Pocket Change...

I've written about change on more than one occasion on my blog. Shoot, probably more than ten occasions. I'm okay with change. "It suits me just fine - in fact, it's my idea of heaven!" (Name the movie that line is from. Bonus points if you can name the actor or actress being quoted!) I took steps to make another change in my life today. I turned in my two week notice with my employers to mixed reviews. I'm optimistic about my decision and I feel, deep down (in the gut), that I'm making the right decision for me, my family and my future. Why? Because it's an opportunity to learn something new. I might fall flat on my face...but at least I'll have learned soemthing in the process. And who knows about the interesting folk I might meet on the way, huh? How can one not be excited!? So, in two weeks, I'll be headed down a different road, in a different city with a different role to play and I can't wait! I've been with my current employer for eight years (minus a brief stint as a bank teller that could not have ended sooner) and I've learned so much in that time. I have grown up a lot in those eight years there and I feel lucky to have been given the opportunities I have. My only rant here is....why are folks so gossipy? I mean, if you've already heard from somewhere else that I've taken another job, don't pretend you haven't. Especially if you're not a good liar. I mean, c'mon! What's it to ya? Anyway, here's to change and all it inspires us to be!

Extreme "Forclosure" Makeover

What a terrible situation. I don't know the details of it all, but it's a dang shame that so much time and effort is given by so many to have it all go to crap due to some mishandling of finances or "poor business decisions".

Extreme Makover: Home Edition is one of my favorite shows! It will reduce me to tears instantly and I'm okay with it. I love the fact that there are folks out there volunteering to do something in their community to better the area, a family in need or just to feel accomplished! Volunteering is something I do a great deal of and I am rewarded everyday for it. It makes me feel wonderful to donate time, effort, energy, manpower or even dollars to help a worthy cause.

I only hope that their efforts are not looked at as less meaningful due to the choices (right or wrong) made by those that were the beneficiaries of the kindness.

Vacation - Part 1

Well, we've arrived! Panama City Beach, FL is growing like crazy! We've managed to visit the pool, the beach and the Publix today and that in itself has been wonderful! I want a Publix back home! Our trip down was full of conversation - something I'm not used to because I usually sleep on the way to anywhere! Mom is along for the trip and that is going just swimmingly! I have an ample supply of books to keep me company and I plan to come back tan and refreshed! We ventured down to the beach this evening - Brent, the kids and I - and Hayden went crazy! Hallie buried him in the sand and he returned to "home base" covered in sand! They're sand free now and relaxing to Ratatouille. I'm headed to the chair with my book and my drink... more later!

Snakes, Snails and Puppy Dog Tails!

The following is an email I received from Hayden's teacher yesterday:

"Today during PE Hayden was running behind someone and a rock flew up. Hayden says that it went into his mouth and he swallowed it. I told him that it would come out later when he sat down on the toilet. Hayden was worried but seems to be fine now. He is playing and doing math centers. I am not sure what he swallowed. I wanted you to know what happened at PE. Please send a reply so that I know you read this email."

When I stopped laughing, I composed myself enough to email her back and let her know that she had made my day with this story! I'm reminded of a day (way back when today's fashions were first in style) and I was playing outside in my neighbors yard. Yeah, we used to play outside all day long. You weren't allowed in the house unless you were eating or sleeping. Nevertheless, I happened upon a patch of wild mushrooms in the yard and joked with my friends about eating them. I didn't...but for some bizarre reason unbeknownst to myself, I went back to the house and announced that I had consumed the wild mushrooms in the yard. Sigh...perhaps it was a cry for attention; perhaps I was just bored and wanted to see how much she would believe. Regardless, I'm sorry I did it. No sooner did the words leave my mouth, my mom was administering Ipecac syrup by the spoonfuls and I was in misery in no time!

If she weren’t so concerned about the possibly poisonous mushrooms that I didn’t eat, she might could have been concerned about the eating disorder I could have developed from it all…but I guess she was smarter than that, huh? I learned my lesson…I never lied about eating potentially poisonous mushrooms again…ever!

Put Me In Coach!

That time of year is just around the corner! When you rush at break neck speed from work to pick up your little critters and cart them to their respective "after-school activities". It's time to gear up for fast food dinners on the run and fun times watching kids pick clovers in the outfield. Which brings me to my reason for this blog...Hayden's T-Ball pictures are back! Yep...and only about 10 months after they were made. Not bad, eh? Sigh....Ugh!!!!(and many other distraught, annoyed words) It absolutely disgusts me that people can be so unorganized! How is this possible? I really can't understand it! If organization is not your strong suit...or you simply can't handle the task of getting pictures to parents after they arrive....say, 'no thank you'. Step up and say, "That's not my strong suit...I'd rather be in charge of snacks." There is nothing wrong with that. Snacks are important - just ask the kids. That was always so funny to me last year. The kids would be into the game for about the first 7 minutes. After that it was, "Can we eat snack yet?" or "Who brought snacks this week?". It's a lot of pressure to bring 'cool snacks' too. Last April all participants in my son's athletic organization convened on one location for the photo shoot. That day, of course, was chaos. In defense, there were several teams there and each team had to have a picture in addition to each little players portrait being made. But, come on...it's not that difficult to organize something like that. My frustration comes from the fact that I've been pulled and jerked around as to the whereabouts of the pictures for which I paid $19 for over six months now. I've contacted the athletic organizations director. I've contacted the photographer to see if I could just get one wallet of my little dude in uniform! I didn't want the fancy player cards or anything...just one picture. It has taken an act of Congress nearly, but today my mailbox held a nice surprise. As I lowered the hatch, I found a lone white envelope which held part of my $19 package purchased in the Spring of 2007! I shouldn't have been so excited...because of the time lapsed and all...but I was. And now that the new season is set to kick off in less than a month, I'm ready to step up to the plate. I've thrown my name in the ring to coordinate/organize this 'event' for the organization next year. I might be sorry later, but right now I'm optimistic because I know I will rock at organizing the whole thing! Here's to making T-Ball fun and organized! Who's with me? ;)

What was I thinking?

Why is it that going out to eat can be so traumatic for me? If it's just me, the kids and my husband, no problems. I never have issues that I can't deal with. But, throw someone else and their child in the mix and all hell is probably going to break loose!

Not all kids, mind you, but certain ones. Why do I keep agreeing to go eat with them? And it's not the kids fault. It's the parents. (Note: If the adults you're dining with are disciplining your child more than you, you should probably pay more attention.) What makes you think anyone wants to continue the evening if your kid screams bloody murder because they can't hold the "buzzer" while we wait for our table? What makes you think that my idea of a perfect evening hasn't been ruined when I have to tell your kid, not once but three times, to put their ass in the seat and stop acting like their on an episode of Romper Room? What makes you think that I don't want to call it a night after bread and appetizers when I'm stuck sitting next to my kids and your child because you "don't mind if they sit over there"? Are you completely ignorant? Never mind...I should answer my own question.

My history with restaurants is mostly pleasant. I tend to pick them apart when I arrive. No one is safe - least of all, management. I will go through the operations with a fine tooth comb. I should be a health inspector/mystery shopper. I've been reduced to cleaning the bathroom in an Olive Garden before. Don't worry; I'm not embarrassed by it. If it had been up to par when I walked in, I wouldn't have had to do it. That's just my take. Yep, owning and managing my very own restaurant would make me as giddy as a school girl. Not only am I certain that I could do it, but I'm positive that I'd do it with skill, poise and professionalism. If nothing else, you could feel comfy about eating off the bathroom floor...if you wanted to. I base my standards on what I expect. But, I digress.

As for the company with which I have chosen to dine with recently, it may have been a mistake. I can no longer take the ridiculous behavior that comes with this particular human being's parents. They take every opportunity with others as a "break" from their child...a child that is starving for attention. It is this child that makes me realize how special child care providers really are. I always knew that particular profession wouldn't suit me...but never has it been more evident than when I'm exposed to this little ankle biter. Then there comes the awkward situation when the "Dad" talks about how sorry "Mom" is at the whole parenting thing and the only reason they aren't having anymore (Hallelujah!) is because he already feels like he has two kids with Mom and child. (While I totally agree with his statement, still awkward for the rest of us.)

Perhaps it's pity that makes me agree to this once in a blue moon. But, when I can't make it through dinner without downing several Blue Moons, I think it's time to reconsider present company.

Ode to the Grocer!

Please allow me these few precious moments to thank you…and I mean really thank you.

As a little girl (like many at a young age) I wanted so badly to be a cashier. I loved the idea of scanning the items, taking the money, using the register and bagging the groceries. (So strange that nowadays I desire a profession in the hospitality industry…but that’s for another blog!)

So, I thank you, local grocer - which shall go unnamed to protect the innocent – for making my dream come true this evening. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for employing young, ignorant teenagers who scan my items with such disdain even I no longer love life. And, also for teaching them the thing to do when they see a young mother of two struggling to weave her ridiculously overloaded buggy down the isle is to not even move their cart of ‘items being returned to the shelf’. No, no…please, finish your phone call first, “Bret”. I’ll just stand here and age.

(Sidenote: As my children grow up and get jobs of their own, I hope that society doesn’t alter so much so that being on your cell phone while stocking groceries is acceptable. Seriously, the only person important enough to call you at work when you’re sixteen is your mama…and then, by God, you better answer. Am I right?)

In addition, I’d like to personally thank you for allowing me the privilege to bag my own groceries. I was certainly feeling sub par in the challenge department (seeing as how all I did was get out in the cold and brave your supermarket in heels with two kids in tow). Bagging groceries was just what I needed to relieve my stress. Perhaps I’ll work it into my routine on a weekly basis? It was also a nice touch to have 10+ trainees standing at register 3 (me at register 4) and witness this tacky, yet somewhat comical, display of errors as I tried to bag my items correctly and according to placement. I mean, you can’t bag hamburger meat and grapes together, right? I feel that they may have picked up on some pretty important customer service skills while standing there popping their gum, texting their friends and rolling their eyes. Say it with me now, “That’s not my job!” Goooooooood! And if that wasn’t enough for them, they can just tune into my cashier “Tiphany’s” grand attitude about it all. She’ll have you perky in no time! I might have had sympathy for their acne ridden selves if I didn’t stand before them with my “bindi” in place.

So, again, I thank you. Thank you for helping me see the error of my ways. Thank you for proving that my decision to come to you and avoid the long lines at my local discount store that sells tires and groceries was WRONG!!! At least there I can do self checkout and get the real rush from playing cashier! You know…minus the money and all.

Up yours….truly!

My tribute!

In honor of the passing of Mr. Ledger, I thought I’d compile a list of peeves. I shall call it, 10 Things I Hate About You. YOU will refer to the action that is being done, not the person doing it. So, take no offense if you’re guilty.

1. I hate panty lines. HATE!!!!! It drives me absolutely crazy to see them. With all the modern options out there for feminine undergarments, find something that is seamless, barely there or thong-ish. If none of these options suit you, wear larger britches or go commando.
2. I can’t stand lipstick on a cup. Coffee cup, mug, glass…whatever. It seems tacky to me.
3. I hate unpainted toenails. I do not make exceptions on this. Please, please, please people. Paint those babies. It’s the decent thing to do.
4. I can’t stand it when the toilet paper is replaced incorrectly on the roll. It should always roll over, not under. ALWAYS!
5. I can’t stand it when someone’s pants leg is not over their shoe. If they’re walking around with it tucked into their shoe and they don’t even realize it, I have to ask how aware they are of their surroundings.
6. I hate for my side of the bed to be warm before I get in it. If someone has been sitting on my side of the bed, I can’t go to bed until it cools off. Same goes for my pillow.
7. I hate when someone borrows my chapstick/lipgloss and gets their own lipstick all over it. I will throw it away every time.
8. I hate to hear individuals misuse words in sentences. For instance, your boss tells you that you “unconsciously” do something when they really mean you “subconsciously” do it. You don’t do anything when you’re unconscious. DUH!
9. I can’t stand people that make excuses. I would rather hear a screaming child than excuses. Excuses do nothing but make me mad….they coincide with a negative attitude and the two hand-in-hand are insufferable.
10. Finally…those folks that walk around feeling important when their cell phone rings and then stick around to talk (loudly) to the person on the other end. Odds are, no one in the room is on the phone with you. So, we don’t want to hear what you’re saying.

These are just a few of mine. I have plenty more where those came from. Perhaps for another blog. Anyone got anything stranger?

We don't need your help, ladies!

I'll just get it out there...I don't like women in sports. Before you get in a wad, let me explain. I don't like the female color analysts...the sideline reporters. They have been put on the field to draw ratings. That's all. Most of them weren't chosen for their astute knowledge of the game. More likely they were chosen based on their backside...if you catch my drift. Take a peek at this story on Kelly Tilghman. Don't recognize her name? Well, she's a graduate of Duke and happens to have swung a golf club in her life. I, on the other hand, have never had the pleasure of teeing off. But, I'm also not on the Golf Channel spouting off at the mouth. For those that haven't already heard or read the link supplied above, she was broadcasting at the Mercedes-Benz Championship (The PGA's inaugural event of the season) and made the statement that young players "should lynch Tiger Woods in a back alley." I feel certain that I don't need to go into any detail on why this is so ridiculous! I'm pretty sure, and I haven't spoken to the moronic woman - I'm just assuming, that she's feels like a total idiot. I'm sure she's apologized both publicly and to Tiger himself. I'm sure she'll regret saying it. But why, or better yet, HOW do we let this happen? If I can back up to the statement I made earlier that 'I don't like female sideline reporters' I'd like to add something: Perhaps I just haven't seen one that I can respect. I haven't encountered one that has made me believe her knowledge of the game is in line with what she's saying. I just haven't found one that made me feel like she was down there for the love of the game. Don't get me wrong...I'd love nothing more than to be sandwiched between Tony Romo and Peyton Manning. But, I feel certain my discussion would be ill-fated if I tried to talk X's and O's with 'em! If they wanted to talk about how they organize their locker after each game or their pre-game rituals...that would interest me and I could definately keep up. But, the minute they segwayed into 'I-right formations, the shotgun or roughing the passer' you'd find me quiet as a mouse. I'm not saying all the ladies that are out there trying to change the face of sports are crap. Not at all. But, this little philly has not helped the cause, that's for sure. I beg of you...please think before you open that hole in your head you sometimes use for the consumption of food! You just may end up eating what you spew! I should probably add that I'm not an avid sports watcher. If the Auburn Tigers are playing, I'm tuned in. Other than that, I'd rather be watching paint dry/grass grow/wind blow...you get the idea. So, take this information for what it's worth. Perhaps it was my deep Southern upbringing that makes me feel this way. I'm not sexist in the least...I'm just partial to getting information (be it about a football game, chess match or politics) from someone that knows what the hell they're talking about! Is that so wrong?