If I did this right, you are seeing Max who is 2 months next week
Edit - - I modified the link to bring it within the post rather than external to Kodak. I’ll give some lessons on posting pictures in my next post. ~ bjw
125 comments April 27th, 2007
Thanks Bryan for fixing my post problems!
It has been fun to check over at “Argh Inc” to see the different covers that are put on Jenny’s books in foreign countries. It has been fun to read the discussion about covers having nothing to do with the content inside. So it begs the question- well at least to me,
“Are you really the cover that you present?”
I could start off with the obvious fact, that each of us has many covers: mother, wife, friend, sister, crazy lady next door. But, what really, is your true cover?
As many things were being revealed over there, a lot of covers were blown. (Oh I HAD to get THAT one in there.) J As I also read through the things you all did on the “what did you do today post,” I was astounded. No, really, I was exhausted! The CB’s are awesome achievers! OVER-ACHIEVERS! WAY OVER OVER-ACHIEVERS! No way could I even think of accomplishing half of that. You exhaust me.
Besides my sister, husband and sons, there are less than a handful of people that know that I suffer from depression and panic attacks. The day that you all were doing that huge list of things, I spent on the couch.
My cover is the woman in charge of her life. She isn’t afraid to take on anything or anyone. She can organize the hell out of any event; just get out of her way.
My cover needs an adjustment, I know, but it is hard to admit that you can’t do what you have always done. It gets worse as I get older. It gets worse as my parents deal with health issues. I struggle. I nap. I try to lead a happy life. I look for good news. I try to hang with good positive people. I’ve had to leave some people behind that never had a nice thing to say. I don’t watch scary shows or movies. Thus the Pollyanna! The only sad thing I watch is Grey’s Anatomy. Seriously.
There are good days and bad weeks. There are good weeks and bad days. I work like crazy during the good days and recharge and let the bad days alone. They pop up like uninvited guests. I have to be really careful taking my medicine and of triggers. My body doesn’t handle adrenaline properly, and the whole fight or flight thing pretty much lives with me all the time. Mostly I tell it to take a nap and then we do. Things like Virginia Tech put me on the couch for days.
That is why I read romance novels- for the HEA. I read them constantly. I love them. They truly are therapy.
I’m changing my cover to the grandma holding Max while checking in at the CB Bar and Grill. The Cherry Bombs are THE bomb. Thanks for being there.
What is your current cover? Would you change it if you could? Why? Carry on!
111 comments April 26th, 2007
I was going to e-mail this to you all, but, well, the majority of you suck at e-mails, and we’re reaching 100 responses, so…
SOME IMPORTANT INFORMATION THAT EVERY WOMAN (but pay attention louis and byran, and tell your female friends) SHOULD KNOW….
My doc in Omaha used to tell me that the conventional “stress” test was ineffective for women because it is calibrated for men…this lends credence to that.
I was aware that female heart attacks are different, but this is the best description I’ve ever read. You all take care out there!
Women and heart attacks (Myocardial infarction)
Did you know that women rarely have the same dramatic symptoms that men have when experiencing heart attack…you know, the sudden stabbing pain in the chest, the cold sweat, grabbing the chest & dropping to the floor that we see in the movies. Here is the story of one woman’s experience with a heart attack:I had a completely unexpected heart attack at about 10:30 PM with NO prior exertion, NO prior emotional trauma that one would suspect might’ve brought it on. I was sitting all snugly & warm on a cold evening, with my purring cat in my lap, reading an interesting story my friend had sent me, and actually thinking, “A-A-h, this is the life, all cozy and warm in my soft, cushy Lazy Boy with my feet propped up.” A moment later, I felt that awful sensation of indigestion, when you’ve been in a hurry and grabbed a bite of sandwich and washed it down with a dash of water, and that hurried bite seems to feel like you’ve swallowed a golf ball going down the esophagus in slow motion and it is most uncomfortable. You realize you shouldn’t have gulped it down so fast and needed to chew it more thoroughly and this time drink a glass of water to hasten its progress down to the stomach. This was my initial sensation—the only trouble was that I hadn’t taken a bite of anything since about 5:00 p.m.
“After that had seemed to subside, the next sensation was like little squeezing motions that seemed to be racing up my SPINE (hind-sight, it was probably my aorta in spasm), gaining speed as they continued racing up and under my sternum (breast bone, where one presses rhythmically when administering CPR). This fascinating process continued on into my throat and branched out into both jaws.
“AHA!! NOW I stopped puzzling about what was happening–we all have read and/or heard about pain in the jaws being one of the signals of an MI happening, haven’t we? I said aloud to myself and the cat, “Dear God, I think I’m having a heart attack !” I lowered the foot rest, dumping the cat from my lap, started to take a step and fell on the floor instead. I thought to myself “If this is a heart attack, I shouldn’t be walking into the next room where the phone is or anywhere else…….but, on the other hand, if I don’t, nobody will know that I need help, and if I wait any longer I may not be able to get up in moment.”
“I pulled myself up with the arms of the chair, walked slowly into the next room and dialed the Paramedics… I told her I thought I was having a heart attack due to the pressure building under the sternum and radiating into my jaws. I didn’t feel hysterical or afraid, just stating the facts. She said she was sending the Paramedics over immediately, asked if the front door was near to me, and if so, to unbolt the door and then lie down on the floor where they could see me when they came in.
“I then laid down on the floor as instructed and lost consciousness, as I don’t remember the medics coming in, their examination, lifting me onto a gurney or getting me into their ambulance, or hearing the call they made to St. Jude ER on the way, but I did briefly awaken when we arrived and saw that the Cardiologist was already there in his surgical blues and cap, helping the medics pull my stretcher out of the ambulance. He was bending over me asking questions (probably something like “Have you taken any medications?”) but I couldn’t make my mind interpret what he was saying, or form an answer, and nodded off again, not waking up until the Cardiologist and partner had already threaded the teeny angiogram balloon up my femoral artery into the aorta and into my heart where they installed 2 side by side stents to hold open my right coronary artery.
“I know it sounds like all my thinking and actions at home must have taken at least 20-30 minutes before calling the Paramedics, but actually it took perhaps 4-5 minutes before the call, and both the fire station and St. Jude are only minutes away from my home, and my Cardiologist was already to go to the OR in his scrubs and get going on restarting my heart (which had stopped somewhere between my arrival and the procedure) and installing the stents.
“Why have I written all of this to you with so much detail? Because I want all of you who are so important in my life to know what I learned first hand.”
1. Be aware that something very different is happening in your body not the usual men’s symptoms, but inexplicable things happening (until my sternum and jaws got into the act ). It is said that many more women than men die of their first (and last) MI because they didn’t know they were having one, and commonly mistake it as indigestion, take some
Maalox or other anti-heartburn preparation, and go to bed, hoping they’ll feel better in the morning when they wake up….which doesn’t happen. My female friends, your symptoms might not be exactly like mine, so I advise you to call the Paramedics if ANYTHING is unpleasantly happening that you’ve not felt before. It is better tohave a “false alarm” visitation than to risk your life guessing what it might be!2. Note that I said “Call the Paramedics”. Ladies, TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE! Do NOT try to drive yourself to the ER–you’re a hazard to others on the road, and so is your panicked husband who will be speeding and looking anxiously at what’s happening with you instead of the road. Do NOT call your doctor–he doesn’t know where you live and if it’s at night you won’t reach him anyway, and if it’s daytime, his assistants (or answering service) will tell you to call the Paramedics. He doesn’t carry the equipment in his car that you need to be saved! The Paramedics do, principally OXYGEN that you need ASAP. Your Dr. will be notified later.
3. Don’t assume it couldn’t be a heart attack because you have a normal cholesterol count. Research has discovered that a cholesterol elevated reading is rarely the cause of an MI (unless it’s unbelievably high, and/or accompanied by high blood pressure.) MI’s are usually caused by long-term stress and inflammation in the body, which dumps all sorts of deadly hormones into your system to sludge things up in there. Pain in the jaw can wake you from a sound sleep. Let’s be careful and be aware. The more we know, the better chance we could survive…
A cardiologist says if everyone who gets this mail sends it to 10 people, you can be sure that we’ll save at least one life.
89 comments April 24th, 2007
We’re over 100 comments again, so I’ll give Dee some breathing room on her post and give it a go.
On another blog, BCB mentioned her personal vision of me. And that lead me to think of how I envision my fellow CBs.
So, JenT?
I picture this woman typing fingers on fire, in the bleachers at a hockey game, sneaking furtive glances up at the ice every few minutes, checking on dear kid 1, 2, or 3.
Or this lithe, supple dance teacher clutching DK1, 2, and/or 3 by the arms, leaping over a hedge and throwing open the van door, all while muttering, “What is his motivation?” (And did I mention the garage door is hanging off the back bumper?)
For Andi, I picture a beautiful living room, a well-stuffed chaise in the corner, under the window. She’s reclining in the sunlight, feet up, bon-bons at hand, the latest romance in her hands. And then the camera pulls back to reveal a DS racing into the room, tossing his backpack in the corner as he hollers about needing someone to help him practice his catching. Then the camera goes back to Andi, leaping off the chaise with a huge grin on her face as she races out to the yard with her DS, a catcher’s mitt in hand, and two dogs nipping at her heels. (Of course, the camera catches her sneaking another bon-bon on the way.)
For CMS, I picture her in a cozy cottage (you know the one, that little garden cottage that’s featured in every warm and fuzzy English story). She’s surrounded by rescued animals - the one-eyed cat, a hyper dog, a lobster in the tank in the dining room. And somewhere in all that seeming chaos, she hides a state-of-the-art laptop and a collection of “demon” dolls for writing inspiration.
How do you picture your fellow CBs?
112 comments April 23rd, 2007
This is not my weekend but we are well over 100 posts now so I’ll fill in until WAPAKGRAM gets a chance to jump in.
This is how I spent my Saturday so far. Got up and threw load of clothes in wash, shook out bathroom rugs, swept and changed the towels. I had done the scrubbing part last night but ran out of energy before I finished. Then I took the cat to the vets for her shots. Which reminds me I still need to take in a stool sample.
Back home to switch the clothes to the dryer, grab the grocery list and bag of library books (and leave the cat off). Spent a wonderful hour or so in our still feels so new local public library. Its soooo pretty. Got a nice bag full to work on for the next few weeks. Then over to the hardware store to buy weedkiller, spackle, snapdragons, and bug killer. Spring is in the air and that means the ants are looking for a dry home.
Stopped by Starbucks for an iced latte and the weather was so gorgeous I sat outside and called a girlfriend I hadn’t spoken to in waaay too long. We had a nice long chat while I sipped. Then over to the wine store for … well you figure it out. Then to the grocery store which is not my favorite place to shop because I always end up missing stuff and have to go back to that aisle. It takes me forever to get through the store but I got everything on the list.
Then home, drag everything inside and pull stuff out of the dryer to fold. Go outside and liberally spray weed killer (Hank? I can’t feel my roots Hank. Hank?). Also sprayed bug stuff liberally around the foundation of the house and around the deck posts. That’ll teach those critters to mess with me.
Upstairs to sand down a previous spackle job and install new towel rod. And in case you are not impressed it involved using toggle bolts and I have never done this before. I’ve also never spackled before. Don’t ask. It could be less obvious but I think its fairly neat. Not bad for a first time job anyway. Then of course I had a heck of a mess to vacuum up. But its done. I’ve got another spackle job to go yet but I’m too pooped so it will have to wait until tomorrow. I’m giving myself the rest of the day off.
What did you do today?
138 comments April 21st, 2007
*** I am proud of all the people who have participated in the recent conversations over at ArghInk, both those who left messages and those who read and discussed in different venues. ***
I attended the Museum Store Association Annual Meeting and Expo this weekend. I have to write it up for work. It will be fairly dry write up. But since I have y’all I’m going to write it up with a bit more juice.
The conference started Friday, but let’s start on Thursday. Thursday when major airlines were cancelling flights and Denver weather casters were warning of major blizzards on Friday. Thursday when I wasn’t packed because I didn’t have to be in Denver until Friday morning. Yep, that Thursday. I scrounged and got a room in Denver, threw (some of) my clothes in a bag and headed out the door. After staying the night in a not too bad room (if you don’t mention the door locky thing that didn’t lock) I headed off to the conference. In beautiful Colorado spring weather with not a flake of snow to be seen.
What really makes a conference is not so much the venue, the city, or the weather but the people.
Friday was lunch on your own- and since I’m a shy retiring kind of girl I stood up- looked around- and said, “Who wants to do lunch?” Everyone had plans, but then I found Esther, who has wonderful fun red hair and a wicked sense of humor, and is a real live honest to goodness artist who does modern stuff that is wow, wandering around the lobby so we went and had fun. Oh, and Esther has three pairs of red shoes, I love red shoes. I love people who wear red shoes, and Esther has THREE pair.
Marilu- from Arizona- with a boot- okay, it was a logo for an art show they do- but she had this boot on everything- and it was popular- and it said “Cowgirl Up!” Marilu became a grandma for the first time yesterday. I called Arizona and mom and Baby Lillian are doing fine. Marilu was my partner in crime. I wish you all could meet her. She was fun, had a great sense of reality when it comes to this thing we do, and most important of all, she laughed at my jokes.
Karen works at a planetarium where she does so many other jobs than just the store. And judging by her enthusiasm does them well. She didn’t stay for the entire thing because she went and spent a few days with her mom and sister in the mountains.
Margaret and Shirley from Michigan were fun. And the most encouraging thing about them was when this scary lady hollered at them as they were walking back to their hotel they didn’t call the cops, they went to dinner with her, Karen, and Marilu. A most amazing dinner it was too.
Doss- man if you’re ever in the Cayman Islands look him up- nice, gentlemanly, good looking and did I mention nice-
Talked with folks who work in Jazz, sports, house museums, state museums, local history, modern art, military memorials and who knows what other kinds of museums. And they were all neat people. Had participants in from all over the country, Canada, the UK, Australia and New Zealand, the Cayman Islands, and Germany.
And the speakers- MSA has some short comings in their conferences, but it’s not in their speakers. They do a great job of bringing in speakers that are fun, entertaining, and inspiring. I went to two presentations by Rick Segel one on Win/Win Negotiating the other on Advertising on a Shoestring Budge- both were wonderful. If you are in a situation where you have to communicate with someone else then I highly recommend subscribing to his newsletter.
Erik Wahl paints, talks, and does upside down portraits of Einstein- he also leaves you going, “Wow!” as he talks about thinking outside the box and looking at things in a new light.
The original speaker scheduled for the last two sessions I went to broke his foot and couldn’t be there. A friend of his, Thom Winninger, stepped in and wowed the crowd. And I got an autographed book out of it. Very high energy- talked about finding your niche and doing that one thing you do well and marketing it right.
The boss is interested in theories and stuff I bring back from a conference. The volunteers are interested in new items I have for the store. But y’all are interested in the people. It’s nice to be able to share some of my new friends with my old friends. Thanks for listening.
And as to a topic of discussion to follow this post. I’m not sure there is one. Museums you have enjoyed? Neat people you have met when you didn’t expect to? Funky weather forecasting? I’m not sure. But really, does this group need a topic?
132 comments April 18th, 2007
Spending a minimum of five hours a day in a car for five consecutive days gives one plenty of time to think. Despite that, I still haven’t figured out how to share the Kinsey weekend with everyone. Bryan suggested chronological order. Me’s the one who took notes, I think she should be the one writing the post. I’m still overwhelmed from the whole experience.
It was difficult to keep the supersecret trip a surprise for Bryan. I left home day early so that I could pick Me up in Detroit. For the record, the border guard was highly suspicious of all the friends I had spread out across the country like that. I thought he was going to call Cathy and Bryan to confirm their friendship. When I threw Me into the equation, he didn’t believe me(not Me). Once he let me pass, I raced to Me’s house before he changed his mind. And she was there waiting with chocolates in hand;cherrybombs and Moot(that was for Bryan). Considering she opened the door to a stranger, Me was most gracious. By the time we reached Indiana, we felt like old friends, which thanks to the blog we are. No need for the iPod as backup. There wasn’t a single lull in conversation. We even yelled and waved to Wapakgram when we drove through her town. The side trip to Bob in Spiceland, IN solidified the conviction that the Kinsey adventure was meant to be.
We got to the hotel with time to spare for showering, changing, primping and subterfuge. I’ve never tried to get off the phone with someone as quickly as I did when Bryan called to ensure I was going to pick him up in time. I was afraid he would hear Me come out of shower. Nine possible outfits for Bryan to choose from and no one to advise him. The pink tutu wasn’t mentioned.
When we got to Bryan’s I was so nervous I parked down the wrong block. Me and I had to walk down the street in our dressy clothes, and new shoes while Bryan watched us. I introduced him to Me - and he had no reaction. He said hello, took the food I’d brought for him and walked away. Poor Me was so disappointed. I assured her that he was processing the surprise while he put food away.
Once we got back into the car and headed for Bloomington and the art show, it was as if we’d all known each other forever. Definitely far more than a year of blogging. Bryan mocked my poor car who had driven 600 miles and balked at a few hills en route to Kinsey. Evangeline responded by turning up the radio that blared “Do you believe in magic?” Me and Bryan speculated on who had died in my car and taken possession of her. Much hilarity ensued.
The Kinsey Institute is located on the IU campus.The long walk from the parking garage past the Opera House required me to remove my heels and walk barefoot through the grass while Me, on Bryan’s suggestion, walked backwards down the hill. The squirrels reminded us of Bob while the short Philosopher’s Walk made us all go “Huh?”, and then we were at the front steps to Morrison Hall. I slipped on my shoes and Adult Persona(don’t worry,it didn’t last long)
The first exhibit was a giant lip print with a poem about kisses that taste like warm, buttery waffles. It gave us an erroneous first impression. The rest of the exhibit was more along the lines of the oil painting of the two women sucking on a tentacle of the octopus one of them was wearing.
Bryan’s contribution was by far the classiest entry there. Admittedly I’m biased so I stood in the hallway and listened to other people discuss Amy Leigh. Most of them agreed with Me (and me) . They liked the curve of her torso, the subtle shadows, the highlight of her nipple.
While he was uncomfortable being on the wrong side of the camera, Bryan graciously posed for this picture with him and Amy Leigh.
Me amused the entire gallery with her study of one particular piece of the permanent collection. This was the Kinsey Institute; people’s minds naturally strayed to that kind of thinking. A very nice artist from Minneapolis(I think) attempted to capture Me on film. It truly was one of those “picture paints a thousand words” type situations so I’ll leave it until Bryan gets the email that does the moment justice.
I disappeared for a few minutes to catch a breath of fresh air, and meet Btuda and her DH. Let me just say that the look on Bryan’s face that time was priceless. I think his sister Cathy and I should be commended for keeping a secret for so long. It’s against our Aries natures to keep our mouths shut. We get too excited. Sadly, I was too busy laughing to take a picture then.
Let me just say that Btuda’s DH never batted an eyelash over our silliness all night. While we dissed the phony drag queen, admired footwear and funky hair, Tony took it all in stride. He calmly took the business card offered to him by the bondage artist and tucked into his pocket. Good guy that DH of Btuda’s.
Bryan on the other hand was searching for the exit when the cameras came out to record the artists.
The juror of the show gave a little speech about how exquisite all the entries were(I think she overheard me call Amy Leigh that in a conversation with Me)She gave us a dictionary definition of erotic;something that indicates both anticipation and arousal; then went ahead and gave the award to a piece that by her own interpretation was not erotic. It was a piece that was “neither male nor female, yet both;was everything yet nothing”. I thought it looked like a bunch of roasted pink marshmallows after they’ve been pulled off the stick. We couldn’t wait to get out of the building so that we could admit to each other that none of us understood Art.
Btuda’s DH kindly took a group photo. Bryan offered to do so but we made him pose with us. I’m the bright splash of colour, Me is the tallest and Btuda is edging away from the other three.
The second photo was me,not Me, trying to get artistic and use the stairs to make myself taller.
Check out everyone’s new shoes. Even Bryan was complaining by the end of the night that his feet hurt. I suspect he was mocking us.
We went to Chili’s with Btuda and her DH, raised a toast or three of margaritas and diet cokes to the night’s success. I can’t even remember all the things that made us laugh so hard it threw my neck out. Seriously, I couldn’t turn my head to the left for the rest of the weekend. None of us wanted to part ways at the end of the night. We enjoyed ourselves so much. It was just like being at the Bar and Grill only live.
Bryan’s family embraced Me and I for the rest of the weekend. Cathy took us to a birthday party at her parents where we were fed and amused for hours. Bryan took us to his bar (it seemed the name Brian/Bryan was prerequisite for admittance) where he introduced us to the fine combination of cheesecake and scotch. Then we blew through Columbus on a whirlwind tour of the downtown architecture before sharing frozen custard with Cathy and her family. We admired Patrick’s photography, Katie’s flip book and realized that Bryan’s family is dripping with creativity. Even Cathy’s husband had a certain style and grace when he tied back the sapling. It looked like Tai Chi to me, not Me. She thought I was nuts.
Every night Me and I went to bed laughing. Every night we woke up the same way. And Bryan never took a single photograph. Although, like the true gentleman he is, he did hold my camera. And carry my Pop-Tarts.
As I told the border guard when he commented on how long the distance I traveled, “it was worth it.”
112 comments April 17th, 2007
Okay, we’re over 120 posts, and relief isn’t in sight for another 24 hours, so I’m posting twice, yes twice in one week. (Shocked gasps from different corners of the Bar & Grill.)
Okay, enough with the gasps already.
Frankly today has not been a good day. It’s been a Rotten day in Marysville. So there’s only one thing to do in a situation like this. Yes, it’s time to think about all the things that should make me glad/grateful/cheerful. In other words, this is a raindrops on roses post (and no, BCB, it ain’t copyright infringement).
Among the things I am grateful for (in no particular order): my health. my friends. the fact that I have a job that generates a regular paycheck. the fact that the IRS doesn’t bug me more than once a year. the way the returning blossoms on the trees continue to look like a miracle year after year. the way a child’s smile never grows old. the way my dog never ceases to be delighted when I walk through that door, no matter how rotten the day. the fact that you guys continue to put up with me even when I blog twice in one single week, dang it.
Is there anything that makes you feel grateful?
p.s. Zaza, I’m officially an INFP, FWIW.
36 comments April 16th, 2007
I apologize for putting up this post early, but I must take my computer in on Monday since it’s not healthy and I’m afraid I won’t be able to post and then I’d get a ton of e-mails going “Yo, Jen, it’s your turn” and I wouldn’t get them because I wouldn’t have my computer.
So, lets talk about things that can only happen to me. First, I’m a moron when it comes to the holidays. Most unsentimental person you will ever meet and I’ve managed to botch up yet another “kid” holiday. I forgot the Easter Baskets. In my quest to pack up the car to leave for Georgia last Thursday, I forgot to buy Easter candy for the kids, much less pack the Baskets. And there were no eggs. Thank goodness my mother-in-law knows what a ditz I am and bought some candy. We made bowls for the kids with a bit of grass, but not eggs. No egg hunt and the boys went golfing. It was actually a nice day. So, I guess, in the end, not bad. Saved myself some money and of course there was the year I forgot to boil the eggs. I think I was pregnant with DS(almost 10) and it was also the year I froze the phone thinking it was a chicken, but that is a different story.
DH decides it would be easier for me to go collect children from school while he finish’s packing the car (see below). As I leave he tells me the gas gauge on his car isn’t working, but I should be okay. So, I get in the car and go get two kids. On the way home, about a block away, I run out of gas. Crap. Not that far. I can actually see my street since we are in the neighborhood, so we walk and DH laughs and says, “I told you.” I do not think this is funny and say, “You told me I was good.” He says, “You are good.” and smiles like a big stupid kid. Still don’t think it’s funny.
So, we get in the car and drive two days to Georgia. It wasn’t a bad ride, and the kids were good and the MiniVan drove well. Nothing odd to report until we arrive in Georgia and my husband is unpacking and asks me, “Um, Jen, where is my hanging bag?” I blink and say, “The one that was hanging in the laundry room?” He nods and I say, “I think it’s still hanging in the laundry room.” Husband gets a bit annoyed, but really, it’s not my fault his golf clothes were in there. I didn’t pack it and he got annoyed by the way I was packing the car, so I let him do it, hence, his clothes got left behind.
I won’t mention the thong underwear that got stuck to my middle boys pants when I did laundry. Really, not necessary.
Monday morning we wake at the crack of dawn and drive to Hilton Head SC where we stayed at a beautiful resort. When we got there, the boy ran right off to the golf course and DD15 and I went right for the pool (laptop and all). Well, the laptop must have been telling me that working at the pool isn’t something I should be doing when it made a funny pop sound. Later when I plugged it in, well, I couldn’t plug it in because the doohickey in the back of the computer where the plug for the outlet thing goes, well it’s broke. Thank goodness for back up batteries and I was still able to get some work done, but no blogging for me. That was probably a good thing anyway because we had way too much fun renting boats, going kayaking, going shopping, walking on the beach, and that was just me and DD15. The boys played a lot of golf and then went to some golf tournament thing. I had actually wanted to go to St. Augustine for the week but got out voted (more boys in the house than woment) and I thought it was only for the great golf courses, but I think I might have been mislead as it was to see the golfers. Sigh.
But I want to talk about the kayaking thing because I was really looking forward to this. Our neighbors at our lake house have a kayak and they let me use it all the time. I enjoy it, so I figured this would be fun, but when the guide says to you, right in front of your 15 year old daughter, “So, if you have to picture me in my speedo laying out on the beach, feel free to do so.” You ask, what was my response, “Um, I don’t think so.” Or something like that. I was really disgusted. Maybe most almost 41 year old women would be flattered. Nope, not me. Not the least bit flattered. Later he tried to tell me about a bar I should go to that he worked at. Um, how many times does a woman have to wave her wedding rings under someone’s nose?
But, it was made up for by the very cute young man who said I didn’t look old enough to have a 15 year old daughter. Of course I think he was checking out the daughter, but he seemed nice.
Highlight of the week was renting a boat and seeing the dolphins up close and personal. That made my daughters week. She wasn’t overly thrilled with spending a few days in the car with her brothers and being stuck with boring uncool mom, but this mom turned into the cool mom because when we went shopping, well, I let her dress me. OMG! I now own a pair of crocks, the most ugliest shoes on the planet. I also own about three new really short shorts, a pair of very low rise jeans and some very long shirts that have the kind of straps that will get me kicked out of the middle school. Oh, this is going to be fun.
Also, a funny thing happened to me. I think I must have forgotten to eat because on this vacation I lost close to 10 pounds!!!! I’m so excited. I need to rid myself of 10 more and I will be back to the size I was one year ago. Wouldn’t that be grand.
But this post is taking on a life of it’s own because I meant to post about what happened on the ride home. We decided to drive it all in one day. We left SC at about 2:30 and after I had a two hour nap in the car and it was close to midnight DH asked, “can you drive, or do you want to stop?” I said, “I’ve got two hours in me.” He said, “Then lets got home. I’ll sleep until you can’t drive anymore and then I’ll take us the rest of the way.” I said, “Okay.” And so I drove for the next four hours thinking, shit, it’s cold now. About 45 degrees and I heard it’s going to snow back home. Actually, my friend said it was only 35 and it was going to get even colder by the time we get home. Did I really turn off the heat, or did I just turn it down? Crap. I turned it off. But I didn’t say anything until DH pulls into the garage and says to the kids, “It’s going to be a bit chilly in there because I turned the heat down to 60, but it shouldn’t take too long to warm up. Just take your sleeping bags.” I say, “Um, honey, I actually turned off the heat.”
DH said, “You did what?!”
Jen, “You heard me.” I hang my head in shame
DH, “The pipes could have frozen. Do you know what happens to frozen pipes?”
Middle child, “They go pop!”
DD, “Classic mom. So, how cold is it anyway?”
DH, “About the same temp outside, flipping freezing thanks to mom.”
I’m now barefoot running across a very hard, cold, tile floor and the tempurature gage is below fifty, but I think it’s actually colder than that, but the gage doesn’t go any lower.
Jen, “There is always body heat?”
Husband, “Stay away from me,” he said behind gritted teeth as he searched the house for water leaks.
I’m happy to annouce, no leaks. The house is now warm and DH is at the Sabres game.
All is good.
127 comments April 14th, 2007
CBers have asked me if I had meant to run away and abandon the Bar & Grill. Not at all! I didn’t abandon you, honest. I was the quiet one in the back. (Yes, that was a challenge. No wonder you didn’t recognize me.)
Why did I do this? you ask. Because I read a book, and it made me think.
Diane Ackerman wrote a book, A Slender Thread about her experiences volunteering for a year on a suicide/crisis prevention hotline. She handled some amazingly scary and occasionally depressing calls, but a lot of the calls that came through were people who just wanted to talk. And one thing she learned was that it was her job to listen. Not to speak up herself, even when she really wanted to agree. She wanted to chime in, to say “Yes! I’ve been there! I can relate to you!” and she couldn’t. That wasn’t the job she had to do. Even speaking up to commiserate was putting yourself into the picture. This call was about the person on the other end. Sometimes what people need most is simply to have someone else listen.
This stayed with me even after the rest of the book has faded from my memory. And since it was Lent, which is generally a time of year when I try to adopt some good habit, I thought I should practice listening to all of you. So that’s what I did. I read the blogs and the comments, but I didn’t chime in. And that was tough sometimes. I wanted to raise my hand and say “ooh, ooh, I’ve been there” when Me talked about working as an editor trying to enlighten marketing peoples. When Cary blogged about grammar issues, I yearned to point out the existence of the Apostrophe Protection Society. (http://www.apostrophe.fsnet.co.uk/) I gnashed my teeth when CMS bemoaned that no one sent her emails. (Ahem? Enable an email address listed on your blog? Just a thought.)
If there was a crisis, e.g. you needed help getting rid of a body, then I’d blog. Had to. Otherwise, I listened. It’s not something that would work all the time; the bar and grill would turn into a Quaker meeting. But just then, I needed to listen. To you. Every single one of you. And that includes you over in the corner there. Yes, I saw you over there. Heard you, too.
I did keep busy.
Took that Myers-Briggs test again. Got the same answer. This time I researched the personality type. Oi. Apparently my type is the rarest of all personality types; only 1% of the population falls into this category. Fine by me, but these websites all went on to say the same things:
- this type tends not to find a mate because our standards are too high.
- the other 99% of the world doesn’t understand my type and thinks we’re all loonies.
- oh yeah, and we have a hard time listening to criticism. (Gee, with criticism like that?)
I also read a book on how to clean house, and you would not believe the things this woman claims you should do every week. Okay, maybe I should get down on my hands and knees to scrub the kitchen floor each week. (”The only way to get it clean,” this woman proclaims.) But do you all vacuum behind the couch and underneath the refrigerator and also iron all your sheets?
(Really? You do? Oh come now. Really?)
Anyone else have any similar claims to make? I’m listening.
81 comments April 12th, 2007
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