Archive for November, 2006

Nap Time

Thursday, November 9th, 2006

My 7 month old daughter is an absolute joy. She is quick to laugh and loves to play. It’s so fun to watch my little darling explore the world with energy and enthusiasm. Every person and thing she discovers is met with a huge smile. She is nothing short of an angel. Even angels have their moments though.

Three times a day my sweet daughter is transformed from giggles and glee to cries and frustration. Any parent knows the personality shift that occurs when nap time has arrived. Exhaustion rears its ugly head and the monster comes out. Because I realize what is happening, I scoop the little grump into my arms, soothe her and lay her down for some much needed shut eye. An hour or two later her lids flutter open and I’m graced with a huge smile. The monster has been contained and my angel has returned for action.

My daughter’s nap cycle actually has me thinking a bit about people in general. I’ll tell you what I mean. While shopping the other day, I encountered a retail clerk with a nasty disposition. Her eyes shot daggers when I asked a simple question. She huffed and she puffed as she went through the seemingly enormous task of looking up a price. The old me would have looked at this woman and thought “what a jerk (or possibly something else)!” I would have dismissed her as a bad apple not worthy of my time. Now that I’m looking at the world through a mother’s eyes, I see something different. Perhaps what I used to see as a jerk is really an angel in need of a nap.

Let’s think about this. I doubt anyone would argue people are more tired these days. They are tired in the physical and mental sense. Isn’t it logical adults would experience the same personality transformation as a baby in need of some rest? Seems possible to me. Because it’s possible, I’m now rethinking how to react to adults who are behaving badly. When a baby is exhibiting signs of exhaustion, do we hate the baby or start calling him/her names? Do we get mad at the baby and start looking for ways to get even? Do we wash our hands of the baby and find ourselves not on speaking terms? Of course we don’t. We are better than that. We know it would be wrong to take that baby’s actions as a testiment to who he/she is. The mother in me is starting to wonder if I’ve been too quick to judge those among us who are no longer in diapers.

Let’s say I’m on to something here. Now what? It’s not like we can lull other adults in a rocker and then tuck them into bed. Attempting to do so might actually cause legal problems. We can challenge ourselves to look at situations a bit differently though. I know when my daughter is tired, a smile and a little warmth from me helps take some of the edge off. If I raise my voice or join her on Team Irritable, the game is lost to both of us. How hard would it be to refrain from thinking the worst of someone initially and reacting to that hasty judgment? If you were having a bad day or ugly moment, wouldn’t you want others to wonder if you are going through a difficult time versus assuming you are mean, rude or stupid? I know I would.

Back to my daughter. My life is so much brighter because of Olivia. The proud mom in me believes Olivia touches other people’s lives too. If someone wrote her off as a brat or a bad seed because they encountered the tired monster, they’d miss out on the joys of my well rested angel. What a shame that would be. Rethinking the reasoning behind people’s behavior makes me optimistic there really are more angels in this world than demons. It’s my goal not to overlook a single one of them. Even the tired ones.

I’m Joking.

Wednesday, November 8th, 2006

Remember when jokes were about strings walking into bars or men screwing in lightbulbs? Gosh I miss those days. Back then, the average Joe could try his hand at a joke and actually be funny. These days, it seems laughs should be left to the professional comedians. Here is a sampling of the jokes hitting the streets.

“You only got that promotion because you’re a kiss up. Just kidding.”

“You actually paid money for that? C’mon, I’m joking.”

“Stay-at-home mom? Hmmm, somebody would rather watch Oprah than work, eh? Joking, joking.”

“If you don’t stay in school, you’ll end up stuck in Iraq.” We’ll leave that one alone.

Jokes are going down hill and picking up speed. Instead of slapping our knees, we are forced to control the urge to slap a few faces. Since violence is never funny, I suggest we plot a new course with our humor. Bring back the good jokes of yesteryear and leave the crafting of new jokes to the professionals. In the meantime, if you’ve heard some of these modern day funnies, try not to pass them on. A joke untold is quickly forgotten.

The Password Game

Tuesday, November 7th, 2006

Depending on your age, you may or may not remember the old game show Password. It ran from the early 60’s to the mid 70’s. Since I was 4 when it went off the air, I suspect my exposure to the game came in syndication. In any event, contestants were paired with a celebrity and were charged with the task of guessing the ‘password’ when given a series of one word clues. If you did well, you qualified for the ‘Lightning Round’ where $250 was up for grabs.

Though Password is no longer on the air, the modern day version of the game is alive and well. Instead of taking place in a studio, the game is now set in my living room. I play it daily on my laptop. These days there is a lot more on the line than $250. If I am able to guess the magic password I get to access my bank account, open my emails, retrieve my voicemail, read articles from online newspapers, pay bills, update my webpage, upload photos to my virtual album, participate in internet forums and write on my blog.

Before becoming a contestant, I naively thought the game would be easy to win. Granted, the degree of difficulty was increased with the addition of user names, but I had a master plan that should guarantee success. I’d pick a user name that would work in all situations. Because it’s unwise to have identical user names and passwords on everything, I’d select different passwords for each function and make sure my choice was logical to the task.

Unfortunately, my strategy fell to pieces. The game’s producers assumed I’d try to take the easy route by sticking to one user name. They decided to make things interesting by informing me my user name wasn’t available in several situations. That meant I had to select some randomly. I didn’t view that as a problem since my memory has traditionally been pretty good. In those situations, I’d try to be as logical with my user name as I was with my password. Trouble was, what seemed logical 3 days, 3 weeks, 3 months or 3 years ago, isn’t necessarily consistent with what seems logical today.

Now that I have been playing the game for a few years, my head is spinning. There are days when I hit the jackpot on the first try. Other days, I’m lucky if I guess one of the two correctly. There are no longer celebrities to help you when you get stuck. The producers want to keep the game fun, so they’ve created ways to give you hints. They’ll generously send you a hint via email. All you have to do is come up with the email account you indicated when you started playing the game. Hmmm, I have 4 to choose from. If that doesn’t help, perhaps you can remember the phone number that seemed logical to reference. Hmmmm, only 3 to choose from there. Unless I happened to sign up for this part of the game before my last move; that would add 3 more numbers into the equation. If phone numbers and emails won’t work for hints, perhaps you could use the name of your best friend. Let’s see, who was I speaking to at the time? Ugh.

I’m beginning to feel I no longer want to play the game anymore. Trouble is, once you are a contestant, you are pretty much stuck. To make matters worse, the game keeps getting bigger and more involved. Almost everyone I know is playing. Passwords and passcodes are showing up everywhere. I wonder if the producers would consider adding vacuum cleaners and washing machines to the game. Now those are some passwords I wouldn’t be upset to guess wrong.

Pan Envy

Monday, November 6th, 2006

My absolute favorite thing to cook with is the 10″ Teflon coated frying pan I picked up at a discount store years ago. I believe it was a whopping $8.99. Not exactly state of the art, but budget friendly for a relatively new college grad. My pan and I have been together for about 12 years now. I’d confess it’s one of my longest lasting friendships, but that’s a sob story for another blog.

Back to my pan. A lot has happened to it since our first meeting. His shiny silver bottom is now brown and dingy. The Teflon is decorated with burner ring marks and a few shallow scratches. The handle wiggles a bit, but shows no signs of letting go just yet. All of these imperfections make me love it all the more. They are battle scars of our time together. At our best, we were a sizzling success. At our worst, charred remains of our good intentions were on an express flight to the Hefty bag.

To be honest, my pan isn’t the only thing to have changed in the past decade. My bottom isn’t what it used to be either. My brown hair is now streaked with silver. I have shallow (okay deep) scratches in what used to be the nice flat surface of my face. This is where the pan envy comes in to the equation. All of these marks of time do little to add to my appeal. I don’t look at these scuffs with the same warmth as the blemishes on my pan. Why is that? Why do I feel I have to look brand new after 12 years? My pan is getting hotter and hotter. Me, not so much.

Is it possible I could take a lesson from kitchen gear? Ah, to be able to look at my life’s markings as a sign of a adventure and accomplishment. Wouldn’t it be great to be able to revel in the stories behind the stains and the scars instead throwing money and effort into covering them up? Restoring my pan is completely out of the question. It wouldn’t be special to me anymore. It would just look like every other pan hanging on the hook at Target. Who wants that?

It’s Gonna Get Harder To Find Nemo!!!

Saturday, November 4th, 2006

Oh dear. Things aren’t looking good for Nemo. Did you catch the report released a few days ago? The one about a collapse of our oceans’ fish populations by the year 2048? Now don’t panic. We don’t have to worry about it just yet. That’s 42 years away, after all. We should be grateful the news isn’t making a big deal over something so far off. We currently have much more pressing extinctions on our hands. The disappearance of TMX Elmo from the shelves 2 months before Christmas is the real tragedy!!! Nemo is safely tucked away in his cozy coral home and the supply of America’s favorite red fuzzy buddy is exhausted. It makes complete sense that people care more about Elmo than Nemo at the moment, right? Besides, even if Nemo does disappear, it’s not like our kids don’t have tons of polyester versions of him to share with future generations. All the better since those can be tossed in the washing machine if they start to smell.

You know, the more I think about it, the less I believe we really need to worry about this population collapse. When you think of it, fish have had their fair share of time to enjoy this planet. They’ve been hogging the oceans for more years than I have the ability to conceptualize. Sure, I like fish. Nothing beats fresh Mahi-Mahi under a perfectly seasoned caper dill. We’re creative though. I’m sure 4 decades is enough time to develop a soy alternative that tastes like my favorite finned friend. There is the nagging problem about Polar Bears dying off after their food source is destroyed. That would rid us of the stress of having to worry about melting their icecaps though. Yeah, this really could work out well all around.

Gosh, I feel much better now. Good thing I didn’t overreact initially. Things happen for a reason. This doesn’t have to mean the end of the Nemo movies either. Finding Nemo 2 could be a young boy’s quest to track down Nemo’s little bones and deliver them to their rightful place at the Smithsonian Museum. Um, I do expect royalties.

Sign of the Times

Friday, November 3rd, 2006

Road trips as a kid were always fun. Mom would stock the car with treats and games so my sister and I could entertain ourselves as we rolled down the highway. One of our favorite activities was the alphabet game. If you aren’t familiar, the goal was to find words on signs that began with the letter of the alphabet you happened to be on. You’d start with ‘A’ and go to ‘Z’. Whoever completed the alphabet first, won. Your opponent wasn’t allowed to use the same word you spotted. Getting to ‘Z’ was no easy chore. That game kept us occupied for a fair amount of time.

As my infant daughter cried in the car yesterday, I started looking forward to the day when the alphabet game could keep her busy and content during our journeys. Then it hit me. If I want my daughter entertained for more than a few minutes, I’m probably going to have to come up with another distraction. The alphabet game isn’t going to work. One could get to ‘Z’ in the 3 mile drive from my front door to the Interstate entrance.

What has ruined the entertainment value of the alphabet game? Ladies and gentleman, I fear we are experiencing a sign epidemic. I’m no Signtologist, but they seem to be spreading everywhere. It’s a challenge to see grass and trees anymore. Restaurants, politicians, insurance companies, cell phone providers, hospitals, pharmaceuticals, tourism boards, auto dealers and a whole bevy of others are in an aggressive race to see who can decorate our roadways the quickest with their large billboards. A lot of expense goes into making them bright and appealing so our attention is drawn away from the task at hand and towards the important marketing message. Of course they are wasting their money. Please tell me all of these are going unread. I mean, we all have our eyes on the road while driving 70 mph, right? Right?!!! Lord knows I don’t want to pass someone driving at full throttle with a Grisham novel propped up on the steering wheel. Seeing someone with their eyes trained on the new McDonald’s salad flavors isn’t any less horrifying.

Though they may not be as fancy as the advertisers with the gigantic highway displays, local marketers have made their contribution with curbside plastic and cardboard signs. “Store Closing”, “Donate Your Car”, “Open House”, “Lower Your Bills”, “House of Nails”, “JJ’s Painting”, “Basket Bingo”, “St. Vincent’s Spaghetti Dinner”…the list goes on. Even sign making companies are joining the game. At nearly every major intersection in my urban area there is a narrow white rectangle with a phone number to call if you need a sign. Of course, sometimes it is hard to see. The limp and faded yard sale posters from 2 months ago tend to droop and obstruct the lettering.

I’m trying to figure out the reproductive nature of signs in general. I rarely, if ever, see a sign actually going up. However, each day there seems to be more and more. The moon must have something to do with the birthing process. Or could it be aliens? Signtology is based on aliens, right? All I know is their life cycle is pretty interesting (the signs’…not the aliens’). They show up abruptly and linger for weeks, months and years. Campaign signs are the most prolific. You wake up one morning and they are everywhere. They are like Cicadas, only we don’t have the 17 year reprieve between outbreaks. They return every other year and pain our eyes until their demise on the first Tuesday of November. Whatever/whoever gave them life has little interest in their expiration. Very few are respectfully put to rest on the first Wednesday of November. Many end up like the Cicadas, dead and flat on the ground patiently waiting to be reabsorbed by nature.

How did we get to this degree of sign infestation? I’m not sure. How do we fix the problem? I haven’t a clue? Where is the message of wisdom in all of this? I’ll have to think on that one. In the meantime, there are a few things you can do. Keep your eyes on the road and provide a final resting place for the weathered and expired. As for me, I’m off to invest in printing companies.

One Person’s Junk…

Thursday, November 2nd, 2006

When I was young I loved to go to flea markets with my Uncle. He collected glass bottles and enjoyed the hunt. I’d tag along with my eyes peeled for cast iron doll house furniture, hand carved wooden puzzles, Barbie clothes and Raggedy Ann dolls. It was always fun to explore the booths and tables and come home with all sorts of odds and ends. I heard the cliche’ “one person’s junk is another person’s treasure” many a time as a kid. It rang true for me. I was always delighted with my acquisitions.

Twenty-five years have passed since those youthful days of skipping down dusty rows of whatnots. I wonder if the old cliche’ still holds true? There is no question I am surrounded by quite a bit of junk these days. From carpet to ceiling, my house is pretty much covered in useless stuff. Would another person walk into my lair and gasp at all the treasures? I’m not so sure.

My doubts in my junk being another person’s treasure stems from the growing reality everyone else seems to have the same junk already! It’s no longer unique and special. Have you been to many garage sales lately? It’s like seeing your living room on someone else’s driveway. The real tragedy is when you drive by later in the day only to find the junk is still there with various price reductions marked all over. A new low is the treasure planted in someone’s front yard with a ‘FREE’ sign that has clearly been there for a while.

Looking around my home, I can spot the junk without much effort. It sticks out like a sore thumb, actually. Why I wasn’t as astute in the store, I can’t say. Must of been some pretty convincing marketing messages. They’ve done their job seeing as I still haven’t been able to part with things I’m sure I need, but haven’t found a reason to use for several years. Not only have I not been able to part with my junk, my husband and I are making a considerable investment in storage units to hide it all. That’s no where near the dollars we will spend when we purchase a larger home to make room for more. Then there is the cost the movers will charge us to box it all up and transport it to the next closet, attic or basement.

Have we gone insane? Perhaps we’ve put too much stock in believing our junk could really be a treasure. I’m not sure how it all happened and when it began. I do know when it’s going to end for me. No more useless purchases. I’m taking control of my house and stripping it of the very things that are crowding my rooms and crowding my spirit. If they were really treasures, they wouldn’t leave me feeling cramped and overwhelmed. Of course, I’ll give away what I can. It’s sad to accept; however, a fair share will be destined for the gaping hole at our modern day Treasure Island…the landfill. From now on, I’m going to treasure the things that are living and breathing. No one else has my husband. No one else has my daughter. You can’t get more special than that.

So Bashful

Wednesday, November 1st, 2006

Has anyone else noticed Sorry is avoiding introducing himself these days? I can’t figure out why he is being so bashful? It’s not like it’s hard to say “I’m Sorry.” His name isn’t ridiculously long or hard to pronounce.

His silence when meeting others is awkward to be around. I saw another guy make an attempt at introductions recently. “Hello, I’m Hurtby Whatyousaid.” Do you think Sorry said anything in response? Nope! He just shrugged his shoulders and looked away. I chimed in “by the way, he’s Sorry” just to keep things cordial. I hate having to tell others he’s Sorry. Why can’t he just say he’s Sorry himself? Maybe he has amnesia and doesn’t realize he is actually Sorry? Or maybe he’s upset with his circumstances and doesn’t want to be Sorry anymore? Whatever it is, he needs to work things out so he is capable of being Sorry again.

There have been times when Sorry seems to be making an effort, but he’s actually playing games. His real name is Sorry Ididthat. He’ll try to trick people by saying he’s Sorry Youfeelthatway. It’s so frustrating. You can totally tell people see right through him.

To be fair, I can remember some times when he’s introduced himself and people have acted weird. Maybe that’s turned him off. One person shouted “No you’re not!” What was he supposed to say to that? Another expected him to prove it with a trinket. “If you’re really Sorry you’ll buy me a necklace.” Sorry’s a good guy, but he’s not made of money. Then there are those who have told him being Sorry isn’t good enough. “If you think you’re Sorry now, just you wait!” I’m not sure how they could actually make him more Sorry than he his already, but the suggestion isn’t pleasant.

Perhaps it’s not such a mystery why my friend hasn’t been himself lately. If you happen to see Sorry, will you do me a favor? Tell him you appreciate and accept him. If we build up his confidence, maybe he won’t be so hesitant to show himself anymore.