Sunday, May 29, 2011

A whole lot of flushing the toilet water today...


This blog is named what it is for a reason. Because I have many things to flush. Today, we will discuss what goes in the toilet, and then, hopefully flush, with no backups or clogs. If you have a weak fortitude, consider yourself forewarned. You might want to leave now.

The day started with a troubled text message from someone I care about. And when I said the day started that way, I do mean literally. The text message came in before I was out of bed. I managed to go to the bathroom and get coffee before the phone call started. The phone call lasted a long time. Without going into all the gory details, I ended up being a sounding board for some relationship issues. Not sure if my take on the situation was perceptive or ridiculous, and I doubt I was any help. But that is how I started my day. I am not complaining -- this is two people I care about, and I would do anything to help.

The situation above made me late getting ready for church. (OK - that, and checking Facebook, and checking for blog updates (which sadly were not posted), and looking at emails, etc.) MightyMO was ready on time, and because of plans for the afternoon, we were going in separate cars. When he left, my hair was still wet, and I had no makeup on, and because I don't want to cause nightmares for anyone, I won't go into any detail about my state of being dressed. He went on to church, one girl in tow, and got our seats. I did the super rush version of getting ready and made it to church before the greeters closed the doors, sans coffee. (I usually take a cup into the service with me.) Church was good. A drama skit done at the service was a little over the top for my tastes, but it was a good message.

I had a little time to kill before my afternoon outing, so I headed to the car wash, only to find it CLOSED. So my car is still a disaster. So, I headed to Shoe Station to get a purse that I had decided to splurge on for my upcoming Disney trip. I couldn't decide between two colors, and since I had neither one of my girls with me to ask for advice, I asked a clerk. I chose exactly opposite of what she suggested. I felt bad about it, and apologized, it just seemed kind of rude.

Next, I was off to my planned outing with a friend. This friend is 9 months pregnant. In fact, unless something happens tomorrow, she is going in the hospital for an induction on Tuesday. I had suggested some grown up girl time having lunch and pedicures before she got tied to dirty diapers and colic. We had fun, gabbed for 4 straight hours, AND I have pretty toes. Yay!

Fun fact: She's of the age that some extra tests were ordered, and she and her hubby have looked away from ELEVEN ultrasounds -- they don't know if they are having a boy or a girl. How cool is that?!? I'm so glad I'll get to meet a new little person this week!

On to the Grocery Store. Ugh. I did my standard thing, and called my husband to ask if there was anything he needed.
PET PEEVE INJECTION: MightyMO has a great deal on his cell phone plan, and he should, because HIS PHONE DOES NOT WORK AT OUR HOUSE! ARGH! It's the most frustrating thing EVER. Mind you, we gave up home phones quite some time ago, so our cells are "IT". He has to walk outside the house, find magnetic north, and stand on one leg while holding his mouth right to get a signal. He got a newer phone, and this got worse!
Back to the phone call to ask what he needed: He told me he's already been to the store. Great, except, when he shops, I don't get a call to find out what I need. I start asking did he get this, No. Did he get that, what about this other, HE CANT HEAR ME. PHONE CALL ENDS. I try to call back. Voice Mail. I wait for him to call back. He doesn't. I sit in the Grocery Store parking lot and wait. Nothing. I send a text, asking him to just text me list of what he did get. Nothing. NADA. I call BigB. No answer. I finally text MightyMO and ask him to have BigB call me. She does, except by now, I am in the recesses of WalMart, and I have NO SERVICE. We text back and forth about what Daddy got at the store. Turns out, I had a list about a mile long of things that were ignored. So I grocery shopped, praying I was not duplicating. Needless to say, by the time I finished shopping, I was TICKED.

Arrive home, another phone call, regarding relationship issues of the morning.

Proceed to fixing dinner. MightyMO announces he has already fixing something. For himself only. GRRRR. Children have not begun chores: I have to get out my MM hat (meanest mom) and GET SERIOUS. I have BigB unloading dishwasher, and MightyMO tells her to stop, because she is in the way of him cooking his exclusive dinner. STEAM.

Dinner is over. Kitchen cleaned. I had ghee toast with p'butter for dessert. Might go have more. It comforted me from this long, long day.

This is boring stuff, I know. This is the crapola that I deal with daily. Everyone has their issues. This is what the toilet water is for though, so the crapola can be flushed away.

And if you were not bored enough, there will be more flushing tomorrow. No need for a laxative.













Friday, May 27, 2011

Blog Names

I am learning that you are supposed to use code names in these blogs. It's a requirement to protect the innocent, and the not so innocent, and me, since you might be bigger than me, and might not like what I have to say about you. I've already sorta messed up, because I gave my "christened" name in a prior blog. If you happen to be a random peruser of the toilet water, that might be enough to identify the real me.

Please don't hunt me down.

Back to code names...

Some of the code names I use, people have given to themselves. Others are life long "pet" names, and some have been inherited. There are a few "original" to this blog.

Here is my current list of characters:

MightyMO - My husband. His friends gave him this nickname long ago. It has something to do with his personality and his initials. I only get the initials part. (Just kidding - Love you! ) But I am really not too worried about the joking insult, because I suspect you will never read this blog, visit facebook, twitter, or otherwise become cyber-social. It's a little sad.

T-Man - My one and only son. I've called him this since he was a little squirt. Now he is 20.5, tall, and truly almost a man. When he pays his own bills, and eats quiche, I'll deem him a real man. Other names considered for him: AHole, Jerk, Turkey-Butt and Grump. I think T-Man is the nicest, but sadly, it is not really reflective of his personality. I love him, but he's abrasive, in a totally lovable way. If you can tolerate him, he's a really good guy deep down.

Big B - This is my eldest daughter. She likes this nickname because it was given to her by her softball buddies. (We are sure missing softball!) She is always, always, always is tallest, her first name starts with "B" and she has a "big bat". And, well, it suits her in many ways. She's got a big heart, a big personality, a big brain, big talent. She's just a big person, in ways that have nothing to do with her physical size.

MO-jo -This is a new nickname for my youngest daughter that we're trying on for size. She shares her dad's initials "MO". She can really put the MOjo on me -- she's got some serious powers of persuasion, and can certainly get me in a tizzy before I can say "No MO"! I'm not sure if it will stick or not.

Lucy - This is the dog. I figure she can go by her real name. She is from Mississippi.

Geege, The Geege, GG - This is my mom. She is awesome. She's becoming even more awesome as senility sets in. It's entertaining.

PapaO - MightyMo's dad, my father-in-law. One of the most well rounded, interesting, smartest people I've ever had the privilege of knowing. I have a ton of respect for him, and the way he's lived his life.

Chickenandcowlady - a friend with personality and talent of infinite proportion. She has chickens, cows, and a garden. She is brave - she's felt a calf in utero. I think she knows how to operate a chainsaw, and drive a tractor. She makes ghee. She plays the piano. How cool is that?

The Choir Czar - I have not posted about the Choir Czar yet, but she is one of the most gifted people I have ever met. Her gift is the ability to take a group of kids, train them, instruct them, and then, after a while, have angelic sound come from the group of them. I am not sure I have ever known anyone who loves their children as "hard" as the Choir Czar. When she is in that mode, she the Mother Czar.

DrC - Someone else whom I have not posted about, but I'm sure I will soon. DrC is my co worker, and one of the best friends I've ever had. Incredibly level headed, and great sounding board. Someone who can set me straight in a heartbeat.

??? - There is one young lady who I really think the world of. She boosted my ego in huge ways. She listed me as one of her favorite athletes on FB and other people "liked" me, too... I guess you could say she kind of started a fan club for me. How cool is that? I've been trying to come up with a special name that is reflective of her many qualities, talents and traits. It might have something to do with a hobbit. Or opera. Or piano. Or essays. Or possibly moose adoration. The possibilities are endless.

There are many more friends and family member who do "life" with me. Most are still unnamed. It's kind of fun to try to come up with these names that are descriptive of the real person, put protect their identity.


Thursday, May 26, 2011

Life is like a country song.

Update: Just for the record, when I started this post, it was not going to be another "I have a dream..." post. It was actually going to be about the redeeming properties of the song "Take this job and shove it." Somewhere through the writing and the edits (which are incomplete with respect to grammar and punctuation) the topic went off to never-never land. Or the country. Which might be one in the same. ~T.

---------------------------------------------------------

♫ ♪ "Take this job and shove it..."♫ ♪

♫ ♪ "I was country, when country wasn't cool... "♫ ♪
♫ ♪ "Don't it make my brown eyes blue....." ♫ ♪
♫ ♪ "Some day, I hope you get the chance, to live like you were dyin'."♫ ♪
♫ ♪ "My home's in Alabama, no matter where I lay my head..." ♫ ♪
♫ ♪ "Jesus, take the wheel.'' ♫ ♪


I don't routinely listen to country music, but there is something to be said for a country ballad. A sweet story, set to music. Country music contains a lot of truth. And simplicity. And a message that the best parts of life are the little things.

Early in life, my "dream" was to go back to the country. I wanted another shot at having a horse, at the space, and the silence. I orignially wanted to go back to East Tennessee. I love the rolling hills, the hardwood trees and the change of seasons. I thought my grandparents farm property would always be in the family, and that someday I would be able to claim some of it as my own. Some of the property is still in the family, but, the part that was in my dream has long since been sold. At the point that it was sold, I kind of gave up on the dream. My expectations were shattered. It's only recently that I am beginning to realize that the dream didn't go away, only the property did. I am daring to let myself reclaim the dream.

This morning, I heard a country music song, and watched country music video. I wish I could tell you the title, but I can't, because it's my song, and it happened in my head. I am not sure where it came from, and I certainly don't have the skills to translate the music to something that can be shared. I can describe the scene, but there are no lyrics. But, I know there is singing. It's a power ballad. I can see it and hear it my head.

It starts in some big city office, with the middle aged professional mom sitting behind a desk, surrounded by pictures of kids. She stares a computer screen, but her expression shows that she's exasperated, and wondering if this is what it is all about. Cut away to a scene in a car. She's negotiating traffic, then pulling out of a fast food drive through, and passing out burgers to the back seat, while on the way to the evening activity, where she cheers on her child on in soccer, or football, or whatever it is. Cut away to mom and kids entering a dark house, unlocking the door, and heading off in different directions. Her husband sleeps in the recliner, while she folds clothes, and cleans a kitchen, and tucks kids into bed. The video pans around to show a nice home, with nice things, but all in kind of a dull, muted light, that is indicative of the lack of joy. It's not unhappiness, it just lacks joy. And laughter. Fade to black...

Cut away to the same middle aged woman staring out her office window, while folks in power suits chatter on behind her, while they examine graphs, and charts and point at computer screens. Out the window, she sees something bright, something that is symbolism for joy. It is a catalyst. She stands up, and walks out. Everyone looking at her like she's lost her mind.

Cut away back to the house. But the rooms are brighter, because light is pouring in, and spotlighting packing boxes, and through the windows you can tell there is a giant yard sale going on outside. Middle age woman walks, with purpose, down the drive and hammers the "for sale by owner" sign into the ground in the front yard. She turns and walks toward the yard sale activities with resolve, with purpose and without blinking.

Cut away to mom and kids in a beat up SUV, kids giggling in the back, holding a box full of baby chickens, driving down a dirt road in the country, and a turning into a long gravel driveway. The SUV is pulling a u-haul trailer. The SUV stops in front of an old, country house. It needs some work, but it is homey, and white-washed bright. And as mom and kids unload the u-haul, there is laughter. There is joy. Dad walks out of the house, holding a paint brush or some tools or something. He's not out of the picture, he's just not a significant part of the change for some reason.

The picture cuts away again -- to whatever the catalyst was. The brightness that brought about the courage, and determination to make the change. The picture fades to black, before we know what it was.

My song, and my video, tells a story about walking away from the complications, going to the simple things. It communicates that the simple things are not always easy. Sometimes they are a lot harder than the complications.

Obviously, I don't work in a big city office, or wear power suits. It's not totally me, but its symbolic of my life. I am wondering when (if!) I will ever see the brightness, will I find MY catalyst. Will I have the guts to pursue the dream? I hope so.

I want to find the tune, and write the lyrics, and experience the joy.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

What's in a name?

I just read an wonderful article about names. The power of names, the emotion evoked by names, and the love-hate relationship with names. This is a topic on which I am an expert. I have all of these emotions about my name.

There are family stories behind my name. Some, I believe to have been embellished, and some I believe are fact. My name, lovely as it was (and is) was the source of much childish torture, teenage angst and adult frustration. Sometimes, families get so wrapped up in the sentiments of names, they forget they have life long impact. I have seriously considered changing my name, as a matter of convenience

I was christened "Letitia Susan".

Problem 1 - Non-phonetic Pronunciation:
Do not attempt to pronounce my first name phonetically. It will come out wrong, and might get you punched. For some reason, people want to make the "tit" in the middle a syllable of its own. The correct pronunciation is "lə-TISH-ə ", hence the nick name "Tish". Calling me "lə-TIT-ee-uh" is not likely to get an answer.

Problem 2 : - Non-phonetic Spelling:
I have probably wasted a full year of my life dealing with how to spell my name. Here is a transcript of a routine conversation for me at a doctors office, getting my drivers license renewed, registering for a class, etc, calling the bank, etc:
Clerk: "What is your full name?"
Me: "lə-TISH-ə Sus..."
Clerk interrupts: "Wait, will you spell that for me?"
Me: "Sure, L, E, T, I, T, I"
Clerk, interrupts me: "I got the the 'T, I', what comes after the I?"
Me: "T, I"
Interrupts again. "No, after that.."
Me: "Another T, and another I"
Clerk looks at me, totally dazed and confused, because the "sh" sound is not computing.
I glare. And then hiss "Let me spell the whole thing for you, write down every letter, please, even if they repeat. Are you ready?" Clerk braces themselves and then I proceed, "L, E, T, I, T, I, A".
The clerk reads it back, disbelieving. Then takes a deep breath, and bracing for the worst asks "What's your middle name?" I say, "Susan". There is a visible sigh as of relief. I have had a couple of people ask me if it is spelled wrong, too.
Problem 3 - Even good kids are cruel:
I was called Tish from the day I was born. I guess no one ever dreamed about how similar this sounded to the word "tissue", and the implications of what "tissue paper" is used for. Lets just say, elementary school was not fun, especially since I was always having to make new friends. (I went to 7 different schools first through eighth grades.) To top it off, I was very, very thin, tall and lanky, and well, tissue paper wasn't a far stretch. I tried to pretend it didn't bother me, but it did.

Problem 4 - Family names carry expectations:
I am named after some very special people. Letitia is after my paternal grandmother, and Susan is after my maternal grandmother and a beloved great-aunt. But here, the story is not about my name, but my younger brothers. Here is the condensed version of the story of his name, and the baggage I got, because of his name.

My paternal grandparents were hard working, and successful, and over the years became a part of semi-elite small town social circles. Appearances, proper etiquette and social standing were very important to them. My father, the youngest of 3 children, and only boy, was a name sake. He was John Walter Robinson, Jr. From the day he was born, it was expected that he would grow up and run the family business. Except that as a teen and young man, and an adult, my dad screwed up. Repeatedly. My grandfather could not stand to have his name or reputation tarnished. So, in order to protect the family name, my grandfather bailed my dad out of each and every horrible situation he got himself into. As a result of this, and other factors, my dad never, even as an adult, learned how to stand on his own two feet. My mother, early in the marriage, saw the writing on the wall. She did not want this to happen to my brother. She and my dad decided, in spite of family pressure, not to make my brother JWR the THIRD, but to name him Brian Christopher.

Back in the day, women were knocked out for quite a while after giving birth, so they could "recover". When my mom woke up from recovery, all the birth certificate paperwork was had been completed and filed, signed and submitted, and my brothers legal name was John Walter Robinson, III. I think my grandfather took out an ad in the paper announcing the arrival of his namesake. There was no going back without a major scandal.

I grew up with this NAME being treated as though it came with a scepter and crown. Introductions were made like "This handsome young man is my grandson, John Walter Robinson the third. Oh, and this is my granddaughter, Tish."

My grandmother was very proud that I was named after her, though she did not make an announcement at every turn of the corner. She was the only person that called me "Letitia" my entire life. She wanted me to be a proper young lady. My earliest memories of my grandmother are remembrances of her calling me into the house in the afternoons. I'd be playing in the field with my brother and cousin, and she'd call me in from her kitchen door. (She left the boys out to play.) I was expected to come in from playing to clean up and put on a dress, because my grandfather would be home from work soon. I would then sit on the "divan", ankles crossed, while my grandfather watched the news, read the paper, and waited for dinner. My grandmothers outings consisted of shopping trips, trips to her garden club meetings, and home demonstration club meetings. She would not "go to town" without changing into a dress and stockings. She wanted me to be just like her.

I know that at times I disappointed her, let her down, and did not live up to the standards that she set for herself. But, at the end of her life, I know she was very proud of me, and thrilled that I had allowed myself to enjoy some of the same things she had in her younger years, like being a parent, crafts and sewing. It's her being proud of me that keeps me from legally changing my name to just "Tish". I think she'd be disappointed from the grave.


The number one criteria I had for naming my children was that their names were phonetically correct. Though there are name sakes, there are no juniors. They are not the most common names, nor are they totally unusual.

I have a love-hate relationship with my own name. I have issues with my brothers name, and the special treatment he got because of it. So yes, names evoke great emotion. And tell a story. And affect who you become.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Mysteries of Life

I have a dog. She could be considered an "in" dog because I can carry her under one arm, and she's small, white and fluffy. Except, she has issues. She has a pronounced under-bite. She is bipolar, and in a matter of a nanosecond can turn from sweet, lovey, lap dog to "I will take off your pinky toe if you get one step closer to my food". She is a bit slutty, but only TRULY loves her bed. (When she loves it so much she keeps the entire house awake, we hide her bed in the closet.) She is overweight. She snores. Just to sum it all up in five words: My dog is from Mississippi.

The greatest mystery of all, is the dogs eating habits. She is on diet food. The food is dry, and has various shaped bits that are different colors. When you look at the food, the shapes and colors somehow remind you of a well balanced meal. There is the redish brown mid-sized piece of "meat", the fat, round goldish yellow potato, and the dark green piece that is a vegetable. If you set one of each piece on a small plate, there would be every impression of meat and potatoes meal cooked by grandma. The only problem is, that this food is for my DOG. and my dog has decided that she only likes one item on her plate. The dog only eats the fat goldish yellow pieces. How does my little dog manage this? This is one of life's great mysteries.

During the night we sometimes hear a mysterious bumping noise. So, we spied on the dog, and as a result have demystified the mystery. The dog's food bowl is a small, straight sided bowl. It looks like a miniature souffle' dish, and it has a small lip or rim around the edge. The dog uses her nose and catches the rim of the bowl, lifting one side of the bowl about an inch off the floor. She then lets go, and the bowl falls down to the floor. For years, we have not been able to figure out why the dog wanted to bang her full food bowl on the floor. And then, one day it became apparent. THIS was how she was separating her favorite fat yellow pieces from all the others.

Have you ever had a can of mixed nuts? Who wants the Brazil nuts, or the ones that look like toes? I want the cashews and pecan's, thank you, please. How do you get to them without digging through the entire can with your dirty paws? Just shake the can, and bang it on a table. The cashews and pecans are less dense (lighter?) than the other nuts, and the process brings them right to the top. Shake the can a little, and bang it on the table a few times, the heavy nuts settle to the bottom, and my favorite cashews and pecans are right on top.

So, this is what my dog was doing. She was shaking her own can of mixed nuts. And this solves one of the great mysteries, which is why my dogs bowl is always full, but she acts like she is starving.

Mystery solved.

Next week, I'll be on Mythbusters. Don't miss it.


Thursday, May 19, 2011

Bloggless

I am blogging about not blogging today. I am tired, and my blogs have been downers. I am going to search for lighter material. I am open to suggestions. Here are some topics I've considered:
  • touch pads on laptops. (hate mine - not a good topic, will probably turn into another anger post)
  • clowns.
  • coffee.
  • dogs that snore
  • caulk
  • cake
  • tv shows I like
  • sleep
  • birthday parties
  • toenails
  • ice makers
I have many more. With the lighter posts, I just get bored after one or two lines.

But I will try.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

It's been one of those days, so I am playing dress up.

Today has been one of the days where it just does not seem worth the effort. I am wondering why I left my house this morning.


Many things went wrong today, but that wasn't the worst thing. The worst thing was that I have been feeling this impending sense of doom. This is not new to today. It's been weighing on me, and in my subconscious for weeks. Maybe months. I feel like I need to make a major shift in direction, in order to avoid something. I don't know what it is I need to avoid. I just keep having this nagging feeling that if don't make a change, something is going to come crashing down, and that is stupid to wait for it. I am wondering if it is a shift in some magnetic field, affecting me the way an impending storm affects animals. Does anyone else feel it? Or is this my own personal phobia?


So, recently I have have been thinking of ways to escape the doom, questioned the direction of my life, and found myself trying to concoct a plan. Actually, I have concocted a dream. So what does any self respecting person do when they want to escape to another life? Play dress up. Bear with me as I try this dream on for size:


I want to sell all (well, most) of my worldly possessions, downsize, simplify and go back to basics. Basically, I want to be independent of the world. If she is willing, I will take lessons from chickenandcow lady. I will educate my children at home, and they shall be smart, and achieve great things. I will get chickens. I will order them off the internet. I might even get a cow and learn to make butter. And ghee. (And do cows really have to be milked early in the morning? How do they feel about 9 to 9:30? I need a mid-morning cow.) Maybe I will get a piano. I will befriend the people at the feed store. And learn how to plant potatoes. I could survive on potatoes and eggs, I think. I am looking into fermenting kits. (You can figure that one out on your own. I am a Tennessee Hillbilly at heart.) I will learn to drive a tractor, operate a chain saw, and have a real wood burning fire place. I shall make gravy. Often. In fact, I will have a gravy shrine. I will volunteer more, offer more of myself, expect less from others. I will have a clothes line, and I will grow zinnias. Dinner will be at 6pm, sharp. And I will fix lunch for the family on Sundays. I will get out my collection of cast iron cookware, wash it by hand, and then season it with Crisco. Or lard. (Can you even buy lard anymore, and does it stink when you use it to season your cast iron?) I will purchase some Ivory Snow.


So I am mentally trying on this entirely different style of life for size. It's kind of like a dress I saw a friend wearing and I really like it. It's certainly not a perfect fit for me, so I will start thinking of what alterations are needed. I will probably ultimately decide that its not right for me all. It may not be my style, or it may be too expensive, or I may just be scared to make such be a significant change. Either way, it's nice to play dress up.

Monday, May 16, 2011

Expect the unexpected

Today, I had unexpected greetings in the mail. They were not of the friendly sort. In fact, the letter I received was down right ugly, demanding, and just plain not nice. A while back, we had a client who was past due on some invoices. Things got bad, and they filed bankruptcy/reorganization. I filed a claim with the bankruptcy court for the outstanding amount. Shortly after this, I received a check for the invoices that were outstanding. Yipee! Was a little surprised, and I didn't think twice about it.

According to the letter I got today, the client paid direct, not through the courts. Apparently, when they paid us, they shouldn't have (not because the invoices weren't valid, but because of the reorganization.) So now I am being told that I must return the money to the bankruptcy administrator. More than TWO YEARS LATER. Apparently this is legal, and bankruptcy laws actually include provisions that require that funds paid out within 90 days of the date bankruptcy is filed basically be returned. Federal law.

Now, for a small company like ours, this was a significant amount of money. Several thousand dollars, that was for work performed over the course of about 9 or 10 months. The lack of payment put us in a bad situation back then, and now, I am being told I have to RETURN the funds. It is absolutely ludicrous. And yes, the sweet letter from an alphabet law firm threatens court action if demand is not met in 2 weeks. TWO WEEKS.

So, to summarize: client was TEN months behind when they paid, in arrears, for work that had already been performed. TWO YEARS later, they say "oops", we made a mistake, and now I am supposed to correct their mistake in TWO WEEKS. There is something wrong with this picture!

This made for a bad start to my Monday morning, as you can imagine. I know I am not doing a good job of explaining this, because I don't totally understand it. This is a bad blog. I dislike it almost as much as I dislike the situation.

M is on the countdown to school being out. She said her class watched movies all day today. Thank goodness I paid tuition. Wouldn't want her to miss that. (Seriously -- I am so glad not to be facing homework, it's OK.)

B totally bombed a major test today. I asked her about it at least 50 times this weekend. I knew she did not give it the attention it deserved, but she said she had it. I hope it was a learning experience. It made her grade in the class drop several points, and changed her from a comfortable A to a high B. She can get it back to an A with a strong grade on her EQT. I hope she has it in her to really pull it together the last week of school.

Tomorrow night is B's band concert. I am really looking forward to it. She has been working on something a little extra, and we get to hear it tomorrow.

Thats all for tonights bad blog.


Friday, May 13, 2011

Chain Letters, Friday the 13th, Black Cats and more…

Last night B got this chain letter via text message. It started out with this horrible story about a (presumably) tweenage girl coming home to find her mother murdered, and then dumped in an upstairs bedroom closet. After the tweenage girl found her brutally murdered mother, she ran screaming down the stairs, at which point, some mystical event resulted in a tragic ending to her life. The text message included a picture of some generic stairs in some generic house. (I admit, I had to do a double take, because I initially thought the picture was taken inside my own house.) The story ended with the instruction that if the recipient didn’t forward this to two million people, the same thing would happen to them. Hogwash.


So, here it is, Friday the 13th. I don’t think of myself as superstitious, but I cannot help but recognize that today is supposedly unlucky by virtue of the numerical date and the day of the week. I also grimace whenever I think a black cat has crossed my path, quickly contemplate all that can go wrong in the next seven years if I break a mirror, and I would not walk under a ladder without good reason. (Like, if someone double dog dared me to.) All of these things are silly, and I know it. I will not, however, forward a chain letter. It doesn’t matter what tragedy awaits me, or how rich I’ll be, or even if Bill Gates himself is somehow tracking the email and planning on sharing his Microsoft millions with me if I forward it on. I’ll just keep my silliness to myself, thank you very much. I won’t impose it on you.


I posted something about this horrible chain letter on my Facebook status, and had a couple of very interesting comments. One of my friends identified chain letters as a form of bullying. Wow. Never thought about it that way, but that is what it is. Anytime you influence someone to do something out of fear of retaliation (even in the form of bad luck), that is exactly what it is.


I have heard before that most chain emails are started by people who sell email lists to spammers. Look at the next chain email you receive. I’ll bet it will include forward, after forward, after forward. Most of the time you can click on those forwards, and instantly have access to the email addresses of a whole bunch of people you don’t know. In fact, depending on your email program, those addresses are probably stored on your computer or in your address book in some form or fashion. Now, suppose for a moment that a friend of the friend that sent you the chain mail gets a virus on their computer. This virus scans their computer for email addresses, and of course, your address is right beside theirs in the “to” line of the email. The virus then sends out a spam message that includes a link to some website that sells drugs, or porn, or watches, or whatever else is out there that you really don’t want. Every time you forward one of these things, your email address, as well as the addresses of all your friends is embedded in that message. You don’t know where it will end up.


So, I’d simply ask, if you get a cute picture, or a funny joke or something else that you would like to share with me and 47 thousand of your closest friends, please do me the courtesy of sending it using the BLIND CARBON COPY or BCC function in your email. (All the email programs have it – check your ‘help’ screens if you don’t see it.) By doing so, you keep the email addresses of your friends private. It is the courteous thing to do.


And the next time a chain letter comes around, remember that I really don’t want it. I will break the chain. And, by the way, if you don’t share this blog message with 3,983,428,120 of your closest friends, I will break out my voodoo doll.

Thursday, May 12, 2011

My Vacuum Cleaner

My vacuum cleaner is supposed to live in a closet, upstairs, far removed from daily view. But, since I am always “about” to use it, it stays in the living room, or the foyer, or somewhere else convenient, tucked into a corner. One peek at the amount of goo on the carpets and you can tell that I have been about to vacuum for about a month.


I have decided that perhaps I should paint the vacuum cleaner to match the décor, and that it should double as something useful. (After all, it’s not doing much vacuuming.) Perhaps it could serve as a coat rack, or an umbrella stand, or maybe it could hold the fireplace tools. That would be appropriate, because the fireplace tools are there just to give the impression that we work on having a fire. We have gas logs that Mighty MO refuses to turn on, because gas is so expensive. So the unused vacuum could double as a stand for the unused fireplace tools next to the unused fireplace. This might just work.


Along with the unused vacuum, I have unused dust rags, scrub brushes, brooms and feather duster thingys. If I hold onto all this long enough, maybe it will be worth something. In about 100 years, this collection will be called “archives”.


In some miraculous time, long, long ago, I had a maid. A wonderful maid. She would come spend a whole day at my house. I’d walk in from work to smells that would knock my socks off. The whole house smelled like lemons, and fresh laundry. It looked sparkly clean, and it really was. Even the crevices were clean. Wonder maid washed clothes and started dinner. Those were the days. Best of all, there was the wonderful satisfaction of knowing someone could stop by, and I would not be embarrassed to let them in. But, no one ever stopped by when the house was clean. If someone stopped by, it was on the day just maid came. It was the perfect snooty excuse for a messy house.


I am full of excuses as to why my house resembles a demolition site. Someday, PC (post children) I will really clean it. For now, I must go. I am about to vacuum.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Things I start...

So, after almost a year to the day, I'm back here contemplating all the things I WANT to do. All the things I start to do, but never maintain. Blogs, exercise, diets, hobbies. Seems I am always leaving something unfinished.

Today, I feel icky. Just plain yuck. Not sure why. I was unable to concentrate. At all. So my list of accomplishments for the day goes something like this:

1.

The end.

Maybe I can get back to this blogging thing.