tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-136996662024-03-13T22:53:47.310-05:00writinggalWritinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.comBlogger1356125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-49565150613537119692021-02-01T16:42:00.002-05:002021-02-01T16:42:30.437-05:00The end of "Cold = Cold?" <p> When the experts--CDC, Fauci, Hoda--tell us how we can best protect ourselves against Covid-19, this is what they always say: </p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Wear a mask</li><li>Wash your hands</li><li>Don't go outside without a jacket</li><li>Stay 6 feet apart </li></ul><div><br /></div><div>Wait. Which of these things just doesn't belong here? </div><div><br /></div><div>That's right!! Nobody says anything about wearing a jacket! And while we're at it, nobody says we shouldn't go out with wet hair or with our ears uncovered. This brings me much joy because I feel hopeful that maybe NOW the 75% of people (and I'm being generous) who believe these things will finally realize: </div><div><br /></div><div><b><a href="http://writinggal.blogspot.com/2015/10/cold-case.html" target="_blank">YOU DON'T CATCH A COLD FROM BEING COLD!!!! </a></b></div><div><br /></div><div>Although I am hopeful, I still think we might need to do some FAQs to really drive this point home: </div><div><br /></div><div>Q: But Elsa, I understand that you can't get Covid-19 from being cold but what about the common cold? </div><div><br /></div><div>A: Believe it or not, Covid-19 and The Common Cold have a lot of similarities--the main one being that they are both classified as a VIRUS. And you catch a virus from people, not from weather. </div><div><br /></div><div>Q: Hmmm I guess that makes sense but what if I go outside with my hair wet? Won't the cold air penetrate through to my head and I will catch a cold? </div><div><br /></div><div>A: No. Again, the air outside does not give you a virus--cold, flu, Covid-19. In fact, being outside whether it is cold or not is a great way to PREVENT getting a virus because you are not in close quarters with people. </div><div><br /></div><div>Q: Then explain why people get colds more often in the winter. </div><div><br /></div><div>A: Cause they stay inside too much and spread their germs. </div><div><br /></div><div>Q: What about windows? Do I need to keep all of my windows closed so my house doesn't get drafty and I catch my death? </div><div><br /></div><div>A: You could catch your death if you leave your windows open--by falling out or someone breaking in and murdering you. But no, you will not catch your death via a cold. </div><div><br /></div><div>Q: What do I do if my kids refuse to wear a jacket when they go outside during the winter? </div><div><br /></div><div>A: Nothing. It truly doesn't matter. </div><div><br /></div><div>Q: No way!!! </div><div><br /></div><div>A: Yes, way. And while we're at it, could everyone please stop asking my son Leo where his jacket is? Do you ACTUALLY want to know its whereabouts? Because the answer is, it is in a closet. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>So are we clear now?! I realize I am not a doctor, a nurse or even a medical office receptionist, but you can trust me. I am a writer AND a group fitness instructor. Or don't and bundle up, close your windows and dry that hair. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p></p>Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-57638246804124945172021-01-26T15:41:00.001-05:002021-01-26T15:41:49.979-05:00Thank the Lavender<p> Hello, my name is Princess Covida and I am on day...243...189...356...oh it's been so many I can't keep track anymore...of my Covid Isolation. </p><p>I'm trying to scratch these marks on the wall of my cell so I don't get confused about what day it is. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sv50ZTai6pA/YBB0YABF2II/AAAAAAAAKt8/88Wditu52L0QtrP-7sKqTtEdeBwkFGN6gCLcBGAsYHQ/s363/009%2B-%2BWall%2BNotches.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="285" data-original-width="363" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sv50ZTai6pA/YBB0YABF2II/AAAAAAAAKt8/88Wditu52L0QtrP-7sKqTtEdeBwkFGN6gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/009%2B-%2BWall%2BNotches.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><p>Oh, wait. My wall has two marks on it. It has been two days in this guest room with an en suite bath. How did I get here? That's where the lavender comes in. </p><p>Sunday, 1/24, was my 44th bday. A dear friend popped over to drop off a gift--this lovely lavender plant: </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-96Ckm1wNRWQ/YBB1sHoBNGI/AAAAAAAAKuI/nbFunAaAy9wBZWEpLsr8HTQQnwsTQcePQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_8105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1175" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-96Ckm1wNRWQ/YBB1sHoBNGI/AAAAAAAAKuI/nbFunAaAy9wBZWEpLsr8HTQQnwsTQcePQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_8105.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I couldn't smell it. Even when I stuffed my face way down in there, no lavender scent. I couldn't smell hand sanitizer, laundry pods, dryer sheets, Irish Spring soap. You get the idea. So I got a test and here I am. Day two. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am going to interview myself so I can hopefully answer some of your burning questions: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Do you know where you got it? </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">No. Also, that is my least favorite question. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Are you taking anything for it? </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">No. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Do you have any other symptoms besides not being able to smell or taste? </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Not really. A little bit of a stuffy nose. And I get super sweaty in the middle of the night. TMI? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>What do you miss most about the outside world? </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Target. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>But it's only been two days. How can you miss Target already? </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's kinda like how you miss Chick Fil-a on Sundays even though you can go there Mon-Sat. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Um, what about your kids? Don't you miss them? </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Well, I can hear them. Very loudly. Plus I have to FaceTime Gus every few minutes to make sure he is doing his schoolwork. He enjoys looking at himself on the camera more than listening to me. Can. you blame him? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Bq9v7PqWJI/YBB5sOa3DOI/AAAAAAAAKuU/FKr95SGbIRswBqOdzAJGMOenIefOGEPxgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1136/IMG_8109.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Bq9v7PqWJI/YBB5sOa3DOI/AAAAAAAAKuU/FKr95SGbIRswBqOdzAJGMOenIefOGEPxgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_8109.PNG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>What are your accommodations like? </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm in our guest room which has a bed and two night stands and a TV. The window looks out to the street which is awesome for spying on, I mean checking on the neighbors. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bFUvo3t9xeo/YBB6hxc7O5I/AAAAAAAAKuc/I-OXu9A8Ji01zEv-tx_btogwo8uZ5BYyACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_9954.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bFUvo3t9xeo/YBB6hxc7O5I/AAAAAAAAKuc/I-OXu9A8Ji01zEv-tx_btogwo8uZ5BYyACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_9954.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>How about the amenities? </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Funny you should ask. Those could be better. I get my food delivered outside my door from an untrained chef who often gets my order wrong. (When I say AVOCADO I don't mean NO AVOCADO!!) Also, I have to get my water from the bathroom sink. I mean, I know it is the same water but still...it's from the bathroom. BUT he did do a good job making and delivering my coffee this morning. The dishes are starting to pile up in here though and I wish I had a dumb waiter that would clean, sanitize and send them back down. Maybe I will invent that while I am stuck in here. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>How do you keep your spirits up, Princess Covida? </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I appreciate you finally addressing me correctly. Oh, you know, I meditate. I stick my head out the window for some Vitamin D. I walk in circles around the room, trying to get my 10K steps in. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>What have you learned about yourself from this experience? </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I smell my own armpits A LOT. I guess I am always checking to see if I need to shower. And you just don't realize that you stick your nose in your armpits until you don't have a sense of smell. Every time I do it, I think, "Hmmm, I smell like nothing." And then I remember...the lavender smelled like nothing too. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Thank you for these insights, PC. Your story has really...well, it hasn't motivated anyone yet but you still have eight days to go. </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You are most welcome. Just wait until I invent that sanitizing dumb waiter (patent pending). </div>Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-10287092154926563282020-11-10T13:56:00.000-05:002020-11-10T13:56:05.409-05:00The Tooth Fairy's Business Model <p> <span style="color: #9900ff; font-family: Lobster, cursive; font-size: 21pt; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;">A NOTE FROM...</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-e8881963-7fff-f9e9-3e71-28ce64f9a5b4"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9900ff; font-family: Lobster, cursive; font-size: 21pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Tooth Fairy </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bree Serif", serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dear Gus- </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bree Serif", serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I heard you were disappointed about the gift I gave you. I am sorry you were sad :( </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bree Serif", serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We fairies don’t feel the emotion of disappointment but I know it is a normal feeling for my human friends--you expect one thing but you get another! That can be a major bummer. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bree Serif", serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I thought it would help if I explained how my Tooth Fairy business works: </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bree Serif", serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I get a tooth from a child, I figure out what to leave under their pillow based on two things: </span></p><br /><br /><ol style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><li dir="ltr" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; list-style-type: decimal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bree Serif", serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration-skip: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Which tooth it is: </span><span style="font-family: "Bree Serif", serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 400; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your tooth was a “Lateral Incisor” which is an important tooth--well, they all are! Right now I have a medium amount of those so I give a medium amount of money for them. If I had A LOT of those I would give less money and if I had only a few, I would give more money. It’s all about “Supply and Demand” which you will learn more about in school. </span></p></li></ol><br /><br /><ol start="2" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><li dir="ltr" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; list-style-type: decimal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bree Serif", serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-skip: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your parents’ rules:</span><span style="font-family: "Bree Serif", serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration-skip: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Bree Serif", serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You may not know this but your parents give me guidelines on how much I am allowed to give you (same goes for Santa). Some parents say “Give our kid whatever you want!” and some give me a range like, “Give my kid anywhere between $.25 and $5 but never more than that.” And still some parents say, “Don’t give my kid ANY money; just give him stickers or a pencil.” (By the way, I don’t love giving pencils because those don’t work that well under pillows--ouch!) </span></p></li></ol><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bree Serif", serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The bottom line is, you never know what to expect from me. Like all fairies, I am UNPREDICTABLE! I hope that clears up any confusion, Gus! </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bree Serif", serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love and Fairy Dust, </span></p><br /><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bree Serif", serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">P.S. You keep your room very clean! Thank you! Makes my job much easier!! </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bree Serif", serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gJb3z4fKd5g/X6rhgvk0uII/AAAAAAAAKsM/5Tx7uh-wPr8u0Zr6EPy2NK7tcg9405jgwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_6600.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gJb3z4fKd5g/X6rhgvk0uII/AAAAAAAAKsM/5Tx7uh-wPr8u0Zr6EPy2NK7tcg9405jgwCLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/IMG_6600.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GQ7uJqvzlIk/X6rhgfnyA4I/AAAAAAAAKsI/V_bGdseS4McB6jzHsgD6vQxeDbVElwNMwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_9644.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GQ7uJqvzlIk/X6rhgfnyA4I/AAAAAAAAKsI/V_bGdseS4McB6jzHsgD6vQxeDbVElwNMwCLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/IMG_9644.HEIC" width="480" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3v-YNGEh6N0/X6rg-cSvKrI/AAAAAAAAKsA/6NkPhRJIeK4F-wOImdeCv23JHrhUfAFegCLcBGAsYHQ/s1280/45F46C45-AEAC-47E5-BB81-9B7A64CCFD29.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="353" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3v-YNGEh6N0/X6rg-cSvKrI/AAAAAAAAKsA/6NkPhRJIeK4F-wOImdeCv23JHrhUfAFegCLcBGAsYHQ/w471-h353/45F46C45-AEAC-47E5-BB81-9B7A64CCFD29.jpeg" width="471" /></a></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Bree Serif", serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bree Serif", serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bree Serif", serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><br /></span>Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-56026176040078787672020-09-29T21:19:00.000-05:002020-09-29T21:19:00.845-05:00Conver-cusions with Gus<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-76kRorXt9-A/X3PpCB7MxLI/AAAAAAAAKq4/BPokkzruwlgOOf56QqxjXIVf-7SLzPMRACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/kKi87tSFRoGAIa9xtr4vgg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="420" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-76kRorXt9-A/X3PpCB7MxLI/AAAAAAAAKq4/BPokkzruwlgOOf56QqxjXIVf-7SLzPMRACLcBGAsYHQ/w315-h420/kKi87tSFRoGAIa9xtr4vgg.jpg" width="315" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Gus (age 9) is a funny, honest, handsome, athletic, smart little boy. He is also <b>chronically confused.</b> A dialogue between the two of us often sounds like "Who's on First?" They are more like conver-cusions rather than conversations. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Examples, would help, obviously: </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">As Gus was heading back to regular school last week (for one day), I asked him if he wanted to bring his lunch or buy. He said he wanted to bring so we started negotiating what would go in his lunch box. Curious, he asked what they were serving at school. I pulled up the menu and showed him that the options were orange chicken with rice or a "jamwich" pack. He mulled it over and considered changing his plan. "Well, I could get the jamwich pack and if I don't like it, I can always go get a muffin or something." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"No, let me explain how it works now," I said. "Things are different <i>because of Covid." </i>(Parents utter those last three words to their kids all day long.) "You can't just walk up to the cafeteria line after you get your food and get other things. They don't have other things. It's grab and go. They just have what is on this menu." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"So, are we eating in our classrooms?" Gus asked. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"No, you are eating in the cafeteria but that's different too, like they will have empty seats--" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Are you going to pick me up before lunch?" Gus asked. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">At this point I am exasperated because, by the way, we are having this discussion in the morning, BEFORE school when time is crunchy. "No, Gus! That is why we are packing this lunch right now!" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Do I eat this lunch outside?" Gus asked. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"NO!!! YOU EAT IT AT SCHOOL IN THE CAFETERIA!! DO YOU WANT TO BUY OR BRING?!!" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Gus, looking completely lost replied, "But you said it's <i>grab and go</i>???" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">OHHHHHHHH. Ok, Amelia Bedelia. "You grab it from the lunch line and GO to your seat. And you just don't get up again!!" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">In addition to latching onto one thing and taking it literally, Gus also jumps around from topic to topic which makes for complicated conversations: </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Me: "There was a storm last night. Did you hear it?" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Gus: "No, I don't ever hear storms when I'm sleeping" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Me: "Well, Smitty heard it and since he is scared of thunder, I slept in the living room on the couch near him." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Gus: "Was daddy already asleep? Why doesn't he ever sleep on the couch with Smitty?" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Me: "Since daddy has to get up really early for work, it is my job to sleep on the couch near Smitty." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Gus: "It's your job? Is that because you bought Smitty? How much did Smitty cost? Do dogs cost money?" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Then I went into a whole thing about how we got Smitty from a shelter and there is a certain fee you pay, like $100, for the shots and stuff they give him but it is not a big cost. I was about to go into the difference between a rescue dog and a breeder dog and the cost when Gus said: </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"I just can't WAIT to be able to drive. I think about it all the time! I am going to love driving. I'm saving up now to buy a car. How old do you have to be to drive a car?" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">HUH?????</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Also, it seems that so far, Geography isn't a strength. We were driving today and we passed a big apartment complex. We were about 15 min from home at this point. Gus says: </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Hey, is that the place we stayed one time with the lazy river?" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"No, we definitely have never stayed there but what place are you talking about?" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Oh, you know, it had a lazy river, a pool, a hot tub and I made a friend!" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">It took me a little while to figure out what place he was talking about but finally I realized he meant a condo we stayed at in Fort Walton Beach. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Do you mean the place at the beach?" I asked. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Yes!" he said. "And Leo said that the only thing that could make it better was if we had our dog and there were lots of other dogs and he could play video games as he floated in the lazy river." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"So, you thought this place right here was by the beach?" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Yes." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"So you thought we lived like 15 minutes from the beach?" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Well, NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT, I know that it takes longer to get to the beach like 1 hour and 30." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">(It takes 6+ hours if we only stop two times to go to the bathroom and drive thru to get food without eating inside, btw. But I am glad the trip goes by so quickly for him!) </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">On this same excursion today he said, "If you turn right down that road, that's where my football practice is." It wasn't. Not even close. But he argued with me that it was. Like he would know better than me. I mean, I can actually drive!! </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I'll leave you with just a funny comment he made tonight. I was reading Harry Potter and a character talked about how he needed to look "smart" because his relatives were coming. I explained to the kids, "They are saying smart the way the English say it, meaning they want to look nice, not that they are trying to look intelligent." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Gus: "But WE are ENGLISH!!" </span></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d5W1-CksbkU/X3Ppf5-9yaI/AAAAAAAAKrA/rouCEBaxPJoMyT8znR5shTOVINNjsisLQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/ypB%2525jvplTdezytrBmFgHRg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="467" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d5W1-CksbkU/X3Ppf5-9yaI/AAAAAAAAKrA/rouCEBaxPJoMyT8znR5shTOVINNjsisLQCLcBGAsYHQ/w350-h467/ypB%2525jvplTdezytrBmFgHRg.jpg" width="350" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-36480517549433533722020-06-15T21:43:00.000-05:002020-06-15T21:43:10.920-05:00Sandwich StrengthI have been getting a lot of requests for more workouts that you can do at home*<div><br /></div><div>(*"A lot" means my friend from high school Jessi and my sister.)</div><div><br /></div><div>I made this video for my sister. I only mention that because you might wonder who I am talking to. Oh, and I should probably also explain the title. </div><div><br /></div><div>I call the exercises in this video sandwiches: </div><div><br /></div><div>You do a lower body move for 30 seconds </div><div>Then you add an upper body move for the next 30 seconds </div><div>Then you lose the lower body and keep the upper body for the last 30 seconds </div><div><br /></div><div>So the lower body move and the upper body move on their own are like the bread and then the "meaty" part of the exercise is when you do the upper and lower together.
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</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><pre style="text-align: left;"><br /></pre><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>If your muscles aren't fatigued after 90 seconds then you can adjust the time of your sandwich--45, 45 and 45. Or you can adjust it the other way--20, 20 20. </div><div><br /></div><div>Have fun with your sandwiches! And if my fans bombard me with requests, I can make more videos! </div>Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-24915670068782023352020-03-29T15:26:00.004-05:002020-03-29T15:26:57.619-05:00But WEIGHT--there's more Quarantine TabataSo if you happen to have weights, here are two more ideas for Tabata you can do! Honestly, you can do these without weights but it may not be challenging enough for you. I have a feeling you are super fit if you are reading my blog about Tabata!<br />
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Repeater Knee<br />
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Punches S2S (that is exercise instructor shorthand for Side to Side)<br />
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<br />Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-2386064055003186882020-03-23T18:26:00.001-05:002020-03-23T18:26:05.551-05:00Quarantine Tabata<span style="font-size: large;">Stuck at home and can't get to the gym? Feeling like the subject of judgmental stares if you run outside? Don't let the Corona Calories pile on; exercise at home! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"But Elsa, I don't have any equipment! And I don't want to order a treadmill; who knows who touched it? Plus, I'm broke big time." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I gotcha. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tabata is just what the doctor ordered (in addition to hand washing, social distancing and not touching your face). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tabata is an interval workout but it's not just any random intervals. It's super scientific, y'all. That's what I love about it. Dr. Tabata, a Japanese Scientist, helped to design the workout for the Japanese speed skating team. The method (or "the Tabata Protocol" as it is technically called) helped to improve their times, even with just one set of Tabata. That's only 4 minutes of work!! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here's how it works: </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">20 minutes of high intensity exercise </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">10 seconds of an active recovery </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">8 times </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">High Intensity exercises are things like: </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">jumping jacks</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">running with high knees</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">jumping rope without the rope </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">burpees </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">mountain climbers</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">jumping squats</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Active recovery moves are things like a step-touch, a march or a hamstring curl. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Your heart rate goes way up on the 20 seconds and comes down to the middle on the 10 seconds. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here is an example video I made for you! This is one set of Tabata--4 minutes. I like to alternate two moves (like I am doing here) but you can do the same move eight times or do one move four times, another move four times. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you do have some equipment like light weights or bands, you can incorporate those too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I like to do jumping jacks with a band on my legs and a band on my arms or punches side to side with weights or repeater knee on a step (bottom step of staircase) with weights. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So how many rounds should you do? That is totally up to you!! If Tabata is your workout for the day, you should probably do 4-6 rounds. Today I did the treadmill for 20 min. and two rounds of Tabata. It's a great supplement to a moderate workout. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, and DO get a free Tabata timer to use on your phone. I like this one, Tabata Stopwatch Pro: </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sure, you could just use a stopwatch but trust me, when you are working at Tabata maximum level, it is way too hard to remember what round you're on. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Happy Quarantine Tabata-ing! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-17198564496198258622020-02-04T21:25:00.002-05:002020-02-04T21:25:53.791-05:00A Souper TrickLeo and I are both very good<strike> liars</strike> actors and we fooled Gus and Frank who are both quite <strike>gullible </strike>trusting.<br />
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We had a Bingo Night at the kids' school and if we brought canned goods, we got raffle tickets for bidding on door prizes. I went a little crazy with the canned goods and we procured A LOT of raffle tickets.<br />
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Leo named himself the raffle boss of the family and spent most of the evening lurking around either the door prizes or the DJ who announced the winners. He felt confident in his strategy--to choose just a few prizes and put a lot of tickets in each.<br />
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Early in the night Leo won a Stars and Strikes gift card for six people to bowl and have a pitcher of <strike>beer </strike>soft drinks.<br />
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<span style="text-align: start;">As if that wasn't exciting enough, Leo still felt hopeful that one of the other prizes would go in his favor. </span></div>
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With their Bingo cards depleted, Frank and Gus hitched a ride home with another family while Leo and I stayed behind to see if he would be a double winner. </div>
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And he was!! He won two tickets to a UGA game (that is University of Georgia for my Texas readers) this fall! We had to run out of there for fear we would be attacked by jealous bulldawg fans. </div>
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On the way home we concocted a story because we are quite the <strike>liars </strike>storytellers. Let me preface this by saying Gus hates soup. Thinks it is gross. </div>
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<i>Scene: Leo and I arrive at home. </i></div>
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Frank: Did we win anything else? Did we win the UGA tickets? </div>
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Leo: Nah. But we did win something else. Not as good as that. </div>
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Frank: What did we win? </div>
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Leo: Free soup for a year. </div>
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Elsa: There is this new place opening called "Souper" and Leo thought it meant like "Super Hero" so that's why he put a ticket in there. But really, it's a soup place. </div>
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Frank: Wow. So we can get free soup for a year?? That's pretty cool! </div>
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Elsa: Well, it's all vegetarian soup like broccoli cheese and tomato. </div>
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Frank: Oh, that's not as good. But still, free soup for a year!!? </div>
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Gus: That's so gross. I don't want any soup!! </div>
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Frank: How does it work? Can any of us go get it? Whose name is it under? </div>
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Leo: Any of us can get it. </div>
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Elsa: Yeah, anyone in the Simcik family. </div>
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Finally, after several more questions from Frank and disgusted noises from Gus, Leo revealed that we had indeed won the coveted UGA tickets!!! Gus was excited and eagerly put on his Georgia gear to pose for a pic. </div>
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After all the celebrating and rejoicing Frank said, "I can't believe it!! We won Stars and Strikes, the UGA tickets and FREE SOUP FOR A YEAR!!"<br />
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Oh dear. I told you he was <strike>gullible</strike> trusting. #blesshisheart<br />
<br />Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-85270823751032944482020-01-28T20:56:00.002-05:002020-01-28T20:56:44.221-05:00Darndest Things 2020<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I don't want to make any promises...but I would like to try to write more blogs in 2020. Still, don't hold me to it. And notice I didn't put a goal like every day or once a month or twice a year. </div>
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Or maybe you didn't notice because nobody reads my blog anymore! Maybe I am just talking to myself. And if that is the case, well the pressure is really down. </div>
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In the first weeks of 2020, each male in my family has said or done at least one memorable darndest thing. I will now share them: </div>
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Gus, singing along with the Frozen song, "For the First Time in Forever" and when it got to the part where Anna says, "Don't know if I'm elated or gassy," Gus said loud and proud, "Don't know why all the ladies are gassy" </div>
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Turns out he has thought that is what they have been saying for six years!! Now, of course, that is how we prefer the lyrics. </div>
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Frank, as we were stretching together at the Y which we only do like...never...we've never done this. I begged him to stretch with me the other day. Anyway, I told him to go into Child's Pose and he sat up into criss cross applesauce (formerly Indian Style). I said, "That's not child's pose!" and he said, "Yes, it is. This is how kids sit!" </div>
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And finally, Leo: He has really started to fine tune his comic timing. He asked Frank to come play a board game with him and Gus and Frank said, "I can't right now, guys. I have to go do the grill" and Leo, without missing a beat, went right into, "And the cats in the cradle and the silver spoon..." </div>
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Unrelated to the stories above, I give you these photos from the past couple of months. Enjoy! </div>
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<br />Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-11025544520463515602019-11-05T20:33:00.000-05:002019-11-05T20:33:04.520-05:00Bye bye, BackpackYou may know that I try not to get too attached to things. It's part of my minimalist lifestyle, which by the way, I was doing long before Marie Kondo (although she is more extreme about it and obviously doesn't have hoarder kids).<br />
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There are a few things that I have held onto for a LONG time though--like my fraction calculator from 7th grade, my eyeglasses (2001-2019 RIP) and my white terrycloth bathrobe with a hood that Frank says makes me look like a boxer (high school graduation present, 1995).<br />
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Yesterday I had to throw out a backpack that I have carried around proudly since 2004. 15 years! It wasn't just any backpack; it was my claim to fame for running a marathon. I did the Austin Motorola Marathon in 2004 and in case you're wondering, I did it in just around 4 hours. That is a very respectable time for anyone who isn't Kenyan or my sister-in-law, Julie. I was so proud of my time that after I ran that, I vowed to never run a marathon again. In fact, I have barely run since then. It's kind of a quit-while-you're-ahead strategy.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SVCAbxpt_gk/XcIf5F99hNI/AAAAAAAAKdw/Ve1ypUYkvII_GBOy1K1v7dUyNAtfIJ7XgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/hHjnFhcWQ2K2oDCdY0oGZg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SVCAbxpt_gk/XcIf5F99hNI/AAAAAAAAKdw/Ve1ypUYkvII_GBOy1K1v7dUyNAtfIJ7XgCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/hHjnFhcWQ2K2oDCdY0oGZg.jpg" width="300" /></a>After I ran the marathon in 2004, I took up indoor cycling. And in 2005 I started teaching spin classes. It was then that I began using my well-deserved Motorola Marathon backpack to tote my spin gear. Now I have been teaching spin and other exercise classes for 14 years and I have taken that backpack to every single class. It holds my cycle shoes, my mic belt, my wind screens for my mic, a spiral with my class plans, a sweaty towel or two and a plastic mouth shield should I ever have to perform mouth to mouth CPR.<br />
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As a rough estimate, I would say that backpack has gone to 1,400 or so classes with me. It has sat on gym floors, on chairs, on stages, in my car, in locker rooms and of course, on my back.<br />
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I used to take (not teach) a 5:30am Tabata class at the Frisco YMCA. Sometimes the instructor would contact me the night before and ask if I could teach it for her, which I usually would. One day I walked in to teach the class and I announced to the people that were already there, "Today I'm teaching" and this lady said, "Oh, we can tell because you have your big backpack with you!"<br />
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I would have kept it for 15 more years (because who doesn't like to show off that they once ran a marathon sponsored by a now defunct company?) but sadly, it started to fall apart. And then it became so holey that my precious gear (sweaty towels, wind screens, etc.) weren't even protected anymore.<br />
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As I tearfully went through my beloved backpack (well, I didn't actually have any tears but I came close), I found some artifacts. I pulled out an envelope called Cycle 16 which had very detailed lesson plans for a cycle class. Now I have NO lesson plans and I can't believe I used to choreograph all of this down to the second. So much work!!<br />
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I dug out an ancient iPod, a pony tail holder, some corroded batteries (ew!!) and two still-wrapped Fiber One bars. I am pretty sure I haven't eaten a F1 Bar since 2007 so that was somewhat frightening. Surprisingly, it still tasted great! *<br />
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After cleaning out the backpack that has been my companion for 15 years, I unceremoniously threw it into the trash. Now I have no proof that I ran that marathon. I guess I will have to run another one**</div>
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*Obviously, I didn't eat that Fiber One bar!! Did you really think I did? </div>
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**No way am I running another marathon! But if there is something easier I can do for a backpack, sign me up! </div>
<br />Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-44728152306741681622019-09-22T22:06:00.001-05:002019-09-22T22:12:01.281-05:00The OCD Club<br />
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"I'm so OCD. I HAVE to have all my silverware stacked up according to the TYPE of utensil they are."<br />
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"If my house is messy, it drives me crazy. I'm so OCD."<br />
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"Ew, I hate when my food touches each other. I'm just OCD about it."<br />
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Stop it. Just stop. You do NOT have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. And what's more, if you did, you would NOT be bragging about it.<br />
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You are NOT in the club. You actually have NO IDEA what it is like to be in a club like this. If you did, you wouldn't say it so flippantly.<br />
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When you say, "I'm so OCD" but you aren't, you are trivializing a disease that is serious, that is debilitating... a condition that makes life unbearable.<br />
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You wouldn't say...<br />
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"He is SO retarded."<br />
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"Sugar makes me crazy. I'm such a diabetic."<br />
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"My hair looks awful. It's like I have cancer."<br />
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Yes, it is JUST like doing any of the above.<br />
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Obviously I have a strong connection to OCD. Let me tell you what life is like living with someone with OCD. True OCD.<br />
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EVERYTHING triggers it. People with OCD CANNOT function in a lot of situations...going to school, church, restaurants, vacations, people's homes...all nightmares for the person suffering, plus their family.<br />
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They freak out, make scenes, run away.<br />
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The people I know with OCD have had to go to extremes to help their loved ones including taking them to intensive treatment programs. Some people I know have had to send their kids to residential facilities to live FOR WEEKS.<br />
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Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is nothing like you think it is. It doesn't mean you like to wash your hands. But it may mean you HAVE to wash your hands hundreds of times a day until they are raw. It doesn't mean you don't like the smell of vomit. It means that you think someone could vomit at any time and therefore you can't go ANYWHERE or even hear someone cough without having a complete panic attack. It doesn't mean that you don't like the feel of tags on your shirt. It means you have to read the tag on your shirt 100 times or someone you know will die.<br />
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THAT is life with OCD. And it completely sucks.<br />
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So when you casually say you have OCD, you are hurting those that do. Because when they reach out and say THEY truly have OCD, no one takes it seriously. No one understands the severity of the situation.<br />
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The other day I mentioned to someone that my loved one has OCD and she said, "Oh, I know all about that. My husband! He has to have everything clean all the time."<br />
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YOU HAVE NO IDEA, is all I can think.<br />
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So stop. Please stop. Take it out of your vocabulary. Quit saying that your preference for cleanliness and your proclivity to adjust your picture frames makes you "so OCD."<br />
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You don't have OCD and when you say that, it makes you sound retarded.<br />
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<br />Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-47100825269868715822019-05-06T20:32:00.000-05:002019-05-06T20:32:33.059-05:00The Payment Princess <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CJODSDPyHyc/XNDepCv9LZI/AAAAAAAAKXg/07WArgv1cj8tXxLZSEqBnpA_IfdJ3lBlwCLcBGAs/s1600/online%2Bbill%2Bpay%2Bheader.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="650" height="147" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CJODSDPyHyc/XNDepCv9LZI/AAAAAAAAKXg/07WArgv1cj8tXxLZSEqBnpA_IfdJ3lBlwCLcBGAs/s320/online%2Bbill%2Bpay%2Bheader.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I guess you could call me an online bill pay snob. If I get a bill and it doesn't have an option for paying online, I curse them. In fact, I boycotted my dermatologist bill for awhile. I saw the bill. Then I saw that I have an appointment coming up in a few weeks. So I thought to myself, I'm just gonna pay it at my appointment. I'll show them. If a sophisticated, modern dermatologist office with three locations can't find a way to offer online bill pay (and I have complained about this before), then they can just wait for their money. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But then I got a nasty letter. Something about being overdue and some more verbiage about a collection agency. So I paid the damn thing. Sent it in the MAIL. Like it was 1993 or something. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then I got another nasty letter which told me that--surprise--the mail takes awhile. Their threatening note and my belated payment must have crossed in this archaic system. I called the derm office just to make sure they received my payment. They did. Naturally I had to tell them why I was tardy or else what was the point of my protest? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The lady on the other end said they are ALMOST finished finalizing their online bill payment system. She said she was VERY excited about this. I told her I was too. Cause this white girl visits the derm pretty often. So often, in fact, that one day when I had an appt with my regular doctor, I accidentally went to the derm instead. Like on autopilot. They were all, "You don't have an appointment" and I was all, "Yes, I do. It's me. Elsa." And they're like "Oh, we know who you are. Your suspicious moles and mysterious rashes are what pay for our vacation homes...that is, when you pay your bills on time." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So once my derm gets their online bill system set up, I don't think I will have anymore medical practices that don't offer it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But let's talk about people. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I happen to be in a position where I often collect money from people. The invention of PayPal and Venmo has made this AMAZINGLY easy. I have to collect money for teacher gifts, classroom supplies, coach gifts, bus driver gifts and sometimes just pizza for a group of people at the pool. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am getting to the point where I pretty much ONLY accept PayPal and Venmo. I don't want your cash. And I REALLY don't want your check. (Although BofA has made check depositing SO MUCH easier now that we can take a pic of it. Amazing. It blows my mind.) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So now that I think about it, RECEIVING checks is not all that bad. I more just question a person who is under the age of 50 who doesn't have a PayPal or Venmo account. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The worst is when I owe someone money and they don't take one of the above. If someone asks for a check, I say, "Seriously? You REALLY don't have a PayPal or Venmo?" And they say, "Um...don't those things charge fees?" And I'm all, "No. It's this super efficient and magical system in which friends pay each other for things. It is so much easier and faster. Also, if you are collecting money for a group gift, you will receive much more money than if you make everyone write checks." And then they say, "Um, could you just write me a check?" And I say, "Ok fine. I'll write you a check like this is 1997. Can I give it to you next time I see you?" And they're all, "You can just MAIL it to me." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Great," I say. "I will send it via snail mail right after I write the check, find an envelope, put it in the envelope with a paper around the check for security and a written explanation of what it is for, put a return address label on it from the Humane Society (you're getting an ugly cat one, btw), find a stamp which I may or may not have, put it in the mail, you should have your money in about 22 days." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then my hypothetical non-online-payment friend says, "Cool Beans. I'll send you an email when I receive it. What is your email address?" </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I say, "elsasimcik@hotmail.com" </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!!! You still use a Hotmail account?? Wow, it really is 1997!!!" </span><br />
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<br />Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-29612879111580043932019-02-21T20:35:00.001-05:002019-02-21T20:35:45.401-05:00Leo SpielbergI remember seeing an interview with Steven Spielberg's mom once. I recall that the interviewer asked Ms. Spielberg if her son had shown an interest in movie-making when he was a kid. His mom nonchalantly responded with something like, "Oh, he sort of created things in the living room. I mean, he made a dolly to roll a camera on..."<br />
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The interviewer was like, "Um, I think if a kid makes a dolly and pretends to film movies in your living room, that's a sign he is pretty interested in filmmaking."<br />
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Now Leo has taken an interest in filmmaking. No, he hasn't made a dolly for a camera, He doesn't have to. He has an iPad. And it has an app. And he has created two movie trailers that are now sweeping the...cul de sac?<br />
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Gus asked him if he had turned his trailers into movies yet. Leo rolled his eyes and said, "No, Gus. I couldn't make a movie that quickly. Movies take HOURS to make."<br />
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Here is his first trailer:<br />
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And here is his second. Typical sequel, not quite up to the standards of the first. But that is to be expected. I mean, how could he top SUPER SMITTY?<br />
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I look forward to my interview one day. "Ms. Simcik, did Leo show an interest in movie making when he was a kid?" </div>
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"Oh, I don't know. He used to follow our dog around and film him and create these elaborate movie trailers." </div>
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"Um, all kids did that. They used apps and iPads. Your kid is not that special. Why am I even interviewing you?" </div>
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"Because Super Smitty is the number one movie of 2034!!" </div>
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<br />Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-4235977067325502332018-12-05T10:40:00.000-05:002018-12-05T10:40:52.823-05:00A Hall of ButtsThe conversation at dinner had me laughing so hard that I thought it worthy of posting here on my blog, which I see I have been neglecting for over three months. I am sick right now so laughing actually hurts but these boys had me in stitches. It went like this:<br />
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Leo and Gus were talking about the different types of drills they have at school--fire drills, tornado drills and intruder drills. (Btw, I asked them about intruder drills and they said they all cram into a closet and lock the door to the classroom...so scary! Glad they didn't ask me why they needed to do intruder drills).<br />
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Gus: But tornado drills are the worst! You have to get down like this (crouches down, curls up and puts his hands over his head).<br />
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Leo: And the teachers don't have to do it! They just walk down the hall and our heads are all facing the wall so it is basically a HALL OF BUTTS.<br />
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(This is when I started giggling...which just encouraged them to go on).<br />
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Gus: And sometimes, people's pants come down a little bit when they're crouched like that so you can see their underwear. But you're crouched too so you actually can't see it. (He gives a disappointed sigh.)<br />
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Leo: Well, sometimes I stand up to protest the torture and I DO see people's underwear!<br />
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Gus: You do???!!!!<br />
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Leo: Yes! And sometimes their pants come down so far you see a little bit of their butt cracks.<br />
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Gus: Like half their butt crack??<br />
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Leo: Sometimes it's like three-quarters of their butt crack! It's like a hall of butt cracks!<br />
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Then, as you can imagine, the two of them got really carried away and inappropriate and I had to shut it down.<br />
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But today, every time I think the phrase "it's like a hall of butts," I can't help but laugh.<br />
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Hmmm...maybe I need to get out more...<br />
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Or stop hanging out with my seven and ten year old boys.<br />
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<br />Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-28395398546835490902018-09-25T20:27:00.000-05:002018-09-25T20:27:03.935-05:00Off the Grid<span style="font-size: large;">Remember how I told y'all that I was taking <a href="http://writinggal.blogspot.com/2018/02/a-zuckerberg-break.html">a break from Facebook? </a>Well the break continues and I love every minute of it. Well, I don't LOVE every minute of every day. That would be something fake that someone might post on Facebook. But I do love life without social media. That's right. I don't Tweet anymore either. Not that I really was a big tweeter. Or that anyone ever read my tweets. But I liked to glance at the Twitter every now and then. Not anymore. The one thing I still pop onto is Insta. It's just pics and I can be insta on and then insta off. </span><div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes I'll think, "I wonder what's going on with so and so" and I'm tempted to check Facebook but then I think, "Do I really care? Do I really need to keep up with so many people? It's exhausting." And sometimes I'll think, "It's my amazing child's birthday; I should post about it" and then I think, "Why do I need to post about that? I know it's his birthday. He knows it's his birthday. He doesn't even have a Facebook account. And honestly, he's really not all that amazing. I'm not sure I even <a href="http://writinggal.blogspot.com/2018/02/a-zuckerberg-break.html">love him to the moon and back.</a>" </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is what life off the grid looks like: </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When I'm in line at the grocery store, I read the magazines instead of my phone. I had missed <a href="http://writinggal.blogspot.com/2005/08/stars-theyre-just-like-us.html">"Stars they're just like Us!" </a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If someone's bully, bratty kid wins an award for something like kindness, I don't have to be totally annoyed because I don't know about it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When I hold the plank (I'm up to 3 minutes, 20 seconds! Come on, I have nowhere else to brag about these things now!!) I don't look at social media anymore. I look at Zillow. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I used to look at social media before going to sleep which would inevitably cause me to have strange dreams about random people from high school. Now I just have strange dreams about people I see in real life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Not only do I not really know what's going on with anyone else, but nobody knows what's going on with me. I'm like a woman of mystery. Did she go on a trip? There are no pictures. Does she work out? She didn't check in at the gym. Does she eat? There are no food pictures. Does she pack her kids' lunches? There are no boastful bento box pics. Does she have political views? She has no rants. And boy, would I like to know when it is her amazing kid's birthday!! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's kind of like being in the witness protection program. Except I keep the same name and look. And I'm really not in danger. Actually I am probably in less danger because people don't know when I am out of town. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And since I'm not posting pics (except every now and then on my acquaintance Insta), I'll put a few of my precious children here and it's not even their birthdays! </span></div>
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Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-68487756837021201432018-07-15T21:44:00.001-05:002018-07-15T21:44:42.831-05:00Summer 2018--Blink and you'll miss it!!The summer is flying by! Or maybe it's just that the summer actually is comically short. These poor kids only get a few weeks off and then BAM it's middle of July and here come the back-to-school sales and school supply lists! As much as I enjoy them being in school for most of the day, I seriously feel bad for the dudes. Can we just HAVE JULY?? Come on!! Anyway, I wanted to give a quick recap of our summer so far, highlight-reel style:<br />
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<li>Leo went to sleep away camp for a week. He had fun but he did very little sleeping, showering, changing his clothes or brushing his teeth. So next year we'll focus on hygiene a little more. This year was more about survival. </li>
<li>We went to Pittsburgh to celebrate Nana's 90th birthday. Did a skit. </li>
<li>The kids used their passports for the second time and went to Mexico for the second time. We loved our eco-friendly resort with water slides. Leo learned he loved snorkeling. Gus learned he loved ping pong. Frank and I learned that we love resorts with kids' clubs. Wait. We already knew that. </li>
<li>Gus did swim team. Leo didn't. </li>
<li>We had a fun 4th of July at a neighbor's house, complete with bouncies, a water slide, video games, a band (Frank was in it!) and fireworks. Oh, the best part--port o potties! </li>
<li>We hung out at a lakehouse near Dallas so I could catch up with sorority sisters. We all developed a love for Jet Skis! </li>
<li>The kids spent a week in Houston while Frank and I spent a glorious kid-free week back at home in Atlanta. I organized the pantry--highlight of my summer so far!! </li>
<li>The kids flew from Houston to Atlanta by themselves! Leo's third time as an unaccompanied minor and Gus' first!! </li>
<li>Oh, I almost forgot. Gus had a birthday this summer as he does every summer! His 7th. He did a joint party with his buddy Luke. And Frank had a birthday too! </li>
<li>A few times this summer we have packed lunches for kids in our community who need them. The kids are best at decorating the bags and dropping snacks in, assembly-line style. </li>
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And here is the photo evidence of our fast but fun summer! At press time, we have three weeks left which is sure to be filled with lots of pool time and ugh school supply shopping. But one week prior to the first day, we are checking out the new Great Wolf Lodge (just south of Atlanta!!) with friends. </div>
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Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-46015234937457538442018-05-13T21:35:00.002-05:002018-05-13T21:35:43.074-05:00Watch Out<br />
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I think we can all agree that phones are killing our society. They cause otherwise normal people to become inconsiderate, self-absorbed and downright dangerous. But since we are all AWARE of that, I think most people TRY to be better, even if they fail at it. Like I think most people realize that sitting at dinner, looking at your phone instead of your dinner companion, is rude. They may not always stop, but they know they are being a jerk.<br />
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But here's a new one that is creeping up on us. It's what I call Inspector Gadget style watches. I'm talking about your Apple Watches, your FitBits that have text messaging, etc. (The "etc" is because I really don't know any other examples but I assume they exist.)<br />
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People--again, otherwise polite, good-mannered folks--think it is perfectly fine to look at their wrists and read a text while having an in-person conversation with someone else.<br />
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To that you may say, "People do that with their phones too! What's the difference?" With phones, it is possible the device may not be on your person. So if your text dings or vibrates and it is away from you, you won't hear it. You won't check it for a few minutes. And guess what? When you do check it, 99% of the time, it's not important. Not even a little bit.<br />
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Yet when someone's watch buzzes on their wrist, no human is unable to resist the temptation to look at their watch. They can't. It's impossible. I don't have one myself but I don't know that I, with my superior will power and awareness of all things related to technology inconsiderateness, could resist that easily. But come on, I would.<br />
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I have had two incidents with this in one week which has motivated me to address it:<br />
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1. I'm at a party, talking-to a lovely acquaintance. She is always pleasant, always a joy to talk to. I haven't hung out with her that much but I would say she is someone with fine manners. Yet as we were talking, her watch vibrated. Her head immediately went down to look at her wrist. There was no, "Excuse me. I need to check this. I am waiting to hear from my babysitter." Just in the middle of conversation, her head looks away from me and down at her watch.<br />
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It gets worse.<br />
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Whatever was on her watch must have piqued her curiosity (and was way better than whatever we were talking about) so she gets her phone out of her pocket and looks at the text more closely. Again, there is no explanation. Then I THINK she said, "Excuse me" and just wandered off.<br />
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Hello???<br />
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The next encounter was with another friend who I think of as having excellent manners. I was excited to tell her about a new rug I had gotten. Just as I got to the punchline--the price, which was crazy low--she looked down at her watch, read a text and put her hands to her head like, "Oh, crap. I just got the worst news of my life." Then she looked back up at me and said, "Oh, sorry. Love your rug. Love the price."<br />
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Well, at least she tried to cover.<br />
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Sometimes I feel alone in this--like I just have to accept that society is going into the toilet (but not without their phones and watches flushing away with them).<br />
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But then I remember Jerry Seinfeld. He has been talking about the problems with phones from the get-go. Like this one. It was so long ago that he was talking about Blackberries. But I love how he compares it to reading a magazine while you are talking to someone:<br />
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8-0ZpH4Lhy8 <br />
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But back to the watches--because obviously, we have lost the battle with the phones. Can you watch people TRAIN yourselves to not look at your watches just because they buzz?? Or if that is too hard, could you not wear the watch? Or set it so it doesn't buzz?<br />
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Or I don't know, actually look into the eyes of the person you are talking to when she is TELLING YOU ABOUT THE AWESOME, PRACTICALLY FREE RUG SHE GOT???<br />
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Because if you keep choosing to look at your watch over me, you are going to miss out on awesome stories such as these.<br />
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<br />Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-67843409248259313072018-04-26T08:23:00.000-05:002018-04-26T08:23:01.664-05:00Easy Riders We have done the Disney thing. And it was fun. But we had a double stroller, diapers, change of clothes, lots of snacks and some whining. This past spring break we ditched Disney and went for Universal and LegoLand. And I think I can confidently say we are done with Disney. On this trip all I brought to the parks was a mid-sized purse. No stroller. No diapers. Minimal whining. With Leo and Gus being 6 and 9, we flew through the parks and everyone could ride everything. (We've been height challenged in the past.) Universal had amazing rides and LegoLand had amazing Legos (and a waterpark!) Here is a photo dump from quite possibly our best trip yet:<br />
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<br />Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-9309615451528508752018-03-15T21:08:00.001-05:002018-03-15T21:08:20.664-05:00Leo and Gus say the Darndest Things XVIIMIIX<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I thought that, as Leo and Gus got older, the cute (i.e. ignorant) things they said wouldn't be so cute anymore. But at ages 9 and 6, they're still pretty cute. It is quite amusing to hear their take on the world. Whenever they say something worth repeating, I type it into a little list-making app. Yes, they have an app for that! So with that, I am just going to dump all the latest funnies right here: </div>
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Leo: I always say, "The More the Merrier."<br />
Me: Oh, really? Is that your motto?<br />
Leo: Sometimes. Depends on what it's more of.<br />
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(I guess that one was more insightful than funny...I appreciated it cause I always say "The More the Scarier.")<br />
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Gus: Why do babies go in bellies?<br />
Me: Because that's how God made it.<br />
Gus: What if I have a baby in my belly right now?<br />
Me: Boys can't have babies in their bellies.<br />
Gus: I'm glad I'm a boy! I don't have to have nipples. <i>pause</i><br />
Wait!!! I DO have nipples!!<br />
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Me: I have to go give Leo his medicine.<br />
Gus: What does Leo have again? Social Media?<br />
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Leo, explaining dog breeding to Gus: When dogs get married it's called breeding. Right, mommy?<br />
Me: Yes, exactly.<br />
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Gus: The word free has two meanings.<br />
Me: Hmmm...I guess it does.<br />
Gus: Yep, free like I'm free to go and free like one two free.<br />
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Gus: A kid in karate got his belt taken away.<br />
Me: Really? Why?<br />
Gus: I don't know.<br />
Me: Well, who was it?<br />
Gus: I don't know and besides (<i>in stern voice</i>), it is none of our responsibility!!<br />
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Frank: When you guys take vacations with your families when you're older, where do you think you'll go?<br />
Leo: I'm not going to have kids.<br />
Frank: So you won't ever go on vacation?<br />
Leo: If I don't have kids, my whole life will be a vacation.<br />
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Another insightful one from Leo!!<br />
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That's all I got! But I will keep collecting these gems on my trusty app. </div>
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(Btw, I don't know why the only pics I could find of them together are shirtless.) </div>
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<br />Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-17194418606151778332018-02-06T12:24:00.000-05:002018-02-06T12:24:09.600-05:00A Zuckerberg BreakI have been on Facebook since 2008--practically a pioneer. But recently I had an epiphany that not only is it a huge time suck, but my "friends'" posts are sometimes so incredibly annoying, I find myself irritated after a quick scroll through my newsfeed. So I broke up with Facebook right before Christmas and so far, I don't feel the need to go back. Now, I didn't totally deactivate my account. Zuckerberg has his claws into me so a lot of my accounts (like PayPal or Uber or whatever) are linked through Facebook.<br />
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But since I have been on this hiatus, I am less irritable. I am not so bitter. And I have lost ten pounds! Okay, two out of three of those are true. Here are some of the things I do not miss about Facebook:<br />
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<b>1. Kid tributes</b><br />
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Whenever one of my Facebook friends' precious children has a birthday, they often feel the need to directly address that child (who typically does not have a FB account) and pay tribute to them. It almost always contains the following three components:<br />
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<li>Sweet </li>
<li>To the moon and back </li>
<li>Please stop time/freeze time </li>
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And it usually goes a little something like this: </div>
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"Happy 6th birthday to our sweet Jackson!! You are caring, kind, funny, athletic, smart and even though you drive us crazy sometimes, we couldn't be prouder to be your parents! We love you to the moon and back, sweet Jackson! I cannot believe you are SIX YEARS OLD! Time please stop!"</div>
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And that's a short one. I had one friend who called her child "quite simply, amazing." Really? A six year old? What, in his short life, could he have done that is so amazing? Just curious. And are kids really "sweet?" I know mine aren't and that is why I especially hate that adjective. Yes, we get it. You love them to the moon and back. Well, I love mine to the moon and back and then BACK AGAIN to the moon! So there. </div>
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<b>2. Spouse tributes</b><br />
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People, if you love your spouse, just tell them. Or write it in a card. But do we really need to see a mushy post to your spouse (who sometimes, like the child, isn't even on Facebook) EVERY ANNIVERSARY?<br />
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"Happy 11th anniversary to my soul mate! These past eleven years haven't always been easy but through it all, you have been my constant companion, supporter and lover. And our three amazing children are a testament to that. I love you and them to the moon and back."<br />
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<b>3. Child shaming </b><br />
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As much as people love to brag about their own children, they also like to diss other children. A friend of mine posted that her two year old was bitten by another two year old classmate at school She posted a picture of her sweet victim. 50+ comments later, I'm surprised the mother of the biter didn't have to go into the Witness Protection Program. She didn't train her child to bite. He's two! That could have been any of your children. "Oh, but my sweet child would never bite!" Well, then you're lucky. It's not cause of anything you're doing. But God could have given you a biting child and you would still have to love him to the moon and back.<br />
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<b>4. Pyramid schemes </b><br />
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So if you're selling something and you just say, "I'm selling this. Do you want to buy it?" I'm cool with that. But if you're trying to sell your "lifestyle" to lure me into your pyramid scheme, we're not cool.<br />
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"This is my 'office' for today--view of my pool, my coffee...love working from home and having flexibility!! #youshouldjoinme #jobperks<br />
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<b>5. Profile pics of kids </b><br />
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Your profile picture represents YOU. If you make your profile pic your kid, are you saying that YOU are your KID? Cause I usually think of myself as a separate human from my children. But that's just me. And what message does that send to your kid? I mean, you already said he/she is "quite simply, amazing" and now you are saying you want to be him/her? It's hard for me to believe little Madison can stay so "sweet" with all of this worshipping.<br />
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<b>6. Ya'll </b><br />
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Y'all, it's spelled y'all. Not ya'll. It is a contraction for "you all." Y'all are welcome.<br />
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As you can see, I am getting back to my bitter, irritable, ten pounds heavier attitude just thinking about all of these Facebook pet peeves. I'm going to forget about it all now and get back to my super flexible, quite simply, amazing Facebook-less life.<br />
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<br />Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-71557622936610875742017-12-19T18:21:00.002-05:002017-12-21T14:23:57.593-05:00Woah Snow! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In Atlanta and in Dallas, we are prepared for an annual snow or ice day. Schools close. We dare not drive. We bust out the winter coats, hats, gloves and boots that we have purchased for such an event. Most of us even have at least one sled. If not, we use laundry baskets.<br />
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But last week in Atlanta we got LOTS of snow. More snow than I have seen outside of Colorado. I heard different reports so I don't have an accurate inch count. But let's just say it was somewhere between seven and eleven inches of snow.<br />
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We did all the usual things but it was even more fun because the snow was powdery, not icy. And oddly enough, it wasn't horribly cold. Another cool thing about this snow (besides the amount of it), was the fact that it happened in December, so the snow mixed with the Christmas decorations made for postcard-like pics. However, we were so busy in the snow that I don't have tons of pictures. But I give you this photo dump of the few I do have so you can see (and I can always remember) Snowmageddon 2017!<br />
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We made a LEGIT snowman. </div>
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Driving was a little treacherous, especially when you are trying to take pictures. </div>
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Smitty has seen snow once before but Luna (our neighbor's dog) was a snow newbie.<br />
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They both loved it. Smitty wore his "Thunder Coat" just in case. </div>
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Catching the snow. </div>
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Eating the snow. </div>
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Our snowed-in house</div>
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Another road pic. </div>
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Me, a regular snow bunny. </div>
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Working on their snowman</div>
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Ready to take a sled ride with neighbor Dylan. </div>
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My cookie exchange went on during the snow! </div>
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Gus delivered luminaries to neighbors (uphill in the snow both ways!) </div>
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This was the weekend after the snow but had to include Smitty meeting Santa. </div>
<br />Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-64212808885350805172017-11-16T21:02:00.000-05:002017-11-16T21:02:40.038-05:00Musical MayhemSweet Apple Elementary is known for its musicals. And by "known," I mean by the parents and students. Each grade does a musical review of some sort of theme. Leo has done one about Thanksgiving, one about the weather and one about school. For this, his FOURTH musical at Sweet Apple, he participated in Bee-bop with Aesop--all about Aesop's Fables. Leo did great. And by "great," I mean he didn't do anything weird during the musical. #winning<br />
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You will pleased to know that I just recorded the first thirty seconds or so of each song :)<br />
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<br />Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-68421394628690554152017-10-16T07:39:00.000-05:002017-10-16T07:39:00.720-05:00Plan B(each) One thing we like about living in the Atlanta area (besides the trees, hills and <a href="http://writinggal.blogspot.com/2014/02/sweet-tea-scorecard.html">access to sweet tea</a>), is how easy it is to drive to fun vacation places--beach, mountains, Disney World. Frank and I also get a kick out of the fact that you can just be in another state within a matter of a few hours. Well, I guess we could have been in Oklahoma that quickly when we lived in Frisco. So let me clarify: I mean you could be in another state that <i>you would care to visit</i> in a matter of a few hours. (Still never been to Oklahoma!)<br />
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For the Columbus Day weekend, we had plans to go to "the beach." That's what people say here. "I'm going to the beach." Let me just give you a small sampling of the beaches that are within driving distance that they could possibly be talking about: Destin, Gulf Shores, Panama City, 30A, Amelia Island, Hilton Head, Tybee Island, St. Simon's Island, Folley Beach, Myrtle Beach, Fort Walton...<br />
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To me, since there are SO MANY beaches you could be going to, I would expect that people would specify the location. But no, they always just say "the beach" as if we live in New Jersey and they are going to "the shore." I always have to ask, "Which beach?"<br />
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So back to our beach plans: I'll go ahead and take the mystery out of it. We were going to the Fort Walton area--Okaloosa Island, specifically. We had never been there and we were excited to try a new place.<br />
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But then a few days before we were scheduled to leave, a tropical storm threatened our beach vacation. I didn't worry about it until the day before, when it really looked like it would hit. Then I went into vacation scrambling mode--moved the Fort Walton vacation to another date and switched to Myrtle Beach, which was the only beach within driving distance that didn't have storm threats. Bonus: we had never been there!<br />
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A friend of mine told me about a place there that had an indoor water park, and sat right on the beach. She warned me that the condo/hotel is "an older, beach motel" so not to expect anything fancy. I told her that would be right up our alley, having been to a "fancy" beach over spring break and being unimpressed. (If there's not a restaurant in sight where you can go in wearing just your bathing suit cover up, we don't call that a beach vacation.)<br />
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This place delivered. It was beachfront, had tons of kids activities and it was CHEAP!! Frank marveled at the deal we got all weekend. It had just the right mix of fun and tacky--exactly what we like in a beach vacation.<br />
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A quick summary of our trip: beach, lazy river, water slides, shell collecting, eating at cheesy restaurants, riding on rides, jumping on the bungee swings, watching a magic show (free at our hotel!), doing a duck race, watching movies, drinking Starbucks (also in our hotel!!), sitting in the hot tub and playing A LOT of foosball. (Yep, that's FOOSball. It's kind of our family's favorite sport.)<br />
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And here is a summary in pictures. Overall, we think it was an excellent back-up plan!<br />
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<br />Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-59480027777100951952017-09-20T20:28:00.003-05:002017-09-20T20:28:31.019-05:00Laundry Room Revitalization We have lived in this house for nearly three years. And for THREE YEARS I have suffered. Suffered from a dysfunctional laundry room.<br />
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I realize this sounds like a #firstworldproblem and perhaps it is, but I think if I explain my backstory, you will understand.<br />
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You see, my house prior to this, in Frisco, had a dream laundry room--the mother load, if you will. It was probably as big as a child's nursery. It had pretty tile, cabinets, hooks, a place for my beloved Dyson, A SINK and a window!! It was bright, airy and it just made doing laundry so pleasant. Maybe that's why I stuck with cloth diapering so long. I would never have been able to deal with that in my current laundry room. But then again, I still look back at those cloth diaper days and think, "What was I thinking?"<br />
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But anyway, the laundry room in this house is basically a closet. And that would be okay except the door to the closet opens INWARD. But wait. It gets worse.<br />
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For some reason the hook-ups were BACKWARDS. (Please excuse my need to use all caps; it just seems really fitting here.) So my washer was on the LEFT and my dryer--the RIGHT! Who does that??<br />
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And even that would be okay except the doors on my machines aren't set up to be backwards. So this is how I did laundry:<br />
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1. Open the door inward and squeeze in there with my laundry basket.<br />
2. Close door cause I can't have the door open AND the washer door open at the same time.<br />
3. Start to feel claustrophobic in tiny laundry room with NO WINDOW.<br />
4. Open washer door, start laundry.<br />
5. One hour later, squeeze into laundry room again, start to sweat.<br />
6. Try to transfer clothes from washer to dryer (going from right to left which is just so unnatural) and have to maneuver around washer door to put clothes in dryer!<br />
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As you can see, it was quite an ordeal. But I can't totally bash my laundry room because it does have one thing going for it--location. It's upstairs which is actually really convenient. My old one was downstairs so I guess the score is old laundry room--8, current laundry room-1.<br />
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So after three years of this, I came up with a solution. Now my first solution was a barn door or a pocket door but those proved to be too costly so I went with just changing the door so it would swing outward, into the hallway. I enlisted the help of a handyman and he also helped me figure out how we could get the washer dryer back to their rightful places! This whole project just cost me a little bit of money and it only took him a few hours.<br />
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I wish I had a before video but then again, it would just be so depressing. Instead, I will leave you with this "after" video.<br />
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Now I LOVE doing laundry! I mean, sure, there's no window but I can live with that. Come on, I'm not a diva!<br />
<br />Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13699666.post-63197477260175108512017-08-21T20:45:00.001-05:002017-08-21T20:45:52.781-05:00NO, I don't want to help orphan children with rare diseases! When I used to go to the grocery store it went like this:<br />
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"That'll be $135.62." Swipe my card, sign the thing, get a receipt, done. </div>
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Now there's this extra step: </div>
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"That'll be $135.62." Insert card in chip reader (well that's different, but I'm getting used to it), and then, instead of handing me a receipt, the cashier starts judging me:<br />
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"Are you a nice, charitable person who likes to help others or are you a selfless, greedy bi#c$? I mean, I see you can afford five bottles of wine that aren't even from the lowest shelf, they're from the SECOND to lowest which is where the fancy people shop! Oh, and this mac and cheese? You just HAD to get Kraft that's $.80 more? We have a Kroger brand that is just as good, that is, if you're not a mac and cheese SNOB."<br />
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I know. It catches me off guard too. Oh, the shame!<br />
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What they really say is something like, "Would you like to donate a dollar to the Salvation Army to help people have blankets this winter?" Or "Would you like to make a donation to breast cancer research?"<br />
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I did say yes for awhile. Cause it IS just a dollar. But I've grown tired of it. And now that I am saying "no" it sounds really mean.<br />
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Cashier: "Would you like to donate a dollar to help find a cure for juvenile diabetes?"<br />
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Me: "No, thank you."<br />
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So now he thinks I don't care about the kids with diabetes, or the breast cancer victims or the cold people on the streets! And that's not fair. Because I DO care. He doesn't know how much I give to organizations. He doesn't know how much food I donate to the community pantry. He doesn't know we have not one, but TWO, of those Save the Children kids! He doesn't know that I have donated my children's bodies to diabetes research! For all he knows, I could be out there every morning serving food to the homeless. (I mean, I'm not, but that's not the point!)<br />
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Since I started saying no, most cashiers don't say anything; I can just feel the tension of judgement in the air after I say it.<br />
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But then, someone did say something. At Jiffy Lube. Yes, even at Jiffy Lube they hit you up! Nowhere is safe.<br />
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"Would you like to give a donation so that kids with muscular dystrophy can go to camp?"<br />
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"No, thank you."<br />
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"Really? You're the first person today to say no."<br />
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Oh. No. She. Didn't.<br />
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"You know, I'm just getting a little tired of always being asked to make a donation every time I buy something. I actually already give a lot to charity."<br />
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She said, "Well the other people probably gave because of this coupon book you get if you give $3."<br />
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Um, she didn't tell ME about the coupon book! (Just for the record, the coupon book would not have swayed me but STILL, she doesn't know that!)<br />
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I am DONE with these grocery store/drug store/oil change place donation requests. But still the issue remains: How can I say no without looking like a total b*t#h?<br />
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A friend gave me a great response: "Not today."<br />
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I love it. It doesn't cut as hard as "no" or even "no, thank you." So from now on, that is what I will say--well, maybe not to the homeless pets. Who can say no (or "not today") to them?<br />
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Writinggalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13883289316526114805noreply@blogger.com2