33tekfan’s Weblog

Here’s what I have for you today.

Miley Cyrus poses for Vanity Fair.

4056 US deaths in Iraq.

Which one have you heard more about in the last 24 hours?

Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime.  ~Ernest Hemingway

Dear Dunkin’ Donuts,

One hour and 5 minutes for 3 bagel sandwiches is highly unreasonable.  I understand you run out of things sometimes - although on a Sunday morning?  Really?  You couldn’t predict you’d be busy on a Sunday morning at 10:00AM?  Ok…I’ll drive to the OTHER Dunkin’ Donuts in town.  Except, well even though they weren’t out of anything, they weren’t especially speedy.  Customer Service doesn’t seem to be a priority for you so as much as I love your product, I think you’ll find me at Tim Horton’s from now on.

Sincerely,

A disgruntled customer

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Dear Target,

I didn’t mean to shop lift.  Truly, I didn’t.  The fact that I’ve spent about $150 at your store in the last several days should indicate that I didn’t mean to walk out without paying for the $1.49 shoelaces.

I must have been holding them in the same hand as my keys, and when I needed both hands to help my son pick out a new baseball glove I put my keys - and the laces - in my pocket.  When we got home, I was mortified to find them when I reached into my pocket.

The thing is?  I live 40 minutes away from you.  At $3.57 a gallon, driving back to pay for the laces seems somewhat absurd.  But I believe in karma, so what I’m going to do is make an extra charitable donation this month.  Deal?  Good.  Thanks for understanding.

Sincerely,

A most apologetic customer (who loves Target WAY more than Wal-hell*)

*Stolen Borrowed from Morgan.

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Dear Postman,

You rock.  Thank you for putting together the Captain’s pitch back, and tightly strapping his new glove.  I spent 5 years doing all of that by myself (not always with great results!) and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it when you help my kids with things like that.  I know they appreciate it, too.

I love you more,

Me

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Dear Captain and Diva,

I missed you!  I am glad you had a nice time with your dad, but I am also glad you are home! 

Love you lots,

Mom

To send a letter is a good way to go somewhere without moving anything but your heart.  ~Phyllis Theroux

Recently I had someone ask me if the woman she had seen me with was my “real mother”. The Postman beat me to the answer with “No, it’s JUST her mother.”

I cannot tell you how much that question pisses.me.off.

First off, my mother and I are NOT bff’s. Never were. Never will be. A lot happened in my childhood and adolescence that I wish never had. Without divulging too much information, I’ll just say that it probably wasn’t intentional and she couldn’t help some of it. It’s still painful even with that knowledge.

HOWEVER:

It was her who stood at the end of the driveway on my first day of school, and many thereafter, waving to me as I was whisked away on the bus. It was her who braided my hair every.single.day. until second grade when I got it cut short like Dorothy Hamill.

It was her who drove me to countless softball practices and games and became a Girl Scout Troop Leader.

It was her who held my hair back the first time I got drunk and sick when I got the flu.

She helped me buy a car when I was 16. She helped pay for college. She adores her grandchildren.

So while she is not my biological mother, she is my REAL mother. So stop asking such stupid questions, mmkay?

It’s not easy being a mother. If it were easy, fathers would do it. ~From the television show The Golden Girls

It has been unseasonably warm here the past couple of days. In fact, my daughter’s school lifted the “no shorts until after April vacation” ban. They are being allowed to wear shorts tomorrow. The Diva announced this to me immediately upon getting into the car this afternoon and quickly followed up with “I need to shave my legs. They are disgusting.”

The Diva is 12. I have discouraged her from shaving for as long as I could. I mean, let’s face it ladies. We all know what a pain it really is and the newness wears off quickly. I knew I wasn’t going to discourage her for one more summer though.

This evening it was time for the big lesson. I told The Postman we were stealing borrowing his shaving cream. I rarely use it (and steal borrow his when I need it) so I don’t have any.

Him: Why don’t you just show her how to use the electric razor?

Me: Because it doesn’t work as well. It doesn’t leave the skin as smooth.

Him: What does it matter? NO ONE is going to be touching her legs.

Me: How very “stepfather with a shotgun” of you.

Sometimes the smallest, silliest things remind me why I love that man so much.

The troubles of adolescence eventually all go away - it’s just like a really long, bad cold. ~Dawn Ruelas

* 5 points to whoever knows who said that!

Have you read about this yet? Have you seen all the pictures?

Admittedly, I have only seen one picture and the headline that accompanied it. It’s a picture of Rosie O’Donnell with her oldest son. She has a stern look on her face and she has a hold on her son - I believe she is holding on to his t-shirt. He is back to, so his face is not visible. The headline reads “Abusive Rosie bullies son, 12.”

Man oh man.

I am guessing these “journalists” are not parents. Because let me just tell you, as the mother of a 12 year old girl, if they are using these pictures as evidence of abuse, I know about 500 parents who “abuse” their children. Fortunately for them, they do not have paparazzi there to capture every.single.moment. of their lives.

My daughter makes me so angry sometimes that I need to leave the room or ask her to leave the room. She can be rude, mean, selfish, and nasty. She is 12. She has hormones raging through her body, and she has no idea that the world doesn’t revolve around her. I remind her, that’s one of my jobs as a parent. Does that make me a bully? No. I think it makes me a great mom. My children are learning respect, self control, and common courtesy. Sometimes I need to be stern to get their attention.

My daughter - in fits of self-absorption - has turned to walk away as I am in the middle of speaking to her. You better believe she does not get away with that. Have I ever grabbed her t-shirt as Rosie appears to be doing in that picture? I don’t know for sure, but I bet I have. I may have even grabbed her arm to stop her from walking away.

For a magazine to publish those pictures with that headline accompanying it is shameful, irresponsible, and more damaging to that boy than anything his parents could do. His friends are going to see and read that. His teachers, community members, and well…the entire free world are also going to see it. One of my children’s fears is that, if necessary, I will reprimand them in front of their friends, my friends, or our family. It is mortifying to them. Now that poor boy has his picture splashed on the front of a magazine so the entire world can see him being reprimanded by his mother.

Bullying? No. Not by his mother anyway - but by a big corporation that will sacrifice the well being of a child in exchange for a few bucks.

I never had a policy; I have just tried to do my very best each and every day. ~Abraham Lincoln

The Red Sox Ring ceremony is on right now.

I’m crying like a baby.

‘Nuff said.

We know we’re idiots, we know we’re cowboys, but we also know we’re world champions.

~Upon sweeping the Cardinals in the 2004 World Series
10/27/04
Johnny David Damon
Boston Red Sox
CF

Just yesterday I read about this phenomenon, here. Karly is funny - you’ll be glad you clicked on that link.

This evening, right after supper, I took the towels out of the dryer. I folded them and placed them on the washer to put away later because both bathrooms were occupied at the time. Soon after, I saw the Postman walk by with a pile of clothes.

Just a few minutes ago, I went to the laundry room to look for something else and saw my neat pile of folded towels a heap of what used to be perfectly folded, crisp clean towels. In his eagerness to put his clothes in the washer (ALL of them. Not sorted.), he just pushed aside the pile of towels I folded.

Me: Did you seriously just push the towels aside rather than carry them to the bathroom?

Him: They weren’t ours, were they?

Me: Seriously?

And for any of you that dare say I should be happy he put his clothes in the washer, I will also beat you with the clothes basket.

My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint. ~Erma Bombeck

My grandmother turns 98 years old today.

98 freakin‘ years old.

She was alive for WWI. How crazy is that?

One of my grandmother’s favorite stories was about where she was when she found out President Kennedy had been shot. She was on an escalator (although I am not sure where), and was so stunned that she forgot to step off and got her heel caught.

My grandparents retired fairly young, and moved from New Jersey to Virginia. They had an active retirement filled with much traveling, golf (my grandfather) and tennis (my grandmother). I spent two weeks with them every summer and remember how grown up I felt being allowed to hang out at the pool at the country club while they played their respective sports. Even better was getting dressed up to go to dinner at “the club”.

We celebrated her 85th birthday at the country club, but by then she had all but given up tennis. They were still members, but mostly it was just a place for them to be social and visit with friends rather than be physically active.

I would like to say that my grandmother has her wits about her, but the truth is, she does not. She would not know me if I walked in today - in fact, she might ask one of her nurses who the new girl is. She is comfortable and cared for. She gets her hair done and her nails done. Hopefully, in some part of her brain, she has memories of her travels, her cocktail parties, and her friends and family.

Happy birthday, Gram!

Soon I will be an old, white-haired lady, into whose lap someone places a baby, saying, “Smile, Grandma!” - I, who myself so recently was photographed on my grandmother’s lap. ~Liv Ullmann

The other night we had a mishap with the space heater.

Because the Postman loves me so much, he bought me a space heater to put by my desk because I am always bitching about being cold.

When I turned it off the other night, I apparently didn’t turn it off completely. (I think it malfunctioned and now I’m scared of it.) After a few minutes the smoke alarm near my desk started going off. We quickly figured out the problem and as the Postman went to work on turning the heater completely off, I yanked the smoke alarm off the wall since the kids were already in bed and there was no imminent danger. Being the diligent human/parent that I am, I put the alarm on the bureau in our bedroom. Just until the next morning.

Except that the next morning? I was too lazy to pull out the step stool and climb up there to put the smoke alarm back on the wall.

So when I heard it beeping, I obligingly got the step stool pulled the battery out of it.

When it continued beeping (apparently some sort of signal that it is not currently hard wired since I’m holding it in my hand), I shoved it under a pile of clothes in the Postman’s closet.

At least the ones in the kitchen and near the kid’s bedrooms are on the wall and working. I think. I would have to get the step stool to check.

What is right is often forgotten by what is convenient. ~Bodie Thoene, Warsaw Requiem