Oh the dating years! Flirting, going out, laughing, dancing, long walks, holding hands…the highs, the lows. Do you remember them? I bet if you do, you are picturing yourself in your teens and early twenties. That’s how I picture dating. Except for the lows, I remember those dating years with fondness. I started a little late compared to my friends. I “went with” a boy in 8th grade, but I didn’t start dating until the second half of my senior year. After that, I dated several guys in college before meeting the man who would eventually become my ex-husband.
And that’s the rub -- he is now my ex-husband…has been for several years. It’s time to start dating again, but how do you do that in your forties and with children?? This is not the same scenario as when I was a young adult with no wrinkles, a youthful waistline, legs that went on forever, and unlimited free time. Not even close! Ha. It has been 8 years since my husband left, and I have yet to have one of those “he asked her out” dates. I’ve gone to dinner and to the movies with a man, but I was the one who suggested to my friend that we go. I spent a great day with another man, but it still was not a “he asked her out” date.
I am looking forward to a “real” date, but I am scared to death about it at the same time. I’ve had a couple friends offer to set me up with their friends but nothing has ever transpired. A blind date makes me panic, to be honest. Why? I think because I am afraid I will see disappointment in his eyes when he sees me. How horrible is that? Just a few days ago, I was having lunch with a friend and she realized that she had a friend that I might like. I just nodded. I didn’t push the matter because I am too afraid. Isn’t that funny! I can confidently face 150 middle school, hormone-driven children and their parents, but meeting a man I don’t know for dinner has me shaking at the knees. Back in our youth, we didn’t need to rely on blind dates. We met each other in classes, activities, and as friends of friends. We met, talked, had crushes, and finally one person would ask the other on a date. It was simple…well, sorta simple. Now I am a mother and a teacher. Basically almost everything I do has something to do with children, not adults. My friend told me I needed to go to a bar. She laughed because she knew that wasn’t my style. I laughed too. :)
So what does a gal do when she would like to date but can’t do it the way she did when she was young? A few years ago on Valentine‘s Day, I ate through an entire box of chocolates as I spent an hour filling out the questions for eHarmony. How excited I was that I had 14 matches (or something like that) as soon as I finished. The excitement quickly faded as those matches started to close. After several months, I had seventy “rejections” and decided that I didn’t have an eHarmony face…or body for that matter. Online dating just was not for me. I’m listed as single on facebook, which means I get a lot of facebook ads for online dating. There are the ones that I have seen before: eHarmony (which is now on face book), Zoosk, and Match.com. A couple years ago I saw the ad for “Meet Millionaire Men” -- an online dating service for women looking for rich men. I laughed and as a joke created an account. For the next several months, I kept getting requests for communication from “Millionaire Men”. That cracked me up! I might have seen where it would lead, but if I remember correctly the fee to “talk” with these men was around $60 a month! Somebody was getting rich, that was for sure! Ha. Today I saw that “Meet Christian Singles” was advertising that “Autumn is a season for romance.” Hmmm, interesting. (Fall for your man in the fall?) I have received a couple ads for SeniorPeopleMeet.com. Oh dear, I don’t think I am ready for that yet. (grin) The other one I saw today made me laugh out loud. It advertised “Men who love curves…Men who prefer the woman in their life to have curves.” Okay, what man doesn’t want some curves? Seriously. Nowhere do I see a site advertising “Men who want flat-chested women.” I’m holding out for a website that advertises, “Men who are looking for big hips and tiny chests.” Ha! Okay, I’m done making fun of these online dating sites.
So, will I ever get a real “he asked her out” date? Yep, I think so. When? Oh, who knows?? I would love to go on a date right now, but it might not happen until my children are grown and in college. One thing I know for sure, if I do go on several dates, I bet I will have something else to write about. No way can I go on too many dates without having one of my famous “Jenny Moments” -- statistically it has to happen at least a couple times. And won‘t you have fun reading about it! (Grin!)
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Tongue Tied
Have you ever said something and wished you could take it back?? I do that all the time. Sometimes, like this weekend, I say (or email) something that just comes out all wrong. It’s like this quote, “I open my mouth to switch feet!” There are other times, though, that I speak and the world laughs at me (or with me if I am in the mood). I don’t have to try; I am already an expert at this!
Here is an example. I teach math in the middle school. Last year I was becoming more and more frustrated with my honor students waiting until after the bell rang to go sharpen their pencils. I finally decided to broach the subject. It was quite ineffective, though, when I very seriously and very adamantly said, “You must PENCIL your SHARPENS before the bell rings!” Ack! Instead of nodding of heads and compliance, I received shaking of heads and snickers. Oh dear. I do that all the time – switch words – especially if I am trying to talk quickly. In math we end up fractioning the reduces, problem the solves, and finding the triangle of a perimeter. Believe it or not, my students do fairly well in math despite my twisted tongue issues.
I have messed up with my students’ parents, too. (It is a wonder I still have this job! Ha.) Last year during Back to School night, I was sharing with the parents my procedure for missing assignments. I have these pink pieces of paper that the students must fill out. While I was talking, I suddenly wanted to say “sheets” of paper and “slips” of paper at the same time. What came out was a combination of the two – I pretty much used the word “sheets” but with the vowel of “slips” – pink $@#& of paper! Oh my goodness! I know my face got red immediately. The parents (and there were a lot of them) just started to laugh at me. Whew! I looked at them, grinned, and told them I would be getting my resume ready. That just made them laugh more. :)
How about those times when you say something like “bye, love ya” and then realize that you just said that to a cashier at a grocery store? I always finished phone calls with my husband by saying “bye, love ya”. That wasn’t a big deal until I started working a job where I had to use the phone quite often to talk with customers and staff members. More than once I’d finish a call with, “bye, love ya”. I would realize my error as soon as I put the phone down and then wish to melt under my desk and into the floor! I would hope that maybe, just maybe, they disconnected before I did – maybe they didn’t hear my affirmation of love. I KNOW I am not alone in this. I have heard co-workers do the same thing. And do I nod in their direction with sympathy and understanding? Heck no – I double up with laughter. Sorry, I just do. :) It has even happened once to me – a customer said “love ya” as he was hanging up. Again, I laughed out loud (after I had hung up the phone). I think I was just so glad that I am not the only one who accidently does this.
How about talking to yourself? Alright, I might be the only one who does that. :) One day I was driving and making a mental list of everything that needed to get done when I got home. I suddenly had the bright idea to use my cell phone to call my home phone and leave myself a message with the list. At the end of my message I said, “Well, I think that is it. Talk to you later. Bye.” Talk to you later??? Talk to myself later?? I laughed and then looked around to see if anyone had caught me saying that to myself. Then I had to laugh at myself again. I was driving…with the windows up! Everyone around me was driving…with their windows up. I’m not sure who I thought was going to overhear my conversation with myself. Oh dear (shaking my head…and then laughing again).
Some of my favorite Jenny Tongue Tied moments came my first year of teaching. That year, my assignment was with ESL students (English as a Second Language). I had three years of Spanish in high school, but that barely got me started in communicating with these students. One poor boy kept getting called the Spanish word for “alligator” because I was not pronouncing his name correctly. I used wrong words more than once. Imagine the confused look on one father’s face when I told him (in my Spanish) that HE was doing well in my class (instead of his son). In teaching multiplication for the first time to some of these students, I was using some Popsicle sticks to show that multiplication is just grouping (3 groups of 5 sticks is 3 x 5). I did have a translator in that class who finally asked me what I was trying to say in my broken Spanish. When I told her, she laughed and then told me that I was actually talking to the students about “tiny hairs” not “small sticks”. Oops. No wonder they looked confused.
My favorite “oops” from that first year of teaching came during parent-teacher conferences. It just happened that all the classes got changed. This meant that I would be talking with parents that I would no longer have their students in my classes after the conferences. In my broken Spanish, I tried to say, “Wednesday was my last day with your child. Monday, he/she will have a new teacher.” Oh, the confused looks I would get!! Time after time, I would just get this blank stare from the parents. Finally during a break, I went to one of the other teachers to find out what I was doing wrong. You know what it was? Instead of using the word for Monday, I was using the word for Never! I was telling the parents that Wednesday was my last day and their child would NEVER get a new teacher! Ha! No wonder they stared at me with glassy eyes. Thankfully none of those parents ever complained. Obviously they realized I was a young lady who maybe shouldn’t have been trying her Spanish on them.
I have to leave you with one last story from that school year. This time it was not me who had the language problem. It was one of my students. In Social Studies I had the students do a hands-on project where they matched state names with their capitals. One perplexed student raised his hand and asked me, “What is the capital of Alaska?” I answered, “Juneau.” He looked at me so sadly and cried, “No I don’t.” :) It took everything I had not to laugh out loud (sorry kid), and then I explained that I had not just said, “you know!” Yes, that really did happen.
Here is an example. I teach math in the middle school. Last year I was becoming more and more frustrated with my honor students waiting until after the bell rang to go sharpen their pencils. I finally decided to broach the subject. It was quite ineffective, though, when I very seriously and very adamantly said, “You must PENCIL your SHARPENS before the bell rings!” Ack! Instead of nodding of heads and compliance, I received shaking of heads and snickers. Oh dear. I do that all the time – switch words – especially if I am trying to talk quickly. In math we end up fractioning the reduces, problem the solves, and finding the triangle of a perimeter. Believe it or not, my students do fairly well in math despite my twisted tongue issues.
I have messed up with my students’ parents, too. (It is a wonder I still have this job! Ha.) Last year during Back to School night, I was sharing with the parents my procedure for missing assignments. I have these pink pieces of paper that the students must fill out. While I was talking, I suddenly wanted to say “sheets” of paper and “slips” of paper at the same time. What came out was a combination of the two – I pretty much used the word “sheets” but with the vowel of “slips” – pink $@#& of paper! Oh my goodness! I know my face got red immediately. The parents (and there were a lot of them) just started to laugh at me. Whew! I looked at them, grinned, and told them I would be getting my resume ready. That just made them laugh more. :)
How about those times when you say something like “bye, love ya” and then realize that you just said that to a cashier at a grocery store? I always finished phone calls with my husband by saying “bye, love ya”. That wasn’t a big deal until I started working a job where I had to use the phone quite often to talk with customers and staff members. More than once I’d finish a call with, “bye, love ya”. I would realize my error as soon as I put the phone down and then wish to melt under my desk and into the floor! I would hope that maybe, just maybe, they disconnected before I did – maybe they didn’t hear my affirmation of love. I KNOW I am not alone in this. I have heard co-workers do the same thing. And do I nod in their direction with sympathy and understanding? Heck no – I double up with laughter. Sorry, I just do. :) It has even happened once to me – a customer said “love ya” as he was hanging up. Again, I laughed out loud (after I had hung up the phone). I think I was just so glad that I am not the only one who accidently does this.
How about talking to yourself? Alright, I might be the only one who does that. :) One day I was driving and making a mental list of everything that needed to get done when I got home. I suddenly had the bright idea to use my cell phone to call my home phone and leave myself a message with the list. At the end of my message I said, “Well, I think that is it. Talk to you later. Bye.” Talk to you later??? Talk to myself later?? I laughed and then looked around to see if anyone had caught me saying that to myself. Then I had to laugh at myself again. I was driving…with the windows up! Everyone around me was driving…with their windows up. I’m not sure who I thought was going to overhear my conversation with myself. Oh dear (shaking my head…and then laughing again).
Some of my favorite Jenny Tongue Tied moments came my first year of teaching. That year, my assignment was with ESL students (English as a Second Language). I had three years of Spanish in high school, but that barely got me started in communicating with these students. One poor boy kept getting called the Spanish word for “alligator” because I was not pronouncing his name correctly. I used wrong words more than once. Imagine the confused look on one father’s face when I told him (in my Spanish) that HE was doing well in my class (instead of his son). In teaching multiplication for the first time to some of these students, I was using some Popsicle sticks to show that multiplication is just grouping (3 groups of 5 sticks is 3 x 5). I did have a translator in that class who finally asked me what I was trying to say in my broken Spanish. When I told her, she laughed and then told me that I was actually talking to the students about “tiny hairs” not “small sticks”. Oops. No wonder they looked confused.
My favorite “oops” from that first year of teaching came during parent-teacher conferences. It just happened that all the classes got changed. This meant that I would be talking with parents that I would no longer have their students in my classes after the conferences. In my broken Spanish, I tried to say, “Wednesday was my last day with your child. Monday, he/she will have a new teacher.” Oh, the confused looks I would get!! Time after time, I would just get this blank stare from the parents. Finally during a break, I went to one of the other teachers to find out what I was doing wrong. You know what it was? Instead of using the word for Monday, I was using the word for Never! I was telling the parents that Wednesday was my last day and their child would NEVER get a new teacher! Ha! No wonder they stared at me with glassy eyes. Thankfully none of those parents ever complained. Obviously they realized I was a young lady who maybe shouldn’t have been trying her Spanish on them.
I have to leave you with one last story from that school year. This time it was not me who had the language problem. It was one of my students. In Social Studies I had the students do a hands-on project where they matched state names with their capitals. One perplexed student raised his hand and asked me, “What is the capital of Alaska?” I answered, “Juneau.” He looked at me so sadly and cried, “No I don’t.” :) It took everything I had not to laugh out loud (sorry kid), and then I explained that I had not just said, “you know!” Yes, that really did happen.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Did you just Fluff?
Parents of young kids are always helping their children give names to things that they are seeing or experiencing. For example, that shining red thing with lights and sounds that speeds down the road is a Fire Truck. That word you need to say before you ask for something is Please. You understand. Ok, so parents this is for you – what word did you use with your children when they (or you) passed gas? I’ve heard “passed gas”, “toot”, and “fart” – the last one being the one we probably don’t want our kids to say loudly in the middle of a restaurant! I heard a term that was so cute that I decided to take it on and use it with my kids (we still use it) – Fluff. (As in, “Oh dear, did you just fluff?”) I don’t know what pictures were in my children’s heads, but I pictured soft white cotton balls floating up into the air! Oh my!
Don’t get me wrong, my children knew some of the other terms too. This became apparent one day when I was shopping with my young daughter. She might have been four or five years old. We got out of the car in the parking lot, and I let one slip…I fluffed. My daughter immediately said quite loudly, “Mommy, you farted!” I said in a quiet tone (hoping to encourage her to be quiet), “No honey, I fluffed.” She would have none of that! Louder and with the amused attention of some of the other parking lot customers, she said again, “Oh NO Mom, you FARTED.” Where is that place where parents can go hide once in awhile??
My son has learned (and maybe is still learning) that there are places where you just do not pass any gas. One day he and some of his cousins were playing Hide-and-Seek in our home. His hiding place was the empty cabinets under the bathroom sink. No one knew where he was until he finally burst out. “Ewwww,” he cried out. Apparently, he fluffed in the small confines of that cabinet, and the toxicity of it was enough to make him come shooting out.
My favorite story (and the reason I am actually writing this) happened when my son was about five years old. We were getting ready to go somewhere, and we were running late. In trying to quickly get dressed, I pulled a pair of jeans out of the dirty clothes pile for the short trip. As an added precaution to make sure they didn’t smell like dirty clothes, I dumped some baby powder down the pants before putting them on. I ran downstairs to get the kids ready and into the car. I dropped something and bent down to pick it up. As soon as I bent down, I fluffed. Oops. My son, who was behind me at the time, exclaimed with absolute amazement, “Cool Mom, SMOKE came out of your BOTTOM!!” Hmmm, that was the last time I ever powdered my pants. :)
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Don’t get me wrong, my children knew some of the other terms too. This became apparent one day when I was shopping with my young daughter. She might have been four or five years old. We got out of the car in the parking lot, and I let one slip…I fluffed. My daughter immediately said quite loudly, “Mommy, you farted!” I said in a quiet tone (hoping to encourage her to be quiet), “No honey, I fluffed.” She would have none of that! Louder and with the amused attention of some of the other parking lot customers, she said again, “Oh NO Mom, you FARTED.” Where is that place where parents can go hide once in awhile??
My son has learned (and maybe is still learning) that there are places where you just do not pass any gas. One day he and some of his cousins were playing Hide-and-Seek in our home. His hiding place was the empty cabinets under the bathroom sink. No one knew where he was until he finally burst out. “Ewwww,” he cried out. Apparently, he fluffed in the small confines of that cabinet, and the toxicity of it was enough to make him come shooting out.
My favorite story (and the reason I am actually writing this) happened when my son was about five years old. We were getting ready to go somewhere, and we were running late. In trying to quickly get dressed, I pulled a pair of jeans out of the dirty clothes pile for the short trip. As an added precaution to make sure they didn’t smell like dirty clothes, I dumped some baby powder down the pants before putting them on. I ran downstairs to get the kids ready and into the car. I dropped something and bent down to pick it up. As soon as I bent down, I fluffed. Oops. My son, who was behind me at the time, exclaimed with absolute amazement, “Cool Mom, SMOKE came out of your BOTTOM!!” Hmmm, that was the last time I ever powdered my pants. :)
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Sunday, October 24, 2010
Clothing Mishaps
This morning my middle school son did something that got him into trouble. I, at first, was going to take away his TV privileges (for a week), and then decided on a better plan – he had to go with me as I went clothing shopping! My son said that he’d rather lose the TV. (Grin) At one clothing store, he was so close to me as I was looking at shirts, that I thought he was trying to bug me enough for me to regret the punishment I had handed out. I had a solution for that – I headed towards the bra section! Ha. He found somewhere else to go. Ten minutes later he was back at my side and asked if I was getting more clothes to try on than normal in order to really punish him. No….this was normal. :)
I have been slowly losing weight and loving it! I have lost 45 pounds this past year. Hooray! That does mean that as the cold weather is approaching I find myself with not much to wear that doesn’t hang too loosely. In fact, while on crutches I have had problems with shirts that dip too low or fall off one of my shoulders. (And then I almost fall as I try to hold onto the crutches and fix my outfit at the same time!) This is why I have been clothes shopping lately. Doing this, though, does remind me of some of my past clothing misadventures. Of course I’m going to tell you all about a few of them!
Do you ever have those “oh my word, I don’t have all my clothes on” dreams?? I’m told they are anxiety dreams. Definitely! I admit that I have had those dreams, but only my bottom half is bare. In my dreams, once I realize my mistake in dressing, I finish the rest of the dream trying to pull my shirt down as far as it can go….which never works as well as it should! I wake up and wonder WHY I have these dreams. Then I worry that maybe sometime in my life this really happened and it is just recurring while I try to sleep! Hmmm. I guess a couple times it has happened to a small degree. I’m told (I do not remember this) that when I was a toddler my family was at a Christian retreat, and I had to go the bathroom. My mom had to attend to my baby sister only to find me running through the men’s section back to her with my pants down at my ankles! Ooops. I do remember a time in high school. We had just finished a basketball game and our male coach was in the locker room having the post-game discussion with us. Without thinking, I started getting undressed while he was still talking with us – pants first! Uh… When I realized what I had just done, my knees hit the floor as I pulled my shirt down to meet the floor! Oh dear! So maybe those dreams of mine are justified!
Those aren’t the only times I have had “almost bare” moments. I’m here to tell you that if I can live through these, so can you! In fact, not much clothing-wise embarrasses me anymore. To start, I have advice for some of you young gals – if your mother allows you to have her old bikini underwear…Don’t! Old underwear can have a problem – sometimes that elastic gives out. Add that to doing a lay-up during summer basketball practice while the football team is on break and watching….well, it’s kind of embarrassing! I ran out the far doors and didn’t come back! (I had no underwear to wear for the rest of practice…)
My clumsiness has gotten me in trouble a few times. I remember the end of one ob/gyn appointment. The doctor had left, and I was to get dressed and go to the front desk. I was wearing a dress with a belt that day. I got dressed, gathered my things, and walked out of the private room towards the busy front foyer. Thankfully I found my error in dressing before being in front of tons of other patients. Unfortunately, I didn’t figure it out before passing the doctor. What happened? The whole back of my dress was tucked in my belt. How I didn’t feel the breeze back there, I don’t know. When the doctor cleared his throat, I realized what had happened. I released the back of my dress and kept moving. That poor doctor probably had a laugh after I left and a small story to take home with him that day. :)
Back in the early 1990s, I went on several off-roading and camping trips with some friends. I had another embarrassing moment then. One of the couples with us had a five-year old boy. At one of our stops, he was facing backwards in the jeep in front of me. He had a small frown on his face, so I went to wave hello to him. (I was standing outside in front of my truck.) As I lifted my hand to wave, my thumb got caught on my shirt. Before I realized what was happening, my hand was waving above my head with the bottom of my shirt still attached to it. Oh my goodness! I quickly slammed my shirt down against my body in hopes that no one else saw what happened. In my chatter of disbelief of what I had just done, I had to explain to the boy’s father that I had just flashed his son. Of course, during the rest of the trip, the boy kept looking back at me to see what else I would do!
I am not the only one in my family that has had “issues” with clothing. When my son was 3 ½, he went to the dentist for his very first time. (By the way, he might shoot me for telling this story….grin) While he was playing in the corner of the waiting area, his dad remembered a forgotten item and shared the info with me, “Oh yeah, your son is not wearing any underwear today.” Oh great, I thought! “You mean my son is going ‘Commando’ for his very first Dentist Appointment?” Well, though kind of funny, not a big deal, right? Wrong. The dentist appointment went well, and we were very proud of our son. (They had him go back on his own, and he was not scared to do that.) The next morning, my son got out of bed before we did, and he decided to dress himself in the same outfit he had on the day before (the same outfit he had on at the Dentist’s office). He came into our room and jumped in bed between us. We talked and played around until I saw something curious. I stopped my son and looked between the legs of his pants. Right in the middle of the crotch was a big hole…with something peering out! OH NO!! First thought that went through my mind was this: Were his pants like that yesterday at the Dentist office?? We’ll never know (thank goodness). How embarrassing (at least to Mom). Another doctor with another story maybe!
So, are our “clothing optional” dreams due to anxiety for the future or embarrassment from the past? Possibly both! Either way, if you can keep your chin up when the clothing misadventures happen, you’ll someday have a fun story to share with your family and friends!
Share
I have been slowly losing weight and loving it! I have lost 45 pounds this past year. Hooray! That does mean that as the cold weather is approaching I find myself with not much to wear that doesn’t hang too loosely. In fact, while on crutches I have had problems with shirts that dip too low or fall off one of my shoulders. (And then I almost fall as I try to hold onto the crutches and fix my outfit at the same time!) This is why I have been clothes shopping lately. Doing this, though, does remind me of some of my past clothing misadventures. Of course I’m going to tell you all about a few of them!
Do you ever have those “oh my word, I don’t have all my clothes on” dreams?? I’m told they are anxiety dreams. Definitely! I admit that I have had those dreams, but only my bottom half is bare. In my dreams, once I realize my mistake in dressing, I finish the rest of the dream trying to pull my shirt down as far as it can go….which never works as well as it should! I wake up and wonder WHY I have these dreams. Then I worry that maybe sometime in my life this really happened and it is just recurring while I try to sleep! Hmmm. I guess a couple times it has happened to a small degree. I’m told (I do not remember this) that when I was a toddler my family was at a Christian retreat, and I had to go the bathroom. My mom had to attend to my baby sister only to find me running through the men’s section back to her with my pants down at my ankles! Ooops. I do remember a time in high school. We had just finished a basketball game and our male coach was in the locker room having the post-game discussion with us. Without thinking, I started getting undressed while he was still talking with us – pants first! Uh… When I realized what I had just done, my knees hit the floor as I pulled my shirt down to meet the floor! Oh dear! So maybe those dreams of mine are justified!
Those aren’t the only times I have had “almost bare” moments. I’m here to tell you that if I can live through these, so can you! In fact, not much clothing-wise embarrasses me anymore. To start, I have advice for some of you young gals – if your mother allows you to have her old bikini underwear…Don’t! Old underwear can have a problem – sometimes that elastic gives out. Add that to doing a lay-up during summer basketball practice while the football team is on break and watching….well, it’s kind of embarrassing! I ran out the far doors and didn’t come back! (I had no underwear to wear for the rest of practice…)
My clumsiness has gotten me in trouble a few times. I remember the end of one ob/gyn appointment. The doctor had left, and I was to get dressed and go to the front desk. I was wearing a dress with a belt that day. I got dressed, gathered my things, and walked out of the private room towards the busy front foyer. Thankfully I found my error in dressing before being in front of tons of other patients. Unfortunately, I didn’t figure it out before passing the doctor. What happened? The whole back of my dress was tucked in my belt. How I didn’t feel the breeze back there, I don’t know. When the doctor cleared his throat, I realized what had happened. I released the back of my dress and kept moving. That poor doctor probably had a laugh after I left and a small story to take home with him that day. :)
Back in the early 1990s, I went on several off-roading and camping trips with some friends. I had another embarrassing moment then. One of the couples with us had a five-year old boy. At one of our stops, he was facing backwards in the jeep in front of me. He had a small frown on his face, so I went to wave hello to him. (I was standing outside in front of my truck.) As I lifted my hand to wave, my thumb got caught on my shirt. Before I realized what was happening, my hand was waving above my head with the bottom of my shirt still attached to it. Oh my goodness! I quickly slammed my shirt down against my body in hopes that no one else saw what happened. In my chatter of disbelief of what I had just done, I had to explain to the boy’s father that I had just flashed his son. Of course, during the rest of the trip, the boy kept looking back at me to see what else I would do!
I am not the only one in my family that has had “issues” with clothing. When my son was 3 ½, he went to the dentist for his very first time. (By the way, he might shoot me for telling this story….grin) While he was playing in the corner of the waiting area, his dad remembered a forgotten item and shared the info with me, “Oh yeah, your son is not wearing any underwear today.” Oh great, I thought! “You mean my son is going ‘Commando’ for his very first Dentist Appointment?” Well, though kind of funny, not a big deal, right? Wrong. The dentist appointment went well, and we were very proud of our son. (They had him go back on his own, and he was not scared to do that.) The next morning, my son got out of bed before we did, and he decided to dress himself in the same outfit he had on the day before (the same outfit he had on at the Dentist’s office). He came into our room and jumped in bed between us. We talked and played around until I saw something curious. I stopped my son and looked between the legs of his pants. Right in the middle of the crotch was a big hole…with something peering out! OH NO!! First thought that went through my mind was this: Were his pants like that yesterday at the Dentist office?? We’ll never know (thank goodness). How embarrassing (at least to Mom). Another doctor with another story maybe!
So, are our “clothing optional” dreams due to anxiety for the future or embarrassment from the past? Possibly both! Either way, if you can keep your chin up when the clothing misadventures happen, you’ll someday have a fun story to share with your family and friends!
Share
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Jen and her Flat Tires
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My tire changing adventures did not stop there. For some reason, not too long after I was once again single, I had a rash of flat tires with this same SUV. Recently, my mother sent me a letter that I had sent after the third flat tire. It was written in true “Jen Adventure” style, and I thought you might enjoy it.
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JENNY CHANGES A FLAT TIRE or THREE FLATS IN THREE MONTHS
January 28, 2003
Ahhh! What is it with my car??? I totally caused the first flat by driving over a curb as I made a rapid and not so smart turn (in November). The second flat (a couple weeks ago) actually was a slow leak from a nail lodged in the sidewall. Today's flat is still a mystery. By the way, all three flats happened at different locations on the car - at this rate, I still have the driver's side back tire to blow out on me. (I’m knocking on wood right now!)
This time I did what I wished I had done back in November: I changed my own tire!!! All by myself!!! YEAH! Ok, I had directions to follow (attached to the car - so I had to keep going to the back of the car to read the next step). Oh yeah - and I had 3-year old Rachel - my never-ceasing music of encouragement. "When are you going to get in trouble Mommy?" Her comment (which was repeated many times) was initiated by my words of instruction to her. You see, just before I started the "jack" part of my adventure, I thought of all of those stories told about cars falling on people. So, I put Rachel on an X (a place where she could watch but was out of all danger) and then proceeded to tell her what to do if Mommy falls asleep and cannot be "woken up." (Basically I told her that if something bad happened, she was supposed to go through the parking lot - watching out for cars - and into the church - my flat happened at preschool - and then to scream until someone came to help.) I think she was actually kind of excited about the "screaming part". (ha) Finally I told her to stop asking when I was going to need help - that if I needed help, I would be close to Death!
This experience was quite fun! Rachel and I would cheer and dance when a major (and difficult) task was completed. I would grunt loudly with each bolt that I loosened. Rachel finally asked, "are you in a lot of pain?" I laughed. "No, I just think the noise makes it easier to turn these things." Oldsmobile provides a nice plastic mat that I can put on the ground and use to keep myself from getting dirty. I bet they didn't even think about a 3-year old who would jump on the slush right beside the mat and (oh yes) right beside my head (my head was somewhat under the car as I was trying to dislodge the spare tire from the bottom of the car!) :-) Into the back of the car went that mat once it became wet on both sides. Oldsmobile also provides these nice orange work gloves - great for a 3-year old who has a hat & coat but no gloves in a 34 degree temperature. As for me - 3 band aids were applied afterwards to replace the skin that is still on the road. --- It took a little trip around the learning curve to understand how to efficiently use the lever that lifts the jack - my knuckles hit the ground on the down turn more than once.
But I Did it!!! Yeah! I may never choose to change a tire again…or I may. I wondered as I drove the rest of the day what poor soul by the side of the road might be enthusiastic about my newly acquired skill! It only took me 30 minutes to complete my change of tires; and that was with reading each instruction about 3 times before proceeding to the next task. By the way, the preschool director did come over and offer the services of a "Daddy" that was at the preschool that day. I thanked her but said I wanted to try it on my own - I was very excited about trying something new and perceptionally difficult. When I went in to the school after completing the task (so that dirt and blood could be erased from my hands, coat, pants, Rachel...) the director was the first person I saw. "I did it!" I cried. She came right over and gave me a hug! :-) And then she found some band aids. A bit later, Rachel came over and unsolicitly said, "I'm proud of you Mommy!" Now that was worth any bit of blood, slush and grunting!!
I did have a small talk with God about these flat tires - "So, is this what you wanted me to do? To change a tire by myself? It only took 3 flats to get my attention. I did it. So, you can stop flattening my tires now.”
I hope you all had a great (flatless) day today!!!
Love, Jenny
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The tire I had to change was the driver’s side front tire. I did it!! It took me awhile because everything was so dark. As I started working the jack, I saw how tippy the car was becoming. I instructed my two children to get out, run down the bank, jump over a tiny little creek, and stand by the fence that separated the highway land from the farmer’s land. I agree -- I was probably a bit paranoid, but I wanted to make sure that if I rolled my truck my children would still be safe. You know, I was a bit perturbed that I had to change my tire on New Year’s Day, but that was one of the best things that could have ever happened. I choose to believe it was a God thing. With that practice, I was able to change my 3rd ever tire in the dark with traffic passing at alarmingly close distances. By the way, after this flat tire, I finally purchased AAA insurance!
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Sunday, October 17, 2010
Tooth Fairy
Before I get started, I better give you a spoiler warning -- If you have kids (or spouses) who do not know the true identity of the Tooth Fairy, you might not want to read this to them. I do not want any hate mail because I ruined someone’s formative years with this truth. HA!
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I do believe I am only ONE tooth away from retiring as the Tooth Fairy at my home. By now my children know that I am the one who remembers (and at sometimes, does not remember) to swap the I-wish-they-weren’t-still-a-bit-blood-stained teeth with money. I remember when this all started! We were at a restaurant with some friends when my son started talking about a tooth that was loose. With some guidance and maybe a bit more peer pressure than needed, we finally helped him get the tooth out. Woohoo!! My son had lost his first tooth! Do you ever wonder why we get so excited about that? I took pictures of the tooth. I took pictures of the bleeding, gaping hole in my son’s mouth. And I was proud!
That night, I had CJ put his tooth under his pillow and then I started to panic. How in the world was I supposed to find this small little tooth in the dark under my son’s pillow? This was crazy! And with as much movement as my son makes while he is sleeping, I was half afraid that the pillow itself would not be where I last saw it when I kissed my son goodnight. Despite my apprehension, I did find my son’s tooth and switched it with a quarter. I was feeling pretty good about myself. I not only found the tooth, but I gave my son a full quarter -- 15 cents MORE than what I got as a child! Okay, I felt good until the next day after preschool. My son bragged about his tooth and his quarter, and then found out that one child received $5 for his tooth! What???? A couple days later, my son was at Sunday school and talked about his tooth. That was when he found out that one child received a toy for his tooth. Come on parents!!! What gives?? How can I live up to this standard as a single mom??? The reality is -- I can’t.
Less than a week later, my son lost his second tooth. Under tremendous peer pressure from parents I had never met before, I upped the ante! CJ got TWO quarters for this tooth -- a full 50 cents! Of course, I had a very smart four-year old at that time. He looked at me and said, “I get it! One quarter for the first tooth. Two quarters for the second tooth. Three quarters for the third tooth…..and it keeps going.” Uh Oh! I did have some time to think up a plan -- teeth #3 and #4 took awhile before they came out. On the third tooth, my son did receive 3 quarters. With the fourth tooth, he got 4 quarters and a note: “From now on, you will receive one dollar for each tooth.” Although I think my son was a bit sad that the amount wasn‘t going to keep increasing, he was getting four times as much as I had originally planned AND ten times as much as I got per tooth when I was a kid!
I did get smarter with the actual nightly tooth placement. I do believe I palmed the second tooth (pretended to put it under my son’s pillow). I felt a bit nervous that he would catch me or panic if he went to check his tooth and could not find it. My sister-in-law gave me another suggestion. She has her kids put their teeth in a glass of water on their dresser. A bit messy and wet, but it would definitely make the hunt for the tooth much easier. The best idea came from my mother. She purchased a tooth pillow -- a small little pillow that had a tiny pocket for the tooth. It had a small strap that allowed the whole thing to hang from a bedpost or a door knob. That was perfect and I found that 4 quarters or a dollar bill could fit into the pocket nicely. By the time my daughter started losing teeth, the whole process was in good working order. With her first tooth, my son promptly explained the score -- first tooth gets ONE quarter, second tooth gets TWO quarters….and so on until the fourth tooth. The only time I had a problem was when they both lost a tooth on the same day. I don’t even remember how I solved that one. Maybe I got the glass of water out for one of them.
I haven’t always been a perfect Tooth Fairy. More than once, I have forgotten to switch the tooth for the money. Ooops. In fact, there have been times when it has been forgotten a couple days in a row. Finally as my son was catching on to the fact that maybe I was the Tooth Fairy, I would say things like, “Hmmm. The Tooth Fairy has no money in her purse tonight. You need to give her a couple days to get some cash.” HA! Oh, so some of you have totally ripped the Mother of the Year banner from me, haven’t you?!? I got to tell you - I am not the only one who has forgotten! In fact, I got the idea to write this when I saw one of my friend’s status remarks on facebook. She, too, had forgotten to do the switch. She had several other parents comment on her status. My favorite (probably because it made me feel much better about my job) was the parent who admitted needing to break into her son’s piggy bank for the tooth money because she didn‘t have any money. Oh my word, that is too funny!
Now I have an all-important question for my fellow Tooth Fairies. What do you do with your children’s teeth? How many of you keep them in a jar or a box or somewhere??? I do! This is going to sound so wrong, but all of my children’s teeth are mixed together and hanging out in a jewelry box with my old wedding ring. Seriously, how has my old diamond ring become the guardian of the abandoned teeth? Oh well, many of the teeth are bigger than the diamond -- it just gets lost in there. HA. And WHY do we keep these teeth? Really? Have you ever stopped to ask yourself that? Did we think we were going to make a necklace….or did we need proof that our kids once HAD teeth…or are we hoping that we can get enough DNA from the teeth if our children get lost?? Teeth aren’t good for scrapbook pages, I can tell you that!
So why do we keep the teeth? Is this like pulling the tail on a tiger or raising our hands on a roller coaster? Are we looking for the thrill of trying to keep a secret while leaving evidence in places to be found? My mother kept our teeth in little pill bottles complete with our names on the bottles. One day I was bored and decided I would rummage through my mother’s dresser drawers (guess I was bad that way…ha). That was when I found the bottles of our teeth!! Evidence was all I needed, and I had the Truth! From the stories that I have been told, I thought what I had done was the best Big Sister thing I could think of -- I TOLD my little sister and brother that MOM was the Tooth Fairy! That might not have happend as I remembered. Not too long after I wrote this blog, Mom wrote me. (Hey Mom, thanks for reading this!!!) This is what she wrote: "Actually what you did when you found the little bottle of your teeth was run outside and grab the little neighbor boy by the shoulders, give him a shake, and tell him, 'I know who the Tooth Fairy is, I know who the Tooth Fairy is.'" I was such a brat! I wonder if his mom ever forgave me. (Grin)
At this point our lives, my children do know that I am their Tooth Fairy. My daughter has one more tooth to go. I might as well just hand her the dollar and tell her to let me know once the tooth is out. Ha. This just makes it all nice and neat. My children do not know that I still have their teeth. I can’t give them back exactly, because I put them all in the same box. I guess I could at least show them what their teeth looked like. I am sure one of them will say “Gross” while the other one will think they are cool. In fact, knowing my daughter, she will want to keep them in her room “forever.” Maybe I should just throw them away someday while I am cleaning the bathroom….and then sell that diamond ring to replenish the money I lost as the Tooth Fairy. Grin!
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That night, I had CJ put his tooth under his pillow and then I started to panic. How in the world was I supposed to find this small little tooth in the dark under my son’s pillow? This was crazy! And with as much movement as my son makes while he is sleeping, I was half afraid that the pillow itself would not be where I last saw it when I kissed my son goodnight. Despite my apprehension, I did find my son’s tooth and switched it with a quarter. I was feeling pretty good about myself. I not only found the tooth, but I gave my son a full quarter -- 15 cents MORE than what I got as a child! Okay, I felt good until the next day after preschool. My son bragged about his tooth and his quarter, and then found out that one child received $5 for his tooth! What???? A couple days later, my son was at Sunday school and talked about his tooth. That was when he found out that one child received a toy for his tooth. Come on parents!!! What gives?? How can I live up to this standard as a single mom??? The reality is -- I can’t.
Less than a week later, my son lost his second tooth. Under tremendous peer pressure from parents I had never met before, I upped the ante! CJ got TWO quarters for this tooth -- a full 50 cents! Of course, I had a very smart four-year old at that time. He looked at me and said, “I get it! One quarter for the first tooth. Two quarters for the second tooth. Three quarters for the third tooth…..and it keeps going.” Uh Oh! I did have some time to think up a plan -- teeth #3 and #4 took awhile before they came out. On the third tooth, my son did receive 3 quarters. With the fourth tooth, he got 4 quarters and a note: “From now on, you will receive one dollar for each tooth.” Although I think my son was a bit sad that the amount wasn‘t going to keep increasing, he was getting four times as much as I had originally planned AND ten times as much as I got per tooth when I was a kid!
I did get smarter with the actual nightly tooth placement. I do believe I palmed the second tooth (pretended to put it under my son’s pillow). I felt a bit nervous that he would catch me or panic if he went to check his tooth and could not find it. My sister-in-law gave me another suggestion. She has her kids put their teeth in a glass of water on their dresser. A bit messy and wet, but it would definitely make the hunt for the tooth much easier. The best idea came from my mother. She purchased a tooth pillow -- a small little pillow that had a tiny pocket for the tooth. It had a small strap that allowed the whole thing to hang from a bedpost or a door knob. That was perfect and I found that 4 quarters or a dollar bill could fit into the pocket nicely. By the time my daughter started losing teeth, the whole process was in good working order. With her first tooth, my son promptly explained the score -- first tooth gets ONE quarter, second tooth gets TWO quarters….and so on until the fourth tooth. The only time I had a problem was when they both lost a tooth on the same day. I don’t even remember how I solved that one. Maybe I got the glass of water out for one of them.
I haven’t always been a perfect Tooth Fairy. More than once, I have forgotten to switch the tooth for the money. Ooops. In fact, there have been times when it has been forgotten a couple days in a row. Finally as my son was catching on to the fact that maybe I was the Tooth Fairy, I would say things like, “Hmmm. The Tooth Fairy has no money in her purse tonight. You need to give her a couple days to get some cash.” HA! Oh, so some of you have totally ripped the Mother of the Year banner from me, haven’t you?!? I got to tell you - I am not the only one who has forgotten! In fact, I got the idea to write this when I saw one of my friend’s status remarks on facebook. She, too, had forgotten to do the switch. She had several other parents comment on her status. My favorite (probably because it made me feel much better about my job) was the parent who admitted needing to break into her son’s piggy bank for the tooth money because she didn‘t have any money. Oh my word, that is too funny!
Now I have an all-important question for my fellow Tooth Fairies. What do you do with your children’s teeth? How many of you keep them in a jar or a box or somewhere??? I do! This is going to sound so wrong, but all of my children’s teeth are mixed together and hanging out in a jewelry box with my old wedding ring. Seriously, how has my old diamond ring become the guardian of the abandoned teeth? Oh well, many of the teeth are bigger than the diamond -- it just gets lost in there. HA. And WHY do we keep these teeth? Really? Have you ever stopped to ask yourself that? Did we think we were going to make a necklace….or did we need proof that our kids once HAD teeth…or are we hoping that we can get enough DNA from the teeth if our children get lost?? Teeth aren’t good for scrapbook pages, I can tell you that!
So why do we keep the teeth? Is this like pulling the tail on a tiger or raising our hands on a roller coaster? Are we looking for the thrill of trying to keep a secret while leaving evidence in places to be found? My mother kept our teeth in little pill bottles complete with our names on the bottles. One day I was bored and decided I would rummage through my mother’s dresser drawers (guess I was bad that way…ha). That was when I found the bottles of our teeth!! Evidence was all I needed, and I had the Truth! From the stories that I have been told, I thought what I had done was the best Big Sister thing I could think of -- I TOLD my little sister and brother that MOM was the Tooth Fairy! That might not have happend as I remembered. Not too long after I wrote this blog, Mom wrote me. (Hey Mom, thanks for reading this!!!) This is what she wrote: "Actually what you did when you found the little bottle of your teeth was run outside and grab the little neighbor boy by the shoulders, give him a shake, and tell him, 'I know who the Tooth Fairy is, I know who the Tooth Fairy is.'" I was such a brat! I wonder if his mom ever forgave me. (Grin)
At this point our lives, my children do know that I am their Tooth Fairy. My daughter has one more tooth to go. I might as well just hand her the dollar and tell her to let me know once the tooth is out. Ha. This just makes it all nice and neat. My children do not know that I still have their teeth. I can’t give them back exactly, because I put them all in the same box. I guess I could at least show them what their teeth looked like. I am sure one of them will say “Gross” while the other one will think they are cool. In fact, knowing my daughter, she will want to keep them in her room “forever.” Maybe I should just throw them away someday while I am cleaning the bathroom….and then sell that diamond ring to replenish the money I lost as the Tooth Fairy. Grin!
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Thursday, October 14, 2010
Odd Things Happen
I am clumsy….awkward…a klutz…unwieldy…hmmm…I don’t know. I really don’t know the right term for me. I looked up the word “klutz” tonight and decided that maybe I didn’t like that definition. Here is what I found: “A clumsy or stupid person; an oaf; awkward, clumsy or socially inept.” Uhh, NO. I am not going to on purpose call myself stupid or socially inept! Ha. Therefore, I have to figure out a new term. I’m just not sure what that should be yet.
I am definitely someone who has interestingly odd things happen to her. I am not completely clumsy. In fact, in those times when you think that I am going to absolutely kill myself, I don’t do bad at all. For example, I climbed a 2-story ladder to clean out the gutters and had no problem other than getting winded climbing all of those rungs on the ladder. Another such situation happened last night. I was at a school football game, and it was raining. Right now I am on crutches due to a knee surgery on my right knee, and I have an ankle boot on my left leg because I sprained my ankle trying to do too much on my crutches. (Uh, did I mention clumsiness??) Before I left the game to go home, I wanted to say hi to a couple friends in the press box. This meant that I had to crutch up the wet metal stairs with my plastic/somewhat rubberized-bottom ankle boot. Weeeee! Can you see me flying backwards yet? Ha. I have to say that I did a fantastic job with only one wobble that had a few of the spectators gasping. I didn’t fall, although half of my friends (okay, more than half) would have expected me to do in this type of adventure. It is in the other times – those times that the rest of the world has no problems – that I have my “clumsy” moments. To help you get to know me better, I am going to write a few of these down. Honestly, they ALL did happen…to me!One of my earliest memories of odd things happening to me was in junior high. Ha, I guess I could say that there were several things that happened in junior high. Hmm, that might be part of the reason I am a middle school teacher now. I can prove to the students that stupid things can happen to them and they can SURVIVE. (grin) I remember my first day of junior high. I was scared to death! Somehow wild rumors had arrived at my doorstep that this new school that I was going to was filled with guns and knives. I went hoping that I could be some invisible fly on the wall. I also went on my bike – with bungee cords tying my school stuff on the back rack of my bike (yes, a bit geeky I admit). As I walked through the halls of my new (very scary) school, one of my bungee cords got a bit loose from my pile of stuff. I didn’t notice until I was jerked back a couple steps and heard a very deep voice yell, “Hey!” What I saw almost made me pee my pants! My bungee cord had hooked itself in the net shirt of the biggest, baddest, meanest-looking 9th grade boy I had ever seen. I thought I was going to DIE right there in the middle of the hall in front of everyone! I didn’t know if it was going to be a gun or a knife or a complete pounding. I was never going to see my family again!! “I, uh, I, uh…” – yes, I was not exactly known for my eloquence. I guess I wasn’t worth the violence. He unhooked himself, grunted, and walked away. I survived!! (And yes, I now tell that story to my students.)
Another day when I biked to school, I didn’t make it a half mile before I had another “Jen Moment” – yes, that is what we call them these days….even when someone else has something odd happen to them, we claim that it was a “Jen Moment”. Do you remember biking when you were a kid and getting your pants caught in the chain? That happened quite often to me. (Ok, I do have to admit that I was a kid in the 1970s – those of you who were in my generation may remember the bell-bottom pants. To those of you who don’t remember them…well…let’s just say that there was a ton of extra material down there to get caught in anything.) My mom made some Velcro contraption that wrapped around my pant leg to hold all the folds of the pant leg in one tight spot. It was a bit nerdy, though; so I didn’t always use it. I worked hard at making sure my pants stayed out of the chain. What I didn’t expect was my shoe lace to get tied around the pedal joint. Oh, this was crazy. Somehow my untied shoe lace got wrapped around the place where the pedal joins the bar that it is attached to. Every rotation of the pedal tightened my shoe and foot to the pedal. I think I panicked and couldn’t figure out what to do. Before I knew it, I was completely attached. I couldn’t pedal and I couldn’t put my foot down to the ground (because it was attached to the pedal). I did the only thing that could be done – I fell with the bike landing on top of me. There was a car behind me that saw me fall, and the person stopped to help. When he saw the problem, he pulled out a knife to cut my shoe from the pedal. This was the moment that the lady across the street decided to look out her door. Think about what she saw! Here I was pinned to the ground by my bike with a car right next to me, and the driver was pulling out his knife. Ha! We explained – no, I did not get hit….no, I am not hurt (and not about to get hurt)…yes, my shoe lace tied my foot to the bike! Who does this? I have never heard of this happening to anyone else!
I had another Jen Moment today! This morning after a doctor appointment, I decided to go get some breakfast at McDonalds. Alright, that isn’t very healthy, but I decided I needed a reward for getting up that early to see the doctor. (grin) One healthy thing I chose, though, was to have Ice Tea instead of Diet Coke. (Yes, diet coke is NOT so good for you as I once thought it was.) I paid at one window and then drove to the next window for my food and drink. I got my food and then was handed my drink. Unfortunately as I was grabbing the 32-ounce Styrofoam cup, my fingers sliced right through the cup. Immediately I had at least 16 ounces of tea and ice in my lap! The guy at the window just stared at me blindly. I think he was in shock. One of his co-workers came to help and gave me 2 inches of napkins! (Seriously!) I showed her the cup and she offered to give me a new drink in one of the plastic cups. Thanks! I got my drink, continued to dry shirt, pants, door, window, and even my hair. (Ok, HOW did my hair get wet??) When I got home, I did what you might expect someone to do that would get them in trouble – I walked with my crutches and had my drink balanced on the hand bar of the crutch with it being held in place by my fingers and arm. (Yes, talented….) That I did marvelously. When I stopped, though, and grabbed the cup to put it on the table, the lid of the cup popped off and I drenched the chair and the floor. Oh bother!! I hobbled over to the napkins and came back to clean of the mess. Thankfully this time only about an eighth of the fluid flew out. I sat down, breathed a sigh of relief, and proceeded to put one packet of sweetener in my drink. (I don’t like my ice tea without some sort of sweetness.) To my dismay, the drink fizzed when I stirred in the sweetener – I did not have ice tea! I had diet coke (or regular coke…not sure at this point). Are you kidding me??? Guess what. I wanted my caffeine bad enough and had gone through quite an adventure just to get my drink, that I drank it anyway!! Yep, coke with sweetener….Yummm! (Honestly….not so yummm….but who cares at this point! Ha.)
I have never outgrown having weird and odd things happen to me! I have tons of similar stories, and I wish that someday I could get them all written down in a book. The question is this – would anyone ever read the book or would it just be good therapy for me to write them down?? Who knows? I think I will keep writing them and see what happens in the future. Cheers!
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Tuesday, October 12, 2010
I Can't Spell
I can’t spell. Really. I can’t. I tell people that I am a math teacher…I don’t need to spell. (ha) Now, I am not as bad as some people, but there are a bunch who can beat my socks off if there was a spell bowl in real life. And this comes from someone who got 5th place in her elementary spell bowl. That doesn’t count though. An elementary spell bowl is more about if you can memorize the words in that little book they handed out to anyone who was interested in competing. Here’s proof: I could remember the second “n” in environment, but they caught me off-guard when they gave me a practice word that was not from the book – Pencil. Yep, I got that one wrong! Thank goodness that didn’t push me off the stage. Maybe it should have as I confidently and loudly said in front of ALL the other students and parents, “OH, that’s easy. P-E-N-S-I-L.” Oh my!
Thank goodness for spell check in my word documents and emails. Spell check does not solve everything, though. What about those misspellings that are they themselves words? For example, messing up one word (such couch and coach) can sometimes radically change a sentence: I slept on my couch last night VS I slept on my coach last night. (uh oh!) I KNOW I am not the only one that has done this (not the sleeping but the using the wrong word). I bet many of you have too. I have one friend who writes for an online sports site. For a small time, he kept typing “filed goal” instead of “field goal”. I guess one gives you 3 points and the other one is what my student try to make when they throw their wadded pieces of paper in my file #13 (my trash can). Just recently I had a facebook friend who meant to say she wanted a good mattress to sleep on, but she forgot an “o” – what she really wrote was that she wanted a God mattress. Hmm, as she mentioned later, maybe that would give her the heavenly sleep she was hoping for.
Years ago, I taught keyboarding and word processing to middle school students. During the word processing phase, I made it mandatory that the students use the spell check program that came with the software. They did, but…. Well, it doesn’t help if you misspell a word and then are given a variety of choices for what the program thinks is the word you were supposed to spell. If you can’t spell, chances are high that you might not pick the right word. My students’ papers could be pretty funny at times. Finally I got smart and started writing some of these errors down for future fun. That fun is finally here (well, at least for me…it might not be funny to anyone else…which in itself is kinda funny). :-)
Students' Spell Checking Gone Wrong:
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Thank goodness for spell check in my word documents and emails. Spell check does not solve everything, though. What about those misspellings that are they themselves words? For example, messing up one word (such couch and coach) can sometimes radically change a sentence: I slept on my couch last night VS I slept on my coach last night. (uh oh!) I KNOW I am not the only one that has done this (not the sleeping but the using the wrong word). I bet many of you have too. I have one friend who writes for an online sports site. For a small time, he kept typing “filed goal” instead of “field goal”. I guess one gives you 3 points and the other one is what my student try to make when they throw their wadded pieces of paper in my file #13 (my trash can). Just recently I had a facebook friend who meant to say she wanted a good mattress to sleep on, but she forgot an “o” – what she really wrote was that she wanted a God mattress. Hmm, as she mentioned later, maybe that would give her the heavenly sleep she was hoping for.
Years ago, I taught keyboarding and word processing to middle school students. During the word processing phase, I made it mandatory that the students use the spell check program that came with the software. They did, but…. Well, it doesn’t help if you misspell a word and then are given a variety of choices for what the program thinks is the word you were supposed to spell. If you can’t spell, chances are high that you might not pick the right word. My students’ papers could be pretty funny at times. Finally I got smart and started writing some of these errors down for future fun. That fun is finally here (well, at least for me…it might not be funny to anyone else…which in itself is kinda funny). :-)
Students' Spell Checking Gone Wrong:
- When I was eleven years old, I was adapted. (Really, do you have wings now??)
- They were dancing with some fine grills. (That’s what happens when you forget to invite girls to the barbeque party.)
- They had all sores of drinks. (Ouch…that’s all I’m going to say. Ouch.)
- Do you remember the 1993 Super Bowel? (Hopefully that person used the Super Toilet.)
- They beat the Reds 3-2 in the World Serious. (This reminds me of the game I used to play with my kids that always made them giggle – “Don’t Smile!”)
- The fans are about to lose their team sprite. (Woohoo for 7-UP!)
- She thinks it’s a cereal killer. (That’s who smashed all my frosted flakes on the ground!)
- I was able to feed my sister and change her dippers. (I don’t have a clue what to say about this one other than maybe that is where all the fluids came from that were in the diaper.)
- I like breading my sister’s hair. (Ok, that’s just gross!)
- He’s not very happy go lucy. (or Mary, or Amanda or Fred….)
- It removes nasty germs such as plaque, gingivitis, calculus, cavities and much more. (And all of the math students celebrated! By the way, I do not know what this student was trying to write instead of calculus.)
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Friday, October 8, 2010
Have you Facebook Poked yourself recently?
I am a facebook fanatic! I really don’t know why. Maybe because I am addicted to Bejewelled….maybe because I had my first kiss in 8 years (and had a fantastic summer) due to a reconnection through facebook….or maybe because I love to stalk people. HA. Actually, I am a people person living life as a very busy single mom who doesn’t get out much. Facebook is one way to at least feel like I am connecting with more people in a day. I love how I have been able to connect with friends all over the US that at one time or another I had lost contact with.
I throw snowballs, have pillow fights, and give hearts. I was even poking one friend back and forth this summer. Have you ever poked someone on facebook? You go to their profile and somewhere under your friend’s profile picture there is a place to click “Poke So-and-so”. You can even poke people that you have not friended yet. (I wonder how many people do random pokings?? Ha) There is only one person you cannot poke: yourself. Try it – I can’t figure out how to start a poking war with yourself. But it has happened! I have NO idea how it happened. (I am trying to figure out if this is connected in any way to my klutziness.) Yesterday when I got on facebook, I noticed that I had poked myself….and then I had the opportunity to poke myself back! What a riot! So I did!!
I don’t know why this is cracking me up so much. Periodically through the day I poke myself … I’m in a poking war with myself! The messages that come up hit my funny bone too. “You are about to poke yourself” (like I need a warning) and “You have poked yourself.” I could cancel this poking war….but I haven’t done so yet. Pathetic! Ha. I wonder what Freud would say. When I was poking my friend this summer, he said “ouch”. “No,” I said. “My pokes are really just hugs.” With that in mind, I am not having a poking war; I’m just hugging myself! Well, I guess that isn’t the worst thing a person could do. Grin. Some Exercise Motivation....or something....
I wrote this 5 1/2 years ago...
March 8, 2005: Lately I have been trying to exercise for at least 45 minutes at the YMCA every day during the work week (something pretty much mandated by my doctor). I have been fairly consistent and I actually enjoy it. Seriously, I do. I haven’t seen much in results yet. After 11 days I have lost 2 ½ pounds and 1 ½ inches – ½ inch around my thigh (yeah), ½ inch around my breast and ½ inch around the place just under my breast. So here I am, size 48 negative A, and I loose an inch where I can’t hardly afford to loose an inch!!! Oh dear. Well-meaning friends tell me that I am building muscle right now. So Muggers, watch out. I can not outrun you, but I can LIFT you! …Sit on you is more like it. :)
If I am not swimming laps in the pool, then I am in the big area with all of the exercise machines. Due to my bad back, my favorite choice of exercise bikes is the recumbant bike…not because its name means that this bike has anything to do with resting. This bike has a “normal” seat with a back – not one of those seats that pushes your underwear in places it should not go. It also has handles down by the seat – no more stretching across the whole bike to hold onto bars near the front wheel. This machine has all the pieces of information that you would want…or don’t want. First of all, how come is it that I can work hard for 45 minutes and only burn 234 calories?? That’s okay. I heard one time from someone that you continue to burn calories at a higher rate a few hours after exercising. Whether that is true or not, I choose to believe it. So that’s when I eat all my candy – right after exercise. NO!! Actually, I have been fairly good with food choices since I have started this exercise journey. At 234 calories lost per 45 minutes, I either need to exercise all day long OR slow down in the calorie intake. This machine will also tell you your heart rate (through the handle bars), what level of resistance you chose, and how many RPMs you are doing (how fast your are going, I believe).
Many women don’t exercise because, basically, it hurts or because it is time-consuming OR because of those OTHER women. If you are skinny and beautiful, I am sorry for anything I might write in the next few minutes that might offend you. You’re skinny, get over it! Yes, I had one of those “moments” today. I’m biking away on my recumbant bike – level 3 at 95 rpms. Then she comes – Skinny Lady. Not only that, but she was wearing the exercise world’s version of a bra and panties! Now, if this was August and outside, I could understand. But we are in the middle of winter, it’s 25 degrees outside and it is SNOWING! Where does she choose to exercise? On the bike next to me. After 15 minutes of exercise, I was not looking my best. Consider the pair we made.
"And in this corner we have at (well, let's just say MANY) pounds, almost 39 years old, wearing black sweatpants that are baggy at the top, tight around the calves & a few inches above the ankles (flood stage) and wearing an old gray t-shirt that shows sweat in various locations and finally with sweaty hair swinging in her face…Jenny! And in the other corner we have at half the size of Jen, somewhere in her 20s, with a perky ponytail, wearing a bright red, orange and pink halter top that would make most guys sweat with matching short shorts and tanned skin everywhere else…the Skinny Lady!”
So I did what I do sometimes when I think I have the right to compare myself to others – I peaked at her level and rpms. Level 8 – ouch. RPMS – only 65. Ah, minor victory for me! And then, less than 10 minutes later, she gets off the bike and walks over to another exercise area. The naughty little girl inside of me cheered – “Neener neener neener. I lasted longer than you did!” Isn’t that bad!! I do that all the time. I encourage myself by seeing if I can outlast everyone else. Good or bad, it has helped remove an inch from my breast….oh…wait…! Of course, her little victory was walking out of the weight area ten minutes later with a hunky weight-lifter-type guy.
After my 45 minutes of biking, I dripped myself out of the exercise area and saw Skinny Lady again…this time playing ping-pong with Mr. Hunky…and still showing off her middle between her colorful underwear sports clothes. I covered my sweaty t-shirt with an old sweatshirt and went to pick up my daughter from the child watch center. As Rachel and I walked out to the car hand in hand, I realized that success was mine. Not only do I have much more energy to spend time with my children, but the Lord blessed me with two of the most wonderful children I know. Exercising so that I can spend more active times with them is worth the times I have to exercise beside those “other” women!
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March 8, 2005: Lately I have been trying to exercise for at least 45 minutes at the YMCA every day during the work week (something pretty much mandated by my doctor). I have been fairly consistent and I actually enjoy it. Seriously, I do. I haven’t seen much in results yet. After 11 days I have lost 2 ½ pounds and 1 ½ inches – ½ inch around my thigh (yeah), ½ inch around my breast and ½ inch around the place just under my breast. So here I am, size 48 negative A, and I loose an inch where I can’t hardly afford to loose an inch!!! Oh dear. Well-meaning friends tell me that I am building muscle right now. So Muggers, watch out. I can not outrun you, but I can LIFT you! …Sit on you is more like it. :)
If I am not swimming laps in the pool, then I am in the big area with all of the exercise machines. Due to my bad back, my favorite choice of exercise bikes is the recumbant bike…not because its name means that this bike has anything to do with resting. This bike has a “normal” seat with a back – not one of those seats that pushes your underwear in places it should not go. It also has handles down by the seat – no more stretching across the whole bike to hold onto bars near the front wheel. This machine has all the pieces of information that you would want…or don’t want. First of all, how come is it that I can work hard for 45 minutes and only burn 234 calories?? That’s okay. I heard one time from someone that you continue to burn calories at a higher rate a few hours after exercising. Whether that is true or not, I choose to believe it. So that’s when I eat all my candy – right after exercise. NO!! Actually, I have been fairly good with food choices since I have started this exercise journey. At 234 calories lost per 45 minutes, I either need to exercise all day long OR slow down in the calorie intake. This machine will also tell you your heart rate (through the handle bars), what level of resistance you chose, and how many RPMs you are doing (how fast your are going, I believe).
Many women don’t exercise because, basically, it hurts or because it is time-consuming OR because of those OTHER women. If you are skinny and beautiful, I am sorry for anything I might write in the next few minutes that might offend you. You’re skinny, get over it! Yes, I had one of those “moments” today. I’m biking away on my recumbant bike – level 3 at 95 rpms. Then she comes – Skinny Lady. Not only that, but she was wearing the exercise world’s version of a bra and panties! Now, if this was August and outside, I could understand. But we are in the middle of winter, it’s 25 degrees outside and it is SNOWING! Where does she choose to exercise? On the bike next to me. After 15 minutes of exercise, I was not looking my best. Consider the pair we made.
"And in this corner we have at (well, let's just say MANY) pounds, almost 39 years old, wearing black sweatpants that are baggy at the top, tight around the calves & a few inches above the ankles (flood stage) and wearing an old gray t-shirt that shows sweat in various locations and finally with sweaty hair swinging in her face…Jenny! And in the other corner we have at half the size of Jen, somewhere in her 20s, with a perky ponytail, wearing a bright red, orange and pink halter top that would make most guys sweat with matching short shorts and tanned skin everywhere else…the Skinny Lady!”
So I did what I do sometimes when I think I have the right to compare myself to others – I peaked at her level and rpms. Level 8 – ouch. RPMS – only 65. Ah, minor victory for me! And then, less than 10 minutes later, she gets off the bike and walks over to another exercise area. The naughty little girl inside of me cheered – “Neener neener neener. I lasted longer than you did!” Isn’t that bad!! I do that all the time. I encourage myself by seeing if I can outlast everyone else. Good or bad, it has helped remove an inch from my breast….oh…wait…! Of course, her little victory was walking out of the weight area ten minutes later with a hunky weight-lifter-type guy.
After my 45 minutes of biking, I dripped myself out of the exercise area and saw Skinny Lady again…this time playing ping-pong with Mr. Hunky…and still showing off her middle between her colorful underwear sports clothes. I covered my sweaty t-shirt with an old sweatshirt and went to pick up my daughter from the child watch center. As Rachel and I walked out to the car hand in hand, I realized that success was mine. Not only do I have much more energy to spend time with my children, but the Lord blessed me with two of the most wonderful children I know. Exercising so that I can spend more active times with them is worth the times I have to exercise beside those “other” women!
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My Blood Story
How’s that for a title to grab your attention? I’m laughing at myself (shaking my head in wonder) and thought maybe I could bring you a smile too. This really did happen. It happened June 2006, and this is the note I wrote to my friends that day. Enjoy!
I gave blood today…lots of it. I know -- some of you who know me best just got very worried. No, I didn’t make any trips to the hospital and my skin is still intact. I actually donated my blood. It’s been a long time since I have done this. In fact, I had no idea that I was going to do this when I woke up in the morning. The Red Cross was at the place where I work and some happy voice over the intercom suggested we go give blood if we were able. Hmmm, time away from my computer and a chance to be social - sounds like a great idea. So you might think that I feel excited now to have been able to help out; proud, generous, happy, patriotic, etc… I have none of that. There are four words that keep going through my head – WHAT WAS I THINKING?!? When I picked up my kids after work, I described the procedure to my kids like this, “See this hole in Mommy’s arm. This is where blood came out. Then they filled a bag, kinda like a Ziploc bag but bigger, with my blood.” (I even raised my hand and wiggled a pretend blood-filled Ziploc bag for effect.) “Ehhh,” said my children. Yep. (I think I forgot to tell them about the needle and the tube. I can only imagine the picture in their heads.)
I’m not trying to convince anyone to run away from giving blood. I’m just challenging the wisdom of ME giving blood. I am also 20 years older than the last time I gave blood. I’m not sure how such a renegade thought made it to the action part of my brain – “go, give blood, what’s it gonna hurt?” I tried to encourage a friend to come give with me. He was smart – he didn’t come. He admitted he was too scared. Even my own blood pressure tried to change my mind – sitting at an uncommonly high 140 over 96 (and this without being nervous). But no…I was ready. I’ve never fainted during blood donations to the Red Cross….only to blood donations to my doctor’s office…and that was just once after very little sleep and no food. Oh, hmmm. I only had 5 hours of sleep last night and a small breakfast several hours ago. No problem!
So how did I do, you ask? I did very well sitting in the waiting area for 45 minutes. My only nervousness was about how long I was away from my desk. I knew some of the guys around me and it was funny to watch how nervous they were. Some shook their feet, some shook their whole leg, some tapped their fingers and one guy could not stop talking. For most of them, this was their first time. They had heard horror stories of people feeling nauseas and fainting. Thank goodness these guys were in front of me in line! I didn’t end up being the best poster child for blood donating. During the fact-finding stage (full of questions), the nurse tried to find me in the computer system. Did they have computer records 20 years ago? While looking for me, I had them check for me under my maiden name. They couldn’t find me; therefore, they keyed me in as a new victim (patient). Somehow through all of this, I was registered as Jennifer Diller (my maiden name). It took them what seemed like forever to try to change my last name. At this point I didn’t care – just take my blood! The guys that I knew in line got further ahead of me…thankfully. This way they were done and gone before my performance. When it was my turn to join the circle of blood givers, I hopped into my chair with confidence. My only problem was that after an hour and fifteen minutes of waiting, I really needed to use the bathroom. But of course, I decided it could wait. (And no, this story does not end with me soiling anything!) The nurse shoved the needle in my arm (yes, it hurt) and let the blood start flowing through the tube into the “Ziploc Bag”. (No, I did not look. That would have guaranteed fainting.) I had my choice of orange juice, Pepsi, or tomato juice. Tomato Juice? Now, why would you want to drink anything thick and red while giving blood?? Seriously! I sipped my Pepsi and watched the other four contestants (including one cute guy across the way) give their blood.
My bag was almost full when my body decided I had given enough. By now it had been almost five hours since I had eaten. The nurse was actually relieving me of my needle when things started to go wrong. I felt icky, and I tried to tell myself it was all in my head. I believe I moaned out loud. That’s when I was asked if I wanted my chair to lie back and if I wanted another Pepsi. Sure. I hoped that the Pepsi would fix everything. But as I started to feel hopeful, I watched in agony as the Red Cross volunteer (the only one with a walker) tried to carry my open cup of Pepsi in one hand and slowly push her walker with the other. (No kidding.) I also knew there was a thick power cord between her and me that she would have to maneuver around. I think I moaned again. Then that fainting feeling started closing in. That’s a horrible feeling. I just wanted to lie down, and I told the nurse as much. Next thing I know, they are bringing “the chair”. They moved me from the blood donating chair to a huge, orange, we-now-have-everyone’s-attention-including-the-cute-guy-across-the-way chair. This chair was actually a padded version of a utility dolly. I was tipped backward and rolled to a cot. Once on the cot with a fan blowing directly on me, I started to feel better. At this point, I really just wanted to take a long nap. They stationed a nurse beside me armed with more Pepsi and a couple cookies. It took some time before I could sit up and some more before I knew my legs would hold me. My urgency in trying to get better was increasing…the almost fainting did nothing to relieve my earlier bladder pressure. A trip to the bathroom finally won over the fear of fainting once I left the room, and I was off.
The “I must be minutes from a heart attack” feeling never went away today. I used the elevator at work for the very first time since I started…used it twice. I did go up the stairs once and thought I was going to have to curl up under my desk for a few minutes. The guys who were in the waiting area with me never knew that although I was braver than them before the task, I had such an event afterwards. The friend that I tried to convince to give blood with me asked through an interoffice online chat message how it went. “Peachy,” I said. He’s never given blood before, and I didn’t want to scare him anymore than he already was.
There you have it! Will I ever give blood again? Not unless it is VERY important. I’ll leave that job for those in their 20s! I hope you had as much fun reading about my adventure as I had recalling it.
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I gave blood today…lots of it. I know -- some of you who know me best just got very worried. No, I didn’t make any trips to the hospital and my skin is still intact. I actually donated my blood. It’s been a long time since I have done this. In fact, I had no idea that I was going to do this when I woke up in the morning. The Red Cross was at the place where I work and some happy voice over the intercom suggested we go give blood if we were able. Hmmm, time away from my computer and a chance to be social - sounds like a great idea. So you might think that I feel excited now to have been able to help out; proud, generous, happy, patriotic, etc… I have none of that. There are four words that keep going through my head – WHAT WAS I THINKING?!? When I picked up my kids after work, I described the procedure to my kids like this, “See this hole in Mommy’s arm. This is where blood came out. Then they filled a bag, kinda like a Ziploc bag but bigger, with my blood.” (I even raised my hand and wiggled a pretend blood-filled Ziploc bag for effect.) “Ehhh,” said my children. Yep. (I think I forgot to tell them about the needle and the tube. I can only imagine the picture in their heads.)
I’m not trying to convince anyone to run away from giving blood. I’m just challenging the wisdom of ME giving blood. I am also 20 years older than the last time I gave blood. I’m not sure how such a renegade thought made it to the action part of my brain – “go, give blood, what’s it gonna hurt?” I tried to encourage a friend to come give with me. He was smart – he didn’t come. He admitted he was too scared. Even my own blood pressure tried to change my mind – sitting at an uncommonly high 140 over 96 (and this without being nervous). But no…I was ready. I’ve never fainted during blood donations to the Red Cross….only to blood donations to my doctor’s office…and that was just once after very little sleep and no food. Oh, hmmm. I only had 5 hours of sleep last night and a small breakfast several hours ago. No problem!
So how did I do, you ask? I did very well sitting in the waiting area for 45 minutes. My only nervousness was about how long I was away from my desk. I knew some of the guys around me and it was funny to watch how nervous they were. Some shook their feet, some shook their whole leg, some tapped their fingers and one guy could not stop talking. For most of them, this was their first time. They had heard horror stories of people feeling nauseas and fainting. Thank goodness these guys were in front of me in line! I didn’t end up being the best poster child for blood donating. During the fact-finding stage (full of questions), the nurse tried to find me in the computer system. Did they have computer records 20 years ago? While looking for me, I had them check for me under my maiden name. They couldn’t find me; therefore, they keyed me in as a new victim (patient). Somehow through all of this, I was registered as Jennifer Diller (my maiden name). It took them what seemed like forever to try to change my last name. At this point I didn’t care – just take my blood! The guys that I knew in line got further ahead of me…thankfully. This way they were done and gone before my performance. When it was my turn to join the circle of blood givers, I hopped into my chair with confidence. My only problem was that after an hour and fifteen minutes of waiting, I really needed to use the bathroom. But of course, I decided it could wait. (And no, this story does not end with me soiling anything!) The nurse shoved the needle in my arm (yes, it hurt) and let the blood start flowing through the tube into the “Ziploc Bag”. (No, I did not look. That would have guaranteed fainting.) I had my choice of orange juice, Pepsi, or tomato juice. Tomato Juice? Now, why would you want to drink anything thick and red while giving blood?? Seriously! I sipped my Pepsi and watched the other four contestants (including one cute guy across the way) give their blood.
My bag was almost full when my body decided I had given enough. By now it had been almost five hours since I had eaten. The nurse was actually relieving me of my needle when things started to go wrong. I felt icky, and I tried to tell myself it was all in my head. I believe I moaned out loud. That’s when I was asked if I wanted my chair to lie back and if I wanted another Pepsi. Sure. I hoped that the Pepsi would fix everything. But as I started to feel hopeful, I watched in agony as the Red Cross volunteer (the only one with a walker) tried to carry my open cup of Pepsi in one hand and slowly push her walker with the other. (No kidding.) I also knew there was a thick power cord between her and me that she would have to maneuver around. I think I moaned again. Then that fainting feeling started closing in. That’s a horrible feeling. I just wanted to lie down, and I told the nurse as much. Next thing I know, they are bringing “the chair”. They moved me from the blood donating chair to a huge, orange, we-now-have-everyone’s-attention-including-the-cute-guy-across-the-way chair. This chair was actually a padded version of a utility dolly. I was tipped backward and rolled to a cot. Once on the cot with a fan blowing directly on me, I started to feel better. At this point, I really just wanted to take a long nap. They stationed a nurse beside me armed with more Pepsi and a couple cookies. It took some time before I could sit up and some more before I knew my legs would hold me. My urgency in trying to get better was increasing…the almost fainting did nothing to relieve my earlier bladder pressure. A trip to the bathroom finally won over the fear of fainting once I left the room, and I was off.
The “I must be minutes from a heart attack” feeling never went away today. I used the elevator at work for the very first time since I started…used it twice. I did go up the stairs once and thought I was going to have to curl up under my desk for a few minutes. The guys who were in the waiting area with me never knew that although I was braver than them before the task, I had such an event afterwards. The friend that I tried to convince to give blood with me asked through an interoffice online chat message how it went. “Peachy,” I said. He’s never given blood before, and I didn’t want to scare him anymore than he already was.
There you have it! Will I ever give blood again? Not unless it is VERY important. I’ll leave that job for those in their 20s! I hope you had as much fun reading about my adventure as I had recalling it.
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I have been Challenged!
Not only have I been Challenged -- I have been Triple Dog Dared!!!
(Thank you very much Jack!)
I have enjoyed writing since I was a kid. As I got older (and married) I channeled my writing into letters that I sent my family and friends. Many friends have encouraged me to write that book someday that I would love to have on the shelves of every store. I'm not a fiction writer, that's for sure. I'm more of a "Can you even believe this actually happened?" type of writer......and I have so much personal experience in the "can you believe" arena. So many silly, klutzy, stupid things have happened to me or I have done. When the humor bug hits, I can have so much fun with these things! I am going to post one such thing in a minute -- my Blood story (no, it isn't too gross). That'll give you an idea of how I like to see the funny things in life (or at least roll my eyes at myself. ha).
I may also post what I wrote on my facebook about Exercise. That is what Jack read when he suggested I start regularly blogging. Oh! That was the challenge. I have been challenged to write to my blog every few days or so. I don't know if I can do that, but I'm going to try. Shouldn't be too difficult right now just because I am on leave from work due to recovering from knee surgery. It might be a fun diversion.
I'm not married anymore. I am a single mom with two almost-teen children. (That too should provide something to write about at times. grin) I don't know if anyone will ever read what I write, but at the very least I will have a spot that I can gather all of my writings for that book I want to write someday. If you are here and reading my posts, my biggest hope is that you leave with a smile on your face!
(Thank you very much Jack!)
I have enjoyed writing since I was a kid. As I got older (and married) I channeled my writing into letters that I sent my family and friends. Many friends have encouraged me to write that book someday that I would love to have on the shelves of every store. I'm not a fiction writer, that's for sure. I'm more of a "Can you even believe this actually happened?" type of writer......and I have so much personal experience in the "can you believe" arena. So many silly, klutzy, stupid things have happened to me or I have done. When the humor bug hits, I can have so much fun with these things! I am going to post one such thing in a minute -- my Blood story (no, it isn't too gross). That'll give you an idea of how I like to see the funny things in life (or at least roll my eyes at myself. ha).
I may also post what I wrote on my facebook about Exercise. That is what Jack read when he suggested I start regularly blogging. Oh! That was the challenge. I have been challenged to write to my blog every few days or so. I don't know if I can do that, but I'm going to try. Shouldn't be too difficult right now just because I am on leave from work due to recovering from knee surgery. It might be a fun diversion.
I'm not married anymore. I am a single mom with two almost-teen children. (That too should provide something to write about at times. grin) I don't know if anyone will ever read what I write, but at the very least I will have a spot that I can gather all of my writings for that book I want to write someday. If you are here and reading my posts, my biggest hope is that you leave with a smile on your face!
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