I got this comment from lorib in regard to my "What would you ask for, if you knew you would get it?" post:
Follow-up: I forwarded this to D because he had a former, much-loved intern going through her first job search and getting low-ball offers. D encouraged her to ask for more money and also sent her this post. I have no idea if she read it, but she did ask for more money and got it. You may have helped put one young woman on the right track at the start of her career.
This just made my day. No, scratch that. This just made MY WEEK!
I love it!
Keep it up! If nothing else, we will all make more money. That can't be bad!
...and just so you know I "walk the walk"...here's my tale:
Friday night we went to our favorite Italian restaurant. It was around 7:30pm and, of course, the place was crowded. We were told we had a 20 minute wait. After about 5 minutes, Alex starts getting restless. Since we are standing there looking at 2 empty tables in the bar, and a foursome eating at the third, I said, "let's ask if we can sit in the bar". Two minutes later, we walked past all the other poor (silent) suckers waiting for their table and sat in a nice, roomy table in the bar. And, no, no one was smoking...they were all just waiting for other tables! It was sweet!
Keep it up! I want MORE stories!
Monday, April 16, 2007
Friday, April 13, 2007
A Friday the 13th Story
I said something to a co-worker today about it being Friday the 13th, and they asked me, "Oh, are you superstition?". Hmmm... I didn't know how to answer!
I happily stand under ladders, I socialize with black cats (if they are nice), and I just plain try to stay out of graveyards, so there's no risk of me walking over someone's grave.
However...
I do listen to the universe.
Okay you new age goofy freak, what does that mean?
I think there are signs around us that give us guidance about whether we are going in the right direction or not. You might call it "God", "karma", "Gaia" or even "shit happens".
Mr. Goofy and I grew up in the same city. But we did not meet until we were in high school. But after comparing notes over the years, we have come to realize that our paths intersected many, many times over the years. YMCA camp, field trips, common friends...we found a scary amount of examples that prove to me that we were meant to meet. [insert Twlight Zone theme here]
The best example of this was when we adopted our son. Regardless of what you might read, when you meet your adopted child for the first time, angels do not come down from the heavens and you do not hear trumpets, violins, nor kazoos playing. You just stare at each other and think, "Jeez, is this the one?"
So when we traveled to Russia for the first time to meet our new son, we were listening. For a sign. Anything. So we would know if were on the right track. There's a lot of of scaryness related to adopting internationally. You have no real medical history. It can be lied about. If the parents are not married, the dad is not put on the birth certificate, so you have no idea of his medical history. There is a big risk of fetal alcohol syndrome, especially with all the readily-accessible vodka. And sexually-transmitted diseases are pretty common and can be transferred to the child of a pregnant mom.
Unlike China, when you travel to Russia, you do not get many details regarding the child they have selected for you. The "expecting parents" for China get pictures, names, ages, and details. We got a hearty, "C'mon over, we have a boy selected for you". How old? Name? "Just c'mon over and meet him." Um...okay.
So, of course, one of the first question friends and family asked was, "Well, what are you going to name him?" We were very open to keeping his given name, provided it "worked" in America. Our comment was typically, "Well, if it's something like Vladamir, we will probably change it. But if it's something like Alexander, then that would work here and we will keep it."
The first details you get about your "referral" are in Russia. We met with the Director of the Ministry of Education. He had a file in his hand. He pulled out a picture of a bouncing baby boy. Obviously a boy, as the child was buck naked, all his boy parts showing, with a goofy grin on his face.
"His name is Alexander," the Director said. And that was all we needed to know.
The universe spoke.
We heard.
I happily stand under ladders, I socialize with black cats (if they are nice), and I just plain try to stay out of graveyards, so there's no risk of me walking over someone's grave.
However...
I do listen to the universe.
Okay you new age goofy freak, what does that mean?
I think there are signs around us that give us guidance about whether we are going in the right direction or not. You might call it "God", "karma", "Gaia" or even "shit happens".
Mr. Goofy and I grew up in the same city. But we did not meet until we were in high school. But after comparing notes over the years, we have come to realize that our paths intersected many, many times over the years. YMCA camp, field trips, common friends...we found a scary amount of examples that prove to me that we were meant to meet. [insert Twlight Zone theme here]
The best example of this was when we adopted our son. Regardless of what you might read, when you meet your adopted child for the first time, angels do not come down from the heavens and you do not hear trumpets, violins, nor kazoos playing. You just stare at each other and think, "Jeez, is this the one?"
So when we traveled to Russia for the first time to meet our new son, we were listening. For a sign. Anything. So we would know if were on the right track. There's a lot of of scaryness related to adopting internationally. You have no real medical history. It can be lied about. If the parents are not married, the dad is not put on the birth certificate, so you have no idea of his medical history. There is a big risk of fetal alcohol syndrome, especially with all the readily-accessible vodka. And sexually-transmitted diseases are pretty common and can be transferred to the child of a pregnant mom.
Unlike China, when you travel to Russia, you do not get many details regarding the child they have selected for you. The "expecting parents" for China get pictures, names, ages, and details. We got a hearty, "C'mon over, we have a boy selected for you". How old? Name? "Just c'mon over and meet him." Um...okay.
So, of course, one of the first question friends and family asked was, "Well, what are you going to name him?" We were very open to keeping his given name, provided it "worked" in America. Our comment was typically, "Well, if it's something like Vladamir, we will probably change it. But if it's something like Alexander, then that would work here and we will keep it."
The first details you get about your "referral" are in Russia. We met with the Director of the Ministry of Education. He had a file in his hand. He pulled out a picture of a bouncing baby boy. Obviously a boy, as the child was buck naked, all his boy parts showing, with a goofy grin on his face.
"His name is Alexander," the Director said. And that was all we needed to know.
The universe spoke.
We heard.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
What would you ask for, if you knew you would get it?
Since moving to our new house, I have realized how much I missed our house cleaner. We fired her when we started doing open houses every Sunday at the old house, since we would scrub the place top-to-bottom Sunday morning, then she would come on Monday. We wondered what we were paying her for, so we fired her (nicely, and she refused to come clean on Friday, else we would have had her do that).
Anyway, I decided to reward the small business that left a nice, pleasing house cleaning flyer on our door. I'm becoming very jaded against large, franchised companies and starting to prefer working with small, locally-owned joints.
I called, we met at the house and walked through the house-cleaning procedure. She seemed nice and seemed willing to have her crew do WAY more than Previous Housecleaner. Change our sheets? Sweet! Dust our blinds? Rock n' Roll!
At the end, she said, "And I will call you the following day to find out how we did and see if you would like to get on a weekly or bi-weekly schedule." Wow! I was impressed. That seemed very professional and easy. I didn't have to call her back, and when she called, I could easily mention any tasks that we had forgotten to ask her to do (something that was always very ackward with Previous Housecleaner).
Then came. They cleaned. They did a great job. The house smelled good. It looked good. Mr. Goofy noticed.*
I took a few notes (very few) on some things that we forgot to tell them (we hide our bathroom trash cans under the sinks - something we got doing during the open house process and learned to love...who wants to SEE their bathroom trash all the time? Ugh. And they didn't know that and didn't empty those cans.).
And....she didn't call the next day.
Nor the next day.
The weekend came. Then went.
Monday came and I was started to get a bit peeved. All she had to do was call. And we were ready to sign up! We were even considering the weekly option, although with every minute ticking past, this option was going away. Also, over the weekend, we decided that, since they did such a good job, we would pay them to do a move-out cleaning on our old house. So whenever she called, I was ready to give her TWO PAYING JOBS!
[This is where I transition to a life lesson. Wait for it...wait for it....]
Then, last night I tripped across an interesting book called "Women Don't Ask". The premise of the book is that, by their nature, women don't like to negotiate. And it hurts them in the long term.
I could relate. I have a hard time asking for things sometime. Last time I bought a car, I negotiated the price, and I don't think I slept the night before. It was kinda painful....until you actually GET something that you are asking for, then it's wonderful!
Here's some interesting stats from the book: more here
-Men initiate negotiations about four times as often as women.
-When asked to pick metaphors for the process of negotiating, men picked "winning a ballgame" and a "wrestling match," while women picked "going to the dentist."
-Women will pay as much as $1,353 to avoid negotiating the price of a car, which may help explain why 63 percent of Saturn car buyers are women.
-20 percent of adult women (22 million people) say they never negotiate at all, even though they often recognize negotiation as appropriate and even necessary.
And I had a real-life example! All the housecleaner gal had to do was call me. A call that I was expecting. And she would have two cleaning jobs. This week!
Postscript: I finally relented and left her a message late Monday afternoon. She called me back mid-morning Tuesday, didn't ask at all about how the cleaning went (I volunteered). After the whole conversation, I think she still seemed pretty ambivalent about getting my business. Sigh.
So, Dear Readers, whether you are female or other, here is your Homework Assignment for this week: ASK SOMEONE FOR SOMETHING THAT THEY DON'T HAVE TO GIVE YOU.
This could be as simple as asking for a better table at a restaurant. Or as large as asking for a raise. Look for opportunities!
The worst you can do is get denied. Keep asking. If the first person says "No", try another person.
And....let me know how it went!
*NOTE: Mr. Goofy has a mom from Germany. They grew up in a spotlessly clean house. He is anal to the max about clean. This is why I don't even TRY to clean. I ain't never winning THAT game.
Anyway, I decided to reward the small business that left a nice, pleasing house cleaning flyer on our door. I'm becoming very jaded against large, franchised companies and starting to prefer working with small, locally-owned joints.
I called, we met at the house and walked through the house-cleaning procedure. She seemed nice and seemed willing to have her crew do WAY more than Previous Housecleaner. Change our sheets? Sweet! Dust our blinds? Rock n' Roll!
At the end, she said, "And I will call you the following day to find out how we did and see if you would like to get on a weekly or bi-weekly schedule." Wow! I was impressed. That seemed very professional and easy. I didn't have to call her back, and when she called, I could easily mention any tasks that we had forgotten to ask her to do (something that was always very ackward with Previous Housecleaner).
Then came. They cleaned. They did a great job. The house smelled good. It looked good. Mr. Goofy noticed.*
I took a few notes (very few) on some things that we forgot to tell them (we hide our bathroom trash cans under the sinks - something we got doing during the open house process and learned to love...who wants to SEE their bathroom trash all the time? Ugh. And they didn't know that and didn't empty those cans.).
And....she didn't call the next day.
Nor the next day.
The weekend came. Then went.
Monday came and I was started to get a bit peeved. All she had to do was call. And we were ready to sign up! We were even considering the weekly option, although with every minute ticking past, this option was going away. Also, over the weekend, we decided that, since they did such a good job, we would pay them to do a move-out cleaning on our old house. So whenever she called, I was ready to give her TWO PAYING JOBS!
[This is where I transition to a life lesson. Wait for it...wait for it....]
Then, last night I tripped across an interesting book called "Women Don't Ask". The premise of the book is that, by their nature, women don't like to negotiate. And it hurts them in the long term.
I could relate. I have a hard time asking for things sometime. Last time I bought a car, I negotiated the price, and I don't think I slept the night before. It was kinda painful....until you actually GET something that you are asking for, then it's wonderful!
Here's some interesting stats from the book: more here
-Men initiate negotiations about four times as often as women.
-When asked to pick metaphors for the process of negotiating, men picked "winning a ballgame" and a "wrestling match," while women picked "going to the dentist."
-Women will pay as much as $1,353 to avoid negotiating the price of a car, which may help explain why 63 percent of Saturn car buyers are women.
-20 percent of adult women (22 million people) say they never negotiate at all, even though they often recognize negotiation as appropriate and even necessary.
And I had a real-life example! All the housecleaner gal had to do was call me. A call that I was expecting. And she would have two cleaning jobs. This week!
Postscript: I finally relented and left her a message late Monday afternoon. She called me back mid-morning Tuesday, didn't ask at all about how the cleaning went (I volunteered). After the whole conversation, I think she still seemed pretty ambivalent about getting my business. Sigh.
So, Dear Readers, whether you are female or other, here is your Homework Assignment for this week: ASK SOMEONE FOR SOMETHING THAT THEY DON'T HAVE TO GIVE YOU.
This could be as simple as asking for a better table at a restaurant. Or as large as asking for a raise. Look for opportunities!
The worst you can do is get denied. Keep asking. If the first person says "No", try another person.
And....let me know how it went!
*NOTE: Mr. Goofy has a mom from Germany. They grew up in a spotlessly clean house. He is anal to the max about clean. This is why I don't even TRY to clean. I ain't never winning THAT game.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Letter to Daycare-Where-Goofy-Junior-Goes
Dear Idiots -
Why, oh why do you insist of selling Easter baskets ($10) and bunny ears ($5) in the main lobby of your daycare for an ENTIRE week?
Pissed-Off Goofy Girl
Every day for the past week, Goofy Junior has bee-lined to the table, picked up a basket (or the ears) and said, "I want this." OF COURSE he wants it. It's like waving raw meat in front of a tiger. Or putting a mouse in a cage with cheese all over the place. OF COURSE the tiger and the mouse want the meat and cheese, respectively. They've been looking at it all day. It's pretty. It's colorful. It's bunny-ish. They want it. Now.
So every day this week, when I pick up Junior. He asks. I say, "No". No, scratch that. I don't just say "No". I explain too.
"Junior," I say, "you have no less than THREE pairs of bunny ears at home. In several days, you will have more Easter baskets and basket contents than you could ever dream"*
(here comes the whining) "But I WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANT it."
(then comes the tears) "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA."
I have to explain to the wide-eyed dad walking in the door that we are having a "tough love day". "Been there," he grumbled, then walked briskly away.
After 15 minutes or so (no, you didn't read that wrong....FIFTEEN), Junior finally gets tired of crying. We get in the car and drive away. Three minutes later he's happily giggling and smiling, bunny ears and baskets no longer in his face.
In case you are curious, the same thing happens at Valentine's Day. I'm really glad we don't have another holiday coming any time soon.
*NOTE: Junior's grandparents are coming in this weekend, surely bearing tons of Easter sugar...er, joy.
Why, oh why do you insist of selling Easter baskets ($10) and bunny ears ($5) in the main lobby of your daycare for an ENTIRE week?
Knock it off!
Signed,Pissed-Off Goofy Girl
Every day for the past week, Goofy Junior has bee-lined to the table, picked up a basket (or the ears) and said, "I want this." OF COURSE he wants it. It's like waving raw meat in front of a tiger. Or putting a mouse in a cage with cheese all over the place. OF COURSE the tiger and the mouse want the meat and cheese, respectively. They've been looking at it all day. It's pretty. It's colorful. It's bunny-ish. They want it. Now.
So every day this week, when I pick up Junior. He asks. I say, "No". No, scratch that. I don't just say "No". I explain too.
"Junior," I say, "you have no less than THREE pairs of bunny ears at home. In several days, you will have more Easter baskets and basket contents than you could ever dream"*
(here comes the whining) "But I WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANT it."
(then comes the tears) "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA."
I have to explain to the wide-eyed dad walking in the door that we are having a "tough love day". "Been there," he grumbled, then walked briskly away.
After 15 minutes or so (no, you didn't read that wrong....FIFTEEN), Junior finally gets tired of crying. We get in the car and drive away. Three minutes later he's happily giggling and smiling, bunny ears and baskets no longer in his face.
In case you are curious, the same thing happens at Valentine's Day. I'm really glad we don't have another holiday coming any time soon.
*NOTE: Junior's grandparents are coming in this weekend, surely bearing tons of Easter sugar...er, joy.
Monday, April 02, 2007
The Glass is Half-Full, Dammit!
I attended a Real Estate Investing conference this past weekend...trying to get my motivation back for This Old House (and possibly some Other Old Houses...I'm not through yet!!!). I'm a stubborn cur sometimes. (my husband would scratch out the 'sometimes')
Here's what was funny. Kinda. Our speaker on Sunday had a short segment called, "Houses NOT to Buy". My rehab house met ALMOST ALL OF THE CRITERIA. Hello? No wonder it's not selling (well, other than a flaky realtor, recurring plumbing problems, no parking, blah, blah, blah).
It read like a laundry list: Avoid houses....
-on a busy street (check!),
-with steep front yards with stairs (check!),
-with no driveway (check!),
-no off-street parking (check!),
-bad neighborhood (check!),
-no garage (check!)
-over 30 minutes drive from your home or office (check!).
Jeez. I really know how to pick 'em, huh?
But, ever the eternal optimist, here's my take-away...
I'VE MADE ALL MY MISTAKES WITH THE FIRST HOUSE! Yee-ha! What an over-achiever, I am. Now I can relax.
I know...I'm goofy. Duh. Check out the name of this blog. It's named that way for a reason.
Here's what was funny. Kinda. Our speaker on Sunday had a short segment called, "Houses NOT to Buy". My rehab house met ALMOST ALL OF THE CRITERIA. Hello? No wonder it's not selling (well, other than a flaky realtor, recurring plumbing problems, no parking, blah, blah, blah).
It read like a laundry list: Avoid houses....
-on a busy street (check!),
-with steep front yards with stairs (check!),
-with no driveway (check!),
-no off-street parking (check!),
-bad neighborhood (check!),
-no garage (check!)
-over 30 minutes drive from your home or office (check!).
Jeez. I really know how to pick 'em, huh?
But, ever the eternal optimist, here's my take-away...
I'VE MADE ALL MY MISTAKES WITH THE FIRST HOUSE! Yee-ha! What an over-achiever, I am. Now I can relax.
I know...I'm goofy. Duh. Check out the name of this blog. It's named that way for a reason.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
The Best Kid's Cartoon EVER
Is Peep and the Big Wide World.Check out the theme song. I guarantee it will make you smile.
Go to the library and check out a DVD...even if you don't have any kids. If you have kids, sit down with them and watch an episode. It's friggin' hilarious stuff, my friends. You gotta chuckle at a purple duck in a sailor's hat.
Oh yeah, almost forgot....they are educational too. Bonus.
Dora has officially been de-throned. Yippee!!!
What are you waiting for?! Just watch one now.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Bear-onomics 201
UPDATE on The Great Bear Debate 2007:
I found out that the bears cost $10 apiece. (this was more than I expected...for the size/quality of the bear, I was thinking more like $3 -$5...but I suppose there was the charitable component at work).
I also found out that there were 40 bears for sale. I'm not great at math, but that looks like $400 to buy all the bears. I also found out that the Bear-ophile Daddy won 3 "free week of daycare" prizes hidden in the bears' pots. If I take an average amount for daycare at our place, it's probably around $180.
So $180 * 3 weeks = $540. So Bear Lovin' Poppa got an $140 discount on daycare, a charitable deduction on his taxes (minus the $3-5 cost per bear), and 40 bears to give away to family and friends for St. Paddy's Day.
So, as much as it pains me, I have to go with option a) Savvy businessman.
Bastard.
I found out that the bears cost $10 apiece. (this was more than I expected...for the size/quality of the bear, I was thinking more like $3 -$5...but I suppose there was the charitable component at work).
I also found out that there were 40 bears for sale. I'm not great at math, but that looks like $400 to buy all the bears. I also found out that the Bear-ophile Daddy won 3 "free week of daycare" prizes hidden in the bears' pots. If I take an average amount for daycare at our place, it's probably around $180.
So $180 * 3 weeks = $540. So Bear Lovin' Poppa got an $140 discount on daycare, a charitable deduction on his taxes (minus the $3-5 cost per bear), and 40 bears to give away to family and friends for St. Paddy's Day.
So, as much as it pains me, I have to go with option a) Savvy businessman.
Bastard.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Bear-onomics*
Our daycare is doing a fund raising drive for charity. Yesterday, when I went to pick up Goofy Junior, there was a table by the front door filled with St. Patrick's Day-themed, little stuffed bears, each with a little black pot with a paper in it. Being a diligent reader of the daycare newsletter (fun reading, y'all), I knew that in one of those pots was a FREE WEEK OF DAYCARE. Not a small prize for us working parents!
I didn't have my wallet with me, so I inquired, "how long will the bears be on sale?". "All week" was the answer.
So, I traipsed into daycare this afternoon, wallet in hand, ready to claim my bear. I had promised one to Goofy Junior the previous day, when he saw the aforementioned Table o' Bears.
But, when I entered the building....an empty table greeted me. No bears. No signs. Where the #&*% were the bears?! I asked Daycare Worker #1....no idea. I asked Daycare Worker #2...and she had the answer.
Some dad had done the math. He multiplied the price of the bears, times the cost of each bear, and compared that with the cost of one week of daycare. And....
The bastard bought all the bears. All of them. Every last fucking bear.
I think my jaw hit the floor....and I was immediately conflicted by two emotions:
a) Shock. He bought all the bears?! What about MY bear? How would I explain to GJ that some cheap dork bought all the bears?
then...
b) Jealousy. Why didn't *I* think of this? I could have gotten a cheaper week of daycare. Dammit.
Then I thought further...The dude actually helped the daycare achieve their goal...they DID sell all the bears. And they did get the donation for charity.
But...what about us "late parents" who didn't have their wallet on Monday? We have money burning a hole in our pockets for a bear. We want a bear dammit!
If you've read the book, "Freakonomics", this is a lot like the after-hours daycare scenario. A daycare had a problem with parents picking up late, so they decided to start charging for late pickups. They decided to charge $3 for a late pickups. Late pickups promptly went up. Yes, up!
As any parent reading this could tell you, well, DUH!...it's well worth $3 to have someone you trust watch your kid for an extra 15-30 minutes, while you run errands, work a bit more, pick up some milk at the store, etc. They grossly underestimated the value of that extra time!
...or that extra bear, if you take the analogy back to my story above.
So, Innernets, chime in!
Was the Bear-Buying Dad:
a) A savvy businessmen who knew a good opportunity when he saw it
b) A selfish dude who stole other kids' opportunity to bring home a bear
c) A bear-loving freak
*All apologies to the way-more-smarter-than-I authors of Freakonomics.
I didn't have my wallet with me, so I inquired, "how long will the bears be on sale?". "All week" was the answer.
So, I traipsed into daycare this afternoon, wallet in hand, ready to claim my bear. I had promised one to Goofy Junior the previous day, when he saw the aforementioned Table o' Bears.
But, when I entered the building....an empty table greeted me. No bears. No signs. Where the #&*% were the bears?! I asked Daycare Worker #1....no idea. I asked Daycare Worker #2...and she had the answer.
Some dad had done the math. He multiplied the price of the bears, times the cost of each bear, and compared that with the cost of one week of daycare. And....
The bastard bought all the bears. All of them. Every last fucking bear.
I think my jaw hit the floor....and I was immediately conflicted by two emotions:
a) Shock. He bought all the bears?! What about MY bear? How would I explain to GJ that some cheap dork bought all the bears?
then...
b) Jealousy. Why didn't *I* think of this? I could have gotten a cheaper week of daycare. Dammit.
Then I thought further...The dude actually helped the daycare achieve their goal...they DID sell all the bears. And they did get the donation for charity.
But...what about us "late parents" who didn't have their wallet on Monday? We have money burning a hole in our pockets for a bear. We want a bear dammit!
If you've read the book, "Freakonomics", this is a lot like the after-hours daycare scenario. A daycare had a problem with parents picking up late, so they decided to start charging for late pickups. They decided to charge $3 for a late pickups. Late pickups promptly went up. Yes, up!
As any parent reading this could tell you, well, DUH!...it's well worth $3 to have someone you trust watch your kid for an extra 15-30 minutes, while you run errands, work a bit more, pick up some milk at the store, etc. They grossly underestimated the value of that extra time!
...or that extra bear, if you take the analogy back to my story above.
So, Innernets, chime in!
Was the Bear-Buying Dad:
a) A savvy businessmen who knew a good opportunity when he saw it
b) A selfish dude who stole other kids' opportunity to bring home a bear
c) A bear-loving freak
*All apologies to the way-more-smarter-than-I authors of Freakonomics.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
We've got to move it, move it...
Moving. Ugh. That should be the content of this post. But I will elaborate, because I wanna.
We headed to closing Thursday afternoon. After circling the block several times in search of the title company, I called and realized they gave us the wrong address. Fortunately, real address was fairly close to wrong address.
Signed piles of documents. Got to the Big Boy document (HUD-1). Numbers were wrong. Not in our favor, of course. Much calling and emailing ensued. Finally numbers were right. In our favor. Lady assisting us asked if I was an Accountant. "You are very detailed," she said. * I wondered how many people just sign the docs and don't actually READ them. Scary.
Left closing table. Went to This Old House (TOH) and loaded up some things to bring to This New House (TNH). Also grabbed Goofy Junior, so he could feel like he was "Moving" and not "Being Moved".**
Dropped off stuff at TNH, went to dinner.
Went back to TOH, put Junior to bed. Then the fun started. Packing, packing, packing. Moving boxes into the garage. Separating what Movers got to move versus what we got to move. In the end, there was way too much stuff for us to move. Making mental note for next time we move. Ow, my aching back.
Anyway. Next morning 5:00am: Up and at 'em! Much disconnecting: TV, stereo, computer, fridge, washer, dryer, sanity.
Movers showed up at 8:15am. At 9:00am, one mover somehow tripped, and in the process broke his ankle and our entertainment center. Let the fun begin!
We gave Broken Mover an icepack and waited for Replacement for Broken Mover. For the rest of the day, many jokes were made between the other movers regarding Broken Mover. "Ouch, I think I broke my ankle" was the joke of the day. I suppose you have to have tough skin to be mover.
Then we are at TNH, with all our Stuff. Ridiculous amounts of Stuff. Still packed. Staring at us, waiting. We collapsed in a heap of sweaty, tired Goofiness. 10 minutes later, Grammy and Grampy Goofy showed up. Bearing more Stuff. AAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!
After my nervous breakdown, we made some coffee and had cake.
The End
* Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!
** NOTE: This is a BIG DEAL to a toddler. They want to know The Plan. If they don't know The Plan, much whining and crying may occur. And yeah, it's a PITA sometimes, but always worth to include him.
We headed to closing Thursday afternoon. After circling the block several times in search of the title company, I called and realized they gave us the wrong address. Fortunately, real address was fairly close to wrong address.
Signed piles of documents. Got to the Big Boy document (HUD-1). Numbers were wrong. Not in our favor, of course. Much calling and emailing ensued. Finally numbers were right. In our favor. Lady assisting us asked if I was an Accountant. "You are very detailed," she said. * I wondered how many people just sign the docs and don't actually READ them. Scary.
Left closing table. Went to This Old House (TOH) and loaded up some things to bring to This New House (TNH). Also grabbed Goofy Junior, so he could feel like he was "Moving" and not "Being Moved".**
Dropped off stuff at TNH, went to dinner.
Went back to TOH, put Junior to bed. Then the fun started. Packing, packing, packing. Moving boxes into the garage. Separating what Movers got to move versus what we got to move. In the end, there was way too much stuff for us to move. Making mental note for next time we move. Ow, my aching back.
Anyway. Next morning 5:00am: Up and at 'em! Much disconnecting: TV, stereo, computer, fridge, washer, dryer, sanity.
Movers showed up at 8:15am. At 9:00am, one mover somehow tripped, and in the process broke his ankle and our entertainment center. Let the fun begin!
We gave Broken Mover an icepack and waited for Replacement for Broken Mover. For the rest of the day, many jokes were made between the other movers regarding Broken Mover. "Ouch, I think I broke my ankle" was the joke of the day. I suppose you have to have tough skin to be mover.
Then we are at TNH, with all our Stuff. Ridiculous amounts of Stuff. Still packed. Staring at us, waiting. We collapsed in a heap of sweaty, tired Goofiness. 10 minutes later, Grammy and Grampy Goofy showed up. Bearing more Stuff. AAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!
After my nervous breakdown, we made some coffee and had cake.
The End
* Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!
** NOTE: This is a BIG DEAL to a toddler. They want to know The Plan. If they don't know The Plan, much whining and crying may occur. And yeah, it's a PITA sometimes, but always worth to include him.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Cake Mania...Redux
So after installing the "Cake Mania" trial program on both my laptop and desktop, and playing the full (but not nearly long enough to satisfy) one hour, I am now "Cake Mania"-less. Cold turkey. No shivering and sweating yet, but close.
I want the colorful little characters to visit my bakery. I want to guess what they will order and make a cake BEFORE they order it. I want to upgrade my slow loafers to the speedier "Cloud Walker" versions. I want to speed around and make, frost and deliver their cake to them. I want to see the little delivery guy character pump his animated fist in the air after I gift him his cake.
Ah, the joys of being a computer game addict.
I thought I had figured out how to beat the system. I would just keep playing. SURELY, the game would not crap out in the middle of a round, right? If I could keep all 5 of my lives (I'll depart with modesty for a sec and tell you that it was pretty easy to do), I could just leave the game up and keep playing. FYI - this works for Bookworm.
But, alas, half-way into the round with the vampires, THE BLACK SCREEN OF THE TRIAL ENDING BADNESS appeared.
After I was finished cursing like a sailor, I tried to hack it. Maybe I could uninstall and reinstall. Maybe change my system date. FYI - these techniques work on some other trial programs, but you didn't hear that here. (wink)
I was stumped. I was cake-less. Customer-less. Oven-less and frosting-less. No air-pumping delivery man. Big bummer.
Oh yeah, I guess I could pay the 20 bucks for the real version, but that's like cheating right? ;-)
I want the colorful little characters to visit my bakery. I want to guess what they will order and make a cake BEFORE they order it. I want to upgrade my slow loafers to the speedier "Cloud Walker" versions. I want to speed around and make, frost and deliver their cake to them. I want to see the little delivery guy character pump his animated fist in the air after I gift him his cake.
Ah, the joys of being a computer game addict.
I thought I had figured out how to beat the system. I would just keep playing. SURELY, the game would not crap out in the middle of a round, right? If I could keep all 5 of my lives (I'll depart with modesty for a sec and tell you that it was pretty easy to do), I could just leave the game up and keep playing. FYI - this works for Bookworm.
But, alas, half-way into the round with the vampires, THE BLACK SCREEN OF THE TRIAL ENDING BADNESS appeared.
After I was finished cursing like a sailor, I tried to hack it. Maybe I could uninstall and reinstall. Maybe change my system date. FYI - these techniques work on some other trial programs, but you didn't hear that here. (wink)
I was stumped. I was cake-less. Customer-less. Oven-less and frosting-less. No air-pumping delivery man. Big bummer.
Oh yeah, I guess I could pay the 20 bucks for the real version, but that's like cheating right? ;-)
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Best "Wastes of Time" 2007
I had about 15 minutes of spare time last Thursday night, so I started surfing. I quickly found a brainless arcade game site and looked up the most popular download..."Cake Mania". Mmmmm... I like cake. I thought I'd check it out.
I downloaded the free trial and ONE HOUR LATER my time ran out. Gah! This game is addictive, fun and easy.
Jill, our diligent baking hero, must keep her customers happy by supplying them with the cake that they ordered. If she takes too long, the customer storms out of the shop. If she makes them happy, they give her tips. Kinda like real life, eh?
She can upgrade her kitchen by buying faster ovens, faster icing machines and faster shoes. Also, she can make more profitable cakes by buying candle, wedding and retirement decorations.
I might actually cough up 20 bucks to buy the real game. Yes, it's that good.
Check it:
http://www.cakemania.org/
Don't like cake? Check out Bookworm, my now second-favorite addictive game:
http://www.popcap.com/gamepopup.php?theGame=bookworm
I downloaded the free trial and ONE HOUR LATER my time ran out. Gah! This game is addictive, fun and easy.
Jill, our diligent baking hero, must keep her customers happy by supplying them with the cake that they ordered. If she takes too long, the customer storms out of the shop. If she makes them happy, they give her tips. Kinda like real life, eh?
She can upgrade her kitchen by buying faster ovens, faster icing machines and faster shoes. Also, she can make more profitable cakes by buying candle, wedding and retirement decorations.
I might actually cough up 20 bucks to buy the real game. Yes, it's that good.
Check it:
http://www.cakemania.org/
Don't like cake? Check out Bookworm, my now second-favorite addictive game:
http://www.popcap.com/gamepopup.php?theGame=bookworm
I'm a loser, baby, so why don't you kill me?
Over the past three months, I've:
Lost my renter for my rehab house
Lost the buyer for my current house
Lost my boss (and this is a decidedly BAD thing)
Lost my temper...too many times to count
Lost my ability to connect to work from home (again, this is BAD, since I know have to BE there to work...how old-school is that?)
Lost touch with several good friends (again with the BAD)
Alllllmost lost a treasured co-worker
Lost contact with my much beloved husband (who is launching a new brand at his company and works like 50 hours per week...something I've never seen him do)
Lost my motivation for my current training goal
(almost) Lost my sanity
But...since I'm the Eternal Optimist (look it up in the dictionary and you will see my picture!), I also:
Gained a new goal (become a runner. still have to chuckle at this until it actually happens)
Gained a good friend at work
Gained an alliance w/ my boss at work (definitely a GREAT thing!)
Gained several potential buyers for our house (and we are not giving as many concessions this time...the gloves are on now, folks)
Will not have to travel to Russia in the middle of winter (yee-ha...this is big!)
Gained control over my donut addiction. New goal: No donuts until June. You might laugh, but this is a HARD goal for me. Krispy Kreme's a-callin', but I ain't answerin'.
Didn't lose my love for a good movie. Two "must-sees": "The Illusionist" and "Invincible". Illusionist is brilliant; Invincible is inspiring.
Gained the knowledge that Stephen King's son (Joe Hill) is a superb writer...almost on-par with dad. Check out "Heart-Shaped Box" if you are a doubter.
And gained perspective.
My last fortune cookie said: Things are hardest just before the summit.
My, how true this is. So where's the fucking summit already?!
Lost my renter for my rehab house
Lost the buyer for my current house
Lost my boss (and this is a decidedly BAD thing)
Lost my temper...too many times to count
Lost my ability to connect to work from home (again, this is BAD, since I know have to BE there to work...how old-school is that?)
Lost touch with several good friends (again with the BAD)
Alllllmost lost a treasured co-worker
Lost contact with my much beloved husband (who is launching a new brand at his company and works like 50 hours per week...something I've never seen him do)
Lost my motivation for my current training goal
(almost) Lost my sanity
But...since I'm the Eternal Optimist (look it up in the dictionary and you will see my picture!), I also:
Gained a new goal (become a runner. still have to chuckle at this until it actually happens)
Gained a good friend at work
Gained an alliance w/ my boss at work (definitely a GREAT thing!)
Gained several potential buyers for our house (and we are not giving as many concessions this time...the gloves are on now, folks)
Will not have to travel to Russia in the middle of winter (yee-ha...this is big!)
Gained control over my donut addiction. New goal: No donuts until June. You might laugh, but this is a HARD goal for me. Krispy Kreme's a-callin', but I ain't answerin'.
Didn't lose my love for a good movie. Two "must-sees": "The Illusionist" and "Invincible". Illusionist is brilliant; Invincible is inspiring.
Gained the knowledge that Stephen King's son (Joe Hill) is a superb writer...almost on-par with dad. Check out "Heart-Shaped Box" if you are a doubter.
And gained perspective.
My last fortune cookie said: Things are hardest just before the summit.
My, how true this is. So where's the fucking summit already?!
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Thoughts on a Snowy Tuesday
Work Realization #1: I spent today working from home (affectionately called WFH in our office, as opposed to WTF or WWJD). I realized that work can be as frustrating, if not more so, at home than in the office. It didn't help hearing the laughter of the kids sledding outside as I was on conference call after conference call, working backwards instead of forwards. Discuss amongst yourselves.
Lessons from the Young #1: The struggle for power and control starts young. Every day when I drop Goofy Junior off at school, some kid comes up to me and proudly declares that they "HAVE THE PIG", and show me this stupid little plastic pig. The pig comes from some sort of farm playset. Why they chose the pig to represent power, I will never know. But the pig holds the key. The pig is the shit. The pig is the POWER. At any point in time, all the kids know which kid HAS THE PIG. The pig is much-coveted. So, next time I get a raise or promotion (or a really high score on Frogger), I'm going to scream, "I HAVE THE PIG". Ahem. Okay, maybe I'll just whisper it to myself. Or not. What's "THE PIG" in your world?
Food Find #1: In keeping with my personal training goal, I've been searching for a sweet treat that's half-way healthy and not full of calories. I discovered one! Keebler Right Bites - Sandies. Sandies are a shortbread-type cookie. The normal version is fully of nutritional crappiness and loads of calories. But this version has only 100 calories and they are actually good. Also, BONUS! No transfat and, per the label, "contains two percent or less of salt, high fructose corn syrup, natural flavor, oat fiber, butter (cream, salt), soy lecithin, baking soda".
Food Find #2: Barilla Pasta Plus. What's the "Plus", you ask? Only that these little pastas are chock-full of protein, fiber and omega-3 fatty acids. By looking at the ingredients, you can figure out how...they include lentils, chickpeas, flaxseed, egg whites and barley. So how to they taste? They are a little chewier than normal pasta (or maybe I just didn't cook them long enough), but good! Not, in any way, like whole wheat pasta. BLECK. That stuff is nasty.
Food Find #3: Classico Vodka Sauce (Now I'm a bit worried, as this flavor is not listed on Classico's website!). This stuff rocks. You can even put it on pasta made from lentils and it tastes good. Ha!
Unfortunate Food Find #1: Tubs of pre-made frosting have trans-fat....always. Try to find one that doesn't. I searched the entire 4-shelf area in my local Price Chopper and came away empty handed. Sometimes products can get around actually listing the transfat, if they can manipulate the portion size to a small enough amount. Obviously frosting couldn't do this because trans-fat is LISTED RIGHT ON THE LABEL. So, ever the dilligent researcher, I went in search of a homemade frosting recipe and I found this: Cream Cheese Frosting Recipe - No, it won't sit in your pantry for 6 months waiting for you, but it's easy, delish, and trans-fat-FREE.
Lessons from the Young #1: The struggle for power and control starts young. Every day when I drop Goofy Junior off at school, some kid comes up to me and proudly declares that they "HAVE THE PIG", and show me this stupid little plastic pig. The pig comes from some sort of farm playset. Why they chose the pig to represent power, I will never know. But the pig holds the key. The pig is the shit. The pig is the POWER. At any point in time, all the kids know which kid HAS THE PIG. The pig is much-coveted. So, next time I get a raise or promotion (or a really high score on Frogger), I'm going to scream, "I HAVE THE PIG". Ahem. Okay, maybe I'll just whisper it to myself. Or not. What's "THE PIG" in your world?
Food Find #1: In keeping with my personal training goal, I've been searching for a sweet treat that's half-way healthy and not full of calories. I discovered one! Keebler Right Bites - Sandies. Sandies are a shortbread-type cookie. The normal version is fully of nutritional crappiness and loads of calories. But this version has only 100 calories and they are actually good. Also, BONUS! No transfat and, per the label, "contains two percent or less of salt, high fructose corn syrup, natural flavor, oat fiber, butter (cream, salt), soy lecithin, baking soda".
Food Find #2: Barilla Pasta Plus. What's the "Plus", you ask? Only that these little pastas are chock-full of protein, fiber and omega-3 fatty acids. By looking at the ingredients, you can figure out how...they include lentils, chickpeas, flaxseed, egg whites and barley. So how to they taste? They are a little chewier than normal pasta (or maybe I just didn't cook them long enough), but good! Not, in any way, like whole wheat pasta. BLECK. That stuff is nasty.
Food Find #3: Classico Vodka Sauce (Now I'm a bit worried, as this flavor is not listed on Classico's website!). This stuff rocks. You can even put it on pasta made from lentils and it tastes good. Ha!
Unfortunate Food Find #1: Tubs of pre-made frosting have trans-fat....always. Try to find one that doesn't. I searched the entire 4-shelf area in my local Price Chopper and came away empty handed. Sometimes products can get around actually listing the transfat, if they can manipulate the portion size to a small enough amount. Obviously frosting couldn't do this because trans-fat is LISTED RIGHT ON THE LABEL. So, ever the dilligent researcher, I went in search of a homemade frosting recipe and I found this: Cream Cheese Frosting Recipe - No, it won't sit in your pantry for 6 months waiting for you, but it's easy, delish, and trans-fat-FREE.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
You know you are a geek....
...when a video about the Web gives you the shivers. But this one did. And it should give you the shivers too. Awesome stuff!
http://www.perceptric.com/blog/_archives/2007/2/11/2725655.html
http://www.perceptric.com/blog/_archives/2007/2/11/2725655.html
Monday, February 05, 2007
Restaurant Rant
Cagey, Arun (Cagey's 16 month old son) and I went to dinner last week at a family-friendly Italian restaurant...or so we thought. Since Goofy Junior is now 3-1/2, he's pretty adept at the restaurant gig. He doesn't need a booster, nor a sippy cup, nor a bib. So I've gotten out of the habit of worrying about him too much while eating out.
Cut to Italian restaurant: Helpful waiter (or so we thought) comes to table, inquiring about drink orders. We have kids, so we are ready to order everything at once and proceed to do so. Whoa! This threw him off-guard and he looked slightly peeved. But we managed to get our order in.
Bread? The bread has gotta come quick or the kids get restless. Bread? Hello, BREAD?! BREAD!?!?!?! Bread did not come. Wine came (yee-ha!), but no bread. Moms happy, kids not. Waiter asked if we would like him to bring crackers for kids. SURE! PLEASE! Something to put in their mouths so the napkins, plates, and salt shakers would stay out.
Here's the punchline....wait for it. Wait for it!
He comes out with two bowls of ice cream! And says he can't find crackers, will ice cream do. I think both Cagey's and my mouths hit the table right about the same time. Er, NO! HELL, NO!
Luckily the ice cream disappeared before the kids could figure out that it was meant for them. Then the bread mysteriously appeared and all was well.
Until it was time for the check. It was in the twilight zone with the bread. Kids were starting to meltdown from quickly approaching bedtime. Check? Kids up and running amok, burning off that extra energy from fighting sleep... CHECK?! Kids stumbling around in front of waitresses carrying large trays of hot food. CHECK!?!?!?!?
I could go on, but I think you get the picture. When parents and kids go out to eat, they are not interested in a four-course, leisurely meal. It's more like an air-strike. Get in, get out, and no one gets hurt. Efficiency is key. Waiters and waitresses that are keen to this get large tips. Dorky waiters with no clue bearing bowls of ice cream prior to dinner do not.
Take heed, service industry!
Cut to Italian restaurant: Helpful waiter (or so we thought) comes to table, inquiring about drink orders. We have kids, so we are ready to order everything at once and proceed to do so. Whoa! This threw him off-guard and he looked slightly peeved. But we managed to get our order in.
Bread? The bread has gotta come quick or the kids get restless. Bread? Hello, BREAD?! BREAD!?!?!?! Bread did not come. Wine came (yee-ha!), but no bread. Moms happy, kids not. Waiter asked if we would like him to bring crackers for kids. SURE! PLEASE! Something to put in their mouths so the napkins, plates, and salt shakers would stay out.
Here's the punchline....wait for it. Wait for it!
He comes out with two bowls of ice cream! And says he can't find crackers, will ice cream do. I think both Cagey's and my mouths hit the table right about the same time. Er, NO! HELL, NO!
Luckily the ice cream disappeared before the kids could figure out that it was meant for them. Then the bread mysteriously appeared and all was well.
Until it was time for the check. It was in the twilight zone with the bread. Kids were starting to meltdown from quickly approaching bedtime. Check? Kids up and running amok, burning off that extra energy from fighting sleep... CHECK?! Kids stumbling around in front of waitresses carrying large trays of hot food. CHECK!?!?!?!?
I could go on, but I think you get the picture. When parents and kids go out to eat, they are not interested in a four-course, leisurely meal. It's more like an air-strike. Get in, get out, and no one gets hurt. Efficiency is key. Waiters and waitresses that are keen to this get large tips. Dorky waiters with no clue bearing bowls of ice cream prior to dinner do not.
Take heed, service industry!
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Wednesday's Random Goofiness
(in no particular order)
- I am typically floating in Border's 20% off coupons, until I actually need one. Then there are none.
- I am pondering an ebook venture on eBay. Has anyone bought an ebook on eBay? Would you buy one if it was the right topic and price?
- An airline kicked a family off a flight when the 3-year-old daughter would not take her seat. She was "climbing under the seat and hitting the parents and wouldn't get in her seat". I agree with the airline's action. Do you?
- I told my personal trainer I needed a goal. Stupid! Stupid! Now I have to do 30 minutes of cardio 5 times per week for the next six weeks. It's been two days and I can't feel my butt anymore. And I can't eat donuts anymore. WHAA!
- Since we will be traveling to Russia again sometime this spring for our second adoption, I am re-taking a Russian language class. Russian is very easy when you are saying, "That is the dog."* and "My name is Goofy." But after only three weeks, we are conjugating verbs like mad and getting into things like genitive case, accusative case and dative case. Gah! Do I really need to be able to say, "I will read my professor's purple Russian book in the study, with the candlestick"?
- I still haven't done my 2005 taxes. How much trouble am I in?
-My favorite new website is Woot. They offer one deal, per day. It's typically a geeky-techy thing, like a gaming mouse, digital camera or Roboraptor. A sister site is Wine.Woot. Same thing, only wine and one deal per week (not day). I love the one thing per day model. What else could be sold this way? Books? Food items?
- I'm dyeing my hair purple on Friday. Just 'cause.
*funny language note: There are no articles in Russian (the, that, this, a...), so you basically say "That dog." instead of "That is the dog." If you want to ask whether that furry thing is indeed a dog, only your inflection changes... "That dog?" I imagine they do a lot of pointing in Russia.
- I am typically floating in Border's 20% off coupons, until I actually need one. Then there are none.
- I am pondering an ebook venture on eBay. Has anyone bought an ebook on eBay? Would you buy one if it was the right topic and price?
- An airline kicked a family off a flight when the 3-year-old daughter would not take her seat. She was "climbing under the seat and hitting the parents and wouldn't get in her seat". I agree with the airline's action. Do you?
- I told my personal trainer I needed a goal. Stupid! Stupid! Now I have to do 30 minutes of cardio 5 times per week for the next six weeks. It's been two days and I can't feel my butt anymore. And I can't eat donuts anymore. WHAA!
- Since we will be traveling to Russia again sometime this spring for our second adoption, I am re-taking a Russian language class. Russian is very easy when you are saying, "That is the dog."* and "My name is Goofy." But after only three weeks, we are conjugating verbs like mad and getting into things like genitive case, accusative case and dative case. Gah! Do I really need to be able to say, "I will read my professor's purple Russian book in the study, with the candlestick"?
- I still haven't done my 2005 taxes. How much trouble am I in?
-My favorite new website is Woot. They offer one deal, per day. It's typically a geeky-techy thing, like a gaming mouse, digital camera or Roboraptor. A sister site is Wine.Woot. Same thing, only wine and one deal per week (not day). I love the one thing per day model. What else could be sold this way? Books? Food items?
- I'm dyeing my hair purple on Friday. Just 'cause.
*funny language note: There are no articles in Russian (the, that, this, a...), so you basically say "That dog." instead of "That is the dog." If you want to ask whether that furry thing is indeed a dog, only your inflection changes... "That dog?" I imagine they do a lot of pointing in Russia.
Monday, January 15, 2007
A Quiet Month
Well, I've sure been quiet, huh? It all started with that darn "Blog Every Day For a Month" thing. I have this fear of committment, so I just gave up and waited it out until January.
So here I am.
Don't get me wrong, I've had plenty to blog about, let me tell ya.
Goofy's December/January in a nutshell:
- celebrated an anniversary (Good God...SIXTEEN YEARS!!)
- celebrated a birthday (Holy Moley...FORTY-ONE YEARS!!!!)
- felt very old, so took a nap
- took Goofy Junior to a Nutcracker Tea Party (where he announced during a lull in the action, "When I grow up....I want to be a Ballerina". I'm so proud)
- sold our house on the day before Christmas Eve (complete with visiting family members twiddling thumbs in living room as we signed paperwork with the buyer's agent)
- hosted Christmas dinner
- had a very quiet New Year's Eve at home (the first one ever, I think)
- bought a new house on New Year's Day
- had the buyers of our house get cold feet and back out THREE DAYS after we bought the new one
- had quick nervous breakdown wondering how this would all work out
- regrouped and had open house this past Sunday (in the sleet/ice storm - surprisingly, 1 person actually showed up)
- had inspection of rental house
- promptly failed inspection of rental house (electric still not working, water not turned on - picky, picky)
- took matters into my own hands and called city, power company and electrician and played the Whose Problem Is This? game for a few weeks
- finally got electric on (Yeah!)
- finally got water on (Yeah!)
- have two leaks in plumbing (Boo!)
- promptly turned water off (Boo!) and called plumber
- planned and executed company holiday party (shoot, this was easy compared to the rest of the month!)
So what have you all been up too? I've missed you all!
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Six Goofy Things About Goofy
Dang! I didn't run fast enough and Dorothy tagged me for this meme.
Here are the rules - Each player of this game starts with the "6 Weird Things about You." People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly.
I've modified the theme to "Six Goofy Things About Me". I've always got to be different...
Okay, drumroll, please...
1. I skipped second grade. While this might make you think I some sort of Smarty Pants, think again. Second grade is where you learn geography. I missed this, so I am very geographically-challenged. I remember when I was about 25 years old, playing Pictionary with some friends. I got the word "Montana" and was stumped about where that was. Yes, really. I drew a darn good picture of the US, then started drawing circles in the west coast region (I knew that much).
2. I grew up knowing there was no Santa. Yep. My parents never perpetuated the Santa Myth. I knew the whole time what was really going on. And I was cool with it. In fact, I've always held the belief that I would not lie to my kid(s) about Santa's existance. I would be very honest with them about the spirit of Christmas (the giving part, not the capitalist spend-fest part), and tell them that Santa was just a symbol for how cool it is to give other people stuff during this holiday. However (ahem.) there are lots of forces against me here. Namely, Gramma, Grandpa, daycare, and every other little kid around. Goofy Junior came home the other day sad and said, "if I'm not good, Santa won't bring me any gifts for Christmas". What parent would actually follow through on this threat? None. Then why do we make it?! Okay, probably more on this later...
3. Continuing with the holiday theme....I can't wrap presents. I never learned this skill. I am totally, completely, utterly inept at wrapping. Gift bags, you say? I can't figure those out either. Why don't the damn things come with instructions? Mine always end up looking like someone stuffed a used Kleenex in a paper bag. And the gift always shows. Drat!
4. I am good at word stuff. Not necessarily writing (obviously!), but mainly grammar and proofreading. I can find a typo in just about any document you can put in front of me.* I frequently find typos on the news (not too hard, if you notice that sort of thing). It's actually a curse and it drives me crazy. I was very close to majoring in English in college, until I realized I was destined for starvation and poverty if I did so.
My biggest pet peeve is when folks confuse plurals with possessives. For example, "Orange's on sale for 99 cents". Arg! This is wrong! It should be "Oranges on sale for 99 cents". You only use the apostrophe for possessives, like "Spike's oranges are on sale for 99 cents."
Also, I can do a Word Search puzzle faster than anyone around. Challenge me sometime and see!
5. I have a Food-with-a-Face problem. I can't eat any sort of animal that still looks like the live animal. For example, boiled shrimp. I can't eat them. They still look like they could hop off the cocktail glass, run out the door and jump into the sea. Eek. This is why I can't make the Thanksgiving Day turkey. The first year we made a turkey, Mr. Goofy was jokingly making the raw turkey do a little "can-can" dance with his hands. I had to leave the room and could hardly eat any turkey that year. Give me a nice, juicy, anonymous-looking steak any day. You can keep your creepy lobster, thank you very much. Shiver.
6. I have an addiction issue with video games. I'm not joking. Back in my twenties, my roommate got a Nintendo system. I called in sick for most of the week, until I had gotten little Mario all the way to the final level. I have to steer clear of games that have more than a few levels, because I just can't stop playing. I fell off the wagon a few times for Bookworm in the past few years. It's like Scrabble meets Tetris. There is no known end to this game. Believe me, I've played for days. Luckily, you can pause this game for things like eating and sleeping!
*Pleese Noot: These does nott meen that I myself donot make gramatikal errs or typoos. I try knot too, but shite happenes, folkes. :-)
Here are the rules - Each player of this game starts with the "6 Weird Things about You." People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly.
I've modified the theme to "Six Goofy Things About Me". I've always got to be different...
Okay, drumroll, please...
1. I skipped second grade. While this might make you think I some sort of Smarty Pants, think again. Second grade is where you learn geography. I missed this, so I am very geographically-challenged. I remember when I was about 25 years old, playing Pictionary with some friends. I got the word "Montana" and was stumped about where that was. Yes, really. I drew a darn good picture of the US, then started drawing circles in the west coast region (I knew that much).
2. I grew up knowing there was no Santa. Yep. My parents never perpetuated the Santa Myth. I knew the whole time what was really going on. And I was cool with it. In fact, I've always held the belief that I would not lie to my kid(s) about Santa's existance. I would be very honest with them about the spirit of Christmas (the giving part, not the capitalist spend-fest part), and tell them that Santa was just a symbol for how cool it is to give other people stuff during this holiday. However (ahem.) there are lots of forces against me here. Namely, Gramma, Grandpa, daycare, and every other little kid around. Goofy Junior came home the other day sad and said, "if I'm not good, Santa won't bring me any gifts for Christmas". What parent would actually follow through on this threat? None. Then why do we make it?! Okay, probably more on this later...
3. Continuing with the holiday theme....I can't wrap presents. I never learned this skill. I am totally, completely, utterly inept at wrapping. Gift bags, you say? I can't figure those out either. Why don't the damn things come with instructions? Mine always end up looking like someone stuffed a used Kleenex in a paper bag. And the gift always shows. Drat!
4. I am good at word stuff. Not necessarily writing (obviously!), but mainly grammar and proofreading. I can find a typo in just about any document you can put in front of me.* I frequently find typos on the news (not too hard, if you notice that sort of thing). It's actually a curse and it drives me crazy. I was very close to majoring in English in college, until I realized I was destined for starvation and poverty if I did so.
My biggest pet peeve is when folks confuse plurals with possessives. For example, "Orange's on sale for 99 cents". Arg! This is wrong! It should be "Oranges on sale for 99 cents". You only use the apostrophe for possessives, like "Spike's oranges are on sale for 99 cents."
Also, I can do a Word Search puzzle faster than anyone around. Challenge me sometime and see!
5. I have a Food-with-a-Face problem. I can't eat any sort of animal that still looks like the live animal. For example, boiled shrimp. I can't eat them. They still look like they could hop off the cocktail glass, run out the door and jump into the sea. Eek. This is why I can't make the Thanksgiving Day turkey. The first year we made a turkey, Mr. Goofy was jokingly making the raw turkey do a little "can-can" dance with his hands. I had to leave the room and could hardly eat any turkey that year. Give me a nice, juicy, anonymous-looking steak any day. You can keep your creepy lobster, thank you very much. Shiver.
6. I have an addiction issue with video games. I'm not joking. Back in my twenties, my roommate got a Nintendo system. I called in sick for most of the week, until I had gotten little Mario all the way to the final level. I have to steer clear of games that have more than a few levels, because I just can't stop playing. I fell off the wagon a few times for Bookworm in the past few years. It's like Scrabble meets Tetris. There is no known end to this game. Believe me, I've played for days. Luckily, you can pause this game for things like eating and sleeping!
*Pleese Noot: These does nott meen that I myself donot make gramatikal errs or typoos. I try knot too, but shite happenes, folkes. :-)
Thursday, November 23, 2006
A Tale of Two Turkeys
On this Thanksgiving Day morning, as I watch Mr. Goofy begin preparing the turkey*, I think back to the first Thanksgiving we hosted together, as a new couple.
If I think back to how long ago this actually happened, it will make me feel old. Suffice to say, we were young and dumb. But, of course, we were very eager to make an impression on the family. And we did, but probably not the one we had wanted. Anyway....
We would be having all of Mr. Goofy's family (aka Fam Goofy), which is 6 folks. Plus ourselves for a total of 8. We cleaned the house, we rounded up serving bowls, and I think we actually went out and bought two more chairs for our dining set. We were eager to please....
Then, the night before, we went out to buy the food. Do you see the flaw yet?
I had calculated that we needed a 20-pound turkey. NOTE: Today I know that the Rule of Thumb is 1 pound per person for a whole turkey, so this was a little overkill, to say the least.
We got to the store and went to the turkey bin. It was almost picked clean! We managed to find two 10-pounders and quickly claimed them for our own.**
Boy, folks really buy their turkeys early. How strange! Who has that much room in their fridge to keep a turkey for a week?
Do you see it coming? Do you?!
We got the turkeys home and realized our error...THEY WERE FROZEN SOLID! This was why folks bought the turkeys early...so there was time to thaw them.
We used the cold-water-in-the-sink method. But remember...we had two turkeys. And a small oven. So we figured we would cook one turkey for the family, then cook the other one for leftovers. Lemons from lemonade, you know??
So Mr. Goofy (not a morning person) got up at the butt-crack of dawn, figured out a stuffing recipe (the same one we use today!), prepared, stuffed and lovingly placed the turkey in the oven.
But, as luck would have it, Fam Goofy showed up 1 hour before the turkey was done. Starving. Whiny. Had we got any appetizers? No. Could they go get sandwiches? NO!
We kept the wolves at bay until the first turkey was done. But that hour was painful. It was like preparing a meal in front of 6 hungry tigers. They were actually pacing when the hour was up! But....
Tom Turkey was delicious. And Tanya came out in time for snacking later in the day. And everything else came out okay. I got some complaints about the pumpkin pie (Fam Goofy prefers apple, I found out), but they dealt well.
This year, it's just the 3 of us, since we are not traveling. And I bought a 13-pound turkey. Goofys never learn...
*Lest you think me lazy (ha!), don't worry...I continue to have responsibility for mashed potatoes, green bean casserole and any and all desserts (this year pumpkin-walnut bread and pumpkin pie). Mr. Goofy is simply better at the turkey/stuffing thing than I, hands down.
**I named them Tom and Tanya. This began my tradition of naming the frozen turkeys that we cook. What!?!? You don't do that? You're weird...
If I think back to how long ago this actually happened, it will make me feel old. Suffice to say, we were young and dumb. But, of course, we were very eager to make an impression on the family. And we did, but probably not the one we had wanted. Anyway....
We would be having all of Mr. Goofy's family (aka Fam Goofy), which is 6 folks. Plus ourselves for a total of 8. We cleaned the house, we rounded up serving bowls, and I think we actually went out and bought two more chairs for our dining set. We were eager to please....
Then, the night before, we went out to buy the food. Do you see the flaw yet?
I had calculated that we needed a 20-pound turkey. NOTE: Today I know that the Rule of Thumb is 1 pound per person for a whole turkey, so this was a little overkill, to say the least.
We got to the store and went to the turkey bin. It was almost picked clean! We managed to find two 10-pounders and quickly claimed them for our own.**
Boy, folks really buy their turkeys early. How strange! Who has that much room in their fridge to keep a turkey for a week?
Do you see it coming? Do you?!
We got the turkeys home and realized our error...THEY WERE FROZEN SOLID! This was why folks bought the turkeys early...so there was time to thaw them.
We used the cold-water-in-the-sink method. But remember...we had two turkeys. And a small oven. So we figured we would cook one turkey for the family, then cook the other one for leftovers. Lemons from lemonade, you know??
So Mr. Goofy (not a morning person) got up at the butt-crack of dawn, figured out a stuffing recipe (the same one we use today!), prepared, stuffed and lovingly placed the turkey in the oven.
But, as luck would have it, Fam Goofy showed up 1 hour before the turkey was done. Starving. Whiny. Had we got any appetizers? No. Could they go get sandwiches? NO!
We kept the wolves at bay until the first turkey was done. But that hour was painful. It was like preparing a meal in front of 6 hungry tigers. They were actually pacing when the hour was up! But....
Tom Turkey was delicious. And Tanya came out in time for snacking later in the day. And everything else came out okay. I got some complaints about the pumpkin pie (Fam Goofy prefers apple, I found out), but they dealt well.
This year, it's just the 3 of us, since we are not traveling. And I bought a 13-pound turkey. Goofys never learn...
*Lest you think me lazy (ha!), don't worry...I continue to have responsibility for mashed potatoes, green bean casserole and any and all desserts (this year pumpkin-walnut bread and pumpkin pie). Mr. Goofy is simply better at the turkey/stuffing thing than I, hands down.
**I named them Tom and Tanya. This began my tradition of naming the frozen turkeys that we cook. What!?!? You don't do that? You're weird...
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Goofy in the Land of Goofy
So I'm down in Orlando this week for a conference. I'm sure you are jealous, as I get to learn everything I've ever wanted to know about Data Warehousing. Yes, my friends, it's an alphabet soup kind of week...ETL, EDM, ERD, CDI, MDM. Oh, I could go on, but I'm already feeling selfish by bragging.
I have realized that I have a, let's say "unique" style of traveling. When I travel to a place I've never been before, I have a routine of sorts that I go through, so I feel comfortable. It's kind of like a dog turning around three times before he lays down to go to sleep.
When I get to the area around the hotel where I'm staying, I don't directly go to the hotel. Rather, I drive around and get a "lay of the land". If I'm going to be going to a place other than the hotel, I go find that place, in relation to my hotel. I also find some yummy-looking restaurants and a Coffee-Place-That-Is-Not-Starbucks. And a Walgreen's or Target, just in case I forgot something. THEN I go to my hotel and check-in.*
Once in my hotel, I immediately unpack. I don't know why. I use the excuse of "wrinkled clothes", but I think it's more of a nesting thing.
Once "nested", I check out the propaganda in the hotel room (visitor mags, city books, etc.), then I go check out the hotel. I find the gym, the restaurants (man, you'd think I was worried about where my next meal comes from, huh?) and concierge. If there's a concierge, I go hit them up for area information (even though I've done research before even getting on the plane).
Okay, after putting this all out into the ether, I feel like a big dork. But it honestly just occurred to me that NOT EVERYONE DOES THIS! I felt like a travel agent today on a break giving several people directions to the hotel's best restaurant, the water taxi to the bar district (leaves every 15 minutes) and the pool. C'mon people, it's ORLANDO...you didn't even go check the pool out yet???
Okay, so I'm a Travel Freak. Or maybe a Travel Control Freak. But I'll never be a Lost Travel Control Freak.
*I typically only do this while traveling ALONE. Mainly because Mr. Goofy relentlessly makes fun of me for doing it. Until we get lost and I'm there with the "I told you so". Ha!
I have realized that I have a, let's say "unique" style of traveling. When I travel to a place I've never been before, I have a routine of sorts that I go through, so I feel comfortable. It's kind of like a dog turning around three times before he lays down to go to sleep.
When I get to the area around the hotel where I'm staying, I don't directly go to the hotel. Rather, I drive around and get a "lay of the land". If I'm going to be going to a place other than the hotel, I go find that place, in relation to my hotel. I also find some yummy-looking restaurants and a Coffee-Place-That-Is-Not-Starbucks. And a Walgreen's or Target, just in case I forgot something. THEN I go to my hotel and check-in.*
Once in my hotel, I immediately unpack. I don't know why. I use the excuse of "wrinkled clothes", but I think it's more of a nesting thing.
Once "nested", I check out the propaganda in the hotel room (visitor mags, city books, etc.), then I go check out the hotel. I find the gym, the restaurants (man, you'd think I was worried about where my next meal comes from, huh?) and concierge. If there's a concierge, I go hit them up for area information (even though I've done research before even getting on the plane).
Okay, after putting this all out into the ether, I feel like a big dork. But it honestly just occurred to me that NOT EVERYONE DOES THIS! I felt like a travel agent today on a break giving several people directions to the hotel's best restaurant, the water taxi to the bar district (leaves every 15 minutes) and the pool. C'mon people, it's ORLANDO...you didn't even go check the pool out yet???
Okay, so I'm a Travel Freak. Or maybe a Travel Control Freak. But I'll never be a Lost Travel Control Freak.
*I typically only do this while traveling ALONE. Mainly because Mr. Goofy relentlessly makes fun of me for doing it. Until we get lost and I'm there with the "I told you so". Ha!
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