I can trace my obsession with organization back to the late 1970s and an infomercial I saw during my grossly unsupervised formative years. It was for a purse called the Ambassador Bag. It was a butt ugly monstrosity of a purse made from the cheapest ozone piercing pleather available at that time. Even as a child of 11 or 12 I can remember thinking to myself, "that is a butt ugly monstrosity of a purse. And I must have it".
You see, the lure of the Ambassador Bag was that it included a whole bunch of accessories that each had its own designated spot inside the purse. No matter what you carried in your purse the Ambassador Bag had the perfect sized cubby for it. I was mesmerized at how perfectly the giant 1978 sunglasses fit into the sunglasses pouch. And how it even included a special wallet with pockets and pouches and credit card slots. Oh, and the mail pouch! Did I mention the mail pouch? I'm sure you can see how that would appeal to any 12 year old. Which, by the way, is equivalent to about a 6 year old by today's standards and rate of maturity.
The one thing that I can still clearly remember to this day, the thing that made me insist on having this glorious bag, was the snap-on key rings. How frustrating is it to lose your keys in the bottom of your purse and have to waste time fishing for them, thereby making yourself late for work or for picking up the kids or for redeeming your almost expired coupons at the Piggly Wiggly? My 12 year old brain imagined that would be pretty awful. My 12 year old brain was also probably slightly autistic (and still is) and was instantly captivated by the sound that snap-on key ring made when the actress in the commercial repeatedly snapped and unsnapped it from the purse. That was the best clicking sound ever and I wanted it for myself.
I remember pleading with my mother to buy me the Ambassador Bag. I made it as simple as possible for her by writing down the toll free number, the price, and I emphasized the fact that she didn't have to send any money. All she'd have to do is pay for the bag and the C.O.D. charges when it arrived. I described the bag in excruciating detail to her, and explained how I would never need another purse again for as long as I lived because this...this was the Ambassador Bag. I don't think I mentioned the clicky key ring thing but I did tell her that Suzanne Somers endorsed the bag so it was probably really good. Suzanne Somers wouldn't be caught dead with an Ambassador Bag but I had an agenda so huge that I had no qualms about throwing Chrissy Snow under a bus.
You see, it wasn't the expense that was the problem. My parents were fairly wealthy at that time and their preferred (and only) way to show love to their children was to buy them stuff. My sister and I had stuff and also had a pretty much constant influx of new stuff all the time. For birthdays and holidays, no matter how obscure, we got stuff. We were rewarded for good behavior and good grades with more stuff. When my parents felt guilty about something, even if it didn't involve us, they bought us stuff. If any kind of family problem came up, my parents just threw money at it until it went away. This was normal for me for a long time.
The problem with the Ambassador Bag wasn't its huge price tag of $14.95 plus shipping and handling and C.O.D. charges. It was the fact that 1) it wasn't my mother's idea and 2) it would require effort on her part. Either of those could be a deal breaker but both together could prove insurmountable. That is why I lied about my beloved Chrissy Snow. I felt sure she would understand if she knew what I was up against.
I don't know which of my arguments did it, but I think it was the money back guarantee since even if you sent the bag back, they let you keep the waterproof cosmetic pouch as a gift. Eventually I was rewarded with my very own vinyl Ambassador Bag adorned with my initials on the front flap. I remember the joy I felt as I put all of the accessories in their designated cubbies. I filled my new wallet with pictures and a little cash. I stuffed my new cosmetic case with my one tube of Bonne Bell bubblegum lip gloss. I used my new ballpoint pen to write names and addresses in my new address book that had its own special cubby too. And I spent an unhealthy amount of time snapping and unsnapping my empty key rings from inside the purse.
I'm not sure that I ever actually carried my Ambassador Bag, I really don't remember. I know I didn't really carry a purse at that time and since I didn't go anywhere but school, I doubt it ever left the house. But having it gave me joy. I loved having a designated, perfectly designed place to store all those important purse items that I didn't yet have. I think that's where my love for organizing started. Not that I'm a super organized person. I talk about organizing a whole lot more than I actually do it. But it gives me joy to talk about it.
And I'm talking about it now because I'm knee deep in actually doing it, which I'll have to cover in another post. It's a nasty process but I'm already feeling a little liberated by purging some unnecessary junk and making what's left look pretty.
And just so you know I didn't invent the Ambassador Bag story, I found the actual commercial on YouTube. I dare you to watch it and not instantly covet that bag. Okay, fine, watching it again was somewhat nauseating and I can't imagine why I ever thought I needed that ugly thing.
Sunday, February 06, 2011
Friday, February 04, 2011
Guiltless Pizza, Small Salad, Slab of Cake
Last night I went out for a birthday dinner with friends Lisa and Kim and my daughter Taylor. We met at Deano's at 7:30 then shortly after that found out that they were closing at 8:00 because of all the bad weather we weren't having.
You might think this was just thoughtful caution on the part of the owners to make sure their employees would get home before the ice storm that we didn't have started. But remember...this is South Louisiana. People will use any excuse they can to go home early and cook gumbo. In fact, Kim's EMT partner who usually drives around in an ambulance saving lives all day long was given the day off today in order to cook gumbo for the entire ambulance station. Actually, I really can't be too critical about that because yesterday they responded to a call where they found a toddler with a fish hook stuck in her eyeball. I think I would need a day off after that too.
I love Deano's, I've never had a bad meal there. Last night I got their guiltless pizza (which is really good, by the way) along with a small spinach salad and their yummy fat free tomato vinaigrette dressing. Then I had a slab of birthday cake for dessert. But that wasn't at Deano's. We were just leisurely enjoying our meal then looked up to notice that we were the only customers left and they were shutting down for the night. We asked the waitress if we were holding them up but she said, "Oh no, not at all!" Then she brought us our checks and asked if I wanted anymore tea because they were about to dump it. When they asked us to lift our feet so they could vacuum under us, we thought it might be best to have birthday cake someplace else.
That's themostly true story of why we got thrown out of Deano's, unlike the vicious lies that Lisa is spreading about how Taylor got us thrown out because she's so loud and disruptive. If you know Taylor you'll find that hilarious.
We decided to head over to Johnston Street Java to have some of the yummy cake that Lisa brought. I don't remember what we were talking about when we got there but it was obviously something really funny because we all walked in laughing (maybe a little too loudly) causing everyone in there to turn around and give us the stink eye. When we noticed the soft, soothing background music and the scattered groups of students trying to study along with random other people with their noses buried in their laptops, we turned the volume down a couple of notches and tried to fit in.
We quietly ordered some warm and delicious beverages and we admired the lovely cake before devouring it. One of my favorite things about Johnston Street Java is that they have coconut syrup for your coffee. Starbucks and CC's don't. That earns them extra points in my book because my favorite coffee beverage is a white chocolate mocha with coconut.
I also like JSJ because when you go over to the little coffee accessory station (whatever that counter is called where they have all the napkins and sugar and stuff) they have real metal knives, forks and spoons instead of plastic ones. I'm not some kind of green Nazi like I wrote about here who strives to maintain a zero waste lifestyle. I'm not even close but don't get me wrong, I'm all about sustainability as long as it doesn't inconvenience me. I just like the metal silverware because it makes me feel special...like they care enough to let me use their good dishes.
When our warm and delicious beverages were ready, I picked them up at the counter and asked the barista if they had any small paper plates that we could use for the birthday cake we brought in. She said no, but she very eagerly gave me a stack of their regular non-disposable plates to use and she encouraged me to help ourselves to the silverware and whatever else we needed. I thought that was really extra cool of her since they sell cupcakes and pastries there but didn't seem to mind at all that we brought our own.
So as not to disturb the other obviously more sophisticated patrons, the four of us huddled over the cake and quietly sang the happy birthday song in a whisper. Then we enjoyed our dessert, visited with each other, and occasionally listened in on the conversation at the next table. That's not as bad as it sounds because they were obviously nursing students who were studying and we couldn't understand any of the words they used anyway. And it wasn't like they knew we were eavesdropping.
A couple of days ago (on my birthday, in fact) I had coffee with a friend at the coffee shop in Barnes & Noble. She's someone I really enjoy visiting with and before I know it, three hours have flown by. Anyway, at some point in the conversation, Jayson called me and for some reason we started talking about Groundhog's Day and Punxsutawney Phil. I told him about a Facebook message I got from a friend who wished me happy birthday and said something like, "It's a big day for you and Phil!" I think I read that message in the morning and was not operating on all four cylinders because all I could think was: me and Dr. Phil have the same birthday?? Then later I realized she was talking about Punxsutawney Phil. Der.
So this random man at a table behind us started laughing and when I hung up the phone he said he couldn't help but overhear my conversation and he wanted to know when Groundhog's Day was. I told him it was that very day, and was also my birthday...at which time two random ladies at the table next to us told me happy birthday and started talking about the movie Groundhog's Day.
I had completely lost control of the conversation. Random Man wanted to discuss the history of Groundhog's Day, followed by the weather and how it was hindering his bus trip to...I forget where...which would be inconvenient for his children because his wife died 3 months ago, blah, blah, blah. What could I do? He played the dead wife card. Nothing trumps the dead wife card. And yes, I did feel very badly for him because God knows that one of my worst nightmares is losing my husband. I was sympathetic and pretended to listen long enough to be polite but not well enough to remember any details.
I did finally manage to resume my conversation with my friend, but from that point on it was obvious that Random Man felt like he was one of us. I refused to make eye contact with him again, lest he be sucked in by my freak magnet's pull, but it didn't do any good. In my peripheral vision I could see him smiling and nodding as my friend and I talked, as if he was just as much a part of the conversation as we were. And like I said, we talked for several hours. And he listened for several hours.
Back to Johnston Street Java. After our cake and visiting and eavesdropping, Taylor and I stopped at Winn Dixie on our way home to get dog food. I was wanting to make a pot of homemade soup so I grabbed a buggy to get the stuff for that. I had no sooner tossed my giant purse into the seat of the buggy when a voice came over the loud speaker and said, "Winn Dixie will be closing in 15 minutes." What the heck??!
You might think this was just thoughtful caution on the part of the owners to make sure their employees would get home before the ice storm that we didn't have started. But remember...this is South Louisiana. People will use any excuse they can to go home early and cook gumbo. In fact, Kim's EMT partner who usually drives around in an ambulance saving lives all day long was given the day off today in order to cook gumbo for the entire ambulance station. Actually, I really can't be too critical about that because yesterday they responded to a call where they found a toddler with a fish hook stuck in her eyeball. I think I would need a day off after that too.
I love Deano's, I've never had a bad meal there. Last night I got their guiltless pizza (which is really good, by the way) along with a small spinach salad and their yummy fat free tomato vinaigrette dressing. Then I had a slab of birthday cake for dessert. But that wasn't at Deano's. We were just leisurely enjoying our meal then looked up to notice that we were the only customers left and they were shutting down for the night. We asked the waitress if we were holding them up but she said, "Oh no, not at all!" Then she brought us our checks and asked if I wanted anymore tea because they were about to dump it. When they asked us to lift our feet so they could vacuum under us, we thought it might be best to have birthday cake someplace else.
That's the
We decided to head over to Johnston Street Java to have some of the yummy cake that Lisa brought. I don't remember what we were talking about when we got there but it was obviously something really funny because we all walked in laughing (maybe a little too loudly) causing everyone in there to turn around and give us the stink eye. When we noticed the soft, soothing background music and the scattered groups of students trying to study along with random other people with their noses buried in their laptops, we turned the volume down a couple of notches and tried to fit in.
We quietly ordered some warm and delicious beverages and we admired the lovely cake before devouring it. One of my favorite things about Johnston Street Java is that they have coconut syrup for your coffee. Starbucks and CC's don't. That earns them extra points in my book because my favorite coffee beverage is a white chocolate mocha with coconut.
I also like JSJ because when you go over to the little coffee accessory station (whatever that counter is called where they have all the napkins and sugar and stuff) they have real metal knives, forks and spoons instead of plastic ones. I'm not some kind of green Nazi like I wrote about here who strives to maintain a zero waste lifestyle. I'm not even close but don't get me wrong, I'm all about sustainability as long as it doesn't inconvenience me. I just like the metal silverware because it makes me feel special...like they care enough to let me use their good dishes.
When our warm and delicious beverages were ready, I picked them up at the counter and asked the barista if they had any small paper plates that we could use for the birthday cake we brought in. She said no, but she very eagerly gave me a stack of their regular non-disposable plates to use and she encouraged me to help ourselves to the silverware and whatever else we needed. I thought that was really extra cool of her since they sell cupcakes and pastries there but didn't seem to mind at all that we brought our own.
So as not to disturb the other obviously more sophisticated patrons, the four of us huddled over the cake and quietly sang the happy birthday song in a whisper. Then we enjoyed our dessert, visited with each other, and occasionally listened in on the conversation at the next table. That's not as bad as it sounds because they were obviously nursing students who were studying and we couldn't understand any of the words they used anyway. And it wasn't like they knew we were eavesdropping.
A couple of days ago (on my birthday, in fact) I had coffee with a friend at the coffee shop in Barnes & Noble. She's someone I really enjoy visiting with and before I know it, three hours have flown by. Anyway, at some point in the conversation, Jayson called me and for some reason we started talking about Groundhog's Day and Punxsutawney Phil. I told him about a Facebook message I got from a friend who wished me happy birthday and said something like, "It's a big day for you and Phil!" I think I read that message in the morning and was not operating on all four cylinders because all I could think was: me and Dr. Phil have the same birthday?? Then later I realized she was talking about Punxsutawney Phil. Der.
So this random man at a table behind us started laughing and when I hung up the phone he said he couldn't help but overhear my conversation and he wanted to know when Groundhog's Day was. I told him it was that very day, and was also my birthday...at which time two random ladies at the table next to us told me happy birthday and started talking about the movie Groundhog's Day.
I had completely lost control of the conversation. Random Man wanted to discuss the history of Groundhog's Day, followed by the weather and how it was hindering his bus trip to...I forget where...which would be inconvenient for his children because his wife died 3 months ago, blah, blah, blah. What could I do? He played the dead wife card. Nothing trumps the dead wife card. And yes, I did feel very badly for him because God knows that one of my worst nightmares is losing my husband. I was sympathetic and pretended to listen long enough to be polite but not well enough to remember any details.
I did finally manage to resume my conversation with my friend, but from that point on it was obvious that Random Man felt like he was one of us. I refused to make eye contact with him again, lest he be sucked in by my freak magnet's pull, but it didn't do any good. In my peripheral vision I could see him smiling and nodding as my friend and I talked, as if he was just as much a part of the conversation as we were. And like I said, we talked for several hours. And he listened for several hours.
Back to Johnston Street Java. After our cake and visiting and eavesdropping, Taylor and I stopped at Winn Dixie on our way home to get dog food. I was wanting to make a pot of homemade soup so I grabbed a buggy to get the stuff for that. I had no sooner tossed my giant purse into the seat of the buggy when a voice came over the loud speaker and said, "Winn Dixie will be closing in 15 minutes." What the heck??!
Monday, January 31, 2011
Drinking Games for Non-Drinkers, Soul Stealing RPGs, and DIY Designer Fashion Accessories
Okay, just one more blog post. Really, I'm going to turn in my computer today. Or maybe early tomorrow morning. Surely one more day won't matter.
I couldn't not tell everyone about the fun I had with some young friends on Saturday night. My birthday is coming up next week...wait...this week? I forget. Anyway, Jayson and I had planned to have my birthday dinner on Friday night since he was leaving to go back to Houston early Saturday. Friday was my last day at work and I had stayed late to make sure all my loose ends were tied up. Around 6:00 I sent Jayson a text message telling him that I would be home in an hour or so, at which time he reminded me that we were supposed to go out to dinner. We decided to postpone until his next trip to town since it was getting late and I was in "the zone" and couldn't be stopped. So basically I forgot my own birthday dinner.
Some of my writing friends, who all happen to be in their early 20s, had planned to go out to dinner on Saturday night and invited me to join them. I love hanging out with them despite the age difference and the fact that we live in very different worlds. I like hanging with people who aren't in my "world". Not that I don't like the people in my world, I do very much. But I think we're missing out if we don't step outside our normal circle of friends to see who else is out there. I get few opportunities to do that so I try to take advantage of them when I can.
We met for dinner at the Longhorn Steakhouse. I'm still on this 'trying to eat healthy' kick but I just can't not get a steak at a steakhouse. I got a small steak but instead of the loaded baked potato that I wanted, I opted for the steamed veggies. I think that canceled out the steak so it's all good. Actually, it was very good. The steak was delicious and cooked just right. Which is to say, it was barely cooked. I like my meat as rare as the health department will let them serve it.
One of the girls ordered a beer with dinner and when the bartender brought it over to our table he looked right at me and tried to hand it to me. I found this absolutely hilarious. Obviously I was the oldest one at the table so I'm sure it looked like I was the mom taking all my kids out to dinner and could probably use a beer. Then we talked about how he could have tried to hand it to the only man in our group, assuming he would be the one to order the beer since girls like girlie drinks...which is obviously not always the case.
After dinner it was decided that we would be going to Pilot's Pub, which I visited for the first time with these same friends not too long ago. It's not someplace I typically hang out since I don't drink (anymore) but I wasn't there to drink, I was there to play darts.
I've never played darts before. I'm not exactly sure how I've avoided it all these years but I've never thrown a dart at a dartboard and was excited to learn how. Well, there's not much to learn really, but I did get some good strategy tips that I'm sure I'll be able to use in the future when I'm hanging out at other bars not drinking.
I found that I can play darts but not particularly well. I can aim well enough to hit the board most of the time, but I can't aim well enough to hit a specific number. We played a game called 301 which was fun but it required entirely too much math.
After darts, we switched to card games. One was called Egyptian Ratscrew and I liked it a lot. It reminded me of speed. I had to have a constant running tutorial because I kept forgetting how many cards followed each face card, but on the other hand I did pretty good at slapping since everyone else's reflexes had been slowed due to alcohol. Note to self: next time put some money on the game.
The other card game we played was a drinking game called Captain Dickhead. I'd never played anything quite like this before. The whole deck of cards is spread out face down in the center of the table and everyone takes turn drawing a card. Depending on the card you draw, different actions are performed, always resulting in a lot of drinking. Since I was drinking water this wasn't a big deal but I did have to pee pretty badly so I though that sort of put us on an even playing field. During the game, you hope to draw an Ace because that makes you Captain Dickhead and you can make up any action you want to that carries through until the end of the game, or until another Captain negates it. I got to be the Captain early on and decided that we all should speak with British accents for the rest of the game. Of course, those who forgot had to take a drink. The only trouble with that one is that once the game ended it was really hard to drop the accent. I was British for pretty much the rest of the weekend.
Egyptian Ratscrew is a game you can play with your family but Captain Dickhead, obviously, is not. You can play darts with your family too, as long as at least one of you can do math. Pilot's Pub also has pool tables but I am a terrible pool player so I'm glad we didn't play that. Just about the only bar game that I'm any good at is foosball but they don't have any foosball tables there. They did have a beer pong table which I thought to be a ludicrous waste of someone's resources. It had little recessed places for the cups and an acrylic cover on the top. Seriously? You really don't need a special table for that game.
I also learned, sort of, about tabletop RPGs (role playing games). One of the girls who was invited to join us couldn't because she was playing one of these. Dungeons and Dragons came out when I was a kid but for some reason my mother declared it Satanic and I wasn't allowed to play it, to know about it, to be friends with anyone who played, to ask about it, or to ever speak its name out loud. That wasn't the weirdest thing she ever did so whatever.
Anyway, I got a short primer on RPGs and I have to say that they are no more clear to me now than before. I understand there are characters and depending on your character there are different qualities you possess, but your real personality may have qualities that your character does not and that can count for something. There may be some kind of dice that you use and there's a table, I presume, since it's a tabletop RPG. I dunno. I think I definitely need to see one of these played so that I can understand. I have no desire to actually play one, and not because I fear it will instantly send my soul straight to hell like my mother told me, but it's something that I don't know anything about therefore is a learning opportunity and I crave those even if what I'm learning isn't exactly of any great value.
Oh, I learned another new thing too. It's a newfangled fashion accessory (or at least new to me) called wrist warmers or arm warmers. If you look in the pictures above you can see that both James and Catherine had on some variation of these. I'm not much of a fashionista since my idea of good fashion is something that fits, is comfortable, and I didn't pay more than $10 for it. After examining Catherine's funky and fun striped wrist warmers, I determined that I could probably make my own.
These are pictures of my fancy Hanes Her Way wrist warmers. I think mine are better than your average retail wrist warmers because mine come with the special "heel" where you can store things like your car keys. You don't get that feature with most wrist warmers. And, of course, the name brand is prominently displayed because when you own designer garments you want to show them off. I grew up during the era of the leg warmer so I know what I'm talking about.
I couldn't not tell everyone about the fun I had with some young friends on Saturday night. My birthday is coming up next week...wait...this week? I forget. Anyway, Jayson and I had planned to have my birthday dinner on Friday night since he was leaving to go back to Houston early Saturday. Friday was my last day at work and I had stayed late to make sure all my loose ends were tied up. Around 6:00 I sent Jayson a text message telling him that I would be home in an hour or so, at which time he reminded me that we were supposed to go out to dinner. We decided to postpone until his next trip to town since it was getting late and I was in "the zone" and couldn't be stopped. So basically I forgot my own birthday dinner.
Some of my writing friends, who all happen to be in their early 20s, had planned to go out to dinner on Saturday night and invited me to join them. I love hanging out with them despite the age difference and the fact that we live in very different worlds. I like hanging with people who aren't in my "world". Not that I don't like the people in my world, I do very much. But I think we're missing out if we don't step outside our normal circle of friends to see who else is out there. I get few opportunities to do that so I try to take advantage of them when I can.
We met for dinner at the Longhorn Steakhouse. I'm still on this 'trying to eat healthy' kick but I just can't not get a steak at a steakhouse. I got a small steak but instead of the loaded baked potato that I wanted, I opted for the steamed veggies. I think that canceled out the steak so it's all good. Actually, it was very good. The steak was delicious and cooked just right. Which is to say, it was barely cooked. I like my meat as rare as the health department will let them serve it.
One of the girls ordered a beer with dinner and when the bartender brought it over to our table he looked right at me and tried to hand it to me. I found this absolutely hilarious. Obviously I was the oldest one at the table so I'm sure it looked like I was the mom taking all my kids out to dinner and could probably use a beer. Then we talked about how he could have tried to hand it to the only man in our group, assuming he would be the one to order the beer since girls like girlie drinks...which is obviously not always the case.
After dinner it was decided that we would be going to Pilot's Pub, which I visited for the first time with these same friends not too long ago. It's not someplace I typically hang out since I don't drink (anymore) but I wasn't there to drink, I was there to play darts.
I've never played darts before. I'm not exactly sure how I've avoided it all these years but I've never thrown a dart at a dartboard and was excited to learn how. Well, there's not much to learn really, but I did get some good strategy tips that I'm sure I'll be able to use in the future when I'm hanging out at other bars not drinking.
I found that I can play darts but not particularly well. I can aim well enough to hit the board most of the time, but I can't aim well enough to hit a specific number. We played a game called 301 which was fun but it required entirely too much math.
After darts, we switched to card games. One was called Egyptian Ratscrew and I liked it a lot. It reminded me of speed. I had to have a constant running tutorial because I kept forgetting how many cards followed each face card, but on the other hand I did pretty good at slapping since everyone else's reflexes had been slowed due to alcohol. Note to self: next time put some money on the game.
 |
| James proving she did not cheek her meds. |
 |
| Angel & James doin' the waterfall. |
 |
| Jerrit & Cat completing the waterfall. |
The other card game we played was a drinking game called Captain Dickhead. I'd never played anything quite like this before. The whole deck of cards is spread out face down in the center of the table and everyone takes turn drawing a card. Depending on the card you draw, different actions are performed, always resulting in a lot of drinking. Since I was drinking water this wasn't a big deal but I did have to pee pretty badly so I though that sort of put us on an even playing field. During the game, you hope to draw an Ace because that makes you Captain Dickhead and you can make up any action you want to that carries through until the end of the game, or until another Captain negates it. I got to be the Captain early on and decided that we all should speak with British accents for the rest of the game. Of course, those who forgot had to take a drink. The only trouble with that one is that once the game ended it was really hard to drop the accent. I was British for pretty much the rest of the weekend.
Egyptian Ratscrew is a game you can play with your family but Captain Dickhead, obviously, is not. You can play darts with your family too, as long as at least one of you can do math. Pilot's Pub also has pool tables but I am a terrible pool player so I'm glad we didn't play that. Just about the only bar game that I'm any good at is foosball but they don't have any foosball tables there. They did have a beer pong table which I thought to be a ludicrous waste of someone's resources. It had little recessed places for the cups and an acrylic cover on the top. Seriously? You really don't need a special table for that game.
I also learned, sort of, about tabletop RPGs (role playing games). One of the girls who was invited to join us couldn't because she was playing one of these. Dungeons and Dragons came out when I was a kid but for some reason my mother declared it Satanic and I wasn't allowed to play it, to know about it, to be friends with anyone who played, to ask about it, or to ever speak its name out loud. That wasn't the weirdest thing she ever did so whatever.
Anyway, I got a short primer on RPGs and I have to say that they are no more clear to me now than before. I understand there are characters and depending on your character there are different qualities you possess, but your real personality may have qualities that your character does not and that can count for something. There may be some kind of dice that you use and there's a table, I presume, since it's a tabletop RPG. I dunno. I think I definitely need to see one of these played so that I can understand. I have no desire to actually play one, and not because I fear it will instantly send my soul straight to hell like my mother told me, but it's something that I don't know anything about therefore is a learning opportunity and I crave those even if what I'm learning isn't exactly of any great value.
Oh, I learned another new thing too. It's a newfangled fashion accessory (or at least new to me) called wrist warmers or arm warmers. If you look in the pictures above you can see that both James and Catherine had on some variation of these. I'm not much of a fashionista since my idea of good fashion is something that fits, is comfortable, and I didn't pay more than $10 for it. After examining Catherine's funky and fun striped wrist warmers, I determined that I could probably make my own.
These are pictures of my fancy Hanes Her Way wrist warmers. I think mine are better than your average retail wrist warmers because mine come with the special "heel" where you can store things like your car keys. You don't get that feature with most wrist warmers. And, of course, the name brand is prominently displayed because when you own designer garments you want to show them off. I grew up during the era of the leg warmer so I know what I'm talking about.
Apples Don't Grow on Trees and How to Raise & Train a Linefish
I thought I'd try to squeeze in one more blog post before I turn in my computer today. I'm on the lookout for a good used MacBook Pro. Jayson and I went to The Orchard last week and determined that a new one is definitely not in our immediate future.
That reminds me of a funny story about The Orchard. A few years ago (2 or 3 maybe) I was over at Lisa's house with a bunch of the college girls from church. One of the girls started talking about her Mac and how it needed repairs and she was frustrated that she'd have to drive all the way to Baton Rouge since there were no Apple stores in Lafayette. I sort of caught the tail end of the conversation but I chimed in and told her that a new Apple store had just opened in Lafayette and it was called The Orchard. Another one of the girls looked at me very sympathetically and sweetly said, "Oh Mrs. Shannon, she means Apple as in the computer, not the fruit." I said, "Um, yeah, that's what I mean too." They had greatly underestimated my geekiness.
Because of my impending move, my job at Trinity Bible Church has come to an end. I don't think it's really sunk in yet. People have been thanking me for the work I've done there over the past 7 years and telling me what a difference I've made and how it won't be the same without me, blah, blah, blah. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate that very much, it just makes me uncomfortable. Compliments are hard for me. I prefer them to be wrapped in a package of good humored sarcasm.
I was having one of these awkward conversations with someone the other day and I thanked them and told them that I am taking away from Trinity a whole lot more than I left there. And that doesn't even include all the office supplies I stole. Well, okay, I didn't actually steal any because I think people who steal things from churches are just asking for a huge heap of bad karma to follow them around for the rest of their lives. I did sort of abscond with 6 file folders because they had some of my person stuff in them. But I also left a whole bunch of my own personal art supplies so I figured it would even out in the wash.
There has been some talk around the office lately about what this blog and my Facebook posts will look like without that sort of automatic filter that comes with being a church employee. I think this is kinda funny especially since most churches would have fired me a long time ago for some of the stuff I say. I am very impressed and amazed that Trinity never tried to filter me, on my personal Facebook or on theirs. Well, okay, one time I posted something that someone felt was inappropriate (and for the record, it so was NOT), but I dutifully removed it even though I didn't agree.
Since I've pretty much been myself all along and haven't held back a whole lot, I don't see any radical changes happening here. Unless I clean it up even more so that I can get a job with another church who might not be so accepting of my spiritual gift of sarcasm. Not that I would deceive them...but they would need time to acclimate to me slowly so as not to go into a state of shock.
It would sort of be like adding a new fish to your aquarium, me being the new fish. You can't just dump it in, you have to introduce it slowly...letting it get used to its surroundings and give the other fish time to adjust to their new addition. Then when you open the baggy and finally let her swim free, you see a joyous time of community for your little aquarium world as you witness how your fish accept the newcomer into the fold as one of their own. And then a couple of months later you discover that what you thought was a harmless little guppy turned out to be a baby lionfish (which for years I thought was linefish because in Texas they're pronounced exactly the same). Anyway, you wake one morning to discover that your new fish has devoured all the other fish in your tank and threatens to sting you with her spiny barbs if you dare to try to remove her from the territory she has claimed as her own.
Wait, what?
That reminds me of a funny story about The Orchard. A few years ago (2 or 3 maybe) I was over at Lisa's house with a bunch of the college girls from church. One of the girls started talking about her Mac and how it needed repairs and she was frustrated that she'd have to drive all the way to Baton Rouge since there were no Apple stores in Lafayette. I sort of caught the tail end of the conversation but I chimed in and told her that a new Apple store had just opened in Lafayette and it was called The Orchard. Another one of the girls looked at me very sympathetically and sweetly said, "Oh Mrs. Shannon, she means Apple as in the computer, not the fruit." I said, "Um, yeah, that's what I mean too." They had greatly underestimated my geekiness.
Because of my impending move, my job at Trinity Bible Church has come to an end. I don't think it's really sunk in yet. People have been thanking me for the work I've done there over the past 7 years and telling me what a difference I've made and how it won't be the same without me, blah, blah, blah. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate that very much, it just makes me uncomfortable. Compliments are hard for me. I prefer them to be wrapped in a package of good humored sarcasm.
I was having one of these awkward conversations with someone the other day and I thanked them and told them that I am taking away from Trinity a whole lot more than I left there. And that doesn't even include all the office supplies I stole. Well, okay, I didn't actually steal any because I think people who steal things from churches are just asking for a huge heap of bad karma to follow them around for the rest of their lives. I did sort of abscond with 6 file folders because they had some of my person stuff in them. But I also left a whole bunch of my own personal art supplies so I figured it would even out in the wash.
There has been some talk around the office lately about what this blog and my Facebook posts will look like without that sort of automatic filter that comes with being a church employee. I think this is kinda funny especially since most churches would have fired me a long time ago for some of the stuff I say. I am very impressed and amazed that Trinity never tried to filter me, on my personal Facebook or on theirs. Well, okay, one time I posted something that someone felt was inappropriate (and for the record, it so was NOT), but I dutifully removed it even though I didn't agree.
Since I've pretty much been myself all along and haven't held back a whole lot, I don't see any radical changes happening here. Unless I clean it up even more so that I can get a job with another church who might not be so accepting of my spiritual gift of sarcasm. Not that I would deceive them...but they would need time to acclimate to me slowly so as not to go into a state of shock.
It would sort of be like adding a new fish to your aquarium, me being the new fish. You can't just dump it in, you have to introduce it slowly...letting it get used to its surroundings and give the other fish time to adjust to their new addition. Then when you open the baggy and finally let her swim free, you see a joyous time of community for your little aquarium world as you witness how your fish accept the newcomer into the fold as one of their own. And then a couple of months later you discover that what you thought was a harmless little guppy turned out to be a baby lionfish (which for years I thought was linefish because in Texas they're pronounced exactly the same). Anyway, you wake one morning to discover that your new fish has devoured all the other fish in your tank and threatens to sting you with her spiny barbs if you dare to try to remove her from the territory she has claimed as her own.
Wait, what?
Saturday, January 29, 2011
My Poor Nozzle
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| A dose of hubris prevention. |
I've included a picture of myself taken first thing in the morning a while back. I can't remember exactly why I took the picture, I think it had something to do with my hair, but there you have it.
Anyway, because of the rosacea I'm supposed to use a mild cleanser on my skin as not to irritate the affected areas. But if I do that, the overall oily condition of my skin makes the other areas feel rough and in desperate need of exfoliation. For that reason, I choose to exfoliate daily, rosacea be damned.
Those of you who have oily skin that is prone to breakouts can surely relate to my appreciation of a nice, course exfoliating scrub that feels like it's scraping off the top layer of skin to reveal the brand new baby soft skin underneath. In fact, I enjoy this so much that I tend to buy the roughest, harshest facial scrub I can find. I could care less about "gentle micro beads", I want to scrub my face with shrapnel. That's the only thing that makes it feels clean.
So...yesterday morning I squeezed into my palm a generous blob of St. Ives Apricot Scrub: Blemish and Blackhead Control formula. It's my favorite cheap shrapnel cleanser. I proceeded to vigorously scrub my face with it, using both hands to spread the shrapnel to my forehead, chin, and cheeks. My hands moved quickly in circular motions then up and down both cheeks until the pinky finger of my left hand accidentally snagged my left nostril. Since I was in vigorous scrub mode, I didn't realize this until I had rammed my finger so far up my nose that the nail hit the base of my brain. Since I was in the midst of scrubbing, I reflexively extracted the wayward pinky, not in the downward direction that I should have, but in a sideways motion that felt like it ripped my nostril wide open.
I rinsed my face, assessed my nostril for damage and found nothing of any significance. But I was reminded of when Taylor was about 2 years old and was learning all the names of her body parts. She was past the nose, ears and belly button stage and we were getting into the more detailed parts such as earlobes, fingernails and nostrils. She had a little trouble pronouncing "nostrils" and called them nozzles. It seemed an appropriate term, really, so we have called them nozzles ever since.
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