Employee Notice Please POST
Important Notice; to All Employees in Complying with the New Liberal
President Campaign Policy
As of November 5, 2008, if Obama is officially elected into office, our
company will instill a few new policies which are in keeping with his new,
inspiring issues of change and fairness:
1.] All salespeople will be pooling their sales and bonuses into a common
pool that will be divided equally between all of you. This will serve to
give those of you who are underachieving a fair shake.
2.] All low level workers will be pooling their wages, including overtime,
into a common pool, dividing it equally amongst yourselves. This will help
those who are too busy for overtime to reap the rewards from those who have
more spare time and can work extra hours.
3.] All top management will now be referred to as the government. We will
not participate in this experience because the law doesn 't app ly to us.
4.] The government will give eloquent speeches to all employees every week,
encouraging its workers to continue to work hard for the good of all.
5.] The employees will be thrilled with these new policies because it's good
to spread the wealth. Those of you who have underachieved will finally get
an opportunity; those of you who have worked hard and had success will feel
more patriotic.
6.] The last few people who were hired should clean out their desks. Don't
feel bad, though, because President Obama will give you free healthcare,
free handouts, free oil for heating your home, free food stamps, and he'll
let you stay in your home for as long as you want even if you can't pay your
mortgage. If you appeal directly to our Democratic Congress, you might even
get a free flat screen TV and a coupon for free haircuts (shouldn't all
Americans be entitled to nice looking hair?) !!!
If for any reason you are not happy with the new employment policies, you
may want to rethink your vote on November 4th.
Thank You,
What did I do before this?
Friday, October 31, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Invisible Mom
*I get the following email from time to time, but it never really touched me as much as it did today.*
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store.
Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' Obviously, not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.
I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?
Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated sum a cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen
again. She's going; she's going; she is gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England . Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe .
I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:
No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.
These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place.
It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life.
It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.
The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'you're going to love it there.'
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right.
And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Great Job, MOM!
Brendan is going through a "Momma" phase, and he kicked it into high gear today. I took him to weekly playgroup this morning and practically wore him as an extra pant leg the entire time. He was stuck to my side for 2.5 hours. Well actually, that's a lie. I did manage to make a potty run without him, but even then, I could hear his voice echo down the hallway..."Momma? Momma? MOMMA!"
We came home, I put a video on, and ordered him to sit on the couch for approximately 30 minutes so that I could unwind from the playgroup "Momma!" drama. Why is he suddenly like this? It used to be that I could set him on the floor and let him loose while I sat, sipped coffee, and gossiped. Humph! It was all I could do today just to drink my coffee without batting his hand away while snapping "No! HOT! Mommy's juice! MOMMY'S JUICE I SAY!"
So as I said, I was beyond frustrated until I sat down and read this email. It hit me like a slap across the face. One day, not so many years from now, I'll wish he was kneeling at my feet with his arms stretched up, waiting for me to hold him. I'll wish he was the happiest kid alive just to have my undivided attention for 15 minutes. I'll wish we were hanging out in the family room, playing with all of his "caws" until bedtime. I'll wish his heart was breaking as I disappear for a quick potty break.
One day, I'll wish for all of this. I'll wish that I wasn't so invisible.
Bring on some more of this "Momma!" phase.
I get the point.
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store.
Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' Obviously, not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.
I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?
Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated sum a cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen
again. She's going; she's going; she is gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England . Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe .
I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:
No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.
These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place.
It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life.
It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.
The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'you're going to love it there.'
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right.
And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Great Job, MOM!
Brendan is going through a "Momma" phase, and he kicked it into high gear today. I took him to weekly playgroup this morning and practically wore him as an extra pant leg the entire time. He was stuck to my side for 2.5 hours. Well actually, that's a lie. I did manage to make a potty run without him, but even then, I could hear his voice echo down the hallway..."Momma? Momma? MOMMA!"
We came home, I put a video on, and ordered him to sit on the couch for approximately 30 minutes so that I could unwind from the playgroup "Momma!" drama. Why is he suddenly like this? It used to be that I could set him on the floor and let him loose while I sat, sipped coffee, and gossiped. Humph! It was all I could do today just to drink my coffee without batting his hand away while snapping "No! HOT! Mommy's juice! MOMMY'S JUICE I SAY!"
So as I said, I was beyond frustrated until I sat down and read this email. It hit me like a slap across the face. One day, not so many years from now, I'll wish he was kneeling at my feet with his arms stretched up, waiting for me to hold him. I'll wish he was the happiest kid alive just to have my undivided attention for 15 minutes. I'll wish we were hanging out in the family room, playing with all of his "caws" until bedtime. I'll wish his heart was breaking as I disappear for a quick potty break.
One day, I'll wish for all of this. I'll wish that I wasn't so invisible.
Bring on some more of this "Momma!" phase.
I get the point.
Monday, October 27, 2008
It Never Freakin' Ends.
Fellow blogger Tracey inspired me to rant this morning, she's having a rough day. I'm hoping it will make me feel better. (I hope she's feeling better now too!)
Why do I hate Mondays? Why do they always totally suck, leaving me to absolutely dread the rest of the week? Every Monday just sucks! I don't know why, nothing explains it, but I am always in the absolute worst mood on Mondays.
Our lovely computer here has been the victim of a brutal attack by spyware. Damn that spyware! Damn it all to hell! It's still working, obviously- since I'm blogging at the moment, but what you don't see is me fighting numerous pop-ups and swearing at all the alerts that keep hogging the screen. I KNOW IT'S INFECTED A-HOLES. ONE ALERT IS ALL I NEED THANK YOU VERY MUCH. NOW LET ME GET ON WITH MY F--KING BLOGGING. o-KAY???
Brendan is STILL SICK which normally wouldn't be a big deal, but considering he's now in a My Gym class, I'm pissed since there is a gigantic friendly reminder bannered across the place that reads "NO SICK KIDS IN THE GYM. THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION." So if he has this runny nose and cough come Thursday, you can bet I'll be scheduling a make-up class. What a pain in the ass. And why am I the only one that follows those rules anyway?? Why do I seem to be the only considerate one who keeps her damn kid home when he's sick? Why is it always okay for other moms to chase their kids around with tissues at these places, but I'm too scared to break the rules? Does that make me a loser who doesn't take enough risks in life? Should I be more loosey goosey? Should I be more of a rebel and just show up with a sick child, just to see what they say? I fear I'll be reprimanded in front of the whole group and be sent home with my tail between my legs, while the other moms watch and laugh and use their sleeves to wipe their rugrats disgusting nose. Bottom line, if he's still sick come Thursday, we'll be sitting at home, bored out of our minds, because I'm a loser.
I have to see the dentist tomorrow. That's NEVER fun. One of my front teeth that recently had a root canal is bothering me. It doesn't hurt a lot just yet, but I fear it's headed in that direction. The really bad news is that it shouldn't hurt at all, considering a root canal was done, right? Right. I really wish my parents had been more strict with us brushing our teeth while growing up. Or if they were strict, then I was obviously very sneaky because my teeth are horrible. I am always so jealous of people with perfect teeth. If there is ONE THING our kids WILL do EVERY DAY in this house, it is BRUSH THEIR FREAKIN' TEETH. NO EXCUSES. It's just not worth it to hit your 30's and start to wonder if dentures would be all that bad.
I need to find a place to store all of B's sippy cups. Right now, they're in a drawer that he has access to, 24/7. And where does he like to play, 24/7? In that damn drawer. If I walk into the kitchen one more time and see 25 cups and 25 lids all over the damn place, I just might lose it. So tonight after the little devil goes to bed, those cups are relocating to a new home called "the upper cabinets." I'll show him. I'd post a picture of the sty he creates in my kitchen but since the computer has been sleeping around and has a filthy virus, I can't download any photos.
Ugh. All this whining has me wanting to burn some energy. Think I'll go rake some leaves while the monster is resting. Knowing my luck, I'll attract deer ticks and get lyme disease.
*update- B just woke up from a ONE HOUR NAP. The rest of the day should be interesting! Bring on the temper tantrums, the whining, the biting, the screaming, the throwing food, the spilling juice, the flying coasters, the messy kitchen....."
Why do I hate Mondays? Why do they always totally suck, leaving me to absolutely dread the rest of the week? Every Monday just sucks! I don't know why, nothing explains it, but I am always in the absolute worst mood on Mondays.
Our lovely computer here has been the victim of a brutal attack by spyware. Damn that spyware! Damn it all to hell! It's still working, obviously- since I'm blogging at the moment, but what you don't see is me fighting numerous pop-ups and swearing at all the alerts that keep hogging the screen. I KNOW IT'S INFECTED A-HOLES. ONE ALERT IS ALL I NEED THANK YOU VERY MUCH. NOW LET ME GET ON WITH MY F--KING BLOGGING. o-KAY???
Brendan is STILL SICK which normally wouldn't be a big deal, but considering he's now in a My Gym class, I'm pissed since there is a gigantic friendly reminder bannered across the place that reads "NO SICK KIDS IN THE GYM. THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION." So if he has this runny nose and cough come Thursday, you can bet I'll be scheduling a make-up class. What a pain in the ass. And why am I the only one that follows those rules anyway?? Why do I seem to be the only considerate one who keeps her damn kid home when he's sick? Why is it always okay for other moms to chase their kids around with tissues at these places, but I'm too scared to break the rules? Does that make me a loser who doesn't take enough risks in life? Should I be more loosey goosey? Should I be more of a rebel and just show up with a sick child, just to see what they say? I fear I'll be reprimanded in front of the whole group and be sent home with my tail between my legs, while the other moms watch and laugh and use their sleeves to wipe their rugrats disgusting nose. Bottom line, if he's still sick come Thursday, we'll be sitting at home, bored out of our minds, because I'm a loser.
I have to see the dentist tomorrow. That's NEVER fun. One of my front teeth that recently had a root canal is bothering me. It doesn't hurt a lot just yet, but I fear it's headed in that direction. The really bad news is that it shouldn't hurt at all, considering a root canal was done, right? Right. I really wish my parents had been more strict with us brushing our teeth while growing up. Or if they were strict, then I was obviously very sneaky because my teeth are horrible. I am always so jealous of people with perfect teeth. If there is ONE THING our kids WILL do EVERY DAY in this house, it is BRUSH THEIR FREAKIN' TEETH. NO EXCUSES. It's just not worth it to hit your 30's and start to wonder if dentures would be all that bad.
I need to find a place to store all of B's sippy cups. Right now, they're in a drawer that he has access to, 24/7. And where does he like to play, 24/7? In that damn drawer. If I walk into the kitchen one more time and see 25 cups and 25 lids all over the damn place, I just might lose it. So tonight after the little devil goes to bed, those cups are relocating to a new home called "the upper cabinets." I'll show him. I'd post a picture of the sty he creates in my kitchen but since the computer has been sleeping around and has a filthy virus, I can't download any photos.
Ugh. All this whining has me wanting to burn some energy. Think I'll go rake some leaves while the monster is resting. Knowing my luck, I'll attract deer ticks and get lyme disease.
*update- B just woke up from a ONE HOUR NAP. The rest of the day should be interesting! Bring on the temper tantrums, the whining, the biting, the screaming, the throwing food, the spilling juice, the flying coasters, the messy kitchen....."
Monday, October 20, 2008
"My Friends are my Estate"
...a quote by Emily Dickinson.
Woodstock, Vermont
Annual Girls Trip 2008
I'm already counting the days till the next trip!
Woodstock, Vermont
Annual Girls Trip 2008
I'm already counting the days till the next trip!
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Perspective...and Rememberance
I'm not sure if many of you know this, as I just became aware myself, that today is National Day of Remembrance for pregnancy and infant loss. This includes all babies who have died because of miscarriage, stillbirth, SIDS, or any other infant death.
I think I've mentioned this before, but we suffered from a miscarriage a couple of years ago. It was devastating to say the absolute least. I can't imagine a worse pain than losing a child, even one I had never met. It plays with ones emotions like no other and left a scar on my soul that I'll forever be wary of, especially when becoming pregnant again.
I know there are days when being a Mom makes me sigh continuously out of frustration and sends me to bed with pounding headaches, asking myself "How will I get through tomorrow?" But that doesn't mean I'm not truly grateful he is here. That doesn't mean that I'd give him back for a split second just to get some peace and quiet. I'm grateful for the miscarriage we had 2 years ago, and ever so grateful that we were blessed with another chance to become parents. I think I finally realized that God meant to place that baby with someone else. And we in turn, got this guy.
He's the beat of our hearts.
I know that some people try and try to conceive, to no avail. Some people suffer from multiple miscarriages. Some people welcome their children into the world, only to lose them to SIDS, illness, or other circumstances. I should sigh out of frustration a little less, and smile more. I should welcome the headaches at the end of the day, and be just be proud that I survived the chaos. I should be grateful that someone so precious has come in and turned our lives upside down and inside out, because I know that many, many people would kill to feel as exhausted as I do this very second. It's all for such a wonderful cause.
If you or someone you know has experienced such a loss, I will say a prayer for you. I can only speak for myself, but there will always be a hole in my heart that even though it cannot be filled, recognition and caring words from a fellow blogger made it that much easier to smile tonight. Thank you so much for making me aware of what this day, October 15th, means to so many people.
Lynsey
I think I've mentioned this before, but we suffered from a miscarriage a couple of years ago. It was devastating to say the absolute least. I can't imagine a worse pain than losing a child, even one I had never met. It plays with ones emotions like no other and left a scar on my soul that I'll forever be wary of, especially when becoming pregnant again.
I know there are days when being a Mom makes me sigh continuously out of frustration and sends me to bed with pounding headaches, asking myself "How will I get through tomorrow?" But that doesn't mean I'm not truly grateful he is here. That doesn't mean that I'd give him back for a split second just to get some peace and quiet. I'm grateful for the miscarriage we had 2 years ago, and ever so grateful that we were blessed with another chance to become parents. I think I finally realized that God meant to place that baby with someone else. And we in turn, got this guy.
He's the beat of our hearts.
I know that some people try and try to conceive, to no avail. Some people suffer from multiple miscarriages. Some people welcome their children into the world, only to lose them to SIDS, illness, or other circumstances. I should sigh out of frustration a little less, and smile more. I should welcome the headaches at the end of the day, and be just be proud that I survived the chaos. I should be grateful that someone so precious has come in and turned our lives upside down and inside out, because I know that many, many people would kill to feel as exhausted as I do this very second. It's all for such a wonderful cause.
If you or someone you know has experienced such a loss, I will say a prayer for you. I can only speak for myself, but there will always be a hole in my heart that even though it cannot be filled, recognition and caring words from a fellow blogger made it that much easier to smile tonight. Thank you so much for making me aware of what this day, October 15th, means to so many people.
Lynsey
Hot Date Night
Brendan had Ariana over for dinner lastnight. It was quite special. They chewed on some cars, had some dinner, exchanged binky's a dozen times, and then settled on the couch for a video. Young Love. *sigh*
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
People Suck.
I know that sounds terrible, but I'm finding it to be true.
Example #1.
I'm in Homegoods last week, browsing the cookbook section. A lady appears to my right and is also browsing. Soon, she's directly in front of me, blocking my view of the cookbooks. Hmm. Okay, maybe she just didn't notice me. I'll move. I walk a little further down the aisle, continue browsing. Lady appears again, directly in front of me. Again, blocking my view. WTF? I seriously wanted to smack her in the back of the head and say "Hello!! Anybody home!!" Am I the only expert on cookbook aisle etiquette around here?
Example #2.
Church parking lot. Sunday morning. I'm carrying Brendan, giving him kisses, enjoying the glorious day while walking into church. VVRRROOOOOOOMM. Ugly beat-up minivan comes flying past us, nearly taking us out, just to reach the closest parking spot. (which this lady could've used the extra walk, trust me.) Was it worth it to damn near kill me and my precious child? I'm assuming you don't have any children because you're so hideous-looking, so you have no sympathy for me and mine?? That just ain't my problem!
Example #3.
My Gym Class today. I love My Gym, and so does Brendan so far. The kids are adorable. The mothers are mostly, well, rude as hell.
Me: "Oh your daughter is so cute."
Mean Mom: "Thank you."
Me: "How old is she?"
Mean Mom: "18 months."
Me: "What's her name?"
Mean Mom: "Olivia." *walks off to find someone better to talk to.*
Me: "Oh I absolutely DESPISE the name Olivia. EVERYONE and their MOTHER picks that name these days. And every child that I meet with that SAME NAME turns out to be the biggest BRAT on the planet! Good luck with her!"
Okay, I didn't say that. But how about some response for my child? Do you know how to converse with people who don't have giant sticks up their asses? Did you miss the social skills train or what?? What's the problem here?
I know, I know. I need to learn to relax. But man, people really rub me the wrong way sometimes.
Example #1.
I'm in Homegoods last week, browsing the cookbook section. A lady appears to my right and is also browsing. Soon, she's directly in front of me, blocking my view of the cookbooks. Hmm. Okay, maybe she just didn't notice me. I'll move. I walk a little further down the aisle, continue browsing. Lady appears again, directly in front of me. Again, blocking my view. WTF? I seriously wanted to smack her in the back of the head and say "Hello!! Anybody home!!" Am I the only expert on cookbook aisle etiquette around here?
Example #2.
Church parking lot. Sunday morning. I'm carrying Brendan, giving him kisses, enjoying the glorious day while walking into church. VVRRROOOOOOOMM. Ugly beat-up minivan comes flying past us, nearly taking us out, just to reach the closest parking spot. (which this lady could've used the extra walk, trust me.) Was it worth it to damn near kill me and my precious child? I'm assuming you don't have any children because you're so hideous-looking, so you have no sympathy for me and mine?? That just ain't my problem!
Example #3.
My Gym Class today. I love My Gym, and so does Brendan so far. The kids are adorable. The mothers are mostly, well, rude as hell.
Me: "Oh your daughter is so cute."
Mean Mom: "Thank you."
Me: "How old is she?"
Mean Mom: "18 months."
Me: "What's her name?"
Mean Mom: "Olivia." *walks off to find someone better to talk to.*
Me: "Oh I absolutely DESPISE the name Olivia. EVERYONE and their MOTHER picks that name these days. And every child that I meet with that SAME NAME turns out to be the biggest BRAT on the planet! Good luck with her!"
Okay, I didn't say that. But how about some response for my child? Do you know how to converse with people who don't have giant sticks up their asses? Did you miss the social skills train or what?? What's the problem here?
I know, I know. I need to learn to relax. But man, people really rub me the wrong way sometimes.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
6 Things About Me
Thanks Andria! I love these things.
1. December 1, 2008, will mark the 13 year anniversary that my best friend died in a tragic car accident. Her name was Diana, and she was only 18 years old. Even though she was one grade above me, we stuck together like glue in high school. She had a boyfriend, Ryan, who died in a car accident as well just 6 months previous to her death. I still think of them often, especially Diana. I miss her and wonder what our friendship would be like today if she were still alive. It does put me at ease to know that they're together in heaven, and every time I see a rainbow or a beautiful sunset, I like to think they're sending me a sign of how happy they are up there.
2. I once adopted a dog without consulting the husband first, who was out of town on business. I don't think it would've been such a big deal, had the dog not resembled a vicious pitbull. I was oblivious to his pitbull qualities, I just took one look at all the scars he had from the previous owner and loaded him in the car! Husband literally saw his life flash before his eyes when coming home from Japan only to be insanely greeted by "Harvey" who we'd later rename SPIKE. Little did we know how he would win our hearts over repeatedly after that. I sure miss that dog.
3. The town I grew up in is Population 640. And it's probably even dwindled some more. My graduating class (1996) had 26 kids, the biggest class to ever graduate from that dang school. God I miss that small, wonderful town.
4. Brendan had no name when he was born. We had somewhat of a list when arriving at the hospital, but had nowhere near decided on a name. I kind of enjoyed watching the nurses grow impatient, as they kept popping their heads into the room. "Any name yet? You kids decide on a name yet? What about a name??? Okay...Boy L**ty it is then..." *SIGH* Apparently it screws with their paperwork for awhile. Hey. That's what they get for not making sure I had 2 IV bags before anyone could administer the epidural! Do you know what it was like, waiting for that damn bag to drain before I could get any relief??? Drip. Drip. Drip.
5. I have a scar on my bottom lip, got it when I was 5. Ma and Pa left us with a babysitter one night, and Shawn dared me to take a bite out of the frost that had formed on a shelf in the freezer. You can figure out the rest. Jerk. Funny though-I also fell onto a woodstove when I was little, both hands landed smack dab on the side of the stove and scorched until someone removed me. I had to wear casts for weeks. No scars from that! Weird.
6. To get political, George Bush got my vote 4 years ago, and I don't regret it for a second. It struck me that I have no regrets when the husband and I saw this bumper sticker the other day: Defend America--Defeat Bush. I found that so strange, because in my opinion, all he's ever done is defend America. Homeland security is my #1 priority considering my husband is on a plane twice a week, and last I checked, we haven't been attacked since 9/11. George Bush made sure of that. I hope he gets the credit that he deserves someday, I really do.
1. December 1, 2008, will mark the 13 year anniversary that my best friend died in a tragic car accident. Her name was Diana, and she was only 18 years old. Even though she was one grade above me, we stuck together like glue in high school. She had a boyfriend, Ryan, who died in a car accident as well just 6 months previous to her death. I still think of them often, especially Diana. I miss her and wonder what our friendship would be like today if she were still alive. It does put me at ease to know that they're together in heaven, and every time I see a rainbow or a beautiful sunset, I like to think they're sending me a sign of how happy they are up there.
2. I once adopted a dog without consulting the husband first, who was out of town on business. I don't think it would've been such a big deal, had the dog not resembled a vicious pitbull. I was oblivious to his pitbull qualities, I just took one look at all the scars he had from the previous owner and loaded him in the car! Husband literally saw his life flash before his eyes when coming home from Japan only to be insanely greeted by "Harvey" who we'd later rename SPIKE. Little did we know how he would win our hearts over repeatedly after that. I sure miss that dog.
3. The town I grew up in is Population 640. And it's probably even dwindled some more. My graduating class (1996) had 26 kids, the biggest class to ever graduate from that dang school. God I miss that small, wonderful town.
4. Brendan had no name when he was born. We had somewhat of a list when arriving at the hospital, but had nowhere near decided on a name. I kind of enjoyed watching the nurses grow impatient, as they kept popping their heads into the room. "Any name yet? You kids decide on a name yet? What about a name??? Okay...Boy L**ty it is then..." *SIGH* Apparently it screws with their paperwork for awhile. Hey. That's what they get for not making sure I had 2 IV bags before anyone could administer the epidural! Do you know what it was like, waiting for that damn bag to drain before I could get any relief??? Drip. Drip. Drip.
5. I have a scar on my bottom lip, got it when I was 5. Ma and Pa left us with a babysitter one night, and Shawn dared me to take a bite out of the frost that had formed on a shelf in the freezer. You can figure out the rest. Jerk. Funny though-I also fell onto a woodstove when I was little, both hands landed smack dab on the side of the stove and scorched until someone removed me. I had to wear casts for weeks. No scars from that! Weird.
6. To get political, George Bush got my vote 4 years ago, and I don't regret it for a second. It struck me that I have no regrets when the husband and I saw this bumper sticker the other day: Defend America--Defeat Bush. I found that so strange, because in my opinion, all he's ever done is defend America. Homeland security is my #1 priority considering my husband is on a plane twice a week, and last I checked, we haven't been attacked since 9/11. George Bush made sure of that. I hope he gets the credit that he deserves someday, I really do.
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