my sister whom I have outed as being as gigantic a geek as I am. I will have to now throw myself at her mercy. I hope she doesn't hit me with a stern, "KNEEEEEL BEFORE ZODDDDD"!!!!
Anyway, if you or your children come in contact with either of my girls, please do your best to undo some of the monumental damage I have done. Please put them in touch with the right movies, music, dancing and popular culture for a child their age. Please intervene as you see fit and they will thank you for it one day when they realize they have forgotten all of the words to "A Rollicking Band of Pirates We".
* No one has ever called Superman II one of the best action, or any other type of movie, ever made.
** It is actually perceived as none of these.
*** The Pirates of Penzance has never been labeled as one of the all-time greatest movie musicals ever. Ever.
**** Say hello to the last person picked to be on the kickball team. :(
***** I have no self-respect.
****** Not nearly enough.
******* Dread.
******** As if anything could.
Yes, I am slowly ruining my children. I am exposing them to things that I think are funny or interesting or cool and I see them emulating that and it scares the crap out of me. You see, I am almost 38 years old. I can go around quoting Superman II and it could be perceived as ** "funny" or "hipster" or "hey, she's SO cool she can quote a lame-ass movie and still be okay with herself". But if my kids watch, say, *** one of the all-time greatest musical movies ever - The Pirates of Penzance - and walk around singing the songs, the other kids will simply think they are weird. And will most likely stop playing with them.
You know, the older we get, the more comfortable we are in our skin. We know ourselves better. We care less what others think of us. We are fine with our little weird tastes, habits and idiosyncrasies. We are even fine if someone else thinks we're weird because - HEY - maybe they're weird. They don't sing folk songs by The Kingston Trio at the top of their lungs in their car??? What's their problem?!! But when we are kids, we want desperately to fit in. Even before we understand what it means to fit in, we want acceptance from others. We want the same bow so-and-so was wearing in her hair. We don't want to be ****the last person picked for the kickball team. We want others to like us and think we're neat.
That's where this issue with my children begins to get complicated. You see, I have a fairly juvenile sense of humor. I will do anything to make my girls laugh even if I have to talk about boogers and poo-poo to do it. You know they march into their school and tell people what their mother has taught them. They don't dare mention that I also taught them how snap their fingers or to make a ponytail. It's the idiotic things I do that most likely make it to the playground. I dance around like a robot when I give them their weight-gain shake they have to drink so they won't be forever saddled with my childhood body. They laugh. I continue to do it. They have picked up on this little routine and now dance the same way I do. They don't realize they are being taught to dance by a complete moron.
I like Bugs Bunny cartoons. They now watch them, and quote them, religiously. They are really funny - to people in their 60s. Seriously, how many kids nowadays watch those cartoons? Few if any. They are classic. Utter ridiculousness. My sister and I still quote the silly lines to this day. You know what kids are quoting today? Fart jokes. But, I won't let my kids say "fart". We don't fart in the McCallie household. We toot. All of their friends can say "fart". My kids want desperately to say "fart" and will even say it in a hushed tone so I can't hear it. But they know they aren't supposed to and so they usually go with "toot". I fear the labeling of them as weirdos has already begun.
Getting back to Pirates of Penzance, Kate has now proudly proclaimed on several different occasions that this is her favorite movie. MY GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE TO HER? I love the movie - grew up watching it - and the music is great. And yes, my sister and I still quote it. But no ***** self-respecting person admits this. And certainly no child should admit to this. I am so embarrassed for her that I have begun a process of manipulation to convince her that Despicable Me is actually her favorite. I think it's rated PG (I'm wanting her to be the "bad girl") and it has Steve Carell in it. What could be cooler than that? But no, she insists that Pirates of Penzance is her favorite. And really, what 5 year old wouldn't love the song stylings of Mr. Rex Smith and the incomparable Angela Landsbury? Kevin Kline and Linda Rondstadt are also in it which ******slightly raises the cool factor, but geez, it's still Angela Landsbury! I don't think my kids could identify Justin Beiber or even Hannah Montana. But that lady from Murder She Wrote? They know her. Rex Smith, who hosted Solid Gold in the 80s alongside Marilyn McCoo? Yep, they know him. Kate sings the songs and discusses the various predicaments of the characters all the time. You know the kids on the playground are thinking, "who the hell is the Pirate King?".
And then there's Meg. She is slightly better off because she doesn't emulate things that I do to the degree that her sister does. But I'm afraid I have warped her a bit, too. A good example is this coming Halloween. My kids have been talking about what costumes they want to wear for months now. They both love the movie Annie (Starring Aileen Quinn. You know, Aileen Quinn. Hello? Anyone?) so I suggested to Meg that she go trick or treating as Annie. She happily agreed and now there is no talking her out of it. That's great and all, except it was totally my idea... from 1982!! Other kids will be going as Jessie form Toy Story with their hair braided and their cute cowgirl boots. Other kids will dress up in a pretty dress with long, white gloves and a tiara and go as a princess. Other kids will wear pretty, sheer wings and have glitter in their hair and go as a fairy. Meg will be clomping around the neighborhood wearing a big, red afro.
So what are some other things my children have to *******look forward to? Well, my sister and I happily quote Superman II (as well as the original Superman of course!), The Pirates of Penzance, Looney Tunes, Annie, and scores of other embarrassing, ridiculous movies pretty much EVERY time were speak to or see each other. We do quote a lot of Saturday Night Live, but before you go thinking that somehow ********redeems us, you should know that a lot of it is from the early 80s when people like Tim Kazurinsky were on. (In case you are wondering, her kids are probably no better off than my own. My apologies to them as well as to my kids who are doomed to turn out just like me.)
While I am doling out apologies, I obviously owe a big one to my sister whom I have outed as being as gigantic a geek as I am. I will have to now throw myself at her mercy. I hope she doesn't hit me with a stern, "KNEEEEEL BEFORE ZODDDDD"!!!!
Anyway, if you or your children come in contact with either of my girls, please do your best to undo some of the monumental damage I have done. Please put them in touch with the right movies, music, dancing and popular culture for a child their age. Please intervene as you see fit and they will thank you for it one day when they realize they have forgotten all of the words to "A Rollicking Band of Pirates We".
* No one has ever called Superman II one of the best action, or any other type of movie, ever made.
** It is actually perceived as none of these.
*** The Pirates of Penzance has never been labeled as one of the all-time greatest movie musicals ever. Ever.
**** Say hello to the last person picked to be on the kickball team. :(
***** I have no self-respect.
****** Not nearly enough.
******* Dread.
******** As if anything could.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Questionnaire
The other day I was flipping channels as I often do when I should be cleaning my house or interacting with my children. I came across Inside The Actors Studio – a program which I love hosted by James Lipton whom I also love. Mr. Lipton has always seemed to be a neat guy, but it wasn’t until his hilarious turns on Arrested Development (R.I.P., sniff) and Late Night with Conan O’Brien (call me, Sweet CoCo!!) that I discovered how hilarious he is. Of course, many people only know him from Will Ferrell’s spot-on impersonation of him on Saturday Night Live, but I’ve watched his show several times over the years when he’s had interesting guests appear.
My favorite part of his show is not the dreaded Q&A part at the end. I cringe whenever they hand a microphone to someone to ask someone else who is infinitely more intelligent than they are a question. My husband and I went to a John Irving appearance and reading at the Ryman Hall in Nashville a few years back (gosh, that makes me sound so intellectual and stuff) and he (my husband, not John Irving) and I both wanted to just crawl under the seat every time some tattooed, pierced goth girl got up and asked him what advice he’d give a new writer starting out. I don’t know why, I just think the questions people ask end up sounding juvenile and poser-y (it’s a word, I swear). I feel the same way when the ITAS students introduce themselves (I’m a third-year film student…) and ask questions about “the craft”, etc. I don’t want to listen to them. I want to listen to Kevin Spacey, Morgan Freeman and Tina Fey.
No, my favorite part of the show comes right before the Q&A starts. It is a 10 question questionnaire tailored after the Proust Questionnaire (whatever the hell that is). You know each guest has rehearsed his or her answers to these questions prior to coming on the show because Lipton asks them on every episode. They always have these profound answers – actors can be so smug. So, it’s a little annoying that their answers are not spontaneous, but I still like listening to them. I have often wondered how I would respond to the questions. I don’t think I’ll ever be on ITAS for a lot of reasons the main one being that I am not a famous actor. But that doesn’t mean I can’t answer these questions for you, my adoring fan(s). So here goes. And I haven’t rehearsed these answers, I swear!!!
Q1. What is your favorite word?
A1. My favorite word is most likely obsolete by now. It is tocadiscos, the Spanish word for record player. (If you look at the word, it is comprised of two separate words – toca, which comes from tocar which means to play. Then there’s discos, which are records or, I guess now, CDs.) I like this word simply because of how much fun it is to pronounce. If you don’t lose about a tablespoon of saliva when you say it, you’re not trying hard enough. And I always say it as a plural when I say it (which admittedly isn’t very often) which is los tocadiscos. Here is how you want to pronounce it:
First, “Los”: You should drop your chin a little bit and kind of form a square shape with your mouth. Your eyebrows should be furrowed (you’re not angry, you’re just getting a good, guttural drawl going) and your teeth should be showing. You reach deep within yourself and say "lllloooossssss!" And you say it with conviction.
Then there’s “tocadiscos”: You still have the furrowed brows (those are important). The Spanish “T” can sometimes sound like a “TH” and you need to try and get somewhere between the T and the TH when you start off. It packs more punch that way. So, with your jaw semi-clenched, you say “th/tohka”. Of course, following the toca is the best part – the discos! With a little more emphasis than is necessary, you launch into the deeeeeskohs part. It is important to continue to form your mouth into a square during this part as well. And you should try and say it fast. It just comes out sounding more fierce if you say it fast.
So there it is. My favorite word. Tocadiscos.
Q2. What is your least favorite word?
A2. Usually when a celebrity responds to this question, he or she will say the typical bleeding-heart “oppression”, “suffering” or “intolerance”. Mine isn’t quite that deep I’m sorry to say. No, my least favorite word is smear. I just think it sounds gross. Nothing pleasant is ever smeared. If I write a book someday, I’ll never describe someone smearing lipstick on her plump, supple lips. She will have to apply it. Or, God forbid, simply put it on. No smearing. Yuck.
A runner-up would be haberdasher. This isn’t an offensive or even gross word. I just don’t like it. It just sounds so Old English. So snooty. And where does a haberdasher work? A haberdashery? I guess so. I don’t like it.
Q3. What turns you on?
A3. I don’t think this question is meant to have a sexual connotation so, much to your relief, I will not answer it from that perspective. Instead, I’ll assume it is getting at the things in life that interest you and/or make you happy. So, what turns me on is humor. A sense of humor says so much about a person. One, it says that you don’t take yourself too seriously which means you’re generally pleasant to be around. Two, it says that you are reasonably intelligent. People who don’t “get the joke” are not clever or intuitive and so they are not interesting. Three, it makes you more fun to be around than people who aren’t humorous. I’ve met people who aren’t funny. There's a word for people like that. Bland. Can you imagine not laughing everyday? What do these people talk about? Who falls in love with them? What stories do they tell?
Everyone in my family (husband, children, parents, siblings and extended family) is funny. Most of my friends are funny. That’s not an accident. I purposely seek funny people out with whom to surround myself. Life is too hard and too short not to find reasons to laugh.
Q4. What turns you off?
A4. Pretty much all of my previous posts have covered this. My quick answers would be Reality TV, Katherine Heigl, Donald Trump’s hair, Atlanta traffic, anyone with the last name Kardashian, Organic carrot juice with fresh ground ginger, stupid songs, and Kate Gosselin.
Q5. What sound or noise do you love?
A5. I love the sound of my kids cracking up. We laugh a lot in our house. We act silly. We dance around. But when my kids get really tickled at something and just get into a laugh of complete abandon, it cracks me up and warms my heart.
That’s the nice answer. The weird one is that I love the sound of a good congestion-y cough. Love it. I realize that the sound I am hearing is the loosening of phlegm, but the heart wants what it wants. I get so disgusted every time I have one of those dry, irritating coughs. What’s the point? If I can’t hear that exquisite crackling sound it is an utter disappointment. Kids get those good, wet coughs. As much as I hate for my kids to feel bad, I do enjoy listening to that rasp. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Q6. What sound or noise do you hate?
A6. A dry cough, of course. Just a total letdown. But also, a really thick New York accent. Nothing against NY. It’s just such an ugly dialect. I know people think a Southern accent makes people sound stupid (which it does and which many of us are), but a Bronx-ian accent makes someone sound like a shrill, know-it-all, obnoxious ass. Mike and I were in Chicago walking down a crowded street behind these two ladies who were obviously from NY. They were talking about some girl named Ellie or Allie (couldn’t really tell). At one point, one of the ladies, disgusted with the conversation, turned to her friend and said, “Well, theeeaat’s just EEEAAllie. She’s sucha howahh.” (For those of you who need a translation – That’s just E/Allie. She’s such a whore.) Not only is the accent grating, but people outside of the south also are a lot louder and talk more freely than we do here. If I were calling someone a whore, I would do it under my breath and not broadcast it so that everyone on Michigan Avenue could hear me. I would say it, of course. I’m not above that. But I would say it so only my friend would be able to hear it. And since when does the word “whore” have two syllables?!
Q7. What is your favorite curse word?
A7. Motherfucker. Hands down. And I used to NEVER say the “F” word. I thought it was the worst word you could say. Which it is – at least, one of the worst. I thought it was so dirty and so disgusting. And then you add the “mother” to it and it just completely morphs into the worst and most demeaning put-down ever. But, I’m afraid this word has crept into my vocabulary over the years because a few of my friends were able to show me the joys of using it. It just perfectly sums up what you need to say. I use it as an expression if something isn’t going my way. Sometimes I’ll refer to someone as that but usually only if I am joking. Like, I’ll refer to someone’s grandfather as that. It just sounds hilarious to accuse an 87 year old person of being a motherfucker.
I don’t know where the word came from or how it first got its start. You have to think that when a language is developed, one person uses a word and then other people hear it and like it and so they start using it. I’m not sure who the first person was to use the word motherfucker. I imagine it was probably a caveman who was trying to bang out a wheel with some primitive tools and hit his thumb and said, “Well Mo-ther-Fucker!”.
Q8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
A8. A writer for SNL, Conan, or 30 Rock. How awesome would it be to be part of that synergy? Can you imagine how much fun those people have? Can you imagine sitting around a room and coming up with a concept and then playing off of each other trying to make it better and funnier. (I’m not at all sure that this is how the writing process takes place but in my mind, this is how it goes.) That is what I do every day of my life. Wouldn’t it be awesome to get paid for doing that? I’m not funny on my own. I need people to play off of. I need a good audience. That’s why all of my friends are funny. That’s why I enjoy being with my family. They make me funnier. I would love to be funny and write funny things for a living.
Q9. What profession would you not like to do?
A9. Anything in the medical profession; particularly nursing. Nurses have to wipe bottoms and clean up vomit. I do that now for two little girls that I love more than life itself. I would never, ever want to do this for a stranger. And next time you’re in Wal-Mart or the airport or anyplace where large numbers of people gather, take a look around. These are the bottoms nurses are having to wipe. I know that I keep my bottom relatively clean. I can’t say with any confidence that the dude standing in line in front of me at the DMV with 2/3 of his crack peeking out from above the waistband of his pants does the same.
Q10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
A10. This is the hardest one for me to answer. I really don’t know what I’d want Him to say. I’d need to start off by saying, “Sorry I wasn’t really sure this place existed”. I’m afraid He would say, “This is a mix-up. You’re supposed to join the rest of your friends and family who have gone before you in hell.” But, if it does exist and I was forgiven for having doubts, I’d hope He would say, “You were a good person, a good wife and a good mother and you made people feel good about themselves.” I hope I treat people with kindness and sensitivity and help them to laugh. I hope it makes a difference to the people I have in my life. I hope He says, “The people in your life whom you loved, loved you in return”. I also hope He shows me over to where my loved ones have been since they’ve been there. I’d hug my Gannie first.
So there’s my list. It was harder than I thought it would be which is why I am convinced now that all of the guests who come on the show practice it over and over before their appearance. Next time a hoity-toity actor gives a neatly thought out answer, I’ll know that they likely spent hours going over their responses in order to perfect them and sound pompous. Those motherfuckers.
My favorite part of his show is not the dreaded Q&A part at the end. I cringe whenever they hand a microphone to someone to ask someone else who is infinitely more intelligent than they are a question. My husband and I went to a John Irving appearance and reading at the Ryman Hall in Nashville a few years back (gosh, that makes me sound so intellectual and stuff) and he (my husband, not John Irving) and I both wanted to just crawl under the seat every time some tattooed, pierced goth girl got up and asked him what advice he’d give a new writer starting out. I don’t know why, I just think the questions people ask end up sounding juvenile and poser-y (it’s a word, I swear). I feel the same way when the ITAS students introduce themselves (I’m a third-year film student…) and ask questions about “the craft”, etc. I don’t want to listen to them. I want to listen to Kevin Spacey, Morgan Freeman and Tina Fey.
No, my favorite part of the show comes right before the Q&A starts. It is a 10 question questionnaire tailored after the Proust Questionnaire (whatever the hell that is). You know each guest has rehearsed his or her answers to these questions prior to coming on the show because Lipton asks them on every episode. They always have these profound answers – actors can be so smug. So, it’s a little annoying that their answers are not spontaneous, but I still like listening to them. I have often wondered how I would respond to the questions. I don’t think I’ll ever be on ITAS for a lot of reasons the main one being that I am not a famous actor. But that doesn’t mean I can’t answer these questions for you, my adoring fan(s). So here goes. And I haven’t rehearsed these answers, I swear!!!
Q1. What is your favorite word?
A1. My favorite word is most likely obsolete by now. It is tocadiscos, the Spanish word for record player. (If you look at the word, it is comprised of two separate words – toca, which comes from tocar which means to play. Then there’s discos, which are records or, I guess now, CDs.) I like this word simply because of how much fun it is to pronounce. If you don’t lose about a tablespoon of saliva when you say it, you’re not trying hard enough. And I always say it as a plural when I say it (which admittedly isn’t very often) which is los tocadiscos. Here is how you want to pronounce it:
First, “Los”: You should drop your chin a little bit and kind of form a square shape with your mouth. Your eyebrows should be furrowed (you’re not angry, you’re just getting a good, guttural drawl going) and your teeth should be showing. You reach deep within yourself and say "lllloooossssss!" And you say it with conviction.
Then there’s “tocadiscos”: You still have the furrowed brows (those are important). The Spanish “T” can sometimes sound like a “TH” and you need to try and get somewhere between the T and the TH when you start off. It packs more punch that way. So, with your jaw semi-clenched, you say “th/tohka”. Of course, following the toca is the best part – the discos! With a little more emphasis than is necessary, you launch into the deeeeeskohs part. It is important to continue to form your mouth into a square during this part as well. And you should try and say it fast. It just comes out sounding more fierce if you say it fast.
So there it is. My favorite word. Tocadiscos.
Q2. What is your least favorite word?
A2. Usually when a celebrity responds to this question, he or she will say the typical bleeding-heart “oppression”, “suffering” or “intolerance”. Mine isn’t quite that deep I’m sorry to say. No, my least favorite word is smear. I just think it sounds gross. Nothing pleasant is ever smeared. If I write a book someday, I’ll never describe someone smearing lipstick on her plump, supple lips. She will have to apply it. Or, God forbid, simply put it on. No smearing. Yuck.
A runner-up would be haberdasher. This isn’t an offensive or even gross word. I just don’t like it. It just sounds so Old English. So snooty. And where does a haberdasher work? A haberdashery? I guess so. I don’t like it.
Q3. What turns you on?
A3. I don’t think this question is meant to have a sexual connotation so, much to your relief, I will not answer it from that perspective. Instead, I’ll assume it is getting at the things in life that interest you and/or make you happy. So, what turns me on is humor. A sense of humor says so much about a person. One, it says that you don’t take yourself too seriously which means you’re generally pleasant to be around. Two, it says that you are reasonably intelligent. People who don’t “get the joke” are not clever or intuitive and so they are not interesting. Three, it makes you more fun to be around than people who aren’t humorous. I’ve met people who aren’t funny. There's a word for people like that. Bland. Can you imagine not laughing everyday? What do these people talk about? Who falls in love with them? What stories do they tell?
Everyone in my family (husband, children, parents, siblings and extended family) is funny. Most of my friends are funny. That’s not an accident. I purposely seek funny people out with whom to surround myself. Life is too hard and too short not to find reasons to laugh.
Q4. What turns you off?
A4. Pretty much all of my previous posts have covered this. My quick answers would be Reality TV, Katherine Heigl, Donald Trump’s hair, Atlanta traffic, anyone with the last name Kardashian, Organic carrot juice with fresh ground ginger, stupid songs, and Kate Gosselin.
Q5. What sound or noise do you love?
A5. I love the sound of my kids cracking up. We laugh a lot in our house. We act silly. We dance around. But when my kids get really tickled at something and just get into a laugh of complete abandon, it cracks me up and warms my heart.
That’s the nice answer. The weird one is that I love the sound of a good congestion-y cough. Love it. I realize that the sound I am hearing is the loosening of phlegm, but the heart wants what it wants. I get so disgusted every time I have one of those dry, irritating coughs. What’s the point? If I can’t hear that exquisite crackling sound it is an utter disappointment. Kids get those good, wet coughs. As much as I hate for my kids to feel bad, I do enjoy listening to that rasp. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Q6. What sound or noise do you hate?
A6. A dry cough, of course. Just a total letdown. But also, a really thick New York accent. Nothing against NY. It’s just such an ugly dialect. I know people think a Southern accent makes people sound stupid (which it does and which many of us are), but a Bronx-ian accent makes someone sound like a shrill, know-it-all, obnoxious ass. Mike and I were in Chicago walking down a crowded street behind these two ladies who were obviously from NY. They were talking about some girl named Ellie or Allie (couldn’t really tell). At one point, one of the ladies, disgusted with the conversation, turned to her friend and said, “Well, theeeaat’s just EEEAAllie. She’s sucha howahh.” (For those of you who need a translation – That’s just E/Allie. She’s such a whore.) Not only is the accent grating, but people outside of the south also are a lot louder and talk more freely than we do here. If I were calling someone a whore, I would do it under my breath and not broadcast it so that everyone on Michigan Avenue could hear me. I would say it, of course. I’m not above that. But I would say it so only my friend would be able to hear it. And since when does the word “whore” have two syllables?!
Q7. What is your favorite curse word?
A7. Motherfucker. Hands down. And I used to NEVER say the “F” word. I thought it was the worst word you could say. Which it is – at least, one of the worst. I thought it was so dirty and so disgusting. And then you add the “mother” to it and it just completely morphs into the worst and most demeaning put-down ever. But, I’m afraid this word has crept into my vocabulary over the years because a few of my friends were able to show me the joys of using it. It just perfectly sums up what you need to say. I use it as an expression if something isn’t going my way. Sometimes I’ll refer to someone as that but usually only if I am joking. Like, I’ll refer to someone’s grandfather as that. It just sounds hilarious to accuse an 87 year old person of being a motherfucker.
I don’t know where the word came from or how it first got its start. You have to think that when a language is developed, one person uses a word and then other people hear it and like it and so they start using it. I’m not sure who the first person was to use the word motherfucker. I imagine it was probably a caveman who was trying to bang out a wheel with some primitive tools and hit his thumb and said, “Well Mo-ther-Fucker!”.
Q8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
A8. A writer for SNL, Conan, or 30 Rock. How awesome would it be to be part of that synergy? Can you imagine how much fun those people have? Can you imagine sitting around a room and coming up with a concept and then playing off of each other trying to make it better and funnier. (I’m not at all sure that this is how the writing process takes place but in my mind, this is how it goes.) That is what I do every day of my life. Wouldn’t it be awesome to get paid for doing that? I’m not funny on my own. I need people to play off of. I need a good audience. That’s why all of my friends are funny. That’s why I enjoy being with my family. They make me funnier. I would love to be funny and write funny things for a living.
Q9. What profession would you not like to do?
A9. Anything in the medical profession; particularly nursing. Nurses have to wipe bottoms and clean up vomit. I do that now for two little girls that I love more than life itself. I would never, ever want to do this for a stranger. And next time you’re in Wal-Mart or the airport or anyplace where large numbers of people gather, take a look around. These are the bottoms nurses are having to wipe. I know that I keep my bottom relatively clean. I can’t say with any confidence that the dude standing in line in front of me at the DMV with 2/3 of his crack peeking out from above the waistband of his pants does the same.
Q10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
A10. This is the hardest one for me to answer. I really don’t know what I’d want Him to say. I’d need to start off by saying, “Sorry I wasn’t really sure this place existed”. I’m afraid He would say, “This is a mix-up. You’re supposed to join the rest of your friends and family who have gone before you in hell.” But, if it does exist and I was forgiven for having doubts, I’d hope He would say, “You were a good person, a good wife and a good mother and you made people feel good about themselves.” I hope I treat people with kindness and sensitivity and help them to laugh. I hope it makes a difference to the people I have in my life. I hope He says, “The people in your life whom you loved, loved you in return”. I also hope He shows me over to where my loved ones have been since they’ve been there. I’d hug my Gannie first.
So there’s my list. It was harder than I thought it would be which is why I am convinced now that all of the guests who come on the show practice it over and over before their appearance. Next time a hoity-toity actor gives a neatly thought out answer, I’ll know that they likely spent hours going over their responses in order to perfect them and sound pompous. Those motherfuckers.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
WHY; Vol. 2
So, it’s been about a year since my first WHY post, so I thought perhaps I should revisit the idea. What I did was pose some questions that had been gnawing at me to see if you, my loyal reader(s?), could help explain them. I got 5 comments out of it – sadly that’s a personal best for me – so I thought perhaps you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. No? Well, let’s try it again anyway.
1. WHY is it that Donald Trump is trying to run for President?! Does he really believe he has a shot in hell of being elected? He’s not used to people telling him no. How would that go over in dealing with Congress? Other world leaders? Would he simply “fire” Ghadhafi and expect all of those problems to go away? He’s not qualified to be our president. He’s not reasonable enough to be our president. And if, for no other reason, I would not vote for him because he doesn’t have sense enough to abandon that ridiculous hair. That, more than anything else, proves he is incapable of leading this country.
2. WHY are people buying tickets to Charlie Sheen’s Torpedo of Truth tour? WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?? It is bad enough that we must be kept abreast of his every move via the media, but for people to actually be interested in what this man has to say – it’s ludicrous! Last year I was ranting about being disgusted that Kate Gosselin was all over the place and that we were all expected to care about her. The interest in her has (thankfully) waned, but unfortunately has been replaced by interested in him. And he’s CRAZY. Or high. Or both. We shouldn’t listen to him. We should shut him up and hope that someone gets him some help. The fact that Japan could have a tsunami that could kill thousands of people and he would make the cover of People Magazine is a sad, sad commentary on what we think is worth our time and attention.
3. WHY is every song now sung by someone and “feat.” someone else? Half of the top 10 songs on I-Tunes are sung by one artist but “feat.” someone usually with a completely ridiculous name. All these hip-hop artists have the most absurd names. Big Boi, Mista F.A.B, Sista Soulja, Ludacris (which I actually think is clever since his actual name is Chris), Acafool (that is not a typo), Sticky Fingaz, Flo’Rida (he’s actually from Florida! Who knew?!) Killa Priest, etc. Then there’s C-Murder. This guy’s not even trying. No clever innuendo. No double entendre. He just goes straight to C-Murder. Perhaps we don't have long to wait before becoming acquainted with MC-Drugs or J-Gun Violence. C-Murder?! That’s not clever at all. It’s not a witty pun. It’s not a krazy spelling. It doesn’t mean anything – just… C-Murder. Sounds like a charming young man. Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, C-Murder.
I think these names are so silly and in a lot of cases so violent. Their names need to evoke more positive images than murder and mayhem - especially during these tough times that are upon us. Here are some of my suggestions:
Skippy Meadows
C-Kittens
Chair I Tee
Mista Rogers
Sunny Fancypants
Anything but C-Murder. What a downer!
4. WHY is everyone so fascinated by the upcoming royal wedding? Newsflash people: They are not our royal family. And monarchies are silly and archaic anyway. What do we care about Prince William and Kate Middleton? I hope they have a happy marriage, but I hope that for anyone getting married. Aside from that, I don’t much care about it. I don’t want to know her wedding workout regimen. I don’t want to buy a commemorative plate with their faces on it. I don’t want to win a replica of her ring. I don’t plan to watch it on TV. I plan to wake up that day and go through my normal routine. My life won’t change when they get married. Will yours? And if it will, what is wrong with you?!
5. WHY do I always have to pee ten times before going to bed? I think it’s a mental thing – this irrational fear that as soon as I get comfortable and on the verge of sleep, I’ll have to pee. So instead of ever getting comfortable, I just have to get up and pee several times. It also happens whenever I go snow skiing. I’ll get all bundled up in my 17 layers of clothing and then have to take it all off (or pull it down – whatever) and go to the bathroom. Very annoying. Another weird fact about my bladder (since you asked and all…) is that whenever I am hiding from someone, it instantly makes me have to pee. Not that I hide from people regularly (that kind of makes me sound like a freak) but even as a kid if I was playing hide and seek, I would go hide in the closet and almost wet my pants. It happens today if I am playing with the kids. Does that make me weird? Have I over-shared?
6. WHY is it that when I give up chips (except for chips in a Mexican restaurant – I have to have an “out”) for Lent as I have done this year, every room I walk into smells like Fritos? Or Cheetos? Or Doritos? Or tasty Sour Cream and Onion Ruffles? Or Barbecue Lays? Or Funyuns? I can smell these beautiful smells everywhere and yet, I cannot indulge. After Easter, I know it will go away and every room will begin smelling like stale breath and/or feet again. Isn’t that how it always works?
7. WHY are so many people still being diagnosed with and, in many cases, dying of cancer? One of Mike’s friends has Stage 4 cancer; one of my friends has Stage 2 colon cancer. Two of my work friends have very close family members who are incurable. And, of course, you all know a person or people who have it or have had it. So many young people are being diagnosed, too. What is going on? And all of these people who are stealing identities and creating super viruses that can make your computer explode – what would happen if they used their brains for good instead of evil? Might we be closer to a cure if the number of bad people out there made choices to do something positive for someone else? I hate people who are smart enough to make a positive contribution and then do the opposite. I hate them.
8. WHO (oops! Not a WHY question, but important nonetheless) creates all of the Apps (I hate that word, but I’d sound like a geek if I called them Applications) available for your I-Phone? Who has that kind of time? Who thought, “Dammit! I’m going to create a game where you use a slingshot to hurl a bunch of pissed off birds toward some pigs so they can blow them up!” We haven’t cured cancer but we have Angry Birds. Not that Angry Birds is completely unnecessary. It is nice to have some mindless entertainment. But who thinks of these things? I have no idea why these things are necessary, but apparently to millions of people (myself included) they are. How did we ever survive before Doodle Jump?
9. WHY do people seem to always create a walkway right in front of me when I’m standing in a line? It never fails. If I am in a large crowd and people are trying to push their way through, they will always walk over to where I’m standing and squeeze in between me and whoever is standing next to me. I don’t know if it’s because I’m fairly small and people assume they can just bulldoze right past me and I won’t be able to do much about it, but whatever it is, it’s annoying. I will purposely not make eye contact with people because I know they’ll think it gives them license to use me as a walkway. Even without acknowledging me, they’ll still choose either right in front of me or right in back of me to make their way to wherever it is they are going. Every time.
10. WHY are so many air traffic controllers falling asleep on the job right now? I work for a manufacturing company. If you are caught sleeping, you get fired. There’s just too much machinery and too many dangers to yourself and to others if you sleep. The odds of a person falling asleep and something horrible happening are obviously extremely low, but it’s important to note nonetheless. Now, if your job is solely to keep things flowing safely and smoothly – arrivals, departures – and keep the air traffic… well, controlled, then I would think you would also be fired for falling asleep on the job. These people who have been in the news lately for doing just that are being suspended when they get caught. Suspended! That’s it! If I’m an air traffic controller and I fall asleep, I am risking the lives of at least one entire plane full of people, people on the ground, etc.
Also where I work, good attendance is a requirement for your job. A colleague of mine was in an Unemployment hearing for an associate who we had terminated for poor attendance. The hearing officer actually asked my colleague if the terminated employee had been made aware that attendance was a requirement of the job. We all joked about it at the time – if a person doesn’t realize that showing up is a crucial part of the job, what is the world coming to?! Similarly, if I’m an air traffic controller, I’m thinking at the very least I should be awake. I mean, these people don’t seem to have an attendance problem. But the problem is, they are not conscious when they are on the job – another crucial piece to, I dare say, just about any job out there. What is going on? And why were these people merely suspended? If they have no more regard for the lives in their care, they don’t deserve to have their jobs. What I want to know is, why this happening so much right now? Are these air traffic contollers just inexplicably passing out on their jobs or has this been happening all along and the media is only now becoming aware of it?
11. WHY do kids instinctively know that "potty words" as we call them in our household are so funny? My kids talk and giggle about their bottoms/hineys, poop, their ba-ginas, their beeboos (boobies), tee tee and tooting ALL THE TIME. We've tried to not draw attention to these words for fear of giving them a stigma and making them more attractive to our girls, but that doesn't seem to matter. They proudly use those words - in mixed company or not - and just laugh their little bottoms/hineys off. They'll ask to see my bottom (big mistake, girls, for this is a preview of what yours will look like one day and it aint pretty) and want to touch my beeboos because they know its silly and naughty. How did they turn out this way? When does innocence go away? Apparerntly as early as age three.
And finally...
12. WHY is it that at a time when I am focused on how much money I am spending I choose that exact moment to wreck my car? (Let me clarify here – it’s not that I normally just wildly spend money. I don’t at all. But, I am more tuned in to what we are spending these days because we have made a few renovations to our lake house and we have to furnish a couple of new rooms, etc.) I was driving on this little country road on the way to go get supplies from Lowe’s on Saturday when out darts this ratty looking cat. I don’t even like cats (except Lola, Mary) and yet my instinct was to do a hard swerve to avoid hitting it and ran into a construction sign on the side of the road demolishing my front right tire and side mirror and tearing a huge gash in the body of my car. This (probably) stray cat – whose life is probably worth less than $10 – will now cost us who knows how many thousands of dollars in repairs. And all while I am trying to be contentious of money. That’s what I get for worrying about what I’m spending. I won’t make that mistake again.
A funny side note – My three year old asked me where my car was since I was driving her daddy’s car. I told her I had had an accident in mine and couldn’t drive it. She turned to me and asked, very concerned, “Did you tee tee in your car?” I guess to a three year old, that’s what it means to have an accident. If only I had tee teed in my car. Would’ve been a lot cheaper.
1. WHY is it that Donald Trump is trying to run for President?! Does he really believe he has a shot in hell of being elected? He’s not used to people telling him no. How would that go over in dealing with Congress? Other world leaders? Would he simply “fire” Ghadhafi and expect all of those problems to go away? He’s not qualified to be our president. He’s not reasonable enough to be our president. And if, for no other reason, I would not vote for him because he doesn’t have sense enough to abandon that ridiculous hair. That, more than anything else, proves he is incapable of leading this country.
2. WHY are people buying tickets to Charlie Sheen’s Torpedo of Truth tour? WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?? It is bad enough that we must be kept abreast of his every move via the media, but for people to actually be interested in what this man has to say – it’s ludicrous! Last year I was ranting about being disgusted that Kate Gosselin was all over the place and that we were all expected to care about her. The interest in her has (thankfully) waned, but unfortunately has been replaced by interested in him. And he’s CRAZY. Or high. Or both. We shouldn’t listen to him. We should shut him up and hope that someone gets him some help. The fact that Japan could have a tsunami that could kill thousands of people and he would make the cover of People Magazine is a sad, sad commentary on what we think is worth our time and attention.
3. WHY is every song now sung by someone and “feat.” someone else? Half of the top 10 songs on I-Tunes are sung by one artist but “feat.” someone usually with a completely ridiculous name. All these hip-hop artists have the most absurd names. Big Boi, Mista F.A.B, Sista Soulja, Ludacris (which I actually think is clever since his actual name is Chris), Acafool (that is not a typo), Sticky Fingaz, Flo’Rida (he’s actually from Florida! Who knew?!) Killa Priest, etc. Then there’s C-Murder. This guy’s not even trying. No clever innuendo. No double entendre. He just goes straight to C-Murder. Perhaps we don't have long to wait before becoming acquainted with MC-Drugs or J-Gun Violence. C-Murder?! That’s not clever at all. It’s not a witty pun. It’s not a krazy spelling. It doesn’t mean anything – just… C-Murder. Sounds like a charming young man. Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, C-Murder.
I think these names are so silly and in a lot of cases so violent. Their names need to evoke more positive images than murder and mayhem - especially during these tough times that are upon us. Here are some of my suggestions:
Skippy Meadows
C-Kittens
Chair I Tee
Mista Rogers
Sunny Fancypants
Anything but C-Murder. What a downer!
4. WHY is everyone so fascinated by the upcoming royal wedding? Newsflash people: They are not our royal family. And monarchies are silly and archaic anyway. What do we care about Prince William and Kate Middleton? I hope they have a happy marriage, but I hope that for anyone getting married. Aside from that, I don’t much care about it. I don’t want to know her wedding workout regimen. I don’t want to buy a commemorative plate with their faces on it. I don’t want to win a replica of her ring. I don’t plan to watch it on TV. I plan to wake up that day and go through my normal routine. My life won’t change when they get married. Will yours? And if it will, what is wrong with you?!
5. WHY do I always have to pee ten times before going to bed? I think it’s a mental thing – this irrational fear that as soon as I get comfortable and on the verge of sleep, I’ll have to pee. So instead of ever getting comfortable, I just have to get up and pee several times. It also happens whenever I go snow skiing. I’ll get all bundled up in my 17 layers of clothing and then have to take it all off (or pull it down – whatever) and go to the bathroom. Very annoying. Another weird fact about my bladder (since you asked and all…) is that whenever I am hiding from someone, it instantly makes me have to pee. Not that I hide from people regularly (that kind of makes me sound like a freak) but even as a kid if I was playing hide and seek, I would go hide in the closet and almost wet my pants. It happens today if I am playing with the kids. Does that make me weird? Have I over-shared?
6. WHY is it that when I give up chips (except for chips in a Mexican restaurant – I have to have an “out”) for Lent as I have done this year, every room I walk into smells like Fritos? Or Cheetos? Or Doritos? Or tasty Sour Cream and Onion Ruffles? Or Barbecue Lays? Or Funyuns? I can smell these beautiful smells everywhere and yet, I cannot indulge. After Easter, I know it will go away and every room will begin smelling like stale breath and/or feet again. Isn’t that how it always works?
7. WHY are so many people still being diagnosed with and, in many cases, dying of cancer? One of Mike’s friends has Stage 4 cancer; one of my friends has Stage 2 colon cancer. Two of my work friends have very close family members who are incurable. And, of course, you all know a person or people who have it or have had it. So many young people are being diagnosed, too. What is going on? And all of these people who are stealing identities and creating super viruses that can make your computer explode – what would happen if they used their brains for good instead of evil? Might we be closer to a cure if the number of bad people out there made choices to do something positive for someone else? I hate people who are smart enough to make a positive contribution and then do the opposite. I hate them.
8. WHO (oops! Not a WHY question, but important nonetheless) creates all of the Apps (I hate that word, but I’d sound like a geek if I called them Applications) available for your I-Phone? Who has that kind of time? Who thought, “Dammit! I’m going to create a game where you use a slingshot to hurl a bunch of pissed off birds toward some pigs so they can blow them up!” We haven’t cured cancer but we have Angry Birds. Not that Angry Birds is completely unnecessary. It is nice to have some mindless entertainment. But who thinks of these things? I have no idea why these things are necessary, but apparently to millions of people (myself included) they are. How did we ever survive before Doodle Jump?
9. WHY do people seem to always create a walkway right in front of me when I’m standing in a line? It never fails. If I am in a large crowd and people are trying to push their way through, they will always walk over to where I’m standing and squeeze in between me and whoever is standing next to me. I don’t know if it’s because I’m fairly small and people assume they can just bulldoze right past me and I won’t be able to do much about it, but whatever it is, it’s annoying. I will purposely not make eye contact with people because I know they’ll think it gives them license to use me as a walkway. Even without acknowledging me, they’ll still choose either right in front of me or right in back of me to make their way to wherever it is they are going. Every time.
10. WHY are so many air traffic controllers falling asleep on the job right now? I work for a manufacturing company. If you are caught sleeping, you get fired. There’s just too much machinery and too many dangers to yourself and to others if you sleep. The odds of a person falling asleep and something horrible happening are obviously extremely low, but it’s important to note nonetheless. Now, if your job is solely to keep things flowing safely and smoothly – arrivals, departures – and keep the air traffic… well, controlled, then I would think you would also be fired for falling asleep on the job. These people who have been in the news lately for doing just that are being suspended when they get caught. Suspended! That’s it! If I’m an air traffic controller and I fall asleep, I am risking the lives of at least one entire plane full of people, people on the ground, etc.
Also where I work, good attendance is a requirement for your job. A colleague of mine was in an Unemployment hearing for an associate who we had terminated for poor attendance. The hearing officer actually asked my colleague if the terminated employee had been made aware that attendance was a requirement of the job. We all joked about it at the time – if a person doesn’t realize that showing up is a crucial part of the job, what is the world coming to?! Similarly, if I’m an air traffic controller, I’m thinking at the very least I should be awake. I mean, these people don’t seem to have an attendance problem. But the problem is, they are not conscious when they are on the job – another crucial piece to, I dare say, just about any job out there. What is going on? And why were these people merely suspended? If they have no more regard for the lives in their care, they don’t deserve to have their jobs. What I want to know is, why this happening so much right now? Are these air traffic contollers just inexplicably passing out on their jobs or has this been happening all along and the media is only now becoming aware of it?
11. WHY do kids instinctively know that "potty words" as we call them in our household are so funny? My kids talk and giggle about their bottoms/hineys, poop, their ba-ginas, their beeboos (boobies), tee tee and tooting ALL THE TIME. We've tried to not draw attention to these words for fear of giving them a stigma and making them more attractive to our girls, but that doesn't seem to matter. They proudly use those words - in mixed company or not - and just laugh their little bottoms/hineys off. They'll ask to see my bottom (big mistake, girls, for this is a preview of what yours will look like one day and it aint pretty) and want to touch my beeboos because they know its silly and naughty. How did they turn out this way? When does innocence go away? Apparerntly as early as age three.
And finally...
12. WHY is it that at a time when I am focused on how much money I am spending I choose that exact moment to wreck my car? (Let me clarify here – it’s not that I normally just wildly spend money. I don’t at all. But, I am more tuned in to what we are spending these days because we have made a few renovations to our lake house and we have to furnish a couple of new rooms, etc.) I was driving on this little country road on the way to go get supplies from Lowe’s on Saturday when out darts this ratty looking cat. I don’t even like cats (except Lola, Mary) and yet my instinct was to do a hard swerve to avoid hitting it and ran into a construction sign on the side of the road demolishing my front right tire and side mirror and tearing a huge gash in the body of my car. This (probably) stray cat – whose life is probably worth less than $10 – will now cost us who knows how many thousands of dollars in repairs. And all while I am trying to be contentious of money. That’s what I get for worrying about what I’m spending. I won’t make that mistake again.
A funny side note – My three year old asked me where my car was since I was driving her daddy’s car. I told her I had had an accident in mine and couldn’t drive it. She turned to me and asked, very concerned, “Did you tee tee in your car?” I guess to a three year old, that’s what it means to have an accident. If only I had tee teed in my car. Would’ve been a lot cheaper.
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