I think, therefore you’re awesome.

April 9, 2012 5 Comments

It’s simple, people are pretty awesome.

I was driving the other morning and passed a rather large woman jogging, and I thought, “You are awesome. You decided that you want to make a change.”

I was at the lunch with my kid and sat near a dad having a solo lunch with his two kids under 3, and I thought, “Wow, you’re an awesome dad.  Never mind the meltdown, you made your kids’ day.”

I was reading a really well written blog post, and I thought, “Seriously, you’re an awesome writer.  You captured a moment in time with such humor it makes me want to follow your next post.”

This entry just as easily could have been about the person who cut me off on the freeway, the dog owner that left the “present” in my yard, or the woman who scowled and complained about the meltdown mentioned above, but it’s not.

I am choosing to believe that the person who cut me off on the freeway was racing to the hospital to see a dying friend, the dog owner just forgot the bag and will pick up someone else’s crap as karmic payback, and the woman who scowled had a migraine and will feel horrible about her reaction later.

I am no Dalai Llama, particularly when I get too little sleep and the coffee has run out.  I can road rage, cut off, sneer and snarl with the best of them.  That subtle scratch of my nose while you pass is done with one finger.  And that casual one finger lingering on the steering wheel while you pass, yes that’s for you.

But today is Monday. The beginning of the week, the start of a new hell adventure, a chance to do it differently.

Here is my Monday pledge:

Today, I will not get annoyed when milk is spilled, jelly ends up under my feet from an errant piece of breakfast toast.  I will not stress about getting out the door on time, we will get there when we get there, and my hair WILL be brushed.

I will think your parents didn’t teach you manners when you cut me, and every other driver, off just to shave 2.5 minutes off your commute, but instead of hating you with unabashed rage, I will feel sorry for you. And you parents. And your ex (because clearly you are shunned, alone, and bitter.)

I will do my best to keep my subtle finger gestures out of my day, I think the kids are picking up on them anyway.

I will try really, really, really hard to remember that, in general, people are pretty awesome.

Happy Monday, All!

Keep it subtle.

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Get your pink slime OUT!

April 4, 2012 2 Comments

It’s an outrage!! How dare schools serve a product full of byproducts and chemicals and call it healthy for our children.

“It consists of lean beef carcass trimmings, which have been separated from fat and treated with ammonium hydroxide to kill harmful bacteria such as E. coli O157 and salmonella, before being ground, compressed into blocks and quick-frozen.”

via Vitals – ‘Pink slime’ in your meat? Labels to tell you, USDA says.

What’s next?? Amonium hydroxide in:

  • Cheese on my kid’s pizza?
  • Vegetables served on the line?
  • Pudding dessert?
  • Chocolate milk?

What’s that you say? It’s already most likely there??? And it’s probably in the food I give at home???

Ultimately, I agree, it’s not great to have chemicals in our food.  I find it interesting, however, that schools have served every flavor of milk, french fries, and gelatin based desserts (horse hooves, people!), and there has been none of the outrage.  Personally, I never ate the “beef” at school. It was disgusting.  I drank way more flavored milk and soda, and snarfed french fries, leaving the patty on my plate.

I understand that part of the outrage is due to the fact that “pink slime” was not labeled as being anything other than beef.  Transparency would have helped this industry avoid this current spate of bad, no HORRID, press, but that lesson is now a hindsight 20/20 moment.

The industry of “pink slime” is pretty well decimated it seems, but I am guessing your school will serve a version of a chicken nugget next week that would make Colonel Sanders cringe, washed down with soda that cleans the acid off a battery, and finished with a huge glob of dessert that may or may not be entirely created from chemicals that you can’t pronounce.

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Who are you again?

April 3, 2012 3 Comments

I am horrible at remembering names. If there were a competition, I would lose by calling the host Mike instead of Ryan Seacrest.

I avoid using names at any cost, even when I am fairly certain that I know it for sure.

Case in point: I was out front chatting with my neighbors when I attempted to introduce them.

“Dan, have you met Christian from across the street?”

“Matt, but nice to meet you Dan.”

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, your name is Matt.” (??? I could have sworn his name was Christian.  But wait – he is the kid that chose public school over a private Christian academy.  How did that information get so crossed??)

I have tried every trick in the book. Clever rhymes (Sarah, Sarah, dressed in… Farah?), repeating names immediately (Nice to meet you Farah – I mean Sarah!), and using their names at least 3 times in conversation (Farah, how did you keep that red bathing suit from rising up in the back?). Nothing works.

I recognize the signs of a name memorizer when I meet people, and I try to pop quiz them later. Just for fun.

I have finally come up with a foolproof strategy for greeting people who may, or may not be, someone I have met before.

I start with a large, wow-it’s-really-you, you-are-my-best-friend smile, followed by a cleverly extenuated, “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!”

I spend the next few minutes figuring out if I have, in fact, met you before, and if so, where from.

“How are things in your world?”

“What exciting things have you been up to?”

If I am lucky and actually recognize your face, and even where I know you from, I may find an excuse to get your email address since most people use some version of their name.  Although, I had one person reply, “Oh, it’s just my name @ gmail.” Assumptive little narcissist.

I just keep smiling and offering inane responses to your pointed questions, because clearly you have figured out that I don’t have a clue what your name is.  I would rather have you believe that I am idiot of vast proportions, than know for sure that I have no idea who you are.

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Oh, I’m a Preppin!

March 31, 2012 4 Comments

Doomsday people! It’s nearly here!!

I was awakened from my sound sleep early this morning with the shakes and rolls that can only be attributed to a major earthquake, with an epicenter nearby.  My mind instantly raced to destruction, and naturally, Armageddon.

How much water do I have? Did we remember to fill the Britta last night? Probably not. Why does my husband NEVER fill the Brittta?? Oh – but we have more water in the dog bowls – if my husband remembered to fill those. And I can leave out various containers to collect rainwater – thankfully I watched Lost at Sea once.  That is IF my husband did the dishes.

Water is going to be problem – eek!

I surely have enough food, though. Wait, I forgot to go grocery shopping yesterday.  Well, not really forgot, I just couldn’t bear the thought of shopping cart derby at Trader Joes.  But my shelf is stocked – at least 3 baby food crushers, some dry pasta (no marinara, ugh), black beans from that time I was going to make chili, peanut butter, green icing, sprinkles, and maybe even some granola bars.  Why do I only have a single shelf that I call pantry??

Food is going to be a problem – argh!

We have a roof over our heads. Unless this earthquake shatters our support beams and brings the roof down over us.  But we have a tent, somewhere. I think.

Shelter is going to be a problem – ach!

At least we have protection. 2 dogs are better than any gun.  Although one is 12-years-old and can barely walk.  The “younger” 9-year-old is morbidly obese and is more likely to eat us than protect us if things really go down.

Protection is going to be a problem – crap!

The rumble of aftershocks hits again, the bed is shaking and I’m about to cry.

I’m not ready for Armageddon! I’ve only seen one episode Doomsday Preppers!!!

Just as I am about to jump screaming from the bed, the husband jolts with a snort and rolls over. The rumbling ends. All is quiet.  Snoring, seriously?? His SNORING is what woke me up??

I should wake him up and have him fill the Britta.

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Retirement… Ewww! Isn’t that what old people do?

March 30, 2012 4 Comments

Photograph of Shuffleboard at the Century Vill...

Old people shuffling (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

If you are lucky, you come out of childhood with only minor PTSD resulting from visits to Boca Raton and playing shuffleboard with the elderly set.  Others suffer more traumatic nursing homes, or “Your grammy is moving in!”  Regardless, most of us will deny our imminent mortality until faced with the realization that one day we will be old.

We coast through our twenties, telling ourselves that the 401k plan is just another way the government tries to keep us from having the time of our lives.  After rent, utilities and cell phone bills, the extra cash goes to student loans and social services (aka beer, taco bell and cover charges.) We bury our PTSD, in denial that age is coming for us.  In our weakest moments, turning 26 or 29, we still tell ourselves that we have plenty of time before THAT happens, and social security will surely be enough. (Our parents are just gluttonous, spoiled after-products of being raised by Depression parents, wanting more than they need. All we will need is love.)

Our thirties bring kids, over-priced preschools, babysitting prices that feel like extortion.  Not to mention diapers, formula, soccer camp, ballet shoes, tennis rackets, trips to Disneyland, bikes, helmets, elbow pads and fingerless gloves.  We also discover that 401k is not a number, but a lifeline meant to pull us out of whatever job we are enduring, and a 529 savings plan is not just another ruse to suck us dry, but the promise that one day these expensive kids may actually move out.  Anger at the 20-something version of ourselves quickly gives way to panic.

That is the moment we stop being young.

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Ghetto Birds Nest in My Hood.

March 27, 2012 Leave a comment

Ghetto birds flying.

Plumes of twinkling red and blue.

Circling.

Hunting Rats.

I see you.

Police helicopter

Not-so-elusive Ghetto Bird (Photo credit: Ivan Pik)

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The REAL Hunger Games Review

March 26, 2012 2 Comments

It was a big weekend for the Hunger Games.  Many of you wondering, how was it??

The story opens with me gorging on pizza Friday night, washed down with a glass of wine. OK – it was two glasses. (Why did I have to post that witty comment on Facebook about the second glass? Grr.)  It fell just short of the drama and excitement I had anticipated, but I recognize now that it was just setting the stage.

I awoke Saturday morning to the blissful silence of an empty house. The two characters, Crazy Pants and Diabolical had successfully outwitted the generous and kind Pops, and were happily traveling the aisles of Target.  They had promised him all sorts of laughter and delight, but Pops soon realized he was entering the Chamber of Doom strapped to a shopping cart.

Delighted with the turn of events that morning, I resolved to make good on my promise to Master Thigh that I would no longer lavish her with gifts of decadence.  Unfortunately, her trusted advisor and resident evil conniver, Sir Stomach, had his plans for me.

Innocently stirring my coffee – with low-fat milk and Splenda – Sir Stomach slowly sidled up inside me and casually mentions that we have breakfast burritos in the freezer. “There’s only one left,” he pleaded. Of course there is only one left, I ate the other one not two days ago. It was then I had the sudden and shocking realization.

The Hunger Games had already started.

How had I missed the signs? The pizza gorging Opening Ceremony, the quiet of the morning…

I quickly jumped into strategy mode, wolfing down the last burrito. (I wouldn’t want that temptation around now that the games have started!). I looked ahead at the coming afternoon and made the snap decision to get as far away from the Baiting Ice Box, and bringing Crazy Pants and Diabolical along for safety.

Once I secured my wards and arrived at the zoo, I breathed a sigh of relief. This would be a safe haven for a short while, allowing me to continue my training (stroller pushing and chasing) that would help later in the round.  My security was short lived as I heard the small, whining voice erupt in my left ear.

“Mom, I am hungry.”

Ach! Sir Stomach had turned Crazy Pants, and she was now working against me. I took a deep breath, kept my cool. I didn’t want to let on that I was on to her. We strolled to the nearest “Café” and I stoically ordered a kids meal. Just one. Crazy Pants and Diabolical could share. They would not defeat me!

As we left the café, I congratulated myself on only eating half the quesadilla, all the fries, and SKIPPING the soda.  In hindsight, I can see the games were wearing on me.

The biggest challenge was yet to come, and I was ready.  The Street Food Fair loomed in the darkness that evening.  In preparation, I had foregone all food and drink, and was readying my responses to vendor cat calls.

I found my fellow competitors turned revelers; Skinny Pants, Gorger, and Just One, and we began the challenge.  First stop, single glass of wine. Second stop, pass on the cupcake (yes! Thankfully it had coconut on it, gross). Third stop, free wine? Just One said it was OK.  With only one more stop to go, I thought I had this competition in the bag.

Two bottles of wine, 4 appetizers, 1 entrée, and a promise to join a sky-diving trip later, I went home. I felt defeated, but optimistic. (I did have a lot wine, everything looked good.)

I was abruptly awoken on Sunday morning by Diabolical’s screams. Sir Stomach had gotten to him too. I knew the screams would awake Crazy Pants and I had little time. I was losing my allies faster than I was gaining weight.  But what they didn’t know was that I had a secret defense this time, the Hungover Medallion.

The Medallion protected me for some time, but it was not to last.  It wore off during the vulnerable time of the rains, and I found myself stuck. I was in the home zone, with limited supplies.  I panicked, looking for help, and turned to Pops for support. Previously, Pops had proven to be a very good cook with limited supplies and a strong contender for Healthiest Player in the Games.  He was my best defense.

“Let’s order pizza and wings, delivery,” he offered. The dreadful Sir Stomach had taken another.  My defenses severely weakened, I let go. The Games had won. I was done.

As if sensing a disturbance in the Universe, Princess Pilates sent a text message out:

“Would you like to come in early tomorrow?”

Yes. Yes I would.

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You need my Facebook login information? No Problem!

March 24, 2012 Leave a comment

If you are interested in obtaining my Facebook login and password as a condition of my employment, here is a small list of items that I would like to see in return:

Address Book – digital or hardcopy will be fine. I would also like to see how many friends you have, and who they are.

Email Login & Password– for every account. I am particularly interested in the photos and messages being shared with you.  I hope I enjoy your photos from your family vacation and bachelor weekend, as well as the witty banter between you and your friends, as much as you enjoy mine.

2551

Fun Night!

Photo Albums – I understand that many of your earlier photos, spring break and so on, may have been pre-digital age.  This will allow me to see your “timeline”, just as you will enjoy mine.

High School Yearbook – I have very funny, inappropriate friends that like to joke with me on a regular basis on my Facebook wall.  I am sure you have them too…

List of Exes – I know that you will enjoy reviewing my past relationship statuses, as well as all the silly things my friends and I said during and post break-up. I think this will be really important in our future working relationship.

I understand this may seem like an invasion of your privacy, but since you are reviewing my “social” networking information, I hope you are willing to share more than just your professional persona as well.

Ultimately, I just want to make sure that you, and your company, are a good fit for me.

I am sure you understand.

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Do I have to be a believer?

January 12, 2012 4 Comments

I honestly just don’t have a lot of time to ponder the question of god.  I am not for, or against, any religion, and have a firm belief in live and let live.  I went to a Catholic university, send my kid to a Jewish preschool – I am not here to judge, just to learn.

And speaking of learn… my point of this blog.

Intelligent Design

Intelligent design is the newest name for creationism and has been excluded from public school teaching since the religious theory was found not to meet the tenets of science as scientists use the term.  In other words, not proven scientifically. Not my words, that was the conclusion of the U.S. Federal Court ruling in Kitzmiller vs. Dover Area School District in 2005.

Intelligent design, not a new topic, why bring it up now?

“Researchers found that only 28 percent of biology teachers consistently follow the recommendations of the National Research Council to describe straightforwardly the evidence for evolution and explain the ways in which it is a unifying theme in all of biology. At the other extreme, 13 percent explicitly advocate creationism, and spend at least an hour of class time presenting it in a positive light.

That leaves what the authors call “the cautious 60 percent,” who avoid controversy by endorsing neither evolution nor its unscientific alternatives. In various ways, they compromise.”

via On Evolution, Biology Teachers Stray From Lesson Plan – NYTimes.com.

I feel like this report should have gotten a little more press!

I find it interesting that this report came out and it fell on deaf ears.  Regardless of your belief in, or disbelief in, intelligent design, it should have raised alarm bells. This report is telling me that over 70% of biology teachers do not teach evolution as science, and bring in theory, such as Intelligent Design, as an alternative.

Since this can be a very polarizing topic, let me propose another theory that could be taught in sciences class: The Paleolithic Diet. It basically says that we are genetically adapted to the diet of our Paleolithic ancestors, and eating the way of our ancestors is optimal for health.

While there are many supporters of this theory, I’m not sure I want my teenager to start eating only grass-fed meat and  vegetables, and excluding all grains, dairy, and beans based on a theory his science teacher told him about nutrition and the human body.

I don’t think I’ll get a lot of resistance when I say that Paleolithic Diet Theory should not be part of a public school biology class curriculum.  And if a teacher was found to be including it, I would have to think there would be a reprimand, warning, or even a termination.

Many people will have single biology class in their entire lifetime.  Everything they learn about science, they will learn in 10th grade.  Based on this report, your children in public school have a high likelihood of learning about evolution as only a theory and encountering alternate theories, predominantly Intelligent Design, as viable alternatives.

Is this OK?

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Why Libras and Politics Don’t Mix

January 5, 2012 2 Comments

Libra Traits

Diplomatic and urbane, Romantic and charming, Easygoing and sociable, Idealistic and peaceable

On the dark side….

Indecisive and changeable, Gullible and easily influenced, Flirtatious and self-indulgent

via Libra – All about Libra!.

I had the pleasure of hosting my in-laws over Thanksgiving, and talk often turns to politics with my “progressive” father-in-law – in quotes as I am not even sure how he would describe his political stance.

We spoke about Occupy Wall Street, the welfare system, and merits (or demerits) of our current president.  Let’s just say there was a fair amount of googling going on.  Searching for numbers, percentages and actual values.  I think my father-in-law was one part amused, two parts horrified at some of my off-the-cuff, unsubstantiated opinions.  My husband was all parts horrified, I imagine.

I’m not exactly sure where my opinions come from, and I just as easily and inarticulately argue both sides, depending on where the conversation started.  I am plagued with the brain that always tries to see the other side.  If you say black, I wonder what white thinks about that. You say left, and I try out a hard right, just to round out the map.  I’m cursed to travel in circles.

I am the first to say that “politics aren’t my thing”.  But then who’s is it?  Who are the people that vote in every election (and not just the presidential)? Who follows the actions of our congress and how our representatives vote for and against bills and measures that affect us?  Who is taking on the tomes of economic theory to better understand how things could and should be done?

We are entering into an important year – the job of “leader of the free world” hangs in the balance.  How are you and I going to determine who the best person for the job is?  I’m serious.  I really want to know how you decide where to cast your vote.

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