Monday, February 28, 2005

You heard it hear:

Can my family get any more cryptic?
I swear, it's like living inside a jigsaw puzzle. -- pantrygirl, responding to an email from family.

The cryptic answer came from my cryptic question, "How are you?"

One hurdle at a time...

It has been little over two weeks since I last spoke to my mother. I never told her that I’d stop until she stopped pitying herself. I never told her I would call her during my normal weekly calls. I just stopped. I had told my brother and his reaction was to do what I needed to do.

I met with him the Monday after New Years to discuss my concerns. Lrudlrick and I laid out the situation simply. We wanted to know what my mother’s plans were for her future. We wanted to know not to mock. We wanted her to know that if she needed help, to let us know so we can plan something. For the last two years, her mental state keeps deteriorating and she’s living more and more in her head. Every time we spoke, she’d tell me she was poor but then two weeks later I’d find out she had flown off to the west coast or Asia. We'd speak and she’d tell me she’s paying what amounts to rent for a small studio in Queens for gas and electric. Then she’d tell me not to call her on Wednesday because she’s going to AC for a few days.

Lrudlrick laid it out simply. My brother is getting serious with a girl and most likely within 5 years may desire to settle down. We’re going on 9 years together and probably will consider children within the next 5 years. Mom hasn’t been working in three years and she seems to be oblivious to her age and what seems like a lack of preparation for retirement.

My brother agreed there was a situation present and that he’d speak to our step dad to let him understand our concerns. Of course our step dad thinks she’s not of the right state to be discussing these things.

Why do I bring this stuff up now? Well, every Sunday, during mass, there is a part in the very beginning where we’re supposed to open ourselves to forgiveness. I can forgive. That’s the easy part. I just can’t subject myself to the hurt that needs forgiving purposely. Every time I pick up that phone and call her I’m allowing her to talk me into loading another bullet into my revolver. How do I get past that? My husband tells me to look at it through her point of view. No amount of Windex could help me construe the haze she has built.

Then I read this article in the NYTimes on Sunday. It was titled, When Mr. Reliable Becomes Mr. Needy. The writer discusses her issues about how her mother, unable to cope with her father’s Alzheimer’s, abandoned him at the last years of his life. Ms. Tanney and her two sisters were left caring for their father who was dying of a degenerative disease. “My father, who always had defended the worst of my mother’s words and deeds, was now dependent upon the one who had depended upon him most.” In one sentence, Katherine Tanney, described my father’s relationship with my mother, the last years of his life. When my dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer, my grandfather died suddenly of an aortic dissection. 6 months later, my grandmother had a stroke.

During the six months between my grandfather’s death and my grandmother’s stroke, I spent most of my time attempting to take care of the small daily things my grandfather did around the house for my grandmom. I helped her sort out the photos and pack away many of his items. I paid the bills and sent updates to my Uncle. After her stroke, I spent the next year going back and forth to the numerous nursing homes and rehabilitation centers she was transferred to hide the loss I felt.

Then my dad became bed ridden. No longer able to make it up the stairs, we moved him down to the first floor and my mother took on the duties of caregiver to him. As the symptoms of dementia were beginning, my father accidentally told me the wrong dosage for his pain killers. I knew something was wrong and called my mother to check the meds list and we made the appropriate changes. I told my mom at that point that I would not be capable of doing this for my dad. I could do what needed to be done to care for grandma. I could help her dress and bathe but I could not watch my dad die. Expecting my mother to completely lose it, she did the opposite. She agreed that I would watch out for my brother and grandmother while she tended to my father. I remember feeling shocked and sort of relieved. I was half expecting her to tell me that she wasn’t able to handle it and leave me. My mother diligently cared for the man she vowed to spend the rest of her life with, in sickness and in health. I made sure my brother went to school and had a semi-normal teenage life. I also visited grandmom and made sure she had what she needed at the home.

Then the morning before my father was to be placed in a hospice, my mother called frantic that I should be home. I arrived and my father was convulsing and struggling to breathe. His eyes were cocked back. I jumped on the bed and took hold of my father’s hand as I massaged his chest. The ambulance came and we were rushed to the hospital. However, I knew the end was near. My father signed a DNR. The convulsions soon stopped and I said my goodbyes holding his hand and putting my head on his chest like I did as a little girl. Friends were called to pick up my brother who was upstate. As I was filling out the necessary paperwork, it happened. Inside that drape clutching my father’s lifeless body, my mom lost it. She sobbed uncontrollably. I remember her screaming in Chinese, “You promised to never leave me. We were getting over this hurdle. Things would be fine. Now what am I supposed to do?”

Most daughters would feel the need to try to take the place of her father to her mother. Instead, I told myself that I couldn’t be my mother’s defender. Why could I try to be my grandmother’s defender but not my mother? Eventually, my mother remarried and she found a man who could defend my mother better than my father could. Now I just hope he doesn’t defend her blindly. All signs point to no so I have hope but I’m afraid I may have to finally say that the best way to defend her is to help her. Shying away from the ugliness of life is not going to make it go away.

I’m not saying I can look through my mother’s eyes. That I don’t believe it will completely happen but I’m slowly wiping the layers away and I suppose that’s a start. I keep up hope.

Saturday, February 26, 2005

Nominee for father of the year....

"Girls don't play baseball. They play softball." -- father to daughter as she admired the baseball displayed in the display case aisle at The Container Store.

Friday, February 25, 2005

Does this mean I'll have to start chewin' tobacci?

Last night, tired of watching the 12 hours of Law & Order and CSI we have Replayed, Lrudlrick came across MXC on SpikeTV. I know we’re slow on the bandwagon here but there really is no need for us to tune to SpikeTV. Note, if a choice had to be made, SpikeTV would probably take precedence over viewing anything on Pax, Lifetime or the Oxygen channels. The description lured him. It read “Cows and Cars.” Why this peaked his interest is beyond me. I am happy that he did check it out though. I spent the next hour and a half watching Japanese people compete in the most ridiculous games imaginable. The footage is from a late 80’s game show from Japan and from what I can gather, there is no prize except the honor one gains for competing. There have been rumors of prize winning but SpikeTV’s version, apparently a dumb down crudely dubbed version of the original show, would not air a winning.

Now, I know it’s crude. I know the show is absolute trash but if you turn the dubbing off and just watch these poor souls working their hardest to accomplish the ridiculous tasks, you’ll be mesmerized. These contestants really hurt themselves for absolutely nothing. In one game, the contestants had to swing on a rope and land on a floating dock. The dock could not have been more than 3 feet in diameter. One guy slammed his body onto the dock with such force that he flipped over and landed in the water. Did I mention his safety helmet was knocked off his head at impact?

Of course, pantrygirl’s sense of humor, being what it is, found this quite humorous and preceded to wear out the 5 second rewind button on the remote. By the second episode aired last night, I was battling to breathe between my fits of crying.

See here, pantrygirl. Weren’t you the one who said, "The slapstick comedy of doors ricocheting back at you is not funny when it actually happens to you." Yes, I did. To my knowledge, I have never participated in any kooky stunts in Asia. I have never slid down a waterslide in a giant foam rice bowl. I have never dressed up like a blueberry and ran down a hill. I have never attempted to run over the tops of foam dominos to make it to the other end of the domino chain. Therefore, it is funny.

I’m not going to lie. I felt guilty watching this program. I felt guilty watching SpikeTV. I felt guilty that I almost pissed myself watching a girl pole vault herself into a wall. However, the hour and a half spent transfixed taught me a valuable lesson on marketing. Actually, Lrudlrick was the one who pointed it out. Commercials geared towards men must have ridiculous situations, explosions and loud noises. Commercials geared towards women have “side effects may include diarrhea, irritable bowels, nausea, discomfort, loss of appetite, increased anxiety, dizziness, constipation, increased appetite, urinary tract infection and/or anal leakage.”

Not once did I see a commercial on SpikeTV telling me that whatever is wrong with me, can be fixed. No models telling me that I’m worth it. No voiceover telling me that not so fresh feeling can be treated. After an hour, I was hungry for Burger King burgers that grow on trees and gasp, started to see the appeal of watching cars circle a track for hours on end. BTW, have you ever noticed that Nascar viewers look like cats transfixed on their feather toy?

To further the evidence that I’m a cold hearted beast of a woman, here is a fake listing someone made of the total number of injuries contestants received during the show’s stint.

All types of anxiety...

I recently changed my personal email address. Since we’ve been toying with getting rid of Road Runner, I figured I may as well join the web hosted email arena. Well, I did the Emily Post thing and sent an email stating the new email information to my friends and family. This brought friends from the woodwork back and I’ve been steadily writing back and giving my, What I’ve been up to, spiel. There is nothing like writing a What-I've-been-up-to spiel to let you know how utterly boring you are. For once, I'd like to write something exciting. "Lrudlrick and I just returned from a lovely holiday in Egypt where by chance we found the Holy Grail. If not for my clumsy ways, we would have never fallen into that trap door in Tutankhamen's tomb. Must go. National Geographic is here for an interview."

My favorite response came from my FIL who immediately contacted my husband wondering why I changed my email address. Was I getting ready to leave him? Now, honestly, if I were to leave my husband, why would I send a forwarding message to my FIL? “Let’s keep in touch. I’ve left your son and I've got a lawyer that will leave him destitute. But I want to still be friends. Call me.” I laughed when my husband told me. I wonder if it's wishful thinking on his part?

This move to a web hosted email is a big step for anal retentive pantrygirl. In my outlook, I still have emails dating back to the late 90’s. Need to reference when I told you about that big handbag sale on the eastside? I can pull it up in less than 5 mins thanks to my filing method. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am the only person who related to Monica from Friends. I live to label. I swear, if my brother found that bumper sticker, he’d give it to me. It would be a close choice between that and Honk, if you love to file.

When The Container Store opened in the city, I could have been a one woman welcoming parade for them. My favorite part of the store, and please don’t call me a dork (This fact I am very well aware of, thank you.) is the mat at the front that says, “Contain Yourself.” It makes me laugh every time. It's The Container Store's disclaimer. Pantrygirl, before you step inside Mecca, breathe. We don’t need you dying in there from eternal happiness. I frequent that store so much, people have asked me for help finding items. I imagine retirement will lead me to a fruitful and fulfilling part-time career at The Container Store. I’ll be wearing a blue container store smock helping young whipper snappers organize their lives.

I have such an affinity for nesting boxes, I’m sure my husband fears, when the time comes, I’ll choose a nesting box coffin to bury myself in.

So baby is on the brain again. My cousin emailed me yesterday. It was one of those, I’m a heel emails. You know. The ones that start with, I’m a heel for not keeping in touch. How are you? Yada Yada. BTW, I’m pregnant.

Well it’s her first and she’s due in May. Guess I’m heading to Babies R Us this weekend. Then my friend called me yesterday afternoon. It was an “I’m-a-heel” call. He asked me when I’m going to realize that work can’t consume my life forever and that I must sustain the human race and spawn. Personally, I’m not sure how well off the human race would be if I spawned. Well, it may be more organized.

At the doctor's, my gynecologist asked if I was ready for prenatals. My co-worker IM's me for advice for an impending baby shower for a male co-worker who is expecting twins. (The wife not him.)

Then finally this morning, another co-worker who has been out on maternity leave came by with her baby. I spent the last half hour holding a baby and hearing my boss say it looks good on me. As if a baby is the new hot fashion accessory. I asked her if she was ready for me to be out for 4 months. She quickly changed her tune.

I know I’ve gotten to a point in life where people are going to start asking me more frequently. I can understand they are trying to make nice. What I don’t understand is how people talk about it so non-chalantly.

I may be freaking out a bit too much. Sure, it’s not like I’d be the first woman to spawn but yikes! Pushing the vanity issues aside, financially a kid is a mortgage you never pay off. Sure you can pay off the interest but the principle is always there. Heck, your first payment is your DNA! DNA, people!

How the heck did our parents do it? Back in the days, people had 4 kids without blinking. Unless I’m living out on a farm in Nebraska, there is no way I would be able to support 4 kids. Back in the days, Grandma or Aunt Lola watched the lump of clay while you went to work. Now, Grandma’s working at The Container Store while you’re paying what amounts to rent to let your kid stay with 20 other kids in a room for 8 hours. Why don’t they just call it what it is, storage.

God, I’m freaking out too much about something that isn’t happening anytime soon to me, if at all. For my sanity’s sake, if you see me, don’t mention babies, eggs, children and/or shelf life. If you slip, I’ll be cordial, but you’ll be re-opening a can of anxiety the likes Woody Allen would envy.

Thursday, February 24, 2005

You park like an idiot, and you smell like one too.

Nice concept but I'd prefer to just post photos on a website instead of shelling out $10+ tax & shipping to slap a bumper sticker on a person's vehicle & run the risk of being sued.

I'm not sure the blurb that you shouldn't slap one of these suckers on another person's property acts as a disclaimer. Reminds me of the whole Where's George? issue of selling a stamp to deface the United States currency.

If you own a pair of EMS boots, they may have special powers.

Forget about the groundhogs. My boots predict the weather, well at least snowfall. Every time I put away my winter boots, a snowstorm arrives in NYC. The weather becomes nice and sunny and I figure, hey, let me put away my snow boots. I stopped putting them away away (in its little boot box home with photo glued to the front.) Yes, I am a sad individual but an organized sad individual. I’ve been leaving them in my coat closet but even in that tight closet it brings about the snow. I’ve noticed though, that if I leave them in the foyer so I can trip on them on a daily basis, the weather gets warmer.

Before you start writing petitions to tell me to leave my snow boots in my entranceway, I have to say this, it ticks me off whenever anything is left by a door. Whether it be a closet door or an entrance door, I hate when bags, coats, shoes or any objects are left to impede the natural space of a door. The slapstick comedy of doors ricocheting back at you is not funny when it actually happens to you. Door knobs have jammed themselves at my ribs and hips. One memorable moment years ago, I recall stars and bluebirds encircled my head.

Once in anger, I slapped my kitchen cabinet pantry door shut. As if the door had feelings and felt rather miffed I was displacing my anger on it, it swung back and slapped me on my forehead. Flap! I remember crying and laughing. I also remember telling myself to never share this with my husband since he’ll tell me I got what I deserved.

So I’m stuck in a dilemma. Do I deal with daily trips, falls and general self-induced klutziness so that winter can finally leave our dear city or do I allow anal retentive pantrygirl to put the boots away and pull out the thermals?

BTW, since I’ve got one working pen left in my office, I have to trudge my way through tonight’s storm to get to Staples. Sure I can use the pink gel pen in my desk I reserve for office cards, but just like college applications (well, at least pre-electronic apps) my signature in pink may not be acceptable at the Dean’s office. But pantrygirl, don’t you guys have supplies? Sure we do. But the supply closet consists of semi used post its, white-outs and mismatched tab files. But pantrygirl, why don’t you get the office manager to order pens for you. I have. Unfortunately, it takes two weeks to get my pen order approved then another week to send the order, process the order and then receive the order. Did I mention the office manager left and a new office manager just started? This adds approximately one week to my wait time. Since my last pen, a uni-ball if anyone is interested, is creeping to the 1/3 line mark, it will not last until St. Patrick’s Day. Pantrygirl, will you get reimbursed? If you mean monetarily, like in some sort of petty cash fund, hells no. I’m not complaining though. Pens are pens. However, I may get all KITH if anyone tries to take Mr. Uni-ball.

Oh, and my whock-a-ta, has subsided but it's now at that crusty dry pink stage. Since it's on my chin, I feel like the whole world is staring at it when they talk to me. I'm not complaining though. Did you hear that oh lord of the Zits. If I have to get one ginormous 3-headed zit every 6 months to make up for the clear skin months, I'll deal. I won't mind being 40 and buying Seabreeze.

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

What makes it organic?

Lrudlrick: What do you mean you have no soda?

Waitress: We are trying to instill a healthy lifestyle. We have an assortment of carbonated organic beverages if you prefer.

Lrudlrick: Ah... No thanks.

...after dinner...

Pantrygirl: What is on your dessert menu?

Waitress: We've got an organic non-dairy strawberry ice cream.

Pantrygirl: Ah... No thanks.

Pantrygirl: whispering How can it be ice cream if there is no dairy?

Lrudlrick: I need a Diet Peach Snapple.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Slalom Racing in Central Park & being grateful I'm not a bag of bones.

This weekend I checked out ‘The Gates’. I saw it at dusk with my husband and found it lackluster. Maybe it was getting dark. Maybe it was the swarms of people in the park with us. We left feeling like we just went through a giant slalom.

I went back on Tuesday after my doctor’s appointment. This time it was noon and the crowds had dissipated. It was actually relaxing. Walking along the path alone, it suddenly dawned on me that this thing is huge. ‘The Gates’ is simply vast. People ask you what you think and all I can say is, “Expansive. Very expansive.” Everywhere you turned it was orange. If the project’s intent was to re-open the eyes to Central Park, then it has. I’ve seen more people climbing rocks and going through small paths this weekend than in any other circumstance. Then again, most of the people I saw at Central Park looked like tourists. So if tourism and giving the IOC the idea cross country skiing could take place in NYC, then hip hip!

I also got my much needed massage this weekend. It was rather nice if not as relaxing as I hoped. The guy was nice. He had that “I’m speaking low, because it’s soothing” voice. Of course, I just find it a little disconcerting. Anyhow, he twisted me and pulled me and pressed me and I felt better the first hour. By the second hour of my relaxation, I was back to tense pantrygirl but without the aches. Maybe he was afraid to knead me too much. If anything, I love extreme pressure. Maybe it was the girl who did my facial during the last hour. Very sweet girl but I thought she burst a vessel on my chin when she did the extraction. In fact, the next day, I had a bump where she tried to dig through to China. By this morning, it’s become this huge boulder. All I need to do is glue on a false lash and I’d look like Witch Hazel.

I’ll tell you one thing, I may be self conscious walking around in the robe at the spa but after I saw these two ladies with chopsticks for legs, my confidence meter shot up two notches. How can you massage bones?

Sunday, February 20, 2005

Sometimes the anal retentiveness yields...

I was going to write a quick peeve of the week but I just saw the most
atrocious news story on NY1.

Apparently a security guard was shot in the chest and left to die on the 18th street platform of the 1 and 9.  When the cops got there, they couldn't get
in to check on him and to get EMS to him because the token booth was closed. 
They had to wait until riders could let them use their metrocards to get in.

The man didn't make it.

I am appalled and cannot believe something like that can happen. 
I'm sick.  I would not want to hear that officers were within 3 feet of me
and couldn't help me. Lrudlrick reminded me how if the one person who had a metrocard had an unlimited, only one officer could have gotten in. The cops would have to hope that several people with cards could get them in. What about the EMS?

My peeve is nothing to this news.  I'm now going to try to put this
tragic news out of my head so I can try to get a good night's rest.

Friday, February 18, 2005

The Quiz-nos sub...

Time for Friday afternoon boredom.

In honor of the 4 scam spams I received at my work email today, it's time for Which Nigerian spam are you?

src="" width="300" height="90"
border="0" alt="You are Susan Gezi.Your father was killed by a planned motor accident. He was the former Zimbabwean Minister for Youth & Gender Equality. You have $22,000,000 to share. You want to assure me this transaction is 100% risk free.">

Grumble. Grumble. Fists in air.

So I walk out of my apartment, happy as a clam. Why shouldn't I be? It’s Friday. I look out the window to see snow. Big fat chunky flakes and they are sticking! I walk directly back in and take off my peep toe pumps and plop on my clunky snow boots. Isn’t snow supposed to give you a heads up that it’s coming?

I’m in my windowless office now. My colleague said that the snow has melted and it’s just bitterly cold out there. Now I’ve only one hat this winter and it’s an ugly hat. It’s a knit hat my mom knit for me. It’s cute but not on me. It’s bigger than my head so it juts out like a helmet. When I put it on, I look like Belker from Hill Street Blues. Seriously. My husband made me growl the other day and not the good growl.

If I weren’t lazy, picky and downright in denial that I need winter gear, I’d go and buy a flippin’ winter hat. Every year, I go through denial. See, winter gear is usually heavy and bulky. I don’t like heavy and bulky. I’m a petite woman. I swear the weight of a bulky jacket and my work bag shortens my height by at least two inches. Add the trauma of years carrying a heavy book bag during my parochial school days and you’ve got one chick who abhors heavy items, unless it’s a gold bar. BTW, a class action suit should be placed against parochial schools. I swear those books kept me from reaching my potential height of 5’6”. This is probably fruitless though, since I’m reminded in the weekly newsletter of the financial belt tightening the Archdiocese of New York must do to stay in the black.

Not to sound all old and rickety either but in my day, there were no fancy pants wheel-able school bags. For the first 3 years of my school-life, I was required to use the school’s official bag, a bowling bag. No lie. This thing was a bowling bag with the school insignia and name on the front. If lugging that thing around didn’t stretch my arms to gorilla-like lengths, I don’t know what did. After 3rd grade, the only outlet you had to show your individuality was your book bag. Mine was a green backpack with a billion lanyards attached to it. Oh, I also had a super-cool Hello Kitty pencil case, the kind that had the magnetic closures and built-in pencil sharpener and eraser.

Nowadays, kids not only get to wheel their books in Spongebob Squarepants luggage they also get to go online to pull up reading material instead of lugging the gym sock smelling American History book home. What the hell is that smell in old textbooks, anyway? It’s like stale paper placed in a cold cellar and then left in a steamy gym locker for a year to age.

No longer do I see kids being let out of school with a boulder strapped to their backs. Now, they run out with book bags that look nearly empty. I'm not even going into the fact that some kids have book bags that look like shoe bags. Ok, the truth is, I rarely see a child come out of school because I’m stuck in my windowless bunker but when I do, they seem rather light and feathery.

When the time comes for us to have kids and they start school, I’m sure that most of their textbooks and materials will come from the net. Workbooks will be printouts. Foreign language homework will include Windows Media clips of conversational Spanish. Phonetics and Handwriting will no longer be on the curriculum.

On an unrelated note, Honey how about naming our kid, Diphthong?

Thursday, February 17, 2005


Yankee Candle's Home Sweet Home smells like Dentyne, the original, not the ice brand.

That concludes today's random thought. Go back to work... or at least pretending like you are.

Is that salsa from New York City?

So PBS is doing another one of those ‘House’ reality programs. This time it’s set in Dubai’s backyard. It’s set in an 1867 Texas Ranch House. You can apply here.
This shall be interesting. I’m not a historian but the black codes were just lifted and although black men had the right to vote by 1867, it was still a turbulent time for African-Americans.

"From 1865 to 1868 white Texans committed over 1,500 acts of violence against blacks; more than 350 blacks were murdered by whites. These were attempts to reestablish white supremacy and to force blacks back into their "place." Only the intervention of Congress and the imposition of military rule in the state after 1867 eliminated the Black Codes and brought a modicum of safety to African Americans. The arrival of military and Congressional efforts to protect black rights ushered in the second phase of Reconstruction in the state. In this period African Americans made a substantial contribution to the transition of Texas from a slave-labor state to one based on free labor."The Handbook of Texas

Personally, it’s fun to see the romanticized ideals of periods long ago get crushed at the stinging reality, toilets and other modern conveniences are not available. That’s what made the other ‘House’ shows fun to watch, if but for a brief episode. I never caught ‘Frontier House’ but I did check out ‘Manor’ and ‘Regency’. I’m not sure what possessed these applicants to try out for these shows. Maybe one too many viewings of Dangerous Liaisons. However, I can tell you right away, the odors my brain conjured up reading the description of ‘Texas Ranch House’ are reminiscent of the odors one might smell on the West 4th street platform during rush hour in July. Mind you, the cattle probably smell the least after a hot day in the sun shoveling manure.

However, I do look forward to seeing the reactions when they find out that T-Bone they just ate was Bessie.

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Brain Freeze: Ice Cream or Mathematical Calculations?

For a person that dislikes math, I sure do a lot of computing in my job. I’ve just spent my entire day multi-tasking validation projects and I am in serious need of a brain reboot. Everything is mashed in my head. I can’t grasp a thought without something from another project popping in and disrupting my train of thought. I’ve bounced back and forth between three major projects and I haven’t even touched my ‘maintenance’ projects. I went to the bathroom and as I was washing my face, I couldn’t focus on my face. My brain was running formulas. Is this an inkling of what the ‘Beautiful Mind’ guy goes through? I even caught myself talking out loud, to myself!

At what point does a brain just shut down? Seriously, my brain is running sluggish now because the processor is overheating.

I had a very lovely Valentine’s Day. My mini chocolate ice cream cakes are a hit. Lrudlrick had one for dinner. So it’s not what I’d consider the best dinner out there but he didn’t complain. Another sign, I’d be a bad mom. What? You want cake for dinner? Sure, have the whole thing. While you’re at it, finish the carvel crunchies and the Haagen-Dazs ice cream in the freezer. There isn’t much left anyhow.

I have two mini-cakes left in the freezer. They haven’t been frosted yet but I can do that tonight. Hubby seems to like his toys. I got him a fog gun and pose able magnetic robot and a Maglite. It’s become this running thing that I get him a flashlight. He has about a dozen but we only know where two of them are. He bought the pose-able robot to work and everyone is asking him where to get it. When it comes to gift giving, I try to get him a ‘cubicle’ toy in addition to a home gift. Lrudlrick probably has more toys at work then most men but then again, I’m probably wrong.

His last gift, a fridge, was a dud. He had this mini fridge before but it died, so I gave him this gi-normous one that can hold a couple of 20 oz sodas. Unfortunately, his office manager busted him and now he’s not allowed to use it. I told him to bring it home so he can have a fridge by his man chair. He’s leaning towards the bedroom. The bedroom thing brings flashbacks of college life. I’m not sure I’m keen on the idea.

We finished the night by watching a half hour of ‘24’ and then promptly passing out. Ok, I promptly passed out. Lrudlrick doesn’t drink and I felt obligated to finish the entire bottle of champagne. I woke up at 4am. I cannot describe to you the thirst I had. If the dog's trough was the only liquid available, I'd be down on my hands and knees sucking it up. I drank two tall glasses of apple cider and I don’t prefer apple cider! I finished ‘24’ last night and now am only one hour behind.

Oh, Lrudlrick’s new phone has that V-Cast network. Apparently, ‘24’ has mobisodes called ’24 conspiracy’. They are quite short and really don’t quench or whet one’s appetite but we have fun squishing our heads together to watch it on the tiny telephone screen. Since downloading these clips are free after 9pm, we patiently wait until 9 to load the latest clips. Sure, we’ve sent the clip before but it just seems more entertaining when you’re watching it on a 2 x 2 inch screen.

You know you have a serious problem when...

you get caught with a fake penis and a bag of urine during your mandatory drug test

On the subject of: Parties & Haircuts for Dolls

If we have a girl, we are not paying for her doll to get a haircut. -- Lrudlrick, after seeing a NY1 segment on haircuts for dolls.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

I work for Sybil.

It’s not her fault really. She’s just doing twenty million things. Talking to my boss is like trying to keep up with a runaway train. If you cut her off mid-sentence, look carefully into her eyes. You can see the derailment take place in her mind. I’ve learned to wait until the train stops to answer. I’ve yet to learn the subtlety needed to determine when I should take the initiative or wait until the lights green.

My mentor suggested I take the imitative but the last time I did that she asked me why I distributed the data without getting an ok from her. (If it didn't take numerous revisions within a three week period, I would have.) Then there are the times when she swears she hasn’t seen the document when I have the copy she wrote her comments on. I’ve learned to keep all her notes regardless if they are on a napkin for CYA purposes.

Today I got balled for not doing something that I had no idea I was doing. As my mentor has said, “She has conversations in her head that haven’t really taken place. You just have to know that it happened.” Brilliant.

Don’t get me wrong, my boss is an extremely intelligent woman. So just has so much swimming in her head. I don’t envy her. As my mentor has said, “If I knew the answer to what she wants, I wouldn’t be here in this office.” I don’t know how confident that makes me with her being my mentor and all.

Monday, February 14, 2005

Typical conversation turns to smut

Lrudlrick: I don't have the tax guys info in my ipaq

Pantrygirl: I never bluetoothed it?

Pantrygirl: sorry

Pantrygirl: i'll do it tonight.

Lrudlrick: Oh baby, you do it tonight.

Pantrygirl: dirty.....

Pantrygirl: ok, i just rubbed lotion on my boss' back

Pantrygirl: and it's not as kinky as you would think it sounds.

Lrudlrick: I keep telling you, I'll set it up.

Pantrygirl: set what up?

Lrudlrick: rubbing lotions and pillow fights.

Lrudlrick: that is what I can set up.

Pantrygirl: dude. i do not want to associate that kind of rubbing with the rubbing i just did to my boss.

Pantyhose are Evil. Evil!

I've only worn this pair for close to three hours and these babies already have two runs. Damn you pantyhose inventor dude! Pantyhose aren't cheap either. Now I have to go change my pantyhose but I'm being stingy about it. Honestly, I have a spare pair in my desk but if I put them on now then I run the risk they run before I get home. I don't have a meeting today so I can happily sit at my desk until it's time to go home. So what if people see me at the bus stop with runs like I'm ten years old.

It's a battle of cheap pantrygirl vs. vanity pantrygirl. Oh man, I'm hungry too. I can run out and grab something at the cafeteria but that means going through the runway portion of the seating area where all they need is a podium, mic and spotlight. I'll probably chicken out and go to the other cafeteria where I can access the back door entrance and quickly grab my chef salad and dash. Geez, I'm vain.

I just don't like pantyhose. I hate runs even more. If I have to I generally lean towards stockings because they tend to be more resilient to runs but today I'm wearing a skirt that would show the garter lines and I don't need to be known as the office Hussy.

Speaking of hussy, Happy Valentine's Day to everyone. I have yet to fill out my hallmark card and will probably be rushing to do so as I ice the mini-cakes I've made for dessert. Lrudlrick bought me a delicious assortment of flowers last night. I placed a bouquet in the dining room and one in the living room. I also took two roses and placed them on my vanity. They definitely made me smile this morning. He also bought me two pairs of shoes, one which I'm wearing right now. Darn run is deflecting from the beauty of these babies. They are slingbacks with a crock skin front. I'd go hose-less but it's frickin' freezing and the world isn’t ready for my pasty white winter skin.

The L&O crew were everywhere and took over the entire street. They brought so much hub bub, the stray dog we see every now and then came out and sat in front of our building and watched the crew at work. P-man seemed quite interested as well. He kept trying to see what was going on. I didn't see any cast members but then again, it was early morning and it looked like they were still doing the technical setup.

The bloody managing agent lost our storage waitlist and now plans to do a lottery for those interested in storage. Of course our property manager hasn't responded to the two calls I left him. I called him again today and the woman on the other line said he's no longer with the company and that they were having a time sorting through his messages and to dos. Great. Hopefully we'll get some storage after this all through. My holiday decorations are slowly consuming our coat closet.

Oh, muthafunga, I didn't want to call you during your romantic getaway this weekend but I just heard a song that has 'pikaso'. DC me to hear the details.

We weren't able to check out 'The Gates' this weekend. We made it downtown but the crowds were too much for us. Well actually, the traffic was too much for us. We were tired and haggard. We brought the car into the city and of course the parking lot lost our car so we stood there waiting and waiting. A banana nut loaf and a triple venti latte later, we finally got our car back which was supposed to be ont he 5th floor but was placed in the basement. I swear I heard C4 scream, "What the hell were you thinking leaving me with those imbeciles!" We're planning to check it out this weekend. Hopefully the long weekend will lead to less crowds.

Finally, omg, Sheryl Crow needs to eat something. Anyone see her outfit at the Grammy’s. Holy crap, I don’t need to see ribs. Maybe it was the way she presented herself. Maybe it was the hideous yellow fabric. Sheryl eat something!

Sunday, February 13, 2005

I found my mom's new car

I tried getting a clear photo of the van but traffic prohibited it.

My mother's new car

Friday, February 11, 2005

I want this for my new ringtone

I'd even be happy with original.

Has Sesame Street released this stuff out on DVD yet?

It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again...

In the third year of Cyrus king of Persia . . . 'I, Daniel, mourned for three weeks. I ate no choice food; no meat or wine touched my lips; and I used no lotions at all until the three weeks were over' -- Daniel 10:1-3

I could have sworn that meat abstaining was no longer mandatory so I googled it. This led to the verse from Daniel which led me to realize that I probably could give up meat more easily than lotion. Heck, whenever asked what I'd take with me on a deserted island, lotion is in the top two.

BTW, I still don't have a final word on the obligation of meatless Fridays. Personally, I don't think it should be an obligation. I know plenty of people who abstain from cow but hunker down on lobster fra diavolo.

Boulevard of Broken Love Power

This is an open letter to Lrudlrick:

Please oh please finish this video clip. I'm dying to see what you come up with. Everytime I see Green Day's video I wonder when you'll finish the Love Power edit. Get on it Mister. I'll even make extra parfaits.

I'm talking 'bout love power...The power of a little flower...

Signs of aging: Since when did cheetos and OJ seem like a bad idea?

Last night I had an alien in my belly. Between my back spasms and the cramps, I swore up and down that I was Robin from 'V'.

Lrudlrick: What did you eat?

pantrygirl: I don’t know. Besides the leftover night dinner, I had half a bottle of red wine.

Lrudlrick: ok.

pantrygirl: Some linzer cookies, an orange, some pretzel goldfish, two glasses of chocolate milk

Lrudlrick: Oh, baby. It was the chocolate milk.

pantrygirl: and an ice cream sandwich.

Lrudlrick: Oh man. It was the dairy.

pantrygirl: I’ve had dairy before. I ate that entire cheesecake that time.

Lrudlrick: Yeah but that’s part milk. Milk is full milk.

pantrygirl: oy.

For those wondering, leftover night dinner is when I take everything that has been lurking in my fridge and reheat it. This happens maybe once every two weeks. Rarely does anything every make it to leftover night so it’s not as bad as you think. It’s not like I’ve got chicken in there that is over three days old. Most stuff gets eaten before the saran wrap comes out.

However, for this particular leftover meal, there was a hodge podge of Chinese New Year eats, mashed potatoes and beef and broccoli. So it’s entirely possible that leftover night and the massive quantities of junk food I ate afterwards could be the major culprit of alien baby. Don’t ask why I ate such an odd assortment of foods. I blame the wine.

So I spent the night with pillows strategically placed around my body so that my back was comfortable yet stomach was able to attain a fetal-like position that seems to make all stomach pains feel better.

I’ve already scheduled two massages and if I could afford it, I’d have them come to my office but alas, I must wait until next weekend for much needed comfort.

Oh, apparently Law & Order will be filming in our building again. We’re not sure which L&O. Lrudlrick hopes it’s the original so that he can catch Dennis Farina. I’m hoping it’s SVU with Oz-man or Ice-T. But it’s all wishful thinking because I’m sure we’ll be at work while they do the filming. At most, we’ll get to see the crew strike up the set and take our parking spots.

You know, all I need to happen is for my MIL to see the building in a scene where there is some gang fight or death or overdose. Our weekly call consisted of her fear for us living in the city. She swears it’s safer in the suburbs. I mentioned that in the suburbs, the nearest neighbor wouldn’t find my rotting corpse until the weather got warmer. She laughed. Then I mentioned that in the suburbs, my life expectancy probably would drop due to undue stress of a 2-3 hour daily commute. She asked me why we didn’t quit our jobs and find a more laid back job in the ‘burbs’. She’s obsessed with the ‘burbs’. Her idea of retiring is moving to Saugerties. Personally, I’m happy in Manhattan. I’ve lived 20 or so years in a suburb-like setting. I’ve endured being sent onto the roof to clean the gutters or retrieve lost balls. I’m quite comfortable calling the super to fix the leaky pipe and the convenience of walking down the block for Ben & Jerry’s at 1 in the morning.

I’ll leave you with a strange dream I had last night. I was leisurely getting ready for work when I went into the bathroom and found the tub was overflowing. Now, I didn’t find this weird nor did I find the bathtub being moved to the center of the bathroom so as to look like a peninsula strange either. In fact, it was raised off the ground and had a small step made of tile around the entire tub. Anyway, I shut off the water and called Lrudlrick who grabbed some towels and started soaking up the water. It was a massive amount and it didn’t seem to be shrinking. We kept grabbing whatever we could find nearby to soak up the mess. During the mop up we were quite calm and talking casually. I reached over to grab some loose clothes on the floor when I spotted a small striped sock. It was a green, blue and yellow striped baby sock and I laughed at how tiny it was. Lrudlrick, expressionless continued to wring out a towel. I joked about putting it on the P-man and he told me to stop joking and help him finish the clean up. Then it dawned on me that it wasn’t our apartment. The layout was similar but this house was not our house. The walls had 8 ½ x 11 pieces of paper taped to the wall. Each paper had an odd holographic image on it. I tried making out what the images were but was thwarted each time by our dogs. Whatever the holograms were though, it made me feel like they were looking at me. Then I opened my eyes and found three pair of eyes staring at me. Apparently, I finally got a taste of what Punxsutawney Phil gets every February 2nd.

Thursday, February 10, 2005

Random eavesdropping

"How can you be freaking out about ordering Chinese food? You're asian." -- Colleague to Chinese not Chinese co-worker.

CnC:"I'm on a diet. I don't eat fried foods until the weekend."

pantrygirl:"So you eat anything you want that isn't fried during the week and then eat fried foods on the weekend?"


Opus Dei:"Does that work?"

CnC:"No, cause I eat enough fried foods on Saturday and Sunday to make up for the lack of during the week."

pantrygirl:"Ok. Good luck with that. Should be a NYT best seller."

Next on CourtTV, Man sues fetus for squatting

What the hell is wrong with people?

Woman sues 7 year old

Aren't there enough frivolous lawsuits out there already? Greedy.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Happy New Year! We're all going to die!

What I would do for two midgets to stand on my back. My back is so achy. I came back from a deliriously long meeting, the kind that makes you feel like a full day has passed. Just typing to you I cracked my back.
So I believe I’ve met a Chinese girl that is more un-Chinese than I. I wished her a Happy New Year and she looked at me like I had two heads. I explained it was Chinese New Years to which she replied, “Oh, since I’m never home, I don’t really celebrate it.” “So your mom doesn’t obligate you to return home before the new year?” I inquired. “Nope.” “Whoa.” I was speechless. I wind up running like a nut to pick up oranges and sweets to go to a forced dinner where I sit and blink at my mother. I leave with a bag full of food that I don’t eat but must have in my house before the New Year to only dispose of it as soon as I realize the stench from my fridge is from the chicken with the head and tail still attached. This girl comes in wearing head to toe black and acts like it’s any other day.

BTW, today is a bit awkward for me. I’m a walking contradiction. I’m wearing red, like a good Chinese girl would do. I brought sweets into the office like I’m supposed to yet I’ve got ashes on my head and I’m fasting. I’m supposed to be joyous for the new year but reflective of my mortality. If my mother knew she’d probably go into another sullen stupor.

Talking about awkward moments, I just spent three hours in a roomful of colleagues feeling like Hester Prynne. Usually I have one or two people in the room with the same predicament but today I was not only the youngest member by a landslide but also the only gentile. During the introductions I pictured myself saying, “Hi. My name is pantrygirl and for the purposes of today’s meeting, I represent the gentile youth ministry division of the Dean’s office but heck, you already know that.” I spent the rest of the meeting with my hair looking like Harry Potter's.

It’s always tough to be the youngest looking in a room, especially if you represent a department that has the final say on the project. Talk about internal conflicts. I’ve got the Chinese in me saying respect your elders and the worker me saying this man’s proposal is ridiculous and will never pass legal. My favorite is when they turn to me for my opinion. Holy cow, my elders would never ask my opinion even when it came to my wellbeing. I’m just supposed to respect there decision and realize, elders know best.

My brother asked me to go grocery shopping with him tonight for his cabin getaway with his girlfriend. Of course it has to be Stew Leonard’s. It’s Ash Wednesday. I’m supposed to fast and I’m throwing myself head first into the one supermarket where every turn leads you to another sample table. Oh, and Lrudlrick wants Mrs. Leonard’s meatloaf for dinner. Tonight will be fun. [BTW, since fasting consitutes solid foods, can I drink copious amounts of wine to help sustain myself?]

Holy cow, before I forget, my co-worker just told me that she’s in Opus Dei. I’m not sure how devout she is but aren’t they secretive about this sort of thing? I’m sure the descriptions in DaVinci are exaggerated. [BTW, for everyone out there for the last time, the book is a book of fiction. Fiction! Stop thinking it’s some divine revelation or a blasphemous look into the Catholic religion. It’s a frickin’ novel. Get over it.] I just don’t know enough about them to form an opinion. What I do know makes me believe they are like lobbyists. Enough said.

For those who have been asking me about my thoughts on ‘24', sadly I have to say that I’m behind in my episode viewing. It’s saved and whenever I open the replay menu it stares me in the face like a nagging wife but I just haven’t had a chance to sit and watch. Hopefully this weekend I can catch up. Oh and for you Law and Order fans, Det. Mike Logan is back.

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Damn you hormones!

Why do people send you photos of their kids? It’s to continue the circle of life. They don’t send you the photo of the kid screaming or crying or spitting up. They don’t send you the photo of them crying, pleading, screaming or just looking haggard. They send you the cute one. They send you the picture before the melee, the picture where the outfit has yet been soiled. The kid is sitting upright and looking at the camera with the inquisitive look of an empty brain seeking something to do.

My cousin had her first kid 6 months ago and ever since, I’ve received reams of photos. The latest set includes bathtime fun, holiday with Santa and her propped up next to a stuffed Monkey. This is the 6 month old set of photos, the time when the kid begins to look like a dumpy human being not a massive pile of goo. She’s cooing and flirting and smiling and it just makes my womb ache. Frickin’ procreation people.

I sent one of the 40 to my husband to try to explain the womb thing and his response was, “Big headed baby makes your womb ache? I don’t get it.” That’s right. Men don’t get it. Men see baby and think, “Hey, that things going to ruin one of the most prized possessions a woman has.” Women look at baby and see gooey, sweet-smelling love in a tiny package. Hence my husband’s response had “big headed” and my girlfriend’s response had “adorable” and “cute”.

Childless couples live happy existences. We're living our life. We're going to the movies, eating out, buying the newest gadget. We're living our life without a the stress of dependents. [Dogs and cats are dependents to many couples. True dogs and cats need the basics in life but for the most part, we're not pulling out second mortgages to finance their higher education.] Then along comes the couple with a kid and they want you to join in on the fun. "When are you having kids?" My current response to those seeking a timeline for babydom includes the likes of Ed McMahon or Yolanda Vega announcing my end to financial burdens.

For the last few weeks I've been thinking about a life with or without children and bam, my uncle sends me 40 photos of the most adorable baby this side of the Mississipi. I swear kid people know when kidless people are at their weakest.

Pavlov would love me.

My hair has decided to turn all Anne of Green Gables on me. It’s frizzy and makes that nasty looking halo around my head. I know I am in desperate need of a haircut but I’m just too lazy to schedule one. When the weather is nice, I’ll take a day off and make a day outing of it.

Lrudlrick bought a new phone this weekend. His phone died so he bought a new phone with video and camera capabilities. He was so excited to test it out he didn’t mind going with me to the supermarket on Sunday. We blocked the entire entrance to aisle 3A taking photos of each other. Actually, Lrudlrick was taking the photos. I was trying to pick what type of rice to buy. BTW, according to the photos Lrudlrick snapped, I tilt my head when I’m weighing options. I look like a golden retriever sans floppy ears.

The first face to face encounter with my mother after the phone call was last night. She seemed out of it and on the defense. Well it was more of defensive/defeatist Weeble wobble. She was defensive with my brother and defeatist with me. Lrudlrick noted two things that I didn’t think of:
  • Since she’s making it personal, I have to use the same psychology on her. I have to use my mother’s ubiquitous phrase, “I feel …” This irks me so but he has a point.

  • Her childhood effects her interaction with others, including her children. Most of her youth was spent being taken care of by paid help. It was common back in the Old World to spend more time with a stranger than a parent. Her father was in the New World establishing money and a home for them to come to and her mother was out visiting friends and relatives. Thus your relationships are going to be skewed.

  • I’m not expecting my mother to change. I just get so angry when she martyrs herself. Tonight, my brother is coming over for a chat about mom. Hopefully I can get another side to this craziness.

    Monday, February 07, 2005

    Mondays with Crazies...

    pantrygirl: What is that phrase again? 6 dozen of one, an eighth of a dozen?

    Lrudlrick: 6 of one, half a dozen of another. What you said doesn’t even make sense.

    pantrygirl: exactly.

    Muthafunga: I thought it was 6 in the hand, half a dozen in another.

    Lrudlrick: You’re mixing two. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

    pantrygirl: 3 gallon jugs. 5 gallon jugs. I don’t get it. I just don’t get it.

    Muthafunga: snakes…

    The Great Cookie Crumble of 2004

    By now, you've read about the teen girls that were sued by a neighbor for apx $3000. If not, in a nutshell, the girls thought delivering anonymous cookies to neighbors would brighten their day. Unfortunately, one of these neighbors claims she suffered an anxiety attack and sued them for medical costs and cost of new motion sensor lights for her porch.

    The latest news is one of parent's placed a restraining order on the husband of the plantiff.

    Here are some observations that get my goat:
  • 10:30pm is a bit late for a doorbell dash.

  • 15 years ago! You think cookies left on your doorstep are related to a crime that happened 15 years ago! Were you assaulted with a cookie?

  • The girls were willing to pay your medical bills and wrote you a letter of apology. What did you hope to get out of them from court? The new lighting fixtures?

  • Girls, next time avoid the town loners/crazies/meanies. We know you mean well but let's avoid these situations in the future. In my childhood neighborhood, we knew who the crazies were and steered clear of their houses. We're known to cross the street to avoid walking on their path (unless we were dared of course).

  • Holy crap, when I first heard about this, everyone said you were old. You are not old. You are 49 years old! That is not old in my book. That is not old enough to be allowed the privilege of being crotchety and paranoid.
  • If you like Pina Coladas...

    Rupert Holmes is dumbstruck.

    Sunday, February 06, 2005

    What I would have watched last night during my bout of insomnia...

    Animal Planet's Puppy Bowl

    I accidently ran across this and I must say, it is one of the most entertaining things to watch. By halftime and half a dozen beers or so later, I'm sure it gets even better. Don't forget to vote for the Most Valuable Puppy.

    Friday, February 04, 2005

    When I read this, I thought of my grandmother.

    78 year old Chinese Woman scales wall to get to 5th floor apartment

    Ok, it happening in Beijing also rules her out but she's still pretty spritely for a 90+ year old and I can totally picture her doing something like this. :-D

    Mind you, this lady would have probably made it if not for the air conditioning unit. Go Grandma! If there is a Senior Olympics, this woman should definitely qualify.

    Thursday, February 03, 2005

    Flashbacks to my Dream Machine in High School...

    Our new phone came in yesterday. Sadly, I cracked open the manual and read it cover to cover and then read it again until I passed out. We’ve let it charge the pre-requisite 6 hours and now just need to splice the line so we can hide the adapter cord behind the bookcase. Yes, I am that much of a compulsive freak that I have my husband splicing wires to avoid unsightly wires dangling from the bookcases.

    The extra handset has a base with an alarm clock & am/fm radio which I used for the first time this morning. The buzzer went off and my morning soundtrack was Herman’s Hermit’s, I’m into Something Good.

    Wednesday, February 02, 2005

    Pick up line of the week:

    If you have a dragon on your underpants you will be protected.

    FYI, 7.5 stones = 105 pounds

    Holy cow. Liz Hurley needs an intervention. How can eating one meal a day (probably a green salad) sustain a body?

    BTW, I swear 5 lbs of her total body weight or in her boobs. Those things are gi-normous for her frame.

    Staten Island Chuck. Punxsutawney Phil and Bill Murray.

    If I were a groundhog, I’d stay in bed and forget the fanfare and rowdy crowds forming around my house and just sleep in. Yesterday’s 6:30am wake up led to a 8:30 wake up today. If I had the energy, I would have threw my alarm out the window but alas, I didn’t have the physical dexterity to get up and shut the noisy thing off. I stayed in bed for at least 10 minutes listening to it chirp at me until I mustered the energy to literally fling myself forward to turn the darn thing off.

    You know why Phil always predicts more winter? Because he's crabby. How would you like it if hundreds of noisy people, some with flashbulbs and video cameras, drag your butt out of bed? Notice Phil and Chuck are male. There is no way a woman would go out there sans morning makeup. Just leave the damn groundhogs alone. All they want to do is sleep. If a hundred people surrounded my bed and woke my butt up to look out the window, I'd frickin' curse them out and hobble back into my bed while it was still warm. Poor Phil can’t curse and can only be thankful this is a once a year ordeal. People, let’s leave the poor animal alone.

    Tuesday, February 01, 2005

    To the person that found my glove and left it on the water fountain...

    Thank you.

    I thought that I'd lost my glove forever. I didn't have time to double back this morning and completely forgot about my lost soul until I was running to the bus stop. On top of the broken water fountain, there she was, my black leather glove with rabbit fur lining. Nearly 12 hours since I lost her and no one took it; although who would take just one glove?

    Anyway, thank you to whoever you are. Her partner also thanks you.

    New Phones, Tiny Laptops and in desperate need of a facial

    So with everything going on between my mom and me, I’ve been reluctant to call her to schedule the massage I wanted to do next week. Lrudlrick gave me this great gift certificate but of course I haven’t used it and it’s about to expire. I’d use it all for myself but I thought I’d be kind and share it.

    So I thought a birthday/New Year/return from vacation massage would do my mom good. After the phone call from hell, I’m reluctant to call her. It’s not like I’d schedule a couple’s massage (ill). I just don’t think I’m ready to be alone with my mother, even if it’s a car ride, for such a prolonged period of time. I don’t have the patience right now.

    I finally bought a new phone. It is expandable so I can finally have a phone in the bedroom. Apparently, this phone can do everything including core an apple. It has a silent visual ring, it has intercom capabilities, voice mail, handset speakerphone, talking caller id “Phone call from….....Blocked Call.” and the expandable unit has an am/fm clock radio/alarm doodad. Now, I have no excuse to get up and turn off the alarm. Lrudlrick should be happy.

    Our current alarm has two separate alarm settings. He swears I should remember this but I can never remember which alarm is mine so I always set the wrong alarm and wind up running around like a nut trying to get out of the house. My rebuttal is he should see that his alarm is set incorrectly and assume my alarm is incorrect and set my alarm to the time stated on his alarm. Mind you, we’ve had this alarm clock since 1996 and I’ve been running late ever since.

    I’ve been contemplating a new phone since Thanksgiving when our current phone decided that even though it’s on the cradle, it would not charge unless the prongs are just so. Yesterday was the motivator, Lrudlrick ran to pick up the phone and the battery spontaneously popped out of the handset. Pop! I’m taking it as a sign this phone wants to rest in peace.

    Meanwhile, my laptop has taken on the prong trait of our phone and now will only stay charged if the adapter is wrapped around the table leg. At first I thought this was a adapter issue. I’ve gone through many a laptops and adapters but when I tried using Lrudlrick’s prong the battery meter popped up. [Stop laughing. You’ve got a dirty mind.] Lrudlrick wants me to buy a new laptop but I’m just too cheap right now to do so. He just received his tiny Pekingese model and I can either use his old laptop or gasp, use the server pc.

    I don’t think Lrudlrick understands my reluctance to upgrade my laptop.

    Words to Live by

    Today is a gift. What are you going to do with it?

    Related tags:

    An open letter to the early birds:

    Holy cow! There are hundreds of you. Do you not realize that if you parse yourselves out, the morning commute would be that much easier? Today, I had a scheduled meeting at the ungodly hour of 8am. I thought 20 mins to get to my meeting destination was appropriate. Boy was I wrong. Convoys of yellow school buses littered the streets. Kids and adults waddled cross the street without any consideration for the street lights. City buses docked themselves on the grid causing major gridlock. I finally got to my meeting destination and hobbled my way in. I had to endure the 3 hour meeting without my morning cup of Joe! Did I mention there was slide presentation too! Dim lights at an early morning meeting should be banned!