To squeeze, or not to squeeze, that is the question

There’s this ongoing and maybe not-so-silent argument happening at my house. 

Bottles.  I’m talking 2 liter soda bottles here folks, and the age old argument of whether squeezing a soda bottle (or not) makes the soda stay fizzy longer.  Hubby’s a squeezer and I’m most definitely not.  In fact, the actual squeezing of the soda bottle ticks me right off.  (I get mad about stupid things.  Yes, I know this.  Don’t judge.)  Aside from the fact that it’s just not aesthetically pleasing, which offends my delicate sensibilities, it makes the bottles unwieldy.  And on top of that, I just think he’s wrong.  He claims that squeezing will help keep the soda fizzy longer and I think that by squeezing the bottle you’re allowing for the gasses to escape the liquid soda and are giving them more room, thus re-expanding the crushed bottle. So, a question arose in my brain: Who is right?

The last thing I can claim is to be too knowledgeable about Science.  I proved just last night that I know basic Science stuff by passing an 8^th grade Science Test on Facebook.  I got 14 of the 15 questions right!  Go me!  But that’s not what I came here to talk about.  I have friends that are far more knowledgeable about this stuff than I am.  However, I can research.  I did research.  And you know what I found?  More confusion.  Lots of talk about CO2 and expansion rates and partial pressure and ideal gasses.  Yikes! 

But as I read through some of the discussion board threads, it seems like folks are adamant about their answer. Some swear up and down that squeezing works and other’s claim that’s just stupid – like me.  Except with science-y stuff to back up their claims.  And I’m not smart enough to understand it or know who is right.  Let me present a less science-y example that I came across: 

My wife does this, and I cannot understand how it would be beneficial.  How might this keep the gasses from escaping?  She says it’s about having less air inside the bottle.  Please explain to me how this could be.  [posted by dammitjim to Home & Garden]

Here are a couple of the immediate responses to this question: 

Squeezing the bottle accomplishes exactly the opposite of what your wife wants to accomplish.   Squeezing the bottle creates negative pressure inside the bottle because of the plastic’s elasticity that will hasten the extraction of the carbon dioxide from the soda.

That is why the caps that claim to save carbonation increase air pressure instead, although they do not work as advertised because pumping air into the bottle does not force carbon dioxide back into the soda.  You would need to pump carbon dioxide into the bottle instead.  The bottles are pressurized with carbon dioxide when bottled, so once you open the cap for the first time, it’s a losing battle.  The best thing to do is keep the bottle in the fridge.  A colder soda will release less CO2.  [posted by Tanizaki]

And…

I don’t think this actually works.  I’ve heard of people doing it before so I tried it for a while, but it seemed to have no effect whatsoever on how quickly the soda went flat.  The CO2 just doesn’t want to be in solution once it has all that lovely air to mix with.  I noticed the few times I did this that after a few hours, the bottle had expanded back to its original shape.  Obviously this could not happen if the CO2 was staying in the solution.  There’s just not enough pressure in the bottle to keep the CO2 in place once the seal is broken, no matter how much you squeeze the bottle.  [posted by katyggls]

Maybe I’m partial to these responses because they seem to be in line with my exact thoughts.  Admittedly, I haven’t gone to the end of the Internet and back seeking enlightenment on this subject, but I still think I’m right and I think hubby (love him though I do) is still...um...wrong. 

Does anyone want to weigh in on the subject?  I’m open to scientific responses presented in a non-confusing way.  Remember, I’m a person of somewhat average intelligence and if you get all science-y on me my ADD will rear it's ugly head and I’ll tune out and simply continue to think that I am right when, in all probability, I am wrong.

TTFN

JMS

Home Physics Filter: Does squeezing the bottle of a carbonated beverage help keep it from going flat?  http://ask.metafilter.com/228098/Home-Physics-Filter-Does-squeezing-the-bottle-of-a-carbonated-beverage-help-keep-it-from-going-flat

The Straight Dope: Fighting Ignorance Since 1973 (It’s taking longer than we thought): Does Squeezing (and sealing) a soda/soft drink bottle keep it carbonated for longer? http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showthread.php?t=479007

Words of Wisdom

Someone posted this to Facebook yesterday.  I saw it and thought I would share it with  you.  I would like to claim that this wisdom is mine, and though it is oddly similar to thoughts I've had and statements I've made, it is not mine.  I don't know where it originally came from, and I don't know who "Zag" is, but I like it.  I like it very much.

TTFN
JMS

Tananda Dot Com - Find Your Zen: Nervousness vs. The Interview (Cross Posted)

Check out my latest article on Tananda Dot Com! 

http://tananda.com/2014/05/find-your-zen-nervousness-vs-the-interview/

Keep Calm and Read On!

TTFN
JMS

Letting it Go: A thoughtful commentary on one person's experience with grief and loss

Oh, my.  By now, I’m sure you have heard the song Let it Go from Disney’s movie Frozen. Right?  What?  You haven’t?  Well, I’m sure a quick YouTube search will enlighten you.  I honestly don’t have time to type out (or even copy and paste) the entire song’s lyrics here.  Suffice it to say it is (in this person’s opinion) a song about giving up and just doing whatever you want, regardless of the consequences.

And kids (including my dear daughter) are singing it all over the world.

Now, don’t misunderstand me.  I’m not criticizing.  I actually like the song.  It’s…catchy.  It’s an ear worm that you wish, after three solid days of singing it to yourself, that someone could surgically remove it from your brain. (I think I’ve even seen a comic panel about this very thing; surgically removing a song stuck in one’s head.)  I suppose most kids don’t really understand what the song is about, and that’s probably a good thing.  But what about those kids who do figure it out?  Will there be behavioral consequences for parents to deal with?

Yeah – really not going there.  And, as much as I like the song, I also don’t like it.  Ugh.  That’s totally convoluted.

But what about that phrase let it go?  And I don’t mean within the borders of a Disney movie.  I mean out there.  In the real world.  What does it mean to let something go?

I tend to be a Let me give you my two cents worth kind of person and I hope that you’ll bear with me.  I somehow have equated this whole let it go fad to my own personal grief and long-standing sadness, so this is a difficult post for me.  It will be difficult, I think, for others in my small but adored circle of friends and family, too, but I cannot apologize.  This has been a long time coming.  I have a story to tell.

***

I’m coming up on the 25^th anniversary of the death of my mother.  She died, after a long, 7+ year battle with cancer, on June 15, 1989.  I was fifteen when she left this world.  I remember that day as if it happened yesterday and yet, I also have blocked it out and after 25 years I think the memory is a little fuzzier.  I haven’t decided if that’s a good thing.

All I can say is it happened on the last day of my Freshman year in high school and I went to school that morning knowing (like some people just know it’s going to rain or how others know when someone is lying to them; instinctively) that I would never see my mother alive again.  I remember feeling wooden, robotic, going through the motions of a fifteen year old girl on her last day of school.  Sitting in homeroom, I knew when Mr. Lagasse’s classroom phone rang, that I was the one the call was about. Sure enough, he turned around and caught my eye.  I started gathering my things.

Molly said, “What’s up?”

I said, “I’m pretty sure that my mom died.”

Who can really respond to that?  She knew darn well I was not joking in any way.  She was my best friend.  She remained silent.

A school resource officer came to meet me at the classroom and I remember being asked to clean out my locker but I don’t remember actually doing it.  Then somehow I was at home and there were people everywhere and someone asked me if I wanted to see her before the coroner came to get her body.

Ok.  I’m done.  I can’t go into that day any more deeply.  I’m struggling hard to maintain a modicum of composure right now.  So let’s move on, shall we?

***

What is grief?  Going to my source for all knowledge, the great and powerful Wikipedia, Grief is a multifaceted response to loss, particularly the loss of someone or something to which a bond was formed…a natural response to loss. It is the emotional suffering one feels when something or someone [an] individual loves is taken away. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grief)

I feel like, while on one level that definition is accurate, it can in no way accurately describe how grief feels.  And grief feels different for each person.  Some people can let it go and move on with their lives, and others, like myself, do a good job of faking it but cannot let it go.  It is with me. Every. Single. Day. Of. My. Life.  Period. 

Even now, 25 years later, and after a whole lot of growing up, I still think of something I want to tell her and have been known, on a rare occasion, to pick up my phone to try to call her…only to realize that she isn’t there anymore.

I think the loss never leaves. That the hole it creates is always there, but we learn to fill that hole with other things so the loss (whatever it may be) seems less and less over time.  But sometimes, when we think about it directly, the hole magically empties of all other things and becomes that great loss all over again.  A giant, gaping  hole in yourself that you now need to work to fill again, with other, ordinary, everyday things.

So when I say, “I understand,” when talking with another person about their loss or grief, I truly do understand.  Again, every person’s experience with grief and loss is different.  But very few people have lived the very definition of the word.  I think I can honestly and accurately say I am one of those people.

I had a conversation with a good friend about this very thing the other day.  She is dealing with her own gaping hole of loss, having just lived through another anniversary of the death of her beloved father.  I said some of these same words to her and she encouraged me to write them down – to share them with others.  And I hope, in some way, they can help.  I’m not sure who they’ll help, or how, but maybe they will.

TTFN
JMS

Passive Aggressiveness

It’s been a few days since my last post. I’m getting over an “I totally suck” mental-state, so bear with me. I’m still fragile.

***

I received the following note on my desk this morning:

"Dear Infidel,

You allowed someone to sit at my desk.

They stole my staple remover.

In order to bring balance back to the Universe, I was forced to take yours."

[clip art of staple remover]

[clip art of Buddha]

Seriously?

On the one hand, I can understand that the writer’s intent was probably to be amusing. I get that. I truly do. And I am inclined to find it amusing. I must find it amusing or it will make me mad. That being said let me explain to you, my dear reader, why I’m also inclined to be ticked off. I shall break it down for you:

Dear Infidel. Do I need to point out that I am not, in fact, an infidel? Wikipedia says that the word “infidel” (literally “one without faith”) is a term used in religions…for one who has no religious beliefs…"  You can look that up. And anyone who knows me knows how far that term is from the truth. It is insulting, even if it is, I hope, meant to be amusing.

You allowed someone to sit at my desk. Well, no, actually I didn’t. It is against company policy. I don’t have a copy of said policy in my hand, but I'm sure it exists. Not only that, but in so far as I am a rule-follower, I would never allow someone to sit at someone else’s desk.  Ever.  Period.

They stole my staple remover. And a staple remover is so very difficult to replace? Or, taken another way, there is an entire cabinet of office supplies just around the corner from wherever it is you sit…did you not think to look there? And if your precious staple remover was red, have you been relegated to the basement and are you possibly expecting a paycheck? (Some of you will get that, and others won’t. Stapler vs. Staple Remover – I think I can abuse the parallel.)

In order to bring balance back to the Universe, I was forced to take yours. You are very welcome and I hope it brings you many years of happiness and usefulness. My reaction to finding my staple remover missing would have been to sigh (the level of said sigh based exclusively upon my immediate need for said staple remover), get my butt up, walk to the supply cabinet, and grab another one. We’ve got, like, twenty of them. They cost about $0.25 to replace. If your Universe has now balanced itself, all should be right with your world, and therefore all is right with mine. I am happy to share.

But here's the rest of the story.  I leave the office at 4PM.  This was as true last Friday as it was any other day of the week unless alternate arrangements have been discussed with and approved by my boss.  The note was not there Friday afternoon when I left, and there were very few people in the office, most having already gone home for the long weekend or taken the day off.  Then we had Saturday and Sunday.  Weekend days.  Probably no one decided to come to the office on those days.  Then Monday was a Holiday.  The office was closed.  Who, in their right mind, would come to the office on a day they didn't have to?  Beyond me.  So that leaves Friday afternoon after I left the office.  Which means, that the writer of this note waited until I left that evening to place the note on my desk.  Passive aggressive much?

Now that I have said my piece, I will share with you my passive aggressive response:

I think I am amusing. Now, please tell me, who is inclined to be ticked off?

TTFN
JMS

The customer is always right…right?

After the culmination of a less-than-pleasing experience while trying to order catered food to be delivered for a business meeting, I feel the need to expound the virtues of customer service, and set some things, as I see them, straight.

(Wow – that was quite a sentence.)

Having paid my dues in both retail sales and hash-slinging (read waiting tables), and now as an administrative assistant, I consider myself to be a decent judge of character and also will gladly lay claim to an pretty good ability to communicate effectively with my peers. To quote Lena, a bar waitress from Thelma and Louise: “If [waiting tables] don’t make you an expert on human nature, nothin’ will.” Or something like that.

When I called a certain sandwich shop earlier in the day, I was as I always am on the phone: clear, concise, and charming. (Don’t laugh. You’d be amazed how far a certain level of charm will get you in my line of work. I can’t make miracles happen, though some folks might kindly say otherwise.) I explained to the gentleman on the other end of the phone that I needed to order an assorted sandwich tray to feed 15-20 people and, along with a salad, chips and some tea, I had a budget of about $120. He agreed he thought that could probably be done, and proceed to listen carefully to what I needed.

Yep – he did a great job. His name was Bo and, though I won’t specifically name the sandwich shop, I will say yes, that is his real name and further say his customer service manner was top notch.

So where’s the problem?

The problem is that when we came to the point of Bo telling me the total, it was about $30 more than we’d budgeted for. Having been told originally that the previous orders for this same meeting, from this same sandwich shop, to be delivered to the same place, and paid for by the same person have, historically, been $120, you therefore can understand why I hesitated. I explained that I wanted to reach out to the person bankrolling the mission to verify that the $150+ cost of this meal would be sanctioned. I explained further that, since it was not my money I needed to make sure I had permission to spend the extra amount.

Silence on the other end of the phone. Then, “Um…hang on.”

Um…okay.

Thirty seconds later, I get a very brisk, “Ma’am how can I help you?”

(sigh)

Starting over, I explain that Bo had taken my order quite professionally and that I was simply taking a moment to reach out to my person to find out if it was okay for me to spend $150 instead of the expected approximate amount of $120. This was not a rocket scientist moment, I know. But apparently it took a rocket scientist to figure out what I was saying.

Meanwhile, said person I was trying to reach out to had stepped away from the computer and was unavailable for consultation. So I asked if I could call them back to verify the order and to let them know the amount was OK.

At this point, Mr. Brisk Voice decided to lay into me. “Ma’am, I can’t give you a discount. We don’t work like that. See, we have set prices in the computer and when we put something in it tells us how much it’s going to be. I’m in the process of firing one of my managers and the reason you probably paid less last time is ‘cause he screwed up. I’m not givin’ any discounts. This guy really screwed me over. If you wanna call back that’s fine, but no discounts.”  I’m paraphrasing. It was much more lengthy and rude. I am being kind. I am trying to be the bigger person.

OK Mr. BV, lemme tell you something.

First: I was not asking for a discount. Not in any capacity. I was simply trying to make sure I had permission to spend money that was not mine. Period.

Second: though it is unfortunate that you had a manager that did not do his job to your exacting specifications, that problem does not automatically become mine, so please don't make it my problem.

Third: If you were my child, and you talked to me like that, you would have a serious problem.

Fourth: If I had had any other option of a place to order food to be catered to this event, I would take it. At this point, you have effectively lost me not only as a corporate customer, but as a personal customer as well. I think I might write to your General Manager. Oh wait! You ARE the General Manager. My bad!

But…the customer is always right? Right?

In any service position (and just taking me as an example and calling upon the sales, table-waiting, administrative skills I possess) it is your job to serve, with a certain level of kindness, and, regardless of how belligerent your customer may get, it is never okay to put up with verbal abuse. Talking down an irate customer takes a certain level of skill and some people (most people, actually) simply lack that skill. It does not mean they have bad customer service skills, however. It simply means that there is probably someone more qualified to quench the customer’s fire, whatever that fire may be. By the same token, if you are able to talk down an irate customer, more power to you. I refer back to my charm statement of yore.

It’s a liberating feeling to give the customer what he wants, but I suggest here and now that if you are bashed, bullied, lambasted, screamed at, or otherwise pushed into doing so, that it not be done. If your manager, or anyone in a higher position of authority, wants to do so, fine. More power to them. But I personally wouldn’t compromise on that one folks. Just walk away. Fisticuffs and bloodshed are not necessary.

From a service perspective, I have always, I repeat always, tried to give the customer what they want to the absolute best of my ability. In sales, my customer was anyone I was trying to sell something to. While waiting tables, my customers were the folks waiting on their food. In my current administrative world, my customers are the managers and co-workers that I support. And even to a certain extent, in my personal world, my customers are my husband and my children.

Period.

But even in my personal world, if you bully me…forget it.

Even though in this case I was the customer and he was the service provider, I'm pretty sure these arguments will stand.

TTFN
JMS

One Mother's Opinion of Mother's Day

Mother’s Day. It’s a day created to celebrate mothers everywhere. A day for Hallmark cards and candy and flowers and taking mom out to lunch (or dinner). Giving her handmade creations from school, sticky with paste or glue, covered in stickers or glitter or macaroni. With sentiment written in a child’s hand and from a child’s heart. Doting on her, and maybe even waiting on her hand and foot. Giving her that perfect something she’s been wanting…

Or is it?

Well, yeah – cards are nice. Lunch is good, too; every momma needs to be fed, right? Flowers are pretty, but they don’t last. Candy is good, but it makes us fat. (OK, it makes me fat.) Presents are thoughtful, but really – who can afford these prices?

I, however, am a particular fan of the Gummy Lump. If you’ve read Robert Fulghum’s All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, then you know what I mean. For those who don’t, I’m talking about the things your child creates and gives you. The glue-sticky things I described above. Those things that give you a gummy lump in your throat. Mr. Fulghum explains it much better:

Once it was a shoebox, decorated and given to me by the oldest child. Then it became a repository of other relics of childhood given to me by the younger children. The shoebox became my treasure chest in time. Its components are standard: Three colors of construction paper – pink and red and white – faded now, aluminum foil, orange tissue paper, several paper doilies, three kinds of macaroni, gumdrops, jelly beans, some little white hearts (the kind that taste like Tums) with words on them, and the whole thing held together with a whole lot of white library paste, which also tastes like Tums.

He goes on to say how the whole thing has gone “kind of moldy where the jelly beans and gumdrops have run together.” He says it is still “sticky in places” and that most of it is now “more beige than red and white.” But more importantly, it contains all the written love from his children for Valentine’s Day and, I would guess other holidays as well.

I think this meshes nicely with what I am trying to say. Yes, I admit it. I think it would be awesome to have an inexpensive tablet of some kind (or a smart phone) so I can check email, peruse Facebook, keep my appointments on some kind of cool calendar feature that will ping loudly with reminders, play a mindless game here and there, keep track of my contacts and be generally “hooked in” to modern technology. I think it would be bliss to receive a spa package, massage, mani-pedi, facial – whatever! I am, after all, a girl last I checked. (These things would be made all the cooler if they were spontaneous and not attached to any particular “holiday” or “Hallmark Holiday” though.)

But even better than any of that? My hubby telling me he loves me at any time, and for no particular reason. My kiddos writing me little notes that they leave on my bedside. I love you mom! You’re the best! I’ve found notes and pictures under my pillow. I’ve found notes in my purse. I’ve got a collection of beautiful pictures and drawings (and yes, they are beautiful because my children made them) in boxes to save for posterity and sentiment.

So when this Mother’s Day passed, and my hubby apologized for not getting me anything, I meant it when I said it did not matter. My son made me a card. My daughter hugged me as hard as she possibly could (which is pretty hard, actually – ouch) and told me she loved me. My family took me out to lunch. And then we all went to the local fishing hole where they (and a friend) fished for a couple hours and I sat back in a chair and read a book in the midst of all of the beauty around me.

I call that an amazing Mother’s Day.

Just my humble opinion – but those things are gifts.

TTFN
JMS

Robert Fulghum Official Website: http://www.robertfulghum.com/

Zombie Apocalypse

Nope. Not that kind of zombie apocalypse. The kind where the groaning, grunting, wordless, stumbling, shuffling, practically blind bi-peds are moving, as a group, arms extended, hands desperately gripping small, porcelain vessels, toward the black, hot, life-affirming, caffeinated goodness that is the first cup of coffee.

It's not just me, right?

You've seen 'em, too?

TTFN
JMS

PS: In case anyone was wondering, my son calls this my Life Juice.  Pretty cool, huh?

The Ten Percent

I was listening to the radio as I usually do on my early-morning commute to the office, and they were talking about the local elections that were held just the day before.  I don't have the exact numbers, but they were saying how of the 270,000 registered voters in the county, only ten percent showed up to vote.  That means that ninety percent stayed at home, or wherever, that day.

The host was all fired up about this.  His thoughts were that if you are going to complain about what you don't like with regard to local government, then you have no argument if you don't vote. For what it's worth, I agree with him.

You cannot say you want something, push for it, fight about it, complain about it, argue about it - whatever - and then do nothing to make a change.  Voting is one thing you can do to make change and folks, I'm very sorry, but if you don't vote, you have no right to complain.

Just my two cents.

(Stepping carefully down from my soap box.)

TTFN
JMS

Kids are a different species

Kids are a different species from adults, did you know that?  Just when you think you've got them figured out, one of them says something that makes you wonder if they really are, in fact, smarter than you are.  Or if they are in touch with some cosmic force or other that gives them the answers to the meaning of life before they've really lived that life.

In a conversation with a friend yesterday she was explaining how she had asked her five year old grandson the difference between a chicken and a turkey.  She said, "He thought about it for a while...was really giving it some serious consideration...and then said, 'Nuggets!'"

Which is equally as funny as it is insightful, I think.

The other day, at my own humble abode, my dear daughter was spending her "screen time" on the computer playing a PBS Kids game: Sid the Science Kid.  Somehow it's a learning game (hey, it's on PBS, right?) but the sound effects were making me crazy.  I did that thing where you think, "Good Grief!  How can you listen to that over and over again?" and then realize you have just said it out loud, not to yourself. 

She responds, "But I can!  I have different ears than you!"

I laughed right out loud.  I posted the funny to Facebook to share the funny with others.  But as I sat there being amused at the things kids say, I wondered: What are they tapped into that we adults are not?

I say it's Innocence.

I think kids say the stuff they say because they're innocent of the "greater understanding" of life.  And that's a good thing.  They're bent on growing up and learning new things or idolizing their older siblings or friends, desperately wanting to do what they do.  And we as parents sometimes, admittedly, wish they were older so they could do xyz-thing for themselves because it's hard to be on all the time.  But really, that thing that every older parent says to younger parents, "Enjoy them now, while they're young.  They grow up so quickly," is totally true.

I have strong feelings about exposing kids (and I can only speak for myself here) to things that are beyond their ability to comprehend mentally or emotionally.  Movies and TV, video games - they all pale in comparison to that great invention called Outdoors.  Books are harder.  My kiddos absorb books by osmosis, it seems.  It is very hard to keep them in books that are appropriate for their age levels because both of their reading levels are so high.  (Yes, I know I am very blessed.)  But still, we're careful about what they read, too.

This is why we have "Screen Time" at our house.  This is why we tell them to go get a book.  Why we kick them outside and say, "Go play!"  Because this innocent fun is just that...innocent. 

They're kids.  They don't need to worry about all the stuff the adults worry about (though in my case my son tends to pick up on all that stuff anyway and then spouts it off to me at a later date and probably inappropriate time) because they're kids.  They need to worry about homework, and school and that's about it. 

Just my two cents worth.

And that innocent brilliance they spout every now and again?  Remember that, too.  It could be good fodder for blackmail when they get older! ;)

TTFN
JMS

Weekend Snapshot

At Ijams Nature Center!

(I am the one behind the camera.)

We had so much fun!

TTFN

JMS

Tananda Dot Com - Savvy Job Hunting: Tricks of the Trade (Cross Posted)

Check out my latest article on Tananda Dot Com!

http://tananda.com/2014/05/savvy-job-hunting-tricks-of-the-trade/

Happy Job Hunting!  May the Force be with you.  (Sorry, that just came out!)

TTFN
JMS

Pitch Perfect: A Movie Review

In the age of (mostly) modern technology, we have the ability to purchase an electronic copy of a movie and watch it (oh my goodness!) on our very own little shiny devices of destraction - whatever that device may be.  Ages ago, I purchased an electronic copy of the movie Pitch Perfect and it, along with some other favs, will be watched again and again.

I watched it...again...last night.

Here's why I like it.

First of all, it's funny.  Like laugh right out loud funny.  Okay yeah, there's definitely an element of gross in the form of two separate instances of projectile vomiting (though not in a Linda Blair kind of way), and some sexual allusions and innuendos - so it's definitely not safe for children or, probably, even most teenagers (if you want my humble opinion).  It should be watched with an element of caution if you have either of those types of 2-legged creatures around.  (Don't look all confused, you know I'm talking about the children and teenagers.)

Second, it's original.  I like that it's not (to my knowledge) a remake of anything.  The plot is totally predictable (my opinion, feel free to make it yours) but it does not matter where the movie ends, it's how the movie gets to the end!  The story is fun.  The characters are ridiculous but lovable for the most part; there are a couple of them I'd like to punt into next week. And their relationships with one another are relatable.  (Wow - that's a lot for a comedy.)

Third, it's got singing.  Singing always sucks me in.  And not just singing, but A cappella singing!  (I'm totally a fan of The Sing Off, though I tend to miss it because of the whole being busy all the time thing.)  How much talent does a person or a group need to have to sing with zero musical accompaniment?  TONS!  And it's awesome!  Gives me goosebumps every time.

And finally, you know how I can tell when a movie is good?  When I realize that I've been smiling like the Cheshire Cat for the last five minutes and don't remember what made me smile to begin with!

So, now that I'm finished with my first impromptu movie review, I suggest you run yourself right over to the nearest video store (or amazon instant video - take your pick) and get a copy of Pitch Perfect.  Even my dear hubby (a real guys guy) said, "It was better than I thought it would be,"  which, for him, is high praise.

TTFN
JMS

File under: "Really? Just...Really?"

The article that sparked this blog post

Spain: Children 'must do housework' under draft law

Spanish children may soon be required to help out with housework, under a draft law that has been approved by parliment.

The measure, which would be part of a wider child protection law, says that children under the age of 18 have an obligation to participate in all areas of family life.  That includes "co-responsibility in caring for the home and performing household tasks regardless of age and gender", the ABC newspaper says.  The rules come under a section of the law called "the rights and duties of children".

Along with doing chores, children would also have to be respectful to their parents and teachers, and have a positive attitude towards learning.  But the bill doesn't say anything about penalties for children who refuse to go along, the Local website reports.  Other elements of the bill would see the establishment of a list of people who are banned from working with children, and it would become a crime for people who work with children to fail to report possible abuses against them.

Married Spanish men can also face legal sanctions for refusing to do housework - an update in 2005 to the marriage contract used for the country's civil ceremonies added a clause requiring men to share in household duties, and care for the children of elderly relatives.

Link to article: http://www.bbc.com/news/blogs-news-from-elsewhere-27187982

I'm going to wait here, so you can have a few seconds to recover from the shock, amazement, confusion, or mirth (take your pick).

(Hums Jeopardy theme...)

Better now?  Good.  Let's discuss this. 

First, I think it's an excellent idea to make your children help you around the house.  Provided you don't think of them as personal slave labor, it's all good.  I believe that teaching children to help with household chores builds character (yes, I am turning into an adult even as I type) and allows a child grow into themselves; into a responsible grown-up.  (I believe that cleaning one's room is vital to success - but that's a whole other issue.)

I think, too, that parents should require their children to be respectful to everyone.  Period.  End of sentence.  Respect requires work, by parents and by other adults that have role-model-type relationships to the children.  To show respect is to teach respect.  So if you, the adult, are disrespectful, so will be the child.

I do not think, however, that there needs to be a law to make this happen.  I believe it's going to backfire pretty quickly if they pass it and they'll have to just go back to the drawing board.  Government (in whatever form) should not parent your child; YOU should.

Secondly, I think that anyone, regardless of whatever laws there may be, who does not report possible or suspected abuse to a child should be punished, too.  You may not be the abuser, but if you even suspect abuse it is your responsibility as an adult and as a human being to report it.  Again, PERIOD.  End of sentence.

Thirdly, and admittedly, I like the idea of establishing a list of people who are banned from working with children.  They, meaning these lists, should be prevalant (to quote Mirriam-Webster: generally or widely accepted, practiced or favored: widespread) and accessible to anyone.  But, though we have sex offender registry and websites that can help the average Joe or Jane find out if a sex offender lives in their area, does that automatically guarantee full compliance?  Or new offenders?  Nope. 

Then there's this other thing - that, to me, seems almost unrelated - of this 2005 update to the marriage contract...requiring men to share in household duties and the care of children and elderly relatives.  Ok, seriously, stop laughing.  (Wait, I have to stop laughing, too.)  They had to make a law or whatever to get men to assist in household duties?  Is there any documentation?  Are there numbers that can support the success of said law?  Yeah - don't bog yourself down in the details here, I realize that nowhere did it say this was a "law" and that it's simply written into the marriage contract but did they really think it was going to help?

I have so very many things I would like to say on the subject of men vs. household chores but I think, in the interest of maintaining my reputation as a clean and (for the most part) family-friendly blogger, I ought to keep my yap shut.  You can draw your own conclusions.  However, feel free to comment to your heart's content - we may be able to open a broader discussion here.

TTFN
JMS

Sometimes, it's hard being a working mommy

I didn't get to see my kiddos yesterday, and it was really un-fun.  (Don't roll your eyes at me.  I like that word.  It fits.)  Not seeing my kiddos hurts my heart.  Aside from the fact that I'm typically at the office about 6:45 am every day and leave the house before my babies get up, I also had two back-to-back meetings at the church last night and therefore went directly to the church after work.

The meetings were good, productive ones - but I didn't get to see my kiddos.  They were, both of them, sound asleep by the time I got home.  (I guess Thor's party kept them awake the night before, too, so the Sleep Monster took over earlier than usual last night.)  I checked on them, fussed over covers and blankies and stuffed animals, kissed their sweet faces and went to bed.

TTFN
JMS

Thor's party in the sky kept me awake all night (but I didn't call the cops)

Last night, we had major storm warnings and watches all over this area.  Normally I don't worry too much about storms.  They don't scare me.  In fact, I kind of like them.  (Except those thunder BOOMS that wake you out of a dead sleep as if Thor had smashed the house with Mjölnir.)  But, I am going to admit, here and now, that I let the warnings get to me. 

I couldn't settle.  I tried reading (which is a nightly routine that helps me fall asleep, just as hubby's is to find an old black & white documentary) but that didn't work; I couldn't concentrate on what I was reading and kept being interrupted by the lightning and thunder.  (I'm telling you, Thor was in a tizzy about something last night.)  I got up to get something to drink (grapefruit juice and ginger ale, yum), I stood looking out the kitchen window for a while and watched the activity in the sky, I checked on the kids multiple times, I gathered stuff for the utility room just in case we had to take shelter, I found a pitiful candle and a lighter, I found a flashlight...

I finally crawled back into bed (it's now about 1AM and waaay past my bedtime) and turned on the radio to the talk station I like, knowing they'd have emergency weather-related break-ins to regular programming, and I lay there and listened.  I listened to the sounds of the guys on the radio, if not really what they were talking about (it was just noise) but what I really listening for is the emergency broadcast system beeps - we all know what they sound like.  And all the ones I heard had the storms just to the south of us.  So all the storm activity I was seeing and hearing was, apparently, pitiful when compared to what the counties to the south of mine were seeing. 

I don't know, exactly, what time I drifted off, but it was probably close to 2:30 am.  Needless to say, I am tired today.  I know that there are going to be a lot of other really tired people around today, too, so I need to be sensitive to that and not selfishly hanging on to my own exhaustion.  There will be no time to nap, though.  I have a 4:30 pm meeting at the church tonight, and another one at 6:00 pm; I'll be there until 7:30 or 8:00 tonight.  And then, as if that's not enough, we're expected to get another round of heavy storms tonight; so more not sleeping.

TTFN
JMS

Weekend Snapshot

Direct sun snapshot

I like it. Thought I'd share it so you could like it (or not), too.

TTFN

JMS

PS: Yes, I did take this my very own self.

It's a good kind of tired

Spent the entire weekend visiting with amazing friends. It was very hard to leave. And wishing that they'd pack themselves up and move back to where they started (meaning back to around the corner from us) is silly. There were lots of tears from the kiddos as we drove away; missing their friends.

We'll have to do it again...soon.

TTFN
JMS

Tananda Dot Com - Salary & Skilz (Cross Posted)

Check out the latest Tangent article on Tananda Dot Com. http://tananda.com/2014/04/salary-skilz/

Or, if you'd rather read all the other posts: http://tananda.com/

Happy Reading! Hope you learn something you didn't know before, or simply enjoy the content.

TTFN
JMS

Blinded by the light...

It's getting brighter and brighter outside in the early mornings when I'm driving to work. I like the daylight, very much. However, while I am sitting at my desk - at a certain point in the morning - the sun comes indirectly through the windows and shines directly in my eyes. For about 10 minutes, it's blinding.

You're probably asking, "What am I looking at here?" Well, there are three large, glass windows. The closest one is the hardest to see, but if you look to the left of the center of the picture you see two dark, vertical lines. That is where two large panes of glass meet and they are the closest to me. A little further back, and to the right side of the picture, you can see the reflection of the rising sun on the glass front entrance of the company across the hall from me. You can also see the sun reflecting on the wall, then the external glass windows, and the brick wall of the exterior of the building.

Make sense?

You can see how it would be blinding, right? I'm slightly off-kilter, a little off-the-wall, and maybe a little neurotic and OCD, but I'm not crazy, right?

TTFN
JMS

PS: The blinding reflection is gone now...until tomorrow morning.

Letter (ahem...Rant) to That Little Black Car

Dear Little Black Car...

...Who cut me off on Pellissippi Parkway this morning by pulling out in front of me from George Light Rd. I HAD NO WHERE TO GO AND WAS GOING 55 MPH! And, since this is a rant, how stupid are you? Have you ever actually read your Driver's Education Manual? What you did endangered not only your life, but mine and the people traveling beside me - hence the reason I could not simply switch lanes to let your dumb self over. The guy behind me thought quick and wound up having to pull into the street you just pulled out of - did you know that? - to avoid hitting me when I slammed on my brakes to avoid hitting YOU. It is a very good thing that, even decaffeinated, I have a decent little car, quick reflexes and a strong awareness of my surroundings. Still...it took me several miles to come down off the rush (read "scare") you gave me. And, just as a matter of note, if I wasn't awake then - which I most certainly was or you and I, and possibly several others, would be dead now - I was definitely awake after that brilliant little stunt you pulled. I suggest you revisit your Driver's Ed Manual immediately or talk to people with more experience than yourself. You're gonna kill someone if you continue to drive with your head shoved so far up your backside that you need a Plexiglas navel to see where you're going.

Sincerely,
Alive Because I'm Smarter and Faster Than You

(Credit for the super-awesome Plexiglas insult goes to Gene Roure. My Second Dad and the smartest, most clever guy I know. How many years ago did you tell me that? I've never forgotten it and still consider it the most fantastic insult ever. You Rock!

Now...if I could just find one of those little headlight wipers to go with the Plexiglas navel.)

Fun? Oh, ever so much!

You know what's fun? Laryngitis. You know what's even more fun? An upper respiratory infection to go along with it. It's a good thing I don't need to talk to post this, eh?

TTFN
JMS

Easter (Bunny) Musings

I don't want to just make stuff up, really - I kind of like research and facts. If I don't know about something I tend to go directly to my preferred search engine and start seeking information. Even if it's just a tidbit here and there, it's likely more than I knew when I started. This makes me a font of useless knowledge and tidbits, but an expert in nothing special.

I heard something on the radio this morning that made me question myself and my fact seeking quests, though. The DJ - using his made-for-radio voice to fill time between songs - said, "...the average age that kids stop believing in the Easter Bunny is around age 6."

Really? Because my kids still believe, and they're 7 and 10, respectively. I would suspect my son has an idea that his mom is full of hot air...(something I don't deny, honestly)...but then thinking twice I wonder if he'd actually be upset to learn that the Easter Bunny is, in fact, me? My daughter asked me just last night if I thought the Easter Bunny was going to bring her a basket this year. I did my best, non-committal, "Hmmmm...we'll see," and left it at that.

Don't get me started on Santa Claus.

I suppose the lengths I go to to make stuff up for the sake of my kids happiness is further than I realized. I wonder if it's time for me to start backing off? These things have definitely been fun, mostly because it's pretty cool to watch their faces as I explain to them how I spoke personally with the Tooth Fairy to let her know that the lost tooth would not be under Beta Child's pillow because said child would be snuggling with me. This is important stuff. This is amazing stuff! I actually have the Tooth Fairy's cell phone number! And yes, it's magical.

TTFN
JMS

That moment when...

Dontcha just hate it when someone says, "That moment when..." and goes on to say something completely off the wall or irrelevant to the current topic of conversation. No? Really?

I found out a couple things last night that, though not yet fit for public consumption, I must discuss on some level or I may explode. Both are family issues. Both are not good or fun or easy for those involved. And, of course, the kicker for me is that I cannot go into any detail what-so-ever because then I'd be breaking promises. I can say that no, these awful things are not my own, my immediate family's, or even my local state-extended family's issues. Doesn't make this any easier, though.

Vague and frustrating for you? Yeah, me, too. I apologize for that.

But I would like to ask for your prayers, thoughts, good vibrations - whatever you feel comfortable with - for these people that I love. Because...it can do no harm, and may actually do some good.

TTFN
JMS

PS: I'm wondering if these things, on some level, are why I couldn't sleep on Tuesday night? Am I that sensitive?

Contemplating the Complexities of Life - at 3AM

Last night was one of those nights. Hubby and I settled in to watch G.I. Joe: Retaliation but he fell asleep pretty quickly. I watched the entire movie - which was a good source of entertainment. Sometime after the movie was over, though, Little Bit got up and decided she needed me. This is unusual, because she's my good sleeper and doesn't ever get up unless there's something wrong. So I did the mommy thing. I snuggled with her for a bit, got her resettled, tucked her in, made sure she had her stuffed dog and her blankie, and made sure she was asleep again.

Good deal.

For her, yes. For me? Not so much.

I spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, contemplating the complexities of life, worrying about stuff that adults worry about and generally not sleeping.

Finally, though, about 4:30AM, I went out - deeply. Only to be awakened with much confusion and frustration at 5:15AM to take my daily thyroid meds.

So here I am now, running on empty and wondering how I'm going to make it through my day.

Hopefully it won't be one of those days.

TTFN
JMS

The Epitome of Grace & Bad Weather

So it's April, right? Exactly mid-way through April, actually. Oh - and I think something about Taxes, today, in particular? But the temperature is on its way to freezing and it cannot decide, at the moment, if it wants to snow or rain.

Plus, I fell - like the big klutz that I am - coming back into the building after having gone to my car for $ for the vending machine so I could get my bottle of water. (Gave up soda, thank you very much. Yes, I will accept applause and congratulations.) The fall was oh-so-graceful and I'm sure, should the security guys decide that they just have to review the tapes from today, they'll get a good laugh at my expense.

Whatever.

Except for the slightly throbbing knee and a greater wound to my pride, I shall survive.

Even this.

TTFN
JMS

If I must....

Well - I suppose since I'm now a contributing author at Tananda.com I should actually update my personal blog... Ya think? It's been far too long, anyway. Not that a lot has changed, really.

Kids are now 7 & 10 years old, which, in itself is news enough. Kiddo will be starting middle school this fall and I think I'm not old enough for that yet. Or, maybe I'm too old. Take your pick.

I probably could go on for paragraphs and paragraphs updating you on everything that has happened since we last spoke but you'd get bored and leave, so I'll be nice and restrain myself.

Anyway - make sure you take some time to check out Tananda.com, and for amusement take a peek at my contributing author profile page.

TTFN
JMS

Tigger

This is Tigger. 

He was my special little buddy.

He belonged to a very good friend of mine and her family.

We all lost Tigger last night.

We are very sad.

He's in God's hands now, and whole and strong and happy.

Miss him anyway.

My personal brand of insanity...

What is the definition of insanity?  The answer, the way I've heard it said, is "Trying the same thing over and over again expecting a different outcome."

What's my definition of insanity?

• Talking to my African violet plant as if it can understand me.  Someone has to encourage it to grow up big and strong and beautiful.
• Making sure there are no wrinkles in the bed sheets before I get in
• Straightening pictures on the wall of the doctor's office
• The absolute need I have to know which route we're going to take when someone else is driving.  I just need a little piece of information about the planned route so I can have the map in my head or else I cannot just sit back and relax.
• I can read a book cover to cover, then pick it up and read it cover to cover again
• And speaking of books, I make it my mission to pick out editorial "oopsies" in published works.  There are A TON of them!  Seriously people - get a better editor or at least remember to use spell check once in a while!  And don't even get me started on the Kindle version of books; the formatting errors are many and laughable!
• I still sleep with a blankie

Ok - so I suppose those aren't really definitions of insanity - but they sure do help explain me better!  Stay tuned - you never know what will show up here!

TTFN
JMS

Playin' catch-up!

It's been since FEBRUARY since I've posted anything.  I used to love this blog - and I'm still super happy that I have it, but I need to pay a little more attention to it; it's feeling neglected.

Quick overview: Still employed (thank God), still have two awesome and happy and healthy kiddos, still married to a great guy, my house is still a wreck and I've decided that's just going to be the way it is until A) the kids go off to college or B) I die...whichever comes first.  Neither prospect excites me.

I have a friend getting married this weekend, a friend having a baby next month, and many other friends having other life-changing milestones.

I'm in the middle of a nightmare project at work that, God willing, will be over tomorrow.  I've got another responsibility coming to me in the very near future that will add a butt-load of work, but really isn't anything I haven't already done; just a matter of figuring out how to blend it with my current responsibilities.

We decided to cancel VBS at church this year due to lack of participation and/or interest.  I held four meetings and never did the same people attend twice which meant that we were starting from scratch each time.  We were in super-crunch-time and I was in panic-mode and we were still at ground-zero.  So we pulled it in favor of a new program which begins next Tuesday, the Children's Activity Planners (a.k.a. CAPs).  CAPs will be all the adults getting together to have a fun brainstorming session to come up with monthly activities (we're calling them parties, really...not activities...it's more fun that way) for the kids to do.  Super excited about this, and I have some super excellent people already on board.  Hoping we can grow it.

Did a great fundraiser for the Children's Ministries a couple of weekends ago called "Treasures From Your Trunk" where people went through their homes and found items they were willing to "donate" and then we essentially had a great big yard sale!  It was not only fun, but super successful.  Looks like we may have found an annual event.  Want to grow that one, too!

Sandy-Mom is doing well.  Not sure if I mentioned this in a previous post (not willing to go back and check right now) but she moved here in Oct of 2010.  She's had a very rough time of things health-wise and has had some awful back pain of late, but is working with a pain specialist and getting shots, which seem to be helping.  She's envisioning being able to run around like she used to - back and forth, back and forth all the time - and, for her sake, and emotional sanity, I hope that vision comes true.

Well there's so much more to talk about but that's the overview.  I still thing where I live is the most beautiful place in the world.

TTFN
JMS

Oh yeah!  I cannot believe I forgot this!  I had surgery in May to have my Thyroid removed!  They removed it because I had Hashimoto's Thyroiditis along with a multi-nodular goiter and difficulty swallowing.  When they removed it...the pathology report showed "Incidental Papillary Cancer" (you can Google it, I'm too lazy right now...sorry.) which is basically a pre-cancer.  At a follow-up appointment with my endocrinologist he said that the cancer was point 9cm and was partially encapsulated, which meant that some of the cancer was not completely surrounded by thyroid tissue.  That also heightens the risk of recurrence.  They tested my thyroglobulin (a protein that I should no longer be making because of my lack of thyroid) and the results came back as "undetectable" - all of which is good news.  He (endocrinologist) still wants to do the radioactive iodine pill to permanently kill any possibility of the cancer returning 20-30-60 years down the road.

It's Monday

I've had a large McD's coffee (black, of course), and half a bottle of 5-hour Energy, which seems to be doing exactly nothing.

Already this morning I've tackled rearranging my boss's (I never know where to put the apostrophe) schedule, distributed photo ID which arrived via UPS overnight, talked to an awesome IT guy (one who actually knew what he was doing...) who helped me figure out why our network printer wasn't functioning properly, tried (though so far unsuccessfully) to assign a telecommuter-who-is-no-longer-a-telecommuter an cubicle which shouldn't be difficult but somehow is, and worked on a graphic for an email blast regarding the Employee Engagement Team's St. Patrick's Day event.

I'm also having a very bad hair day.  Well...life.

And I have gray ones that shine like a beacon in the night.  They're very distracting.

Oh look....I've just now realized it's noon.

TTFN
JMS

My Personal Phobia

I heard something today about a new phobia.  Well, I guess it's not all that new because I can find references to it dating as far back as 2008 (tee hee) - but it's new to me.  It's called 'Nomophobia' - the fear of being out of mobile phone contact or without your mobile phone.  (Side note, and coincidentally, a friend left her iPhone at home today and stated on Facebook that the world did NOT end.  I would say she does not have Nomophobia.) 

I have an unexplanible fear of...well...I don't really know what to call it.  If it has an official phobia name.  I am really not even sure how to describe it, exactly.  But I will do the best I can.  (What is that thing...the first step to getting help is admitting you have a problem?)

I am 38 years old and have never gone to college.  There.  I've said it.  It's out in the open and my shame is there for all to see.  Yes, I am shamed by this.  I SHOULD have gone to college but due to several circumstances (situational, financial and emotional) I did not.  I want to go to college.  Not just pretend I'm somewhat smart, but actually be able to PROVE that I am.  Have that little piece of paper that I can show others which says that I am capable of...well...whatever.

But I can't.

I'm absolutely TERRIFIED of going to school.  I don't know what it is but even WRITING about it, as I am now, has landed me on the sharp edge of a panic attack.  I'm actually weeping.  This totally sucks.

I don't know what to do to get over this.  Forget the fact that I don't have any money and couldn't actually afford to go if my fear were to suddenly and magically disappear. 

If anyone out there still reads my blog (because I've gotten so bad about keeping up with it) please, please, PLEASE help me figure out what is wrong with me?

TTFN
JMS

Where does the time go?

The time has come.  I can't believe it. 

Tonight, we have a meeting a Little Bit's school - to discuss Kindergarten readiness.

Yes.

Kindergarten.

Already.

Little Bit will be 5 in March and therefore she will start Kindergarten this fall.  She will take a test to determine readiness, but I have no doubt she's ready.  She was probably ready last year (this past fall) - but...

Kiddo is in 2nd grade and that in itself is scary to me. 

For those people who say things like, "You'd better watch out - it goes faster than you think!"  I say, "You're right...and every second is amazing so don't miss ANYTHING."

I fear I've already missed so much.

TTFN
JMS

Too late

You know it's too late when you do an online search for a friend's address only to find their obituary instead.  And then to find out that this friend passed away in September...3 months earlier...and you're just now finding out about it.

I feel badly.  I truly do.  But I don't make a habit of searching obituaries for people I know and was truly surprised, and saddened, to find that our former neighbor is no longer with us.

She and her husband were good friends to us when Kiddo was small, and when Little Bit was brand new.  They had two goofy rescue poodles who were fun to watch and to play with, even if they barked like mad.  They fed us...often...on excellent homemade Italian food, strong coffee, and even sometimes wine.  They gave and gave and gave of themselves...and then we moved away.  Shortly thereafter, they moved, too.  Out of state.  And we lost touch.

He is still alive.  She is not.  She will be missed.

And I am sad.

TTFN
JMS

That feeling...

You know that feeling?  The one you get when you've just eaten a poppy- or sesame-seed bagel and you are worried that you have seeds stuck in your teeth, but you're no where near a mirror to confirm this so you just hope no one will notice?  There's a lot of "not smiling" involved.  The tip of your tongue gets kind of sore for running it over your teeth hoping to feel an offending particle.  You're convinced people you talk to are staring at the little black bits wedged near your gum line, so you're self-conscious - yet you're kind of ticked off, too, because you wish they'd just say, "Hey!  You know you have stuff stuck in your teeth, right?"  And no one you know, who is currently around to ask, is someone you're close enough to, to go over and grin Cheshire-Cat like and ask, "Do I have anything in my teeth?"

Just like you wish people would say something - anything - when you've been walking around with your fly open all morning.  (Not that this has ever happened to me.  Nope. Nope. Nope.)

TTFN
JMS

A Walk Between Raindrops

Right now I am feeling stretched so thin that I could probably walk between raindrops in a downpour and not get wet.

I can't believe that I haven't posted anything since JUNE.  How careless of me.

Never mind that it's now Christmas and on top of already feeling overwhelmed, now I have to worry about how I'm going to pay for Christmas gifts for the kids.  We don't ever get them much, but we want to get them something.  My house is still a mess, even though I've worked my a$$ off trying to get out from under the mountains of crap. 

To top it off - my Mother's birthday would have been tomorrow.  December 15th.  It hit me like a ton of bricks about 30 minutes ago when I physically wrote the date 12/14 and thought to myself, "Hm...why is that date important?"  And then I remembered Mom's birthday.  I'm partially upset because I miss her and even after 22 years I still would want to be able to give her a hug and tell her I love her and wish her a Happy Birthday.  She knows, though.  I'm partially upset because after 22 years, the date of her birth isn't foremost on my mind like I think it should be and I feel guilty for having to actually wonder why the date struck me as important.  So now I've made myself a bit sad, and I wasn't sad 30 minutes ago.

And please, don't tell me to snap out of it.  I feel like being sad right now.  But I promise it won't last too long because I have too much to do for it to remain at the forefront.  I have to get through my work day.  And then we have to be at church tonight at 5PM and I have to work on catching up on paperwork and cleaning out the crap that has accumulated in my classroom, too.

I have to plan the Evening with Art (a gallery of the artwork the children have done during my Devotions class this past Fall) which will take place at the church Jan 4th.  I have to plan Devotions classes for January.  I have to organize Devotions classes for February AND a Valentine's day something-or-other for the Sunday school kids.  Thankfully not ALL of that has to get done tonight.

And then BAM!  Christmas.

How did that happen?

Where did the time go?

How did my kids get to be almost-8 and almost-5?

Anyway - I think I'd better quit while I'm ahead.  Thanks for letting me vent!

TTFN
JMS

They say, "Write what you know..."

I'm a complicated person.

I'm allergic to mushrooms.  To codeine.  To ibuprofen.  To NSAIDs in general.  To aspirin...by default.  To grass and trees and leaves and mold and dander and guinea pigs (especially guinea pigs) and the list goes on.  I spend most of the Spring and Fall sneezing and dripping and wishing for relief.  But Benadryl (or anything with diphenhydramine) knocks me flat on my butt and I am then useless for at least 24 hours.  Other allergy meds tend make me lethargic - but typically do not render me unconscious.  They sometimes work.  Mostly, people who know me are used to the constant barrage of violent sneezing and sniffing and itchy-throat scratching.  It is just a part of being me.  Love me or leave me, right?

I hate wrinkles in my sheets and at least try to straighten them before I climb in for the night.  Hubby likes a tangled mess - I like a nice neat cocoon.

I can burn water - but bake with some success....although I truly dislike cooking.

I make a mean fruit salad.

I'm a terrible housekeeper - but I am anal to the point of obsession.  I haven't quite figured out how those go together, or why they do not.

I get distracted by....Oh! Look!  Something shiny!  (Blame it on the ADD)

I love to read.  I'll read just about anything.

I love music.  Except 99.9% of rap music...which I guess I just don't understand.

I put something yucky in my trash can at work every day just to ensure that the cleaning people actually change the plastic liner every night.  If I don't...they don't.

I enjoy making the coffee at the office in the morning...except when I don't.  Which happens.  And then I bless the other early morning coffee goddess with every sip of the hot caffeinated liquid.

I enjoy writing.  I like to write short stories.  I've had several false starts at writing a book.  I think I need to plan it better - but I feel like I do better writing just to write...without a plan or an outline.  Maybe I don't have a purpose.  Maybe someday I'll have enough time to focus on writing exclusively - but I am not going to hold my breath.

I think this is enough for now.  Are you scared yet?

TTFN
JMS

Mountains of Crap!

Right now, I'm about as close to a breakdown as I can possibly be - I think.  I'm feeling pulled in 50 different directions and I have so much to do and not enough time to do it all.  And my house is suffering for it. 

I know I've said this before but I think I am going to seriously get a shovel and just start dumping stuff.  Necessary or not.  Gotta dig out from the drifts that are taking over my house. 

Some would call them piles of clutter or "hot spots".  I call them MOUNTAINS OF CRAP!  They make me feel crazier than I already do and are definitely not conducive to calm, rational thinking. 

Relaxation?  In my own home?  Forget it!

Ok - I'm done ranting now.

TTFN
JMS

friggatriskaidekaphobia

Today is Friday the 13th. Just thought I'd point that out.

Did you know that the fear of Friday the 13th is called friggatriskaidekaphobia? Or paraskevidekatriaphobia?

Wikipedia states:

"The fear of Friday the 13th is called friggatriskaidekaphobia (Frigga being the name of the Norse goddess for whom "Friday" is named and triskaidekaphobia meaning fear of the number thirteen), or paraskevidekatriaphobia a concatenation of the Greek words Paraskeví (Παρασκευή, meaning "Friday"), and dekatreís (δεκατρείς, meaning "thirteen") attached to phobía (φοβία, from phóbos, φόβος, meaning "fear"). The latter word was derived in 1911and first appeared in a mainstream source in 1953."

Actually - that entire article is really about the superstition(s) behind Friday the 13th. Jason Voorhees only makes a brief appearance under the heading of "Planned events on Fridays the 13th"

Now don't you feel like you've learned something today?

TTFN
JMS

The Story of the Pregnant Cat and the Missing Kittens

Sweetie and 2 of her 5 kittens

Once upon a time there was an old woman who lived in a shoe...

Wait, wrong tale.

Once upon a time there lived a small, sweet, adorable and very pregnant black & white cat.  She was a homeless cat, but she adopted some people who fed her and took care of her as much as they could.  She was so sweet that her many adopted humans called her "Sweetie."

The day came when she arrived back from wherever she spent her nights, and lo - she was thin again!  Exhausted, and starving - but very happy to get petted and loved on by her humans.

Her humans exclaimed, "Oh!  Sweetie!  Where are your kittens?"  Her humans tried to get her to lead them to where she'd hidden her kittens.  She seemed disinterested, wandering this way and that and lying down whenever the mood struck her.

Her humans worried about the kittens and spent hours stomping through the trees, bushes and undergrowth.  Walking through backyards of unknown neighbors.  Hoping for some sign, some tiny mew.

To no avail.  Sweetie's kittens were missing.

Almost 6 weeks to the day later, one of her beloved humans noticed Sweetie and one, teeny tiny kitten, on the back porch.  An hour later - there were 2 kittens.  By the end of the evening all 5 kittens had relocated to the bushes in her human's back yard.

Moral:

Don't count your kittens before they hatch.

Uh...

Don't underestimate the power of cute.

Uh...

Never mind.  I'm done now.  Does anyone want a kitten?  Or a perfect in every way momma kitty?  Please?  They all need loving forever homes.

TTFN
JMS

...Barest Grace of Fingertips...

No matter how hard I try, my arms, stretched as wide as they can go, will not allow even the barest grace of fingertips against the walls in the hallway at my office.  This frustrates me to no end in an OCD kind of way and I can't do anything, anything, to change it!  It's got to be no more than about a half an inch difference, but I'm just not tall enough.

This strikes me as strange: A 37 year old woman getting frustrated that she can't touch both walls in the hallway at the same time.

It's Tuesday and I do believe it is going to be one of those days.

TTFN
JMS

Observations, An Article & A Question

In no particular order, these are some things I observed or heard on the way to work this morning:

1) An Observation: I think it's funny that NPR used the first 5 notes of Beck's "Loser" as Bumper Music.

2) An Article: Did Harsh Interrogations Tactics Lead to Bin Laden? (I heard this on NPR this morning.)

3) An Observation: I was driving past my beloved lake this morning (the one that has a long, paved walking trail) and saw a duck, a female mallard I do believe, walking along the trail.  Just her.  Just the duck.  Getting ready to cross the crosswalk by the boat ramp.  It's the stuff you see in movies and on TV - not in real life.  It made me smile.

4) An Observation: I saw a woman driving an older model, red, Isuzu Trooper.  Her windshield was so cracked from hail damage it's a wonder she was able to see to drive.  And she was on her cell phone.

And a question:

What do you put in a May Day Basket?  I keep seeing "Flowers and Sweets" but is that ALL?  Really?  Hm...seems rather boring, if you ask me.

Oh - and Happy Cinco de Mayo!

TTFN
JMS

Did you ever have one of *THOSE* days?

Yesterday was Tuesday.  A normal, average, everyday....Tuesday.  Except that it wasn't.  I was discombobulated from the start; I'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed - figuratively speaking.  Not that I was in a bad mood, really - but I wasn't feeling completely OK mentally and emotionally, either.

So work was slow, but actually not too bad.  I was able to get everything on my plate accomplished for a change, which was a nice feeling.  But the gray, windy, water-logged day that loomed outside my window kept me feeling very somber.

Quite honestly - I think I'm still struggling internally with several things that have happened over the last few days, both in the main-stream media and in my own little personal life.  Not the least of which is the Osama bin Laden situation.  I'm sticking with Proverbs 24:17-18 - it comforts me right now.  It makes me remember that there is a reason I feel the way I feel about the entire thing.

"Do not gloat when your enemy falls; when he stumbles, do not let your heart rejoice, or the Lord will see and disapprove and turn his wrath away from him."

Of course there's also the death of my friend from church.  I'm still very reflective.  I'm trying to consider how best I can help the family he left behind - in my small way, and in my free time.  Which sounds sarcastic, but isn't.

Also, my car has been giving me trouble, which has me concerned because I have no idea how we're going to pay to have it fixed.  It stalled on me three times on the way home - in rush-hour traffic, of course - which caused me to call Our Favorite Mechanic to tell him I was headed over there and needed him to look at the car...right now.  I limped the car over to his shop, and after putting it up on the rack and staring at it for several minutes, Our Favorite Mechanic's Assistant announced, "Well, it ain't gonna be cheap," and then further explained the problem.  I don't recall the exact terms, except to say that something is leaking into something and it's corroding from the inside causing the thing (that's a technical term, you know) to short out, which is making the car stall.

After some fancy switching of cars, I finally arrived at my other job at church, an hour and a half later than I'd intended.

I then proceeded to smash my daughter in the face with the heavy front door of the church.  I'm still so upset about that I could cry every time I think about it.  I had my hands full of work stuff, and my purse and I was carrying all of our drive-through dinners.  I got my pinkie finger on my right hand around the front door handle and pulled, then stuck my right foot in the door and shoved it open with my foot.  Never dreaming that my daughter was behind the door!  I couldn't see her!  I thought she was behind me, but she was behind the door.  The door hit her square on the left side of her face and knocked her flat on her backside in the pouring rain.  Oh, did I mention it was pouring rain at that time, too?  Oh, did I feel awful!  She cried.  I dumped the food on the floor inside the church entrance and flew back out to get her, as she was still sitting in the rain puddles, crying.

Nothing is broken, thank goodness.  But she's going to have quite a bruise.  She had an ice pack almost immediately and then ate her food and played quietly with her brother until I got finished with my work.  Then we went home, I gave her some ibuprofen, and she fell asleep.

Several other things happened yesterday, too.  One of which is that I called my boss (for all intents and purposes) from the church and verbally vomited my frustrations on her.  Thankfully she is a very calm soul, and someone I trust completely, so she was able to calm me down and get me refocused on what I have on my enormous to-do list.

Suffice it to say, I am very glad yesterday is over.  Now I just have to get through today and I think I'll be OK for the rest of the week.

Thanks for letting me get all that out!  Phew.  OK.  Now moving forward...

TTFN
JMS

And then there's this one, too...

I was particularly upset by the first sentence of the last paragraph.

"Intelligence officials say that key tips on the bin Laden courier network came from detainees, some of whom were exposed to enhanced interrogation tactics."

NPR Article: Who Gets the 27 Million Reward Offered for bin Laden's Capture?