What do you think of me?

This week I had an interesting insight. One that not everyone will have the chance to experience.--I learned what a perfect stranger's first impression of me is.

I was doing some last minute Christmas shopping when I decided to head over to Game Stop to pick up a game my son requested for Christmas. I didn't plan to get him anymore gifts, but I discovered that the clothes to fun stuff ratio was a bit off.

Anyway, I walked into the store, and, surprisingly, I was the only customer in the store. The very friendly clerk asked me how I was doing, and asked if I was looking for anything specific. And this is where it happened....I asked if Overlord Hellraiser was an actual game, or if it was a "coming soon" game. The man's eyes widened, and he did a visible double take. Then he proceeded to fall over the counter laughing, as he explained, "I did NOT expect that to come out of your mouth." I laughed right along with him, and said, "Let me start over. Can I get the Lego game, please." Apparently, I don't look like the hell raiser type. I would have to agree with him. I don't think I ever thought those words would come out of my mouth either.

But, I got the game, and a good laugh. How many times, this close to Christmas, do you not only get what your looking for, but have a good time joking with a store worker while getting it.

Ella

My mommy heart has been broken

I guess I can't really say "mommy heart", but my "mom heart" has been broken.

My husband and I were wandering the aisles of our local Wal Mart recently looking for Christmas ideas for our son. At one point we walk over to the games section to look for games that we might add to our collection. After looking at the myriad of games that are available to the masses now we settle on a card game, Politically Correct War, that we can use as a stocking stuffer.

Here is where the crime occurs: We are walking out of the toy section when I look up and realize we are in the action figure section. Then it happens. All of a sudden I am overwhelmed with the thought that we are NOT looking for any gifts for our son in this section. For the first time since he was 2 I am not buying one actual toy for my son for Christmas. I wouldn't have even been in this aisle if it weren't for the fact that it was located at one end of the the games section. My son is growing up. We will no longer have Christmasses filled with a want of Power Rangers, Bionicles, Pokemon, or other various commercially driven fads for boys. Little did I know that the World of Warcraft figures I bought last year would be the end of an era.

Our Christmasses now will be filled with ipods, itunes, video games and clothes. We are leaving the toy age, and we are now fully immersed in the electronic age. Before long we will be buying him kitchen gadgets and bed linens for his own first place. My little boy, is not a little boy anymore.

As I write this, though, I am reminded that although my son is taller and stronger than me, he is still a boy. A goofy, fun loving child that is currently making faces and making annoying "singing" sounds in the chair next to me. I guess I won't be getting out the Rogaine for him yet.


Ella

Send in the Men With the White Coats

While the stock market is down, I can tell you a sure fire investment....what ever company makes straight jackets. 'cuz after this next week at work they are going to come after me. My boss has me working 7, yes 7 days in a row. I know there are people who do this on a regular basis, but not me. I have no desire to. I decided to get this job, so I wouldn't be bored and depressed sitting on my hands at home.

I went from a part time employee to full time fairly quickly less than 6 months. In the retail world that is saying something because if there is one thing they like less than, say, shoplifters, it's giving benefits to their employees.

Anyway, as I was saying, invest in the straight jacket industry. I usually do pretty well until about day 4, and then, I am ready to tie up the next person who tries to convince me that the sales ad was deliberately written in such a way as to convince someone to come in and spend their life savings on soup. And not just any soup, but soup they don't like because the soup they like was excluded from the ad. Let me just save you the trouble of speculating. YES, it IS a conspiracy! If you buy up all the yucky soup, we know you will be back to buy more soup next week because the "powers that be" bugged your home, and purposely only put the soup you hate on sale, and because you can't say no to a good deal they have you right where they want you. Spending money on soup you don't like this week, and coming back next week for what you really wanted in the first place.---See, straight jackets I tell you, straight jackets.

Breakfast with the President-Dodged the Bullet

I had breakfast with the president last week, and despite all of my nervousness it went very well. They should change it to "Mini Town Hall Meeting With the President" as the breakfast portion of the meeting was more of an afterthought.

First let me say that this the first time I have actually met and spoken to the president of our company, and I must say I was impressed. This is actually a very intelligent man, and he definitely has a passion for the business.

I arrived at the meeting place almost an hour early since I didn't know what to expect for traffic, so I had all that time to get my nerves in a tight little ball. I don't like change. I like routine. I am perfectly happy to go to work and do the same thing over and over. The more routine, the better. I walked into the room, and there was a sort of a "round table" set up. While we were chitchatting I mentioned my gag order to the assistant. That was when I found out I was sitting to one chair away from where the president was going to sit. I knew I sat in the wrong chair. Now I am going to have to talk.

The meeting went very well, and he was very informative. He shared information with us on how the company was changing and growing, and he asked for our input and questions. I even managed to speak around the lump in my throat, and I didn't sound ridiculous, I think.

Best of all, afterwards I went back to work, and it wasn't to pick up my last paycheck. (Insert cheers from boss here.)

Little Things That Make Me Happy Part I

This entry would be subtitled, "Hooray for medical advances!" This week I went in for my..used to be yearly, but now will be every six months..bloodtest. I hate needles. I hate them with a passion, and having a lab tech jiggle a needle in my arm while they change out vials..not exactly on my top ten list, so imagine my joy at this exchange:

Blood sucking vampire lady: "Please look over the label, make sure everything is correct, and initial on the line."

Me: *looks at label, initials, and looks up* "Is that the only one?" Inside I am thinking, "Because I'm not coming here again for at least 6 months. I don't care what they say."

Blood sucking vampire lady: "Yes, that's it."

Me: "Are you sure? Because usually I have 4 vials taken."

Blood sucking vampire lady (turned angel): "Oh, we are doing about 30 tests on this one vial. We have better testing now."


Cool! Only one vial instead of 4. I was in and out in a matter of a minute, AND.... I got a Snoopy bandaid!

Breakfast with the President

So, next week I am supposed to have breakfast with the president, not of the United States, though, I asked. This is a breakfast with the president of the company I work for. They want one person from each store that is articulate, smart, and full of ideas. Apparently everyone else said no, and I am going.

I was chosen to go my store manager (Who insists I was her first choice. I have a great boss, she knows how to work flattery). When my direct manager found out there was immediate panic.

1st of all I am a bookkeeper, not only am I a bookkeeper, but I am the head bookkeeper.

2nd of all I have ideas. Ideas that are not so "home office friendly". I don't feel that home office supports the store the way they should, and I feel that many of the people there have been away from store level too long, and have forgotten what it is like to actually be the ones that are face to face with the customer on a daily basis.

3rd of all she wants me as her bookkeeper, and she is "afraid" that if I express my ideas she will be short 1 head bookkeeper.

Because of this, I have been issued a gag order. I can go to the breakfast, but I am not to speak. I am to go eat and come back to work.....still employed, not to pick up my last paycheck. I really don't know what she is so worried about. Unlike my husband, I went to tact school. I have ideas that don't include me getting fired. Some of my ideas have even been implemented in our store. I can share those ideas, right? I wonder how enforceable this gag order is.

Now, all I need to do is decide which ideas I should bring up if I am actually given the chance. Who knows, maybe I can make a change.

Some days you should just stay in bed

This was my day on Thursday. I should have never left my bed. My bed tried to tell me that by making me oversleep by 20 minutes--which I never do. Did I listen, no! I rushed my through my shower to get back on track.

My work clothes tried to tell me that when I couldn't find my pants. I looked on my dresser where I thought I laid them out. I tore apart my bed in case I really laid them out on my bed instead of my dresser, not there. I looked under my bed. I don't know why I even bothered, but you know they may have sprouted legs and walked there. I stood there, and wondered how well it would go over at work if I called in "pantsless", and then I decided to check downstairs. There they were on the table, where I thought I put my bag for physical therapy. I must have been tired because while the pants were where the bag was supposed to be the bag was where the pants were supposed to be. Anyway, did I listen to my lost pants? No!

Then I went to work. It was alllll down hill from there, and as you can tell, I wasn't very high on that hill to begin with. I never made it to physical therapy since I was supposed to be there at 4, and I didn't manage to leave work until after 5... More than an hour and a half after I was supposed to leave.

I finally listened when I made it home, though. My son wanted to go out to dinner, but I KNOW what would have happened, and let's just say I would be typing this from my hospital bed after being in, and probably causing a 20 car pile up. Gees, we're lucky the roof didn't fall in.

Good thing you start with a clean slate after a good 8, er....6 hours of sleep, or I may have never made it through the weekend.

Worry Wart

This term pretty much sums me up. I can worry about anything and everything. I worry about things most people don't even notice. I mean really, I will make a to do list, and start over because my handwriting didn't stay consistant or I decided to use dots instead of dashes for bullets. Who cares??!! Besides me, I mean.

That is what makes the following one of my favorite biblical passages. I know when I am worrying too much because these verses will pop into my head without fail.



Matthew 6:25-34



"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? "And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

Remote Controls

This post could also be entitled “When I was young I had to walk 5 miles to school, naked, in the snow, uphill, both ways.” Or “We are so spoiled”.

Last week our television remote started acting all wonky. We would be happily watching a show, get the urge to see what else was on, change the volume or fast forward through a commercial, and suddenly the remote would not work. The little red light on the remote would blink, but no blinking was occurring on the DVR unit itself.

Ok, this has happened before. We just need to change the batteries—or not. We changed the batteries, and it worked for a few uses, and then it would stop again. So we started taking the battery out of the remote every other time we touched a button. Annoying, but workable for a while. And then it happened. I was joyfully watching my taped episode of Project Runway when a commercial came on. Of course I hit fast forward, and waited for the episode to restart. Then I hit play. Still fast forwarding. I hit play again. Still no response. Then I decided to press stop. It is still on fast forward. Now I am concerned, and trying to figure out how to do this with my eyes closed, so I won’t know who was auf’d before I see the episode. I get to 10 minutes left in the episode when it finally occurs to me to walk over to the DVR and turn the thing off by hand. Why did it take so long? Because we are spoiled, spoiled, spoiled. Not only do we not have to “suffer” through commercials any more, but we don’t even have to move from our chairs while not “suffering”.

When I was growing up my brother and I were the remote controls. My dad would suddenly decide to see what was on, and my brother or I would be planted next to the television while my dad said “flip it, flip it, flip it.” The time each channel was actually on the tv was about 2 seconds. We would usually go though the “entire” line up of channels several times before settling on one. At least until the next commercial. Fortunately, the entire line up was probably only 20 channels or so. All this manual channel changing may have had something to do with the fact that I didn’t watch much television growing up. (Not really, I just wasn’t all that interested.)

My son just doesn’t know the torture he missed out on. In fact, I think if I tried that with him he would just look at me like I had 2 heads and walk off. I think I should try it some time just to get his reaction. Hmm. Now that I think about it, I wonder what my dad’s true motivation was. He never really watched much television.
By the way, we have a new remote courtesy of Cox. Thanks Cox.

The Biggest Complainers are the Worst Culprits

Everyone is complaining about prices—gas prices, car prices, grocery prices, and grocery prices and grocery prices…. While gas prices are helping to drive up the grocery prices, an ongoing problem is shoplifters.

It seems the same people who complain the loudest about the prices are the same people who are pushing them up. We pay for our food, and while we are at it we also pay for theirs with the higher prices caused by the fact they think they are better than the rest of us, so we just need to let them take what they want.

Yes, I’m talking to you .. lady with the slim fast hidden in the bag of rice cakes you exchanged, and you…man who just walked out with steaks stuffed down your pants, and you…over there in the corner snacking on the Jelly Bellies. You don’t get to have a snack while you shop. You haven’t paid for that!! If you want a sample, just ask! Then you won’t be stealing. Oh, and let’s not forget the guy getting a bag of chicken wings, eating them and leaving the bones in the bathroom. GROSS!!

These people are the same people who go through the lines, and complain to the cashiers about the prices—as if they can change it. It makes the cashiers uncomfortable, and basically makes for a very awkward moment. Cut them some slack. They can’t do anything about it, and if you are one of these folks, look in the mirror before you complain about prices.

Introducing Me the Future Olympian

Well, I have decided to jump on the blog bandwagon. A little late, I know, but I needed to make sure this blog thing was actually going to stick around, you know.

Ok, not really. I just tend to mull things over a while before I do anything. See, if I didn't then I wouldn't have a mundane life.

So, a little about us. I am an Air Force wife of 18 years. We have one 15 year old son, a cat and a dog. The son, the cat and the dog rule the roost--not necessarily in that order. Truth be told it should be the cat, the son and then the dog. Ok, no, it should be the cat, the son, my husband and I, the neighbors, the crickets, the spiders,.....and waaay down the list would be the dog. Poor dog.

We tend to be homebodies. We do work and school full time and then we stay home. At least we did. That is all going to change because now we all have new bikes. Ok, M (my pun-infested husband) and B (my 15 turning 28 year old son) have new bikes. Mine is on order, 'cuz I am short, but not short enough for what the bike store had in.

So, back to the bikes. The bikes are the fault of the Olympics. We were politely minding our own business watching the beginning of the women's bike race when I hear "...49 year old...." 49!! This on the heals of the 41 year old swimmer!! Are you kidding me?! I'm 36, and I have one foot in the grave already, just ask me, I'll complain about all my ailments for you. So, I hear about the 49 year old and immediately call upstairs to M. Hey this lady is 49, and in the olympics. If I start now I can be in the olympics. All my high school dreams can still come true...Let's go to the bike store. 2 hours, 1 bike, 1 layaway and $1800 later we are on our way to a fitter us. Oh, and be sure to watch for the 40 year old unknown in the 2012 summer olympics.