tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20187701482869424012024-03-05T00:11:22.855-05:00Back in BlackSignificantly enhancing your quality of life.Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.comBlogger276125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-13523602594475964182021-07-20T21:23:00.001-04:002021-07-20T21:23:47.773-04:00Space Race<p>Was there some rich white guy meeting that we didn't know about where they all secretly decided to get super interested in space all of the sudden? One minute we're minding our own business and the next minute, Richard Branson and Jeff Bezos are headed to space in an intense inter-galactic pissing contest.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM6RMswHkQOKvmaMUxdK-3DA4rDLzOh4oYJqLeGBThY9619-fyEGio6IfjG06fOg6s5pW8oxgQkP3q2NzpVfWng23W3H8HyCnbdvK0qjgpgU9Okzvsr92l-8sxHApKb9JzXB9mKLYzqM1h/s262/Astronauts.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM6RMswHkQOKvmaMUxdK-3DA4rDLzOh4oYJqLeGBThY9619-fyEGio6IfjG06fOg6s5pW8oxgQkP3q2NzpVfWng23W3H8HyCnbdvK0qjgpgU9Okzvsr92l-8sxHApKb9JzXB9mKLYzqM1h/s0/Astronauts.gif" /></a></div><p>The list of things I'd do with Branson or Bezos levels of money is pretty lengthy. But sending myself into space would definitely be near the bottom. Honestly, I wouldn't even write it down on the paper because I know it would never happen. Space seems neat and I'm glad it's there, but that's about where it ends for me.</p><p>And even if I were crazy interested in space, I'd still think it's total BS that these guys are going there. I already experience a daily rage at the thought of Jeff Bezos paying approximately seven nickels in taxes and now that SOB has to rub it in my face with a space vacation?! He could do so much good in the world and <i>still</i> have more money than the rest of us combined, and he goes to space in a <a href="https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/adeonibada/amazon-jeff-bezos-space-blue-origin-dick-rocket">questionably-shaped rocket</a>. </p><p>I'm not saying that rich people don't have a right to spend their own money. They totally do. But they damn well need to pay taxes like the rest of us first. It's completely messed up that headlines such as <i>Boy Pays Off Lunch Debt for Entire School</i> and <i>Jeff Bezos Blasts into Space on Own Rocket: 'Best Day Ever!'</i> exist in the same country. Those are both real headlines, in case you were wondering.</p><p>As previously stated, there's a lot of things I'd do if I became super wealthy. I'd certainly buy my fair share of material items; a nice house, new cars, some of those impulse items by the register. I almost said 'furniture I don't have to assemble myself' but truth is, I love assembling IKEA furniture. I'd splurge on some spa treatments like weekly massages. My husband and I would travel to everywhere we'd ever dreamed of going...first class, no less! But I'd also give generously to organizations such as the Humane Society and the National Parks Foundation.</p><p>But hey, maybe Jeff Bezos thinks some of my rich lady dreams are silly. Maybe he can't imagine wasting money on a weekend at the Vermont bed and breakfast seen in the 1980s television classic, <i>Newhart</i>. But it's something my husband and I plan to do. </p><p>I guess the point is, when you're worth $205 billion you can do whatever you want. But the second point is that I can laugh at you. </p><p></p>Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-38982572317444893382021-07-11T20:48:00.001-04:002021-07-11T20:48:40.330-04:00Say Goodbye to These<p>I've been an <i>Arrested Development </i>fan since the early days. I consider it to be one of the funniest and smartest network comedies of all time. Of course, like many quality items of substance, it was underappreciated by the masses and cruelly taken away from those of us wise enough to know that there's always money in the banana stand.</p><p>When I first heard it was being resurrected by Netflix in 2013, I was excited. But for a variety of reasons, I didn't watch it right away. I finally got around to watching season 4 a few years ago...and I did not like what I saw. And no, I'm not just talking about Lindsay Bluth's new look. It was disjointed and confusing. I had a hard time getting interested in the storyline. Instead of peppering in the running gags from the first three seasons, they just dumped as many as they could into every episode. I <i>think </i>I abandoned it midway through the season. </p><p>Fast forward to less than a month ago when I <u>finally</u> convinced my husband that he needed to watch the show. Obviously I knew he'd love it, but at a minimum I need him to understand just how hilarious it is when I say, "These are my awards, Mother. From Army. The seal is for marksmanship and the gorilla is for sand racing."</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisfBueRslrpFh4L-ndEYo8PQVUDejL_1DRZBKM9PVX5xPOKAhe-rLM8O-zs4bti85ZhGpwCJTNTEXpLyWAGWLnS6L3D1bhvpU9B1Jf_YuFbu7ow2gGXYUsGAH5QYOiQqRoq7oxxxvQzVJr/s259/Army+Awards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisfBueRslrpFh4L-ndEYo8PQVUDejL_1DRZBKM9PVX5xPOKAhe-rLM8O-zs4bti85ZhGpwCJTNTEXpLyWAGWLnS6L3D1bhvpU9B1Jf_YuFbu7ow2gGXYUsGAH5QYOiQqRoq7oxxxvQzVJr/s0/Army+Awards.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>It took a few episodes for him to get on board, but he did. We finished the original run and he decided he wanted to watch the Netflix seasons. So we did. We watched the season 4 remix "Fateful Consequences" which was rearranged and re-released in 2018; and season 5 which ran in 2018-19. We finished the series finale last night...and I have thoughts. Many thoughts. <p></p><p>My main thought is what I said to my husband at the end of the episode: How. Dare. You. </p><p>Not him, of course. Netflix. How dare Netflix do that to my beloved show?! It's like they don't even care how long it's going to take me to mentally block out those episodes from my memory.</p><p>The original Bluths were callous and selfish, but they weren't diabolical. But under Netflix, George and Lucille Bluth became evil villains. The original Buster was an innocent Mother Boy (and he had the trophies to prove it). The new Buster was some sort of sociopath. I could keep going, but I don't feel like getting too angry tonight. I'm just glad I own seasons 1-3 on DVD, that way I don't have to stream them on Netflix and run the risk of accidentally exposing myself to seasons 4-5.</p><p>I'd like to quote Kitty Sanchez and tell seasons 4 and 5: Say goodbye to these. </p>Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-37121528267309857882021-06-21T21:54:00.004-04:002021-06-21T21:54:48.515-04:00So You're a Fan?<p>My husband and I are members of a <i>Brooklyn Nine Nine</i> fan page on Facebook. It's a fantastic show and if you haven't watched it before, stop reading this and go watch it right now. I'll wait.</p><p>Well, not literally.</p><p>Anyway, we're on this fan page and at this point I think it's just so we can talk smack about the posts from the other fans. Instead of fun memes and jokes from the show, the majority of the posts fall into the following categories:</p><p><b><u>Confusion Regarding Acting</u></b></p><p>It's always a terrible picture of the show, paused on their TV to show an actor from <i>Brooklyn Nine Nine</i> appearing in another show. "Look who I found on <i>Modern Family</i>!" "Spotted Boyle in <i>Pitch Perfect 2</i>!" "Doug Judy was on <i>Friends</i>!" That's not an accomplishment. That's just how acting works. Throughout their careers, actors will appear in many roles. This fact is lost on the members of the group. Sometimes I debate blowing their minds by commenting regarding the existence of IMDB. </p><p><b><u>Cluelessness of Guest Stars</u></b></p><p>I guess this is technically a subcategory of Confusion Regarding Acting. Some pretty big names have been on <i>Nine-Nine</i> over the years, but their fame is brand new information to members of the group. Celebrity guest stars who have flown under some of the group members' radar include: Jimmy Smits, Danny Trejo, Katey Sagal, Lin Manuel Miranda, Bradley Whitford. I will say that the comments on these posts are absolute gold. </p><p><b><u>Unsure of the Definition of a Fan</u></b></p><p>These are the people who always post about what they don't like about the show and it always seems as though the things they don't like outweigh the things they do like. They post polls asking members to vote for their least favorite characters. Or complain about how Jake should be with Sophia and Rosa should be with Marcus. It's akin to someone saying they like <i>Seinfeld</i> but that all the scenes in Jerry's apartment are pure garbage and make them hate life. These posts can get intense. </p><p><b><u>Failed Retcon Detectives</u></b></p><p>These people are the 5 Minute Crafts equivalent of fans. [Note to self: write a post on 5 Minute Crafts next week]. What I mean by that is, they're trying to solve problems that don't exist. Like when 5 Minute Crafts provides us with life hacks no one asked for or needed. A big one for these people is another detective character who is referenced during the pilot but is not included in subsequent episodes. If I'm not mistaken, this person didn't even have lines in the pilot. Another character says something like, "That's Daniels." And that's it. But to these super sleuths, it's something to be discussed. "Am I the only one who wants to know what happened to Daniels?" Yes, weirdo. You are.</p><p>And that's the fan group. If nothing else, it does provide my husband and me with something to laugh about.</p>Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-82836742548965384482021-06-06T22:20:00.005-04:002021-06-06T22:20:39.810-04:00FriendshipThe TV of my youth definitely convinced me there were going to be a lot more live-in butlers in my adult life. <i>Who's the Boss</i>, <i>The Nanny</i>, <i>Fresh Prince of Bel Air</i>. Not once have I gone over to someone's house to be greeted by a middle-aged British man wearing a three-piece suit. No, the closest I've ever come to a butler is probably Ask Jeeves.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLnl_Xu85rSTLF9HQM_3NO1uqnWsn3BkafhK3E6wOjqMNF1kFBKtuQOMlh-M0fepByzO-biIHYDiWkCSuD2rHMtDDGXQkeVcLXwRpJgtPqInCqdJWH1dfTajdPh6YviRWsCD-youc5umH4/s415/Jeeves.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="276" data-original-width="415" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLnl_Xu85rSTLF9HQM_3NO1uqnWsn3BkafhK3E6wOjqMNF1kFBKtuQOMlh-M0fepByzO-biIHYDiWkCSuD2rHMtDDGXQkeVcLXwRpJgtPqInCqdJWH1dfTajdPh6YviRWsCD-youc5umH4/w320-h213/Jeeves.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div>We all developed ideas of what adulthood would be like based on TV and movies. And while I can't speak for everyone else, most of my ideas turned out to be wrong.</div><div><br /></div><div>Did I assume I'd one day have a spacious NYC apartment with the most idyllic purple walls? No. But I did assume there would be some sort of core friend group with whom I'd share the ups and downs of life. To put it plainly, no one told me life was gonna be this way [clap clap clap clap].</div><div><br /></div><div>That's not to say I don't have friends, because I do. And I may be a bit biased, but I've always considered myself to be friend-worthy material. If I'm your friend, I'll be there for you. And I'm not just saying that to continue the <i>Friends </i>references. (OK, it's probably like 50% for the reference). But for some reason, I've almost always been the peripheral friend. I'm never part of the inner circle. If I happen to be present for an event, nobody is mad about it. Or if they are mad they keep it to themselves because, manners. But at the same time, they aren't mad if I'm not there either. When you're a kid, your friendships are very location-dependent. You're friends with the kids in your class or the kids on your street. And you might not even think about your school friends when you're not in school; as though they only exist in that building. And if you change schools or move, well those friendships are simply over. Sometimes I still feel that way.</div><div><br /></div><div>I can't say as I have a "best friend". I honestly don't think there's anyone out there who would refer to me as their best friend. I did when I was younger, but not anymore. Technically, my husband is my best friend. But that's different. I was under the impression that you're supposed to have a best friend in addition to your spouse. Let's say I won to a show or something and he couldn't go, well I would be at a loss as to who would want to go with me. </div><div><br /></div><div>There are only so many times you can find out about an event you weren't invited to before you start to wonder if there's a reason. Am I coming on too strong? Not strong enough? The point is, I have no idea. I also have no idea how to finish this post. I'm not looking for pity or anything. I suppose this was just a way for me to get my thoughts out.</div>Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-25786642121846390822021-05-09T21:07:00.002-04:002021-05-09T21:07:24.487-04:00A Soothing British Murder Show<p>I'm somewhat of a sucker for a British television show. Just give me a slightly rainy climate, people talking about puddings, and a pub with the word "cock" somehow in its name (but no one giggles about it because they're infinitely more mature than we are) and I'm in. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoMz_ce9OSxG_baLR26VPK5P4twkVAJIpDwsQjY2QoEKkj00ePIRrSMtPFGBH_iL3ZNrQIrj4p1kXvH0Jc0f77puU7iaECbbaBaEqb43yP7BD2eyrwSbCKGMH_valw2MqwE4T9o46b5Suz/s1125/Detective.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1071" data-original-width="1125" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoMz_ce9OSxG_baLR26VPK5P4twkVAJIpDwsQjY2QoEKkj00ePIRrSMtPFGBH_iL3ZNrQIrj4p1kXvH0Jc0f77puU7iaECbbaBaEqb43yP7BD2eyrwSbCKGMH_valw2MqwE4T9o46b5Suz/w200-h191/Detective.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I really enjoy this British procedural called <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Midsomer_Murders"><i>Midsomer Murder</i></a>. It's been on for approximately 4,000 years. There's something about it that soothes me. You can almost always count on a POV camera shot of a crime being committed. There you are, a killer, moving about through a fictitious English village when you come upon your victim. Inevitably, they turn towards you and say something like, "Oh, it's you" or "What are you doing here?...what's that in your hand? Ah!!! AHHH!!" And that's it. They're dead.<p></p><p>Here's a life-saving tip for you: avoid ambiguous greetings at all costs. Somebody sneaks up on you, by god you say their name. Full name. Loudly. "Oh! It's you, Sam Jones! I didn't expect to see you here, and carrying your hunting rifle no less." See, now you've ruined the mystery and narrowly escaped being murdered. You're welcome.</p><p>Another hot tip for you: Keep your ears peeled for a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theremin">theremin</a>. One of my favorite things about <i>Midsomer </i>is that they aren't afraid to use the theremin, the creepiest sounding instrument known to man. Theremin music never indicates a positive plot twist. If you hear a theremin, you get the hell out. I will admit it adds a layer of gravitas to the show's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dvD73A9eXXk">theme song</a>.<br /></p><p>One of my other favorite things about <i>Midsomer </i>is that the wife of the chief inspector is almost always a witness to a crime or loosely connected to the victim in some way. This bitch has found a lot of bodies. She's in every club and society in the village. Joining the local watercolor society, doing grave rubbings at a church where the local bell ringers are preparing for competition, appearing as an extra in a period piece being shot nearby? By god, Joyce Barnaby is there. [Those are all real scenarios from the show, BTW].</p><p>What I don't understand is why people don't stay the hell away from her? Chief Inspector Barnaby is on the show from 1997 to 2011. That's 14 years of this woman having at least some tangential connection to dozens of crime scenes. So, if I'm a resident of Midsomer county, and I see Joyce show up, I'm gone. "Oh it's sure nice to be helping out the village restore this old stone bridge. I can't wait to see it all cleaned up again...oh, is that...Joyce Barnaby? You know what, I just remembered that I have to clean the loo...in my flat...before the big, uh, Guy Fawkes celebration. See ya!"</p><p>I've begun re-watching the show from the beginning courtesy of Amazon Prime. It's oddly soothing. As I type, there's an episode on in the background and I literally just heard the phrase, "Oh, it's you." My night has been made. </p>Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-20474809790946384282021-05-02T21:17:00.001-04:002021-05-09T20:19:33.007-04:00Guess Who's Back? Me...and My Anxiety<p>It's been a long time (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yp4QI4GkLDo" target="_blank">I know shouldn't left you, left you, without a dope beat to step to, step to</a>). Almost three years, as a matter of fact. Here we are again. How many times have I stumbled back to this blog after taking an extended break? I'm nothing if not a prodigal blogger. I'm almost certain I have referred to myself that way in previous posts...I suppose there's something to be said for consistency. </p><p>About 10 days ago, I found myself having a good, old-fashioned panic attack. As my husband helped me get through it, I began describing what it feels like to have issues with anxiety. He suggested I write it down. Later that night, I opened up a note on my phone and started writing. It felt really nice to get my thoughts out. So nice, in fact, that I decided I would start blogging again once my new computer arrived.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZfafQowZn6R3KHJG2_gSQcneGfdtopiQ3wbtMp_3UEYgBYg8gU1G7UO7R9X3ytb5TauTSMbv2UQMuotnQrFB8TTziCQ9-QSjxR3jPe78Sr3H9XXUtvfiZaI10QCY40EKJu8wOuRuxOgdp/s750/Anxiety.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="714" data-original-width="750" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZfafQowZn6R3KHJG2_gSQcneGfdtopiQ3wbtMp_3UEYgBYg8gU1G7UO7R9X3ytb5TauTSMbv2UQMuotnQrFB8TTziCQ9-QSjxR3jPe78Sr3H9XXUtvfiZaI10QCY40EKJu8wOuRuxOgdp/w200-h191/Anxiety.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Anxiety is like a betrayal. You spend all this time treating your body right, taking care of it. You exercise, eat right, maintain an intense hypervigilance regarding everything you can think of so that you're prepared for whatever life decides to throw your way and what's your reward? Your mind and body combine powers (Captain Planet style) to launch a surprise attack of cruelly absurd mind games and concerning physical symptoms. Next thing you know, you can't watch TV or read a book because you're spiraling down the rabbit hole of worst case scenarios. Not to be outdone, your body then shows up and says something to the effect of, "I'll see your runaway thoughts and raise you nausea and chest tightness." Well played, anxiety. Well played. <p></p><p>I realize this first entry wasn't particularly funny or charming, but I have to shake off the dust somehow. I promise to be more entertaining next time. Plus, who even reads these things anymore? I suppose to keep up with the times this entire post should have been an Instagram caption accompanying an artistic photo of a coffee mug or whatever. Or I should be reading this aloud in my best NPR voice as nature photos with a filter that makes everything have a yellowy glow pass before your eyes on Tik Tok. Too late for that. I've already written everything here, not to mention gone to the trouble of adding an amusing image and YouTube link to a classic 2000 R&B jam. </p>Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-77141193871898667912018-06-25T20:10:00.003-04:002018-06-25T20:10:53.496-04:00We Go HighThere's been so much I've debated writing about over the past few weeks. I've gone back and forth on whether or not I should even address what's been splattered across the news. There's certainly no shortage of issues to be outraged about. That seems to be one of the key pillars of the Trump Administration; bombard the public with so many news items that it's imporssible to devote an adequate amount of time to look into any one of them (let alone all of them).<br />
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It's classic misdirection. Get the public fired up about misspelled, moronic tweets and the peaceful, lawful protests of professional athletes and maybe the public will forget that a large portion of Puerto Rico is still without power. If everyone is busy talking about some ugly, cheap-ass <a href="https://www.cnn.com/2018/06/21/politics/melania-trump-jacket-border-visit/index.html">jacket</a> Melania was wearing (despite the sweltering Texas heat), or the <a href="https://www.cbsnews.com/news/red-hen-restaurant-kicks-out-sarah-sanders-sparking-debate-about-confronting-trump-allies/">restaurant</a> that wouldn't serve a member of Trump's staff, maybe they won't notice when Trump mentions how he'd like to violate the Constitution and <a href="http://fortune.com/2018/06/25/trump-immigration-policy-twitter-due-process-aclu/">eliminate due process</a>.<br />
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Of course it doesn't help that the majority of the population is only interested in the headline or the soundbyte. Instead of reading the entire story and consulting multiple sources to ensure we get all the facts, many people believe whatever they see. And I'm not solely referring to Trump supporters when I say this. People from all walks of life, all political viewpoints (myself included), are guilty of reacting before getting all the facts. We're also guilty of not checking our sources. It's all too easy to click on a story without realizing it's not from a reputable, neutral source. Garbage sites spewing so-called "news" exist on both sides of the aisle. If you haven't consulted a <a href="http://www.allgeneralizationsarefalse.com/the-chart-version-3-0-what-exactly-are-we-reading/">Media Bias Chart</a> and see where your preferred news source falls. I've grown increasingly fond of <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/?noredirect=on"><i>The Washington Post</i></a> and <a href="http://www.npr.org/">NPR</a> over the past few years and definitely recommend both as credible news sources.<br />
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At first I considered not blogging about any of this. It's exhausting. Social media feeds are full of a combination of troubling stories by the dozen and people expressing that they "don't get on Facebook to see politics." It's much easier to ignore. The temptation to take a page from <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2018/03/10/style/the-man-who-knew-too-little.html">this man</a>'s playbook and isolate yourself from everything.<br />
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But isn't that its own brand of privilege? The more I thought about it, the more I considered how much the African American community would rather opt out of reading articles about black men being mistreated, injured, and killed by the authorities. And any immigrant, legal or otherwise, would rather not listen to the cries of children who have been separated from their parents at the border. But they can't ignore those stories, because they have a direct impact on their lives. As a responsible citizen, a Christian, and (I'd like to think) decent human being, I can't ignore it either. I have to stay informed and make my voice heard.<br />
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I encourage you to resist that temptation to just give up. When I feel overwhelmed by it all and consider just staying quiet, I remember one of my favorite quotes: <i>All it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.</i> While painting my bathroom this weekend, a line from the <i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-nmqQlW-sMo">Hamilton</a> </i>soundtrack rang true: <i>History has its eyes on you</i>. I may not be as important as George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, or Lin Manuel Miranda, but when this is all over and we look back on what is shaping up to be one of the darker periods in our recent history, I want to know that I was on the right side of things. We need to keep speaking out and focusing on the important issues.<br />
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The phrase important issues leads me to my second point. Focus on what truly matters and learn to identify the stories this administration loves to use as bait. Kanye West suddenly being pro-Trump. Melania's jacket. Sarah Huckabee Sanders being asked to leave The Red Hen. Don't get hooked. In the grand scheme of things, those items are barely even blips on the radar. They are of no real consequence when you compare them to the actual policies being used (or eliminated) by the current powers that be. I'll be the first to admit, that's a tall order to fill. The desire to voice our opinion over everything that crosses our path is almost in our nature. But before we do, we have to ask ourselves: <i>Is this the most important issue on the table? Do I have all the facts? Did I get this from a credible source? </i><b>Don't miss the forest for the trees.</b><br />
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I've been mulling over this post for a few days, and my final thought came when I read about Sarah Huckabee-Sanders being asked to leave The Red Hen. As a self-professed bleeding-heart Liberal, my first thought was, "Good. I wouldn't want her in my restaurant either." The whole refusal of service issue door flew wide open when the Supreme Court upheld an Indiana bakery's right to refuse to bake a cake for a gay couple's wedding. And it is, after all, a two-way street. So it serves them right. But then I thought about it some more.<br />
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The more I thought about it, the more I wished they'd just left her alone. And it's not because I have any sympathy for a woman I feel is paid to lie to the American people on a daily basis. And it's not because of the backlash the restaurant is now receiving from the pro-Trump community. It's because fighting fire with fire is not always the answer. As Gandhi once said, <i>An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind</i>. I believe that in order to accurately highlight the ridiculousness of this administration and all it stands for, we (those who oppose it) must behave above reproach. Let's not give them any ammunition to say we're just as bad as they are, we started it, or any other schoolyard accusation. If that's what it takes, let's turn the proverbial cheek until we're so dizzy we have to pop a Dramamine. That's the only way we'll come out on top.<br />
<br />
As Michelle Obama said at the 2016 Democratic National Convention, "When they go low, we go high." <b>Let's go high.</b><br />
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<b><br /></b>Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-34264001170444294192018-04-17T20:28:00.002-04:002018-04-17T20:28:15.456-04:00Late Night Thoughts: The Babysitters Club<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjttbTQZnwZHKk9yRqMLDbcitASdz-p_hhB2vZgIXf5S-TcvtYXbMhLRYPShFRWJCyq_wTGXQvBaHROvl3aKjPosL4DTsRCSiP1leXMx7yS2_SCsr1ZOx-kOchrdM5oxz70A1muDWamIH05/s1600/creepycrawlers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="677" data-original-width="1200" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjttbTQZnwZHKk9yRqMLDbcitASdz-p_hhB2vZgIXf5S-TcvtYXbMhLRYPShFRWJCyq_wTGXQvBaHROvl3aKjPosL4DTsRCSiP1leXMx7yS2_SCsr1ZOx-kOchrdM5oxz70A1muDWamIH05/s200/creepycrawlers.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">My childhood's most memorable smell.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
For some reason, after I took my dogs out around 2 a.m. my brain decided to alternate between coming up with ideas for work projects and reminiscing about products from my childhood. One part of my brain would have an epiphany about the Title I Handbook and then another part would say, <i>Hey, remember the smell from the Creepy Crawlers machine? That sure was a specific smell.</i><br />
<br />
Eventually I landed on <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Baby-Sitters_Club">The Babysitters Club</a>. Like many millenial girls I devoured every <i>BSC </i>novel. All I wanted was to move to Stoneybrook and start attending meetings. Unfortunately for me, Stoneybrook was fictional and I actually wasn't that into babysitting. Real life babysitting shenanigans are far less glamorous and delightful than those dreamt up by Ann M. Martin.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDK9XgqaMPJeeu15nNyz12xz2ilg0rxTeemV2o1K5D4346Lc-jlprde9M3eCxfovy4O6a326nLuOXri1MYPAV1ux_QqPflgMKWLgzlT2AGxhK6XAr9QgIqzx6AvDE82TDAc8KnYC4K-sY5/s1600/BSC+Book.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="344" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDK9XgqaMPJeeu15nNyz12xz2ilg0rxTeemV2o1K5D4346Lc-jlprde9M3eCxfovy4O6a326nLuOXri1MYPAV1ux_QqPflgMKWLgzlT2AGxhK6XAr9QgIqzx6AvDE82TDAc8KnYC4K-sY5/s200/BSC+Book.jpg" width="137" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">I, too, pined for the <br />perfect boy.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Everybody had a favorite babysitter. And mine was Claudia. We were both artists with a <i>Clarissa Explains It All</i> fashion-sense. We both enjoyed Nancy Drew and junk food. Clearly, same person. I've even tried my hand at solving a <a href="http://www.bloginblack.com/2009/02/nancy-drew-and-curious-case-of-mystery.html">mystery of my own</a> and I feel as though my love of junk food and sugar goes without saying. Plus, Claudia was Japanese and that dove-tailed nicely with my childhood desire to be Asian.<br />
<br />
Yes you read that correctly. Oh, has that particular goal never presented itself on this blog? Goal is a strong word. But when I was in early elementary school my best friend was Chinese-American and I thought that was the coolest thing ever. At some point, I realized this could never be.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I'd like to thank 2 a.m. for this little stroll down memory lane and BuzzFeed for this delightful list of <a href="https://www.buzzfeed.com/expresident/facts-about-the-baby-sitters-club-that-will-blow?utm_term=.bteAxwpj5#.ywaERBj3A">BSC Factoids</a>.Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-63372566372503017102018-04-12T20:41:00.004-04:002018-04-12T20:42:22.264-04:00Holy ShiplapAm I the only one who lays awake at night wondering what percentage of living rooms in Waco, Texas are painted a cool gray with at least one wall covered in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shiplap">shiplap</a>? How many farm sinks sit in gigantic kitchen islands with cool pendant lights hovering above? How many gallons of white paint have been drained in covering up traditional brick?<br />
<br />
If you don't know what I'm talking about, your remote never finds its way over to HGTV. I'm talking about a little show called <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fixer_Upper_(TV_series)">Fixer Upper</a></i>. <i>Fixer Upper</i> is to HGTV what the <i>Law & Order</i> franchise is to USA and TNT; at any given time, you have a 37.4% chance of turning on HGTV and being greeted by Chip and Joanna Gaines. Full disclosure: I love this show. I'm watching it on Hulu right now. But as is the case with most things I love, I have no problem making fun of it.<br />
<br />
I had every intention of writing a post about the Magnolia Mafia and their not-so-hostile takeover of central (is it central? I don't know. I don't do maps.) Texas. However, I'm not the only person with strong feelings and a strange relationship with this show. I stumbled across a great post from Jezebel, <i><a href="https://jezebel.com/my-tortured-relationship-with-the-hgtv-show-fixer-upper-1783282897">My Tortured Relationship with the HGTV Show Fixer Upper</a></i>, that already stated some of what I had been thinking. And if you haven't watched Whoa Susannah's hilarious vlog, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/whoasusannah/videos/1631123840275232/"><i>The Only Woman to Never Have Seen Fixer Upper</i></a>, what have you been doing with your life?<br />
<br />
What makes a quality Fixer Upper episode? There are a few things you are guaranteed to see every time. And if you're like me and Amy Jo, odds are you'll love them almost every time.<br />
Here are my top five <i>Fixer Upper</i> components:<br />
<ol>
<li>Chip acting a fool. Chip is goofy, silly, and loves attention. Whether he's eating a bug or throwing himself through the drywall on demo day, Chip will do at least one ridiculous thing every episode. He will also make a big deal about Demo Day. He treats an aspect of his career like most of us treat our birthday or Christmas. At first glance it seems silly, but the more I think about it the more I admire that enthusiasm.</li>
<li>A visit to a local thrift store and/or craftsman. Whether it's custom carpentry by Clint, some unique metalwork by Jimmy Don, or a trip to the Cedar Chest Antique Mall, Team Gaines believes in buying local and I'm all about that.</li>
<li>Delicious treats that no one eats. These may or may not be on display in the home during the reveal, but you can bet Joanna will have some beverages (in mason jars) out and a plate of gigantic pastries when the homeowner(s) come over to see her design plans. These items are rarely touched. I can think of one episode where a man took a cookie, after Joanna told him to. Am I alone in thinking I wouldn't be able to focus on the design if that deliciousness was anywhere in my periphery? (<i>Oh yea, removing a wall would open up that space...I'm sorry, are those cookies?</i>)</li>
<li>The largest kitchen island you've ever seen in your life. Joanna loves a big kitchen...who doesn't? And these freaking islands are something else. They may actually qualify as literal islands, I'm not sure what the square footage requirements are for islands but these ones are huge! You know how places like the Philippines appear on a globe or map? Well that's what the greater Waco area looks like from space. </li>
<li>You will hear the following terms: farmhouse, shiplap, open concept, recessed lighting, updated fireplace, corbels, french doors, demo day, baton, white-washed, reclaimed wood, antique [barn] doors, barn doors...</li>
</ol>
<div>
Speaking of shiplap. I'm fairly ambivalent on it myself, but I do love watching people get extremely excited about it. I still haven't figured out how it's different than plain ol' wood, but whatever. They lose their minds; look, it's shiplap! Joanna Gaines has single-handedly done for shiplap what De Beers did for diamonds. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The Magnolia Mafia has taken over Waco. They have the renovation and design business, the Silos shop and bakery, a bed and breakfast, and most recently a restaurant. And it's turned into a vacation destination for hundreds of people. It's kind of unbelievable, but great news for a town formerly known for the Branch Davidians.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I do wonder how many people in Waco aren't fans of the show, the design style, the whole shebang? I like to think there are some rebel citizens who've decorated their homes with a defiantly modern style or something. Keep fighting the good fight, y'all. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As previously implied, I tease because I love. I enjoy the show, the people, everything about it. If it's on, I'll watch...even if I do laugh a little.</div>
Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-5686602414590904522018-04-04T21:41:00.000-04:002018-04-04T21:41:16.136-04:00Looking Back Before Looking ForwardFor the past few months I've been itching to write again. But I haven't had the slightest clue what to write about. Everything about my life seems so different than when I started this blog 10 years ago (what?!). I feel compeled to move forward, but first I have to look back.<br />
<br />
Back in Black began in July 2008. Recently fired from a mere 8 weeks at my one and only grown-up job I found myself back at Kroger, still living at home, and yet to go on my first date despite being 23 years old. <a href="http://www.bloginblack.com/2008/07/they-didnt-teach-this-in-college.html">I certainly felt like a failure, nothing was going like it was supposed to.</a> However, by the end of the year I'd decided to go back to school for a Masters in Education and become a Spanish teacher.<br />
<br />
2009 was a blur. Everything listed above was still true, but now I was a full-time student again. I completed a two-year Masters program in 11 months and landed my first interview to be a teacher. I was fortunate enough to be hired as a Spanish teacher at my alma mater, Lafayette High School, (inspite of <a href="http://www.bloginblack.com/2009/12/natures-reputation-ruiner-cold-sore.html">rocking a decent cold sore</a> at the interview) and my new career would begin when classes resumed after winter break.<br />
<br />
When <a href="http://www.bloginblack.com/2010/01/work-is-hardwho-knew.html">I began teaching in January 2010</a>, I'd clearly found my calling. My purpose. I was in love. Sure there were hard days and frustrations, but I loved it. I loved the kids and I loved what I did. I spent almost every waking hour either teaching, grading, or working on lesson plans. And that was life. Throw in some thrills like a successful run with Nutrisystem (I like to mark my life by weight loss accomplishments, rare and fleeting as they are), exciting food allergy discoveries, and getting <a href="http://www.bloginblack.com/2010/08/schools-back-in-session.html">my sweet puppy Lola</a> and it seemed as though everything was coming together. Life went on like this until late spring 2012.<br />
<br />
Then I got pink slipped. <a href="http://www.bloginblack.com/2012/06/hitting-fan.html">My first (spoiler alert) pink slip</a>. To quote Ron Burgendy, I was in a glass case of emotion. Anger. Sadness. Frustration. About a month later I self medicated at my best friend's wedding by getting drunker than I'd been since my college days. Always a solid idea. I spent the summer going on <a href="http://www.bloginblack.com/2012/07/devotion-from-honduras-timing.html">my first mission trip to Honduras</a>, eating any feelings regarding unemployment, and applying to countless jobs. The end of the summer was fast approaching and I was soon #blessed to be hired at Squires Elementary School (despite my fly being down during the interview).<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.bloginblack.com/2012/08/its-elementary.html">Teaching elementary school</a> was hands-down my favorite teaching experience (no offense to my high school students, y'all were great too...but those little one, aww). I was thriving. And by December 2012 (after countless misadventures in online dating) I not only went on my first date (finally, at 27) but began a relationship that is going strong to this day.<br />
<br />
A lot of things happened between 2012 and 2014. I fell in love. I spent 3 weeks <a href="http://www.bloginblack.com/2013/08/">teaching English in China</a>. I started my <a href="http://www.bloginblack.com/2013/12/its-gonna-be-good-day.html">Educational Specialist degree</a>. I got engaged. There were so many great things happening, I suppose life had to balance things out. Enter pink slip number 2. That one hurt. I actually didn't even write about it. Looks like I was in for another summer of managing emotions and applying for jobs...oh, and <a href="http://www.bloginblack.com/2014/05/wedding-plans.html">planning a wedding</a>.<br />
<br />
But I survived. And why shouldn't I? People have been through much worse. Anyway, I was hired at East Jessamine High School and things were good. We got married. I moved to a teeny house in Frankfort. There was a lot of adjustment...but life was going good. So good that I didn't blog a damn thing.<br />
<br />
2016 hit me like a ton of bricks. I was in my second year at EJHS but the new administration was changing everything I loved about the school. It wasn't the same. I had a feeling I wouldn't be returning for the next school year.<br />
<br />
And then the shit hit the fan like never before in my life. I lost my baby girl, Lola. After about a week of being sick, an x-ray showed us that she had ingested some sort of small metal object (perhaps a needle?) and required surgery. Around 11 pm January 8, 2016 we received a call from the surgeon. There was too much damage and she recommended that we put her down. We drove to Lexington, called my mom who met us at the animal hospital, and together we said goodbye to my little girl. I took off work and I sobbed. Honestly, I'm sobbing as I write this. I received so much love and support from my family, friends, and students, but nothing made me feel better. On a good day, I was numb. On a bad day, I was blaming myself for everything. <i>She must've gotten ahold of a pin or needle I used for cross-stitching or sewing, meaning I'd killed her. Why didn't I follow through with my plan to go by the hospital and visit her before her surgery instead of telling myself that I shouldn't get her worked up because she'd be home soon? It's been over two years and I still struggle with those thoughts from time to time.</i> On an in-between day I wondered what I could do to myself to be able to feel again.<br />
<br />
Slowly I began to feel normal again. We decided to get a puppy. Another Morkie, from the same breeder that I bought Lola from. It didn't feel too soon. My heart was literally broken, and this seemed like something to help me heal.<br />
<br />
And that's when I got my third (and final) pink slip. Sure, I'd already been looking for other jobs, but that was on my terms. This wasn't. But, if the beginning of 2016 had taught me anything it was the fact that shit happens. Well technically, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=edmqTODMZC4">Forrest Gump</a> taught me that. I went on more interviews than ever before. Applied for more jobs than ever before...including at middle schools (EEK!).<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Sidebar - I was interviewing at a middle school and someone on the panel asked where I lived. Since we were in Frankfort, I responded "here" and one of the interviewers asked, "Frankfort?" Ever the comedian, I automatically smiled and joked, "No, the school." What? Who does that? Who thinks that's a good idea during an interview? Answer: Me, aka the person who was not hired at that school.</blockquote>
I swear, not every interview was like that. I actually had some sense in most of them (I think). But there were no jobs to be had. The school year began, without me. For the first time in my teaching career, I wasn't teaching. I decided to serve as a long-term sub for a friend going on maternity leave. She taught AP Psychology and AP Government, but I know all the lyrics to <i>Hamilton </i>so I was basically an expert.<br />
Did I mention that all of this coincided with our house selling? We'd literally just had a conversation about taking it off the market until I had a job and we got an offer that we couldn't pass up. Funny how life works, isn't it?<br />
<br />
I interviewed for everything an anything under the sun. I accepted a state job with The Office of Vital Statistics and between my sub job ending and starting that job, I got a better offer from the Department of Education.<br />
<br />
And that's where I've been since November 2016. While I enjoy my job, not teaching has been a huge adjustment. I find myself unsure of what to do with my free time. For the first time since 2010, my evenings and weekends are my own. I'm not constantly grading and planning. I'm not spending my own money on classroom supplies, decorations, and special treats for students. I miss teaching, specifically teaching elementary school. I struggle with feeling that I'm not making a difference. It's hard to match the heartwarming feeling you get from teaching. Now I have job security. No more struggling towards tenure only to have it yanked from my grasp. And when we decide to start a family, I'll spend my off the clock hours with them instead of on paperwork.<br />
<br />
I started this post with not only a declaration of my desire to return to writing but also an admission of fear and uncertainty in doing so. For weeks (months?) I've asked myself tons of questions: <i>Where do I start? Do I still have it in me? Is my gift for writing and story-telling still there? What do I even have to write about?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Although I can tell my writing skills are rusty, I can also tell that they're still there. I think I needed this cathartic word vomit of how my life has changed to get me going. Now I can return to my special brand of stream of consciousness riddled with extremely specific pop culture deep cuts.Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-80550894889713188432017-05-25T18:02:00.000-04:002017-05-25T18:02:30.887-04:00Dental Misadventure (title credit to my husband)Haven't posted in two and a half years, blah blah blah. 2015-2017 has been a whirlwind. 2016 was the worst year of my life, thus far and I feel like things are balancing out again and I'm honestly happy. More on that later, on to the story of how I walked out of the dentist's office.<br />
<br />
Background: After my 2016 pink slip, it took awhile to find a job and I had to forego luxuries such as dental insurance. When I did get a real job I had to pick my own insurance from a list. I picked one with my dentist on it. Fastforward to my appointment in December, I drive to Lexington (oh, I live in Frankfort now) and discover that my dentist does <i>not </i>take that insurance so I have to leave sans cleaning. BTW, there were a minimal number of approved dentists in Frankfort on the list from my insurance. I finally got around to making an appointment with a dentist here in Frankfort and went for my first appointment yesterday at 4:30. And that's where our story begins...<br />
<br />
I walked into the office and immediately things seemed shady. It was sort of like going to TJ Maxx or Marshall's; those stores are perfectly fine, you can get some great deals, there's never anything outright disturbing, but you know you're not at the most high-scale establishment in the biz.<br />
<br />
I'm called back for the standard "new patient" X-rays. I then received more dental X-rays in one sitting than in all my 32 years on this earth combined. First of all, I thought I saw the girl put on gloves, then removed the mouth thing from the previous patient and then put my mouth thing on (with the same gloves). I was probably wrong about that...let's hope. Anyway, they do the standard X-ray and then maybe 20 more. I would've counted if I'd known it would be that intense.<br />
<br />
Now I'm back out front, waiting for a room to become ready. I'm called back a few moments later. The chairs have those TVs on them; this will shock you, but despite my close relationship with television this isn't really my thing. The hygenist then asked if I'd had a "gum rating" at my previous dentist. Ummmm, not to my knowledge. She then pokes the gum area around every tooth and relays numbers to another hygenist. 2's and 3's are good, 4's and 5's are signs of gingivitis (in case you were not familiar with the gum rating process). She also announced every time my gums bled, post-poke. I will now mention that I've always had pretty good teeth; but it had been a year since my last appointment so I didn't expect things to be as good as usual.<br />
<br />
Bad news, y'all: I had some 4's. And now we have to discuss the situation. Now I'm hearing words like "treatment plan," "home regimen" and how I'll need to return in 10-14 days until I'm all better. I get a folder with my plan...oh, and I'll need to get prescription toothpaste. And prescription mouthwash, because those are things. So I'm being polite, shaking my head and saying, "mmhmm," while thinking, "Nope. Not doing that. Or that. Prescription toothpaste? Nope. Coming back in 2 weeks? That's cute."<br />
<br />
By this point it's about 5:15 and now it's just me, chilling in the room. Back to those little TVs. It was tuned to FXX and they just began Seth MacFarlane's 2014 cinematic tragedy: <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2557490/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">A Million Ways to Die in the West</a>. Like most humans with at least partial brain function, I firmly believe that Seth MacFarlane should just stop. Stop everything. Cartoons, movies, hosting events, writing, speaking--stop. This "film" was never on my list of things to see. Looking at cast on IMDB makes me question the respect I had for a number of well-known celebrities. I try to change the channel, everything else is static. Turn it off? Nope. I cannot be trusted with that power. Well, how bad could it be? It's on basic cable at 5:00 p.m., after all. Allow me to now share a few of the lines I unfortunately heard (and read thanks to Closed Captioning):<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Shoot that cowboy c*m in my face.</li>
<li>Sorry, I had to give a b*** job.</li>
<li>I think he wants an**</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJX2-zE7Mfv70DWW2CMKcxjDkSplVyGOCFu9EZHrw_8jyZY-7bZmonUbsCNjd-h0diCMv35yVdtDZI7EGYohaaQj9-TUbJTWWsvJZUey_sq04KfCiNN9-TmpFQhQelJUu-yFgjhQc4URsA/s1600/Not+Amused.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="358" data-original-width="598" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJX2-zE7Mfv70DWW2CMKcxjDkSplVyGOCFu9EZHrw_8jyZY-7bZmonUbsCNjd-h0diCMv35yVdtDZI7EGYohaaQj9-TUbJTWWsvJZUey_sq04KfCiNN9-TmpFQhQelJUu-yFgjhQc4URsA/s320/Not+Amused.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />I am not now nor have I ever been what you might call "easily offended". But, come on! That's just pure trash. Actually I'd rather look at trash. If given the choice to watch that movie or sit in a dumpster for the day, I'd pick the dumpster. I turned the volume down but I could still hear it on <i>all the other </i>TV's in the office. What I did not hear was anyone saying, "We should turn this off." For what it's worth, I turned my little TV to static.<br />
<br />
Now it's 5:30. No cleaning. No sight of a dentist. No hope. If this is how these people conduct business, do I really want them [literally] all up in my grill? No. No I do not. I got up, took off my little bib, and left the folder with my gingivitis home regimen instructions in the chair (darn). As I left, I stopped at the desk and said, "I have to go." The girl wanted to get the office manager so we could reschedule my appointment. I told her, I can just call for that. (Except I won't)<br />
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The search for dental care in our capitol continues.Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-14817096951974247812014-10-16T16:11:00.001-04:002014-10-16T16:11:05.575-04:00Is this a Good Thing or a Bad Thing?<p> My last post was in July. What have I been doing since then? Working. If it's not stuff for my actual job, it's stuff for my EdS degree (aka my Masters in Hoop Jumping). I've managed to work a few tiny wedding plans in here and there...it's a good thing we set the date for next fall because I couldn't have done all of this and planned an entire wedding at the same time!</p><p>I thought that I'd have time to post some stuff on my blogs during fall break, and honestly this is the first chance I've had. Really the only reason I'm not working on stuff is that I'm getting my hair done. There's not much you can do with a head full of foil. </p><p>On to today's subject. I woke up around 4:30 or 5 this morning and naturally started thinking. I'd been in a deep sleep; you know when you wake up and you can tell you've been in exactly the same position all night? Yea, it was one of those. Whenever I wake up like that I'm always excited because I think, "Yea, way to go! REM sleep and whatnot." The downside is that I can't continue sleeping in that spot because now it's all sweaty and gross and unacceptable. </p><p>So I rolled over to the other side of the bed, the completely cool side of the bed--score. Who doesn't love the cool side of the pillow? Probably terrorists. I checked the time, 4:30 or 5. It didn't matter today because I was on break but typically this would be exciting because that means there's more time to sleep. Jim Gaffigan says waking up and realizing you still have time to sleep is like finding $1,000. </p><p>At this point, most people would just fall back asleep. But lucky bucket of crazy that I am, I had to go back and forth weighing whether or not my current situation was a good thing or a bad thing. </p><ul><li>Deep sleep: good thing</li><li>Sweaty sheets that must now be avoided: bad thing</li><li>Relocation to untouched, cool sheets: delightfully good thing</li><li>Time to sleep: good thing</li><li>Brain keeping you awake with stupid list: bad thing</li></ul><p>Ultimately, I came to the following conclusion. What's wrong with me? Everything. </p><p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-19455002611729531552014-07-03T10:25:00.003-04:002014-07-03T10:25:54.041-04:00Higher Education in the Wizarding WorldMy last post dealt with a super serious topic, so I thought I should post something lighthearted to balance it out. A few weeks ago or maybe it was months, I don't know because it all runs together, I was behind a car with a Harry Potter bumper sticker. You'd better believe I was all over that.<br />
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Obviously I found this amusing, but then I decided to spend a significant amount of time thinking about it (that's what I do). My over-thinking led to a number of questions:<br />
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<ul>
<li>Does Hogwarts have tuition? They don't mention it in the book, but I'm sure it does. I mean, they provide room and board to all the students for crying out loud. It's a far cry from your traditional public school. </li>
<li>Are there scholarships? There must be, otherwise how could the Weasleys afford to send all of their children there? </li>
<li>Are there other school options in the wizarding world? You have to be accepted to Hogwarts based on your potential for magical ability but not all children born to wizard parents have that ability. Take Filch, for example, he's a <a href="http://www.hp-lexicon.org/wizworld/blood-status-names.html#Squib">Squib </a>(non-magical person born to wizard parents). What would be the point of a Squib going to Hogwarts? </li>
<li>Where do wizard children go to school prior to the age of eleven? And what do they learn? Regular math and stuff?</li>
<li>Did Muggle parents ever question their children being accepted? "Hey honey, an owl just dropped off this letter saying our kid is a witch/wizard and that we should send her/him to this school that we've never heard of. Well, that seems legit." Did any of them ever say no?</li>
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Technically FAFSA applies to post-secondary education and that's not what Hogwarts is. Hogwarts is a secondary school. If you want to get bogged down in semantics, this bumper sticker is inaccurate. But it brings me to my main quesstion: Why is there no higher education for wizards? I can't imagine that sat well with Hermione Granger.<br />
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Seven years of schooling and you're done. That's all the education you need as a wizard. You're 18 years old and nobody thinks you should maybe go to some more classes? Not even to do something really specialized, like be an Auror or a Professor? That means that by the end of their time at Hogwarts, Seamus Finnegan and Neville Longbottom had the same level of education as Albus Dumbledore. Sure he had decades of life experience, but they had taken all the same classes.<br />
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I'm required to have a Masters and all I teach is Spanish, I don't even get into levitation, transfiguration, Dark Arts, charms, etc. If I were going to send my kid off to learn all of that stuff I'd feel more at ease knowing that the teacher had more than the wizard equivalent of a high school diploma under his hat.<br />
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For the record: I would go to Hogwarts today if an owl showed up at my house. Same goes for my future children, I'm so down with them attending Hogwarts and learning magic.Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-48886191642803843732014-07-02T22:34:00.003-04:002014-07-02T22:34:26.214-04:00My Letter to Hobby LobbyI know I'm not the only person who's doing this, and some of you might be sick and tired of hearing about the Supreme Court ruling by now, but I can't not give my opinion on this matter. I'm not going to apologize. And I'm not going to tell you not to read it. You should read it. This is a big deal.<div>
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Dear Hobby Lobby,</div>
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So, you're a person now. You have religious beliefs. And you don't have to pay for your employees' contraception because doing so violates those religious beliefs. How many sleepless nights has this whole ordeal caused you, Hobby Lobby? I'm surprised you've been able to maintain normal business hours during such a trying time. You brave little soldier, you.</div>
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I'd like to take this time to tell you about why I use contraception. Now, it might get a little awkward...to be honest, you're the first craft store I've discussed my lady times with. I don't make a habit of working these types of things into regular conversation, but since you've made the reproductive rights of your female employees your business and participated in setting back women's rights, I figured I'd make an exception.</div>
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I started taking birth control when I was 18 years old. I am now 29 years old. Now I know what you're thinking, Hobby Lobby: What a whore! Believe it or not, preventing pregnancy is not why I'm on birth control. As a matter of fact, I am a Christian who goes to church on a regular basis--are you shocked that we don't share the same "closely held religious beliefs"? Prepare to be shocked yet again! I am currently engaged and planning a wedding for next fall. Most people assume that my fiancé and I are sleeping together or that we're going to move in together before we get married. Nope. Wrong on both counts. I don't typically volunteer that information or correct people who make the assumption, not because I'm embarrassed but because I don't care what people think and it's no one's business but mine and my fiancé's. The only reason I'm sharing it now is to prove a point: Not everyone using some sort of contraception fits into the small-minded, preconceived notion that you created. </div>
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I don't know how much you actually know about periods, birth control, or women in general, Hobby Lobby; but based on the fact that you took this case to the Supreme Court, I'm going to assume you know very little. Periods are supposed to come once a month and last for 3-5 days. Prior to taking birth control, mine were never like that. Sometimes a period would last for a really long time (my "record" was 3 weeks). Sometimes it would be so brief, it's like it hadn't even happened. And then I would go months with nothing. </div>
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Initially I didn't complain much, I was never the <i>Are You There God, It's Me Margaret</i> type of girl who longed for her period. But the fact that I never knew when the freaking thing was going to show up, was starting to piss me off. I'm glad I did finally tell my doctor about these issues because I found out that it could be the sign of and/or lead to bigger and more serious problems. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Irregular periods can be caused by something as basic as stress to uterine polyps, Endometriosis, Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, and premature ovary failure. Additionally, if you aren't having a period every month, it means that your uterine lining is not being shed every month (like it should be) and can increase your risk of uterine cancer. So my doctor put me on birth control and it's been smooth sailing ever since. So it's not all about preventing pregnancy. </div>
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One of the specific contraceptive devices you won't be paying for is the IUD. Some people consider an IUD to be more abortion-like than traditional birth control. I'm just going to throw this out there: some women are not able to use traditional birth control (pills) and thus an IUD might be their only option. Since you think IUD's are so evil, I should probably alert you to something: Your employee retirement plan is invested in mutual funds of companies who actually make emergency contraceptives and IUDs. Roughly 75% of the retirement plan as of December 2013, if you want to get technical. I thought I should tell you about this because since your "closely held religious beliefs" are so important to you, I know there's no way you would've knowingly allowed this to happen. Knowingly investing in these companies while filing a lawsuit refusing to pay for the products they make would negate your entire argument. It would imply that all this comes down to is money. Saving money wherever possible, at the cost of women's rights. But I know that's not what happened here, so now you can go and correct that grievous error! </div>
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My main purpose of this letter was to introduce you to the variety of functions of birth control. But I'd also like to take this time to tell you that I will no longer be shopping in your store. I don't know that I'd take the time to tell a <i>corporation </i>that, but since you're now a <i>person</i>, you deserve to know. It won't hurt me one bit to become exclusively loyal to Michael's. Michael's is open every day of the week, and they give teachers a 15% discount. That's right Hobby Lobby, I'm a teacher. Teachers buy a lot of craft stuff. The average teacher spends $1,000 of their own money on their class/classroom each year...and you don't even give them a discount? Well, no matter! Really, the main reason I found myself at your store was convenience. It's closer to my house than Michael's. </div>
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I hope you are being flooded with similar letters, Hobby Lobby. I hope other people are pledging to never return to your store. Women's rights took a step backwards when you received your ruling and that hurts me. Any time someone else thinks that they know what is best for my body or the body of any woman, hurts me. Whenever someone thinks that they deserve to have a say in my medical decisions without my consent, it hurts me.</div>
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This is not about me being a liberal, a Democrat, pro-choice, pro-Obama, etc. This is simply about me being a woman. Ultimately, the ones who will be hurt by your actions are women, from all walks of life.</div>
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Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-59668749570373064692014-05-29T17:31:00.001-04:002014-05-29T17:31:09.174-04:00Wedding Plans<br />
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My fiancé and I are still in the very early stages of wedding planning, but we have started doing a few things. Basically all we've done is make a lot of boards on Pinterest and add a lot of pins! Most of my time has been focused on applying for jobs since I was pink slipped, but when I need to take my mind off of that I like to escape to Pinterest.<br />
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My most recent accomplishment was separating the various pins from one wedding board onto more specific (aka OCD) boards. Anyway, I was texting with Jerry last night and he mentioned that he had been looking at one of my new boards and it quickly turned into a blog-worthy conversation...<br />
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<a href="http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/76/13/66/761366409680186760e4690e327a5070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="New Otterbox Commuter wallet case keeps your phone your cash safe." border="0" height="200" src="http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/76/13/66/761366409680186760e4690e327a5070.jpg" width="150" /></a><b>Jerry</b>: I hope you don't want any burlap at the wedding. I'm seeing a lot of it.<br />
<b>Me</b>: That's why I love you. No burlap. No mason jars. No rhyming crap about where to sit.*<br />
<b>Jerry</b>: I pinned something with jars, but it is an article about all sorts of DIY ideas.<br />
<b>Me</b>: I know.<br />
<b>Jerry</b>: Thank goodness. Some of that stuff is pretty ridiculous. WTF does burlap have to do with a wedding? Unless you're Amish.<br />
<a href="http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/99/86/44/998644bc379bf4469faabe6e33ee850b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/99/86/44/998644bc379bf4469faabe6e33ee850b.jpg" width="157" /></a><b>Me</b>: It's the whole country look. It's right up there with your other favorite: dresses & cowboy boots. I can't stand the poems. "<i>Choose a seat not a side, we're all family once the knot is tied!</i>" What? No. Here's my sign: "You're an adult, go find your seat and sit down. If you need a poem to help you sit down, you're at the wrong wedding."<br />
<b>Jerry</b>: Oh, sounds delightful. That is perfect as well as so us, we should have that as a sign.<br />
<b>Me</b>: "<i>Here's your cup for the rest of the night, fill it up with whatever tastes right!</i>" How about, "This is a cup, if you're thirsty put a drink in it"? <i>Create an activity book for the plethora of small kids who attend the wedding.</i> Or just leave your small kids at home. They don't want to come to a wedding.<br />
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I may or may not start a list of all the things you won't be seeing at our wedding.<br />
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*The rhyming crap is almost always written on a chalkboard.<br />
<br />Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-85443943112070653092014-04-01T09:23:00.001-04:002014-04-01T09:23:53.430-04:00I Know Nothing of Javert<p><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">I've had "Les Mis" stuck in my head for several days after watching a short clip from the <em>Inside the Actors Studio </em>with the cast of <em>How I Met Your Mother</em>. Neil Patrick Harris (love him) and Jason Segel sang part of <em>The Confrontation</em>, with NPH playing Javert (way better than Russell Crowe) and Segel playing Val Jean. </span></p><div class="separator" style="text-align: center;"><iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="500" height="305" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/gz1MwhjTWIw" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">It was a really cool clip but now it's left me wondering, why was Javert initially chasing Val Jean? Was it just because he was a d-bag?</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">I've been racking my brain for days; mentally going through the plot of the play and trying to make sure I didn't miss something. Val Jean got his yellow ticket of leave so he didn't escape the prison and ultimately he didn't steal the silver because the priest gave it to him. Then he started a new life under an assumed name (is that illegal?), but at that point Javert was already tracking him down.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">Weren't Javert's bosses like, "Hey, we have bigger <em>poisson </em>to fry than help you railroad an innocent guy just because you don't like him but enjoy rocking epic duets together. We aren't telling you how to do your job but maybe during all the singing you should've just grabbed him. Don't you feel just a bit silly for that?" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">And on top of that, Javert can't seem to catch him. When he sees Val Jean as M'sieur le Mayor he doesn't even recognize him. No double take, nothing. Val Jean spent 19 years in prison under Javert's "watchful" eye. You're telling me that after 19 years you don't recognize a man's voice or his eyes? Come on, Javert! Get your head in the game, son. Also, Val Jean isn't exactly laying low now is he? He's a major business owner and the freaking mayor. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">But somehow Val Jean manages to elude Javert for the entirety of Cosette's life. Yea, Val Jean picks up some major baggage while on the run and Javert still can't catch him. Now he's got a girl daydreaming about castles on clouds on his hands and when she gets older men just lose all interest in the French Revolution and sing about her. I think that's going to draw some attention. But not Javert's attention. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">So Javert can never quite catch Val Jean. But you know who does find Val Jean and Cosette? My girl, Eponine. Marius is all, "Hey I met this cute girl and sang to her and stuff, could you find her? I know you will because you're so in love with me. I don't really know anything about her other than her name is Cosette and I want to marry her." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">And like women have done for centuries, Eponine agrees to find out if Cosette likes Marius even though she likes him because she thinks maybe this will make him like her more. But oh girl, it doesn't (but don't worry, at least you get a pity kiss from that jerk Marius after you get freaking shot). So Eponine takes a stroll around Paris and finds Cosette and Val Jean in about 6 minutes. Javert hasn't found them in over 10 years. He's had special training in finding people and stuff. He's got the uniform, the hat, the whole nine. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">That's really all I have to say about the matter other than the fact that I don't know how Javert got his job. I'd say nepotism except he tells us that he "was born inside a jail" so I doubt his mom had much pull with the police. Maybe his father was a guard...scandalous! </span></p><p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-61405996013279038042014-03-12T17:01:00.001-04:002014-03-12T17:01:59.085-04:00I Can't Handle You, Kroger Pharmacy<p> On my way home from work the other day I heard a statistic from John Tesh saying that the average American fills 12 prescriptions each year. First of all, I'm shocked I didn't crash the car from laughing so hard. 12 per year?! I almost get 12 per month for crying out loud (and that's not counting the OTC pills). </p><p>When I was a Kroger employee I had my plethora of prescriptions filled where I worked, even though it wasn't the closest to my house. After I quit, I eventually changed everything over to the Kroger on Boston Road because it's the closest to my house. That's when the trouble started. I've been trying to avoid pointing fingers but they just haven't been cutting it. </p><p>It's never-ending problems up there. Prescriptions that should be on file from my doctor disappear from the computer and I end up playing phone tag between the pharmacy and the doctor's office. Despite me telling them time and time again, they keep calling my old doctor for refill requests and then my old doctor calls me and demands I make an appointment. Prescriptions that were once filled for a month are suddenly filled for ten days and it takes multiple phone calls to fix. </p><p>And just when I think it's all been sorted out, something else happens. Is it technically hubris when it's not pride but rather the assumption that <em>another</em> failure cannot be possible? </p><p>Everybody and their mom is sick these days and I've been feeling a sinus infection coming on so I set about getting some drugs. A friend called Kroger yesterday afternoon and left a message with my prescription order. I didn't receive a text but on my way home from the budget forum (almost 6 hours after the initial call) I thought the medicine had to be ready. Nope. It was not ready and there was no sign of it in the computer. That's odd. Maybe they hadn't gotten to it yet, I'd check tomorrow. I hadn't spoken with my friend, maybe he hadn't called it in. Surely, Kroger hadn't dropped the ball again. </p><p>Fast forward to today around 3:30. My friend did call it in; in fact it had been a solid 24 hours since the order and still no text from Kroger. So I went back in to figure it out. They had absolutely no record of it, nor did any other Kroger. So I'm guessing someone heard the message, didn't enter it in the computer properly, and then deleted it? I give them his name and number so they can verify the prescription. "Call him at this number and he'll give you the order again." And here's the part that inspired me to write this post, the person I had been dealing with took the information and told me,</p><blockquote><p>"They'll call as soon as someone gets a chance."</p></blockquote><p>Hmm. I think someone has a chance right now. A chance has just opened up. That's not the best customer service policy. If pharmacies ran like other businesses, this prescription would be on the house or they'd throw in some free pain killers for my troubles. </p><p>Sadly, it doesn't end there. After I got home I got a call from Kroger. Apparently they'd tried to page me in the store--but with their phrasing I didn't wait around because it sounded like it might be awhile. So now they want to know who I saw, when I saw them, and where. Because they called the hospital where my friend works and the nurses couldn't find my chart because I hadn't been seen there yesterday. So I explained the situation and they said I had to get him to call them. Well, why wouldn't I?</p><p>I have an issue with an inability to follow basic directions. It's very frustrating. Apparently this is what you do on your 29th birthday (haha). I suppose I'm in the market for a better pharmacy. </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-34441873857974720632014-03-03T14:12:00.001-05:002014-03-03T14:12:11.647-05:00Unsung Hero of Home Alone: Old Man Marley<p> Here I am enjoying Snow Day #12, what a perfect chance to update the old blog. I was texting my mom this morning and she mentioned that she ran out of time shoveling this morning so would I mind finishing up. Obviously I didn't mind, so I headed out to finish up what she said was a little bit of shoveling. It must've snowed more since she had shoveled because the whole driveway was covered again!</p><p>While shoveling snow it's hard to not notice how difficult it is. And as any normal child who grew up in the 90s, the first thing I think of when I see a snow shovel is the character <a href="http://homealone.wikia.com/wiki/Old_Man_Marley" target="_self" title="Old Man Marley">Old Man Marley</a> from <em>Home Alone. </em></p><p>Buzz (also, who names their kid Buzz?) tells Kevin that Old Man Marley killed his whole family back in 1958 and kept their bodies in a garbage can full of salt that turned them into mummies. And now all he does is walk up and down the streets, shoveling and salting the sidewalks. </p><p> You know what, I bet nobody on that whole street appreciates the service that man provides for the neighborhood. Shoveling is flippin' hard work, plus he's an old man! Do you think the McCallisters (or anyone else on the street) ever chipped in money for salt? Doubtful! They were too busy spending money on tickets to Paris, golden kaleidoscopes, and lawn jockeys that are menaces to all visiting cars. </p><p>So, yea, they say he murdered some folks...but that was over 30 years ago. Plus, has he ever tried to murder any of <em>them</em>? As far as anyone on that street knows, all he does is keep them from having to shovel their own walkways. I wouldn't say no to Old Man Marley helping out on my street. </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-45895794262355246742014-01-28T21:52:00.001-05:002014-01-28T21:52:29.522-05:00That Ain't Not BadWhen picking up my prescriptions today (which you'd think was my hobby based on how often I do it) I made a fun discovery: my antidepressant is significantly cheaper this year than it was last year. So I guess now it's like a double antidepressant because I'm happy thanks to the chemical balance of serotonin, dopamine, and all that other science business PLUS I'm regular happy because I'm saving money. What an exciting life I lead!<br />
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Later tonight I was making my dinner when I stumbled upon my next discovery. I'm pretty sure I'm 5 years old because my dinner was chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese. This is not the first time in recent history that I've had that meal. And what's more, I'm totally cool with that.Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-79521305713587809312014-01-22T20:43:00.003-05:002014-01-22T20:43:54.371-05:00Fire in Shangri-la<div style="text-align: center;">
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I spent all day yesterday organizing hundreds of pictures from my trip to China in a book on Picaboo. I can't wait for the book to come in the mail! I had so many fun times in Shangri-la and I hope to go back soon. There was a sadder aspect to going through all the pictures, on January 10, 2014 a <a href="http://blogs.wsj.com/chinarealtime/2014/01/11/fire-destroys-ancient-town-in-shangri-la/">fire destroyed most of Old Town</a> in Shangri-la.</div>
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Old Town is where I stayed while I was in China. We shopped in the small shops of Old Town and ate in the local restaurants. We met people who owned the restaurants and shops. And now from what we've heard, they're all burned to the ground. I'm so lucky to have visited all of these places before they were gone. </div>
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According to a recently <a href="http://www.business-standard.com/article/pti-stories/fire-in-shangri-la-s-tibetan-town-caused-by-heater-report-114011701172_1.html">released story</a>, the fire was caused by an unattended heater in a guest house. Thankfully, no one was hurt. The fire burned for 10 hours. That blows my mind. One unattended heater causing 10 hours of uncontrollable blaze and destroying a town. It breaks my heart. What will it look like when I go back?</div>
Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-13767238124056986072013-12-18T20:10:00.002-05:002013-12-18T20:10:43.480-05:00It's Gonna Be a Good DayMy first round of principal classes are done, and I managed to get straight A's. The school year is done until January and I've finally got a chance to breathe...or in my case, write.<div>
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In the words of one of my favorite TV characters, <a href="http://theitcrowd.wikia.com/wiki/Maurice_Moss">Maurice Moss</a>, "You best put seat-belts on your ears, because I'm about to take them for the ride of their lives."<div>
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I woke up on Monday morning, assuming that it would be like any other day. Little did I know that disaster would strike while I was in the shower. There I was about to get so fresh and so clean clean when I saw a white spider on the wall above the shower. Oh no. No sudden movements. And then BAM! he decided to drop onto the shower ledge. What was I to do? I didn't have a weapon and I couldn't call for Amy Jo. I grabbed the shower squeegee that I never use and I attempted to smush that spider's face and drag his body down so that I could spray him down the drain.</div>
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But where was his body? Nowhere to be found. I'm too short to see the ledge above the shower so I didn't know if he was up there on his deathbed or planning his counter-strike. As a person with a solid case of arachnophobia, I knew that it had to be the latter. I'd pissed him off and vengeance would be his. But for now, the eight-legged Houdini was gone. </div>
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It was one of the most paranoid showers I've taken in a long time. Probably since they watched the movie <i>Arachnophobia </i>at Halloween in middle school and I laid my head down fully aware that I couldn't handle seeing the movie. I made the mistake of turning around at the exact moment a spider was in the shower in the movie. </div>
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Fast forward to the next day. I inspected the shower before I got in, but I didn't see him. I got in and started showering. AND THEN THERE HE WAS ON THE CEILING! Obviously he was there to murder me. Paralyzed with fear, I watched him crawl across the ceiling and waited for him to drop down and attack me. But he didn't. he crawled outside of the shower area. Now he was more over the toilet. </div>
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He thought he was safe. Well let me tell you what he didn't count on. He didn't count on me getting out of the shower, drying off, grabbing a tissue, standing on the toilet and killing him! And that's how I knew that Tuesday would be a good day. </div>
Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-8227799163889642202013-09-05T21:46:00.001-04:002013-09-05T21:46:50.105-04:00Lock It Down<p> I've been really broadening my horizons when it comes to my Netflix queue. BTW, has anyone noticed that they're now calling the queue "my list". That's way less fancy and I don't like it. In these efforts I've stumbled on some Investigation Discovery wonders. The latest gem is <em>Nightmare Next Door</em>, it's a show about small towns where heinous crimes occur. </p>
<p>So I'm sitting here watching people getting murdered and whatnot and they're talking about small towns where people don't lock their doors. That's what gets me: not locking your doors. Why wouldn't you lock your doors? Are you stupid?</p>
<p>The whole reason the door was invented was to keep people out. As soon as we figured out how to slap a lock on a door, we did. It's not like door locks are optional; they're included with the door. Not locking a door because no one has broken in yet is like leaving the safety off of a gun because it hasn't been accidentally fired yet. It's not even hard to lock your door! Just do it. </p>
<p>I also happened to be texting my boyfriend so I asked him, what's up with small towns and not locking doors? He mentioned people basically wanting to think that they live in Mayberry. Why wouldn't the citizens of Mayberry lock their doors? Sure, maybe not in the middle of the day; but once everyone goes to bed you lock it down. </p>
<p>What scenario could arise in Mayberry where having your doors unlocked in the middle of the night would be to your advantage? Would Aunt Bea mosey on over at 2 am and just bake a pie in your kitchen? No. I'm pretty sure that didn't happen. </p>
<p>The town did have a Sheriff and a Deputy, so at some point people acknowledged the fact that there was the potential for stuff to go down in Mayberry. And let's not forget the fact that Otis was roaming the streets intoxicated every night. Nobody wants Otis crashing in their living room overnight. But hey, you left the doors unlocked so in my book Otis has every right to bust up in there and pass out on your couch. </p>
<p>Also, maybe people don't understand this but: Mayberry is a fictional town from a 1950s sitcom. What are the odds they'd show anyone getting ax murdered and serial killed on prime time television back in those days? Considering they couldn't show married couples in the same bed or say the word pregnant, I'm betting a grisly murder was definitely out. That's why I mostly don't watch those shows, because nothing super crazy or messed up happens. Plus they're in black and white which is sadder than color. </p>
<p><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">My final points are: it is 2013 and people are crazy. No place is safe, everyone needs to lock their doors. Even the people of Mayberry would lock their doors these days. </span><br>
</p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-33411375146563688352013-08-12T19:36:00.000-04:002013-08-12T19:36:13.594-04:00Tales From the Orient: Boob GrabOn the streets of Shangri-la, you see many older Tibetan women wearing traditional Tibetan clothing. Many of them carry vegetables in baskets on their backs to cook on grills in the square and sell to people like me who do not expect them to be as spicy as they are. They carry their Buddhist prayer beads with them and run them through their hands. It reminds me of Catholics praying with a rosary. It's really cool to see the blending of the old and new right next to each other. You don't see that in Beijing, and I think that's one of the reasons I like Shangri-la better.<br />
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One day, I was walking home with Carrie and Tara and a group of about 5 or 6 Tibetan women were approaching us. They had their prayer beads in their hands and they although they were speaking, they didn't appear to be speaking to one another. Could they have been praying? Well how the heck should I know? I don't speak Chinese or Tibetan.<br />
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As the group of women walked past us, the first woman grabbed my wrist and said something. So, that was weird...but whatever. The next woman grabbed my boob and said something. Luckily, none of the other women grabbed anything. I'm not really sure what they would've grabbed next but based on how quickly things escalated from wrist to boob, I don't think I want to find out what would've been next.<br />
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I asked Andy if there was any possible cultural significance to that event. I was pretty sure of the answer, but hey you never know. He said there wasn't any significance to his knowledge. Some things transcend cultural boundaries. So an old lady grabbing your boob on the streets of Shangri-la is exactly the same as an old lady grabbing your boob on the streets of America: weird.Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-38457093527251712762013-08-06T17:43:00.001-04:002013-08-06T17:43:02.566-04:00Tales From the Orient: The Silk Market<p> How do I describe The Silk Market? If you're thinking it's a quaint little district where they sell silk, you're wrong. Have you ever been to China Town in a big city like New York? It's kind of like that. Except somebody took China Town, divided it into departments (purses, electronics, etc.) and put it into a mall that's about stories tall. So everything is still just as fake as a Playmate's boobs but it's in a nice building rather than a booth on the street. And you can haggle with people.</p>
<p>We took the subway to The Silk Market and spent about 2 hours there. The Silk Market combines my love of shopping with my love of being argumentative. When I was younger (because I'm so old now?) I hated haggling. The part of me that hates talking to people still hates haggling, but my love of arguing outweighs that. I didn't like haggling in Honduras last year and this is going to sound so weird, but I think it was because I spoke the language so I could actually get into a whole conversation with the merchant about something. I couldn't do that in China; I could just punch numbers into a calculator and respond to the few English phrases the person knew. As you can imagine, The Silk Market is the perfect stage for hilarity.</p>
<p>I floated around with different members of our group. First I was with the guys because they wanted to look at electronics and so did I. Blake and I walked into a store and right away the clerk started trying to sell something to Blake. Blake says, "What is it, a flashlight?" And then you hear this "TZZZZT!" noise and Blake says, "Oh, a taser!" And you probably had to be there but I started laughing because his tone was one of "yes of course, why wouldn't it be a flashlight/taser?" So this guy keeps trying to convince Blake that he needs a taser, "you know, when you drink too much you might need." And I'm in the background saying, "That's right Blake, how many times on this trip have you talked about wishing you had a flashlight/taser?" So that was awesome.</p>
<p>They also have these laser pointers that are super strong and illegal in the US. I won't lie, they're cool and I definitely wanted one but it probably would've gotten taken out of my suitcase. I was in another store with Andy and Dick and this store had lasers, pens, and others things like that. I was standing by Dick and he was looking at something and I wasn't sure what it was. Well, he finally got it open and a huge flame comes out of it! I yelled, "Oh shit!" Which, BTW, is always appropriate on a mission trip. But I did think my arm was going to catch on fire. Apparently this store had a large collection of lighters although this thing seemed more like a flame thrower to me. I mean, the flame was huge! And you didn't have to do anything to it, just open the lid and boom! Fire!</p>
<p>I roamed into a watch store next because it occurred to me that Jerry's watch had broken awhile back and what better place to get him a "nice" new watch than The Silk Market. As soon as I walked in I realized that I was way over my head. First of all, I know nothing about watches. Secondly, I have absolutely no idea what kind of watch he would want. However I was already in the store so it looked like this was happening. I ended up picking out a simple "Armani" watch and the girl told me that the regular price was 600¥. But of course she knew that was much too high for me, what with us being close personal friends and all. So she was going to charge me 300¥. Unfortunately I was thinking more like 100¥. She started lowering the price on account of I was her "first customer of the day". I ended up paying 150¥ ($26), which I think was pretty good. And I told Jerry, if that's not the best $26 timepiece he's ever owned then by God I will take that thing back to the store and give that girl a talking to! I did see one watch break as they were taking the plastic off of it (don't worry, they gave that person another watch). Luckily that didn't happen to my watch, because my watch is the real thing. </p>
<p>Then there was an incident at a bracelet store where some ladies were trying to screw Andy over on some bracelets and act like they didn't have change and give him some crap bracelets instead of a second nice bracelet. So I started backing him up on that and getting arbitrarily argumentative and aggressive with them until they caved. By that point I was clearly drunk on power and we ran into Tara and Carrie. They were looking at tea pots and mentioned how they'd tried to get some fans for 10¥ but the shop people refused. And I said, "Oh I'll get you those fans." So I went to look at spoons while they finished looking at tea pots and the lady wanted me to pay 350¥ for a spoon. I said, "Umm, I was thinking more like 5¥ or 10¥." She told me that my price was "impossible" so I peaced out on her. I did get one later for 10¥, so it must not have been that impossible.</p>
<p>We went up to the fan place and wouldn't you know it, got the fans for 10¥. I was looking around at some other stuff when I heard this lady start getting really loud. It was an American lady. She's hollering, "Give me back my money!" Naturally I started to stare at her, because that's what you do in these situations. Well, I didn't stare right at her because she kind of looked like maybe she could fight me and her voice sounded a little crazy so I tried to be sly about it. </p>
<p>She's over in one of the technology stores (next door to the flashlight/taser store) and she wants them to give her her money back. Apparently the day before she had bought a phone at that store and when she plugged it in at the hotel she heard it short out in the outlet and then she smelled it burning or whatever. So this was completely unacceptable because she has 3 kids at home and now they can't even play games on this phone and you do not want to see her angry.</p>
<p>Somehow, Carrie and Tara hadn't heard this lady and they were trying to leave so I had to call them back over to watch the drama unfold. Plus that way I had people to talk to. Before that it was just me and one of the Chinese salesladies. We were both watching the crazy lady and I kept looking at her like, "Hey that lady is crazy, right?" but she didn't reciprocate my glances because maybe she thinks I'm crazy, too. Eventually we had to leave and we didn't get to see a resolution, but my guess is she did not get her money back. I was really hoping to see her throw some boxes or something. </p>
<p>It didn't occur to me until that moment that some people think that because The Silk Market is set up like a mall that means that it's legit. If you're haggling over an iPhone with someone whose entire business operates out of a fanny pack and no receipts whatsoever, what makes you think they have a return policy? You think Apple and Rolex and all those other companies wouldn't be all over China in a heartbeat if those were actually the real products? Some people are pretty foolish.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">"Armani" watch: 150¥. China spoon: 10¥. 3 China girl pens: 15¥. Joy that comes from arguing over prices: Priceless. The Silk Market.</p>
<p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2018770148286942401.post-68990554168050658282013-08-06T17:40:00.003-04:002013-08-06T17:40:47.045-04:00Tales From the Orient: Cashew Thief/Great Wall Climber<p> At the end of our trip, we spent three days in Beijing so that we could do things like go to The Great Wall. Wouldn't it suck to go all the way to China and not see The Great Wall? We stayed in a hotel called The Park Plaza. It's in downtown Beijing and it's very nice. Right across from the hotel is a Starbucks. We had to wake up fairly early to go to the Great Wall because it takes about 90 minutes to drive there not to mention we wanted to try to beat the crowds and the heat. Before it was time to load up in the vans, several of us went over to Starbucks to get some drinks for the road. </p>
<p>I ordered a java chip frappuccino something or other and while I was waiting in line to pay I noticed a bag of cashews at the register. I decided I'd get those too since I'd only had some fruit for breakfast. so I grabbed the bag. I got up to the register and told the barista I'd ordered the grande frap and then I held up the bag of cashews and said, "And these, too." She looked at the bag and nodded. So I paid the bill (my Starbucks gold card does not work in China, just in case you were curious) and went over to wait with my friends.</p>
<p>I was trying to open the tiny bag of cashews, which had apparently been child-proofed for my safety when I saw the baristas looking at me, pointing and whispering. I assumed they were making fun of me for not being able to open the bag. "Oh crap, there's probably some ancient Chinese secret to opening the freaking cashew bag and I'm going to spill them all over the place or something," I thought. I turned away from them so they wouldn't see me struggling. That's when one of them came up to me and told me that I had not paid for the cashews.</p>
<p>"Oh, I showed them to her and said that I wanted them. I guess she didn't hear me." It was no big deal, I went and paid for them (and was eventually able to open and eat them). It was certainly a curious event. I <em>know</em> that she saw me hold up the cashews because we made eye contact. What did she think I was doing?</p>
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<li>"Hey, look at this bag. I can pick it up. Now I shall set it back down."</li>
<li>"These are called cashews, barista. That's your English word of the day. You're welcome. Love, American girl.</li>
<li>"Hmm, what an interesting counter display you have here. I like it. I also like that it is about 95 degrees in your store. Well done, Beijing Starbucks."</li>
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<p>And that's how the entire staff of a Beijing Starbucks thought I was some sort of criminal mastermind who specialized in cashew theft. Let's face it, it would be the perfect crime. Except for the whole struggling to open the stolen merchandise and attempting to eat it in the store in front of the victims.</p>
<p>On to the Wall. I tell you what, they weren't joking when they named that thing The <em>Great</em> Wall. It is pretty great. It's breathtakingly beautiful. I can't believe that it was built hundreds of years ago without any sort of technology and it's still standing today. It's a real testament to human ingenuity and strength. I took well over 100 pictures; and I put them all on Facebook rather than decide which to put up and which to leave out. In my opinion they're all amazing so I just stuck all of them up there!</p>
<p>You take a chair lift to get up to The Wall and then you can walk wherever you want. Actually hike would be a more appropriate word. I'm pretty sure I climbed at least a million miles. And it was (no joke) 100 degrees outside. I don't even know how much water I drank! I drank all of the water I bought and then I bought some more when I was up there. It wasn't marked up as much as it would be in America, which was nice. I was so thirsty I would've paid whatever they wanted though. "What's that? You'll give me a bottle of water if I let you punch me in the face? Bring it on." Carrie and I walked back to the meeting place together and we were both exhausted! We took the walk so slow because our legs were shaking and we were dizzy; it was unreal. I don't think I've ever done anything that physically taxing.</p>
<p>To get down from The Great Wall you can either take the chair lift or you can take the toboggan. We opted for the toboggan. You sit on this little scooter/sled type thing and you're on a metal slide that makes me think of a bobsled track. You have a little handle to control your scooter. Although it sounds like a deathtrap it's actually not scary at all and it's a lot of fun! The one crappy part was that we had a few people in front of us who were scared and/or taking pictures and video so they were going slow which made us run into them several times. If people in front of you are going slow then it keeps you from going really fast. Those jerks! We were yelling at them, too!</p>
<p>We were so hungry when we got off The Wall. Luckily, the ancient Chinese had enough sense to put a Subway and Baskin Robbins there at the bottom so we were able to get some food. </p>
<p>Later that evening (after we relaxed and regained feeling in our legs), Andy called my room and said that no one could decide what they wanted for dinner. I said that I have a need to eat at McDonald's in every country that I visit. So, we went to McDonald's in the mall! Let that be a lesson to all of you: if you don't speak up, you'll end up doing whatever someone else wants to do and you'll have no one to blame but yourself. In education we call that a "teachable moment". And then we stumbled upon a Coldstone Creamery so we ate there, too. I've never been much of a Coldstone fan, but it was OK. So yes, for those of you keeping track I had ice cream twice that day; but remember, I walked a million miles so I earned it. </p>
<p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Back in Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14194910531816296158noreply@blogger.com0