Written by my mama, circa 1975 (I think-Mom, correct me if I'm wrong).
THE DOG, THE PLANTS, AND THE STUFF IN THE FRIDGE
Most of us have heard the age-old tale…
About the tied down housewife with her kids and her male.
This may sound different but family ties don’t bother me,
If all I had to worry with were humans – why, I’d be free.
There’s the dog - - she’s cute and smart, but she has caused some woes,
All that digging in the yard, then the kids leave the gate open and away she goes.
So I run the 50-yard dash to catch her much to the neighbor’s amaze,
And in addition to all this, she’s due for puppies in just a few days.
You want to hear about the houseplants? There’s some in every room.
I never have to buy them, they’re gifts from all occasions from July to June.
Plants are sunning in every window blocking out the fresh air,
They’re so pretty – I’d be a mean one if I didn’t give them care.
Now I’ve got a new hobby with this special sour dough stuff,
You keep it in the fridge and use it for baking bread and that’s not enough.
You can make cinnamon rolls and other recipes, it’s really quite good,
But there’s lots of rules, rest it for 3 days, use it in 6, I’m getting in a bad mood.
My husband wants to go on a two-week cruise; save some money, find a place for the kids.
Forget it, I said, it’s not the money or the kids. It’s the dog, the plants and the stuff in the fridge.
I’m not a slave to my house, husband or kids, or even playing a long game of bridge,
I think by now you understand – It’s the dog, the plants and the stuff in the fridge!
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Thursday, December 13, 2007
12 Days Before Christmas
12 Days Before Christmas My Car Contained These Things:
12 Banana Puffs
11 Old Dried Craisins
10 Cheerios
9 Board Books
8 Target Bags
7 Stuffed Animals
6 Sippy Cups
5 Teething Rings!
4 DVDs
3 Baby Socks
2 Pilates Bands
and a Princess Wand from Cousin Stephie
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Intro to my book one day
I was crying on the plane again this weekend. No, I’m not afraid of flying. I was in the middle of one of the best books I’ve ever read and at a part written with such emotion that I couldn’t control it. I’m sure the flight attendant thought that I was leaving someone important behind or that Devon (who was sitting beside me snoring away) had made me upset, but I was just so overcome with emotion by this book. For some reason or another, I always find myself crying on the plane. It’s like my emotions are heightened at such a high altitude.
I fly a lot-usually a couple of times a month. I often bemoan our flight benefits because it seems we are never at home. But I realized something about myself in mid-crying jag this weekend. When I am up in the air, I am so inspired, by literally everything. I listen to the people around me, take notes and plan to write a book about my traveling adventures and all the conversations and people that I eavesdrop on. I read a running magazine and commit in my head to training for a marathon. I write a love poem to Devon and remember back sentimentally to a time would I would cry because I was leaving him in Houston for another 1-2 weeks. I write a retirement song for my dad and plan his retirement party in my head. I see an old lady crocheting and I am determined to take it up too. I tear out recipes from magazines and decide to try one new recipe a week.
In reality, my story ideas will sit in my carry-on bag; I will have to choose between exercising and making a nice dinner and will definitely not have time to make anything with yarn. When we land, real life will take over. But, just for now, 37,000 feet in the air, even though my eyes are red, there is snot running out of my nose and I have mascara running down my face, I am the person that I want to be.
I fly a lot-usually a couple of times a month. I often bemoan our flight benefits because it seems we are never at home. But I realized something about myself in mid-crying jag this weekend. When I am up in the air, I am so inspired, by literally everything. I listen to the people around me, take notes and plan to write a book about my traveling adventures and all the conversations and people that I eavesdrop on. I read a running magazine and commit in my head to training for a marathon. I write a love poem to Devon and remember back sentimentally to a time would I would cry because I was leaving him in Houston for another 1-2 weeks. I write a retirement song for my dad and plan his retirement party in my head. I see an old lady crocheting and I am determined to take it up too. I tear out recipes from magazines and decide to try one new recipe a week.
In reality, my story ideas will sit in my carry-on bag; I will have to choose between exercising and making a nice dinner and will definitely not have time to make anything with yarn. When we land, real life will take over. But, just for now, 37,000 feet in the air, even though my eyes are red, there is snot running out of my nose and I have mascara running down my face, I am the person that I want to be.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Angel Biscuits: A Tribute to my Grandma
Angel Biscuits: A southern specialty-a biscuit made with yeast to make them light and airy.
This weekend I went home to spend some quality time with my family. One of things I wanted to do was have Grandma teach me how to make her signature angel biscuits. Like many women of her generation, my grandmother is a great cook. Of all the things she makes, by far my favorite is her angel biscuits. I recently got the recipe from her and tried to make them myself and they turned out quite flat and rather bland. So, I decided I would spend an afternoon and make the biscuits with her so I could see just where I went wrong. While the biscuits were rising, Grandma and I talked about her childhood and other parts of her life. Some of the stories I had heard before and some were new to me. Not only did I learn a lot about how to make the biscuits, I learned a lot about my grandmother as well.
My grandmother was born in Lee County, Kentucky in 1920. Lee County is in the heart of Appalachia and my grandmother’s family lived out in the country. Her father worked on the railroads and when that work ended he packed up his wife and his three girls and moved to the “big” city of Lexington where he worked on horse farms. Another daughter was born in Lexington, so all in all there were four girls with my grandmother being the oldest.
Her mother, my great grandmother, was known to be a big worrier. She never let her daughters leave the backyard, ride a bike or skate. What she did allow them to do was cook and sew; therefore all the girls were experts in both as they did it since they were very small. However, Grandma told me when they knew their mother wasn’t paying attention, they would sneak out of the backyard. Once my grandmother snuck out of the yard and went skating with friends. Well, she ended up skating down a big hill, falling down and scraping both her knees up pretty bad. There was no hiding this from her mother and Grandma ended up getting a “good whippin’” for that one.
My grandmother was 8 years old when her youngest sister was born and being the oldest of the siblings, she was often in charge of helping her mother take care of the baby. My grandmother recalled one of her jobs was to rock the baby to sleep and being so upset because as soon as she would lay the baby down, it would start crying again. Imagine an 8 year old today taking care of an infant. She says sometimes she would get so mad, she would pinch the baby for crying and that would make her feel better.
Grandma’s mother wouldn’t let her start school until her sister (who was 18 months younger) was old enough to go, because she didn’t want her to stand out on the bus stop by herself. Luckily, her mother had already taught her how to read and write, so Grandma only had to stay in the first grade for one week and then was promoted to the 2nd grade.
On one hand, my grandmother seems to have a lot of respect for her mother. She talked about how she raised 4 girls, did all the cooking and cleaning, had a big garden and was always canning food. She recalled with pride how they would have apples all winter because her mother knew just how to store them. She seemed to be most proud of how her mother could “look at the Sears catalogue and then take the newspaper and draw out the pattern for the dress,” making all of her daughters’ clothes.
On the other hand, her mother was not the warmest parent. When Grandma was 14, her father died and her mother had to go to work. That left my grandmother in charge of the cooking, cleaning and basically raising of her younger sisters. Even though the next oldest was just 18 months younger, Grandma remembers that she had to go in the house right after school and start cooking and cleaning while her sisters were out in the backyard playing. Her mother wanted her to dust everyday and make sure dinner was on the table when she got home from work. Grandma remembered when her mother got home she would often say, “I can’t see a thing you’ve done”. I asked Grandma how she replied to that and she basically said that it hurt and she just took it except for a few words mumbled under her breath. Grandma knew her mother wasn’t the kind of person you could talk back to.
Around this same time, Grandma also helped out in the cafeteria at her school, wiping the lunch tables down and other tasks. The cafeteria staff must have somehow known her cooking talents as once when the cook called in sick, they sent for her (a 14 year old girl) and the home-economics teacher to cook lunch for everyone that day! When Grandma was in the 11th grade, her younger sister broke her leg and Grandma had to stay home and help take care of her. She never ended up going back after that and so she never finished high school until years later - after she was married and had all her children she decided to get her GED.
Her mother was not only a worrier, she was also stern. As my grandmother tells it, one night as a teenager, she went on a date and came home a few minutes late and her mother beat her. It is understood from the way she tells the story that it was not the first time this had happened. Grandma swore to herself that night that it would be the last. Not long after that, at the age of 17, she ran off with a man 10 years her senior and got married and had a son. She then got a job at a laundry, where she made a decent wage. Her husband, who was more of an escape from her mother than someone she loved, was a caddy at the golf course. This was apparently, as my grandmother tells it now, a job for a younger man and not really a respectable or well paying job for someone his age. When he came to her at the laundry and begged her for money for cigarettes, my Grandmother had enough. She told him, “Well, I can take of my baby with the money I earn, but I’m not taking care of you.” And that was that. She went crawling back to her mom, baby in tow. You better believe that her mother didn’t let her live that one down.
When she was still working at the laundry, she met my grandfather. “Shorty” (as he was called), was 5’2” and was quite a likeable character who knew everyone in town. He had moved from Eastern Kentucky to work on a horse farm. He lived at a hotel near a drug store and ate almost every meal there. Grandma would sometimes eat lunch there too and that’s how they met. Eventually, grandma got a job at the drug store working the counter where they served food. Some time passed and they were engaged to be married. Grandma’s sister was also engaged and they planned to have a double wedding, but Shorty got his papers from the armed service that he was being called up, so they had to move the wedding date up. Grandma remembered that once she took the train from Kentucky to visit my grandfather where he was stationed in Texas. Her mother was not pleased that she went off by herself with her son on a train full of soldiers. But, Grandma was determined to see her husband.
Around this time, tuberculosis was in full swing and because my grandmother worked as a cook, she had to be tested for it. They found a shadow on her lung and the same week that my grandfather got his first leave from the service, she had to be taken to a sanatorium. They did get to spend the week together and he dropped her off at the sanatorium on his way out of town. Her mother was against her going to the sanatorium mostly, grandma believed, because she was stuck taking care of Grandma’s son.
After 6 months, Grandma was released from the sanatorium and after he served his time, Grandpa returned home and they started their own family. Grandma and Grandpa had 4 more boys for a total of 5 boys! (My father, was the first born to Grandma and Grandpa.) My grandmother, who had been raised with 3 younger sisters, who was only allowed to cook, clean and sew was now in charge of 5 wild, rough and tumble boys! Because she so hated how restrictive her mother had been, she took the opposite approach at raising her sons. As long as they went to school and were home for dinner, Grandma basically let them play wherever they wanted in the neighborhood. This would upset her mother who would constantly ask her, “Don’t you know where those boys are?”
Sadly, my grandfather died of a heart attack one month before I was born. But I know him from the stories that my dad, grandma and sister tell. Dad says you couldn’t walk with him on the streets downtown without him running into someone he knew and that if he didn’t know someone, he would meet someone. I know that he was a truck driver and at 5’2” had no problem driving the big rigs. I know that he was crazy about my sister and his other grandkids and my dad says if he had ever met me I would have been able to get anything I wanted. More than this though, I believe he was the best thing that ever happened to my grandmother. His good-natured, fun-loving personality was just what my grandmother needed.
Continuing her talent in the kitchen, my grandmother worked as a cafeteria manager at an elementary school for 20 years. I can remember that she would always have the school pizzas that I loved so much in stock in her freezer. Angel biscuits were a main recipe in the elementary school system at that time and all through my school years as well. No telling how many times my grandmother made those biscuits.
My grandmother has led a full life, raised five boys, had many grandchildren and great- grandchildren. She survived a stern mother, a bad marriage, tuberculosis, the death of her husband and breast cancer. At 85, she still lives in her own house and drives to her weekly hair appointment, to the grocery, to visit her sister, and to church and doctor appointments. Recently, coming home from her sister’s house, my grandmother was hit by a drunk driver. Luckily, the only damage was to her car, but it scared her pretty bad. Because the driver didn’t have insurance and Grandma only had liability, she had to pay for the car to get fixed herself. But, Grandma, being the determined woman that she is, sent the driver of the car a note with the bill and stayed on him until he paid her.
I wanted to roll out the biscuit dough and have her watch me and let me know if I was doing it right. Towards the end, she said, “do you want me to finish the rest?” I could tell she was getting impatient with how slow I was going, so I let her have at it. Watching Grandma kneed the dough and cut the biscuits was quite a show. Her hands usually stiffened with arthritis in other tasks, worked magic with the dough. In her hands were a million memories of biscuit making and all the ups and downs of life that went with it. For her mother and younger sisters, for her classmates at school, for her future husband at the drug store, for her five sons, for all of the kids at the school cafeteria, and for me, her granddaughter at every family function - my grandmother had made these biscuits her whole life. And here I thought that I could make them just like her the first time I tried it. No, I’ll need a lot more practice and a lot more memories before my biscuits will be just right. But, I’ll never make those biscuits without thinking about my grandmother and all she experienced in her life.
Grandma’s Angel Biscuit Recipe
1 pkg. Dry yeast
1/4 cup warm water
1 cup Crisco
5 c. flour
1 tsp. Soda
3 tsp. Baking powder
2 tsp salt
2 cups buttermilk
4 T. sugar
Dissolve yeast in warm water (add 1 TB of the sugar to mixture to be sure that yeast works. Sift dry ingredients together. Cut in Crisco until it looks like meal. Add yeast and buttermilk. Roll out and cut biscuits (1/2 "). Place in buttered pan. Cover with damp cloth and let rise until they double in height. Bake at 400 for 20 minutes.
Grandma’s TIP: You can add 1T vinegar to 1 cup milk to make buttermilk.
This weekend I went home to spend some quality time with my family. One of things I wanted to do was have Grandma teach me how to make her signature angel biscuits. Like many women of her generation, my grandmother is a great cook. Of all the things she makes, by far my favorite is her angel biscuits. I recently got the recipe from her and tried to make them myself and they turned out quite flat and rather bland. So, I decided I would spend an afternoon and make the biscuits with her so I could see just where I went wrong. While the biscuits were rising, Grandma and I talked about her childhood and other parts of her life. Some of the stories I had heard before and some were new to me. Not only did I learn a lot about how to make the biscuits, I learned a lot about my grandmother as well.
My grandmother was born in Lee County, Kentucky in 1920. Lee County is in the heart of Appalachia and my grandmother’s family lived out in the country. Her father worked on the railroads and when that work ended he packed up his wife and his three girls and moved to the “big” city of Lexington where he worked on horse farms. Another daughter was born in Lexington, so all in all there were four girls with my grandmother being the oldest.
Her mother, my great grandmother, was known to be a big worrier. She never let her daughters leave the backyard, ride a bike or skate. What she did allow them to do was cook and sew; therefore all the girls were experts in both as they did it since they were very small. However, Grandma told me when they knew their mother wasn’t paying attention, they would sneak out of the backyard. Once my grandmother snuck out of the yard and went skating with friends. Well, she ended up skating down a big hill, falling down and scraping both her knees up pretty bad. There was no hiding this from her mother and Grandma ended up getting a “good whippin’” for that one.
My grandmother was 8 years old when her youngest sister was born and being the oldest of the siblings, she was often in charge of helping her mother take care of the baby. My grandmother recalled one of her jobs was to rock the baby to sleep and being so upset because as soon as she would lay the baby down, it would start crying again. Imagine an 8 year old today taking care of an infant. She says sometimes she would get so mad, she would pinch the baby for crying and that would make her feel better.
Grandma’s mother wouldn’t let her start school until her sister (who was 18 months younger) was old enough to go, because she didn’t want her to stand out on the bus stop by herself. Luckily, her mother had already taught her how to read and write, so Grandma only had to stay in the first grade for one week and then was promoted to the 2nd grade.
On one hand, my grandmother seems to have a lot of respect for her mother. She talked about how she raised 4 girls, did all the cooking and cleaning, had a big garden and was always canning food. She recalled with pride how they would have apples all winter because her mother knew just how to store them. She seemed to be most proud of how her mother could “look at the Sears catalogue and then take the newspaper and draw out the pattern for the dress,” making all of her daughters’ clothes.
On the other hand, her mother was not the warmest parent. When Grandma was 14, her father died and her mother had to go to work. That left my grandmother in charge of the cooking, cleaning and basically raising of her younger sisters. Even though the next oldest was just 18 months younger, Grandma remembers that she had to go in the house right after school and start cooking and cleaning while her sisters were out in the backyard playing. Her mother wanted her to dust everyday and make sure dinner was on the table when she got home from work. Grandma remembered when her mother got home she would often say, “I can’t see a thing you’ve done”. I asked Grandma how she replied to that and she basically said that it hurt and she just took it except for a few words mumbled under her breath. Grandma knew her mother wasn’t the kind of person you could talk back to.
Around this same time, Grandma also helped out in the cafeteria at her school, wiping the lunch tables down and other tasks. The cafeteria staff must have somehow known her cooking talents as once when the cook called in sick, they sent for her (a 14 year old girl) and the home-economics teacher to cook lunch for everyone that day! When Grandma was in the 11th grade, her younger sister broke her leg and Grandma had to stay home and help take care of her. She never ended up going back after that and so she never finished high school until years later - after she was married and had all her children she decided to get her GED.
Her mother was not only a worrier, she was also stern. As my grandmother tells it, one night as a teenager, she went on a date and came home a few minutes late and her mother beat her. It is understood from the way she tells the story that it was not the first time this had happened. Grandma swore to herself that night that it would be the last. Not long after that, at the age of 17, she ran off with a man 10 years her senior and got married and had a son. She then got a job at a laundry, where she made a decent wage. Her husband, who was more of an escape from her mother than someone she loved, was a caddy at the golf course. This was apparently, as my grandmother tells it now, a job for a younger man and not really a respectable or well paying job for someone his age. When he came to her at the laundry and begged her for money for cigarettes, my Grandmother had enough. She told him, “Well, I can take of my baby with the money I earn, but I’m not taking care of you.” And that was that. She went crawling back to her mom, baby in tow. You better believe that her mother didn’t let her live that one down.
When she was still working at the laundry, she met my grandfather. “Shorty” (as he was called), was 5’2” and was quite a likeable character who knew everyone in town. He had moved from Eastern Kentucky to work on a horse farm. He lived at a hotel near a drug store and ate almost every meal there. Grandma would sometimes eat lunch there too and that’s how they met. Eventually, grandma got a job at the drug store working the counter where they served food. Some time passed and they were engaged to be married. Grandma’s sister was also engaged and they planned to have a double wedding, but Shorty got his papers from the armed service that he was being called up, so they had to move the wedding date up. Grandma remembered that once she took the train from Kentucky to visit my grandfather where he was stationed in Texas. Her mother was not pleased that she went off by herself with her son on a train full of soldiers. But, Grandma was determined to see her husband.
Around this time, tuberculosis was in full swing and because my grandmother worked as a cook, she had to be tested for it. They found a shadow on her lung and the same week that my grandfather got his first leave from the service, she had to be taken to a sanatorium. They did get to spend the week together and he dropped her off at the sanatorium on his way out of town. Her mother was against her going to the sanatorium mostly, grandma believed, because she was stuck taking care of Grandma’s son.
After 6 months, Grandma was released from the sanatorium and after he served his time, Grandpa returned home and they started their own family. Grandma and Grandpa had 4 more boys for a total of 5 boys! (My father, was the first born to Grandma and Grandpa.) My grandmother, who had been raised with 3 younger sisters, who was only allowed to cook, clean and sew was now in charge of 5 wild, rough and tumble boys! Because she so hated how restrictive her mother had been, she took the opposite approach at raising her sons. As long as they went to school and were home for dinner, Grandma basically let them play wherever they wanted in the neighborhood. This would upset her mother who would constantly ask her, “Don’t you know where those boys are?”
Sadly, my grandfather died of a heart attack one month before I was born. But I know him from the stories that my dad, grandma and sister tell. Dad says you couldn’t walk with him on the streets downtown without him running into someone he knew and that if he didn’t know someone, he would meet someone. I know that he was a truck driver and at 5’2” had no problem driving the big rigs. I know that he was crazy about my sister and his other grandkids and my dad says if he had ever met me I would have been able to get anything I wanted. More than this though, I believe he was the best thing that ever happened to my grandmother. His good-natured, fun-loving personality was just what my grandmother needed.
Continuing her talent in the kitchen, my grandmother worked as a cafeteria manager at an elementary school for 20 years. I can remember that she would always have the school pizzas that I loved so much in stock in her freezer. Angel biscuits were a main recipe in the elementary school system at that time and all through my school years as well. No telling how many times my grandmother made those biscuits.
My grandmother has led a full life, raised five boys, had many grandchildren and great- grandchildren. She survived a stern mother, a bad marriage, tuberculosis, the death of her husband and breast cancer. At 85, she still lives in her own house and drives to her weekly hair appointment, to the grocery, to visit her sister, and to church and doctor appointments. Recently, coming home from her sister’s house, my grandmother was hit by a drunk driver. Luckily, the only damage was to her car, but it scared her pretty bad. Because the driver didn’t have insurance and Grandma only had liability, she had to pay for the car to get fixed herself. But, Grandma, being the determined woman that she is, sent the driver of the car a note with the bill and stayed on him until he paid her.
I wanted to roll out the biscuit dough and have her watch me and let me know if I was doing it right. Towards the end, she said, “do you want me to finish the rest?” I could tell she was getting impatient with how slow I was going, so I let her have at it. Watching Grandma kneed the dough and cut the biscuits was quite a show. Her hands usually stiffened with arthritis in other tasks, worked magic with the dough. In her hands were a million memories of biscuit making and all the ups and downs of life that went with it. For her mother and younger sisters, for her classmates at school, for her future husband at the drug store, for her five sons, for all of the kids at the school cafeteria, and for me, her granddaughter at every family function - my grandmother had made these biscuits her whole life. And here I thought that I could make them just like her the first time I tried it. No, I’ll need a lot more practice and a lot more memories before my biscuits will be just right. But, I’ll never make those biscuits without thinking about my grandmother and all she experienced in her life.
Grandma’s Angel Biscuit Recipe
1 pkg. Dry yeast
1/4 cup warm water
1 cup Crisco
5 c. flour
1 tsp. Soda
3 tsp. Baking powder
2 tsp salt
2 cups buttermilk
4 T. sugar
Dissolve yeast in warm water (add 1 TB of the sugar to mixture to be sure that yeast works. Sift dry ingredients together. Cut in Crisco until it looks like meal. Add yeast and buttermilk. Roll out and cut biscuits (1/2 "). Place in buttered pan. Cover with damp cloth and let rise until they double in height. Bake at 400 for 20 minutes.
Grandma’s TIP: You can add 1T vinegar to 1 cup milk to make buttermilk.
From my trip with Alisha to LA
6.15.2005
I spent the last few weeks searching for the PERFECT hotel in the Los Angeles/Hollywood area for me and my high maintenance best friend. And by perfect I mean convenient to where we were going (Hollywood) and high-end (see previous sentence on high maintenance) and cheap (aforementioned high maintenance friend is also broke). I scoured all the travel sites…Travelocity, Expedia, Hotwire, Priceline, hotels.com, the specific hotel sites themselves and came up with nothing.
I thought I'd give Priceline one more shot. I selected my area and put in my price and again got nothing. "Did I want to expand my area?" Priceline asks. Ok, so this is where I get screwed. It's just like when you've been shopping forever to find the perfect outfit and then you end up spending more on something you don't even really like because you just need to find something to wear THAT NIGHT!!! Without even really thinking that I hadn't searched around for hotels in downtown LA, I check that I want to expand my area to downtown LA. Thinking back, I had a bad feeling about this move when I did it, but I continued on anyway. Well guess what??? It accepts it and I am now the proud owner of a 2 night stay at the Mayiko Inn in LITTLE TOKYO!!!! Gulp! The good news is that it is quite convenient to where we are going (6 miles away). The bad news is that I am staying at a hotel that caters to Japanese tourists, has a Japanese restaurant (neither me nor my friend are big fans of Asian cuisine) and has a Karaoke bar (think William Hung). Not to mention the fact that I have no idea of the safety or cleanliness of the area.
Naturally, I'm just all upset about this. Not just, "Well that sucks" kind of upset like most people would be, but "calling Priceline crying to the Customer Service Agent because they won't give me a refund" kind of upset. Irrationally upset compared to the seriousness of the situation. I was depressed all day yesterday thinking my two day trip to LA is going to be ruined because of the less than perfect hotel room I got. Then for some reason today at about 3:00 p.m., I decided it's not such a big deal. "It is what it is", I thought to my self. I told the story in the lunchroom and everyone laughed when I said, "Little Tokyo" so at the least it is a funny story to tell people. Then taking this very unimportant matter to an even deeper level of thought, I decided I am what I am. My husband asked me what I learned from this situation. Knowing the answer he wanted is that I would be more careful when using Priceline, I brattingly pouted, "That I'll never use Priceline again because they have poor customer service!"
I AM WHAT I AM and I'm the girl who…
Tries to tackle too much on her lunch break including picking a new car battery for her work horse car and ends up getting battery acid all over the seat of her husband's truck (How was I supposed to know to make sure it didn't turn over)
Takes on the task of paying all the bills and carefully enters all the expenses in a spreadsheet, but uncarefully accidentally pays $8000.00 instead of $80.00 online on her Sprint bill (It was all resolved without any costs to us!)
Has a super terrific day at work writing a terrific report that she had to show to many upper staff members, then gets home and is told by my roommate that her red and white panties are showing through her pants (the pants were tan, why would I think it would show through tan!!!????)
Has a nice, romantic vacation with her new boyfriend in Mexico and then leaves the passports in the taxi (all is well that ends well, right?)
As the maid of honor, is bound and determined not to let her friend the bride get wet on her wedding day so pulls into a tight spot right by the covered walkway and scratches the side of her car up (The bride didn't get rained on, did she?)
And the list goes on….
I am what I am, now if I can only get the nerve to tell my friend where we are staying!
I spent the last few weeks searching for the PERFECT hotel in the Los Angeles/Hollywood area for me and my high maintenance best friend. And by perfect I mean convenient to where we were going (Hollywood) and high-end (see previous sentence on high maintenance) and cheap (aforementioned high maintenance friend is also broke). I scoured all the travel sites…Travelocity, Expedia, Hotwire, Priceline, hotels.com, the specific hotel sites themselves and came up with nothing.
I thought I'd give Priceline one more shot. I selected my area and put in my price and again got nothing. "Did I want to expand my area?" Priceline asks. Ok, so this is where I get screwed. It's just like when you've been shopping forever to find the perfect outfit and then you end up spending more on something you don't even really like because you just need to find something to wear THAT NIGHT!!! Without even really thinking that I hadn't searched around for hotels in downtown LA, I check that I want to expand my area to downtown LA. Thinking back, I had a bad feeling about this move when I did it, but I continued on anyway. Well guess what??? It accepts it and I am now the proud owner of a 2 night stay at the Mayiko Inn in LITTLE TOKYO!!!! Gulp! The good news is that it is quite convenient to where we are going (6 miles away). The bad news is that I am staying at a hotel that caters to Japanese tourists, has a Japanese restaurant (neither me nor my friend are big fans of Asian cuisine) and has a Karaoke bar (think William Hung). Not to mention the fact that I have no idea of the safety or cleanliness of the area.
Naturally, I'm just all upset about this. Not just, "Well that sucks" kind of upset like most people would be, but "calling Priceline crying to the Customer Service Agent because they won't give me a refund" kind of upset. Irrationally upset compared to the seriousness of the situation. I was depressed all day yesterday thinking my two day trip to LA is going to be ruined because of the less than perfect hotel room I got. Then for some reason today at about 3:00 p.m., I decided it's not such a big deal. "It is what it is", I thought to my self. I told the story in the lunchroom and everyone laughed when I said, "Little Tokyo" so at the least it is a funny story to tell people. Then taking this very unimportant matter to an even deeper level of thought, I decided I am what I am. My husband asked me what I learned from this situation. Knowing the answer he wanted is that I would be more careful when using Priceline, I brattingly pouted, "That I'll never use Priceline again because they have poor customer service!"
I AM WHAT I AM and I'm the girl who…
Tries to tackle too much on her lunch break including picking a new car battery for her work horse car and ends up getting battery acid all over the seat of her husband's truck (How was I supposed to know to make sure it didn't turn over)
Takes on the task of paying all the bills and carefully enters all the expenses in a spreadsheet, but uncarefully accidentally pays $8000.00 instead of $80.00 online on her Sprint bill (It was all resolved without any costs to us!)
Has a super terrific day at work writing a terrific report that she had to show to many upper staff members, then gets home and is told by my roommate that her red and white panties are showing through her pants (the pants were tan, why would I think it would show through tan!!!????)
Has a nice, romantic vacation with her new boyfriend in Mexico and then leaves the passports in the taxi (all is well that ends well, right?)
As the maid of honor, is bound and determined not to let her friend the bride get wet on her wedding day so pulls into a tight spot right by the covered walkway and scratches the side of her car up (The bride didn't get rained on, did she?)
And the list goes on….
I am what I am, now if I can only get the nerve to tell my friend where we are staying!
Overdue
On Sunday, I awake at dawn
And find my due date has come and gone
The doctor says to just sit tight
But I can’t even sleep at night
I’m lying here wide awake,
And praying for my water to break
My feet are swollen, my ankles too
My belly button is black and blue
My back is sore, my belly itchy
Perhaps, I am a little bitchy
I’ve tried long walks to no avail
I feel just like a pregnant whale
I’m sure I’ll feel it’s all worthwhile
When I see my little baby smile
But as for now, I must complain
And drive my husband a bit insane
And hope that today is THE DAY
That I’ll finally have Miss Emmy May
And find my due date has come and gone
The doctor says to just sit tight
But I can’t even sleep at night
I’m lying here wide awake,
And praying for my water to break
My feet are swollen, my ankles too
My belly button is black and blue
My back is sore, my belly itchy
Perhaps, I am a little bitchy
I’ve tried long walks to no avail
I feel just like a pregnant whale
I’m sure I’ll feel it’s all worthwhile
When I see my little baby smile
But as for now, I must complain
And drive my husband a bit insane
And hope that today is THE DAY
That I’ll finally have Miss Emmy May
Ode To Kidney Stones
Oh Kidney Stones
Oh Kidney Stones
The Greatest Pain I’ve ever known
You took me to the gates of Hell and
With your passing made me well
My triumphant victory I live to tell
Oh, Kidney Stones
Oh Kidney Stones
The Greatest Pain I’ve ever known
You took me to the gates of Hell and
With your passing made me well
My triumphant victory I live to tell
Oh, Kidney Stones
To My Husband on the First Anniversary of our Marriage….
Sing to me in the morning, a made up song to a well known tune about sleepy heads with my name in it and
I will dance for you in the evening, to the theme song of our favorite television show or a commercial with good music.
Wash me in the shower, when I am too tired to stand, much less shampoo my hair and
I will massage your feet without you asking because I think I am a professional massage therapist.
Tell me that the rolling green hills of Kentucky are the most beautiful site you’ve ever seen and
I will tell you that the mountains in Alberta are majestic and the skies are the bluest blue.
Kiss my pain away when I bump in to the coffee table, car door and desk on a daily basis and
I will be your official wallet and shoe finder, clothes packer, card writer and kool-aid maker.
Smile and be patient with me when I lose things, get chocolate all over myself at the airport or overpay a bill by $5000.00 and
I will be the unabashed encourager of your dreams.
Love me for the rest of my life for all that I am and all that I am not
And I will do the same for you and I will do the same for you.
I will dance for you in the evening, to the theme song of our favorite television show or a commercial with good music.
Wash me in the shower, when I am too tired to stand, much less shampoo my hair and
I will massage your feet without you asking because I think I am a professional massage therapist.
Tell me that the rolling green hills of Kentucky are the most beautiful site you’ve ever seen and
I will tell you that the mountains in Alberta are majestic and the skies are the bluest blue.
Kiss my pain away when I bump in to the coffee table, car door and desk on a daily basis and
I will be your official wallet and shoe finder, clothes packer, card writer and kool-aid maker.
Smile and be patient with me when I lose things, get chocolate all over myself at the airport or overpay a bill by $5000.00 and
I will be the unabashed encourager of your dreams.
Love me for the rest of my life for all that I am and all that I am not
And I will do the same for you and I will do the same for you.
Blogging Addict
I'm really just starting this as a place to store all the things I've written in the last few years. They are all over the place on my computer and I want to have them in one location. Plus, some people (my mom and some of my friends) might want to look at it. So, I'm posting a bunch of my old stuff today and hope to add more whenever inspiration strikes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)