Like the title says, I'm not old yet, by any means, but there are tell-tale signs that it's happening. Each day when I look in the mirror, I look just a little bit older. My skin is just a little bit wrinklier (is that even a word?!). My hair is just a little bit grayer (I used to be able to count the gray hairs, but there's too many now).
It's happening whether I like it or not, and believe me, I do not like it. Not one bit!
Take for instance, when one of the kids is listening to their music and I tell them to turn it down. They look at me like I'm crazy when they tell me that the volume is "only on 2". Or, how about when I tell them that same music is incomprehensible. "I don't know why you listen to that crap. You can't understand a word he's saying!" That right there is my mother, flying out of my mouth before I realize what I'm saying. It's classic, and I can remember (believe it or not!) her saying the same exact thing to me when I was a teenager. Yep. Old age has its foot in the door.
Of course, there's the physical side of getting old, too. It doesn't just happen overnight. It creeps up on you so slowly, you don't really know for sure that it's happening until it has. I'm not talking about the gray hair or wrinkles. Those are typical, and expected. I'm talking about the physical things that happen behind the scenes, so to speak.
Boobs. It's not just women, either. I'm 38 years old. Like I said, not old. But, over the last couple of years, I've noticed things starting to head south, if you know what I mean. The word perky is no longer in my vocabulary when it comes to describing anything on my body. Perky personality, maybe. Perky breasts? Afraid not.
Getting out of bed in the morning is another problem that has presented itself as of late. I used to wake up in the morning feeling refreshed and ready to face the day. Now, when I wake up, the first thought that crosses my mind is how bad my back aches, or my hip aches, or that whatever I'm laying on aches. I sit up, groaning at the tightness of every muscle in my body, and throw my legs over the side of the bed, grimacing at the shooting pains in my knees. It's Arthur coming to visit already. It runs in my family, and he's decided to make a home with me early on. Yep. Old age .
Then there's the fact that I get up in the middle of the night to pee now. I NEVER used to get up at night. Once my head hit the pillow, I was unconscious until the alarm went off the next morning. Not anymore. The days of sleeping straight through the night are over. I get up once a night to pee, and could probably get up twice, but force myself to remain in bed until the alarm because my knees hurt too bad to do it again. Old age.
It's happening whether we like it or not, that is for sure. I guess it's how we deal with it that counts, though. They say you're only as old as you feel. Some days I feel a hundred and fifty, but most days I feel 38.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go rub some Ben-gay on my knees and take my Aleve before I get into bed.
Not Old Yet. But, It's Happening
The Evils of Facebook
Facebook really is evil. Trust me, I know.
It steals time from family. It robs one of all rational thought. It causes one to become oblivious to their surroundings. It's evil, take it from me.
I signed up for Facebook months and months ago. The only reason I did, was because my sister-in-law talked me into it. "It's so much fun!" she assured me, and it was.....for a few days. Then, I started acquiring friends. And those friends started sending me stuff. A hug here, and a smile there. It was cute. Then I started getting more stuff.....things I didn't have any idea what to do with. I couldn't keep up with it all, and it was time consuming. So, I stopped visiting Facebook.
Until last week.......
I saw my kids on Facebook playing some cafe game, and a farm game. It looked fun, so I went on to have a look. Before I knew it, I was playing these games and then some! Cafe World, Farmville, Fishville, anything you want to play-ville. It was freakin' fun!
Now, every waking moment is spent on Facebook. Laundry isn't getting done, the kids are mad because Mike is making them clean the house because, "Your mom is busy", and any plans have to be made around when food needs to be served or crops harvested. It's insane, I tell you!
I even had Becky serve some food for me that was ready while I was out this past Saturday night! I'm obsessed! My aunt and I spent an hour on the phone this afternoon discussing ways to set up her restaurant for maximum customer satisfaction. Can it get any crazier than that?
Don't answer that just yet.
How about laying awake at night thinking about how you can make your cafe more profitable?
It's all true, I swear.
Anyway, Facebook is evil, but I can't stop myself.
Speaking of which, I need to go now, I hear that one of my dishes is ready to be served (Cafe World is open in another tab, with the sound on!)
Random Thoughts Again
I'm a big fan of true crime stories, especially serial killers. TruTV has a great website that has an awesome crime library that I read frequently. I read a bunch of stories about serial killers, rapists, etc, etc. I know, morbid stuff, but I love it.
Anyway, this thought keeps crossing my mind when I read stories about women getting raped. You know, the ones that live to tell about it. I wonder if any of them thought about letting the rapist rape them?
Let me clarify.
You know how in hostage situations, you hear about someone trying to befriend the person holding everyone hostage? You know, to try to get him to either give up or at least not hurt anyone? Like, if he's your friend, he won't hurt you as quickly? This is the type of thing I mean.
Like, "OK, I'll let you have sex with me if you must, but please wear a condom." Or, acting like they are attracted to the attacker and want to have sex. I wonder what kind of response they'd get? Would the rapist be like, "Oh forget it. It's no fun if you agree to it." Would he leave her alone?
And my next question is, how would they prosecute? How would they prove it was rape if you consented to it and asked him to wear a condom, even if it was to save your life?
What a dilemma. I'm not making fun of something so serious. These are serious questions I've thought about and wondered answers to.
Maybe I should lay off the true crime stories for a while........
Observations
While out today running errands and picking up supper at McDonalds, I made a few observations. This will be a three-parter, so buckle up, sit back, and get ready for the ride!
Observation #1:
First of all, let me apologize in advance for this one. I'm sure it will offend a few people out there, but I can't help what I see. If you fall into this observation, and feel my opinion is wrong, feel free to leave me a comment. We'll hash it out right here and now, on this blog. I'm up for a good debate.
Here goes....
We visit our local Walmart Supercenter regularly, at least twice a week. There is an older woman greeting people at the door when they come in and leave. She has longish dark hair that is gray at the roots. She wears glasses, and most times has a sweater on in addition to her Walmart smock. She's always there, as are we. I'll wager a bet that she's there 95% of the time that we are.
In my mind, people greeters should be cheerful people. They should smile when they welcome you into the store, and they should tell you to have a nice day when you leave. To be good at being a people greeter, these simple criteria should be met.
This woman never, ever smiles.
She actually frowns as she says, "Welcome to Walmart". There is absolutely no emotion in her voice. She stands with her arms crossed and never makes eye contact. She is a poor people greeter. I wonder why she's still working there.
When we leave, she has the same scowl on her face and says, "Bye". That's it.
I always smile at her when she says welcome or bye, and say, "Thank you" or "Have a good day", hoping that it might be contagious. But, it isn't. She never smiles back. She never says thank you. She is a poor people greeter.
Now, here's where my opinion comes in.
How hard can this job be? How is it that you stand there, doing nothing but greeting people as they enter and leave the store, AND GET PAID FOR IT, not cause for a smile once in a while? Seriously, in this day and age, shouldn't she be thankful that she has a job that is so easy?
OK, OK. I realize that this is sounding harsh, and I do agree. I'm just a little ticked off at the rudeness of this woman, and the fact that her job requires just the opposite. It just doesn't make sense to me.
Observation #2:
McDonalds goes into full panic mode when more than 6 nuggets are ordered at a time.
Seriously.
We went to McDonalds to pick up supper tonight to take home. We ordered two six piece Chicken Mcnuggets. This was no big deal. The guys behind us ordered 60 nuggets, and one of them was contemplating ordering another 20 just to be sure they had enough.
It instantly became a shout-fest behind the counter. The girl taking the order yelled back, "We need nuggets down now! Need 60 nuggets and possibly more, STAT!" (She didn't really say stat, but it kind of fit here.)
The manager-on-duty yelled to the workers in the back (because they are so far away and didn't hear the first brain-rattling bellow), "Start dropping nuggets! We need nuggets now! Lots and lots of nuggets!"
The food preparers (is this what they are called?) started moving, around in circles it seemed. Everyone was busy doing something, but no one was sure what they should be doing. No one had ever ordered that many nuggets at one time before. Do we have enough? Oh my god! What if we don't have enough?! I don't think our fryers can handle that many nuggets at one time! What do we do? What do we do? What do we dooooooo????
They start yelling to one another, "Get more nuggets from the freezer!"
"How many?"
"I don't know, just grab a bunch! It's a big order! A thousand or so!"
Mike and I are standing there watching all of this while we wait for our food. It was comical to see them scrambling around as if they hadn't a clue what to do with an order that big.
I'm surprised to say, though, that we got our food in a timely fashion, despite the McNugget rush. I was somewhat disappointed by this, though, because I wanted to stay and see what 80 Chicken McNuggets looks like.
Observation #3
Throwback cans of Mountain Dew. When and where did these white cans exist?
Bought a limited edition 12-pack of Mountain Dew tonight at Walmart. The box is white, as are the cans. They say throwback cans. They are ugly and generic, if you ask me. I've never seen them before.
They must be throwback from a long, long time ago.
There Are Times When Winter Is A Blessing
Actually, there is only one instance, that I can think of, when winter is a blessing.
And that is, when it comes time to shave one's legs and/or armpits.
I hate shaving. It takes too long, and has to be repeated way too often during the summer months. I have yet to figure out why I (me, personally) need to do it. I mean, it's not like I'm turning heads when I walk into a room. I bet no one would even notice if I didn't shave during the summer. I could walk into the grocery store, bushy-legged, braids hanging from my armpits, and not one person would comment.
OK, that may be a stretch, because I know I'd say something to someone if I saw a sight like that.
Anyway. As I was saying. I hate, hate, hate shaving. Do you get that? I HATE it! But, during the winter months, though, I don't have to! Jeans and sweatshirts do not allow for view of my hairy legs and armpits, so why bother?
For some, this is probably one of those, "Oh my gawd! How can you live like that?" moments. For me, it's Heaven. You may also be feeling sympathy for my husband, who is the only one privileged or cursed enough to see me au naturel. To you, I say, "Don't feel so sorry for the man that farts in bed and thinks bodily smells/sounds are funny." If you ask me, I'm the victim here. Who knows? Maybe he likes it. Personally, I don't care. He will suck it up and like it if he knows what's good for him......and he does.
I honestly don't know why I'm telling you all this. Maybe it's my huge dislike for winter. It's dragging on, with no end in sight any time soon. With the days ending so early, the cold temperatures, the snow, the dreariness, maybe I needed to find something good about it.
Or maybe it's the fact that while in the shower this evening, I looked down and became frightened when I thought that a freakish, hairy little creature was in the shower with me. When I realized it was my leg, I began to wonder just how long it had been since I had shaved last. Looking at my right armpit gave me an idea that it had to be at least a month ago.
I grabbed the razor, and began the arduous task of shaving my legs and armpits. It took so long, I actually used all the hot water! I even discovered a tattoo that I forgot I had. It was almost like Christmas all over again! I'm happy to say that, at least for a day or two, I'm smooth and sexy.
Now, if I can just get that husband of mine to be less......male.
She's Growing Up
I'm a little disappointed today. One of the most exciting moments in a girl's life came and went today, unceremoniously. What happened, you may ask?
Well, Becky got her period, that's what. She called me into the bathroom five minutes before the bus is due and tells me that there's blood. I look. Sure enough, there was blood. So, we go through the whole this-is-how-you-wear-these-things thing, and she gets dressed and flies out the door. I'm left holding the backing from a sanitary napkin in my hand, and a single tear in my eye.
How pitiful is that?
I'm sure her friends at school are reaping the rewards of her excitement, while I sit here at home feeling somewhat deprived of a right of passage. Ah well, who am I to complain? I'm just the MOM. The one that nurtures her and protects her. The one that would lay her life down for her.
Eh, it's OK.
*sniff*
Said He Was Sick, And I Believed Him
Picture this:
I walk out of my office(a.k.a my bedroom) after finishing work for the day. The entire downstairs is filled with a haze, and I smell something cooking. I turn the fan on above the stove to clear the air. I can hear a child shouting off in the distance. I walk passed the living room. There are blankets and pillows on the floor, the recliner is in the reclined position (footstool and all), and the TV is on. No one is in the room but the dogs, who have made themselves comfy and warm in the strewn blankets.
I continue on to the bathroom. Nature is calling, and it's an emergency. I begin to do my thing, and to my surprise (not really), there is a gift floating in the toilet, covered in gobs of toilet paper, unflushed. Almost peeing my pants, I flush the toilet, praying that it goes down because the plunger is downstairs in the basement and has been for a week now where I used it to unstop the sink.
This scene is constructed by my youngest son(he provides me with so much to write about!).....the one that swore he was so sick this morning, he couldn't possibly go to school. I should've known.
The smell of cooking was coming from the electric skillet that he left plugged in after making a grilled cheese sandwich an hour earlier. The haze was from the skillet. It filled the entire first level. The shouting I heard was from him, upstairs, yelling at the PS2 because the men in his game were not cooperating(you can't tell him that it's the operator. He gets mad. It's never his fault! Yelling at the game apparently helps.). The blankets and pillows in the living room were his. He slept until 10am, at which time, he threw the blankets aside and went about his day, destroying my house in his apparent sickened state. He never un-reclines(is that a word?) the recliner. It irritates the hell out of me!
I'll let you draw your own conclusions on what the gift was in the toilet. I don't think that needs any explanation. Just know that I barely held my bodily fluids long enough to let the toilet finish flushing. Why I can't sit on a toilet with floaters, I don't know. Guess I'm just weird that way.
That leads me to another little tidbit I bet you didn't know about me, and probably couldn't care less. If I go into a public restroom and there's anything in the toilet, I'll go to another stall. Is that weird? Do you do that, or will you flush it and use that stall anyway?
Hmm....those random thoughts are pushing their way in again.
Gross, I know.
Dream Big, Kid. Dream Big
Timothy has acquired a new cell phone. Actually, it's not a new cell phone. It's Mike's old Tracfone, but it's new to Tim. The phone had a few minutes left on it, and Mike told him if he worked around the house, he'd put some more minutes on it for him. I consider this bribery, and thought it stupid. Kids should do their chores because I say so, but anyway......
So, this morning while waiting for the bus, Tim says, "I need more minutes." I tell him, "Your father (emphasis on father) said that he'd buy you some minutes as soon as you start doing some work around here."
Tim: But, I don't want to work.
Me: You have to work. Everybody has to work. You have to work to get money to buy the things you need and want.
Tim: But, it's too hard.
Me: Well, I don't like working, either, but I do. I have to work so we can have what we need around here. Your dad would prefer not to work, too, but you see him get up early every day and go to work. You'll be doing that someday, too. For now, your job is to do good in school and do your chores at home. If you want minutes for your phone, you'll do the work.
Tim: I'm not going to ever have to worry about money when I get older. I'm going to make the most money in the world! I'm not going to work. I'm going to play football!
The bus came at this point, and the conversation came to an end. I was left with a feeling of failure because my lesson on responsibility fell on deaf ears. Of course, I do believe that had the conversation continued any further, it would have done no good. I've heard this before. He's going to play pro football and make so much money, it'll be ridiculous. I guess it's good to have dreams. If only I could get him to put as much effort into everything else as he puts into his football passion.
Who knows? Maybe someday he'll make it into the NFL, and make the most money in the world. Then, he can take care of his mother in her old age.
Hey, I think I just got myself a new dream!
A Massage In The Most Unlikely Place
When I woke up yesterday morning, I had no idea that I would receive one of the best massages of my life that day. It occurred in the most unlikely of places....a high school cafeteria, and it was performed by the most unlikely of people....a college student.
Tristan had a wrestling tournament yesterday. A tournament that took us an hour and a half out of our way one way. It was such a long drive, and I really had no desire(for some reason) to be there. I think because this is his last year wrestling, and I'm having difficulties with his impending departure from our household(this is a whole other story), I just am not into the whole #1 wrestling fan this year.
Anyway, we get to the school where the tournament is, and I'm in my "I don't want to be here" mood, complete with scowl and everything, when I see five massage tables set up in the cafeteria. There were a few people enjoying massages, and I was intrigued. I went over to the young people standing around these tables and asked what was going on.
It turned out that these young people were college students who needed to log some community service hours in massage therapy in order to graduate, and they were giving out free massages! "Sign me up!" I say. Free? Massage? No need to say more!
I climbed onto the table, after signing a waiver that says if this inexperienced college student permanently injures me I can't hold him liable, and expect to receive a so-so massage. What I expected, and what I got are two different things entirely! OMG! This kid knew just what to do, and knew how to do it well! If there was any tension or stress in my neck, it was gone instantly. It was like his fingers weren't really massaging, but giving off some sort of magic or energy that just melted away any knots withing the radius of his hands. I think I may have fell in love with him for just a second or two. I seriously thought about kidnapping him and throwing him in my trunk to take him home and make him my massage slave. But, decided against it since I came with the rest of my family, and they might get suspicious of the small, young guy in the trunk.
He kept asking me if the pressure was OK. "Tell me if the pressure is too hard, and I'll back off a little bit," he'd say.
I said, "The pressure is fine. I want to be able to feel your fingertips massaging my navel!"
He laughed. I think he thought I was kidding.
I was not......
The massage itself was over way too fast, about fifteen minutes. I wanted to tell him to keep going, that I'd gladly take my clothes off and cover with a towel right there in front of everyone if he'd like to do it the right way, but I didn't. I don't think the high school would appreciate such a show, even if it was in the name of health. I did find out though, that the college where these gifts of heaven attend, gives one hour massaged for $35. My friend, Laurie, and I have made plans to make the hour drive just to get one. I hope I can get John(I think that was his name) again. I'm telling you, he has a gift!
So, a massage in the cafeteria of a high school at a wrestling tournament. Doesn't get much weirder than that.
2009 At A Glance
Who would have thought it would take me almost a year to come up with something else to post about? Surely there had to be something interesting happen to me in the past 10 months? I can't be that boring......can I?
Oh, here's something.....The job I had working from home? Yeah. Well, that was a bust. Turns out the job was a scam all along. OK, maybe scam is too harsh a word. What do you call it when a company you work for suddenly stops paying you but expects you to still continue to work? What's it called when management belittles its employees, using incompetence as an excuse for not paying them?
Anyway, call it what you will, the company I worked for from December of 2008 until August 2009 suddenly stopped paying us in May. The excuse? Clients not paying them, and incompetent employees that caused them to lose clients. Yeah, right. It was all an excuse to not have to pay anyone. I worked from May until August thinking I'd get paid eventually, but finally got sick of the lies and bull, and quit. I put up enough of a stink and caused enough of a threat that I finally received all of my back pay in October. I filed with the Department of Labor in the state the company is in, as well as my own state. I emailed and called every day, bugging the crap out of the owner, and I started my own survivors forum for other employees from the company like myself who wanted to get paid. The owner didn't like it too much and threatened to sic her legal on me, but it was all talk. Apparently the threat was real enough for her though, cause she paid me. There are a couple hundred people still waiting for their pay....since May 2009. There's currently a law firm that knows the owner's history and has had dealings with them before, who are looking into the case. Should be interesting to see what happens there.
And, my website/forum is still up and running.....with over 50 members so far, and more trickling in every day. The owner of the company is livid that the site is still functioning. She can't believe that anyone would defy her like this. I can only laugh at her rage.
Let's see....what else?
Oh! Tristan cracked up our only good vehicle a week or so ago. That was interesting. Actually, it wasn't his fault. An old man backed right into him in the middle of the road trying to get his newspaper from the box. Seriously, the guy just stopped in the middle of the road, threw it in reverse, and plowed into him. Here's how the call home went:
The phone rings.
Me: Hello?
Tristan: Mom, I'm coming home.
Me: Why?
Tristan: Because someone just smashed the Blazer.
Me: No way! You're kidding, right?
Tristan: No, I'm serious. I'm coming home.
Me: Wait! You can't come home!
Tristan: Why can't I come home? (He was surprisingly calm up until this point. His voice started to quiver a bit here.)
Me: Because. You're supposed to stay at the scene and call the police! You can't come home! Go back!
Tristan: I already got the guy's information. I forgot what else I was supposed to do. It was cold.
Me: OK. Just come home and we'll call the police from here.
Tristan: OK, be home in a few seconds. (the accident happened just up the road from our house)
So, he gets home and we call the Sheriff's Dept. They send someone out, and I call the guy and he comes over. There's no damage to his truck except for a little cracked light cover in back. Our Blazer is another story. The entire driver's side front is demolished. I believe the vehicle is about two feet shorter than when it left that morning. The guy must've been excited to get his paper because he did a lot of damage in reverse in a short distance.
The body shop has estimated the damage at about $3200 so far, but they aren't done checking everything yet. Luckily, the old guy admitted it was all his fault, and had insurance, so they are taking care of the bill. Not sure if it'll be totaled yet or not, so we're playing the waiting game right now. In the mean time, his insurance company is paying for a rental car for us.
It's a Chevy Malibu. Nice car to look at, but horrible on snowy roads. And not very comfortable in the bucket seats in the front if you're bigger than, say a, french fry. When you have an ass like mine, you need flat seats. Nothing with sides that are contoured to fit nice, skinny asses. Anyway, living in Wisconsin requires 4-wheel drive, which out Blazer was, and this Malibu thing is not. It's made to look good, not be practical.
Mike and I tossed around the idea of buying a new car if the Blazer is totaled. At first we were excited by the thought of driving a new car. We were "test driving" it, we said. Well, it is unanimous that we will not be buying anything like a Malibu. I have no idea what we will buy if the opportunity presents itself, but that, we are sure of.
So, that's some of the excitement that's happened over the last few months. I'm sure there's more, but my brain hurts right now from trying to remember everything. When something else pops into my head, I'll be sure to return here and jot it down for you all because I'm sure you're just dying to know what life has been like for me in the last 10 months, right?
Suuuuuuuure.........
