Thursday, August 28, 2008
Little Alex
One Sunday morning, the pastor noticed little Alex standing in the foyer of the church staring up at a large plaque.
It was covered with names and small American flags mounted on either side of it.
The six-year old had been staring at the plaque for some time, so the pastor walked up, stood beside the little boy,
and said quietly, 'Good morning Alex.'
'Good morning Pastor,' he replied, still focused on the plaque. 'Pastor, what is this?'
The pastor said, 'Well son, it's a memorial to all the young men and women who died in the service.'
Soberly, they just stood together, staring at the large plaque.
Finally, little Alex's voice, barely audible and trembling with fear asked, 'Which service, the 9:00 or the 11:00?'
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Don’t you just hate it when your kids grow up?
When I was a young mother I never thought that one day I’d long to hear the squabbles of two little girls down the hall. I never knew I’d close my eyes some day and try with all my might to recall the smell of my sweet little babies after a bath. I never knew I’d ache one day to feel them once again snuggled in my lap ready for a story. I never knew that one day my house would be so silent.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
End of a long day!
This has been a long day. It was Employee Appreciation here at work. Our HR department does a great job putting this together every year. We have a fantastic luncheon where our Commissioners hand out the longevity pins. This year we had several 20 year pins plus two 25 year pins (mine included) and one 35 year service pin. I think it says a lot of an organization to have so many of its staff here for 20+ years. The people who are here are for the most part here because of the special children we serve.
I've been meeting myself coming and going the past two weeks. My daughter is currently in school working on a master's degree. She is taking an online course this semester and her dyslexia requires me to serve as her typist and editor. I am also recording her textbook for her and that really takes some time. She's been out of college now for 9 years so I'm out of practice not to mention older.............I hope I have the stamina to keep up. It will all be over Dec. 8th so guess I'll have to pace myself!
I've been meeting myself coming and going the past two weeks. My daughter is currently in school working on a master's degree. She is taking an online course this semester and her dyslexia requires me to serve as her typist and editor. I am also recording her textbook for her and that really takes some time. She's been out of college now for 9 years so I'm out of practice not to mention older.............I hope I have the stamina to keep up. It will all be over Dec. 8th so guess I'll have to pace myself!
Monday, August 25, 2008
Well it finally happened again. My car was broken into while I slept last night. Now this isn't the first time in the past 31 years that this has happened. Unfortunately I do not have a garage (it was converted into living space years ago) and my car sits out at night. Over the years I've had my locks damaged, windows broken, etc. Since my car is over 12 years of age and I don't have anything of value in it I now leave one door unlocked in attempt to avoid damage. A few years ago I started leaving the following note in the glove compartment with an accompanying dollar bill.
Dear Thief:
Sorry I don’t have anything of value. If I did I’d be driving a better car. Here is a $1.00 cause you must need it if you’d resort to stealing. Please make sure you close the door when you are done so as not to run down my battery.
Sincerely,
The owner
Sure enough....this morning I found the glove compartment open. On the passenger seat sat my note and written in response....
"Thanks for the tip....I'll shut the door."
Well, at least they didn't tear up my car this time. Next time I'll ask them to clean up any trash and take it with them.
Dear Thief:
Sorry I don’t have anything of value. If I did I’d be driving a better car. Here is a $1.00 cause you must need it if you’d resort to stealing. Please make sure you close the door when you are done so as not to run down my battery.
Sincerely,
The owner
Sure enough....this morning I found the glove compartment open. On the passenger seat sat my note and written in response....
"Thanks for the tip....I'll shut the door."
Well, at least they didn't tear up my car this time. Next time I'll ask them to clean up any trash and take it with them.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Food for thought
If reincarnation were a bona-fide fact than people would care more about how they left this planet when they died. If you knew with certainty that your happy behind was coming back you’d be recycling anything and everything. Who wants to come back to a planet that is nearly uninhabitable due to global warming? When you are 59 + years in age you of course care about what is left for future generations but you always know in the back of your head that it won’t impact your lifetime. HOWEVER, if you knew without a doubt that you were coming back conservation would take on a whole new meaning, don’t you think? I think it might create a whole new perspective on a lot of issues. Prejudices perhaps…any race, gender or religion that you discriminate against in this life time you might just come back as in the next. It’s an interesting thought don’t you think? Men who abuse their wives or girlfriends might return in the next life as a female married to an Iranian fundamentalist. Now there’s some justice. Child predators might return as orphaned street children in Ethiopia sold as sex slaves. If you really believed you would return to live another life in order to learn from your previous mistakes wouldn’t you think a lot harder about the consequences of your actions in this life time? I’d like to think so.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
trivia and other useless information
Mildred, the church gossip, and self-appointed monitor of the church's morals, kept sticking her nose in to other people's business. Several members did not approve of her extra curricular activities, but feared her enough to maintain their silence.
She made a mistake, however, when she accused Elmer, a new member, of being an alcoholic after she saw his old pickup parked in front of the town's only bar one afternoon. She emphatically told Elmer (and several others) that everyone seeing it there would know exactly what he was doing!
Elmer, a man of few words, stared at her for a moment and just turned and walked away. He didn't explain, defend, or deny... he said nothing.
Later that evening, Elmer quietly parked his pickup in front of Mildred's house... walked home... and left it there all night.
You gotta love Elmer.
Last Friday I did something I've never done. I paid $2.99 to do a people search to see if I could find my ex-husband. I don't know what came over me, curiosity mostly but I got 10 addresses and 2 phone numbers for my $2.99. I didn't mention any of this to my daughters because I wasn't sure how they would feel about it. They have only had contact with their dad once in 31 years and that was 21 years ago. Anyway, the next day my son-in-law called me looking for information. He is getting ready to start a new job requiring an extensive security clearance. He had submitted the necessary information but had left out the information requested about his father-in-law. He noted that we have been divorced over 30 years and have had no contact for over 20 years. That wasn't good enough so he called to see if I had any information. Well, what do you know.......I do........I guess we don't always know why we do things at the time but maybe some intuition is guiding us along.
Quarterly Q.A.
I started my morning running. Had my 8 a.m. Quality Assurance meeting that must have set a record lasting only 10 minutes. I don't know if that says we maintain a high standard of quality or we are so lacking we have nothing to say. Half the committee didn't show up so that may be the reason it went so quickly. The idea of Quality Assurance got me to thinking that it might be worthwhile to have a Quarterly Quality Assurance meeting in every family, marriage, relationship or just one's own life. Each member could establish their measurable indicators for their own life, for the relationship or family and then report quarterly. It might be a great opportunity to communicate personal goals as well as family goals and whether they are being achieved. Of course I would have to be chairperson of my committee.....I'm just bossy that way! Now I need to establish my own indicators.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Brain Age
http://flashfabrica.com/f_learning/brain/brain.html
Check your brain age at the above site.
To play:
1. Touch “start”
2. Wait for 3, 2, 1
3. Memorize the numbers’ positions on the screen, then click the circle from the smallest number to the biggest one.
4. At the end of the game, the computer will gage the age of your brain.
Good Luck!! Oh by the way.....my brain age was 25
Check your brain age at the above site.
To play:
1. Touch “start”
2. Wait for 3, 2, 1
3. Memorize the numbers’ positions on the screen, then click the circle from the smallest number to the biggest one.
4. At the end of the game, the computer will gage the age of your brain.
Good Luck!! Oh by the way.....my brain age was 25
I feel pretty...oh so pretty!
Monday, August 18, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
The flood gates are open!
Rain, Rain, and more rain expected. We had quite a lightening show last night followed by a gully washer. It reminds me more of spring time than mid August. We are usually baking our little brains this time of year but these 80 degree days are really nice. It's a little muggy but I don't mind that. I did manage to get my yard mowed before the water works began but just barely. My mother's cousin Wanda always made her kids wash walls when it was raining outside. Rain was just a good excuse to put all the kids to work and keep em out of trouble. I like to curl up with a good book when it is raining but if there is a good thunder storm that's the perfect time for a nap! And the minute the rain stops......head out for a walk. The air never smells as sweet as it does after rain.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Last night my sister and I were sitting in the den and I said to her, 'I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some machine and fluids from a bottle to keep me alive. That would be no quality of life at all, If that ever happens, just pull the plug.'
So she got up, unplugged the computer, and threw out my wine.
She's such a bitch.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Summer Time and the Livin Was Easy
As a kid my family didn’t take a lot of vacations but the ones we did take were memorable. The first trip I remember was when my brother Mike and I were about 7 and 8 years old. Because dad traveled for a living and because he had an expense account this offered us the opportunity to combine business with pleasure. This particular opportunity took us on a trip through the southern states. It also provided a great history lesson for Mike and I. We visited civil war battlefields,
plantation homes and learned about the war first hand. It really was a great trip and though I was fairly young at the time it left an indelible impression on me.
One memory, and a somewhat educational one at least for Mike, was the lesson we received on fine cuisine. Mike and I were typical American kids with limited appreciation of fine dining but we did like a good ole hamburger and ordered it wherever we ate. I always ordered mine plain with meat and mayonnaise only. During this family vacation my father tried to introduce us to a larger pallet of food experiences. He explained that there was much more to eat in the world than hamburger. Now Mike proved to be a more willing student than myself. Nothing would persuade me to try anything other than my usual but Mike was willing to explore the possibilities. One evening dad convinced Mike to try lobster tails. Not only did Mike find the food to his liking he developed a real craving for this newly acquired taste and began ordering lobster at every meal. At some point daddy had to dash the boy’s epicurean taste buds and tell him that the bank would soon go bust if he kept this lifestyle up much longer.
Another memorable vacation was the summer we went to Colorado Springs, Colorado. On this particular trip my father’s sister, Aunt Esther, and her husband Cheesy, and their youngest son John Max accompanied us. Now, I was about 8 or 9 and John was 5 years older. He was our favorite cousin since he was the one closest in age. Uncle Cheesy was a very big man with the most beautiful white hair. He was sweet and gentle and a bonafide food connoisseur.
We departed Norman one summer morning before the sun had risen in the east. Behind the driver’s wheel of our Ford station wagon sat my father with Uncle Cheesy riding shotgun. Mother, Aunt Esther and myself took up the back seat while Mike and John sprawled out on a pallet in the luggage area. Our trip began with little fanfare other than a reluctant farewell to my older brother Butch who had to remain behind to work and to fulfill his ROTC commitment. We were traveling along in the dark feeling pretty comfortable until the sun began to rise. As the sun got stronger the car got hotter. Though we had the luxury of an air-conditioned car the two very large men in the front seat completely blocked any air from reaching those of us in the back. As if this wasn’t bad enough my father, being the avid cigar smoker, was also choking us to death at the same time our brains were being boiled. It didn’t matter how high they cranked that air conditioner up no air was going to get past Uncle Cheesy and dad.
As our journey progressed the route became less familiar so daddy asked Uncle Cheesy to serve as navigator and watch for road signs. Uncle Cheesy diligently
watched out the window calling out the passing signs, “Eat at Joes, Bob’s Barbeque 10 miles ahead, or Uncle John’s Fabulous Frankfurters”. To heck with road signs, Uncle Cheesy had only one thought in mind and that was food. In addition to our frequent quests for food on this trip daddy took it upon himself to attempt to cure his youngest child of a bridge phobia acquired at an early age due to the collapse of the old Canadian River Bridge. This was no childish, unsubstantiated fear this was fear based on eyewitness accounts. It was papa’s plan to cure the phobia once and for all by taking the vacationing clan across the Royal Gorge and he began preparing me for the event well in advance by telling me that it was a necessary crossing in order to get to our final destination. Therefore there simply was no other way to accomplish the task at hand other than crossing the great wooden suspension bridge. Finally the moment of dread arrived. We were on one side of the gorge looking over the edge at the tiny observation train below. Mom and Aunt Ester had decided to walk across the bridge leaving me in the capable hands of my father and uncle. Uncle Cheesy had a grip on my suspenders as I cautiously leaned through the railing to check out the water below. I was just about to kick up a fuss about our impending vehicular drive across the bridge when papa took me inside the souvenir shop. Papa promised me an Indian princess doll and a 50-cent root beer if I would go quietly. Unable to refuse the call of the doll I agreed and so the journey began with me sitting under a blanket on the floor board of the back seat, Indian princess in one hand and a giant 50 cent root beer in the other we began to cross the bridge like settlers in a wagon train. Slowly we inched our way across the swaying wooden bridge. I could hear the clackity, clack sound of each wooden slat as we crossed gulping down my fear with ice-cold root beer. Fear had never tasted so darn good. Eventually we were on the other side. Fate had not been cruel, we had not plummeted into the gorge below. After we had all stood about looking at the Gorge from our new vantage point papa announced it was time to go back. “GO BACK”, I said. “But you said we had to cross the bridge to get to where we are going.” Papa mater-of-factly replied, “This IS where we were going…………..and now we are going back.”
My lesson on how to overcome a phobia was not the only lesson I learned on our trip to Colorado. On our way back to Oklahoma we made an unscheduled stop at Boot Hill, Kansas. The purpose was to pay a visit to the tourist attraction “Boot Hill”, a western amusement park of sorts complete with a saloon and a gunfight. Though all of us kids were excited by the prospect of seeing this attraction daddy was however not so impressed. He wasn’t one to wait in lines or be easily amused for that matter. Just as we were pulling into the parking lot of the park daddy remarked, “Ahhhh, just one more bastard with his hand out”. Before everyone could exit the vehicle I ran straight to the admission gate and yelled back to my family, “Here’s that bastard with his hand out daddy”. Having no idea the meaning of what I had just said I was shocked by the sudden reaction of those in attendance. Mother gasped and began to berate daddy for the corruption of his children. “You have my only daughter talking like a sailor,” she said. As mother continued to admonish him daddy pointed to the car and we all climbed back inside. Mike and John could hardly hold back their obvious enjoyment of the fact that I was in trouble and for once they were innocent. Mother was still letting daddy know that he had forever destroyed all her attempts at good parenting as papa turned around to the 3 of us and said matter of factly, “Don’t repeat what I say……understand?” I stammered through my tears, “I won’t”. Lesson learned.
plantation homes and learned about the war first hand. It really was a great trip and though I was fairly young at the time it left an indelible impression on me.
One memory, and a somewhat educational one at least for Mike, was the lesson we received on fine cuisine. Mike and I were typical American kids with limited appreciation of fine dining but we did like a good ole hamburger and ordered it wherever we ate. I always ordered mine plain with meat and mayonnaise only. During this family vacation my father tried to introduce us to a larger pallet of food experiences. He explained that there was much more to eat in the world than hamburger. Now Mike proved to be a more willing student than myself. Nothing would persuade me to try anything other than my usual but Mike was willing to explore the possibilities. One evening dad convinced Mike to try lobster tails. Not only did Mike find the food to his liking he developed a real craving for this newly acquired taste and began ordering lobster at every meal. At some point daddy had to dash the boy’s epicurean taste buds and tell him that the bank would soon go bust if he kept this lifestyle up much longer.
Another memorable vacation was the summer we went to Colorado Springs, Colorado. On this particular trip my father’s sister, Aunt Esther, and her husband Cheesy, and their youngest son John Max accompanied us. Now, I was about 8 or 9 and John was 5 years older. He was our favorite cousin since he was the one closest in age. Uncle Cheesy was a very big man with the most beautiful white hair. He was sweet and gentle and a bonafide food connoisseur.
We departed Norman one summer morning before the sun had risen in the east. Behind the driver’s wheel of our Ford station wagon sat my father with Uncle Cheesy riding shotgun. Mother, Aunt Esther and myself took up the back seat while Mike and John sprawled out on a pallet in the luggage area. Our trip began with little fanfare other than a reluctant farewell to my older brother Butch who had to remain behind to work and to fulfill his ROTC commitment. We were traveling along in the dark feeling pretty comfortable until the sun began to rise. As the sun got stronger the car got hotter. Though we had the luxury of an air-conditioned car the two very large men in the front seat completely blocked any air from reaching those of us in the back. As if this wasn’t bad enough my father, being the avid cigar smoker, was also choking us to death at the same time our brains were being boiled. It didn’t matter how high they cranked that air conditioner up no air was going to get past Uncle Cheesy and dad.
As our journey progressed the route became less familiar so daddy asked Uncle Cheesy to serve as navigator and watch for road signs. Uncle Cheesy diligently
watched out the window calling out the passing signs, “Eat at Joes, Bob’s Barbeque 10 miles ahead, or Uncle John’s Fabulous Frankfurters”. To heck with road signs, Uncle Cheesy had only one thought in mind and that was food. In addition to our frequent quests for food on this trip daddy took it upon himself to attempt to cure his youngest child of a bridge phobia acquired at an early age due to the collapse of the old Canadian River Bridge. This was no childish, unsubstantiated fear this was fear based on eyewitness accounts. It was papa’s plan to cure the phobia once and for all by taking the vacationing clan across the Royal Gorge and he began preparing me for the event well in advance by telling me that it was a necessary crossing in order to get to our final destination. Therefore there simply was no other way to accomplish the task at hand other than crossing the great wooden suspension bridge. Finally the moment of dread arrived. We were on one side of the gorge looking over the edge at the tiny observation train below. Mom and Aunt Ester had decided to walk across the bridge leaving me in the capable hands of my father and uncle. Uncle Cheesy had a grip on my suspenders as I cautiously leaned through the railing to check out the water below. I was just about to kick up a fuss about our impending vehicular drive across the bridge when papa took me inside the souvenir shop. Papa promised me an Indian princess doll and a 50-cent root beer if I would go quietly. Unable to refuse the call of the doll I agreed and so the journey began with me sitting under a blanket on the floor board of the back seat, Indian princess in one hand and a giant 50 cent root beer in the other we began to cross the bridge like settlers in a wagon train. Slowly we inched our way across the swaying wooden bridge. I could hear the clackity, clack sound of each wooden slat as we crossed gulping down my fear with ice-cold root beer. Fear had never tasted so darn good. Eventually we were on the other side. Fate had not been cruel, we had not plummeted into the gorge below. After we had all stood about looking at the Gorge from our new vantage point papa announced it was time to go back. “GO BACK”, I said. “But you said we had to cross the bridge to get to where we are going.” Papa mater-of-factly replied, “This IS where we were going…………..and now we are going back.”
My lesson on how to overcome a phobia was not the only lesson I learned on our trip to Colorado. On our way back to Oklahoma we made an unscheduled stop at Boot Hill, Kansas. The purpose was to pay a visit to the tourist attraction “Boot Hill”, a western amusement park of sorts complete with a saloon and a gunfight. Though all of us kids were excited by the prospect of seeing this attraction daddy was however not so impressed. He wasn’t one to wait in lines or be easily amused for that matter. Just as we were pulling into the parking lot of the park daddy remarked, “Ahhhh, just one more bastard with his hand out”. Before everyone could exit the vehicle I ran straight to the admission gate and yelled back to my family, “Here’s that bastard with his hand out daddy”. Having no idea the meaning of what I had just said I was shocked by the sudden reaction of those in attendance. Mother gasped and began to berate daddy for the corruption of his children. “You have my only daughter talking like a sailor,” she said. As mother continued to admonish him daddy pointed to the car and we all climbed back inside. Mike and John could hardly hold back their obvious enjoyment of the fact that I was in trouble and for once they were innocent. Mother was still letting daddy know that he had forever destroyed all her attempts at good parenting as papa turned around to the 3 of us and said matter of factly, “Don’t repeat what I say……understand?” I stammered through my tears, “I won’t”. Lesson learned.
Friday Night Lights
It's Wednesday...hump day....or just plain one day closer to the weekend. I hate living from one weekend to another because it's like wishing my life away and I'm kinda feeling I'm on the down hill side of life as it is. Don't need it to pass any quicker than necessary. The respite from the heat is wonderful and the rain has made the grass green again. I even went for a walk last night and it was quite enjoyable. Made me start looking forward to the fall. I just love September when the county fair comes to town and you know the state fair is around the corner. There is a smell in the air (possibly the livestock) but who cares, it has its own distinctive aroma. I think of bright eyed kids eyeballing the rides and anxious to try their hands at winning the giant stuffed animals. The state fair brings the promise of rain (it always rains during the fair) and you know that fall weather is just around the corner. I think my memories of the fair as a kid are partly why the fall is my favorite time of year. Football games on Saturdays and people flooding our town to see the Sooners at Owens Stadium. I don't have to go to the games to feel part of the festivities. I can hear the roar of the crowd from my back yard and the boom of the guns when our team scores. When I was a kid we lived near the stadium and all the kids in our neighborhood earned extra money parking cars in their front yards. That was quite a business for the 50's because we could park 20+ cars and even at a $.75 a car that was a lot of money for a kid back then. I expanded my business by adding babysitting services to the deal. On game days I might have 6 kids in my care and we'd have a picnic lunch and I'd walk the kids to the Stovall museum near our house to see the shrunken heads. Somehow that seemed to get their attention and they were good to go the rest of the afternoon. I love Halloween, Friday night high school football games and raking leaves. Wow....I can't wait!
Monday, August 11, 2008
Bargains
I can't believe the most expensive shoes I ever purchased are tennis shoes! I'm such an impulse shopper. Just give me a good sales pitch and I'm sold. Just ask my daughters. The promise of good posture and no back pain....ok I'm in! Here's the pitch that got me: MBT's were developed to cure back and joint problems, MBTs help to strengthen and tone the body, improve sports performance and help people lose inches. (That alone was my cue to purchase)
Due to MBT's unique patented curved layered sole, it lengthens the body into a tall, upright posture and encourages use of neglected muscle groups. (As opposed to knuckle dragging) When walking or jogging users engage untrained muscles and burn more calories, helping people to tone and to lose weight efficiently. Even while standing the muscles continue working to maintain a centre of balance. (NOW they had me at hello, you might just lose weight, but I went on to hear the rest)
The MBT range of footwear is designed to allow you to walk on a soft, uneven surface in order to stimulate exceptional muscle use; so increasing tone, alignment throughout the body, benefiting circulation and giving you a feeling of overall good health and well being. Now wouldn't you pay ummmmmmmmmmm dollars to have an overall since of well being? I've paid counselors even more in an attempt to achieve that goal and I didn't lose an ounce in the process. But then I was once told that for a $1.00 bottle of wine you can be the best dressed, a eloquent speaker, and a spiffy dancer too! Which is the better bargain? You do the math.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Walmart Cake
Okay so this is how I imagine this conversation went:
Walmart Employee: 'Hello 'dis be Walmarts, how can I help you?'
Customer: ' I would like to order a cake for a going away party this week.'
Walmart Employee: 'What you want on the cake?'
Customer: 'Best Wishes Suzanne' and underneath that 'We will miss you'.
Would you remarry?
Husband and wife are lying quietly in bed reading when the wife looks over at him and asks the question.
WIFE: 'What would you do if I died? Would you get married again?'
HUSBAND: 'Definitely not!'
WIFE: 'Why not? Don't you like being married?'
HUSBAND: 'Of course I do.'
WIFE: 'Then why wouldn't you remarry?'
HUSBAND: 'Okay, okay, I'd get married again.'
WIFE: 'You would? (with a hurt look)
HUSBAND: (makes audible groan)
WIFE: 'Would you live in our house?'
HUSBAND: 'Sure. It's a great house.'
WIFE: 'Would you sleep with her in our bed?'
HUSBAND: 'Where else would we sleep?'
WIFE: 'Would you let her drive my car?'
HUSBAND: 'Probably. It is almost new.'
WIFE: 'Would you replace my pictures with hers?'
HUSBAND: 'That would seem like the proper thing to do.'
WIFE: 'Would you give her my jewelry?'
HUSBAND: 'No. I'm sure she'd want her own.'
WIFE: 'Would you take her golfing with you?'
HUSBAND: 'Yes. Those are always good times.'
WIFE: 'Would she use my clubs?'
HUSBAND: 'No. She's left-handed.'
WIFE: - silence -
WIFE: 'What would you do if I died? Would you get married again?'
HUSBAND: 'Definitely not!'
WIFE: 'Why not? Don't you like being married?'
HUSBAND: 'Of course I do.'
WIFE: 'Then why wouldn't you remarry?'
HUSBAND: 'Okay, okay, I'd get married again.'
WIFE: 'You would? (with a hurt look)
HUSBAND: (makes audible groan)
WIFE: 'Would you live in our house?'
HUSBAND: 'Sure. It's a great house.'
WIFE: 'Would you sleep with her in our bed?'
HUSBAND: 'Where else would we sleep?'
WIFE: 'Would you let her drive my car?'
HUSBAND: 'Probably. It is almost new.'
WIFE: 'Would you replace my pictures with hers?'
HUSBAND: 'That would seem like the proper thing to do.'
WIFE: 'Would you give her my jewelry?'
HUSBAND: 'No. I'm sure she'd want her own.'
WIFE: 'Would you take her golfing with you?'
HUSBAND: 'Yes. Those are always good times.'
WIFE: 'Would she use my clubs?'
HUSBAND: 'No. She's left-handed.'
WIFE: - silence -
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Communication or lack of it
I need to rant!!!!!! I work in a place with the poorest communication EVER! and....it starts at the TOP. Nothing is communicated to anyone. You can't assume anything around here and then there are the negative communicators. The ones that jump into the middle of things and never have anything positive to say about anything. I have loved my job for over 20 years but I really don't enjoy being here anymore. That's so sad to me and I wonder at times if it is my age or I'm just burned out or the way the workplace has changed or all the above. Who knows. It is just frustrating.
I hope the weather man is right.....rain TODAY! Yesterday's 90 + temp. felt like a cold front and today may even be better. I've got so many projects on the burner I don't know where to start. I've been working on a new classroom library system for my daughter's kindergarten class. I've just about got everything ready to put it together and I can't wait to see how it looks and functions. She has been collecting children's books for some time and now has quite a extended collection. Then I'm going to play teacher assistant for my other daughter on Back To School Night. That should be fun! We have a family fun night scheduled at work on the 28th with lots of games and food and that should be fun. Thank goodness I wasn't in charge of this activity. Our Olympic event just about killed me because of the heat. I'm in a budget meeting most of the day today. Guess I'd better start preparing.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Summer Olympics
Make a Smilebox slideshow |
We had our summer Olympics here at work and in spite of the heat fun was had by all. Next year I hope someone else is in charge.
It's amazing that 97 degrees seems like a cool front. It sure beats the heck out of 106. It's been down right Africa hot around here. I've been watering the yard like crazy just trying to keep it alive. Now the contrast from outside to inside is drastic. My office is like a refrigerator and I have to bundle up with long sleeves and a sweater all day. Then I leave at the end of the day and the heat hits you the minute you walk out the door and I start thawing on the way to the car. Oh well...I'd rather be a little cold than hot. I still can't believe it is August already! I usually have all my Christmas presents purchased by this time. Not so this year. I don't even have any ideas. All I can think of are things I want! I want a new set of stainless steel flatware for some reason. I have a bunch of miss matched utensils but I'm the only one using them so what does it matter? Don't know but what the heck... I also want a new stove that has gas burners and an electric oven. Why? I don't know. It's now like I cook that much. I also want a refrigerator with a bottom freezer drawer. I hate my side-by-side because the sides are too narrow. I think the new double doors on top and drawer on the bottom is soooooo smart. Do I need one? No, but I want one. So, if you are listening Santa, I've been reasonably good this year (at least so far) and would be much beholding if you'd at least give my request some consideration. You know where the key is so feel free to
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Oh Happy Day
Today is a good day! Ron got a job with the state and that is an answered prayer. This job even fits his personality (which I've compared to a funeral director). He will be with the Department of Human Services as a social services representative. He'll meet with clients and conduct interviews to determine their eligibility for services. He will be working here in town and that will help since he won't have the cost of commuting to the city. So.....Oh Happy Day.....Oh Happy Day..... What a relief! I can now relax. I was worried about what would happen if something didn't come along soon.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Marriage isn't always the goal!
We’ve all had those windows of opportunity that for whatever reason we didn’t take. Some of those windows related to careers and others to lost business opportunities. The window I’m referring to is marriage. I recently heard that window slam shut. It hit me suddenly but clearly that I do not want to be married at this time in my life. I was rather surprised by this revelation. I have been divorced for 31 years and had until now assumed I would remarry some day but I was so busy being a single mom I never engaged in activities that were condusive to meeting someone. Then at the ripe old age of 52 I began a relationship with a childhood sweetheart I hadn’t seen in over 30 years. It was new yet familiar; our shared past afforded a continuity that I thought had been lost to me forever. The window of opportunity was still open for me at the beginning of our relationship and had we acted upon it earlier I would have happily gone into marriage for the second time. But now that we are 7 years into the relationship I find that I have changed. I have become increasingly aware of the advantages of being a single, mature woman. I still love him but the desire to be with him 24 hours a day is gone. Where did it go? I still care deeply about him but have also become aware of just how much I enjoy my solitude and independence.
I read recently that 7.6 million of the Baby Boomers have never been married. Of those that have been married, many of them have either been divorced or widowed. If they find themselves single, they are not necessarily interested in marriage again. Like me, some are content to have raised their children and made sacrifices of their own personal interests for the betterment of their family but now have the unique opportunity of pursuing those dreams again.
More and more, women are financially independent. They don't need marriage to make ends meet. They are content with spending time with their children and their grandchildren. They are enjoying a freedom that it has taken them years to achieve and many enjoy dating when it means they can go out and have a good time, but then they get to go home to their house where things are done their way and they don't have to worry about someone not hanging the towels up right or leaving crumbs on the counter.
So marriage may not be the goal and that window of opportunity may now be closed but it doesn't stop mature individuals, both male and female, from enjoying a strong social network of contacts. I may not be interested in commitment or marriage or blending my life with another's at this stage in the game but that's not to say romance doesn't happen, I just no longer feel pressured by the blush of youth to rush into anything and like a fine wine, I want to enjoy my age with great comfort.
I read recently that 7.6 million of the Baby Boomers have never been married. Of those that have been married, many of them have either been divorced or widowed. If they find themselves single, they are not necessarily interested in marriage again. Like me, some are content to have raised their children and made sacrifices of their own personal interests for the betterment of their family but now have the unique opportunity of pursuing those dreams again.
More and more, women are financially independent. They don't need marriage to make ends meet. They are content with spending time with their children and their grandchildren. They are enjoying a freedom that it has taken them years to achieve and many enjoy dating when it means they can go out and have a good time, but then they get to go home to their house where things are done their way and they don't have to worry about someone not hanging the towels up right or leaving crumbs on the counter.
So marriage may not be the goal and that window of opportunity may now be closed but it doesn't stop mature individuals, both male and female, from enjoying a strong social network of contacts. I may not be interested in commitment or marriage or blending my life with another's at this stage in the game but that's not to say romance doesn't happen, I just no longer feel pressured by the blush of youth to rush into anything and like a fine wine, I want to enjoy my age with great comfort.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Jelly fish bad day!
Rob is a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers in Louisiana . He performs underwater repairs on offshore drilling rigs.
Below is an E-mail he sent to his sister. She then sent it to radio station 103.2 on FM dial in Ft. Wayne, Indiana , who was sponsoring a worst job experience contest. Needless to say, she won.
~~Hi Sue,
Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother. Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know you've been feeling down lately at work,so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it's not so bad after all . Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job. As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea. I wear a suit to the office. It's a wet suit. This time of year the water is quite cool. So what we do to keep warm is this: We have a diesel powered industrial water heater.
This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks the water out of the sea. It heats it to a delightful temperature. It then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose, which is taped to the air hose. Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I've used it several times with no complaints. What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wet suit. This floods my whole suit with warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi.
Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my butt started to itch. So, of course, I scratched it. This only made things worse. Within a few seconds my ass started to burn. I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done. In agony I realized what had happened. The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit. Now, since I don't have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn't stick to it, however, the crack of my @ss was not as fortunate. When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into the crack of my @ss.
I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the communicator. His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with five other divers, were all laughing hysterically. Needless to say I aborted the dive. I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water decompression stops totaling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression. When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet.
As I climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my butt as soon as I got in the chamber. The cream put the fire out, but I couldn't *#@* for two days because my ass was swollen shut.
So, next time you're having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your @ss. Now repeat to yourself, 'I love my job, I love my job, I love my job.' Whenever you have a bad day, ask yourself, is this a jellyfish bad day?
Below is an E-mail he sent to his sister. She then sent it to radio station 103.2 on FM dial in Ft. Wayne, Indiana , who was sponsoring a worst job experience contest. Needless to say, she won.
~~Hi Sue,
Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother. Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know you've been feeling down lately at work,so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it's not so bad after all . Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job. As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea. I wear a suit to the office. It's a wet suit. This time of year the water is quite cool. So what we do to keep warm is this: We have a diesel powered industrial water heater.
This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks the water out of the sea. It heats it to a delightful temperature. It then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose, which is taped to the air hose. Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I've used it several times with no complaints. What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wet suit. This floods my whole suit with warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi.
Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my butt started to itch. So, of course, I scratched it. This only made things worse. Within a few seconds my ass started to burn. I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done. In agony I realized what had happened. The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit. Now, since I don't have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn't stick to it, however, the crack of my @ss was not as fortunate. When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into the crack of my @ss.
I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the communicator. His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with five other divers, were all laughing hysterically. Needless to say I aborted the dive. I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water decompression stops totaling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression. When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet.
As I climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my butt as soon as I got in the chamber. The cream put the fire out, but I couldn't *#@* for two days because my ass was swollen shut.
So, next time you're having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your @ss. Now repeat to yourself, 'I love my job, I love my job, I love my job.' Whenever you have a bad day, ask yourself, is this a jellyfish bad day?
It's that time of year again. Time for school to start. It hardly seems like the summer should be ending when we just hit 100+ temperatures. I spent yesterday afternoon helping Julie put together her classroom and this afternoon I belong to Jamie. I feel like an indentured servant but I secretly like helping them I just have to complain or I wouldn't be a mother. The difference between the two girls is still just as amazing to me as when they were kids. Julie is the eternal pack rat. She doesn't throw anything away for fear she may need it. Jamie on the other hand doesn't want clutter and condenses everything. Two very different peas in a pod. It takes so much STUFF to teach pre-k and kindergarten it is mind boggling. It is so different from when I was a kid. We just sat at desks and did worksheets. Not much fun but boy did we know to behave. If you acted like a toot you got a paddling and then you got another one at home for good measure. If you talked too much you had to sit behind the blackboard. I hate to admit it but I spent the first 3 years of school behind the blackboard. It's not easy to learn how to tell time when you can't see the clock. At the end of each blackboard is where they hung the pencil sharpeners. Every time a classmate came up to sharpen a pencil I'd take that opportunity to TALK of course! The teacher would nail me again. I'd also use those opportunities to get a classmate to tie my shoes. Another visual demonstration I wasn't privileged to see! You can't imagine how happy I was when digital clocks and velcro came about. It was just too late to save me from exile!
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