Bobble Head
As you might recall, I joined Weight Watchers. I've lost a total of 7 pounds in the last month or two. Sure it's no "Jared from Subway" results, but the reality is that I already weigh a little less than I did when I got pregnant, and only a pound or so more than what I did when I got married a few years ago. And the fact is, I'm pretty comfortable at this weight. I'm currently wearing what were known as my "Pre Murph Skinny Pants"
That's not to say that I wouldn't like to drop a few more pounds and get into a range I haven't seen in years. But that isn't what this is about.
This is about why I love the Chief.
Chiefy didn't care if I lost any weight or not. He was still calling me Sassy McGoo as I waddled into the hospital ready to deliver.
But he has been SO encouraging in my weight loss efforts. So much so that he joined WW with me (He proceeded to drop about 15 pounds in 2 weeks, but I'll try not to hold that against him) and now looks up healthy recipes to make for supper.
He has complimented me on my new slimmer body more times lately than I can count. But even in those compliments he infuses his own personal style, and is able to make me laugh. Let me give you a couple of examples of his new terms of endearment.
Chicken Neck (I guess a pound or two dropped off there)
Skinny Minnie (never in my LIFE has this name been applied to me! My sister, but never me!)
Flat Butt (For someone whose college nickname was Rump Shaker, well that's huge)
But my favorite is Bobble Head. He claims that my body is shrinking and that my head will soon just bobble along (he emphasizes this with head bobbing motions)
Last night he told our middle boy that he wanted to kick me in the butt and see how long my head shook like a little dog in a car window.
God love the Chief!
Friday, March 07, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
While we are on the topic of balls.....
I am an animal lover. Wonderpup has been like my child for nearly 10 years. Granted, now that Murph is here he's more of a red-headed step child, but a child none the less.
That being said....I hate the neighbor's dog.
Ok, even that isn't fair to say, because I think that "Lacy, Laaacy, God Damn it Lacy" is a sweet enough dog. She just is starved for attention. The "Loudlys" are not nice to the dog. Even though they have a fenced yard, she is often chained up out there. She doesn't have a dog house, can only crawl under the deck. We did finally see them take the dog inside when the wind chill was sub zero, one time. Now that it's warming up she's back out on the deck.
Did I mention the deck was about 20 feet from my bedroom window. The window of a poorly constructed, lightly insulated, rental home?
So while they are in their house, stuffing thier oversized faces and those of their oversized children, the dog sits on a picnic table looking through the window and barks.
And Barks.
AND BARKS.
Last night I had had enough. Standing at the door screaming "Shut Up!" at the top of my lungs didn't seem to have any affect on "God Damn it Lacy".
So in a moment of weakness and idea came to me.
Meatballs.
Anti-freeze meatballs.
But then that little angel who so rarely appears on my shoulder poped in to say hello.
"It's not the poor dog's fault," she said.
She was right, I knew that.
Then the little devil (who is there MUCH more frequently) spoke up
"Make the meatballs. Just leave them on the front porch as a gift for the Loudly's. They don't look like they would turn down free food"
Tempting. Verrrrry tempting.
I settled for yelling "Shut Up" one more time.
I figure using Antifreeze didn't work too well for that Jensen guy.
and I'm too pretty for jail.
I am an animal lover. Wonderpup has been like my child for nearly 10 years. Granted, now that Murph is here he's more of a red-headed step child, but a child none the less.
That being said....I hate the neighbor's dog.
Ok, even that isn't fair to say, because I think that "Lacy, Laaacy, God Damn it Lacy" is a sweet enough dog. She just is starved for attention. The "Loudlys" are not nice to the dog. Even though they have a fenced yard, she is often chained up out there. She doesn't have a dog house, can only crawl under the deck. We did finally see them take the dog inside when the wind chill was sub zero, one time. Now that it's warming up she's back out on the deck.
Did I mention the deck was about 20 feet from my bedroom window. The window of a poorly constructed, lightly insulated, rental home?
So while they are in their house, stuffing thier oversized faces and those of their oversized children, the dog sits on a picnic table looking through the window and barks.
And Barks.
AND BARKS.
Last night I had had enough. Standing at the door screaming "Shut Up!" at the top of my lungs didn't seem to have any affect on "God Damn it Lacy".
So in a moment of weakness and idea came to me.
Meatballs.
Anti-freeze meatballs.
But then that little angel who so rarely appears on my shoulder poped in to say hello.
"It's not the poor dog's fault," she said.
She was right, I knew that.
Then the little devil (who is there MUCH more frequently) spoke up
"Make the meatballs. Just leave them on the front porch as a gift for the Loudly's. They don't look like they would turn down free food"
Tempting. Verrrrry tempting.
I settled for yelling "Shut Up" one more time.
I figure using Antifreeze didn't work too well for that Jensen guy.
and I'm too pretty for jail.
Monday, February 25, 2008
That's what he said
We got a phone call this weekend from Chiefy's ex. Incase you aren't aware, over 2000 miles seperate us. Five states lie between our state and their state. We won't see them again until a month from now when they visit for spring break. Seems that our 11 year old told the 8 year old to "lick his balls."
WHAT the heck are we supposed to do about it?
She seems to think that instead of picking up this kind of language at their public school, which they attend every day, they picked it up from their cousins. Of course those would be their 17 and 10 year old cousins on OUR side of the family. Cousins that they see 2, maybe 3 times a year. We are to have a "talkin" to with the nephews to explain why they shouldn't use that language.
She's a nutter. This is the same person who went on and on about how they aren't allowed to play those video games at her house, or at any of her family member's houses. Then the boys told us how much fun they had with their uncle (her brother) playing those same games!
So Chief held in the laughter as he explained to the 11 year old why he is not allowed to say that to his infuriating little brother. And promised that he would "once again" talk to their cousins.
Thank goodness she doesn't have anything serious to worry about. Like the fact that the 8 year old is falling behind in school. He might repeat third grade, but at least he won't say BALLS.
We got a phone call this weekend from Chiefy's ex. Incase you aren't aware, over 2000 miles seperate us. Five states lie between our state and their state. We won't see them again until a month from now when they visit for spring break. Seems that our 11 year old told the 8 year old to "lick his balls."
WHAT the heck are we supposed to do about it?
She seems to think that instead of picking up this kind of language at their public school, which they attend every day, they picked it up from their cousins. Of course those would be their 17 and 10 year old cousins on OUR side of the family. Cousins that they see 2, maybe 3 times a year. We are to have a "talkin" to with the nephews to explain why they shouldn't use that language.
She's a nutter. This is the same person who went on and on about how they aren't allowed to play those video games at her house, or at any of her family member's houses. Then the boys told us how much fun they had with their uncle (her brother) playing those same games!
So Chief held in the laughter as he explained to the 11 year old why he is not allowed to say that to his infuriating little brother. And promised that he would "once again" talk to their cousins.
Thank goodness she doesn't have anything serious to worry about. Like the fact that the 8 year old is falling behind in school. He might repeat third grade, but at least he won't say BALLS.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Grandma Great's Grill
Before Flava Flav or Nelly had them, my great grandma was rockin some gold teeth. Not many, just a few, but that tended to make an impression on a little kid.
When asked how she came to have these gold teeth, she didn't just offer a standard answer, no Grandma Great had her own sense of humor. She said that if you lose a tooth, and don't put your tongue in the space left, you would get a gold tooth.
Everytime I lost a tooth I would try to keep my tongue away, but sadly I never got a gold tooth of my own. It's impossible to do, you know.
It seems Murph is doomed to have boring pearly whites just like me. He's gotten his first tooth, and more are on their way, and he can't leave them alone. Every time I look at him he either has his finger in his mouth or has his tongue stuck out.
I told him Grandma Great's story. He thought it sounded ridiculous.
Before Flava Flav or Nelly had them, my great grandma was rockin some gold teeth. Not many, just a few, but that tended to make an impression on a little kid.
When asked how she came to have these gold teeth, she didn't just offer a standard answer, no Grandma Great had her own sense of humor. She said that if you lose a tooth, and don't put your tongue in the space left, you would get a gold tooth.
Everytime I lost a tooth I would try to keep my tongue away, but sadly I never got a gold tooth of my own. It's impossible to do, you know.
It seems Murph is doomed to have boring pearly whites just like me. He's gotten his first tooth, and more are on their way, and he can't leave them alone. Every time I look at him he either has his finger in his mouth or has his tongue stuck out.
I told him Grandma Great's story. He thought it sounded ridiculous.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
(Thumb placed firmly on forehead) It wasn't me!
I hate public restrooms. (I would hold "it" all day if I could.)
I hate a stinky public restroom even more. (Do your "business" at home")
But even more than that, I hate walking into an offending restroom when no one is around, and out of it when a crowd has gathered.
Because you KNOW those people think I'm the reason it stinks.
I hate public restrooms. (I would hold "it" all day if I could.)
I hate a stinky public restroom even more. (Do your "business" at home")
But even more than that, I hate walking into an offending restroom when no one is around, and out of it when a crowd has gathered.
Because you KNOW those people think I'm the reason it stinks.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
And she wonders why I make fun of her..
My younger sister is a good person. She is a great aunt to Murph, his brothers, and his cousins. She is loyal to a fault. She is well liked and has some really great friends. Sure there is the occasional moment that she gets a burr in her saddle and her heads spins, but all in all, I can't complain. Much.
She, on the other hand, will tell you what a horrible person I am, and how I have always been mean to her. She'll tell you of all the mean things I did and said to her. She'll tell you how I used to put her in headlocks (for her own good) and that I made her eat dirt (because if you double dog dare someone it means they HAVE to do it). She will convienently forget the things she did and said to me. Like the time she called me fat and I called her stupid. She claimed names hurt her more than they hurt me (I think that just goes to prove my point)
But that's mud under the bridge.
I prefer to think of it as my duty as an older sibling to toughen her up for the mean, outside world. I think I have failed.
Here is an excerpt from our last phone conversation.
Her: Sometimes when I sit on the toliet I weigh my legs. They weigh like 11 pounds each. Do you think that's right?
Me: You know this is going in the blog right?
My younger sister is a good person. She is a great aunt to Murph, his brothers, and his cousins. She is loyal to a fault. She is well liked and has some really great friends. Sure there is the occasional moment that she gets a burr in her saddle and her heads spins, but all in all, I can't complain. Much.
She, on the other hand, will tell you what a horrible person I am, and how I have always been mean to her. She'll tell you of all the mean things I did and said to her. She'll tell you how I used to put her in headlocks (for her own good) and that I made her eat dirt (because if you double dog dare someone it means they HAVE to do it). She will convienently forget the things she did and said to me. Like the time she called me fat and I called her stupid. She claimed names hurt her more than they hurt me (I think that just goes to prove my point)
But that's mud under the bridge.
I prefer to think of it as my duty as an older sibling to toughen her up for the mean, outside world. I think I have failed.
Here is an excerpt from our last phone conversation.
Her: Sometimes when I sit on the toliet I weigh my legs. They weigh like 11 pounds each. Do you think that's right?
Me: You know this is going in the blog right?
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
A letter to Me
I normally swear to most people that I don't like country music. Or will pretend to not listen to it as much as I do. But lately it seems that those are the only stations playing music I'm not ashamed to let Murph listen to. I read a report yesterday that said that the average 15-18 year old listens to 2.4 hours of music a day, and in that time hears 84 references to drugs and alcohol. Yikes.
But once again, I digress.
My roundabout point is that yesterday I heard the song about a man writing a letter to his teenage self. I got thinking about what I would want to be able to tell a younger me if I could go back in time. I'm a bit like Doc. I'm afraid that the letter Marty hands me could ruin things, so in my usual way I would want it to be informative yet cryptic. So here goes.
Dear 17 year old me,
Right now life is so simple. I know right now you are worried about what he said, or she said, or what they think about you, but I promise you in a year you won't care. Infact, in a year you won't even think about 98% of those people anyway. Trust me.
Be nicer. Filter more. Sometimes you say things to be funny, but words can wound. Years down the road you will still regret little things that you say and do now.
Love those around you. And if you love them, tell them. Don't take those close to you for granted. One day you will stand in a cemetary regretting not picking up the phone more or visiting more.
Love yourself more. Respect yourself more. Others will learn to do both more if they see that you've learned it.
Stop cutting your bangs so short.
Learn to tweeze
Put down the hairspray!
Flannel is NOT flattering
College will be amazing.
Hide the phone when you start drinking.
You will love Europe. Both times.
He is NOT worth it.
Neither is he.
Nope not him either.
Getting warmer.
Life won't always go as you plan.
25 won't be as bad as you think.
26 and 27 might be worse.
28 is when your life will really start.
31 is when it will finally have meaning
Mom and Dad are right.
About almost everything.
But sometimes they aren't.
So trust that they raised you well enough to know the difference.
Because sometimes YOU will be right,
and they will have to trust that they raised you well enough to know the difference.
Technology will change your life.
You will have amazing friends, even if some of them you never get to see face to face.
When things are right, life will be simple. You just have to trust that there is a plan for you out there.
Be good. Have fun. And don't do anything I'm going to regret.
I normally swear to most people that I don't like country music. Or will pretend to not listen to it as much as I do. But lately it seems that those are the only stations playing music I'm not ashamed to let Murph listen to. I read a report yesterday that said that the average 15-18 year old listens to 2.4 hours of music a day, and in that time hears 84 references to drugs and alcohol. Yikes.
But once again, I digress.
My roundabout point is that yesterday I heard the song about a man writing a letter to his teenage self. I got thinking about what I would want to be able to tell a younger me if I could go back in time. I'm a bit like Doc. I'm afraid that the letter Marty hands me could ruin things, so in my usual way I would want it to be informative yet cryptic. So here goes.
Dear 17 year old me,
Right now life is so simple. I know right now you are worried about what he said, or she said, or what they think about you, but I promise you in a year you won't care. Infact, in a year you won't even think about 98% of those people anyway. Trust me.
Be nicer. Filter more. Sometimes you say things to be funny, but words can wound. Years down the road you will still regret little things that you say and do now.
Love those around you. And if you love them, tell them. Don't take those close to you for granted. One day you will stand in a cemetary regretting not picking up the phone more or visiting more.
Love yourself more. Respect yourself more. Others will learn to do both more if they see that you've learned it.
Stop cutting your bangs so short.
Learn to tweeze
Put down the hairspray!
Flannel is NOT flattering
College will be amazing.
Hide the phone when you start drinking.
You will love Europe. Both times.
He is NOT worth it.
Neither is he.
Nope not him either.
Getting warmer.
Life won't always go as you plan.
25 won't be as bad as you think.
26 and 27 might be worse.
28 is when your life will really start.
31 is when it will finally have meaning
Mom and Dad are right.
About almost everything.
But sometimes they aren't.
So trust that they raised you well enough to know the difference.
Because sometimes YOU will be right,
and they will have to trust that they raised you well enough to know the difference.
Technology will change your life.
You will have amazing friends, even if some of them you never get to see face to face.
When things are right, life will be simple. You just have to trust that there is a plan for you out there.
Be good. Have fun. And don't do anything I'm going to regret.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Cops again.....
"That's my sister man! I'm not gonna let NO man beat on her. Unless she's married to him!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Another sign that I'm aging quickly. In the past week I have
"That's my sister man! I'm not gonna let NO man beat on her. Unless she's married to him!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Another sign that I'm aging quickly. In the past week I have
- Gladly gone to bed at 8 pm (twice)
- Watched Jeopardy, Cops, and America's Most Wanted
- Cursed at a "stupid, reckeless teen-age driver"
- Held a Tupperware party (Online at least)
- Joined Weight Watchers.
Now If I can just find a jazzercise class or a Jane Fonda workout album, my transformation will ge complete.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Unfortunate Headline
I occasionally visit the website www.fark.com. It has a compilation of stories from around the globe. I hate that the poorly worded headline takes away from the seriousness of the story. But tell me if you can get past the headline on this one without a chuckle.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/csm/20080128/wl_csm/okidnap
I occasionally visit the website www.fark.com. It has a compilation of stories from around the globe. I hate that the poorly worded headline takes away from the seriousness of the story. But tell me if you can get past the headline on this one without a chuckle.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/csm/20080128/wl_csm/okidnap
Monday, January 28, 2008
Deep thoughts.... By Rob Ritchie
Driving to work earlier this week, Kid Rock (aka Rob Ritchie) was on my favorite morning show. I've been a fan of his since his mainstream debut. Because of course I too wanted to "Be a Coooow Booooy Baby" (I can still hear my young nephew singing along at top volume)
I enjoyed listening to him talk about several things, one of which was spending part of his summers in Traverse City, Michigan a place where I have spent considerable time. (There were several jokes about the "Cherry Festival" that takes place there each summer, and how it might have to be renamed if Kid were to attend). but I digress
My favorite part though was when talk turned to downloading of music. Apparently Kid's work is not available for download on sites such as iTunes. Part of the reason is that he likes for an album to stay together. Another part is because no body really knows how much money he has in a song, so how can they just decide to charge one price for it. Then he talked about illegal downloads. I admit that I was a fan of Napster back in the day, so I was interested to get his take on it.
He offered the very best reasoning against (illegal) downloading that I think I've ever heard. I won't be able to word it as well as he did, but I'll give it a try.
"I'm rich (says Kid), so what can I say about it. But you know who else is rich? Tommy Hilfiger. So if you need a new sweetshirt, don't buy it. Just take it. Also rich? Steve Jobs and Bill Gates. Don't buy your computer steal it!"
I loved it. I think I'm going to have to go and buy the new album.
Driving to work earlier this week, Kid Rock (aka Rob Ritchie) was on my favorite morning show. I've been a fan of his since his mainstream debut. Because of course I too wanted to "Be a Coooow Booooy Baby" (I can still hear my young nephew singing along at top volume)
I enjoyed listening to him talk about several things, one of which was spending part of his summers in Traverse City, Michigan a place where I have spent considerable time. (There were several jokes about the "Cherry Festival" that takes place there each summer, and how it might have to be renamed if Kid were to attend). but I digress
My favorite part though was when talk turned to downloading of music. Apparently Kid's work is not available for download on sites such as iTunes. Part of the reason is that he likes for an album to stay together. Another part is because no body really knows how much money he has in a song, so how can they just decide to charge one price for it. Then he talked about illegal downloads. I admit that I was a fan of Napster back in the day, so I was interested to get his take on it.
He offered the very best reasoning against (illegal) downloading that I think I've ever heard. I won't be able to word it as well as he did, but I'll give it a try.
"I'm rich (says Kid), so what can I say about it. But you know who else is rich? Tommy Hilfiger. So if you need a new sweetshirt, don't buy it. Just take it. Also rich? Steve Jobs and Bill Gates. Don't buy your computer steal it!"
I loved it. I think I'm going to have to go and buy the new album.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
You like me... you really like me..... (you is singular in this case)
My favorite blog is http://www.thirdworstpoetinthegalaxy.blogspot.com/
I will admit that often what Third Worst writes about is over my head, but I try to follow along. Plus Third finds humor in some of the same things I do. There is a Seinfeldian quality to Third's life observations.
So you can imagine the honor I felt when not only was my blog once linked to by Third Worst, but was recently awarded the coveted "Blog of Steel" award. (All right, so I don't know how coveted it is, how it works, or anything about it, but give me my glory!)
I just hope that I can be more dedicated to the "Blog of Steel" than I was to the Buns of Steel. Cause as we all know.... Baby got Back!
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Crack for Babies
Murph is a riot. Everyday his personality comes out a little more and we can't help but laugh at him. He's quite ornery, and I'm going to blame that on the Chief.
We've started giving him Gerber Puff snacks. I've had a friend describe them as "Baby Crack", and I have to agree. He sees the container and will start bouncing up and down waiting for us to give them to him. I've tried to explain to my mom that Murph is a goldfish and will eat as many as you give him, but she hasn't caught on yet and just keeps feeding him more. The dog loves it because the ones Murph drops on the floor he gets to eat. I swear there are times when I think Murph pushes some on the floor just so the dog will come closer.
The little monkey is up and crawling on all fours now, and getting faster everyday. Which means that we have to be faster to keep things picked up and out of his way. He has a new game that he thinks is the funniest thing ever. He will crawl around the couch out of our sight, then sit up and wait for us to come after him. Once we peer around the corner he will burst out laughing, then turn and dart off hoping that we chase him. His favorite target now is the dog's food and water bowl and he will be there before you know it.
Here is what you need to know. To a seven month old.. THIS
Looks a whole lot like the sweet little Baby Crack star shaped puffs. So the first time Murph saw the dog food bowl he about freaked! He thought he had scored! So now every time we put him down he makes a bee line to the dog bowl. So far, i think we've stopped him before he's actually gotten any into his mouth, but I have a feeling it is only a matter of time.
Surprisingly the dog isn't as happy about sharing his treats as Murph is about sharing his.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Circle City Cops...
Chief and I are watching Cops. I know, but I SWEAR there is nothing else on. It happens to be an episode from our capital city.
When describing the call the officer had just responded to, he says, "She just sat there and let him do what ever he wanted. I mean any kind of physical abusement"
"Abusement" I say, ever so proud of my fellow statesmen.
"Yeah," replied Chief "Abusement. It's like amusement, but better."
Like amusement but better.
Chief and I are watching Cops. I know, but I SWEAR there is nothing else on. It happens to be an episode from our capital city.
When describing the call the officer had just responded to, he says, "She just sat there and let him do what ever he wanted. I mean any kind of physical abusement"
"Abusement" I say, ever so proud of my fellow statesmen.
"Yeah," replied Chief "Abusement. It's like amusement, but better."
Like amusement but better.
An Update
It's been brought to my attention that I need to give you an update on a past post. So for those of you taking score, here you go.
Patient Student of Supply and Demand.....1
Selfish Wii Scalping Bastards...... Zero!
The Chief and I had stumbled onto a website called www.wiialerts.com. People mocked us for getting emails letting us know when stores got Wiis in stock. They mocked louder when told that once after getting a text message at 3 am, the Chief sprinted to the computer to try to get one.
But mock no more! Shortly before Christmas, dear Chiefy was at work when his cell phone vibrated with a new text. He was surprised to see that Amazon had Wii's in stock. He was hesitant. (We'd gotten our hopes up before you see), but when he hurried to the computer he was able to get logged in and infact PURCHASE A WII! And not for those over inflated prices, but for the retail price. He did pay $15 extra to have delivered the day after Christmas, but that was less than it would have cost us for sales tax or gasoline.
So now that we have the Wii I've developed a new obsession. I must tell you, I've heard the kiddies talking about Guitar Hero 3, but had never tried it out. But now that I have, it safe to say....
I Rock.
No seriously. I know this might shock you, but I rock out.
The Chief will even tell you how good I am. I'm the one who gets the high scores. I'm thinking about joining the summer festival tour. Or starting my own tour. I'll call it La La pa Awesome. It won't get in the way of my teaching job, but I can still live life on the road and party hard. Well as long as the show is over by 8 pm.
Now if only I can find some Sun-In and a can of Rave to get my hair just right.
It's been brought to my attention that I need to give you an update on a past post. So for those of you taking score, here you go.
Patient Student of Supply and Demand.....1
Selfish Wii Scalping Bastards...... Zero!
The Chief and I had stumbled onto a website called www.wiialerts.com. People mocked us for getting emails letting us know when stores got Wiis in stock. They mocked louder when told that once after getting a text message at 3 am, the Chief sprinted to the computer to try to get one.
But mock no more! Shortly before Christmas, dear Chiefy was at work when his cell phone vibrated with a new text. He was surprised to see that Amazon had Wii's in stock. He was hesitant. (We'd gotten our hopes up before you see), but when he hurried to the computer he was able to get logged in and infact PURCHASE A WII! And not for those over inflated prices, but for the retail price. He did pay $15 extra to have delivered the day after Christmas, but that was less than it would have cost us for sales tax or gasoline.
So now that we have the Wii I've developed a new obsession. I must tell you, I've heard the kiddies talking about Guitar Hero 3, but had never tried it out. But now that I have, it safe to say....
I Rock.
No seriously. I know this might shock you, but I rock out.
The Chief will even tell you how good I am. I'm the one who gets the high scores. I'm thinking about joining the summer festival tour. Or starting my own tour. I'll call it La La pa Awesome. It won't get in the way of my teaching job, but I can still live life on the road and party hard. Well as long as the show is over by 8 pm.
Now if only I can find some Sun-In and a can of Rave to get my hair just right.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
and the student becomes the teacher
The first time I ever got a flat tire was in my own drive way. Which is good I guess since I could just go right inside and call my Daddy (bio, not sugar). Of course on the outside that's all fine and good. Until you meet Daddy. He has his own style of teaching. He came out, said something to the affect of "Sucks to be you", then sat down to watch me change it. I was pissed! I cried, and got mad at him, my mom got mad at him. "That's not the way MY dad taught me!" she yelled. "Did you learn anything?" he smuggly answered? He never buckled. He said he did it that way so that if I was on the side of the road at 3 am, I would know what to do.
Damn it. His approach worked. Years later when I had a blow out on a major interstate, I calmly pulled over and changed my own tire.
My dad is one of the smartest guys I know. He can take apart and fix anything. He once fixed the power locks on my car with wood chips and super glue. Who thinks of that? And who gets that to work?
When I was in college a roommate of mine had some car trouble. From 100 miles away, she called Dad from the Auto Repair Store where they were suggesting the $300 worth of parts she would need to fix the problem. He got on the phone with them and said, "Let me get this right. You are going to charge her that much to go in and unscrew this piece, replace that piece, and screw back on the cover? I don't think so!" She left with her $20 repair.
I tell you all of this to give you some insight into his evolution to a man of the 21st century. A few more facts to keep in mind.
He is 61 years old and he has NEVER used a computer. This year he bought my mom (also a techno newbie, meaning she can email and play a mean hand of solitaire) a brand new photo quality printer/scanner/copy/fax/coffee maker for Christmas.
Over break, I installed the printer for him and held several small training sessions. We limited our focus to scanning, cropping, and printing an existing picture. He would rather NOT have to turn on the computer for anything.
He did pretty well, and only had to call me one time to come to his rescue. I was only a mile away at my cousin's house, so it was no problem. I went right over and we got things taken care of in no time.
Flash forward.
Last night at 9 pm my time (10 his) he calls me from over 200 miles away with a printer issue. Do you know how hard it is to try to talk someone through something like that? I am sadly NOT a member of the Geek squad, so my knowledge is limited. Then I had to deal with explaining some terminology. Think back to before you knew what "desktop, background, or double click" was. Look at the top right corner of your brower? How would you descibe those three little boxes? Min, Max, and Close right? Or would you say minus, box and times (as in multiplication) as my dad did? I give him credit. He is making the effort. Stepping outside of his comfort zone.
I was MUCH more kind than my dad was when teaching me about a tire. Then again, I'm not sure that at 3 am he is going to be able to scan, crop, and print a picture.
The first time I ever got a flat tire was in my own drive way. Which is good I guess since I could just go right inside and call my Daddy (bio, not sugar). Of course on the outside that's all fine and good. Until you meet Daddy. He has his own style of teaching. He came out, said something to the affect of "Sucks to be you", then sat down to watch me change it. I was pissed! I cried, and got mad at him, my mom got mad at him. "That's not the way MY dad taught me!" she yelled. "Did you learn anything?" he smuggly answered? He never buckled. He said he did it that way so that if I was on the side of the road at 3 am, I would know what to do.
Damn it. His approach worked. Years later when I had a blow out on a major interstate, I calmly pulled over and changed my own tire.
My dad is one of the smartest guys I know. He can take apart and fix anything. He once fixed the power locks on my car with wood chips and super glue. Who thinks of that? And who gets that to work?
When I was in college a roommate of mine had some car trouble. From 100 miles away, she called Dad from the Auto Repair Store where they were suggesting the $300 worth of parts she would need to fix the problem. He got on the phone with them and said, "Let me get this right. You are going to charge her that much to go in and unscrew this piece, replace that piece, and screw back on the cover? I don't think so!" She left with her $20 repair.
I tell you all of this to give you some insight into his evolution to a man of the 21st century. A few more facts to keep in mind.
He is 61 years old and he has NEVER used a computer. This year he bought my mom (also a techno newbie, meaning she can email and play a mean hand of solitaire) a brand new photo quality printer/scanner/copy/fax/coffee maker for Christmas.
Over break, I installed the printer for him and held several small training sessions. We limited our focus to scanning, cropping, and printing an existing picture. He would rather NOT have to turn on the computer for anything.
He did pretty well, and only had to call me one time to come to his rescue. I was only a mile away at my cousin's house, so it was no problem. I went right over and we got things taken care of in no time.
Flash forward.
Last night at 9 pm my time (10 his) he calls me from over 200 miles away with a printer issue. Do you know how hard it is to try to talk someone through something like that? I am sadly NOT a member of the Geek squad, so my knowledge is limited. Then I had to deal with explaining some terminology. Think back to before you knew what "desktop, background, or double click" was. Look at the top right corner of your brower? How would you descibe those three little boxes? Min, Max, and Close right? Or would you say minus, box and times (as in multiplication) as my dad did? I give him credit. He is making the effort. Stepping outside of his comfort zone.
I was MUCH more kind than my dad was when teaching me about a tire. Then again, I'm not sure that at 3 am he is going to be able to scan, crop, and print a picture.
Monday, January 07, 2008
Saturday night after I had gone to bed in a Tylenol Cold induced coma, my dear Chief came to me to tell me that a senior at my high school had been killed that day in a car accident. He wasn't a student of mine, and I didn't know him. But that didn't change how I reacted.
I felt like I had been punched in the chest.
Instantly I am taken back to the night my senior year in high school when the phone rang, my mom called my dad into talk, and then called my little sister and me in to tell us that a close friend had been in a serious car accident. He died two days later. I remember it so clearly because that was the exact moment that I became an adult.
Two short years later I was sitting in friends dorm room when we got that call that one of my oldest friends had been killed that morning in a car accident.
I've been through the same things that his classmates and friends are getting ready to go through. I wonder if a decade from now they will still have a t-shirt hanging in their closet that he left the weekend before he died. Or if his football number will still be ingrained in their mind. I wonder how many of the students in this building became adults this weekend.
I'm also affected in another way. Always before I was on the friend side of things. But now, as a parent to an amazing little boy, my heart is broken for his parents and family. I stayed longer than usual at the sitter's house this morning because Murph had woken and was smiling at me. How do you recover from the loss of a child? If I still can't get rid of a shirt from over 12 years ago, how would I function with that great of a loss? I don't think I would ever recover.
I wonder how many of the students in this building became adults this weekend. And I wonder how many of the adults stayed with their little ones a little longer this morning to sit and watch them smile.
I felt like I had been punched in the chest.
Instantly I am taken back to the night my senior year in high school when the phone rang, my mom called my dad into talk, and then called my little sister and me in to tell us that a close friend had been in a serious car accident. He died two days later. I remember it so clearly because that was the exact moment that I became an adult.
Two short years later I was sitting in friends dorm room when we got that call that one of my oldest friends had been killed that morning in a car accident.
I've been through the same things that his classmates and friends are getting ready to go through. I wonder if a decade from now they will still have a t-shirt hanging in their closet that he left the weekend before he died. Or if his football number will still be ingrained in their mind. I wonder how many of the students in this building became adults this weekend.
I'm also affected in another way. Always before I was on the friend side of things. But now, as a parent to an amazing little boy, my heart is broken for his parents and family. I stayed longer than usual at the sitter's house this morning because Murph had woken and was smiling at me. How do you recover from the loss of a child? If I still can't get rid of a shirt from over 12 years ago, how would I function with that great of a loss? I don't think I would ever recover.
I wonder how many of the students in this building became adults this weekend. And I wonder how many of the adults stayed with their little ones a little longer this morning to sit and watch them smile.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Fleas on my Dog
I'll probably be scarce for the next couple of weeks. Holiday festivites and all of that.
(I'll wait while you dry your eyes)
But before I go.... I wanted to wish you a happy and safe holiday season.
Or in the words of the Chief.... (sung to Feliz Navidad)..... I simply say
FLEAS ON MY DOG. FLEAS ON MY DOG.
I don't really know what else he would say here. I'm normally tuning him out at this point. But you get the idea!
Merry Christmas!
I'll probably be scarce for the next couple of weeks. Holiday festivites and all of that.
(I'll wait while you dry your eyes)
But before I go.... I wanted to wish you a happy and safe holiday season.
Or in the words of the Chief.... (sung to Feliz Navidad)..... I simply say
FLEAS ON MY DOG. FLEAS ON MY DOG.
I don't really know what else he would say here. I'm normally tuning him out at this point. But you get the idea!
Merry Christmas!
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
A letter to the Wii scalpers worldwide
Dear Selfish Bastards,
I'll be waiting. The day after Christmas when the demand drops off and you are left trying to get back your purchase price, instead of the over inflated amount you are trying to get on EBAY right now. I'll be waiting.
I OBVIOUSLY don't love my children or spouse enough to pay double or triple the retail price that some of those other "suckers" are willing to pay. They weren't THAT good this year.
I'll be waiting. And not in the freezing cold like you probably did. But in the comfort of my own home.
Signed,
A student of Supply and Demand
Dear Selfish Bastards,
I'll be waiting. The day after Christmas when the demand drops off and you are left trying to get back your purchase price, instead of the over inflated amount you are trying to get on EBAY right now. I'll be waiting.
I OBVIOUSLY don't love my children or spouse enough to pay double or triple the retail price that some of those other "suckers" are willing to pay. They weren't THAT good this year.
I'll be waiting. And not in the freezing cold like you probably did. But in the comfort of my own home.
Signed,
A student of Supply and Demand
Thursday, December 13, 2007
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