Thursday, November 29, 2012

It's Whineter. I Mean, Winter.

I had one of those clothing dilemmas this morning. If you are female, you know what I'm talking about. It's when your bedroom is organized and everything is picked up and then you can't decide what to wear so your room looks like you were robbed during your shower.

I was set on wearing my new boots. So I put on the sweater dress that's warm. But then the tights I wanted to wear didn't match so I tore through all of them but didn't find the color I wanted. So I had to choose something else to go with the tights I do have. Which ends up being less warm than the sweater dress. Which led to this conversation in the bathroom at work:

Co-Worker: How are you?
Me: I'm good! Just cold.
CW: Well, you're wearing a dress.
Me: But I'm also wearing tights and boots and a scarf.
CW: But you're hardly covered from here to here.
Me: I don't care! I am inside!! It should be warm inside buildings! I shouldn't be subjected to freezing temperatures while I'm working! Besides, winter doesn't mean that you have to dress frumpy!! It doesn't mean that you have to look homeless in layers and layers of things that don't match!!! I had to wear these boots and this was all I could find after destroying both closets in my room!!!!

Okay. I didn't really scream that. I didn't even whisper it. I just sort of shrugged my shoulders shamefully and walked out. I could have said it though. It's all perfectly reasonable.

Winter is not my friend.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Baby Countdown

I told you last week about my office's adopted family. Since posting that, I have met our family and stopped by with a few items for them last night. I got to visit with Princess and, let me tell you, she is adorable! She has this wild, curly hair and wears glasses. She's like this cute little miniature book-nerd girl. I wanted to take her to the library immediately and show her off. Mom looked like she was going to pop any day last week. Yesterday she had obviously dropped and informed me that she has already started dilating. So our Christmas baby is most likely going to make an early appearance.

Below is a list of needed baby supplies. If you have anything on the list or anything I haven't thought of that you'd like to donate, please let me know. (Baby will be a boy.) Please note that I do have a stroller, bouncy seat, and car seat already promised.

crib mattress
crib sheets
burp cloths
receiving blankets
baby thermometer
diaper pail
night lights
lotions, powders, rash cream
play yard
changing table
baby monitor
diaper bag
baby wipes

I can't wait to meet this new baby and I will keep you all updated on how it goes with him!

Monday, November 26, 2012

Namaste, Motherfuckers

So something has been bothering me for a while. At first I just thought it was me. Me and the wife. Because we're a little louder than other people but we have a hell of a lot more fun. So we get some looks. Occasionally a comment is made. Case in point: An older "gentleman" remarked, "Well, someone's happy!" after hearing me laugh at Thanksgiving dinner in a restaurant. Well sir, I didn't realize happiness wasn't allowed on holidays. I'll change to the more appropriate wake behavior accordingly.

But then I talked to a friend today who has had similar experiences. She shared one with me that happened to her over the weekend at the mountain. So I thought maybe it's just people with money. People who think they are better than everyone else.

I've even tried to explain it away by telling myself it's PMS and I'm taking things personally. The woman who blatantly glared at me this morning while we were both dropping our kids off at school? Maybe she had PMS too. Or hadn't had her coffee.

But today, on the way home, I almost hit (with my car!) a man who was crossing the street, in the dark, wearing all dark clothes. Crossing at a random point in the street, not at a crosswalk. He was nearly impossible to see. And when I slammed on my breaks so that I wouldn't hit him? He flipped me off and sneered at me. Seriously. He fucking flipped me off.

So there it is. People are just assholes. Everywhere I go. I am surrounded by assholes. You have probably encountered them out shopping. Waiting at the gas station. At your kid's school play. People are mean. Mean, mean, mean. And there is no excuse for it. 

Hey, we're all stressed out. We all feel frustrated at times. But that poor woman waiting tables might have just lost her dog and doesn't need to be yelled at because your coffee wasn't decaf. Your neighbor might have some chronic illness that prevents him from shoveling the snow in his driveway. Who knows what goes on in anyone's life on any given day? Have some fucking compassion. Life is short but the days are long and we could all use a little kindness.

Stop being assholes. Just quit it now.

Take up my new motto if you like. Feel free to share it with your friends and family. Use it as a greeting when you see the mailman or you're getting your favorite burrito.

Namaste, motherfucker.

Just to prove my point, an anonymous coward just tried to comment on this post, asking me politely to "Move back home you fucking Californicator." I guess he/she didn't realize I moderate my comments for this sole purpose.

Namaste, motherfucker. 

Sunday, November 25, 2012

There Are Still Good Ones Out There

I mentioned yesterday how much I abhor my neighbors and the ceaseless barking of their dogs. In anger and desperation I fired off an email to the captain of the police department, noting their mission statement and values on their website. I detailed my frustration, my numerous calls to the police department, and their seemingly complete lack of response. I even alluded to the fact that if I were to take matters into my own hands, it would not end happily for me or my family and how is that justice?

Well, I got an out-of-office response. Which was fine. It is a holiday weekend, after all. So I turned up my music and imagined all the ways in which I would like for these people to be tortured.

And then I got a real response, this one from a Lieutenant Brian Kindel. It was a long and thoughtful response, but I still sort of rolled my eyes at the usual advice. He even suggested that I file a citation with the city attorney but why should I do their job for them? He had looked up the records of my calls but only one was found under my address and he asked for the physical address of the neighbors from hell, which I gladly gave him. He then found numerous reports from me, as well as from my neighbor down the street and let me know that he would head over and "sit on the house for a while."

In all the times that I have only wanted those dogs to shut the hell up, I never imagined I would want them to keep barking. Only so that he could hear what I have been enduring for months. The beasts must have sensed my frustration as they happily complied.

About half an hour later I heard a knock at my door and it was, as I had hoped, Lieutenant Kindel. He told me that, while his neighbors' dogs often bark, it is nothing like what I have been subjected to. He said it was unacceptable and that he would have lost patience with it long ago. I cannot tell you the relief I felt from that validation. I wanted to kiss that man's bald head and supply him with doughnuts for life!

He started the citation himself, a $500 fine. Unfortunately, the court will most likely be lenient and dismiss the fine if they take measures to keep their dogs quiet before their court date. I wish it weren't that easy for them, I want them to suffer and feel a real hardship. But, really, the result I want is quiet so if that is what this accomplishes, I should be content with that.

One could argue that I only got the results I did because of contacting the captain directly. That's probably true and that's okay. However, the officer that finally addressed my concern did so with the utmost professionalism and consideration on my part and for that I am appreciative.

Thank you, Lieutenant Kindel.

Saturday, November 24, 2012

More Than You Know

Dear Neighbors,

I hate you more than you will ever know. Is it weird knowing that you live next door to someone who wishes bad karma on you on an almost daily basis? And what could you have done to bring about such hatred? Oh, so much. So, so much.

It started with the POS you had sitting in your driveway for months and months. I wish this neighborhood had CC&R's just for you. A vehicle with flat tires is obviously going nowhere and just becomes an eyesore after a while. The weird curtains you have hanging in your garage window just creep me out. I don't even want to imagine what happens in there.

I'm not normally fond of children I don't know, but yours are just Children of the Corn. Seriously. What are they, vampires? They never grow!! You've lived next to me for three years now and I swear they should be a foot taller by now. All of my friends' kids grow like weeds. I hardly recognize them after not seeing them for six months, but your kids look the same all the time.

While we're talking about your Satan-spawns, will they ever stop throwing their shitty toys in my yard? I tried being nice the first year. I threw them back over the fence for them. The first 20 times. After that I just started throwing them away. That's when one of your little monsters yelled out the upstairs window at me, "Hey girl!!! That's mine. Don't throw it away!" It's awesome that your little demons spy on me.

By the way, why have you not told them not to talk to strangers? They seem to like harassing my friends when they come over. "Who are you? What's your name? What are you doing here?" Don't you know this is how children get kidnapped and why they disappear forever? They are such easy targets! They've even climbed into our vehicles more than once. I'm pretty sure it was one of your little imps that left my car door open when it was in my garage. Then again, they are Children of the Corn so maybe they don't have anything to fear.

However, I could probably live with all of this if it weren't for the fact that your fucking dogs bark constantly. As in all the fucking time. Fucking incessantly. Not just once. Over and over and over and over. I'm surprised they even have voices left. I love dogs. I love dogs more than people. But I have the most evil thoughts about yours. I want to poison them. I want to open your fence and chase them out into the street. I want to kidnap them to cut their vocal cords. If you knew how much I really, really love dogs, you would know that these are disturbing thoughts. You would also know how indicative it is that your dogs are abnormally annoying. I hate them. I hate their barking. I can't even find any compassion for them.

Because I know their behavior isn't really their fault. It's yours. You leave them outside where it's cold. You leave them alone. I've never seen you walk them once since you got them. You occasionally yell at them to be quiet when you are home and you are quiet enough to hear them bark. You don't play with them. They are insecure and unsocialized and afraid of the wind and trees and anything else. They have severe separation anxiety. They hate their lives.

For this I hate you most of all. I feel sorry for them and I hate you for the life you have given them. And then they bark and I hate them. I hate you for making me hate a dog. I hate you for making me hate you so much. I hate you for making me feel this level of hate towards anyone.

You don't deserve dogs.

Please move away. Far, far away. Tomorrow morning wouldn't be soon enough. 

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Gratitude Is More Than A Feeling

Each year the company I work for "adopts" a family in need. The family gives us their wish list and we place gift tags on a tree for employees to purchase and then deliver them all with the tree and decorations. I was involved directly with coordinating the choosing of the family and the gift delivery two years ago, which I enjoyed so much more than simply supplying a gift. Even though I knew my gifts went to a good cause, it added that extra personal dimension seeing the kids' faces and getting their personal thank yous and hugs.

This year's family just about breaks my heart. We have a single mom with a 7-year-old daughter who is pregnant. They just moved out of a shelter into an apartment last week and their belongings consist quite literally of a broken-down chair, an old TV, two twin beds, and a set of dishes. The baby boy is due on Christmas and doesn't yet have a crib.

While I think that what we provide as an office to our families is very generous and fills a need for most families, I think our adoptees this year are special and need more than we as an office can provide. I know how hard it is to be a single mom and I only have one kid and many resources. I can't imagine starting over from a shelter and being eight months pregnant.

This is where you come in. I'm asking that some or all of you help them out. Do you have a piece of furniture that doesn't fit in your new house? Clothes that your children have outgrown? Toys they no longer play with? Are you doing some shopping this weekend at the big sales? Maybe you have extra silverware or kitchen appliances that you don't use because you hardly ever cook. (Yeah, that's not the case in my house!)

I spoke to Mom this morning to find out a little more about her and her children. She said her daughter is a girly girl (I'm going to call her Princess) and likes pink, pink, and pink. Plus dolls and Spongebob Squarepants. Mom only has maternity clothes right now and won't have anything after the baby is born. The only thing she asked for besides clothes was a coffee pot. I totally get that! Baby Boy doesn't have anything, the crib offer she had fell through.

So far I have been offered an infant car seat and a coffee pot. Mr. A. is helping me refinish an armoire dresser donated by the wife for Princess. We got the cutest stuff to decoupage it with new door pulls. In pink, of course.

My wish is to fill their  home with everything comfortable - soft bedding and blankets, thick socks and cozy sweaters, pillows and plush towels. What makes you feel at home?

Of course anything will help and I would be more than happy to provide additional suggestions. Please contact me if you would like to contribute anything. In addition to what is donated, we might need some help transporting bigger items. I'd also be happy to purchase for you if you hate shopping.

My life is full of love and blessings. I'd like to give this family a little bit of that.


I got a request to supply a list of things our family might need or want. When I asked Mom, she just said everything, which I understand. I think the emptiness is overwhelming right now. Luckily, making a list is one of my favorite things, so here we go:

Soft, cozy blankets
Soft, cozy robes
Soft, cozy socks (are you sensing a theme here?)
Cozy sweats
Rugs (their entire apartment is "wood"-floored)
Coffee pot
Warm hats
Measuring spoons and cups
Tupperware - storage containers
Mixing bowls
Coffee mugs
Cookie sheets
Bath mats
Bath towels
Shoes - size 2 for Princess, size 8 1/2 for Mom
Clothes - size 8-10 in girls' and 11-13 in womens' (or 10-12)
Crib mattress
Baby sheets
Baby blankets
Burp clothes
Newborn and up baby boy clothes
Baby lotions, supplies
Diapers, wipes
Barbie dolls
Girls' makeup playsets
Spongebob Squarepants stuff
Toy box
Gift certificates for groceries, WalMart, Target, etc.

Gosh, the list goes on and on. Maybe think about what you use most every day and they probably need that! Princess loves pink, Mom likes black and bright colors but she's not the girly girl that Princess is. Incidentally, the armoire I am redoing for Princess will be green and pink if you're looking to match anything with that.

There was a group trying to supply the big furniture items but that seems to have fallen through. I'll keep you updated on how that goes.

My heart is already filling up with the offers I have received so far. My Christmas wish is to fill this family's home with, not just stuff in every room, but the kindness, caring and warm thoughts behind all of the stuff.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

I Might Have a Problem

Actually, I have many problems. And technically, a bitch is one. Or many bitches. I might be turning into a crazy dog lady. Let's examine the evidence.

Exhibit A - Yesterday I went to see the new Bond movie. The 45 minutes of previews included one for a movie with Ryan Gosling, at which a friend and I made some kind of adolescent, inappropriate comment because, face it, he's hot. This same movie also features a bulldog. At which I squealed and my other friend pointed out that I squealed more over the dog than I did over Ryan Hot-Gosling.

Exhibit B - My dogs already have their costumes for  next year's Halloween. They are from the Bret Michaels collection. Yeah, I might have bought them, but I'm not the one with the clothing line for dogs.

Exhibit C - A co-worker got a new puppy over the weekend and has been bringing this perfect little package of cuteness into the office. Nobody was surprised that I was both the first to go meet this sweet little baby and the first to pick him up and let him lick my face, my neck, and my eye. I was also the first to Facebook him.

Exhibit D - I will sleep on sheets covered in dog hair and dog drool but I keep track of the women in the office who don't wash their hands after using the restroom.

Exhibit E - Actually, I think we should stop here.

Let the record show that I have not yet given up on interactions with people. Yet. I am, however, considering limiting my already-limited circle of friends to those who own dogs. It's just easier to stick to my own kind.

Thursday, November 08, 2012

I Didn't Need to Know That

D is dating a boy. Officially. Which in teenager-speak means she can call him her boyfriend but they haven't kissed yet. (And I thought I rushed my last relationship!) He's a ginger and I was briefly possessed by my mother when I said, "Don't have his babies."

Last night she told me that she talked to him about her boundaries. I thought, "Oh, how mature. What a way to communicate." I'm thinking of things like how she wants time with her friends, that she wants him to respect her goals, things like that. He also shared his with her. So when I asked what her boundaries are, she snapped back, "None of your business!" Oh. Gulp.

See, I don't need to know that my little baby girl is having this kind of conversation. With a boy. I do not need those images in my head. Ever.

I swear she just wants to kill me. Only she's making it slow and excruciatingly painful.

Wednesday, November 07, 2012

Just A Typical Day

I felt pretty cute walking into work this morning in my new sweater and cozy, fleece-lined leggings. I tried not to let the fact that my teenage daughter is wearing practically the same outfit today deter me from my feeling of Cuteness.

And then I sat down at my desk.

I felt a cold spot and thought I had already spilled something on my chair. (Because yes, spilling things is more of a daily occurrence than I would like for it to be.) So I stood up and felt my bum and discovered a gaping hole. Yes, friends, my cozy leggings betrayed me by ripping and exposing my bare butt.

Off I trotted to the restroom to assess the damage. Yeah, it was pretty bad. No way that I could play that one off all day and I didn't trust that stupid hole would stay that size.

Away I went to change my pants. At least the dogs were happy to see me.

At least there was a doughnut waiting for me when I came back.

Ouch. Ouch, I Said.

So I don't know what the new healthcare changes are doing for me. I think nothing because my insurance is going up next year and my deductible is going down. Whatever. Well, now the company I work for has instituted this wellness awareness thing. Which is great. Better health should translate into lower insurance premiums. Should. Not does. Anyhoo. What that really means is that we had to do a wellness assessment yesterday. I say we had to because not doing results in a $600 penalty on our insurance premiums.

I was told it was quick and painless. I was kind of lied to.

The first part consisted of a blood test and saliva test. What is a saliva test like? It's gross. There's this little white stick you put in your mouth and when it collects enough saliva it turns blue. But the end that goes in your mouth? Oh, that looks like the end of a pregnancy test stick. Yeah. That went in my mouth. And it made my mouth dry. I had to sit in another chair and wait for that damn thing to turn blue. Luckily, that didn't mean I was pregnant.

The blood test should have been a simple prick to my finger. Only the pricker thingy was kind of a dud and didn't make me bleed enough. So the lady sat there ans squeezed and squeezed and squeezed my poor little finger. And then she told me my blood was already clotting and told me I heal too quickly. Uh, okay. She asked if she could prick the same spot again. I told her to knock herself out. I bled better that time.

Next was the BMI calculation. The nurse asked me to take off my 4-inch heels since they would change my height. Which was the point, it would make my BMI look so much better. She added half an inch instead and took off two pounds from my weight.

When she took my blood pressure she said my heart was barely working. Between the low blood pressure and the fact that I'm not much of a bleeder, I'm starting to wonder if I'm part vampire. I didn't bring that up though because I didn't want to be flagged for a psych consult.

Oh well. I guess there are worse ways to spend my time at work.
The Martini Chronicles. Design by Exotic Mommie. Illustraion By DaPino