What the what? Last week I wrote and posted (or so I thought) a post about the Brady Bunch. Where the heck is it?
I'll see if I can recreate it. But it's never as good the second time around. Sheesh.
***********
Does anyone else love the Brady Bunch? I confess, I do. Love it. I loved it as a kid, and I love it now. I have the DVR set up to record it every day and I put it on when I'm doing mindless stuff. Like folding endless baskets of laundry.
I'm finding the show pretty timeless. Even though it was 40+ years ago (eeek!). The kids still get into all sorts of scrapes and predicaments. With the exception of the clothing and the occasional "groovy," I feel like I could be watching a show filmed in this era.
I've also decided that Mike and Carol had it all going on in terms of parenting. They never shout, they tell their kids when they're total knuckleheads, and they follow through. You made a bad choice and now you'll have to live with the consequences of your behavior.
Really, I feel like there isn't enough follow through these days as I see on a daily basis right now at ski school. "Johnny, don't keep kicking the wall of ski school in your big heavy ski boots. Johnny, stop that please. Johnny..." (Parent then looks at me and smiles.) "We just flew in and he's so tired."
Personally, I think Johnny needs a big heavy ski boot up his own ass to get his attention, but maybe that's just me.
Anyway, watching the Brady Bunch as an adult has been a totally different experience than watching it as a kid (which I'm assuming I remember from reruns because the show ran from 1969 to 1974 and I'm guessing I didn't watch it when I was that young). When I was a kid, I was more into the episodes where the family was on some sort of adventure -- the Grand Canyon trip, which spanned three episodes and found the Bradys locked in a ghost town jail by an old prospector (I was cracking up watching this. They set up their tents in the middle of the street. They also had a pop up camper. Good thing they had tents, too, because how would they all, AND Alice, fit in that camper? Questions like this trouble me.).
And who didn't love the Hawaii episodes? You just KNEW Peter was asking for trouble with that tiki idol around his neck and saying, "Bad luck, come and get me!" I have tried to never utter that phrase ever since. And wasn't Vincent Price just SO SCARY?
Possibly one of my sisters' and my favorite episodes was when they went to the amusement park and Mike's architectural drawings got mixed up with Jan's Yogi Bear poster and then lost on a ride. Then the family has to run through the whole park to look for the plans and return them in time for Mike's big presentation. We loved it so much because it was filmed at King's Island, an amusement park about two hours from where we lived and a favorite summer destination. We knew that park like the back of our hands. I wonder if the old-timey cars are still there?
Anyway, I have discovered that I dig Mike and Carol's parenting style, even when they flubbed up a little. Like the time Mike punishes Marcia for sneaking out of the house at night. He's all mad at her until he discovers she did it to mail a letter nominating him for father of the year. He did get a little stern with her, but he never yelled. I'm not a big yeller myself. Unless I have PMS. We never saw Carol experience PMS.
Even when the kids really do create havoc, like the time they play all the practical jokes and end up scaring Alice so badly she breaks the bust of Mike's head that Carol made, there really isn't any yelling. Punishments and consequences are given out, but no one is beaten within an inch of their lives, which is how I might feel if I had six kids.
So maybe the Brady Bunch isn't that realistic. These was one episode where Carol is all flustered and talks about how busy she is. Um, Carol, you do have six kids, but you have a full-time housekeeper who appears to do all of the cooking and cleaning for you. And you clearly have time to make a bust of your husband, produce elaborate plays and school projects with the kids, like a film about the Pilgrims. If my kids came home and told me we had to produce a movie about the landing of the Mayflower, I'd probably send nasty e-mails to my kid's teacher. So Carol, how is it that you are so busy even though you have Alice? That part mystifies me.
One of my other favorite episodes: the one where Marsha has to try and get Davy Jones to play at her prom (even though she's only in middle school). I actually saved that one on the DVR because they put a nice little tribute to Davy at the end :) I saved it for Eamonn who was very sad about Davy Jones' recent passing.
That's something Carol would do for Mike. You know, if DVRs existed back then.
Got a favorite Brady Bunch episode? Let's hear it!
Showing posts with label miscellaneous. Show all posts
Showing posts with label miscellaneous. Show all posts
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Thursday, February 9, 2012
L U V Madonna!
I have been cracking up at all of the articles and comments floating around the Internet this week about Madonna's half-time performance at the Super Bowl.
I'm going to come clean here and tell you that I loved it. LOVED IT! I thought it was showy and fun, and my sister and I grooved through the whole thing.
Did she lip sync? I'm pretty sure she did (although the kids caught onto it first and had to convince us). But so what? I think it was proven by the Black Eyed Peas that the acoustics, no matter where the Super Bowl is played, just really aren't that great in these huge stadiums. Besides, I'm one of those people who wants to hear the music like it sounds on my iPod!
Did she slip? Yes, but I can't even walk in boots like that, let alone dance.
Did her back up dancers assist her when she was doing her moves? Yes, I'm pretty sure that was part of the dance routine. I don't think she was there to try out for the 2012 Women's Olympic Gymnastics Team. I could be wrong though. Think Geena Davis.
All in all I thought the whole thing was fun and entertaining, and I laughed when someone said, "I didn't get the gladiators." And someone else said, "I didn't get the pom poms." It was just a show. I don't think we were supposed to find any existential meaning in it.
But I could be wrong.
Now I totally want to see her on tour with my hair up in a bandana, black leggings, mini skirt, and arms full of black rubber bracelets. Because I L U V Madonna, and I think I always will.
I'm going to come clean here and tell you that I loved it. LOVED IT! I thought it was showy and fun, and my sister and I grooved through the whole thing.
Did she lip sync? I'm pretty sure she did (although the kids caught onto it first and had to convince us). But so what? I think it was proven by the Black Eyed Peas that the acoustics, no matter where the Super Bowl is played, just really aren't that great in these huge stadiums. Besides, I'm one of those people who wants to hear the music like it sounds on my iPod!
Did she slip? Yes, but I can't even walk in boots like that, let alone dance.
Did her back up dancers assist her when she was doing her moves? Yes, I'm pretty sure that was part of the dance routine. I don't think she was there to try out for the 2012 Women's Olympic Gymnastics Team. I could be wrong though. Think Geena Davis.
All in all I thought the whole thing was fun and entertaining, and I laughed when someone said, "I didn't get the gladiators." And someone else said, "I didn't get the pom poms." It was just a show. I don't think we were supposed to find any existential meaning in it.
But I could be wrong.
Now I totally want to see her on tour with my hair up in a bandana, black leggings, mini skirt, and arms full of black rubber bracelets. Because I L U V Madonna, and I think I always will.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Vanity Sizing. It Does an Ego Good.
First, a brief announcement. I haven't had the excision on my arm yet (see the post below this one). That first dermatologist appointment was really more of a check with the excision--nice word--scheduled for Dec. 8. Just an update because several of you have texted or e-mailed. But for now, I still have all of the skin on my arm. Except for that little bit they took off originally.
And now, for today's post...
As I have lost weight over this past year, I have also, obviously, lost clothing sizes. Every once in awhile I like to go into a clothing store and try things on to see what size I am. Except that I'm left still not really knowing.
Not too long ago, I read in People magazine (yes, I confess to being a long-time subscriber. Don't judge me.) about Kirstie Allie's weight loss and how she is now a size 6. And then Tim Gunn (I think) was in the same issue saying, "Yeah, Kirstie looks great, but she's no size six," or something to that effect. (And when I looked at the pictures, I thought the same thing.)
Tim Gunn then went on to explain about vanity sizing--a term I had heard before but was selectively filtering out because yes, I do want to believe I'm that smaller size--and how it's rampant today. I wonder if a lot of it has to do with the, uh, upsizing of our nation's waistlines. Maybe people will buy more clothes if they can fit in a "14" versus an 18? I don't know what the logic is. I'm just guessing here.
If you Google vanity sizing, you'll get a ton of different opinions. Wikipedia feels vanity sizing is alive and well. Others say it's a myth. I feel like I remember my mom telling me that more expensive brands ran larger than cheaper brands, and I certainly have felt this has been true over the years.
But I have to say, I'm definitely feeling like vanity sizing is going on. You can't argue with Tim Gunn's facts. In the article he quoted actual measurements and how what was a 10 in the 1980s is inches smaller than what a 10 is now. It's vexing.
What do you think? Do you notice that you can buy smaller clothes these days? And what is your opinion on vanity sizing? I admit I like seeing the smaller sizes. Vanity at its finest!
And now, for today's post...
As I have lost weight over this past year, I have also, obviously, lost clothing sizes. Every once in awhile I like to go into a clothing store and try things on to see what size I am. Except that I'm left still not really knowing.
Not too long ago, I read in People magazine (yes, I confess to being a long-time subscriber. Don't judge me.) about Kirstie Allie's weight loss and how she is now a size 6. And then Tim Gunn (I think) was in the same issue saying, "Yeah, Kirstie looks great, but she's no size six," or something to that effect. (And when I looked at the pictures, I thought the same thing.)
Tim Gunn then went on to explain about vanity sizing--a term I had heard before but was selectively filtering out because yes, I do want to believe I'm that smaller size--and how it's rampant today. I wonder if a lot of it has to do with the, uh, upsizing of our nation's waistlines. Maybe people will buy more clothes if they can fit in a "14" versus an 18? I don't know what the logic is. I'm just guessing here.
If you Google vanity sizing, you'll get a ton of different opinions. Wikipedia feels vanity sizing is alive and well. Others say it's a myth. I feel like I remember my mom telling me that more expensive brands ran larger than cheaper brands, and I certainly have felt this has been true over the years.
But I have to say, I'm definitely feeling like vanity sizing is going on. You can't argue with Tim Gunn's facts. In the article he quoted actual measurements and how what was a 10 in the 1980s is inches smaller than what a 10 is now. It's vexing.
What do you think? Do you notice that you can buy smaller clothes these days? And what is your opinion on vanity sizing? I admit I like seeing the smaller sizes. Vanity at its finest!
Monday, November 7, 2011
Public Service Announcement: Wear Sunscreen
I'm pretty fair skinned. In fact, someone once called me the whitest woman in America. That may be pretty true. Unfortunately, despite my light hair, light eyes, light skin, I spent a good majority of my youth on a boat or at the pool, in the hot summer sun, not wearing sunscreen. Did sunscreen even exist in the 70s?
And then I chose the very inappropriate college years job of lifeguard. Again, not wearing sunscreen. Did anyone wear sunscreen in the late 80s?
So my life in the sun has netted me a bunch of freckles and moles, many of which I've had removed. Some of which were basal cell carcinomas, which isn't really that scary.
About two weeks ago I went in for yet another mole removal. I wasn't really worried, except that this time, I should have been worried. Yep, I had a freaking melanoma on my upper right arm.
So tomorrow I will go have a larger patch of skin removed. I'm a little worried, mostly because I have no pain threshold and what if I cry in the doctor's office over having a little patch of skin cut off? That would be embarrassing. I will try to soldier on. Maybe I'll post gruesome pictures.
Or not. I don't have a stomach for such things.
Mostly I'm telling you this because I almost waited too long to have this thing looked at, and actually my doctor saw it on my arm as a fluke when I had gone in for something else entirely.
Health care in this country (yes, we're not reduced to a diatribe about health care) is in a sorry state--that's obvious. When you don't go to the doctor because you're worried that something will then go in your health record that will then preclude you from getting health care (like I did), you can end up in a pretty serious situation. Don't do that.
So, wear your sunscreen, stay out of the sun, wear a big floppy hat and long sleeves, and for the love of all that is holy, stay out of tanning beds (which, in my defense, I have only ever used one once)--that whole "I'm just getting a base tan" is a total myth. You're fricking radiating your skin. It's no better than the sun--in fact, it's worse. Anything else you hear is brought to you directly by the people who own tanning beds. And what? You want to end up looking like a leather boot? Stop. Immediately.
And if you feel like something isn't right, go to the doctor. Get your annual pap smear (sorry, men). Get your mammogram. Go to the dermatologist. Hey, you could really have some fun and go for a colonoscopy when the time comes. There's something to look forward to!
I'm just asking you to take care of yourself so you don't wake up dead in the morning, OK?
End of diatribe.
And then I chose the very inappropriate college years job of lifeguard. Again, not wearing sunscreen. Did anyone wear sunscreen in the late 80s?
So my life in the sun has netted me a bunch of freckles and moles, many of which I've had removed. Some of which were basal cell carcinomas, which isn't really that scary.
About two weeks ago I went in for yet another mole removal. I wasn't really worried, except that this time, I should have been worried. Yep, I had a freaking melanoma on my upper right arm.
So tomorrow I will go have a larger patch of skin removed. I'm a little worried, mostly because I have no pain threshold and what if I cry in the doctor's office over having a little patch of skin cut off? That would be embarrassing. I will try to soldier on. Maybe I'll post gruesome pictures.
Or not. I don't have a stomach for such things.
Mostly I'm telling you this because I almost waited too long to have this thing looked at, and actually my doctor saw it on my arm as a fluke when I had gone in for something else entirely.
Health care in this country (yes, we're not reduced to a diatribe about health care) is in a sorry state--that's obvious. When you don't go to the doctor because you're worried that something will then go in your health record that will then preclude you from getting health care (like I did), you can end up in a pretty serious situation. Don't do that.
So, wear your sunscreen, stay out of the sun, wear a big floppy hat and long sleeves, and for the love of all that is holy, stay out of tanning beds (which, in my defense, I have only ever used one once)--that whole "I'm just getting a base tan" is a total myth. You're fricking radiating your skin. It's no better than the sun--in fact, it's worse. Anything else you hear is brought to you directly by the people who own tanning beds. And what? You want to end up looking like a leather boot? Stop. Immediately.
And if you feel like something isn't right, go to the doctor. Get your annual pap smear (sorry, men). Get your mammogram. Go to the dermatologist. Hey, you could really have some fun and go for a colonoscopy when the time comes. There's something to look forward to!
I'm just asking you to take care of yourself so you don't wake up dead in the morning, OK?
End of diatribe.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Reality for the Rest of Us
For the longest time, I've been annoyed by the Biggest Loser. That doesn't mean I don't watch it--I admit I do--but I do find myself annoyed. Why should these people get special nutrition and fitness treatment because they've let themselves totally go to hell?
And so that got me thinking. Why are reality shows always geared to the extreme?
OK, so it's probably because it's more interesting that way.
But in my head I started concocting all sorts of reality shows that would involve normal people.
Would normal people want to be on reality TV? Have I ever mentioned that The Bachelorette's Trista and Ryan live in our valley? And then there was another girl from here on the Bachelor. There you have our local reality claims to fame.
So anyway, these are the shows I came up with for us normal people.
Medium-Sized Losers. This is targeted at those of us who are just marginally overweight. We need help, too! Wouldn't it be great to be swept away to the Medium-Sized Loser Ranch where someone helps you lose those last nagging 10 pounds? Yes, it would be hard work, but you'd get to totally concentrate on you and get all ripped and awesome looking without having to be morbidly obese as a prerequisite. Sign me up. Even if it means having to endure Jillian (who isn't actually on the show anymore).
The Amazing Sports Race. This race will pit teams of parents against one another as they try to escort multiple children to sports practices or games, and other various and sundry after school activities on different sides of town at conflicting times. Participants will be graded on their ability to run from game to game, often of differing sports, all while remembering what child is where, the rules of the game at each respective event which includes what to yell (Goal! Touchdown! Penalty! Foul!) without sounding like you clearly don't know what sport you're watching at any given moment. Because trust me, people do give you a look if you yell "Foul!" at a hockey game.
Motherhood Survivor. This could also be Fatherhood Survivor or Parenthood Survivor. I chose Motherhood because I am, in fact, a mother. Really, this is the mother of all reality shows. In this show, somewhat like The Amazing Sports Race show, people will compete to have a day run as smoothly as possible. The tasks you must complete are: exercise at horrifically early morning hours, make breakfast at multiple times, pack lunches, pack snacks, walk children to school and/or drive carpool, complete a day of work, remember to eat, plan dinner, go to the grocery store, take out trash, clean a toilet or two, do several loads of laundry, answer recorded calls from political candidates, plan a birthday party, mail birthday cards to various and sundry relatives, perform volunteer work at one or more schools, attend at least one meeting (likely unpaid), run the vacuum, take out the trash, help with homework, nag children not to watch too much TV, get children into bed, read to children, do more work without falling asleep, have some sort of interaction with spouse, read 10 pages of a book without falling asleep.
If you make it through those items, you can go on to the second round whereby you will start adding additional items to your list--things like making and taking birthday treats to school, attending PTA, etc. But that's only if you're lucky enough.
Dancing With the Regular People (DWTRP). I'm going to come clean here and admit that in 2007, I pretty much watched the entire season of Dancing with the Stars. Does anyone else remember that season? That was the one when Heather Mills McCartney was on and I was dying to see if her leg might fly off when she did some of those dance moves. It didn't. What a letdown. But anyway, why is it that the stars get to go on the show, dance with the hot professionals (come ON, you cannot tell me that Maks guy is not the hottest thing ever! Ai yi yi.), lose weight and then have their careers revived. Again with the ratings and the stars. Whatever. Personally, I think it would be way exciting to pluck Debbie from Des Moines and Wilma from Wichita off the streets and throw them onto DWTRP and just see what happens. Everyone has a story and I bet if we got to know Debbie and Wilma and whoever else they dredge up, we'd all love it.
Secretly, I do have dreams of going on the real Amazing Race with Eamonn. And in my dreams he does all of the stuff where you jump off buildings or bungee because I'd probably pee my pants on the way down. And that wouldn't look good on TV at all.
And so that got me thinking. Why are reality shows always geared to the extreme?
OK, so it's probably because it's more interesting that way.
But in my head I started concocting all sorts of reality shows that would involve normal people.
Would normal people want to be on reality TV? Have I ever mentioned that The Bachelorette's Trista and Ryan live in our valley? And then there was another girl from here on the Bachelor. There you have our local reality claims to fame.
So anyway, these are the shows I came up with for us normal people.
Medium-Sized Losers. This is targeted at those of us who are just marginally overweight. We need help, too! Wouldn't it be great to be swept away to the Medium-Sized Loser Ranch where someone helps you lose those last nagging 10 pounds? Yes, it would be hard work, but you'd get to totally concentrate on you and get all ripped and awesome looking without having to be morbidly obese as a prerequisite. Sign me up. Even if it means having to endure Jillian (who isn't actually on the show anymore).
The Amazing Sports Race. This race will pit teams of parents against one another as they try to escort multiple children to sports practices or games, and other various and sundry after school activities on different sides of town at conflicting times. Participants will be graded on their ability to run from game to game, often of differing sports, all while remembering what child is where, the rules of the game at each respective event which includes what to yell (Goal! Touchdown! Penalty! Foul!) without sounding like you clearly don't know what sport you're watching at any given moment. Because trust me, people do give you a look if you yell "Foul!" at a hockey game.
Motherhood Survivor. This could also be Fatherhood Survivor or Parenthood Survivor. I chose Motherhood because I am, in fact, a mother. Really, this is the mother of all reality shows. In this show, somewhat like The Amazing Sports Race show, people will compete to have a day run as smoothly as possible. The tasks you must complete are: exercise at horrifically early morning hours, make breakfast at multiple times, pack lunches, pack snacks, walk children to school and/or drive carpool, complete a day of work, remember to eat, plan dinner, go to the grocery store, take out trash, clean a toilet or two, do several loads of laundry, answer recorded calls from political candidates, plan a birthday party, mail birthday cards to various and sundry relatives, perform volunteer work at one or more schools, attend at least one meeting (likely unpaid), run the vacuum, take out the trash, help with homework, nag children not to watch too much TV, get children into bed, read to children, do more work without falling asleep, have some sort of interaction with spouse, read 10 pages of a book without falling asleep.
If you make it through those items, you can go on to the second round whereby you will start adding additional items to your list--things like making and taking birthday treats to school, attending PTA, etc. But that's only if you're lucky enough.
Dancing With the Regular People (DWTRP). I'm going to come clean here and admit that in 2007, I pretty much watched the entire season of Dancing with the Stars. Does anyone else remember that season? That was the one when Heather Mills McCartney was on and I was dying to see if her leg might fly off when she did some of those dance moves. It didn't. What a letdown. But anyway, why is it that the stars get to go on the show, dance with the hot professionals (come ON, you cannot tell me that Maks guy is not the hottest thing ever! Ai yi yi.), lose weight and then have their careers revived. Again with the ratings and the stars. Whatever. Personally, I think it would be way exciting to pluck Debbie from Des Moines and Wilma from Wichita off the streets and throw them onto DWTRP and just see what happens. Everyone has a story and I bet if we got to know Debbie and Wilma and whoever else they dredge up, we'd all love it.
Secretly, I do have dreams of going on the real Amazing Race with Eamonn. And in my dreams he does all of the stuff where you jump off buildings or bungee because I'd probably pee my pants on the way down. And that wouldn't look good on TV at all.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Idiots on the Internet
I'm not referring to myself.
For my work I have to read the news. So I'm pretty much cruising the Internet hours each day looking for news stories that will interest my clients' readers. And I admit, that every once in awhile, I'll click on a non-client-related story because it looks interesting to me, looks crazy to me, whatever.
So a recent story I clicked was about how this man is suing White Castle because he cannot fit into their restaurant booths.
Hmmm. Really?
So I clicked and it's true.
Let's break this down: Turns out this dude has been eating White Castle hamburgers for 48 years. And he's suing because he can't fit into the booths. Now, I'm no super genius, but even I can probably draw a pretty quick scientific conclusion.
A) You ate sliders for 48 years.
B) You got fat.
C) You can no longer fit into a White Castle booth.
D) You are embarassed because you tried to get into a booth and couldn't.
E) You decided to sue.
Does this man not see that his own actions led to his problem? I'm flabbergasted.
But it gets better. In his lawsuit he discusses how he has been such a loyal customer, why doesn't Whitey's fix their booths? And better yet, he hasn't stopped eating White Castle. No, now he sends his wife out to get them and bring them home.
Call me crazy, but if you perhaps stopped, or even just cut down, eating White Castle, perhaps you COULD fit into a booth?
What has happened to common sense in this country?
No wonder we're the butt of every other country's jokes.
Good grief.
For my work I have to read the news. So I'm pretty much cruising the Internet hours each day looking for news stories that will interest my clients' readers. And I admit, that every once in awhile, I'll click on a non-client-related story because it looks interesting to me, looks crazy to me, whatever.
So a recent story I clicked was about how this man is suing White Castle because he cannot fit into their restaurant booths.
Hmmm. Really?
So I clicked and it's true.
Let's break this down: Turns out this dude has been eating White Castle hamburgers for 48 years. And he's suing because he can't fit into the booths. Now, I'm no super genius, but even I can probably draw a pretty quick scientific conclusion.
A) You ate sliders for 48 years.
B) You got fat.
C) You can no longer fit into a White Castle booth.
D) You are embarassed because you tried to get into a booth and couldn't.
E) You decided to sue.
Does this man not see that his own actions led to his problem? I'm flabbergasted.
But it gets better. In his lawsuit he discusses how he has been such a loyal customer, why doesn't Whitey's fix their booths? And better yet, he hasn't stopped eating White Castle. No, now he sends his wife out to get them and bring them home.
Call me crazy, but if you perhaps stopped, or even just cut down, eating White Castle, perhaps you COULD fit into a booth?
What has happened to common sense in this country?
No wonder we're the butt of every other country's jokes.
Good grief.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Milestones
I have a really old car.
As you can see...
I took these pictures today as my car rolled over the monumetal milestone of 200,000 miles.
Weeks ago, Eamonn had put the camera in the car so I would be ready for this event.
I brought the camera into the house and said, "Why is the camera in the car?" The camera never made it back into the car which is why when I was pulling into the Costco parking lot at 199,999 miles, I panicked because what in the world was I going to do because I could picture the camera in the kitchen and not in the car where it was supposed to be on this momentous occasion!?
Thank goodness for camera phones.
I took several shots that didn't work. Then I figured out I needed to turn off the flash, which can actually be done. After two years with this phone, I was able to figure this out at the moment of truth. Yay me.
So I pull into the Costco lot and just happen to look down and see 199,999. Whew. Glad I didn't miss it while randomly driving around.
Took the photos. Drove around the Costco parking lot to rack up another mile and took the 200k picture.
I'm pretty sure I alarmed some of the patrons with my continued circling.
Whatever.
And the thing is, I love this car. I do not want another one. In my mind, it can't be replaced. It's a '99 VW Passat Wagon and it was the last year these were made in Germany. Now they're made in Mexico. I feel unenthused about a German car made in Mexico.
It has been an amazing car. Other than routine maintenance, we've had nary a problem with it. KNOCK WOOD. KNOCKING WOOD LOUDLY RIGHT NOW.
I figure at least 100,000 of the miles have been to and from hockey and soccer games.
But in addition to sporting events, some of the VW's exploits include:
-Four roundtrips from Ohio to Colorado. And then one Ohio to Colorado trip (no return that time!)
-Two round trips Ohio to Florida
-Round trip Ohio to Ocean City
-Two round trips Ohio to Canada (Ontario)
-Two trips to Branson--one from Ohio, one from Colorado
-Countless trips to Utah
-Colorado to Yellowstone (Wyoming)
It has carried 12 Christmas trees (and nearly been stuck in the snow on one of those adventures--no four-wheel drive on our little car!), transported kids and pets alike (RIP Kirby!), was bumped in a parking lot once, had numerous windshields, and more sets of new tires than I have shoes (OK, that might be an exaggeration, but you get the point), has held bikes, tents, snowshoes, skiis, more bikes, hockey gear, soccer gear. Sometimes much of that was at the same time.
And in 12 years, when I take pictures of it turning over 400,000 miles, I swear I'll dust the dashboard before I take pictures.
As you can see...
I took these pictures today as my car rolled over the monumetal milestone of 200,000 miles.
Weeks ago, Eamonn had put the camera in the car so I would be ready for this event.
I brought the camera into the house and said, "Why is the camera in the car?" The camera never made it back into the car which is why when I was pulling into the Costco parking lot at 199,999 miles, I panicked because what in the world was I going to do because I could picture the camera in the kitchen and not in the car where it was supposed to be on this momentous occasion!?
Thank goodness for camera phones.
I took several shots that didn't work. Then I figured out I needed to turn off the flash, which can actually be done. After two years with this phone, I was able to figure this out at the moment of truth. Yay me.
So I pull into the Costco lot and just happen to look down and see 199,999. Whew. Glad I didn't miss it while randomly driving around.
Took the photos. Drove around the Costco parking lot to rack up another mile and took the 200k picture.
I'm pretty sure I alarmed some of the patrons with my continued circling.
Whatever.
And the thing is, I love this car. I do not want another one. In my mind, it can't be replaced. It's a '99 VW Passat Wagon and it was the last year these were made in Germany. Now they're made in Mexico. I feel unenthused about a German car made in Mexico.
It has been an amazing car. Other than routine maintenance, we've had nary a problem with it. KNOCK WOOD. KNOCKING WOOD LOUDLY RIGHT NOW.
I figure at least 100,000 of the miles have been to and from hockey and soccer games.
But in addition to sporting events, some of the VW's exploits include:
-Four roundtrips from Ohio to Colorado. And then one Ohio to Colorado trip (no return that time!)
-Two round trips Ohio to Florida
-Round trip Ohio to Ocean City
-Two round trips Ohio to Canada (Ontario)
-Two trips to Branson--one from Ohio, one from Colorado
-Countless trips to Utah
-Colorado to Yellowstone (Wyoming)
It has carried 12 Christmas trees (and nearly been stuck in the snow on one of those adventures--no four-wheel drive on our little car!), transported kids and pets alike (RIP Kirby!), was bumped in a parking lot once, had numerous windshields, and more sets of new tires than I have shoes (OK, that might be an exaggeration, but you get the point), has held bikes, tents, snowshoes, skiis, more bikes, hockey gear, soccer gear. Sometimes much of that was at the same time.
And in 12 years, when I take pictures of it turning over 400,000 miles, I swear I'll dust the dashboard before I take pictures.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Ta Ta, Oprah!
Has anyone else been watching the last season of Oprah?
I've watched her show on and off over the years. When I was a freshman in college (I think), the Oprah Show started airing on a local TV station. I vividly remember waiting for a class to start and listening to the show where she went to the all white town on a friend's Sony Walkman since we weren't at home to watch it.
Sophomore year, after classes, I'd run over to my friend Wendy's dorm and we'd watch it. Memorable event from that year? When she lost all of the weight and wheeled the wagon full of fat onstage.
My viewing waxed and waned however. Once I started working, it was harder to watch. I still caught episodes here and there though. And of course, since having kids, I felt like I rarely got to watch. You should hear the cries of protest that go up when I turn on Oprah when I start dinner.
But this year I decided that since we now have the Amazing and Wonderful DVR, I would record the shows and watch when no one was home. That way I didn't have to deal with the "You're watching Oprah again?" drama.
As an added bonus, Oprah's new TV network, OWN, has been airing Oprah Behind the Scenes. Ooooo, I confess I love that show even more than the actual Oprah Show itself!
So this whole season (the last three episodes air Monday - Wednesday this week) has sort of been a "where are they now." Aside from not being invited to the last Favorite Things show (they actually did two this year), I've enjoyed the season and I don't think I've missed many episodes. Except when we were in England. I didn't record three weeks of Oprah, much to Eamonn's relief.
Anyway, as I've been watching, I've realized how much I DIDN'T see over the years. For example, I vaguely remember Dr. Phil getting his start on Oprah and the whole lawsuit with the beef industry, but who the heck was Ilyana Whatshername? And why did we need two shows devoted to her?
And James Frey. Did we really need to see James Frey again on TWO episodes? What a waste. I would have prefered to have an episode about Oprah's hair stylist and ask him what he was thinking for many, many years.
Other episodes I started and then deleted after a few minutes: Goldie Hawn talking about happiness. She's apparently some sort of expert. I will grant you that she seems very happy, but in a dingy kind of way. And actually, I can't remember what else I deleted...because I deleted them.
I missed the Sister Wives, dang it. How can you not watch that train wreck? And how about the Mystery Sister being unveiled. Wonder how that's working out? Loved seeing Ralph Lauren's ranch in Telluride, but if I had to hear her say one more time about counting the number of fence posts and wishing she could go inside, well, it was driving me nuts.
Diana Ross--liked it.
Michael Jackson's mom--liked it.
Makeovers--liked it.
Hookups--liked it.
Susan Lucci--could have done without her and her zillion on screen husbands.
Sound of Music reunion--awesome.
Camping in Yellowstone--freaking hilarious. I even watched it when they re-ran it.
Fergie--get your life together, woman.
Barbra Streisand--love her music, but can't decide if she's an annoying diva or what. While that house of hers looks really cool, the dolls in the basement scared me.
I can't think of anything that I felt like I wanted to see, but didn't. Except for me on the Favorite Things, of course.
Two more days and then Oprah is history! I think Eamonn is immensely relieved.
I now have some extra time in the day to fill.
I've watched her show on and off over the years. When I was a freshman in college (I think), the Oprah Show started airing on a local TV station. I vividly remember waiting for a class to start and listening to the show where she went to the all white town on a friend's Sony Walkman since we weren't at home to watch it.
Sophomore year, after classes, I'd run over to my friend Wendy's dorm and we'd watch it. Memorable event from that year? When she lost all of the weight and wheeled the wagon full of fat onstage.
My viewing waxed and waned however. Once I started working, it was harder to watch. I still caught episodes here and there though. And of course, since having kids, I felt like I rarely got to watch. You should hear the cries of protest that go up when I turn on Oprah when I start dinner.
But this year I decided that since we now have the Amazing and Wonderful DVR, I would record the shows and watch when no one was home. That way I didn't have to deal with the "You're watching Oprah again?" drama.
As an added bonus, Oprah's new TV network, OWN, has been airing Oprah Behind the Scenes. Ooooo, I confess I love that show even more than the actual Oprah Show itself!
So this whole season (the last three episodes air Monday - Wednesday this week) has sort of been a "where are they now." Aside from not being invited to the last Favorite Things show (they actually did two this year), I've enjoyed the season and I don't think I've missed many episodes. Except when we were in England. I didn't record three weeks of Oprah, much to Eamonn's relief.
Anyway, as I've been watching, I've realized how much I DIDN'T see over the years. For example, I vaguely remember Dr. Phil getting his start on Oprah and the whole lawsuit with the beef industry, but who the heck was Ilyana Whatshername? And why did we need two shows devoted to her?
And James Frey. Did we really need to see James Frey again on TWO episodes? What a waste. I would have prefered to have an episode about Oprah's hair stylist and ask him what he was thinking for many, many years.
Other episodes I started and then deleted after a few minutes: Goldie Hawn talking about happiness. She's apparently some sort of expert. I will grant you that she seems very happy, but in a dingy kind of way. And actually, I can't remember what else I deleted...because I deleted them.
I missed the Sister Wives, dang it. How can you not watch that train wreck? And how about the Mystery Sister being unveiled. Wonder how that's working out? Loved seeing Ralph Lauren's ranch in Telluride, but if I had to hear her say one more time about counting the number of fence posts and wishing she could go inside, well, it was driving me nuts.
Diana Ross--liked it.
Michael Jackson's mom--liked it.
Makeovers--liked it.
Hookups--liked it.
Susan Lucci--could have done without her and her zillion on screen husbands.
Sound of Music reunion--awesome.
Camping in Yellowstone--freaking hilarious. I even watched it when they re-ran it.
Fergie--get your life together, woman.
Barbra Streisand--love her music, but can't decide if she's an annoying diva or what. While that house of hers looks really cool, the dolls in the basement scared me.
I can't think of anything that I felt like I wanted to see, but didn't. Except for me on the Favorite Things, of course.
Two more days and then Oprah is history! I think Eamonn is immensely relieved.
I now have some extra time in the day to fill.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Things I Don't Make My Husband Do
Once upon a time, and truly, I think it was only once, I went grocery shopping with Eamonn. He was still my boyfriend then, but truly I only recall going to the grocery store together once. It was very early days in our relationship and I think we were planning to cook dinner together, so off we went to peruse the aisles of Kroger to decide what to make.
We are a Divide and Conquer family. If I'm at the grocery store, it's usually during the day when he's at work. Or if it's the weekend, he's doing something with the boys or working on the house. We don't have enough time for both of us to take off and go to the store. We've got things to do!
The reason this is on my brain is that yesterday I was in Denver for a meeting. If I have to go to Denver and if I need something (or one could argue even if I don't need something), I'll stop by Kohl's. We don't have a Kohl's in the valley. I confess, I miss it. I like Kohl's.
Anyway, I was pulling up to Kohl's and I saw a couple heading in together. I giggled a little. Of course, Eamonn and I have been in Kohl's together before. Trips like that usually mean I have indicated that his wardrobe is in a shambles and he needs to buy something new, so I drag him there when there's a sale. But frankly, more often than not, I go in, pick stuff out and bring it home. That was easier when we lived 10 minutes from Kohl's, but we still use that strategy. He's not a big shoppper. Big surprise.
So seeing that couple walking into Kohl's got me thinking about things I don't make my husband do:
1. Go shopping with me--grocery store or otherwise. I can't imagine parading out of the fitting room in multiple outfits for his review. Plus, I try to keep what I buy pretty much of a secret, pulling it out of my closet as needed and hoping he doesn't notice I've even been shopping. And as for the grocery store, as long as there's food in the fridge, he seems happy.
2. Watch Woman TV or Chick Flicks. Every once in awhile, he'll humor me on a special occasion and sit through something his friends will make fun of him for. Like the time we went to see You've Got Mail on our second anniversary. But there are limits. Like the time I wanted to see Mama Mia. I confirmed that he did NOT want to go, and I was right, and I went with my sister and her friends. We sang through the whole thing. There was one guy, one sad, embarassed guy, in the whole theater. He was there with his girlfriend. And he was slumped so far down in his seat you could just see the top of his head. I bet they broke up the next day. Heck, I would have dumped her, too. Get a clue, girlfriend. If want to watch Woman TV, I go to another part of the house. Like when I want to watch Oprah.
3. Eat frou frou food or a meal that nothing has died for. Or lentils. One time in our newlywed days, I slaved for hours over this lentil casserole with this special topping. He was about to eat it, fork poised at his lips, and he said, "I love everything except lentils." So never again.
4. Go on beach vacations. Or any other vacation where you sit around. One must be doing something on vacation.
5. Wear dress up clothes unless there is a wedding or funeral, and sometimes not even then.
It's taken 16 years, but I'm learning the ropes.
We are a Divide and Conquer family. If I'm at the grocery store, it's usually during the day when he's at work. Or if it's the weekend, he's doing something with the boys or working on the house. We don't have enough time for both of us to take off and go to the store. We've got things to do!
The reason this is on my brain is that yesterday I was in Denver for a meeting. If I have to go to Denver and if I need something (or one could argue even if I don't need something), I'll stop by Kohl's. We don't have a Kohl's in the valley. I confess, I miss it. I like Kohl's.
Anyway, I was pulling up to Kohl's and I saw a couple heading in together. I giggled a little. Of course, Eamonn and I have been in Kohl's together before. Trips like that usually mean I have indicated that his wardrobe is in a shambles and he needs to buy something new, so I drag him there when there's a sale. But frankly, more often than not, I go in, pick stuff out and bring it home. That was easier when we lived 10 minutes from Kohl's, but we still use that strategy. He's not a big shoppper. Big surprise.
So seeing that couple walking into Kohl's got me thinking about things I don't make my husband do:
1. Go shopping with me--grocery store or otherwise. I can't imagine parading out of the fitting room in multiple outfits for his review. Plus, I try to keep what I buy pretty much of a secret, pulling it out of my closet as needed and hoping he doesn't notice I've even been shopping. And as for the grocery store, as long as there's food in the fridge, he seems happy.
2. Watch Woman TV or Chick Flicks. Every once in awhile, he'll humor me on a special occasion and sit through something his friends will make fun of him for. Like the time we went to see You've Got Mail on our second anniversary. But there are limits. Like the time I wanted to see Mama Mia. I confirmed that he did NOT want to go, and I was right, and I went with my sister and her friends. We sang through the whole thing. There was one guy, one sad, embarassed guy, in the whole theater. He was there with his girlfriend. And he was slumped so far down in his seat you could just see the top of his head. I bet they broke up the next day. Heck, I would have dumped her, too. Get a clue, girlfriend. If want to watch Woman TV, I go to another part of the house. Like when I want to watch Oprah.
3. Eat frou frou food or a meal that nothing has died for. Or lentils. One time in our newlywed days, I slaved for hours over this lentil casserole with this special topping. He was about to eat it, fork poised at his lips, and he said, "I love everything except lentils." So never again.
4. Go on beach vacations. Or any other vacation where you sit around. One must be doing something on vacation.
5. Wear dress up clothes unless there is a wedding or funeral, and sometimes not even then.
It's taken 16 years, but I'm learning the ropes.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
The Fine Line
What is the fine line between standing up for yourself and being obnoxious?
Almost exactly one month ago, we were in the next town for a hockey game. They have a Target there, and we stopped in to pick up a few things. One of the things I purchased was a t-shirt. A $9.99 t-shirt. It is the same t-shirt as several I bought last summer. When I find a good t-shirt, I buy lots of them in different colors. I was delighted to discover they had this same line (or very similar) of shirts again this year.
I took it home. I washed it. I hung it up in my closet.
The other day, I pulled it out to wear and I noticed that after I had washed it, the hem at the bottom had become all puckered. Clearly, the stitching on it was defective causing the puckering.
No problem. I knew I was going back to the next town today and I could exchange it. I didn't have my receipt, but given that it was a recent purchase and I wanted to exchange it, not return it, it seemed like it would be OK. As an aside, it was very strange for me to not find the receipt. I'll probably find it tomorrow.
So, I went into Target. I explained my sitaution and said I wanted to do an exchange.
They said no.
I was dumbfounded.
And the reason they said no wasn't because I didn't have my receipt. It was because I had washed the shirt.
What?
Girl at counter: Our store policy is that it has to be new for you to return it. Since you washed it, now it's not new.
Me: But I didn't even get to wear it. I washed it and the puckering appeared.
GAC: I'm sorry (waving at a sign behind the counter). That's our policy.
Me: So I'm stuck with a defective shirt. (A statement as opposed to a question)
GAC: According to our policy.
Me: But that's not OK. You sold something defective and that defective quality didn't appear until after I washed it. At some point I was going to have to wash it. You're saying you won't replace this defective item? I would understand if I were trying to return this, but I like the shirt. I just want one that is actually constructed correctly. You won't do an exchange?
GAC: I can't according to our policy.
Me: Can I talk to your manager?
GAC: Actually, I am the front of house manager.
Me: Well then, I need to speak to whomever you report to.
GAC goes away to find her manager.
Declan: Are you mad?
Me: I'm getting there. I'm more frustrated than anything.
Declan: It doesn't seem like she's listening to you.
Finn: Are you going to swear?
GAC comes back. My manager says we have to stick to the policy.
Me: OK, so here's what's going to happen. I spend a lot of money in this store each year. If you refuse to exchange this shirt, I'm walking out of here without shopping today. I will never come back. I live in the next town. I will go home. I will blog about this. I will put it on Facebook. I will tell everyone I know about how you treated me in your store today. Do you really want to have that happen over a $10 shirt?
GAC: I wish I could help you but it's not our store policy to return the item.
Me: OK. Please have your manager come over and tell me this herself.
GAC disappears again. Other manager comes out.
I run through my spiel emphasizing that I want this shirt, but this shirt is defective. I just want a non-defective shirt.
The second manager returns the shirt and offers a refund or store card. In good faith, I take the store card. I use it to buy another shirt. I had to get a different color though--they didn't have my size in the original color.
I felt like Target did the right thing, because seriously, was I so out of line to expect them to take back a defective item even though I didn't have the receipt? Again, I wanted an exchange, not a refund. It was current merchandise.
I'd be so curious as to what you guys think.
As an aside, I worked retail all through high school and college. Apparently you have to fight for your customer service rights these days.
Almost exactly one month ago, we were in the next town for a hockey game. They have a Target there, and we stopped in to pick up a few things. One of the things I purchased was a t-shirt. A $9.99 t-shirt. It is the same t-shirt as several I bought last summer. When I find a good t-shirt, I buy lots of them in different colors. I was delighted to discover they had this same line (or very similar) of shirts again this year.
I took it home. I washed it. I hung it up in my closet.
The other day, I pulled it out to wear and I noticed that after I had washed it, the hem at the bottom had become all puckered. Clearly, the stitching on it was defective causing the puckering.
No problem. I knew I was going back to the next town today and I could exchange it. I didn't have my receipt, but given that it was a recent purchase and I wanted to exchange it, not return it, it seemed like it would be OK. As an aside, it was very strange for me to not find the receipt. I'll probably find it tomorrow.
So, I went into Target. I explained my sitaution and said I wanted to do an exchange.
They said no.
I was dumbfounded.
And the reason they said no wasn't because I didn't have my receipt. It was because I had washed the shirt.
What?
Girl at counter: Our store policy is that it has to be new for you to return it. Since you washed it, now it's not new.
Me: But I didn't even get to wear it. I washed it and the puckering appeared.
GAC: I'm sorry (waving at a sign behind the counter). That's our policy.
Me: So I'm stuck with a defective shirt. (A statement as opposed to a question)
GAC: According to our policy.
Me: But that's not OK. You sold something defective and that defective quality didn't appear until after I washed it. At some point I was going to have to wash it. You're saying you won't replace this defective item? I would understand if I were trying to return this, but I like the shirt. I just want one that is actually constructed correctly. You won't do an exchange?
GAC: I can't according to our policy.
Me: Can I talk to your manager?
GAC: Actually, I am the front of house manager.
Me: Well then, I need to speak to whomever you report to.
GAC goes away to find her manager.
Declan: Are you mad?
Me: I'm getting there. I'm more frustrated than anything.
Declan: It doesn't seem like she's listening to you.
Finn: Are you going to swear?
GAC comes back. My manager says we have to stick to the policy.
Me: OK, so here's what's going to happen. I spend a lot of money in this store each year. If you refuse to exchange this shirt, I'm walking out of here without shopping today. I will never come back. I live in the next town. I will go home. I will blog about this. I will put it on Facebook. I will tell everyone I know about how you treated me in your store today. Do you really want to have that happen over a $10 shirt?
GAC: I wish I could help you but it's not our store policy to return the item.
Me: OK. Please have your manager come over and tell me this herself.
GAC disappears again. Other manager comes out.
I run through my spiel emphasizing that I want this shirt, but this shirt is defective. I just want a non-defective shirt.
The second manager returns the shirt and offers a refund or store card. In good faith, I take the store card. I use it to buy another shirt. I had to get a different color though--they didn't have my size in the original color.
I felt like Target did the right thing, because seriously, was I so out of line to expect them to take back a defective item even though I didn't have the receipt? Again, I wanted an exchange, not a refund. It was current merchandise.
I'd be so curious as to what you guys think.
As an aside, I worked retail all through high school and college. Apparently you have to fight for your customer service rights these days.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
The Internet is my Back Up Brain
Why do I need to remember anything if it's all on the Internet?
Tonight I'm making something called Frenzied Fried Rice for dinner. It's a favorite around here and it's from a cookbook I love called Desperation Dinners. The base of the meal is leftover rice, which I never have, so I need to make it ahead.
Now, making rice, and pasta even, at high altitudes is always a crap shoot. I find brown rice, which we try to eat a majority of the time (vs. white rice), particularly hard to make. The altitude just does strange things to the amount of water you need and the cooking time.
I have found complete perfection when I make the Food Network's Alton Brown's baked brown rice. An online friend said it's the recipe she uses and now I use it 100% of the time I make brown rice.
So I just looked at the clock and realized it was time to get the rice cooking (it takes 45 minutes to an hour). I've made this rice enough times that I should know the recipe by heart. But I can never remember. Is it 275 degrees or 375 degrees (it's 375). Is it 2 1/2 cups of water or 2 (it's 2 1/2)? One cup of rice or 1 1/2 (1 1/2)?
My point here isn't to tell you how to cook rice (although you should use this recipe. It's a beautiful thing to cook your rice in the oven and never have it boil over on your clean stove ever again). My point is that why can't I remember this simple recipe that I've made a zillion times? But then again, why can't I remember half the stuff I forget?
With Alzheimers on both sides of the family, I worry (obsess) about my mental state to the point that I even downloaded crossword and sudoku apps for my iPad in attempt to save myself from myself.
But I've also realized that there's no reason to really fill my brain with stuff anyway because isn't that what Google is for? I can't tell you how many times Eamonn and I are sitting here watching something or talking about something and one will ask the other, "Do you remember..." fill in the blank with whatever, and the other will reply, "No, but I can Google it and find out." Tap, tap, tap...answer.
I wonder if Google will be the new cure for Alzheimers? I might be onto something.
Tonight I'm making something called Frenzied Fried Rice for dinner. It's a favorite around here and it's from a cookbook I love called Desperation Dinners. The base of the meal is leftover rice, which I never have, so I need to make it ahead.
Now, making rice, and pasta even, at high altitudes is always a crap shoot. I find brown rice, which we try to eat a majority of the time (vs. white rice), particularly hard to make. The altitude just does strange things to the amount of water you need and the cooking time.
I have found complete perfection when I make the Food Network's Alton Brown's baked brown rice. An online friend said it's the recipe she uses and now I use it 100% of the time I make brown rice.
So I just looked at the clock and realized it was time to get the rice cooking (it takes 45 minutes to an hour). I've made this rice enough times that I should know the recipe by heart. But I can never remember. Is it 275 degrees or 375 degrees (it's 375). Is it 2 1/2 cups of water or 2 (it's 2 1/2)? One cup of rice or 1 1/2 (1 1/2)?
My point here isn't to tell you how to cook rice (although you should use this recipe. It's a beautiful thing to cook your rice in the oven and never have it boil over on your clean stove ever again). My point is that why can't I remember this simple recipe that I've made a zillion times? But then again, why can't I remember half the stuff I forget?
With Alzheimers on both sides of the family, I worry (obsess) about my mental state to the point that I even downloaded crossword and sudoku apps for my iPad in attempt to save myself from myself.
But I've also realized that there's no reason to really fill my brain with stuff anyway because isn't that what Google is for? I can't tell you how many times Eamonn and I are sitting here watching something or talking about something and one will ask the other, "Do you remember..." fill in the blank with whatever, and the other will reply, "No, but I can Google it and find out." Tap, tap, tap...answer.
I wonder if Google will be the new cure for Alzheimers? I might be onto something.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Grrrrrr
I am so incredibly annoyed with myself. I have apparently lost our pretty new video camera. The one that had 80 GB of memory and that was completely full of an entire season of hockey...and clips of my Grandpa talking about "the old days."
Fortunately, I discovered that I did backup the videos of Grandpa, so I do feel slightly better about that, but no hockey. And no camera. I used it at the last hockey game on Sunday afternoon and I can only imagine that it must have rolled out of my bag and someone picked it up. There were so many people from out of town at the rink on Sunday, it's the only thing I can think of. I haved searched the house and the ice rink--no luck. It's gone. I feel a little sick-ish at the thought of how much we paid for the camera. I've been emotionally eating all day. Sigh.
I'm trying to decide if I have it in me to go exercise. It's 5pm. The time change is kicking my ass, frankly. In addition to my own work and lots of meetings this week, I have also been up early to work on the mountain three days in a row.
I'm not feelin' the love. I'm telling myself I should just take a bath and go to bed early.
And let's talk about the bed since you guys asked.
The Tempurpedic. I love it. Beyond love it. What's beyond loving it? I don't know, but whatever it is, that's what I'm feeling.
We've had it for about a month now and I'm sleeping really well. I think the two biggest factors in that department are:
-It's a bigger bed--we went from a queen to a king (which should make sleeping in a DOUBLE at the hotel in Denver tomorrow night fairly miserable) so we are no longer crashing into each other in the night. The downside of that was the other night Eamonn told me it was too far to go to give me a kiss goodnight. Travel is involved if you want to kiss your spouse.
-The stop motion. Stop motion is my new best friend. And basically, if Eamonn moves over there in the hinterlands of his side of the bed, I don't really know it. Unless he's pulling the covers off me. I do feel that. But if he gets up or comes to bed after me, or if I come to bed later, the other has no clue. The bed does not move. And it's awesome.
Plus, I find the bed very, very comfortable. We bought the Cloud model, which was sort of middle of the road in terms of firmness. The next level down was like sleeping on a brick. The next level up was the Cloud Supreme and it has another layer on the top that to me, made it too soft. It was also a zillion dollars more, so it's a good thing I didn't like that. We also got new pillows. They were having a promotion where you bought two and got one free.
The most common concerns about these beds are apparently the smell and that they "sleep hot."
The smell. I thought the pillows off-gassed far longer than the bed. The bed had been on a truck for two days in the mountains on its way to us. It was pretty cold and hard when it got here. I left it to sit for about 8 hours before I put any cover or sheets on it. I was expecting it to make the whole room smell weird. It didn't. In fact, I confess I didn't even notice the smell. The pillows were a little smellier for a few days, but then again, my head was right on it. It really didn't phase me though.
As for the bed making you feel hot. Yes, it does increase your body temp, I think. Normally in the winter, I sleep in a t-shirt, pajama pants, and heavy wool socks. We don't have a blanket on our bed, but we have always had a down comfortor. I have always put a blanket, folded over 4 times, on my side of the bed. Eamonn has no need for extra covers. I like the warmth and I like heavy covers on me.
We no longer have the down comfortor. It doesn't fit the new bed and I haven't bought anything yet. We are using a basic comfortor, not down. It's a queen size, but when you turn it sideways it fits the bed. It's just stopgap until I find what I want, but it works for now. Anyway, the bed does make me a little warmer, so I don't sleep in pajama pants. Now I'm down to a t-shirt, boxers, heavy socks, the queen comfortor, and the blanket folded 4 times. Not hugely different, but somewhat different. On another note, we aren't having a very cold winter either, so I wasn't always wearing pajama pants prior to this bed getting here.
I wake up rested (when I get in bed before midnight!!!). I'm not sore anymore. I feel like I'm sleeping better.
I don't know if Eamonn is as enamoured of the bed as I am. There are some issues with the financing. The terms Tempurpedic sent us are different than those that arrived from Wells Fargo and Eamonn is really ticked about that. He said he had a good mind to send the bed back after 90 days (which you can do). I shed a little tear over that threat.
I love the bed and don't want it to go away.
Fortunately, I discovered that I did backup the videos of Grandpa, so I do feel slightly better about that, but no hockey. And no camera. I used it at the last hockey game on Sunday afternoon and I can only imagine that it must have rolled out of my bag and someone picked it up. There were so many people from out of town at the rink on Sunday, it's the only thing I can think of. I haved searched the house and the ice rink--no luck. It's gone. I feel a little sick-ish at the thought of how much we paid for the camera. I've been emotionally eating all day. Sigh.
I'm trying to decide if I have it in me to go exercise. It's 5pm. The time change is kicking my ass, frankly. In addition to my own work and lots of meetings this week, I have also been up early to work on the mountain three days in a row.
I'm not feelin' the love. I'm telling myself I should just take a bath and go to bed early.
And let's talk about the bed since you guys asked.
The Tempurpedic. I love it. Beyond love it. What's beyond loving it? I don't know, but whatever it is, that's what I'm feeling.
We've had it for about a month now and I'm sleeping really well. I think the two biggest factors in that department are:
-It's a bigger bed--we went from a queen to a king (which should make sleeping in a DOUBLE at the hotel in Denver tomorrow night fairly miserable) so we are no longer crashing into each other in the night. The downside of that was the other night Eamonn told me it was too far to go to give me a kiss goodnight. Travel is involved if you want to kiss your spouse.
-The stop motion. Stop motion is my new best friend. And basically, if Eamonn moves over there in the hinterlands of his side of the bed, I don't really know it. Unless he's pulling the covers off me. I do feel that. But if he gets up or comes to bed after me, or if I come to bed later, the other has no clue. The bed does not move. And it's awesome.
Plus, I find the bed very, very comfortable. We bought the Cloud model, which was sort of middle of the road in terms of firmness. The next level down was like sleeping on a brick. The next level up was the Cloud Supreme and it has another layer on the top that to me, made it too soft. It was also a zillion dollars more, so it's a good thing I didn't like that. We also got new pillows. They were having a promotion where you bought two and got one free.
The most common concerns about these beds are apparently the smell and that they "sleep hot."
The smell. I thought the pillows off-gassed far longer than the bed. The bed had been on a truck for two days in the mountains on its way to us. It was pretty cold and hard when it got here. I left it to sit for about 8 hours before I put any cover or sheets on it. I was expecting it to make the whole room smell weird. It didn't. In fact, I confess I didn't even notice the smell. The pillows were a little smellier for a few days, but then again, my head was right on it. It really didn't phase me though.
As for the bed making you feel hot. Yes, it does increase your body temp, I think. Normally in the winter, I sleep in a t-shirt, pajama pants, and heavy wool socks. We don't have a blanket on our bed, but we have always had a down comfortor. I have always put a blanket, folded over 4 times, on my side of the bed. Eamonn has no need for extra covers. I like the warmth and I like heavy covers on me.
We no longer have the down comfortor. It doesn't fit the new bed and I haven't bought anything yet. We are using a basic comfortor, not down. It's a queen size, but when you turn it sideways it fits the bed. It's just stopgap until I find what I want, but it works for now. Anyway, the bed does make me a little warmer, so I don't sleep in pajama pants. Now I'm down to a t-shirt, boxers, heavy socks, the queen comfortor, and the blanket folded 4 times. Not hugely different, but somewhat different. On another note, we aren't having a very cold winter either, so I wasn't always wearing pajama pants prior to this bed getting here.
I wake up rested (when I get in bed before midnight!!!). I'm not sore anymore. I feel like I'm sleeping better.
I don't know if Eamonn is as enamoured of the bed as I am. There are some issues with the financing. The terms Tempurpedic sent us are different than those that arrived from Wells Fargo and Eamonn is really ticked about that. He said he had a good mind to send the bed back after 90 days (which you can do). I shed a little tear over that threat.
I love the bed and don't want it to go away.
Monday, January 31, 2011
We Bought a Mattress
And the purchase was.....a Tempurpedic. The Cloud model to be exact.
Thank you, everyone, for your input. People are serious about their mattresses!
The buying process was sort of comical. I went to a local store near us once by myself.
Then I waited.
Because I was afraid.
My word, have you seen the price on those bad boys?
I left brochures lying strategically around the house.
I rubbed my neck a lot.
I thrashed around in bed and stole all the covers.
I short-sheeted the bed.
Just kidding. That would serve no point. Except that it would be funny. Unless I forgot and got in bed first.
Last Saturday afternoon, we were near the other mattress store in the valley. I suggested a trip just to look.
We were there for an hour and a half.
Every time I turned around, Eamonn was on a different Tempurpedic bed.
He says he didn't fall asleep, but I question that assertion.
We got a quote. We made budget. It looked grim.
And then we found out that if we bought through the website we could get three years of financing, interest free.
Bingo.
The bed won't be delivered for 1 - 3 weeks, which is good because I need to buy new sheets and a comforter--we're graduating to a KING!!!
My neck feels better already.
Thank you, everyone, for your input. People are serious about their mattresses!
The buying process was sort of comical. I went to a local store near us once by myself.
Then I waited.
Because I was afraid.
My word, have you seen the price on those bad boys?
I left brochures lying strategically around the house.
I rubbed my neck a lot.
I thrashed around in bed and stole all the covers.
I short-sheeted the bed.
Just kidding. That would serve no point. Except that it would be funny. Unless I forgot and got in bed first.
Last Saturday afternoon, we were near the other mattress store in the valley. I suggested a trip just to look.
We were there for an hour and a half.
Every time I turned around, Eamonn was on a different Tempurpedic bed.
He says he didn't fall asleep, but I question that assertion.
We got a quote. We made budget. It looked grim.
And then we found out that if we bought through the website we could get three years of financing, interest free.
Bingo.
The bed won't be delivered for 1 - 3 weeks, which is good because I need to buy new sheets and a comforter--we're graduating to a KING!!!
My neck feels better already.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio
Has anyone ever seen this movie? I watched it a few years ago. I don't think it was any sort of blockbuster, but having grown up in Ohio, I was intrigued by the title.
Julianne Moore plays a mom with a zillion kids and a drunkard husband (Woody Harrelson) and she has to end up supporting the family by entering contests and writing jingles. It's just a good story--no car chases, gun battles or anything like that.
But recently I was thinking it's a good thing my family doesn't rely on me to write jingles and win contests to support us because...we'd starve. When I see contests on the Internet, sometimes I enter (and they don't even require me to write a jingle). Usually they're on the Pioneer Woman's site. I don't know why I keep trying to win a Kitchen Aid stand mixer on her contests. I have an amazing Bosch mixer that could do handstands around that Kitchen Aid, I'm sure. And yet, I want that shiny red, yellow, black, whatever color it is this week, mixer.
And the knives. Why would I want to win knives? We recieved Cutco knives for our wedding. Those knives will outlive me, and yet I enter contests for knives.
The other day I was desperately trying to win a new Cooking Light cookbook. Because apparently the two I have don't suffice.
I never win, so it clearly makes no difference anyway.
Once, in the late 80s, I won something. My friend, Andrea, and I went to the Festival of Trees in Columbus, and we bought raffle tickets for two round trip airfares to anywhere in the continental U.S. on American Airlines.
I won.
I never used them. I gave them to Andrea. Even though they weren't transferrable. And the story of her trying to use these tickets as me is hilarious and never could have actually happened in a post 9/11 world.
I won Bingo once in 7th grade.
My point here is that I'm totally negative on contests. Before Christmas, Finn entered some contest through Lego whereby he would win thousands of dollars worth of Lego. In his head, he was going to win. It's hard to know--do you let them have hope that they might win or do you crush their tiny spirits with the speech about how it's more likely that he'll be struck by lightening than win that contest?
It's a hard call. I think I gave the lightening speech.
Killjoy.
I'll need to remember that the next time I enter a contest for anything on PW's site.
Julianne Moore plays a mom with a zillion kids and a drunkard husband (Woody Harrelson) and she has to end up supporting the family by entering contests and writing jingles. It's just a good story--no car chases, gun battles or anything like that.
But recently I was thinking it's a good thing my family doesn't rely on me to write jingles and win contests to support us because...we'd starve. When I see contests on the Internet, sometimes I enter (and they don't even require me to write a jingle). Usually they're on the Pioneer Woman's site. I don't know why I keep trying to win a Kitchen Aid stand mixer on her contests. I have an amazing Bosch mixer that could do handstands around that Kitchen Aid, I'm sure. And yet, I want that shiny red, yellow, black, whatever color it is this week, mixer.
And the knives. Why would I want to win knives? We recieved Cutco knives for our wedding. Those knives will outlive me, and yet I enter contests for knives.
The other day I was desperately trying to win a new Cooking Light cookbook. Because apparently the two I have don't suffice.
I never win, so it clearly makes no difference anyway.
Once, in the late 80s, I won something. My friend, Andrea, and I went to the Festival of Trees in Columbus, and we bought raffle tickets for two round trip airfares to anywhere in the continental U.S. on American Airlines.
I won.
I never used them. I gave them to Andrea. Even though they weren't transferrable. And the story of her trying to use these tickets as me is hilarious and never could have actually happened in a post 9/11 world.
I won Bingo once in 7th grade.
My point here is that I'm totally negative on contests. Before Christmas, Finn entered some contest through Lego whereby he would win thousands of dollars worth of Lego. In his head, he was going to win. It's hard to know--do you let them have hope that they might win or do you crush their tiny spirits with the speech about how it's more likely that he'll be struck by lightening than win that contest?
It's a hard call. I think I gave the lightening speech.
Killjoy.
I'll need to remember that the next time I enter a contest for anything on PW's site.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Mattresses. Yet again.
I swear this will be my last mattress post for awhile. I need to hit the town and do more research. But I wanted to tell you something funny that Finn said today. He and Declan frequently sleep in the same room--sometimes in the double bed in Finn's room, sometimes in Declan's bunk beds. For the past week, they've been in Finn's room. These last few nights have been really cold so I'm guessing a little extra body heat is nice.
Anyway, yesterday Finn informed me that he needed a Tempurpedic mattress. Keep in mind, neither of the boys have been with me when I shopped for a mattress. I've probably mentioned it though.
The reason Finn says he needs a Tempurpedic mattress is so that when he gets up in the middle of the night, he doesn't wake Declan by moving the bed.
My issues:
-Why is he getting up in the middle of the night?
-He is clearly watching too much TV.
My next post will not be about mattresses. But wow, you guys are passionate about your mattresses.
Anyway, yesterday Finn informed me that he needed a Tempurpedic mattress. Keep in mind, neither of the boys have been with me when I shopped for a mattress. I've probably mentioned it though.
The reason Finn says he needs a Tempurpedic mattress is so that when he gets up in the middle of the night, he doesn't wake Declan by moving the bed.
My issues:
-Why is he getting up in the middle of the night?
-He is clearly watching too much TV.
My next post will not be about mattresses. But wow, you guys are passionate about your mattresses.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Mattresses, Part Two
Who knew that mattresses would be such an interesting topic for all of us? People are very passionate about their mattresses, or else they're looking for a new one, it seems.
Anyway, this evening I had a chance to go to a mattress store nearby. I have two choices for mattress stores--one right nearby and one about 20 miles up valley. And there is always Costco, but I peered around in there and was unimpressed.
So I went into the store with some questions. First, my sister has a memory foam mattress. They really like it, but feel like it's already.....
BREAKING IN TO SAY A MATTRESS COMMERCIAL JUST CAME ON. WEIRD. It's for the Sleep Number. More about that...
Picking up where I left off...my sister and brother-in-law like the Memory Foam, but after just a year and a half, they are already noticing it compressing.
A fact for you: the average mattress is only designed to last 8 - 10 years. I think we've squeaked plenty of life out of ours for 20 years. Another fact: It's standard for a typical spring coil mattress to compress 1 1/2 inches over those 8 - 10 years--that's that whole mattress sag thing.
So first I asked what the diff is between the Memory Foam and the Tempurpedic. Because even though I slept on the "inferior" Memory Foam, I liked it. I liked it so much that I know I could be very happy with that style of mattress.
The store had samples of the different foams: Memory Foam vs. Tempurpedic. You can feel the difference easily. The reason Tempurpedic is so bloody expensive is that their foam is patented and guaranteed not to compress more than 1/4 inch over 20 years. So allegedly you don't get that sinking compression with the Tempurpedic.
Another difference is that Tempurpedic is made with these channels to keep you cool. Apparently the Memory Foam beds are pretty hot and the Tempurpedic is designed to address this. I don't recall being hot when I slept on the Memory Foam, but other people have mentioned this to me.
I'm a little freaked out about a bed that is chemically made. Shouldn't I be buying some organic cotton mattress instead?
I did also talk to the guy about air beds. Until someone mentioned it in the comments section, I had to idea that the whole concept behind beds like the Sleep Number Bed (there are other makers and this guy I talked to tonight said he could order one he thought was superior)is that it's air. I had no clue.
I do have to say that not having slept on a Sleep Number Bed, I'm a little leery. What if I didn't like it? I also worry about "working parts" having to be replaced and stuff. I get enough of that with my 12 year old car!
I'm continuing with my research and I'll keep updating you. The big downer about the Tempurpedic bed is the price. Ay yi yi! And the guy said Tempurpedic never goes on sale. He also said no one ever returns them.
The search continues...
Anyway, this evening I had a chance to go to a mattress store nearby. I have two choices for mattress stores--one right nearby and one about 20 miles up valley. And there is always Costco, but I peered around in there and was unimpressed.
So I went into the store with some questions. First, my sister has a memory foam mattress. They really like it, but feel like it's already.....
BREAKING IN TO SAY A MATTRESS COMMERCIAL JUST CAME ON. WEIRD. It's for the Sleep Number. More about that...
Picking up where I left off...my sister and brother-in-law like the Memory Foam, but after just a year and a half, they are already noticing it compressing.
A fact for you: the average mattress is only designed to last 8 - 10 years. I think we've squeaked plenty of life out of ours for 20 years. Another fact: It's standard for a typical spring coil mattress to compress 1 1/2 inches over those 8 - 10 years--that's that whole mattress sag thing.
So first I asked what the diff is between the Memory Foam and the Tempurpedic. Because even though I slept on the "inferior" Memory Foam, I liked it. I liked it so much that I know I could be very happy with that style of mattress.
The store had samples of the different foams: Memory Foam vs. Tempurpedic. You can feel the difference easily. The reason Tempurpedic is so bloody expensive is that their foam is patented and guaranteed not to compress more than 1/4 inch over 20 years. So allegedly you don't get that sinking compression with the Tempurpedic.
Another difference is that Tempurpedic is made with these channels to keep you cool. Apparently the Memory Foam beds are pretty hot and the Tempurpedic is designed to address this. I don't recall being hot when I slept on the Memory Foam, but other people have mentioned this to me.
I'm a little freaked out about a bed that is chemically made. Shouldn't I be buying some organic cotton mattress instead?
I did also talk to the guy about air beds. Until someone mentioned it in the comments section, I had to idea that the whole concept behind beds like the Sleep Number Bed (there are other makers and this guy I talked to tonight said he could order one he thought was superior)is that it's air. I had no clue.
I do have to say that not having slept on a Sleep Number Bed, I'm a little leery. What if I didn't like it? I also worry about "working parts" having to be replaced and stuff. I get enough of that with my 12 year old car!
I'm continuing with my research and I'll keep updating you. The big downer about the Tempurpedic bed is the price. Ay yi yi! And the guy said Tempurpedic never goes on sale. He also said no one ever returns them.
The search continues...
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
The Princess and the Pea
We need a new mattress.
I realize there are wants and needs.
In this case, we need a new mattress. In my opinion.
It's not like it's falling inward, like my friend said hers was doing, but after waking up with a sore back for weeks on end, I started pondering our current mattress, and I realized it's over 20 years old. Is it even legal to sleep on a 20-year old mattress?
So this post is a question for you. Do you still sleep on a traditional mattress? If not, what are you using? Tempurpedic (I LOVE my Tempurpedic pillow, which really isn't actually the Tempurpedic brand, but it's one of those memory foam ones)? Sleep Number? Something else?
I'm torn. And clearly I need to do more research. Eamonn and I have both slept on a Tempurpedic or memory foam mattress. We both agreed it was possibly the best night's sleep ever.
And who doesn't want to sleep on a bed that you can put a glass of red wine on and then jump up and down next to it without spilling it?
Weird thing though--I have yet to talk to a chiropractor who recommend the Tempurpedic.
I have talked to two chiropractors about matresses and they have both recommended the Sleep Number bed. I have no experience with it. Our friends have one. He likes it; she is on the fence.
So, I'd love to know what you're sleeping on and how you like it.
If that doesn't sound too kinky.
I realize there are wants and needs.
In this case, we need a new mattress. In my opinion.
It's not like it's falling inward, like my friend said hers was doing, but after waking up with a sore back for weeks on end, I started pondering our current mattress, and I realized it's over 20 years old. Is it even legal to sleep on a 20-year old mattress?
So this post is a question for you. Do you still sleep on a traditional mattress? If not, what are you using? Tempurpedic (I LOVE my Tempurpedic pillow, which really isn't actually the Tempurpedic brand, but it's one of those memory foam ones)? Sleep Number? Something else?
I'm torn. And clearly I need to do more research. Eamonn and I have both slept on a Tempurpedic or memory foam mattress. We both agreed it was possibly the best night's sleep ever.
And who doesn't want to sleep on a bed that you can put a glass of red wine on and then jump up and down next to it without spilling it?
Weird thing though--I have yet to talk to a chiropractor who recommend the Tempurpedic.
I have talked to two chiropractors about matresses and they have both recommended the Sleep Number bed. I have no experience with it. Our friends have one. He likes it; she is on the fence.
So, I'd love to know what you're sleeping on and how you like it.
If that doesn't sound too kinky.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
When Facebook Friends Die
I know that sounds like I'm being all dramatic and writing a post like, "When Animals Attack," or "When Good Pets Go Bad," and all that, but Facebook brings a whole new element to the grieving process.
Last Sunday, a high school classmate and Facebook friend was killed in a car accident on a bridge/road that I have driven many a time back in Ohio. I could picture exactly where the accident happened.
Sue was someone I knew in high school, but not super well. She was really, really nice. Sweet even. Our younger sisters were in the same grade and were very good friends. She was one of the very first people to friend me on Facebook. I enjoyed reading her status updates about her family--her husband and two kids. One of her last posts was last week and was about how she and her husband were taking the day off to go Christmas shopping and spend the day together. I gathered he worked a late shift type of job and they didn't always get to spend the time together that they wanted to.
So when I received an e-mail from another classmate and mutual Facebook friend that Sue had died, I had one of those jaw dropping moments.
And here's the weird thing. Other than class reunions and until Facebook, I've had no contact with Sue since 1986. But Facebook puts a whole new element to relationships, doesn't it? I'm not sorry. I'm glad I had these last two years to "get to know" Sue all over again through Facebook, to read about and be a part of her life, even if it was from afar.
I do think about the fact that if not for Facebook, when I heard this news, probably long after her passing, I would have been saddened, but not so affected as I have been. No way! I was just reading about her plans the other day, was my immediate reaction. I probably re-read that message 10 times before it started to sink in. No. Way.
And I'm also Facebook friends with Sue's sister. Her post about Sue's death, about wondering how she would learn to live without Sue, nearly broke my heart. Let alone thinking about Sue's kids, who were in the car with her and knew she had died upon impact. Can you imagine? It's impossible not to think about it...
So, I'm sad. I don't like it that I'm sad. But for as much fun as people make of Facebook, I'm so grateful that it brought me into a very special person's world again, even if it was just for a little while.
Last Sunday, a high school classmate and Facebook friend was killed in a car accident on a bridge/road that I have driven many a time back in Ohio. I could picture exactly where the accident happened.
Sue was someone I knew in high school, but not super well. She was really, really nice. Sweet even. Our younger sisters were in the same grade and were very good friends. She was one of the very first people to friend me on Facebook. I enjoyed reading her status updates about her family--her husband and two kids. One of her last posts was last week and was about how she and her husband were taking the day off to go Christmas shopping and spend the day together. I gathered he worked a late shift type of job and they didn't always get to spend the time together that they wanted to.
So when I received an e-mail from another classmate and mutual Facebook friend that Sue had died, I had one of those jaw dropping moments.
And here's the weird thing. Other than class reunions and until Facebook, I've had no contact with Sue since 1986. But Facebook puts a whole new element to relationships, doesn't it? I'm not sorry. I'm glad I had these last two years to "get to know" Sue all over again through Facebook, to read about and be a part of her life, even if it was from afar.
I do think about the fact that if not for Facebook, when I heard this news, probably long after her passing, I would have been saddened, but not so affected as I have been. No way! I was just reading about her plans the other day, was my immediate reaction. I probably re-read that message 10 times before it started to sink in. No. Way.
And I'm also Facebook friends with Sue's sister. Her post about Sue's death, about wondering how she would learn to live without Sue, nearly broke my heart. Let alone thinking about Sue's kids, who were in the car with her and knew she had died upon impact. Can you imagine? It's impossible not to think about it...
So, I'm sad. I don't like it that I'm sad. But for as much fun as people make of Facebook, I'm so grateful that it brought me into a very special person's world again, even if it was just for a little while.
Monday, November 15, 2010
My Locker Room. I Mean, My Living Room.
This is what my living room looks like from September to March, and even beyond depending on how long the hockey season extends. The living room gets a break from being a drying rack during the month of June. Sort of. Then things rachet back up again when hockey camps start during the summer (and run right into tryouts in September).
I have informed the men of the house that all hockey gear must move into the basement during the holiday season.
You can see where that's gotten me so far.
And I'm making good on my threat to decorate for Christmas before Thanksgiving this year. It's happening this weekend.
Allegedly.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Please Deposit Your Hide Here
I have to say, I did a double take when I passed this on the side of the road yesterday. In fact, I drove past it twice before pulling over to take the picture.
I remain a little mystified.
Why would you be driving around with a hide? If you were driving around with a hide, why would you decide to put it in this barrel? If there are hides in the barrel (darn, I realized I didn't get out and look in the barrel), how are they keeping all sorts of vermin from ransacking the barrel?
There were two magpies sitting on the rim the first time I drove by.
Wouldn't the barrel reek?
Still mystified. This is a new one for me.
I remain a little mystified.
Why would you be driving around with a hide? If you were driving around with a hide, why would you decide to put it in this barrel? If there are hides in the barrel (darn, I realized I didn't get out and look in the barrel), how are they keeping all sorts of vermin from ransacking the barrel?
There were two magpies sitting on the rim the first time I drove by.
Wouldn't the barrel reek?
Still mystified. This is a new one for me.
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