I figured that I better write this entry now because my next door neighbor doesn’t know about my blog yet. Our front lawn includes about two feet of grass that is their property. Since the beginning of home ownership, there have been lawn wars with them because if they mow that strip when they mow their lawn, our lawn looks all unkempt, even if my husband just mowed the day before. He has offered to be responsible for that portion of their lawn and they still mow it every time. That said, my husband J has stopped doing it and one of us always looks silly and as if we don’t care. Now, we just try to be the first to mow and they have a follow up mow a day or two later.
A few weeks ago my jaw dropped so far that even now it’s not all the way back in its socket. Said Neighbor has a friend, we’ll call her Peppa Ballerina. Peppa (whom I’ve spoken to 3 times in my life) leaving Neighbor’s house, sees me working in the front flower garden and says, “It must be rough living next door to someone who has a perfect garden that they never have to work on, it just naturally looks good. Hard to keep up with, huh?”
WHA!!!!! Are you serious? Neighbor and I get along fine, especially since her hormones have leveled out following the birth of her beautiful baby. Who does Peppa think she is and what right does she have to say ANYTHING to me? Go back to your mom’s house. By the way, I happen to know exactly how hard they DO work when their yard looks good. In addition, they lived there a good year before we even bought the house let alone made it our shared residence a year after closing. Peppa, maybe you are correct this month that while Neighbor is still recovering from child birth, she doesn’t work that hard but her husband does AND you should see how hard they worked when you weren’t there. RUDE!
I’m thinking that if you park BEHIND a car that is parked correctly, you might be drunk. I’m thinking that you are drunk, especially if it’s at the grocery store on a weekday afternoon. But, more than ever, I’m thinking that you might be drunk if you have a tree branch under your car and even my husband saw you on the opposite side of town and remembers seeing your car prior to when I saw your car at the grocery store!
Okay, please see my beautiful diagram. A forty-something woman parked her car in such a fashion as the blue box, which represents a car (All of the boxes are cars). Keep in mind that there is another row of cars parked behind the blue car and NOONE could get out of their space because she had the entire lane blocked! Not only that but she must have run over a tree because it was wedged beneath the car. Please housewives don’t drink too much in the afternoon if you are going to have to run out to the market to fetch dinner…or vodka.
During our radio show the other day, this topic came up. Here is a blog I wrote a couple of years ago.
I know I know. A lot of people rant about Starbucks and their elitist vocabulary and audacity to charge 5 bucks for a cup of coffee. Yes, this is one of those rants. Is my rant any different from all the others. No.
After spending my annual salary on lamely overpriced textbooks (supply and demand people – we shouldn’t buy text books), I head over to Starbucks to spend my 4 hour break between classes. The place that I took my business to buy those gold bricks of knowledge is off campus, as is Starbucks.
I should really head back to campus where somewhat comfy chairs await me in somewhat beautiful buildings but I decide that being a participant in popular culture, I should spend this time in this modern library. So, I spend 2.50 plus tax for a large cup of hot apple juice (you’ll recall that I don’t like coffee).
I attempt to access the internet via my laptop in order to work on my online class course work. No such luck! Sadly, the kingdom known as Starbucks must be suffering due to high internet costs so they CHARGE you to access the wireless network! Every other place that I frequent that has the ambiance that Starbucks “offers” also provides an internet connection! Fortunately my ego allows me to return to school without needing to tell people that I spent my time at Starbucks studying (doesn’t the cup say it all – what a cultural artifact that has become!). I pack up shop and drive the mile back to campus where I spend time sitting here writing about Starbucks. Now I do have internet connection but I’m not using it for studying. If I don’t get anything done, I blame it on Starbucks.
Luckily I am not the one who paid for this cup of hot apple juice. My lovely sister spent her hard earned Starbucks wage to give me a gift card. In reality does that mean that Starbucks paid for the beverage? Doubtful. Give me the pickle Starbucks, give me the pickle…the internet would be nice. Although, I criticize you for your lack of customer service in this area, I have two compliments.
1. The whipped cream on apple juice! Very nice touch. Who knew those were a good mix? YOU DID!
2. Starbucks, do you recycle? Strangely enough my apple cider is about the same temperature and hue as it will be later when it returns to this earth…
The honor of being able to share so many door-to-door salesman stories is so tremendous but I wish that this was not a medal that I had the pleasure of wearing.
The daughter of the loudest family on the block, stopped by yesterday while I was outside gardening. Our closest friends in the neighborhood join us in calling her Blonde Blob on a Bike, the first part is self-explanatory, and the second part is because she is always on her bike. Yesterday, she was showing off an array of gift wrappings and other trinkets that can be found at the local Wal-Mart but come at an expensive premium for the sake of the failing local school budget and to build character in the students who hawk these distasteful treasures.
Triple B, without her bike today, asked me if I would like to buy some things for her fundraiser so she could earn a bike at school. I said, “No thanks” (She already has a bike, remember?). She demanded that I take a look at the catalogue for the reason that it only happened once a year! Nice move, create urgency and demand, make me feel like I won’t make it in that year time frame before you bother the heck out of me again. Not going to work with me. “No thanks.” I say again, adding “I don’t have any money”. She looks at me, puffing out her lower lip. She must think that it looks adorable and irresistible but it looks like she just has an overly large under bite. I stick out my own lip and add, “My husband lost his job yesterday”.
“Oh, that’s okay.” She says in her most understanding voice. “You can write a check!”
“Good point.” I reply “But I’m not going to.”
Two days ago, everything online dripped and drooled of September 11th reminders, news and sentiments. I’m not complaining, I have as much feeling about the event as most, perhaps even more than some. I just couldn’t make myself compose such feelings into an official September 11th posting ON September 11th. TODAY is the day for mine.
I remember sleeping a little bit later than usual before class began in the second week of school. The teenager that I was somewhat of a nanny for flew up the stairs. She plowed through my bedroom door, landing on the bed. Somewhere from downstairs, her screeches followed, delayed by my waking up. She said something about the world ending and planes crashing everywhere. Less than a year after a tragedy in my own family, I wasn’t quite prepared for this one.
Thankfully, my family wasn’t affected by the loss of a loved one in this calamity. Despite this, my heart hurt and my eyes watched and read everything they came across. My attention to this incident was second only to the Columbine shootings and the trauma I witnessed as I watched live, home sick from school for the day.
My heart was pained this year on September 11th, newly named “Patriots Day” when the school inner calm buzzed to life and a narrative was read regarding September 11th. The ache came when not a single student in the room stopped their typing or talking neither during the account of the horrific events of that day nor during the 15 seconds of so-called silence that followed.
The feelings that I was experiencing towards those students yesterday; hurt, dismay, shock, anger and frustration, are probably the same ones that older people feel towards my generation when the 4th of July, Labor Day and Memorial Day roll around. Out here those days constitute wild drinking, barbeques, a day off, home improvement projects and fireworks. What will become of September 11th?
Personally, this week has been exciting! I started my new job, recorded my second radio show and my husband had a great party! I love when people drive by our home very slowly to get a good look at what we are doing. This week we had the football game projected on to the front of our house for all of our friends to come watch the game. It was fabulous and the talk of the neighborhood. Especially since I turned people away and sent them home.
I don’t want people to think I don’t like children. My entire life revolves around working with kids, mentoring them and counseling them so this is NOT the case BUT, I don’t like babysitting. In fact, it is probably one of my least favorite things to do, especially if I am not getting paid! I like to hang out with kids but not when I’m having a party that isn’t set up for children.
Why do people think that it is okay to send your children down to my house to sit among my friends and watch a football game (uninvited) when you are not even going to be there to watch them! AND, you don’t know me! My friends are all adults, they are watching a football game and they are drinking alcohol! Yes, some of our friends have their children there but they are also there to supervise them!
Sadly, I had to be the neighborhood Meany and tell about 10 kids that they were allowed to come see the game and attend the coolest party ever ONLY IF they brought their parents! After all, it was 8:30pm on a school night, what are they doing out anyway? Yes, I made children cry but oh well, I’m not throwing a parents night out babysitting party! Get a clue and some manners too!