Because... reasons.

Growing up, my parents hosted many family get-togethers at our house.  Most of these gatherings were around Christmastime.  As the youngest of the family, my main responsibility was to arrange cookies on a plate and serve them to our guests.

This is why, if I invite you to my house, chances are refreshments will be as elaborate as a plate of cookies, and no more.
If a gathering requires more, I will not host it.

This is also why, even though you've invited me to many of your gatherings, I have never invited you to mine.
Because I never have any.
It's not that I'm mooching off your parties.  It's because I can't handle hosting one as good as yours.  You know, a "good" one, like one that has food.

Although, I probably *could* manage a cookie-swapping party.  Let me think about that one.

***


I had a friend who liked to talk smack about her in-laws.  One of her favorite smack stories was the one about the awful state of one female relative's kitchen.  At least one of the characteristics of the awful kitchen sounded a lot like one of the characteristics of my kitchen.

She probably really does have a female relative with an awful kitchen, but I always wondered if she wasn't really just trying to give me a hint without hurting my feelings.
You know, as in "this relative has ALL these awful kitchen issues, but you just have this one kitchen issue that you can fix easily enough."

This is why I stopped inviting that friend over.  I wondered what else there was about my house that wasn't up to her standards.

***

I wanted to have a special 50th birthday party.  I wanted to do something fun with a few friends.
For the reasons explained previously, I did not want to host this party at my house.  I wanted to treat my friends to some nice food, something nicer than a plate of cookies, but I did not want to stress about coordinating such a tremendous feat.  I also did not want to clean my house and my awful kitchen.
I just wanted to go somewhere, do something fun, eat some food, drink some beverage, then go home alone and judge-free to my messy house and awful kitchen.
I reserved a crafty activity at the neighborhood winery with snacks and beverages.  Someone else coordinated the craft and supplies, someone else coordinated the food being served, and someone else cleaned. 

Perfect!  Just what I wanted for my special 50th birthday party.  No stress, no mess.

I invited very few special friends. One of these special friends invited herself to spent the night at my house after the party.  She had planned to drink many adult beverages and didn't want to drive home after the party. 
Yes, I should have just told her no.  But she hadn't asked.  She just *did*.

This is why, for my special no stress, no mess 50th birthday party, I cleaned my house and awful kitchen and arranged both a supper and a breakfast for someone else.

This is also why I will not invite that special friend to any more parties.

***

The Husband and I wanted to celebrate our milestone wedding anniversary.  For the reasons explained previously, we both agreed we did NOT want to host this celebration at our house.
We just wanted to spend some time with friends, family, and co-workers and feed them food and beverages.  We did not want to stress about it in any way, shape or form.

We rented a venue, a very nice place with an outdoor balcony overlooking a garden.  We wrote a check to reserve it.

We informed our closest friends, asked them to save the date.  Most of them already had plans and regretfully declined.
This left family and co-workers.  All of our family lived so far away that in order to come, we'd have to let them stay at our house.  And clean it.  Or ask them to stay in a hotel, which seemed rude.
This left co-workers.  And it seemed really wrong to throw a nice party with a balcony overlooking a garden for a so few people.
So, The Husband and I started thinking about who *else* we could invite to fill out the place. 
"We *have* to have at least 60 people!  Who else?  Who else?"
Geez, we could invite that friend who'll probably want to spend the night, so we'll have to clean. 

And food.  What should we serve?  Which caterer should we hire?  How can we order food if we don't know how many people can come?

And oh my god, we should have a slideshow!  With wedding pictures!  Which photos do you want to have on the slideshow?  None of our wedding photos are digital, we'll have to get them transferred... What format does it have to be on for the hall to play them? 

Finally we realized our delightful, carefree party was becoming everything we didn't want it to be.
So we canceled it. 
Nope, no refunds.

This is why we spent several day's pay on a reception hall rental that we never used, and felt really good about it.

Food in a Radio Station

In the radio broadcast industry, food is king.
If you want to say thank you to a DJ, drop off a box of donuts or cookies.
If you are holding a media conference or promotional event and you want the media to show up, serve food.  In fact, set up a roped off media area and put food in it to corral your reporters.

Food is king.

Following are several food stories from my years in radio. 
All are true.
I didn't realize just how much food played into my (I hate) radio experience until I started writing.

The first story was my first lesson in radio food.
It's the world's most perfect "radio food" illustration.
Now, after having spent years in the industry working with many different personalities at multiple radio stations, I don't know how I ever could have expected anything different to happen to my pizza.

***

The shift I held at my first radio job was 5pm to midnight.  While everyone else was heading home to dinner, I was just starting my work day.  Some days I would grab a bag of drive-thru on my way to the studio and eat it while I worked, but a lot of nights I ordered from a local pizza/sandwich place that delivered anything on their menu.  I called them so often that they knew by heart the specific way I'd order my sandwich.  And they'd sometimes draw pictures on the box.
One night, I ordered a pizza.
"You must have company," the sandwich guy remarked over the phone.
"Oh.  No, that's just the radio you hear in the background."
"No, it's not that.  You just usually order one sandwich.  I thought maybe you had friends today."
"Oh. No.  Just me.  I felt like pizza.  I probably won't call tomorrow though, because I'll have pizza leftovers."

I think that was the night it dawned on me that I had no friends.

The pizza arrived.
I enjoyed several slices and put the box of leftovers in the breakroom fridge.
The next day, I bypassed the fast food places knowing I had most of a pizza already waiting for me.

But when I got to the studio, the pizza box was missing from the refrigerator.
It was crushed in the trash can.  Empty.
I searched the fridge thinking someone had put the leftover pieces in another, smaller container, but I could find no trace of my pizza.  MORE THAN HALF a leftover pizza.

I grabbed the office manager before she left for the day.
"Hey, I left a pizza in the fridge last night..."
"Oh!  That was you?  Thank you!  It was delicious!"

"I... what?  You ate it?"
"Well, we all ate it.  It was there."  Matter of fact.  The same way you'd say, It rained; of course the ground is wet.
"But, I bought it.  Did anyone leave me money?"
"Honey.  If you leave food in a radio station, people are going to eat it."

It was a sh!t answer, but I would witness time and again that it was absolutely true.

 ***

At the second radio station that hired me, there was a soda vending machine.  It was unique because it was built like a chest freezer rather than a stand-up model.  You had to lift the lid to view your choices, and the can was dispensed sideways to an access panel where you could lift it out.

Every morning, I'd lift the lid to find a Diet Coke sitting on top of the display.

Diet Coke was not one of the options available for purchase, but there was one can there every day.
I ignored it for a good long time, however one day I really wanted a Diet Coke, and it was still sitting there when I opened the machine.  So, I left my coins where the Diet Coke can had been, and I took it.

The next day, there was a memo about the soda machine and how employees were not allowed to take cans that weren't for sale.
As I read the memo at my desk, the guy at the next desk leaned over and quietly told me that the office manager had come into our office the day before and had seen the can of Diet Coke opened on my desk.
According to him, she had been livid.  Apparently, she brought Diet Coke from home everyday because she couldn't buy one in the machine.  She always put it in the vending machine to keep it cold.

Two things:
1)  She didn't need to write an all-staff memo.  She had seen the can on my desk.  She knew I had taken it.  She could have and should have just talked to me about it.  Personally.  And right away rather than a day later.
2)  If she wanted to keep her soda cold, she should have put it in the staff refrigerator and/or put her name on it.

***

I walked into the break room and found a fellow co-worker pawing through a plastic grocery bag filled with loose Easter candy.
"Anything good in there?" I asked.
"Well, considering it's Easter candy and it's close to Halloween, I'm not sure what you'd consider 'good'."
"Point taken."
"Yet, I apparently have no problem eating it."
"Yes.  Radio people will eat anything that's free."
He pondered that for a moment and remarked, "You know, if you wanted to take out an entire media company with one fell swoop, all you'd have to do is leave tampered food in the break room."
"That's why no one eats the homemade cookies that the one listener keeps bringing."
"Oh.  Those get eaten, too.  Mostly by sales people who don't know what listeners are like."

***

On the subject of listener food...
One of my listeners had a mad crush on me and was not swayed by the very public fact that I was married.  One day he brought a Subway sandwich to the station as an excuse to meet me.
The receptionist tracked me down and insisted I come to the front desk and talk to the man to get him away from her.  So I went, politely accepted the package and thanked him for it.
"Aren't you going to eat it?  Sit down for a minute and have lunch with me!"  (He hadn't brought a sub for himself.)
I explained that I couldn't visit because I was in the middle of an on-air shift.  I would have to eat it later.  He was crestfallen, but he said he understood.
After he left, I dumped the sub in the trash.

Sorry.  There's nothing more suspicious than someone who looks that excited to watch you eat something that he's not going to take a bite of.

***

The afternoon news woman had accepted a pretty cool job across town doing public relations for a charity.  On her last day at the radio station, there was a giant "Good Luck, Beth" cake.
That's right, there was a giant cake.

By the time Beth came in for her afternoon shift, all that was left of her going away cake was an odd shaped piece that said, "Beth".
"Uh.  Gee.  Thanks for the cake."  She did air-quotes for "cake".

What a shame cake is a breakfast food that couldn't have been brought in later in the day, like, say, after lunch when Beth could have actually felt it had been for her.

***

At one radio station, the program director often invited my morning co-host to lunch, but they never invited me along.  When I mentioned that I'd like to be included, they explained that my schedule rarely allowed me to go when they wanted to go.  For some reason, going at a time when I was free never occurred to either of them.  Sometimes they'd bring their food back to the station and eat it in front of me. 
I suggested, "Hey, the next time you're going to bring food here, I could give you money to bring me something."  So... they stopped bringing food back to the office.

One day, the sister station's program director invited me to lunch.
He said he and my PD and my morning show partner were all going to Dairy Queen.  "You should meet us there when you're done with production."
Awesome!  Yay!  I get to go to lunch!
After my work was done, I hopped in my car and drove across town to the Dairy Queen.  On my way, I saw a car that looked like my program director's car at another restaurant on the strip.  As I passed, I saw the three of them sitting at a table in the front window.  On my way to Dairy Queen.
I turned around, drove back to this other restaurant and went inside.
"Hey!  There she is!  We didn't think you were coming!"
"You told me Dairy Queen."
"Oh yeah.  We changed our minds."

It's really hard not to take some things personally, you know?

***

Same radio station.
I'm on the air when my program director comes around and says the boss is buying everyone sundaes.  Do I want one?  Yes, I do!
I do a chair dance while the music plays, and after a time I spy the boss carrying bags of sundaes through the building and co-workers following him to the breakroom.  The program director walks past the studio window and gives me a "Hey, look!" gesture.  And I nod back.
I wait.
And wait.
And wait.

No one brings me a sundae.
Finally, I line up a string of music and run to the breakroom.  Everyone is sitting around a table filled with empty sundae cups.  "Hey," I say. "I wanted one."
The PD points.  "There's yours. We were gonna eat it because you didn't come for it.  But it's melted and no one wants it anymore."
"I thought someone would bring it to me.  You know, because I was working."

When I finally quit that job, *I* was the "bitchy one".
I wonder why.

***

The Husband and I worked mornings together for a while in a small town station located in the middle of a cornfield.  One day as we drove along the dark country road, I wondered aloud if any of the muffins that a client had brought the day before were still left in the breakroom.  (Yup, they had been a thank you gift!)  The Husband said I should go look first thing when we got to work and if I'd bring him one, he'd get our show prep started without me.
We were the first people to arrive every morning, so the building was dark when we got there. The Husband headed for the studio, and I walked to where the fridge and microwave were lined up on one side of the widest part of a long hallway.  The light switch was on the far end of the hallway, but I knew my way around well enough I didn't need it.  In the dim morning light, I could see the package of muffins on the cupboard.
Yay!

Moments later, when I entered the studio, The Husband eagerly wanted to know, "Were there any left?"
"Yeah," I told him.  "There were half a dozen.  But when I reached over to grab a couple, one of them jumped down and ran behind the fridge."

It had been a mouse.
I threw the whole package away.
I guess radio people *do* have some standards.

This Week in Random

Omelettes

The Husband and I had a conversation about omelettes last night.  He told me about his first omelette and how he was amazed by how wonderful it was.
It wasn't just breakfast eggs... it was breakfast with more breakfast inside it.

Later, I declared that I required ice cream.
The Husband said, "We have vanilla and chocolate downstairs in the freezer."
I shook my head.  I wanted ice cream with stuff in it like candy pieces or chunks of cookie batter.
"Oh," The Husband said, "You want an ice cream omelette."

He *so* gets me.

***

Someone sent me a message that my blog has a bug that redirects visitors to another website after a few minutes.  Have you experienced that?
I've been squatting here for half an hour and nothing weird has happened.

Thoughts?

***

Because of ^this^ message, I am going through all the comments on all of my posts and deleting any that contain links to other places.

1)  I'm sorry if this ruins your backlinking juice (if you don't know what that means, then it's not something that's going to bother you)

2)  You guys are so hilarious in the comments that I get bogged down reading old posts because I need to know what I wrote that made you respond in such an awesome manner.

3)  Sorry I've pulled so many old posts from this blog.  There was a point when the boys expressed some discomfort with me telling stories about them, so I yanked a bunch of those down out of respect for their wishes. 

***

Did you know you can customize your Blogger broken link message?
I didn't think I knew that... but somewhere along the line, I must have done it.

Look here:

This is so totally the kind of message I would have written that I know I did it even though I don't remember doing it.

So, your next question is "How did you do that, Roses?"
And my answer is, "I have no idea, but I'm pretty sure I Googled something like 'how to make a custom 404 on Blogger'." 

Try that.

***

What to do (and not do) when someone dies

(I started writing this when Mom died.  During Lily's memorial, I wished some folks had read it.  I do not consider this list the be-all, end-all... so, if you have additional suggestions, feel free to mention them in the comments.)

It's okay if you don't know what to say when someone close to you loses someone close to them.
DO say something.
You can e-mail, snail mail, or just say in person, "I don't know what to say.  I'm so sorry."

It's that simple.
Please do that.
It truly is enough.

***

DO share memories.

If you have a story about something the deceased said or did that means something special to you, please tell it.  You can share this at the funeral, in a card, or in passing several days/weeks/years later.  Some members of the family may have never known about that side of their loved one.  They will certainly appreciate that their loved one touched your life.

If you have photos, give them.  A photocopy on a piece of plain paper is fine.

***

DO NOT post anything on Facebook unless it is in response to something immediate family has posted.
DO NOT initiate any post on your own.
It is not your place to spread that kind of news on that venue.  Ever.

***

DO NOT try to make the bereaved feel better.
DO NOT say, "S/He isn't suffering anymore," or "S/He is in heaven."
These things are okay for the bereaved to say.  They are not okay for you to say them.

Say you are sorry.  Then shut up.
If you get halfway through saying the wrong thing, just stop.  No one will ask you to finish.

***

DO NOT compare your pain.

Imagine you and I are downhill skiing.  We both crash.  You have broken a leg.
As we lie in pain on the snowy hillside waiting for rescue, I say to you, "Quit crying.  I have two broken legs."
Does it make the pain in your one leg go away?  Can you now carry us both down the hill because your pain is less than mine?
No.

Pain is pain.
Even if yours is worse than mine, I still hurt.

DO NOT share what awful tragedy someone else is experiencing.  It will not help.
This is neither the time nor place.  Suck it up, and keep it to yourself.

***

DO bring food.  Bring whatever you are really good at making.
Bring a reasonable amount. 

In the case of an elderly widow/er, DO NOT bring a giant casserole that can be eaten over several days.  Instead, bring individual servings in reheatable containers that can be frozen and chosen one meal at a time.
Even better, package it in disposable containers that do not need to be washed and returned to you.

People brought Dad food, and he ended up giving it away.  It felt like too much.
So, when I made my dad two loaves of banana bread, my sister suggested I slice it all up right away and put pairs of slices in the freezer.  A much more managable serving size, you see.  He won't look at a whole loaf and think how he'll never be able to eat "all that" by himself.

DO NOT bring a dish because it was the deceased person's "favorite". 
We'll sit there thinking how that person won't get to eat any of it.

***

DO NOT buy or make a special token to commemorate the lost loved one.

Dear sweet lord, people.  Do you have any idea how many possessions dead people leave behind?  Everything is a souvenir.  Please don't make me a butterfly, or an angel, or a paper flower...
It's a lovely gesture, yes, but it's just one more thing we have to deal with, and one more thing we'll hate to throw out..
If it makes you feel better, you keep it.  With our love.

***

DO offer to help in anyway, if you can.

DO NOT expect the family to call you and tell you what they need.
Instead, think of a few things you could do.
Drive the kids to events, to school.  Cook a meal.  Wash windows.  Shovel snow.  Organize a photo album or a closet.  Make a run to the store or pharmacy.
Then, call in a day or two and offer to do that thing.

***

My jury is out on the issue of taking photos at a funeral.
For now, I'm gonna say this is something the immediate family can do but you DO NOT.

Really.
Someone lined up my family at Mom's funeral to get a picture.
Know what *I* see in that picture?
Mom is missing, that's what.
"Here.  Enjoy this picture reminding you that your mother will never, ever be in another family photo."

No, my jury is back.
They definitely say DO NOT take photos at a funeral, or a visitation, or the dinner afterwards, or while the family is writing out thank you notes.

***

DO NOT expect someone to "snap out of it" after the funeral is over.  Just because the body is layed to rest does not mean a broken heart and soul is layed to rest as well.  Someone mourning the loss of a loved one has an entire year ahead where he/she will be reminded of the empty place at the table with every holiday and birthday and anniversary.

The first year... is the worst year.

And even after that, it doesn't get easier; it only gets more familiar.

***
Thank you for reading.
It shows you care about people.

This week in Random...

Why does take-out soup have to be SO hot?

***

Did I happen to mention I have a box of boobs on my desk?
No?
Huh.

They belonged to my breast-cancer surviving mother.
For some reason, I thought I could find someplace that could pass them along to someone in need, so I brought them home with me.
So far, no takers.
Anyone need a couple right-side boobs?
Nearest I can tell, they are size 3.
???

Thumper?
On your Walk for Boobies, you could throw them out like candy at a parade.
Lemme know...

***

I know what you're thinking now.
"They make prosthetic boobs in left and right side versions?"

Yes, they do.

***

I grew up watching TV shows like Gomer Pyle and Hogan's Heroes.  I had the impression that furlough was a good thing.
Not so much when you work in the private sector.

***

Btw, you can't spell "furlough" without F.U.

***

When it comes to skills and talent, there is no difference between an amateur and a professional except a professional is better at convincing someone to pay them for what they do.

***

My children like the humor of The Smothers Brothers.
They stayed up till 10pm last night listening to "Sibling Revelry" on CD.
Very cool.

This week's gripes:

There is only one reason why I patronize your hair salon, and it's because you are six blocks from my house.
And I prefer to support my local economy.

It's not because you are the only salon in town.  It's not because you are the most convenient salon in my life either, being as how there's one across the street from where I work.  I pass right by it as I walk to my car.

It's also not because you are cheap.  Because you're not.

I walk into your salon because you are right there today.

So, if I stand in clear sight of two stylists and the chick on reception duty is in the back room where I can see her via mirrors which means she can certainly see me, then someone darned well better say something to me in a timely manner and not leave me standing there like the ugly girl at the middle school dance.
But, no one said boo to me.
Until I turned to leave.

Guess what, sister?
You're too late.
I won't be back.

***

How come my lingerie bag is always in the way when I'm doing the laundry, but when I need it I can't find it anywhere?
I half suspect The Husband used it to pack his camping gear again, but there's a very good chance he simply moved it (because it was in his way) when he did the laundry.

***

Yeah.
I hate little kids (that's right, hate. little. kids.) who think kicking someone in the head is the proper response to being tagged during a game of TAG.

Also not too fond of the dad who sends the victim home to an empty house just to get him out of the yard.
Side note, there, Sport:  "Out of site" does not equal "out of responsibility".
A formal apology from your little brat is still acceptable, though.
We're waiting.

Random Friday

Actions speak louder than words, unless those words are posted on Facebook.

***

I don't know in which context this phrase would ever come up, but I hope it catches on:

"MILF and cookies"

***

I'd sure like to know how an electronic digital clock can lose time.  The battery-operated one, okay, old batteries.  But why the electronic one?

***

Oh, and here's a tip:
If you know someone with a terminally ill family member, someone who carries her cell phone with her at all times in order to take a final phone call from said ill family member before that beloved family member passes on, someone whose inner soul cries out in despair everytime her cell rings because it might be THE call... if you know this person, DO NOT frickin' text that person at 4am Sunday morning to wish her a Happy Mother's Day.
Especially if that person is not your mother.
'cause you can stuff that greeting up your well-meaning ass.
At 4am.

Asshat.

***

Furthermore, if you have a co-worker with a terminally ill family member, and you ask her "How's your mom?" and before she can answer you announce that you have a friend with anal cancer ("Can you believe it? Anal cancer?"), and even as your co-worker opens her mouth to say something you continue on with a laundry list of people you know with all kinds of cancers... if this is you, you are a piece of work.
I truly do not know what to do with you.

Random Breakfast

The Husband took me out to lunch Saturday afternoon.  When I opened the menu at our local family restaurant, I suddenly had a craving for their french toast.  The restaurant owner brought coffee as The Husband and I discussed having breakfast for lunch.

Owner:  Haven't you had breakfast yet?
Me:  I did, but I haven't had your breakfast.
Husband:  Apparently, your breakfast is better.
Owner:  Oh?  Who made breakfast this morning?
Husband:  I did.
Owner:  Oh...
Me:  His breakfast is wonderful!  But with your breakfast, I don't have to wash dishes.

***

Saturday evening, The Husband informed the boys they'd be making my Mother's Day breakfast the next morning.
"What would you like for breakfast?" he asked me, "... keeping in mind who will be preparing it."
I replied, "Um, raw toast?"

Random Friday

Says Elder Son:  You know why we don't have any superheroes in real life?  It's because we got rid of all the phone booths.

***

I had a dream that John Cusack was my boyfriend.  I told him it didn't seem fair that I knew so much more about him than he knew about me because I'd seen all his movies.
He leaned in close like he was sharing a secret.   "Those movies," he whispered, "They're not real."

This week in random...

There has never been a conversation my children have attempted to hold with me through a bathroom door that couldn't have waited until I came out.

It's as if the sound of the door shutting triggers something that makes them suddenly want to talk to me.

When will they outgrow this?  When?

***

I hate the Scouts.

There.
I said it.

I didn't like the (mis)organization a whole lot when the boys were Cubs, but I absolutely detest them now.

***

I haven't slept well this week.
I'm crankier than usual.
Deal with it.

***

I got a call from a listener.  She had heard an advertisement on our station about Client A having a conference at PizzaPlace.  Could I please tell her what day that was going to be?
Well, no.  I can't.  Because we don't keep scripts of every dang commercial we run here in the studio. 
How'z about if you know that it's Client A and you know that it's being held at PizzaPlace, you call either one of them?
Huh?
Why would you freakin' call the radio station when you can call either of the people who WANT YOUR BUSINESS!

And while we're at it, some other rocket scientist called me to ask if the mall was open.
Why not CALL THE FREAKIN' MALL?

Do you call your mom to ask what time the post office opens?
"Hey, sis, sorry to bother you at work, but do you know what's the lunch special at Restaurant A, today?"

If you'll excuse me, I need to call the billboard company now to get a phone number they have printed on a health club's billboard they've got on the interstate.
*sheesh*

***

This week in Random

If you're cleaning out your closets and you come across piles of crap that your child does not use anymore, do not send it to your nieces and nephews just because they are the same age as your child was when he/she loved that crap. 
Same age + same genetics does not equal same interests.
Your sisters and brothers know you're cleaning out your crap, and we they will not appreciate being your dumping ground.
Just sayin'...

***

Quick sister update:
She has lost enough hair that she's just gone ahead and shaved the rest.  I have sent five crocheted hats, and she tells me she mostly wears them to bed because her hair stubble feels funny on the pillow otherwise.
She's like my own personal Chemo Barbie doll to dress up.

She says she's saved her hair in a Baggie for me so I can crochet it into a hat.
Heh.
(She only thinks I wouldn't.)

***

I like Facebook a lot more than I wanted to, but blogging is SO much better for stories.

***

When you drop your books in the library's after-hours box, you should have your car keys in your pocket and not in the same hand that's holding the books.
Just sayin'...

This week in Random

I was sitting in the studio and The Husband was across the glass in the news booth when Tiger Woods gave his "sincere" apology last week.  Whenever The Husband wasn't talking into his microphone, I dialed the news booth extension number to rattle off stupid golfing puns to The Husband.  He chuckled politely every time.

Finally, when he'd had enough, he answered his phone, "Hey, quit calling me at work!"

***

Overheard:  It's no fun playing Guess Who with you because you're psychic.

***

Me:  Enjoy your half-day of school!
He:  I'll enjoy the half that's not school.

This Week in Random:

I get a lot of hits from people Googling "love bug" images.
Consistently.
They get this Garfield cartoon.

***

Note to my surly son:

Dude;

If you spend your day mumbling into your collar because you are pouting and slouched over, and if you respond to the question, "What did you say?" with the answer, "Nevermind," you lose the privilege of complaining that no one listens to you.

Love,
Mom
 
***
 
The Husband has three alarm clocks:
 - He has an electric, digital clock.
 - In case there in a power outage overnight, he has a backup battery operated clock.
 - In case the batteries wear down overnight, he has a backup windup clock.
 
Which makes me wonder why he doesn't just use the windup clock.
 
::shrug::

Doesn't matter all that much to me as long as he remembers to turn them all off on the weekends.

A little bit of random radio

When I was a morning show co-host, we had a local lady known as Susan, the Singing Psychic. She would come into the studio once a month and sing readings to listeners. In the radio world, she was gold. The phones lit up all morning until she left.

Our general manager hated the days she came in because she took up so much air time that we played very few songs on those mornings. But, he understood that she was popular, and phone calls meant people were listening.

Then, one day a client complained and threatened to pull his advertising, and we couldn't have her anymore.

The only thing I hate more than people who wave their money to get what they want is the people who give them what they want and take the money.


***

My headphones are unmistakably mine because the ear pads are crusted with makeup from my cheeks.
The right ear more than the left because I often slide that side off to answer the phone and then slide it back.

Just a little something you probably didn't want to know about radio.

You're welcome.

Random Lunch with Richmond

(We lunched earlier this month, but I'm posting this late so as not to have spoiled any Christmas surprises.)

Richmond:  (with a note of buyer's remorse)  We got the girls electric guitars.
Me:  We ordered fire sticks for Younger Son.
Richmond:  Fire sticks?  For juggling?  With fire?
Me:  Yeah.
Richmond:  ::blink::  Yeah.  I feel better about the electric guitars now.

***

Me:  Younger Son has had a rough year.  Broke his nose at school, fell on a tent spike at scouts... This  weekend, he fell on the sledding hill and his snow board flew up and caught his ear.
Richmond:  Did it bleed?
Me:  Yeah.  He walked home all by himself.  Bled on the carpet.  He'll have a good scar.
Richmond:  (shakes head)  Dontcha just wanna wrap him up in bubble wrap?
Me:  (nods for a moment, then shakes head)  Oh, hell no.  We bought him fire sticks!

Random Saturday Morning

7:30am
I am writing about Younger Son's summer of juggling (which I will share with you when it is finished) when I hear footsteps behind me.  It is Younger Son.
He asks, "Why are you typing so loud?" and then goes back to bed.

8:00am
The Husband rustles around in the kitchen and suddenly emits a sound only dogs can hear.
"What the matter, dear?"
"I'm almost out of coffee!"  And after some whimpering, "I think I can get a half a cup out of this..."

8:30am
The Husband and I are reading the newspaper at the kitchen table when Elder Son wanders by, looks at the clock on the stove and moans.
"What's wrong, son?"
"I thought I slept in longer than that!"

Random Sunday Musings

Elder Son lifts his t-shirt to show me the large scratch he received during soccer practice.
Says the Husband, “Hey, look at those stomach muscles he’s got!”
Says I, “Wow. You’ve got quite a four pack there.”
Protests Elder Son, “What? There’s two more!”

***

I am driving Younger Son to meet his marching band’s bus. They’ll be gone for five hours to a parade and carnival, and I will miss him.
But he asks me, “You’re not really going to stay until the bus leaves, are you?”
“Don’t you want me to?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to wait until you get on the bus?”
“Not really.”
“Can I at least hug you and kiss you in front of all the other kids?”
“Only if all the other moms are.”

***

I return home from dropping off Younger Son to find The Husband and Elder Son participating in a jovial battle of wits.
For example:
Me: Why are there lip prints on the window?
Husband: Because the neighbor’s 14-year-old daughter walked by.
Elder Son: WHAT?! Shut up!

There are several exchanges when I finally interrupt.
“I see from the nature of today’s mood that we need to set some ground rules.”
“You..." I turn to the Husband, “are not allowed to harass Elder Son with ‘your momma’ jokes.”

Carry on...

Random Letters to No One

Hey newspaper subscriber,

It was brought to my attention today that it's very common for people to call the circulation desk and tell the operators, "Nobody on my street got their paper today."

When in fact, only ONE person didn't get their paper.

And THAT person hadn't talked to any of their neighbors about their papers.
Probably ever.

So, on any day that you don't get your paper, I invite you, on behalf of my son who is a newspaper carrier, to go ahead and call in a complaint, but don't freak out the twelve-year-old who has your route by saying NO ONE got their paper when you really don't know that for a fact.

***

Hey school employee,

If you need paperwork from me, please remember that I'm a grown up.
Don't talk down to me like I'm a student who left their backpack on the bus.
You scolding me for HAVING a DAMN BUSY LIFE that keeps me from remembering one piece of paper that you never DID give me a deadline for returning isn't going to make me want to help you.

Because, damn, lady, it's pretty obvious that I don't give a care about my kid nearly HALF as much as you do, huh? What was his name again?

***

Hey postal carrier,

I'm sorry I couldn't clear a better path through the snow to my mailbox this winter. I did try.
Thank you for managing to deliver my mail anyway. You're a peach!

***

Dear telemarketer,

If you call a radio station, there's a VERY good chance the DJ is recording the call and will embarass you and/or your company mercilessly. Then they'll play the call back over the air for their audience over and over and over. For years.

So, to save you, I am offering you this advice: listen.
When your prey answers the phone, listen to how they answer the phone.

There's a good chance you've auto-dialed a radio station if:

1) They answer the phone with the letter "W" or "K" followed by three more letters of the alphabet.

2) They answer the phone with one letter and a number. B-93, or Q-102, for example.

3) When they answer, they aren't so much talking to you as much as they are shouting at you. "You've got the Morning Zoo! Who's this!"

4) You hear a burst of static and the person on the other end of the line has started speaking before you can hear them. This means they've connected you, and they're already recording if not speaking to you live on the air. Hang up.

I tell you this because I care.
And because mostly I want you to stop trying to sell me stuff while I'm working.

Random Shorts

He: Hey, you look pretty!
Me: Really? How'd that happen?

***

Dreamed one night that I was housesitting for a co-worker who was vacationing with his wife in their new motor home. The next day, I asked this co-worker if he had, by chance, just bought a new camping trailer. He replied, "Funny you should ask..." They, along with another couple, had plans to rent a motor home for spring break.

And he doesn't even like camping in a trailer.

***

One boy smells.
Multiple boys reek.

Geez.
The whole basement smells like an armpit.

***

Recently dreamed I met Tammi for lunch.  In the dream, she was recruiting employees at the mall, accepting applications, and handing out t-shirts.
When I e-mailed her and told her about this dream, she replied, "Oh, what I would do to be able to meet you for lunch! That *is* a dream. And funny you mention the t-shirts. I just got 3 huge boxes that I had to sort and hand out."

Should this be freaking me out?

***

Grand.
This guy was just elected as our new mayor.
Thbbbt.

(He did apologize at the next meeting, so I guess that counts for something.)

Friday Five

Five things I have WAY too much/many of... yet cannot stop buying more of:

1) Bookbags - Tote bags, grocery bags, book bags... I like them all. The colors! The sizes! Is it wrong that what I really want is a tote bag so I can carry around all these nifty bags?

2) Magnetic shopping list pads - I blame dollar stores for this one. "Do you need another shopping list?" "No, but it's only a dollar! And it's got duckies on it!"

3) Yarn - especially garage sale and second-hand-store yarn. Because it's super cheap. And if I buy enough of it, eventually enough of the colors will complement each other so I can make an afghan out of them. Just a few more, and I'm there...

4) Stationery sets - so pretty! With the envelopes that match the paper! Oo, and there are stickers, too! I sure wish I actually wrote letters.

5) Stephen King books - Well, technically, it's a collection, so I'm allowed to have as many as I can find (right?). But, after Gerald's Game came out, and I started having those freaky dreams about people coming into the house and me not being able to lock the doors... I haven't actually read half of the Kings I own.