Wildly Accurate

I'm not into the whole zodiac thing.  If I have an aura, it's probably neon.  I don't believe rocks can heal people, but I love geology, and I think that if someone believes something hard enough, it can have a profound effect upon their lives, for good or ill.  The brain is a very strange thing, and it's capable of accomplishing more for you than a book of spells or a geode from the lost mines of Peru.

Every now and then, though, I run across one of these Capricorn memes, and for the most part, they're wildly accurate. Especially number one and two for this one.  I've never liked negative or critical people.  If it's serving a purpose or helping someone improve, then sure.  But.  If you're the type of person that just complains, all the time, because you've got your mud-colored glasses on, then I will distance myself from you without apologies.

Number 2 is something that I find incredibly annoying.  I've met a few people like this.  I've even been related to one at one point.  People who think they are all that and then some, people who just know that if the world would only wake up, it would bow down and kiss their feet.  I've got news for you, if you're one of these people:  The world doesn't owe you jack.  Why does this kind of behavior annoy me so much?  I guess it has to do with the sense of entitlement.  The notion that these people have that they are owed some sort of recognition or admiration, when they did nothing to earn it in the first place.  Oh.  You think you should have that just because of who you are?  Well, I think I should have a mini-Cooper and a kitchen remodel because I'm cute and I deserve it, but I don't see either one of those things here.

The other reason it annoys me is because it's not real. People can get caught up in thinking too much about what they think they should have, whether it's respect, recognition, love, or a new motorcycle, and allow that to shroud reality.  When you focus on what you think you're owed and bemoan the fact that you don't have those things, you're not really paying attention to what actually exists.  And that can be a very dangerous thing.

I Just Wanted a Gallon of Milk

When my two oldest kids were really small, people mistook them for twins.  They looked like twins and they acted like twins.  I thought I had it rough, dragging them to the store and trying to negotiate them and the mounds of food that I (thought we) needed. Sometimes, we even had to have two carts.  It was insane.  

I've learned that simplicity is a beautiful word.  I cannot count the number of times I have gone to the store with kids in tow (and it doesn't matter the age...this happens no matter which kid, or which combination of children, are with me), because I just wanted a gallon of milk, and ended up bringing half the store home with me.  Then I get home and lug all of that stuff into the house and set it on the counter and I think, how did a gallon of milk turn into this?

Perhaps it's because I lack the ability to say "no".  Or perhaps it's just easier to say "yes" (yeah, I know, I'm splitting hairs, whatevs).  Maybe it's because when my teenage son shows up at the cart with a bag of chips and another bag of Reese's minis, my scheming brain starts plotting all the ways I can bum a snack off of him (I'm your mother, I carried you for almost nine months, I bought it anyway, or the ever famous and iron clad Because I Said So.) 

One may ask, 

Why do I need to go there?  Why do I need to buy all this stuff?  Have we got a bag of popcorn?  A frozen pizza?  Is there water coming out of the kitchen sink?  What is this trip even for?

I'll tell you what it's for.  I don't go to the store because we need a ton of groceries anymore. I go to the store because I need to get out of the house.  I don't have a couple of almost-twins sitting in a buggy laden with goodies anymore, but sometimes, around ten at night or so (when the kids are usually in bed and no one will clamor to go with me), I feel the sudden urge to leave the house because we desperately need Q-tips.  

Then I come home with my chocolate bar and my copy of Psychology Today or Southern Living and everyone is happy because mama is.  The end.

Not Quite Dead

So, today is one of those days.  Yeah.  You know what I'm talking about.  And you know when it happens and you think, oh.  Oh no.  It's happening.  I can't stop it.  It's THAT KIND OF DAY.  I can't compare it to anything.  Maybe a load of smelly laundry that's been ignored too long, so you just have to deal with it.  Or something else unpleasant.

It started with a three year old and an eleven year old both waking up at six am in the flippin' morning on the dot on a day when I didn't have to get up at six am in the flippin' morning.  One wanted to be held (the eleven year old) and one wanted to watch tv.  The answers were yes and no.  The three year old got mad, gave me her "go to hell" look, and crashed on the couch and fell back asleep.  So, after I was FULLY AWAKE the child that actually needed to be watched went back to bed.  And yes, it is a go to hell look.  When she's mad at someone, she looks at them like they're a bug stuck on the bottom of her shoe.

Then the tree trimmers came.  The tree trimmers came because we had a tree that got struck by lightning a few months ago.  The tree died, and has been threatening to crush our neighbor's truck ever since.  So, they came.  I left to go to the bank so I could pay the tree trimmers.  While I was there, I got a phone call from my daughter. The connection wasn't that great, so all I heard was:

"iuojoweihrweh  scared ihhafadofha loud crash oiudaeneiwkrwoh window uihohewrh,, glass everywhere!"

I went home as soon as possible.  On the way there I laughed.  I laughed when I was on the phone with my daughter and I laughed when I saw the window and my son looked at me like I was crazy.

"WHY are you LAUGHING?"

Because the other choice is to do the opposite.  Get angry.  Cry.  Whatever.  It's not worth it.

You have to laugh at the ridiculousness of certain situations so that they don't take over your life and make you depressed.  We've repaired broken windows before.  We've been there and done that and now we will do it again.

Attitude is everything.  I've learned this, and it's true...but I sure hope by the end of this day I'm not "mostly dead" ;)

Thought for the Day

The ability to say "I ain't even mad" and roll with the punches is a gift and skill acquired through long years of adversity, emotional turmoil, and multiple conversations with the King of the Universe.  Eating a lot of chocolate also helps.

Play the hand you're dealt.

"Come what may, and love it" -Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin, Quorum of the Twelve Apostles

Truth.

Not on my Bucket List

  

Has everyone read about this incident at Marcy's Diner in Portland, Maine?  A couple came there to eat with their 2 year old, who proceeded to cry for half an hour.  The owner of Marcy's Diner, Darla Neugebauer, snapped and yelled at the kid.  When the parents complained about this woman screaming at their kid, they received a profanity-laced invective from her instead of an apology.

I had a lot of thoughts about this incident. Should the parents have taken their screaming child out of the restaurant when it was apparent the child was not going to calm down?  Yes.  We have a three year old.  We also have a child that is prone to verbal outbursts and we try to be extra-sensitive to people around us in public places who may be trying to enjoy a meal, or a church service, or what have you.  

Was Ms. Neugebauer's behavior appropriate?  No.  Everyone is applauding this woman.  Her diner is seeing more patronage now than it has in ages.  Everyone is congratulating this woman on the fact that she managed to yell at a two year old, because no one likes other people's annoying, screaming children.  And I'm standing here looking at all of them thinking, are you nuts?  Why are you happy that this woman, who can't seem to manage communicating without dropping a plethora of f-bombs, yelled at a child? Because you don't like screaming children either, and someone finally took a stand?  Well, congratulations.  This is certainly going to solve the problem of annoying children in restaurants.  By definition, a person who harasses or intimidates someone smaller or younger than themselves is a bully.

Of course, it IS her restaurant.  She can behave like that if she wants.  And she has sent the message loud and clear to families everywhere:  You are not welcome in this establishment.  If you have young children, beware.  The owner lacks the skills necessary to deal with situations like this that arise, and cannot communicate in a professional manner.  

Portland is a big city.  There are plenty of other places to grab a bite to eat.

Drastic Measures

Sometimes, in order to save your sanity and rescue your own poor, exhausted heart, you have to realize that there are certain things you cannot allow or accept anymore, and that there are certain other things that most definitely need to change for good.

Sunday Thought

There are words, and then there are actions.

And the latter always  tells the truth, even if the former sounds beautiful.

Quote of the Day

"You're supposed to be sitting on the potty.  Instead, you're rubbing conditioner on your butt."

Baby soft skin, man.  The secret's out.

Potty training.  What I did for my summer vacation.

We Interrupt This Program

Yeah, I know I wasn't going to write anything until September, but this is my blog and I can break the rules if I want.  You know it had to be something important, right, for me to come out of the cave where I'm hiding from the Texas sun and actually write here, right?

Well, here it is.  During the summer, I read a lot for fun, because it's nice to have a break from textbooks.  So, two of the books I've read have been of the horror/suspense genre.

And I'm so irritated.

Listen, I'll tell you a secret.  My favorite thing to write is the dark stuff.  I don't know why.  But I love writing spooky, suspenseful, turn your hair white kind of stories.  And I'm annoyed by the chum bucket of so-called "horror" that is gracing the shelves these days.

Now, lest you think I'm dissing Stephen King, or one of the other great horror heavyweights, I'm not. But, here's what's annoying:  cliches. Cliches are not scary, unless you're talented enough to pull it off. Here are some examples of some cliches:  scary, evil little ghost girl in a white dress.  Non verbal autistic savant with a psychic ability that manifests at just the right moment.  Chainsaws.  Hatchets. Clowns (unless they're hiding in a sewer or drain).  Young lovers who venture into a deserted campsite that's eerily silent.  That sort of thing.

What I've learned from reading is that really, really great horror writers play on our deepest fears.  A loss of control.  A phobia.  Losing a loved one.  Losing one's sanity.  Being tormented by someone or something that won't stop.  Things that seem right, but just aren't.  And the other thing I've learned is that in writing this type of fiction, less is more.  Using the reader's imagination to fill in gaps is one thing that Stephen King excels at...because what you can imagine is so much more horrifying than what anyone could put on paper.  One of my favorite scenes in his book "Salem's Lot" comes when a vampire carries a teenager into a graveyard.  He doesn't tell us what happens after that.  He just writes "It became unspeakable."  And chills went down my spine after that.  What?  What became unspeakable?  What happened?  What did he do?  Unanswered questions that spark all kinds of ghoulish nonsense in your brain.

One day I hope to successful in this genre...or one close to it.  Until then, I'm avoiding the chum bucket.