Feeling Stressed?

This, my friends, is my therapy. I highly recommend getting some of your own.

What I Did on My First Vacation

Well, not my first vacation ever, but my first vacation that is paid for my new job. Here are some of the highlights:
Alice and the Mad Hatter had a baby! I have affectionately been calling her Squeakers because she makes all the cute little newborn squeaks. She might get a different blog name down the road, but who knows.

Her family kind of likes her. This is Jumping Bean's first time holding her, right after she came home from the hospital. Baby Girl is a big sister! And yes, she is still Baby Girl. Just like Little Man might possibly remain Little Man well into his senior years, when I am 100 and he is visiting his crazy Aunt Holliberry in the old people place, like a dutiful nephew.

Baby Girl might possibly have succeeded in beating me at pool, had she been exerting all her effort. Fortunately for me, she was more interested in the ball with the 4 on it, 4 currently being her favorite number. I was not to hit the 4 ball. She ensured this by kindly repositioning the cue ball for me each time it was my turn. I was kind enough to not hit the 4 ball, or many others, for that matter....

Alice is kinda smitten with Squeakers. She provides hours of fun. Our favorite thing to do is stare at her. And take pictures.

And I Quote:

"Which one of you is above 18?" ~~Skeezy man in the grocery store to me and the 17 year old I have with me. Ew. Ew. EW.

BABIES!!!

Alice and Mad Hatter are having a baby today! Yay for baby snuggles! If I can gain consent from the parents I will post pictures!

Also, I get to take vacation days. To go snuggle the baby. Good week!

I Done Got Me a Car (and a Diet)

So I'm sure you noticed this on your own calendar, but Saturday was Daddy/Daughter bonding day. For my special daddy/daughter event, we went car shopping. Because the stupid-head collission repair center totalled my car. I ended up getting a car which I am quite pleased with, for a payment that might allow me to still purchase groceries every other month. But that wasn't the fun part.

At the first place we pulled into, we parked the car and walked up to the little building (picture seedy looking used car lot), and this youngish guy wandered out and said something disinterested like "so I guess you've done some research and you probably know what you want?" I believe my father was holding piece of paper in his hands. So, you know, he was deducing and all. Then we told him the car we wanted to look at, and he was like, oh, that's not here. That's on our other lot. "But it was listed online as being at this address," my father pointed out. *Blank stare*. Oooooookay. Well, um, thanks.

At the second place we looked (the other lot--also seedy), we parked and walked towards the little building. A young man and woman in jeans and t-shirts, enjoying a smoke, stood there. As we approached, they were like, "hey." After a moment, they extinguished their cigarettes. At some point they asked us if we were looking for a car. And then informed us the one we were looking for was on another lot. And showed us the crappiest used car, that wreeked of cigarette smoke (blank stare from the woman when I pointed this out..."I haven't been in that one.") and I'm pretty sure the holes in the upholstery were from cigarette burns.

At the third place we looked at (an actual dealership), there were five or six salesmen just standing around when we got there. They all kind of looked at each other, and quite possibly did rock paper scissors, and then one came our way. The one with the cowboy heels with clacky heels. Seriously? Cliche much? He was all humble, gorsh, let's see what we might have on this here lot. And then he wandered around like he'd never seen the cars before. And then he looked for a car that I'm pretty sure didn't actually ever exist while he pointed out other cars far above the mileage and price point I had specified. And then we got in a car and drove down the street to the other lots they owned. We got out, looked around, he scratched his head some more, and then we went back to the first lot. And he scratched his head some more. And he showed me a car that was out of my price range, too high in mileage, and crappy. And THEN (and I swear he was trying to create the appearance of working really hard for us to produce this magical car by going through all the aforementioned motions), he showed me a cheaply made car, with no bells and whistles, that was about 4,000 abovie my price point, and had 97,000 miles on it. Yeah, I did not feel saved. I think that's what he was going for. He ran inside to "ask what price he could knock it down to," while my dad half-heartedly looked at the car and discussed leaving. He emerged to introduce his associate, who was taking over because he "had a phone call." Associate proceeded to inform us that he was from Brooklyn, where they talk straight. And then he babbled about the pro's of the car, including the fact that there were screws you could loosen all by yourself to change the headlights. They shore do have some straight talk in Brooklyn.

Once we escaped there we went to a whole other county and found an unslimey salesperson who looked like they had not had their will to live sucked out of them, and we got me a car. And that, my friends, is how I plan to lose weight.

Important Community Resources

So I was watching The Soup with Joel McHale, a Seattlite, and naturally this led me to think about sex offender registry search web sites. You know, because he was talking about those creepy pageants that deranged mothers put their five year old daughters in where they dress them up like divorcees from the 80's and put more makeup on them than I think I've worn in my life and teach them to pose like grown women lookin' for a date in a seedy bar. And I wondered to myself, self, do they have a search engine for my area? And the answer is yes. You should look in your county and see if you have this kind of resource.

There are three creepy men living in my neighborhood. I know that I would recognize them if I saw them because I saw their pictures and they are clearly creepy. So my advice to you, besides to look up the registry in your area, is to look for creepy men. Those are the ones to watch out for.

But seriously, folks. How cool is it that you can get email alerts? I'm not one to get all paranoid and wrap my kids in bubble wrap before I let them ride their bike or something (these are my imaginary kids, Phoebe and Luke, naturally-- I call Pheobe Phebes for short), but with all the crazy things going on in the world today it's kind of nice that you can be a little more aware of who your neighbors are. Or is it? Is it better not to be reminded of creepy men constantly, given the number of kids that grow up without encountering them at close range? I know what I think, but what do you think?

The Benefits of MyFace

I'm telling you... hours of fun:

Call the Nestle Hotline at 1-800-295-0051. When asked if you want to continue in English or Spanish, wait quietly for about 10 seconds and I PROMISE you will smile. Keep going and press 4. Then press 7.

Tweet Yourself.

So as if it wasn't bad enough that conversation hearts say things like "email me" and "text me." This year they say "tweet me." Where's the "update your relationship status" one?

PS: MyFace may be blocked at work, but blogger isn't. HA! I will use my time inefficietly yet, The Man!

I got one of those answer the list of question emails,and most of the questions were lame. So I'm only including the ones I feel like answering. Because you don't care what color my socks are.

3. What are you listening to right now? Lean on Me. For the tenth time. In the last hour. Don’t judge. It’s been a long day.
4. What was the last thing that you ate? pastry. Because I'm eating my feelings.
5. Can you drive a stick shift? Nope. Don't you feel that you have failed me by not teaching me that?
6. Last person you spoke to on the phone? My new favorite coworker, to tell her I hate her because she got a song stuck in my head. I don't have a blog name for her. It is yet to come. No fear, it will. It might possibly be SingingGirl. Because she's always getting songs in my head. You wish you could be as creative as me.
8. How old are you today? Um, hi, innernets, I am not telling you.
9. What is your favorite sport to watch on TV? Football or bowling. This is not including wii sports, right? Because I enjoy watching Little Man playing archery. he enjoyed shooting the arrows into... the dirt... the castle far off... the canyon....
10. What is your favorite drink? Fresh lemonade! Make me some!
12. Favorite food? Depends on the mood-- chocolate, steak, lima beans, seafood....
13. What is the last movie you watched? Emma (the new Masterpiece Theatre--2008). FABULOUS. Highly recommend it!
14. Favorite day of the year? Christmas!
15. How do you vent anger? Cleaning and running
16. What was your favorite toy as a child? Sandbox or bike
17. What is your favorite season? Whatever is currently the season
18. Cherries or Blueberries? Blueberries
19. Do you want your friends to e-mail you back? Always!
20. Who is the most likely to respond? No one! Slackers!
23. When was the last time you cried? When I found out my car was totalled. Stupid crappy drivers.
24. What is on the floor of your closet? Many things.
25. Who is the friend you have had the longest that you are sending to? Alice
26. What did you do last night? Sulked over my totalled car.
27. What are you most afraid of? Heights? Ugly shoes?
28. Plain, cheese, or spicy hamburgers? CHEESE! with lactaid :D
29. Favorite dog breed? Mutt
30. Favorite day of the week? Friday
31. How many states have you lived in? Two
32. Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds. Duh.
33. What are your favorite flowers? Roses or ones that smell pretty, or ones that look pretty, or ones people give me. Why don't you give me flowers? What is wrong with you?

Garbagaholics live near me.

Dear Neighbors,

What is with the throwing perfectly good things away? Have you people never heard of Good Will, DI or the myriad other thrift stores that will take your junk. Because your trash could be someone else treasure, people. It's all about being green, and you are not being green. Bad!

Observing the perfectly good things I've seen left in or by the dumpster for disposal has caused me to think. I have started to think even more about the easy, obvious things we can do to not only be Green, but to save money, which I know is a high motivation factor for many people right now.

I've spent some time researching places online with good green ideas, and I loved this website. They pointed out that buying fresh food and cooking yummy recipes at home is actually being green, because fresh food involves less packaging than processed food. Also I think generally it's healthier to eat fresh. And I hear a rumor it can cost less. Also changing out your bulbs for the low-energy fluorescent bulbs is supposed to save energy and your money! Score! We had our local energy company come through our apartments a year ago and give us FREE bulbs for all our light fixtures. I do not believe any of them have burnt out yet. These are not your mamma's fluorescent bulbs. They are a lovely, warm fluorescent bulb. They are nice and bright and cheery. Also, did you know you can harvest rain water to water your garden? We've had a few drops of rain this winter... think of the water we could capture, and deduct from our water bill! You know, for our huge garden that we have.

In conclusion, neighbors, stop putting perfectly good furniture by the dumpster. Drive it to the freaking thrift store.

Am I Really Old Enough to be Retrospecting?

I recently went to a High School graduation ceremony, and by recently I mean last June. This, my friends, is what happens when you draft things when you are unemployed. You get distracted by the business of watching infomercials and the brilliant posts you compose fall by the wayside. But never fear, my blogger-block has inspired me to dig it out. Anywho, when at this commencement ceremony, it caused me to look back over the years, and count, and realize it's been over a decade since my High School graduation (in fact it's almost a decade since I graduated from college), and freak out, and then reflect.

First, it made me reflect on how our society is deteriorating rapidly and some people should not be allowed out in public. To the people sitting around us: maybe you've never been to a graduation before (see what I did there? I've been holding that in for a week), but when they play Pomp and Circumstance, you are supposed to STAND. From the first graduate to the last graduate. You will not die from all of that standing. Also, just because your particular graduate apparently made it there by the skin of their teeth and is not part of the band or choir, or one of the speakers, does not entitle you to talk LOUDLY during the choir and band performances, and over the poor valedictorian who worked so hard to prepare a speech. It was his moment. He's going off to college, where he most likely won't be known by all, and ranked the smartest. And you totally just disrespected him. Shame on you, people behind me. And ANOTHER thing. When the master of ceremonies reminds us SIX TIMES that you should not use air horns, that means that you SHOULD NOT. Nor should you hand it to your teenager, and have them do it. There's this thing your supposed to be doing--parenting. You know, where you teach your kids that breaking the rules placed there in respect to those eager to hear their name read, a moment they have dreamed about for years, is jacked up. Way to go parents. You have perpetuated the tradition of idiots at graduation. Your children will follow in your footsteps.

Second, the valedictorian's speech caused me to reflect. He did what I think is common at this point in your education career. He talked about teachers who had helped shape him at his high school, and why they are so great. I really did love that he did this. It was obvious that these teachers were loved by many from the crowd reaction when he dropped their names. I can think of teachers at my high school that got this recognition at assemblies and during other gatherings such as graduation. I automatically think of my teacher, Mr Vinson, who was my favorite teacher in Junior High School. He was my teacher who made me want to be the best in a classroom for the first time since elementary school, and he showed us how to have fun while applying ourselves. He always got the cheers at school gatherings. I think of my choir teacher, Mr. T (he probably pities the fool, but it's not that Mr. T) who was one of the best high school choir teachers out there. Even though I'm pretty sure he didn't like me very much (he once yelled at me for looking at my nails too much while we practiced in front of the whole class--a nervous habit I had at the time, and possibly still do. But he was right. I'm sure I was annoying). Those are two teachers who I'm sure have gotten lots of shouts-out throughout the years. As an adult who now works with teenagers, I think of them both a lot, especially Mr. Vinson. Working with teenagers is a hard job. Even if you know you have to be the bad guy sometimes, since you are in a position of authority, and have to think about their safety and well-being, you still want them to like you. It's sad when they don't. I sometimes question if I"m asserting my authority correctly, or if I'm coming across more like Mr. Fill-in-the-Name, who always made me wonder why he taught since he seemed to hate teenagers. In reality, and in retrospect, I don't think he did hate teenagers. He just didn't put up with some of our adolescent antics, among other things. And sometimes I am that adult.

In retrospect, having been in the position where you care about these sweet little teenagers, and watch them grow and change and become adults, I wish I had shown more gratitude to my teachers. Certain teachers knew I appreciated them. But I never was that kid who brought the card on teacher appreciation day. And as an adult, I realize how hard it is to tell sometimes how much you are impacting their lives. I have teenagers who seem to like me, but I do not generally even factor in when they think about the things they will miss when they go to college, along with most other adults who have impacted them deeply for years. Lately I've had some sweet girls who are more vocal about their appreciation for me. When they all chime in and tell me they love me, or that I'm funny, or they include me in a conversation about the boy they like or the dress they're getting for prom, or they "friend" me on MyFace, I'm always a little surprised. And I think that maybe, just maybe, someday I'll be cool. I just need to go look up krunk on urbandictionary.com. Because I seriously don't know what it means. And I've got to be old if I don't even have a guess what the slang means, right?

If I Were Rich

Lately I have made the statement "if I were rich I would..." quite a few times. I think I have brilliant ideas of what to do with money. Somebody should give me a lot, and then I will spend it for them. Because, if I were rich, I would:

1. Buy a house where one room was dedicated entirely to being a library. There would be a fireplace to keep it toasty in the winter. There would be big windows to let in lots of light, and it would look out on a naturey view. By naturey I mean green. Dirt is not nature. It's dirt. And it would be covered from wall to wall with books. Good books. Some of them with really pretty binding, and some of them falling apart because they are so good they get read that much. There would be multiple editions of Austen books. Because I already own multiple editions. As should you.

2. fly to fun destinations for vacation. Often those destinations would be decided by the great book I have just read. Because I can go walk in the footsteps of the characters. Or in the case of nonfiction, I could continue the learning fun. Also, movies that make me want to go places would help me plan vacations. And I could watch that movie ON THE FLIGHT THERE.

3. Have a closet for my purses. Because I want to buy lots of pretty purses. I blame this on Dizzle. She keeps sending me links. She's the devil.

4. Have lots of shoes, preferably ones that don't try to eat my foot like the ones I wore today. Also, I would surgically alter my feet to be the same size. I don't recall this being an issue, but recently my left shoe has been roomier than my right shoe. I think my left foot is shrinking. Also, as a result of trying to keep an even stride and not lose my left shoe, I think my left calf is larger than my right. Sexy.

5. Have my own little pottery studio. Because I like pottery.The end.

You'll notice I didn't put anything of a philanthropic nature on my list. This is because my heart is three sizes too small. Also, because um, duh, I can find some "causes" to support, but if you don't know what they are, most likely we have not met and also you have not read my blog. But mostly because I'm petty and self-centered.

Best. Tax. Return. Ever.

So it turns out that being mind-bogglingly poor (watching the W-2's and unemployment report roll in only confirmed that it's miraculous I'm not homeless after last year) yielded my highest ever tax return. Truly miraculous considering I didn't withhold anything from my unemployment. Crazy not to withhold, you say? Um, not so much when you consider that I got pretty much the lowest amount allowed for unemployment payments. I really should have lost more weight last year, I tell ya.

What am I doing with all that money, you ask? Paying off bills. Woohoo! All you flat screen TV and juicer buyin' fools enjoy your toys. I'm going to try to lower my anxiety and feel less poor. Only time will tell if I regret not buying a whole new set of shoes. Instead of the one or two pairs I fully intend to buy... they're a necessity, I tell you!

For the Love.

My new phrase. For crying out loud has served me well, and is certainly a part of my collection of phrases to exclaim in exasperation. But For the Love is also fabulous, and I shall use it. Like today, when the fax machine kept trying to feed all three pages at the same time. For. The. Love.

Obviously this phrase is reserved for only the truly frustrating situations one encounters in life. Like the fax machine. Or the fact that I could not for the life of me get my white out container open. Or the fact that all my shows are on hiatus because of the blasted olympics. Or the fact that I have to do laundry again, even though I JUST DID LAUNDRY. OR my apparent inability to think of anything to post about.