I have a zillion things to do, so, instead of doing them, I sit down at my computer and spend two hours planning a trip.
Do I want to fly? Honestly, I've never flown anywhere. I'm a cheap bastard, and it pisses me off to see air fare that is $300 one day and $89 the next ... for the same frigging flight.
Do I want to take the train? Well, my stuff can't be locked, and I'd have to leave it unattended every time I went to pee or get something to eat. Even if I checked my bag, I'd probably lose my seat or have stuff like a jacket or a book stolen if I left it to hold my seat. Plus, who the hell knows who'd be sitting next to me.
I'd like to drive, but it's kind of boring to drive by myself. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm quite entertaining when I want to be. I can be a marvelous travel companion. There's no worry about my stuff getting lost or losing my seat to a nutcase at Penn Station.
The best part about driving (other than not losing my seat or having restrictions on my travel bags) is that I don't have to worry about plane de-icing, shoe bombers, or engines failing. And, quite frankly, the amount of time it takes to get to stations or airports, get settled, check in, wait for flight or departure delays, etc... I might as well get my ass in a car and drive.
Now, do I rent a car or drive my own car?
You see, this is why I rarely go anywhere. Decisions, decisions, decisions. Did I plan a trip? Sort of. Did I avoid doing the zillion things on my to-do list? Oh, yeah.
Tales of Trials and Tribulations ... and Other Disasters
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
Monday, November 30, 2015
WELCOME BACK, CHRISTMAS
Christmas is up. I repeat: Christmas is up! I mean, Christmas is up around my house.
Last year I just wasn't into it, and Christmas ended up being only the living room. This year, every room downstairs has a touch of Christmas, and Christmas is starting to crawl up the stairs, as well. There's garland over every doorway, candles in every room, and decorations (and toys) in most of the corners. Even the bathroom got tagged this year.
For some reason, though, one of my favorite decorations often stays inside its box. Some years I take it out and some years I don't. Mostly it's a pain in the ass to set up, and I usually don't have a spot for it that's convenient. This year is different, though. I staked out a spot (and electrical outlet) for this decoration weeks ago.
Today is its day. I am pleased to report that the Santa Band is officially in season.
Despite tangled cords and years of abuse and neglect, the Santa chimers still ring their miniature bells and produce decent music. I haven't played all twenty-four of their songs yet, as it would've driven my youngest crazy today, so I'll wait until he's not home and have at it. I'll let Santa and his band mates ring in the holiday season in jingle bell style.
Welcome back, Christmas. I missed you.
Last year I just wasn't into it, and Christmas ended up being only the living room. This year, every room downstairs has a touch of Christmas, and Christmas is starting to crawl up the stairs, as well. There's garland over every doorway, candles in every room, and decorations (and toys) in most of the corners. Even the bathroom got tagged this year.
For some reason, though, one of my favorite decorations often stays inside its box. Some years I take it out and some years I don't. Mostly it's a pain in the ass to set up, and I usually don't have a spot for it that's convenient. This year is different, though. I staked out a spot (and electrical outlet) for this decoration weeks ago.
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| (I know - mallet placement looks sketch. Work with me.) |
Despite tangled cords and years of abuse and neglect, the Santa chimers still ring their miniature bells and produce decent music. I haven't played all twenty-four of their songs yet, as it would've driven my youngest crazy today, so I'll wait until he's not home and have at it. I'll let Santa and his band mates ring in the holiday season in jingle bell style.
Welcome back, Christmas. I missed you.
Sunday, November 29, 2015
MAKE A LIST - DRINK MIMOSAS
I'd like to say this is a new development and blame it on aging, but, truth be told, I've always had a hard time remembering things. It's not that I'm stupid; it's more like my mind is too full of other things. My mind makes connections sometimes all on its own.
For instance, I started my fall cleaning weeks ago. It's still not done. Why? Because I decided to change up some things upstairs, which meant cleaning out junk I'd been saving, which led to getting rid of my old bed, which led to moving another bed into my room, which led to rearranging furniture, which led to changing out and washing curtains, which led to making more piles of things to sort, which led to ... And now I need to make a list of things I still need to do because one thing is leading to another and I totally forget now why I started this purging/fall clean-out in the first place.
I'm a master list maker. When I don't make lists, bad things happen. Take today, for example.
I am attending my daughter-in-law's baby shower. I need to bring soda, juice, and cookies. Oh yes, and I need the gifts. And I need to make sure my friends know where they're going because the map and the actual street don't really coexist. And I have to be early to make sure the soda and juice and cookies get where they're going. I bake the cookies the night before, and I get up at 5:00 a.m. to pour ice over everything in the cooler, including the cranberry-apple juice. But. not the orange-mango juice because that's in the fridge already.
Of course, as I am trying to get to the shower, it's raining like crazy out, so now I'm worried about my hair frizzing up like Bozo the clown. I get everything into the car -- cooler with drinks, bag with cookies, bag with gifts. I am running fifteen minutes behind schedule, all the time having that nagging feeling that I am forgetting something.
Did I make a list? Of course I didn't make a list. Everyone makes fun of me when I make lists, so I didn't make a list. It's drinks and cookies and gifts. How hard can this really be?
When I arrive, I realize that I forgot to take the orange-mango juice out of the fridge. It is still back at my house. I offer to go back and get it, but we end up not needing it, anyway, so it's all good and no one knows what an idiot I am for not making a list.
Afterward, when I finally roll home again, I have my youngest pop the cork on come bubbly and I mix myself an orange-mango mimosa. I may not have a list to write, but I do have a blog entry to write and a school paper to write. Might as well make it all interesting. Besides, the orange-mango juice is trying to hog the fridge space I need for more bubbly. Also, if I remember this all correctly and without a list, I still have an awful lot of sorting, filing, and rearranging still left to do around here, and, without a list, bad things happen.
Note to self:
1. Drink mimosas.
2. Write paper.
3. Drink mimosas.
4. Clean house.
5. Drink mimosas.
6. Put more crap away.
7. Drink mimosas.
8. Check social network sites.
9. Drink mimosas.
10. Write the blog.
11. Drink mimosas.
I see a list. I detect a pattern. All is right with the world.
Saturday, November 28, 2015
HOLIDAYS AND THE CINDERELLA COMPLEX
I've started my yearly routine of watching Christmas movies on the Hallmark Channel and the Hallmark Movie Channel. I have some favorites, and then there are a whole host of ones that should be avoided at all costs.
However, there seems to be a trend I hadn't noticed in years past. All of a sudden, every girl/woman in these movies is somehow unwittingly drawn to a prince or a king or royalty of some kind.
Um ... say, what?
When did the Cinderella complex come back in vogue? Did I forget to drop my glass slipper somewhere?
To be fair, I never have been one of those delicate flowers who needed constant attention. I don't like shopping, heels hurt my feet, and I'm not one for dining out. I can't find a hair style that suits me, and, even if I did, I don't know the first thing about styling products. Getting dressed up means mascara, earrings, and my best jeans. I don't need to be pampered, and I sure as hell don't need to be rescued. If I want to ride in a horse-drawn carriage, I can jump into one in Boston and go for a ride all by myself.
So, I try it. I try watching one of these "I become royalty for Christmas" movies. It makes me so uncomfortable that a couple of times I start twitching. Live in a castle? Ugh, no. First of all, there's too much furniture. Second of all, it takes too long to run back upstairs if I forget something (which I always do). Lastly, who the hell are all those extra people? What is this, Downton frigging Abbey? I need my alone time, folks. ALONE.
The capping, or crapping, moment for me is when the music comes on: "You make alllll my dreeeeeeeams come truuuuuuuuuuue..." Really? This is still an aspiration for girls of all ages -- to be swept off their feet by some rich guy on a horse? For me, this lifestyle would never work. Remember my hairdo/product disability? I suspect that means I could never wear a crown properly. I'd be a royal failure.
I don't get it. I mean, I guess I don't begrudge anyone their palace-envy, but I just cannot wrap my head around any of it.
I'll have to pay better attention to the titles of the Christmas movies, I suppose. I just turned one off because it had the word "Princess" in the title. I'd still like to watch some of my favorite Hallmark movies, and I'll still watch Christmas specials like Peanuts and Rudolph. But, if my doorbell rings and someone tries to make me try on a glass slipper, I'm just prewarning people right now that I will kick his royal ass.
However, there seems to be a trend I hadn't noticed in years past. All of a sudden, every girl/woman in these movies is somehow unwittingly drawn to a prince or a king or royalty of some kind.
Um ... say, what?
When did the Cinderella complex come back in vogue? Did I forget to drop my glass slipper somewhere?
To be fair, I never have been one of those delicate flowers who needed constant attention. I don't like shopping, heels hurt my feet, and I'm not one for dining out. I can't find a hair style that suits me, and, even if I did, I don't know the first thing about styling products. Getting dressed up means mascara, earrings, and my best jeans. I don't need to be pampered, and I sure as hell don't need to be rescued. If I want to ride in a horse-drawn carriage, I can jump into one in Boston and go for a ride all by myself.
So, I try it. I try watching one of these "I become royalty for Christmas" movies. It makes me so uncomfortable that a couple of times I start twitching. Live in a castle? Ugh, no. First of all, there's too much furniture. Second of all, it takes too long to run back upstairs if I forget something (which I always do). Lastly, who the hell are all those extra people? What is this, Downton frigging Abbey? I need my alone time, folks. ALONE.
The capping, or crapping, moment for me is when the music comes on: "You make alllll my dreeeeeeeams come truuuuuuuuuuue..." Really? This is still an aspiration for girls of all ages -- to be swept off their feet by some rich guy on a horse? For me, this lifestyle would never work. Remember my hairdo/product disability? I suspect that means I could never wear a crown properly. I'd be a royal failure.
I don't get it. I mean, I guess I don't begrudge anyone their palace-envy, but I just cannot wrap my head around any of it.
I'll have to pay better attention to the titles of the Christmas movies, I suppose. I just turned one off because it had the word "Princess" in the title. I'd still like to watch some of my favorite Hallmark movies, and I'll still watch Christmas specials like Peanuts and Rudolph. But, if my doorbell rings and someone tries to make me try on a glass slipper, I'm just prewarning people right now that I will kick his royal ass.
Friday, November 27, 2015
TAKING A NAP - WHY MY JOB IS GOING TO KILL ME
My job is going to kill me.
Every Friday I am so wiped out from work that I sleep about ten hours at night. Sometimes this marathon sleeping comes on after napping post-school on Friday in the afternoon and early evening. So many directives; so much extra teaching time; so much educational and curriculum time stolen for so many initiatives and social programs and activities to make all the kids feel like little boxes made of ticky-tacky that all look just the same. Trophies for everyone! Huzzah!!!
Wednesday, after the half day in which I did a lot of filing after collecting homework and letting the kids do Thanksgiving-related, language-type papers, I run a few errands, including sitting at the car dealer while my vehicle gets an oil change, tires rotated, and general pre-winter maintenance work done. I read a few magazines, do a couple of puzzles, and doze a bit. Then, I hit the store for something I forgot to buy Monday (canned pumpkin for the pumpkin butter ... duh), hit the ATM, get gas in the car for the trip to Maine, bake pumpkin bread and make the pumpkin butter (now that I have canned pumpkin), and generally have a relaxing evening.
Still. School. Is. Trying. To. Kill. Me.
It's Thanksgiving morning. I am supposed to be driving to Maine. I wake up around 5:00, my usual work time, and decide to loll in bed for a few more minutes. I must doze off because I am suddenly awakened by an incoming text message. Hmmm. I wonder what time it is ...
Geeeezuuuuuhhhsssmuddafuddingkreeeeeee.... 9:20! 9-frigging-20?!?! What the --- I can hardly believe that I "napped" for four more hours. I gotta get my ass moving. What's wrong with me?!
But, I remember that in the last work week we have had half-days, open house, social CARE day, Massachusetts Tiered System of Support days (x2), this directive, that requirement, these statistics, that report to write. And, on top of it all, I have THAT CLASS I have to take on Tuesday nights.
Good gawd, it's a wonder I'm not STILL sleeping twelve hours later. I don't need a bridge to jump off of nor some fatal disease nor old age. My job is going to kill me. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go take a nap.
Every Friday I am so wiped out from work that I sleep about ten hours at night. Sometimes this marathon sleeping comes on after napping post-school on Friday in the afternoon and early evening. So many directives; so much extra teaching time; so much educational and curriculum time stolen for so many initiatives and social programs and activities to make all the kids feel like little boxes made of ticky-tacky that all look just the same. Trophies for everyone! Huzzah!!!
Wednesday, after the half day in which I did a lot of filing after collecting homework and letting the kids do Thanksgiving-related, language-type papers, I run a few errands, including sitting at the car dealer while my vehicle gets an oil change, tires rotated, and general pre-winter maintenance work done. I read a few magazines, do a couple of puzzles, and doze a bit. Then, I hit the store for something I forgot to buy Monday (canned pumpkin for the pumpkin butter ... duh), hit the ATM, get gas in the car for the trip to Maine, bake pumpkin bread and make the pumpkin butter (now that I have canned pumpkin), and generally have a relaxing evening.
Still. School. Is. Trying. To. Kill. Me.
It's Thanksgiving morning. I am supposed to be driving to Maine. I wake up around 5:00, my usual work time, and decide to loll in bed for a few more minutes. I must doze off because I am suddenly awakened by an incoming text message. Hmmm. I wonder what time it is ...
Geeeezuuuuuhhhsssmuddafuddingkreeeeeee.... 9:20! 9-frigging-20?!?! What the --- I can hardly believe that I "napped" for four more hours. I gotta get my ass moving. What's wrong with me?!
But, I remember that in the last work week we have had half-days, open house, social CARE day, Massachusetts Tiered System of Support days (x2), this directive, that requirement, these statistics, that report to write. And, on top of it all, I have THAT CLASS I have to take on Tuesday nights.
Good gawd, it's a wonder I'm not STILL sleeping twelve hours later. I don't need a bridge to jump off of nor some fatal disease nor old age. My job is going to kill me. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go take a nap.
Thursday, November 26, 2015
THANKSGIVING THOUGHTS
Today I am one of the seven million (or so) people who are traveling for the Thanksgiving holiday. I am dragging my youngest along with me, traipsing up the highway with our pumpkin bread, pumpkin butter, and hoping to have an uneventful ride.
If I know me, I'll be the root cause of some craziness -- something that will embarrass my sister/hostess in front of her family. One year I made fart noises with my jeans by twisting my butt in her freshly polished dining room chairs. Another time I sat at the kids' table and instigated general mayhem. Okay, last year that happened. Last year I sat at the kids' table.
My sister and her husband are unbelievable cooks. They prepare dishes for the meal that are so elaborate and wonderful that I cannot even pronounce the names of the recipes. If it's anything more complicated than turkey, mashed potatoes, squash, and cranberry sauce (jellied, not whole berry), I know I'm in trouble. I have been practicing my enunciation wall week: "Pahdon-nay moi, but do you haaaave any Greyyyyy Pouponnnnn.....?" Seriously, though -- I am going to eat like a czarina at my sister's house.
As for the rest of it, HAPPY THANKSGIVING. Let's do it all over again next November.
If I know me, I'll be the root cause of some craziness -- something that will embarrass my sister/hostess in front of her family. One year I made fart noises with my jeans by twisting my butt in her freshly polished dining room chairs. Another time I sat at the kids' table and instigated general mayhem. Okay, last year that happened. Last year I sat at the kids' table.
My sister and her husband are unbelievable cooks. They prepare dishes for the meal that are so elaborate and wonderful that I cannot even pronounce the names of the recipes. If it's anything more complicated than turkey, mashed potatoes, squash, and cranberry sauce (jellied, not whole berry), I know I'm in trouble. I have been practicing my enunciation wall week: "Pahdon-nay moi, but do you haaaave any Greyyyyy Pouponnnnn.....?" Seriously, though -- I am going to eat like a czarina at my sister's house.
As for the rest of it, HAPPY THANKSGIVING. Let's do it all over again next November.
Wednesday, November 25, 2015
ODE TO THANKSGIVING GROCERY SHOPPING
T'was the eve before Thanksgiving
And all through the store
Was a mass throng of people --
The horror! The gore!
The carts willy-nilly
All over the aisle;
People pushing and shoving
Behavior gone vile.
The lines to the checkout
Were several hours long.
Ice cream had melted;
The turkey'd gone wrong.
The mayhem; the bloodshed -
The disharmony,
Just so we can spend
A day with family.
I see all their faces
Pressed up near the glass.
I'm not going in there --
I'd bust my old ass.
The best thing about
Watching this sad display:
I did all my grocery
Shopping Monday.
Happy Thanksgiving Eve, everybody!
And all through the store
Was a mass throng of people --
The horror! The gore!
The carts willy-nilly
All over the aisle;
People pushing and shoving
Behavior gone vile.
The lines to the checkout
Were several hours long.
Ice cream had melted;
The turkey'd gone wrong.
The mayhem; the bloodshed -
The disharmony,
Just so we can spend
A day with family.
I see all their faces
Pressed up near the glass.
I'm not going in there --
I'd bust my old ass.
The best thing about
Watching this sad display:
I did all my grocery
Shopping Monday.
Happy Thanksgiving Eve, everybody!
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