Santa Claus is a Mean Old Man

So we watched Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer last night.  I've watched it every year since I was a kid and now we watch it as a family.  It has always been one of my favorite holiday cartoons (the original Grinch will always be number one) but there are a few things that I have never noticed that I did this time around (the red wine I drank while watching it may have helped my perception).  

There is a lot of fuss made about the island of misfit toys and the need for Santa to come to them and rescue them and deliver them to children so they can be loved. And, there is a lion who is king of the island and has a pretty awesome throne to prove it, which we see when he holds court and welcomes the distinguished visitors, who are only allowed to stay one night because they are not toys (which quite frankly seems a little odd to me since he is a flying lion so clearly there is some wiggle room in the rules).  Am I the only one wondering why this king of the island who cares so much about the toys can't do something (anything) to help them?  He has wings - can't he fly a few places (you know, like the North Pole to see Santa himself) and rustle up some support?  Or if that’s too much effort, maybe he could take a minute or two out of his day to write a letter to Santa and ask him to come there and get them (kids everyday write letters to Santa and a flying lion king can't do it to help his people)?  Try a little diplomacy and make a deal.  He's apparently constantly out there finding these toys; maybe it's time to balance the work schedule with a little time finding them homes.  I think they should stage a coup because at best he is a really bad king and at worst he is hoarding them there for reasons I care not to imagine.

I'm also wondering what the Abominable Snowman eats and how he got so big.  He is all over the North Pole (every ten seconds in the show he is roaring and then peering over a snow hill) and yet, despite the warnings and their fear of him, I don’t think he is chowing down on reindeer.  He is clearly an awful hunter.  His cave isn't littered with reindeer bones and when he does get his hands on a few of them (after they have apparently been wandering the area for like a year - what took him so long to catch them?) he doesn’t even know what to do with them.  I understand this is a kid’s show, but I need something to fill in the logic gap.  He’s huge!

But, the biggest surprise of all – and the one I can’t believe I didn’t notice before now – is what an unbelievable prick Santa Claus is.  Yes, you heard my snarky self right – Santa Claus is a mean old man.  Consider the evidence:

·        He shows up at what is apparently one of his best and longest serving reindeer’s homes to meet his newly born son and, to paraphrase, tells him “your kid sucks because of his red nose and if it stays that way I want nothing to do with him.” 

·        When the sweet little elves sing Santa a song written just for him, he squirms through the whole thing like he is being tortured and when it is over, cruelly announces it needs work. 

·        Upon seeing Rudolph fly at the reindeer games, he thinks he’s pretty good until he sees his nose is still red, at which point he thinks he sucks again and wants nothing to do with him no matter how well he flies (pardon me Santa, but that’s discrimination). 

·        Poor little Rudolph finally comes home after being gone for a year and Santa, in a moment of oddly weird timing, pops in at Rudolph’s home and bluntly tells him his Dad, Mom and girlfriend are all missing since they went looking for his ass.  Just as you think he is about to exhibit a bit of concern over their fates, you find out he really only wants them back because Christmas is in two days and he needs the Dad to fly the sleigh.  So much for oddly weird timing – he’s probably stalking the place wondering how someone could go looking for his son when *Santa* needs him.  Well, color Santa selfish.

Even at the end when everyone has realized how badly they treated Rudolph and they shouldn’t have been so awful, Santa never really regretted his actions or apologized.  In fact, he only accepted him because he could do something for him – fly his sleigh in the snow.  If there hadn’t been a snowstorm, and if he hadn't needed him to save his job, Santa would have never hired Rudolph and his big old nose.  And I’m guessing he was never lead reindeer again.

In fact, now that I think about it, I probably judged the Flying Lion King too harshly.  He clearly knew the real Santa and to this day is wondering what exactly that little red nosed reindeer had to do to get that mean bastard to his island to pick up some ugly toys that couldn’t do anything for him. Jolly old St. Nick?  I don't think so.

Flying the Friendly Skies

I recently had the opportunity to do some air travel for a business/pleasure trip.  Now, I've been flying for a couple of decades now.  I'm not an avid traveler but I usually do at least one flight a year and I have to say, things just keep going downhill.

First of all, let me be clear that the skies are still pretty friendly.  The airline employees are nice for the most part, on the ground and in the air.  Every once in a while you get a nasty steward/ess, who is clearly having a bad day but since there is a 95% chance their bad day was caused by a nasty person on the plane (what is up with all the nasty people?), I'm not holding it against them.  

Now, I'm not really going to address some of the silly security rules in which I can't bring a bottle of my own water with me but then when I get thirsty inside I am charged $5 for essentially 5 sips of Poland Spring.  Nor am I going to wonder what people are thinking in their choice of footwear when they must (must!) know they are going to have to take their shoes off with 40 angry people right behind them (today was not the day to try the knee high lace up boots that can't be pulled off) nor why they don't step aside for a second and let those of us wearing laceless loafers slide by.  I'm not going to wonder why I pay hundreds of dollars to fly and then have to pay extra to bring my bag with me.   Nor am I going to complain about how they no longer serve food on planes.  Do you even remember how bad it tasted?  Why would we want that back?

No, I really just want to talk about the absolutely awful policies and procedures the airlines have in place.  It used to be that I checked my bag at the curb, gave the nice guy a few bucks and I was done. I had my boarding pass in hand and was relieved of my giant suitcase without having to take it very far at all (depending on where my ride dropped me, we could be talking 5 feet maximum).  Damn that was easy.  Now I have to cart it all the way inside and regardless of how I check in, I need to bring it myself over to the giant x-ray machine or whatever that is.

Particularly special this time around was when on the return flight, I used a self-serve kiosk to avoid the long check-in line (there were only a few people on line for the kiosk - hello efficiency!).  Upon completion in less than ten minutes (line and check-in!) the computer told me to bring my bag to baggage check-in.  I did not immediately see where that might be and asked the very friendly employee whose sole job seemed to be standing there in case anyone had any questions.  Turns out the baggage check-in was the same place as regular check-in, so I ended up getting my ass on that line after all - I just delayed it by a now completely wasted ten minutes.  Goodbye efficiency! Why was the super friendly employee not spending his time telling people not to waste theirs at the kiosk if they planned to check baggage?  I appreciate friendly even more when it is remotely helpful to me.  Meanwhile I should note that after all this time I am still carting my bag with me and I assume at some point I'll have to lift it onto some conveyor belt somewhere.

Yet, nothing (nothing!) in the airline experience beats the extraordinarily inept and unorganized boarding procedures.  I have no idea what they are doing here and, I suspect, neither do they.  First they make what seems like 40 announcements for special groups to board first.  First class, business class, gold class, silver class, purple class, blue class; eventually they get around to people needing assistance (yes that's right, they come after the special paying more people).  I appreciate wanting to reward your most valued customers but if they include 75% of the plane it's really not a reward and it's definitely not a benefit to anyone.  Finally, for the 20 of us who still haven't boarded, they use the very logical Groups 1-4.  It takes about a minute for them to zoom through all four groups and move us to the boarding queue where it would seem 80% of the passengers who have already "boarded" are waiting in the always cold walkway thing to the plane.  This line eventually brings me to Thunderdome.  

People fill the aisles (let's take a moment to once again acknowledge the completely ineffective boarding procedures) attempting to shove huge pieces of luggage into already full overheads (when did people start refusing to check *anything*).  They are moving around their fellow passengers stuff with apparently no concern for the owners (I surely don't hear a single "is this yours?") nor for the contents.  I am talking no concern whatsoever.  "Hmmmm I need about 10 more inches of space to fit my huge bag and make sure it has a buffer zone so nothing else touches it or the very valuable items inside - I think I can squoosh this bag here into the corner if I fold it in three - yikes that didn't sound good - better increase that buffer zone so the broken glass doesn't touch my very valuable stuff."   Lest you think asking a steward/ess to help would lessen the damage - nope.  They come along and do the same thing - just in half the time thanks to their experience - and then "wham" they sure do slam that overhead shut.  Lest you think you might open a closed one in search of space - don't...they spot that from thirty feet down the aisle.  "That one is FULL.  Don't open it."  Do not mess with onboard personnel who can smell an imminent take off and will likely hear it from the pilot if they screw up his on-time percentages.

Back in the dark ages when I began to fly they used the incredibly simplistic order of families with kids, first class and then coach starting with the back of the plane.  I always thought this was a pretty logical boarding concept that minimized aisle blocking and perhaps I'm being overly nostalgic but I recall getting on the plane a lot more quickly and people having a lot less trouble getting overhead space.  (Of course this might have also been due to the fact that people didn't carry everything they own onto the plane).   In fact, I seem to recall the only times it didn't work were when the airline employees didn't enforce the row boarding numbers. 

So I have a suggestion.  I say we return to the back to front boarding process, and make the skies a little *less* friendly.  I want fewer smiles, less customer rewards and more "Rows 21 and above only right now!  Wait your turn!"   I might even be okay with a taser or two for any row 10 people who try to sneak on early.  The airlines can make extra money selling the seats in the back (aren't they the safer ones anyways?) and if they are really smart they can add a door in the back so they let them off first as well.  

This is what's known as a win-win solution.  You are welcome airlines!

Look to the LIRR to Understand the Government Shut Down

Now this is not intended to be a political blog, but the whole government shutdown thing is so pervasive that I can't ignore it.  It would seem the country has gone crazy, and it is impossible to understand how a group of elected officials...adults...are unable to use their words to talk to one another and do their jobs.  Regardless of how one feels politically, it would seem pretty evident that there is a smallish group making it impossible to find a resolution (this probably tells you my political position but if you want, it is vague enough that you could apply it to the other side or as some are doing, consider it to be one supremely powerful individual at fault).  In the end, most people would like to bring this to an end and return our government to its usual and customary position of being *open* and doing nothing .  Sure, it's not particularly productive but at least people are getting paid and can support the economy by going shopping.

Now you may wonder how it could be that such a small group would be so willing to be so concerned about what they want as to seem careless about others' situations.  I do not wonder for I ride the LIRR every day and have seen things that make this all entirely possible.

People are aghast that Congress could stick so many people out in the cold without their jobs and without access to the fun part of government (the parks and the memorials to just name a couple) while continuing to go to work and collect their paychecks without seemingly a care in the world.  This barely registers for me as a seasoned traveler on the LIRR.  When there is a serious shutdown of service, whether due to weather or just ongoing crappy service and equipment issues, there is usually a quote from someone in the upper management levels of the LIRR about how they care and it affects them too and they are doing what they can to make it better for their valued customers, both regular and those heading in to see the awesome sights of the greatest city on earth (or heading home exhausted and cranky from said sights).  Not only is this individual never, ever someone who actually takes the LIRR, they are usually not even located in the New York area.  They are so far removed from the pain of the breakdown that it really doesn't matter to them how quick it gets fixed.  What are you going to do?  Take the other train from Long Island into the city?   That's pretty much how Congress feels about the whole thing.  They're all you've got and despite some empty threats and a few really determined people, no one is moving to another country.

A really sticky point in the situation seems to be the issue of healthcare.  Yes, people would have you believe that there are concerns about the details of such healthcare, but for the small group about which we speak, it would seem the very concept of unfettered access to healthcare is a problem.  This would seem rather inhumane to many, but I have been on the LIRR when the train has come to a stop and the announcement that we are being delayed due to a sick passenger on board has been made (sometimes, although not always, with a follow-up that we are just awaiting help).  Oh the groans.  Oh the eye-rolls.  The looking at watches, the grumbling to friends, the astonishment of so many that they may be a little bit inconvenienced because help is needed for a person on the train who is ill.   If someone is willing to be completely pissed at the thought of losing 5 minutes of their day due to a sick person who probably can't help the situation they are in, just think of how they feel if they believe it will take a penny out of their wallet or require them to do something in the land of the free (car insurance anyone?). 

Perhaps you are thinking that surely, surely Congress has seen the polls that say that a good majority (like over 70%) of the public doesn't think they should be shutting down government over their particular issue of concern.  And that they would listen to the public.  Oh please - people don't listen.  Every single day the LIRR train conductors announce at least once, and sometimes more, to please keep your feet off the seats, put your bags in the overheads and respect your fellow passengers by keeping cell phone conversations to a minimum (or going to the vestibule if it can't be avoided).  Every single day a good number of passengers completely ignore these pronouncements that I feel pretty sure, based on the dirty looks given, represent the opinions of most of their fellow passengers.

So to sum it up, if you've ever been on an overcrowded train, that is two cars short because of equipment problems, and is delayed thanks to a thunderstorm that took out a switch (that was replaced in a recent modernization effort) and an announcement is made that said train will be held at Jamaica awaiting medical assistance for a sick passenger, you can rest assured that a bunch of people on the train will only be pissed at the poor sick schmuck who needs help and some tool hundreds of miles away will release a statement that the customers are their number one priority and they will address the issue as soon as they get back from a previously planned vacation. 

Back to School

Ah, fall.  Cooler nights, changing colors, the smell of the first fires in the air.  (Ok it's early September so it is more like chilly in the morning and then 75 degrees by mid day which means I'm never dressed appropriately).  And, of course, the excitement of back to school.  This year is particularly special for us as Mini-Me the Younger has started kindergarten.  You are probably thinking "how sweet, what a milestone in her life" while I am rejoicing that we no longer have a full time daycare nut to cover (mind you we still have two part time ones so we are not jetting off to Europe just yet).

I was totally ready.  I bought the pre-packaged school kits at the end of the last school year for both of them and everything was labeled.  Backpacks and lunch boxes (or insulated lunch bags in more modern terms) were purchased and music supplies obtained for the elder who has an instrument in school for the first time and will be playing cello (in addition to piano, an acrobatics class, a Saturday morning jewelry making class and chorus because we are apparently insane).  Clothes were purchased, first day outfits were chosen and both kids were excited to begin and not nervous at all.  Yup, totally ready.

I was not ready.

I did not realize how much the summer had spoiled me.  Big Guy is off the whole summer with the girls and so I just need to get myself ready in the mornings.  Just me and my stuff and then out the door.  Now he is back to work and leaves the house first, and once again I have to get two kids and myself (presentable for work) out the door.  Oh, sure he helps - he does lunch and snacks (both I might add before the kids even wake up so it is a solitary - and therefore quick - activity).  Made even quicker by the fact that as he is adjusting back to his routine, the kids have been buying lunch quite a bit; now that we are both working again I don't think anyone has gone food shopping beyond buying a few things here and there. Except in the odd universe that is mother/father responsibility sharing, if they bring lunch he makes it, if they buy lunch I have to make sure they have money (and actual cash is often scarce around this house - add pre-paid lunch cards to the to-do list).  Example two in this odd definition of sharing: he puts their snacks on the table, but I have to actually pack them, yet he still considers this as taking care of the snacks completely on his own.   Let me also add that this ends the list of what he is responsible for in getting them off to school. Lunch as long as it's not money and snacks, no packing included for either. And of course by the time he is out the door they are both up and my time is now their time.  Which means I have no time. And then there are the really fun times when the younger wakes up particularly early. This means my oasis of a shower before entering the race to leave is now her coming in to pee, her going through every drawer in the bathroom and taking out things, her wanting to use my make up all while maintaining a non-stop flow of commentary and questions. This is not the peaceful, meditative start to my day it is supposed to be.

And of course, something always falls through the cracks as I'm rushing through the last five minutes in an attempt to make my train (not the fantasy early train, the it's my last chance to not be late to work train). It's usually not stuff I forgot. It's publicly embarrassing stuff. We're halfway to school and I turn around and the elder's hair looks like it wasn't brushed and it turns out she forgot (some of the kids in Les Mis have less tangled hair than her after sleeping on it). Or the younger decided she wanted to wear socks without mentioning it and is wearing electric blue ankle socks with her sandals and skirt. Or I wear a skirt forgetting that I've moved out of summer shave every day mode but not yet into black tights mode. Or, in an epic embarrassing fail, instead of putting on her good sparkly ballet flats the younger took a pair she has had for about two years and worn hard. So hard the fronts are ripped open and her toes all stick out. And I did not notice and she went to school in them. This was the breaking point even for Big Guy (although I have to add that there is no way for even a second anyone put this on him).

And the evenings. No longer the ease of arriving home, having dinner and chilling about until bedtime. No, there is homework to be checked (do not even ask what the younger is like doing homework for the first time), what seems to be an unending amount of paperwork (back to school barbecue, getting to know you, directory forms, instrument rental contracts) and making sure they are in bed asleep by 8:30 at the latest (when you don't get home until almost 6:30 this is harder than it sounds).  If they are not asleep by then, Mini-Me the Younger sleeps later in the morning and you have to actually wake her up and then rush her to get ready in 20 minutes - it is not pretty (though in all honesty I don't think it's worse than the early rise, share my shower time scenario).  This week I have had the added bonus of her having to wear a special color each day to school.  This may seem like a cute thing to do, but she doesn't seem to own clothes in most of the colors, and the ones we do have are clothes she doesn't want to wear.

And my house. Dear God my house.  It has been an absolute disaster these past few weeks.  Big Guy won't ever win an award for best housekeeper but when he's not working and I am even he knows he has to take on more of the cleaning (we gave up our cleaning lady after Sandy and have not hired her back in an attempt to catch up on the finances and save some money for some house projects - still no jet plane to Europe in sight).  He's abdicated this responsibility for now and I haven't been able to keep up with it (haven't wanted to keep up with it?) with everything else going on.  The good news is that I am having a shindig in the house in a few days and I was forced to take this past weekend to catch up on putting away laundry and making an attempt to find the floors in several rooms in the house.  The bad news is if it is going to stay remotely livable, someone is going to have to do something about the housekeeping on a regular basis and no matter what Big Guy says about helping, I suspect that someone is mostly me-one.

The day before school started I was sure that my preparations and careful planning would result in a smooth re-entry to the school year.  Not even two weeks later the only thing I feel sure about is that I was a complete idiot for thinking anything involving kids would be smooth.

Adventures in Traveling

So I’m on vacation and we’ve done some short trips in the Northeast – Lancaster, PA with a stop at Sesame Place along the way and then a visit to Dutch Wonderland on one trip and the Poconos (en route right now as a matter of fact) for some hiking and possibly another amusement park. This has been a lot of fun but not without some moments of “are you kidding me?”

Mini-me the younger can be quite the challenge on trips. For starters, this child who has refused to sleep late for her entire life (6:30 has been late for her) has chosen this summer (yeah – the summer before kindergarten) to start sleeping until 8 AM on a regular basis. On the one hand this is a good thing but on the other hand – when we need to go somewhere and get up early – she’s a cranky mess. I’m trying to get out the door and she doesn’t want to do anything she needs to do, wear anything she needs to wear. She is one giant hour of “NOOOOO.” Needless to say she isn’t the best car traveler – you need to be armed with the ipad and movies to keep her occupied as best you can (and it has to be a movie that appeals to the elder and the younger). She also alternates between random statements on past actions (“remember that time we were walking on the sidewalk and saw the bug? Where is that bug? Can we see it now? Why? I miss it!”) and claiming her belly hurts (this is what she says when she is bored – why, I don’t know).

Mini-me the Elder is great in the car. A book, a movie, the ipad – she can keep herself occupied for a good amount of time. I never have to worry about her in the car (please don’t let me have totally jinxed the situation).

Then there’s me. I am in the no-man’s land of adult passenger. As the driver, Big Guy gets total radio control so it is usually all Howard Stern with a few detours to the traffic channel. I just get anything anyone needs. I try to read – but get interrupted too much. I listen a bit to Stern (I find him amusing at times). Today represents my first attempt to write a blog since it is a good block of time. It is a little difficult with the interruptions that I have to deal with. DVD is skipping and needs fixing. The younger has moved on to reminiscing on her Jessie doll and where it is (“is it in the attic? Can we go look? My princess castle is there too – can we bring it down tonight?”). Meanwhile, Big Guy sees random towns on the road signs and recalls some place he has been to or heard of is there and I need to confirm it on my phone (Big Guy - “Stanhope, NJ. Isn’t that where Waterloo Village is?” “There’s a big mall around here – can you look?” Me – “ What’s the name?” Big Guy – “Um, I can’t remember but it’s big.”). But I don’t really want to drive (although I offer now and then) so I put up with it.

Then there’s traffic. I understand some traffic will occur, like at toll booths and accidents and merges (this is not to say I like it, just that I logically understand where it comes from) but don’t understand it when it just appears and disappears out of nowhere. What is up with that? You will be zooming along at a good clip and then boom – almost a dead stop for about 5 miles. Then, boom, gone – not even at an exit, just randomly gone. Where did everybody go? It doesn’t help that Big Guy can’t stand traffic. He used to try other routes to avoid it, but we usually ended up getting lost and taking longer than if we had stayed in it (I think I’ve mentioned his shortcuts before – this is a similar concept). So now we wait it out while he rages against it. “What is this? How can there be traffic? It’s one broken down car - I know it. One car messing everything up. An accident. Probably a rear-end. Some idiot can’t stop and we have to sit here.” It is particularly amusing that he will lower the volume on Stern to say all of this – like I wouldn’t hear him if he didn’t. It’s like he is changing the channel for me from Stern to Big Guy’s traffic rant. And of course, 90% of the time it is just the disappearing traffic which drives him crazy.

Which brings us to the gas situation. Big Guy wants to leave with just enough gas to get to Jersey and buy it there to save money. Theoretically I am on board with this but the problems arise when the traffic issue intersects with the gas plans. Nothing like being stuck in bumper to bumper traffic and seeing that little orange light come on. At which point we hit the perfect storm of anti-traffic raging, getting off the parkway for a shortcut/detour (it’s always an exit where the gas isn’t right off the highway) where we get lost. And we end up paying more than we would have at home if we had just filled it before we left.

And then there are our destinations. We really like amusement and water parks and we have a great time at the ones we go to, but I have one thing to say to Sesame Place – WTF is up with charging $15 for parking? $52 a person to go for the day and you add a parking fee for regular parking? Full disclosure – we got season passes and added an upgrade to one so that we didn’t have to pay for parking (it was totally worth it for the amount we go) but why should we have to do that? I can perhaps understand paying for *closer* parking (although I never would do that – walk a little people – it won’t kill you). Dutch Wonderland does this and I am okay with it – walk a bit and it’s free, $10 and you can park much closer. But there is a free option because they understand you are paying them to come in the park for the day and you need to put your car somewhere. If my kids didn’t love Sesame Place I might boycott it for just this reason. You should not charge your customers for parking!

Let me be clear that these are 2-3 hour trips. Every once in a while Big Guy mentions something about driving cross country. I suppose it seems like a pretty cool concept in theory but in reality I don’t know if I want to google nameless malls while sitting in traffic that will disappear right after we get really expensive gas because we are desperate. I guess it will be okay as long as I don’t have to pay to park anywhere.

Why Can't We Improve The Mammogram?

With age comes benefits – experience, wisdom, and, as a woman, the mammogram. I just had my second one, which at the age of 46 could mean that I don’t go frequently enough, go just enough, or go too frequently, depending upon whose guidelines you follow and how recently you read them (if it was more than five minutes ago, they may have changed). The medical world can’t seem to make up its mind regarding the necessary frequency of the mammogram. And they seem to be doing a lot of studies on it. Lots and lots of studies on how often women get mammograms and if this type of screening is beneficial and saves us from breast cancer. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying it isn’t important to find out this information. But, I would like to request that, along the way, they do a few studies on how to examine the breast in a different way than painfully crushing it between two metal panels. At various angles. Because that shit hurts.

It all starts so nicely. I go into a little dressing room, put my clothes and belongings into a little shopping bag and put on a nice white bathrobe. It all has a very spa-like feeling to it. That’s kind of mean because it all comes to a brutal end when you enter the giant metal room and they tell you to slip your left arm out and slap your boob on the table. Talk about adding insult to injury – you have to put it up there yourself like you are offering it up for a sacrifice.

Meanwhile, the tech is a nice little old lady, which only makes me realize they really haven’t made any advances in the mammography field. When was the last time you had a sonogram or an MRI or anything else that required a piece of advanced medical equipment that was operated by an older person? I’m not trying to be ageist here, but they are always on the younger side. But here’s the mammogram lady, in her 30th year of operating it – no additional training required.

Like I said, she is very kind and is chatting with me and I am doing my best to answer her, but as I mentioned earlier my boob is being crushed after I propped it on a table and held it there while she moved it around to get it in the perfect position before pressing a button to lower the second plate onto it (is it me or does that seem awfully similar to the death traps used in a lot of adventure movies on the way to the gold?). After a few short answers (not mean, just short, like you tend to when you don’t want to be impolite but your tit really hurts) she says “are you okay? You seem like you don’t really want to be here.” I’m not joking – she really said that. Seriously, old lady crushing my boob? Do you get people that *do* want to be here? Do you think I should be enjoying this? What kind of crazy old lady are you?

After I had my mammogram, I had to have a sonogram on my thyroid (don’t ask – it was just one of those days where I did everything in one shot to get it out of the way). I had a nice young woman as the tech (thereby supporting my earlier theory) who squeezed some gel on a little hand held thing which she gently rolled around my throat and under my chin – almost massaging me at times. I was able to chat with her at the moments when it was just resting there as she took a picture and then gently moved it to the next spot. It was very relaxing.

So medical world, a little customer feedback if you will. As you continue to spend money investigating mammograms, in addition to frequency, could you put a few cents into figuring out how to turn them into a gentle massage with some warm gel? Me and my boobs would greatly appreciate it.

Biking in the city is hazardous...to pedestrians

Yes, I know, it has been a while since my last blog. I could try to give some valid reasons why but at the end of the day...well at the end of the day I've been really tired and haven't been able to conjure up the energy to write. Oh, and I've been watching Dexter, Game of Thrones and The Borgias. How embarrassing that part of my reason for lack of writing is due to watching television. I'll try to do better.

So anyways, summer has arrived to New York City (we skipped spring this year for anyone not local).  My walks from the station to the office and back again have been more enjoyable (until of course I start complaining about the brutal heat, although it is never as bad as the cold) and after a winter like this one and no spring there is nothing like the feel of the sun on my face as opposed to a bitterly cold wind.  But as pleasant as the walks could be, there is a dark underbelly to them, a constant looming threat.  I'm talking about bike riders in the city.

Oh, how I loathe them.  I'm sure the majority of them are really nice people but once they get pedaling on these two wheelers, they become my mortal enemy. 

When I first started working in the city the worst ones you had to watch out for were the bike messengers.  Oh, sure, there were a few regular people who commuted by bike but they were gentle souls pedaling along the side of the road just hoping not to get creamed by a car.  The messengers were like messengers of death.  Since greater speed of delivery meant more pay, they zoomed through traffic like they had no cares of hitting or getting hit - racing along like they were one of the cars but going at twice the speed since the traffic lights and the traffic meant nothing to them.  But I survived them...and I miss them.  I mean, I'm sure they are still out there but I have other more dangerous predators to be on the lookout for these days. 

In an effort to make the city safer for bikers (and I assume to increase the number of bikers to cut down on traffic, pollution, gas use - all sorts of great things I really want to support) - bike lanes have been installed all over the place.  And I would imagine bikers are now safer.  And there are definitely more of them.  But an unintended side effect is that the pedestrians - which include me among their ranks - are now in infinitely more danger.

These bike riders adhere to no set of rules!  It's like they were given their own little stretch of road on city streets and they do whatever they want in it.  Any speed, any direction, they heed no lights.  I can't tell you how many times I have almost been hit by a bike going some ridiculous speed the wrong way on a one way avenue and through a red light.  Aren't bikes supposed to be following the same rules of the road as cars?  Well they don't.  Not the ones in the bike paths.  It's like they think it is their own little anarchic world.  And they are all getting bolder.  They are starting to extend the lunacy to the streets leading onto the bike paths.  They come from every which direction to get into the bike path - their zone of safety - and they just don't care how they get there or who they have to hit to make it.  They know they won't get in trouble - hey, the city cared so much about them, wanted them so much, they built roads just for them.

And what about the safety of their passengers?  Yes, that's right - passengers.  Many of these people are carrying kids with them.  The other day, I saw a guy with two kids on his bike with him.  One in a carrier in front of him and one on the back of the bike .  He cruised through a stop sign, almost hitting me.  I didn't see him because he came out on the other side of the NYC taxicab that was patiently waiting for me to cross.  Yeah, remember when they were the awful crazy drivers?

And now it has gotten worse.  How you may ask?  With the introduction of the Citi Bike program.  Oh sure, proponents will tell you it is environmentally friendly.  That it cuts down on subway, car and pedestrian traffic by providing a bike option to people who may not ride enough to warrant buying their own bike or have no place to store one or even are just visiting for a while.  And they'll tell you that it has been so incredibly successful that in its first month people rode a million miles on these bikes.  You know what all of that says to me?  A lot of really inexperienced, incompetent bikers have been all over the roads of New York City recently.  They're not just a danger on the bike paths.  They are going everywhere, in every possible direction, at every possible speed.  I have even seen them on the sidewalk (this is not an exaggeration to support my story). It is exactly what a normal person (not the dolts who imagined the Citi Bike program) would think would happen if you gave bikes to thousands of people who don't really ride them that often and said "go ahead, cruise around congested New York City.  Any rules?  No, none at all.  You're a biker - people don't want you to get hurt.  If things get a little hairy and a crash is imminent, aim for a pedestrian, not a car - you'll win that battle."

I've been working and walking in the city for 25 years and I suspect my odds are running out - it is only a matter of time before one of these lunatics takes me out.   I think in a pinch, if things get hairy, I'm going to try to run into a car.  They move a lot slower - I think I can win that battle.

How to Ruin a Good Facebook Debate

Now I love a good debate on Facebook.  I know it's not for everyone but it might surprise you to know that my snarky self has some opinions on things and it can be a good venue to have some interesting dialogue.  Plus it's a good place to get it out.  If I am just hanging with some friends who I don't see very often, it isn't particularly fun to spend the time discussing something like gun control.  Kind of brings the evening down, even if you all agree with each other. 

But my oh my, there are certain things that take place in a Facebook debate that are truly annoying and just ruin the fun for the rest of us.  Some of these take place in real life, some only in cyberspace - but what they have in common is that they just kill a good conversation on a topic.

-- The "you're missing the point" or "what is it about this that you people are not getting" comments.  Seriously?  If someone disagrees with you it is solely because they don't understand the issue in the same way that you do?  Someone's parents forgot to provide a reality check at some point because unless you are Stephen Hawking, this really has no place in a conversation.  The "you people" is just bad manners and poor English.

-- The reference/article poster.  I'm not talking about someone who posts a link to start a discussion or in the midst of a conversation, posts a link that clarifies or responds to a question someone has posted.  Those are helpful.  I'm talking about the people who, rather than use their own words to express their opinion, post link after link to outside articles - or even worse post the entirety of such articles in their posts.  Somtimes at the end of several of these they'll write something silly like "nuff said."  Nuff said?  You didn't say anything.  This is equivalent to being at an in-person gathering (say a party or meeting) and interjecting yourself into various conversations by handing out photocopies of articles and walking away.   I suspect the host or meeting leader would soon ask you to leave and on Facebook the rest of us having an actual conversation on the issue would like to do the same (but we can’t because then we would be rude and obnoxious).  From time to time, there is some humor involved when the article poster completes their cycle of links by writing "don't believe everything you read - learn the truth." Um, by reading?

-- The person who while participating in a debate on issues in one thread starts another lamenting the stupidity of the world today and how uninformed people are and a variety of other derogatory comments on people not issues.  Using the real world as a guide again, this would be the equivalent of debating an issue with one group of people and then walking over to another group of people ten feet away and telling them “Betty and John over there are really stupid and are going on and on about shit they don’t understand, unlike me who knows the truth.” 

-- The person who comes to the defense of a friend in a completely overblown manner.  There you’ll be having an interesting, intelligent conversation in which you and another person are at opposite sides of the issue but everything is completely civil when suddenly something like “hey I don’t know who you think you are snarky self, but Betty is a good person.  I’ve known her for two months on facebook! She loves her kids!”  Um, okay.  She said she hated cilantro in guacamole and I said I loved it.  Ok, sometimes the topics are a little more serious but the intervention is just as illogical.   Sure, in person or on Facebook it’s nice to throw in a supporting post.  Pop in a “I hate cilantro too.”  Or if it looks like someone is getting totally bashed maybe you could throw in a little “hey Betty is passionate about hating cilantro but we all have our opinions so let’s live and let live and agree to disagree” or some other platitude.   Save the loving her kids and the longevity of the relationship for the abuse trial.

-- The “liker.” This is the person who gives the thumbs up to every single post in a conversation and quite frankly they just annoy me.  How can you like *everything*?  Even for an innocuous topic like favorite guacamole recipes, it seems a little odd to like every single one (cilantro is an herb that evokes strong opinions) and once you get into something really polarizing like the Oxford comma you need to pick a side.  Otherwise my snarky self is going to suspect you aren’t reading anything and just want people to like you.  One of these days I’m going to test it by writing something like “I love to kick puppies” in the middle of a raging debate just to see what you do.

By the way, if you do any of the above and are offended by my opinion:  LOL, J and you’re too sensitive.  Any of those apparently make everything okay.

There's Nothing Like a Train Delay to End Your Day...

So, Amtrak had a downed power line in a tunnel this afternoon.  Naturally this means there were delays on the Long Island Rail Road.  And by naturally, it means it really makes no sense to me because can't Amtrak just delay all their trains and take the hit?  But, since I am not in the upper echelons of the management of either organization, I can't do much about that.  I can only snark on the delays.

First of all, let me just say that nothing brings out the anger in people like a train delay.  I understand it is frustrating and you are going to get home late, but people are simply seething.  A woman next to me stood watching the track posting screen (where you either see where your train is leaving from or find out it has been cancelled when it disappears from the screen a minute before they make the announcement) cursing each time a track is posted (clearly not for her train) and loudly saying "and they wonder why people go ballistic."  I'm not sure who they are, but I do decide it can't hurt to move away from her.

Meanwhile I am hoping for news on my train.  There are constant announcements of up to 30 minute delays and that *some* trains may be cancelled - while in reality it appears that every other train on the schedule is being cancelled.  As the ones just before and just after mine are given tracks, it becomes increasingly clear that my train will fall in the other category and sure enough it disappears from the list and is followed by its cancellation announcement.  What concerns me even more is it seems to be the only cancellation which doesn't also add the line about "customers will be accommodated on the [insert another train leaving in about 5 minutes]."  It turns out that is because I won't be accommodated on another train and I just need to wait for the next scheduled one to my town (which will also be leaving late). 

At this point I've been standing in Penn Station for about 35 minutes but I am not yet ready to go ballistic, even though my phone has been lying to me since it is showing the highest connection rate but won't actually connect to anything.  Luckily I am prepared for these situations by also having my Kindle.  It occurs to me that I may not be going ballistic because this is affording me reading time.  Ah, my train and track are announced.  Time to join 600 people trying to squeeze through a doorway that can fit three people side by side at a time, to then go down a staircase that can accommodate two.  This is not helped by the people who are walking back up the stairs because they went to the track they are usually on for their train home - despite the fact that trains are clearly leaving at least 20 minutes late and there have been consistent announcements (even more frequent than the cancellations) to not go down to your track until it is announced due to the delays and changes.  Did they think their train would be the one train of the night to leave on time from its normal track?  They would get the "you've got to be kidding me" award of the evening but I have someone else in store for you...wait for it, it's coming.

I join the herd on the platform where we wait in groups of about 60, spread out over 20 feet or so each of us hoping the train will come to a stop with the doors landing right in front of us.  There seem to be a few people on the planet who know the secret to predicting this, but I am not one of them.  I have the opposite power and am usually nowhere near the doors.  This time is no exception. I shuffle along with everyone else hoping there will be a seat left by the time I get on. 

There is one person next to me who seems to be particularly blatant in her pushing.  The subtle push where someone walks pretty close to me in hoping I'll move out of the way is one thing - this lady seems to simply be shoving people out of the way.  Plus she is rocking a pretty high set of heels and I don't want one of them to impale my foot.  I end up right behind her in a line of people walking the aisle in search of a seat so I have the lone view of her next action.  She pulls her phone from her pocket, puts it to her ear and (no hello or anything) says very loudly "well I can't keep doing this, I am pregnant.  It is very hard to do this being pregnant."  Really now?  Lest you think I am being unnecessarily suspicious of the shover in heels, the chances of getting a phone signal underground and on the train are slim to none.  Now that is a "you've got to be kidding me" moment.  Luckily I don't have to be truly put out by this malarkey as the size of the crowd seemed worse than it really was and everyone finds a seat.  My sense of personal affront is minimized since she didn't actually get anything out of the attempted scam (but not entirely gone).

As for me, well you'll be happy to know I got home a mere 2 hours and 15 minutes after I left the office (12 hours after I left the house this morning - not that I'm counting).  And they wonder why people go ballistic...

Doctor, Doctor

So I had a weird bump on my shoulder and thought I should get it checked out.  Now I know I need to go to a dermatologist for this, but of course my insurance requires a referral to go to a specialist.  So I need to go to my doctor first so they can tell me I need to go to a dermatologist.  This is an excellent example of efficiency in healthcare.  

So I call to make the appointment with my doctor. Since I'm not sick (I'm just trying to find out if I have skin cancer) I can't get a sick visit and since I need an early morning or evening it's around a three week wait (for any doctor in the practice). I wonder if I have legal recourse if the thing grows in the meantime.  In the interim I get the name of a dermatologist in my plan (from my boss so I know she's a good doctor plus she is in the city so I will have more flexibility in when I can go).   This way I am prepared with the name of the doctor I will be visiting so they can write it on the script (and their provider number, just in case - I am very thorough).

The doctor visit goes as expected. I spend 20 minutes in the waiting room, 5 minutes in the exam room (without the doctor) and 2 minutes with the doctor, who tells me it doesn't look cancerous but I should go to a dermatologist to be sure. By the way this only takes 1 minute of the two - the other minute was asking questions about how I feel completely unrelated to the bump on my shoulder.  I check out and pay the $25 co-pay and ask for the referral.  Nope, sorry, doesn't work that way.  I need to call and make the appointment with the dermatologist, and then call my doctor's office back with the date of the appointment and all of the doctor's information and they will process the referral.  All I know is I better not call the dermatologist and have them tell me they need the referral before they can make the appointment.

So I make the dermatologist appointment.  It's a good thing I have more flexibility on the time since the dermatologist appointment is even harder to secure than the regular doctor.  Plus, as a new patient I have to provide all of my information over the phone so they can create a record for me.  I dutifully call my doctor with my appointment time.  A week later the dermatologist's office calls to change the appointment since she won't be in the office on the day I am scheduled (I am giving them the benefit of the doubt and assuming her schedule changed as opposed to her staff is dumb and made an appointment for when she won’t be there).  I found about this change via a voice mail and it took me three calls back before I got someone who could actually schedule a new appointment for me.  The first two times the person who answered the phone had “too many people there for her to help me” and took my name and number so I could be called back and helped.  You will be surprised to find out I was never called back and had to do it myself each time.  I finally get the new date and again, being a thorough person (my gift and my curse), I call my primary care doctor to tell them the new appointment date for the referral and they tell me it has already been completed and sent over to the dermatologist so they don’t need it.  Since I have a working brain, I can’t help but wonder why they needed a date at all in the first place.  You are really not impressing me insurance industry.  Meanwhile, it has been several weeks since the potentially cancerous bump detection and I have spent more of my time setting things up and paying and providing information so that I can pay than actually seeing a doctor and I still don't know if I have cancer.  It is about this time you start thinking of “if only they caught it earlier” stories. 

Finally I arrive at the dermatologist where as a new patient I have to complete about five pages of information that is exactly the same as what I provided on the phone when I set up the appointment.  What is up with that?  Even if they need it in writing, why can't they give me a printout of what they have to edit or approve? And why do I have to write down my insurance information if they are taking a picture of my card?  I never know what numbers to write - most of the names they have for numbers don't match the names of the numbers on my card ( for example, policy number appears nowhere on my card).  This all seems incredibly inefficient for an industry that claims to have procedures in place for efficiency to improve my healthcare experience (while annually raising the cost of such experience).

Yet once again, the efficiency presents itself when I am faced with the purpose of all of this – seeing the dermatologist.  As with the primary care physician, I spend the least amount of time with her (although a little more than with the primary care since she does give me a full body check to be sure).  I spend about ten minutes with her (sadly part of which is verbally completing the paperwork I didn’t finish in the waiting room).  I then leave and pay $40 for the privilege of this visit.

For any of you keeping track, it has now cost me $65 and probably a couple of hours of my time between making these appointments, travelling to them and actual time in waiting rooms and doctor's offices.  Out of these couple of hours, I spent about 15 minutes of actual time with a medical professional.  So as it turns out the system is incredibly efficient - for the doctors.  It is simply incredibly inefficient (time and cost-wise) for those of us going to the doctors.

And for those of you kind enough to be worrying about whether I have cancer (my snarky self thanks you for caring) you will be happy to know that the suspicious bump is what is known as a seborrheic keratosis (yes, I looked it up after the fact for spelling).  Completely harmless and thanks to the full body check I now know that I apparently have a few others scattered about my body and I can likely look forward to more.  It would seem that they are caused by…getting old. 

If It's Not One Thing, It's Your Mother...

So I have been back in my house for about a month now and for two weeks it was wonderful. Not perfect - I had no kitchen nor any running water downstairs and my brother (whom I'll call Bro) was with us - but it was still home and better than where we were. Then, about a week and a half ago my Mother (whom I'll call Flo - yes it's her real name and no I don't anticipate any liability nor privacy issues) arrived. And my home bubble has burst.

I know you are thinking how bad could it be? It has been annoying, frustrating and disgusting (as you will soon see). Sure, feel free to analyze and tell me perhaps a shrink and a couch would help me a bit, but in the meantime I am suffering from having her in my home and I don't know how I will survive the at least two months until their house is done (their slowness in fixing their house is fodder for another post). Yes, I have lived with her before for an extended period (in addition to childhood) when my home was being renovated the last time - and that sucked too and it was by choice.

Mealtimes are enough to make me twitch.  We have no kitchen and rely upon canned goods and takeout for the most part right now.  We get Chinese and we have to get her pizza because she won't eat Chinese (my brother has conveniently removed himself from all of this as he is no longer ever hungry at meal time, having already eaten - when she wasn't staying with us he ate with us all the time).  Then we get pizza which she does not want because she had it when we had Chinese.  So, I offer a meatball hero (it comes with a family package) which she tells me she'll eat but then when offered turns it down as she has realized it "came from a different place than she thought and she won't eat meatballs from a place she has never had them before because she won't know if she will like them."   If you are thinking "huh?" right about now I don't blame you.  So we give her the baked ziti that also came with the meal (and which was supposed to be our next night's dinner, but hey we are kind and don't want her to starve).  She has about three bites of it and won't eat anymore because it isn't really hot (but she won't microwave it either because it doesn't taste right ). By the way, if you are forming a picture of a selective gourmand with high food standards, let me crush that by telling you the only cheese other than American she likes is Velveeta. I am starting to re-think the part about not letting her starve. 

At this point we have bought her dinner for about five nights (and she has rejected or complained about half of them) in a row.  The next night Big Guy is with Mini-Me the Elder at her softball game and it is just me and the younger in the house with Flo and Bro.  Flo proceeds to announce that she is going out to get dinner for her and the Bro.  I waited but the offer to pick up something for me (you know the person who has fed her for five nights straight rather than let her starve) does not come.  Um okay.  Not to get into too much of a tit for tat but seriously?  Who would not offer to pick you up something in this situation? Shoot that should just be common courtesy.

But none of this compares to the dog poop incidents (yes, that's right - incidents - plural - involving dog poop).  For those who remember way back at the beginning of this blog, their dog Mookie is staying with us as well.  She was with us in my sister's apartment and is now in my house.  During the brief period in the apartment when Flo was with us, we had an incident in which she picked up after the dog and for some reason chose to not throw out the um, bag of shit in the garbage pail outside but rather to bring it into the apartment and put it on a chair in the kitchen.  In the kitchen!  I responded to this rather strongly and laid down the law that poop that is made outside stays outside.  This seemed a pretty straightforward rule and not unreasonable I might add.

Fast forward to a week ago and Flo's return.   Not three days into her stay here and guess what?  Dog poop in the kitchen.  Walked the dog, picked it up and brought it into the house, put it on top of my brand new corner cabinet which is waiting to be installed and then left it there to be found by Big Guy the next morning.  It was in my house overnight!   Again, I found myself explaining to an adult that poop that is made outside stays outside.  There are trash bins out there - use them! 

These are just examples of the day in and day out behavior that comes from living with Flo and I need to do it for at least two months.  To sum up, you buy her dinners she doesn't like and won't eat, she won't buy you dinner in return, and she leaves dog shit in your kitchen. 

Kids and Mornings Don't Mix

I can't seem to get out of the house in the mornings.  It has really become quite torturous and I am late to work on a pretty consistent basis which is really not like me.  Now there are a million reasons why someone could have a difficult time getting out the door in the morning - finding clothes to wear, lack of sleep making you move a bit more slowly, spilling coffee and having to clean it up.   You know, little things that throw you off a bit.  But those are all things that happen from time to time and I usually find them pretty manageable - take care of it and move along.  My problem is more consistent and more difficult to solve.  I have kids and they are there in the morning while I am trying to get out of the house.

The issues are different for each but just as time consuming.  Mini-me the Elder is very self sufficient and actually very helpful.  She gets herself dressed, packs her school bag, gets herself together pretty quickly quite frankly - well ahead of when we need to leave.  And then spends the rest of the time talking to me, asking me questions, telling me stories (yes, she does want me to be looking at her when she talks to me because there is frequently something that needs to be performed) and showing me things.  I understand that this is a wonderful thing that she wants to talk to me and be with me.  That understanding makes me feel positively awful when she wants to spend five minutes re-enacting something that happened at school the day before and I'm all "I really, really want to see that but I really, really need to blow dry my hair."  Okay Mom.  Great thanks for understanding and it doesn't bother me at all that you look like I just kicked a puppy.  I am completely immune to that...no, no I'm not.  Go ahead - sure, you can start at the beginning. 

And, yes, she's the easy one.  Mini-me the Younger?  She is definitely not self-sufficient nor helpful (don't get me wrong she is just as sweet as the elder).  Sure she can get herself dressed if she actually does it.  Instead you will leave her in her room with the instructions to get dressed, she will answer okay, and then you will return 10 minutes later to discover that she has not made one inch of progress towards getting dressed; however, she is in the middle of a one act play with six of her dolls (she provides all of the voices) who you are pretty sure had clothes on when you left the room 10 minutes ago.  When I tell her to get dressed again she finally deigns to even look at the clothes and some portion or other of the outfit simply will not do - "but I need long sleeves/short sleeves/dress/skirt/flat leggings" (yes that's right - only straight leg leggings will do - no flare on the bottom for her).  The good news is that she does eventually get dressed - the bad news is that it took 20 minutes of my time for it to happen (and the chances are she still has no shoes on and doesn't know where they are).  Then there is the herding downstairs and out the front door.  This is a child who spends a good portion of her time in the house running.  Literally running:  from one end of the living room to the other, from the back of the house to the front.  We refer to it as her doing her laps.  But when I need to get out the door?  Has a living thing ever moved more slowly?  And touched more objects while walking twenty feet?  With commentary on each one?  While I am standing at the door mentally ticking off the time left until I will maybe miss my train if I don't get the lights, probably miss my train unless I hit no lights, or miss my train even if my car sprouted wings and I could drop the kids at their respective schools from the sky as I flew by without stopping. 

For those of you who are wondering where Big Guy is in all of this with all of our equality of parenting, he's already gone.  He needs to leave earlier than I do and has already done his share by taking care of breakfast and lunches.  Nothing personal but that parts easy.  There are no kids involved in it.

The entire process of getting ready on a weekday morning from the time I get in the shower until I leave can be anywhere from an hour fifteen minutes to an hour and a half depending upon my little precious bundles of joy.  Want to know how long it takes when there is no school and they stay home with Big Guy and I just need to get my butt only out the door?  I can do it in 40 minutes flat.  And unlike the hour and a half torture process I actually look pretty good when I'm done. 

Stop Signs Are Not Optional...And Other Common Driving Myths

This is a stop sign.  It is a red octagon with the words STOP in white letters in the center.  It signals to a driver that they need to come to a stop (usually at an intersection) make sure all is clear and then they can proceed.

For those of you who are thinking to yourselves "Silly snarky self, I know what a stop sign is - everybody does" - clearly you don't live in *my* town.  In my town there's a pretty large population of people who apparently think they are optional. 

Day in and day out I am simply flabbergasted at how many people ignore stop signs - whether a straight up blow through or a pause so slight, I just can't count it.  And I'm not talking about early morning or late at night when I'm one of five cars on the road.  This shit is happening on beautiful Saturday spring afternoons when there are a ton of cars (and kids) about.  I would like to blame it all on teenagers (and they are pretty guilty as charged) but it cuts across age and gender lines (sadly with a pretty high ratio of Moms - which is what most of the women my age in my town are). 

Alas, if it were only limited to blowing stop signs it might be manageable.  But there are a few other things that people in my town seem to be confused about when it comes to driving.

- Right on red means that you come to a stop at the red light and then make the turn if all is clear.  When I rode my bike to the train station over the summer I can't tell you how many times I was almost picked off by some moron who just cruised through that turn without even pausing.  Hey, don't worry about me; I'm sure me and my bike will hold up just fine against your truck.

- When you are at an intersection with a green turning arrow and it then turns red, that doesn't mean any car that was within a 1/4 mile of the light before it turned red can still go through.  Every morning when I need to cross the highway to get to my daughter's daycare, about 6 cars get through on the green arrow and then like another 6 go through after it turns red. I'll spot maybe the first one but after that you're all just greedy.  And if I am just a few cars back I'll probably miss my light cause my lane can't go until you all stop turning.

- Your car should go in between the parking space lines in the parking lot - your whole car from front to back.  I understand, you're in a hurry, you pull in quickly, you pop out to run for the train, the movie, your cappuccino - you simply have no time to notice that half of your car (front or back, doesn't matter) is in the next spot.  Don't worry about it, I'll go find another spot.  I'm not in a hurry - unlike you I apparently have all the time in the world to find a spot next to someone who pulled in straight.

- Speaking of parking, when the parking lot is really full, you can't just make up a new spot closest to the store you need to go to (and blocking the part of the lot the cars actually need to drive).   I sometimes want to just wait at that car for the person to show up so I can find out from them exactly why they are so special as to be able to park wherever they want. 

Seriously people, it's time to brush up on your knowledge of traffic rules.  If you aren't sure go ahead and google it or text a friend - most of you are already looking at the phone in your hand anyways.

You Can't Fool Me Big Guy

So, the home renovations continue and the bills are mounting and from time to time we need to decide to do something ourselves, within moderation as we are not particularly handy.  For example, this time around we did all of the painting as that can cost a fortune and, as long as there are no fancy techniques, it's really not that hard (and do not even ask how much insurance estimates as the cost to paint).  Plus, the tricky spots tend to be really high and out of sight, so you can get away with a few mistakes here and there.  And, if anyone actually pointed out a sloppy corner, you can just say how Hurricane Sandy destroyed your home and you couldn't afford a real painter.  That puts an end to it and they slink away.

Anyhow, I tried to draw the line when Big Guy started talking about staining the stairs himself.  We had to replace the bottom half of our staircase and in case you've never had a new set of stairs put in (this is our second set, so we are old pros) they come unfinished and require sanding, staining and a finish.  I was not a fan of this idea - nothing personal against him but the stairs are in a pretty prominent spot (front entry hallway) and, um, right at eye level (not to mention the elaborate large post right at the bottom).  No room to hide any errors.  We found a painter that would do it for a reasonable price (as well as touch up some of the edging around our house - the painter's idea, which only goes to show how impressive our painting skills were to a professional) and I thought I had Big Guy convinced.

Then I came home one day last week and after a day of errands and some more expenses (he's a Dean in a middle school and had off for spring break) he announced that he had decided he was definitely going to do it himself.  It made the most sense, he had stained things before and we could save the money.  He was pretty set on this, started in on the "have a little faith" and repeated again how we could save the money if he did it himself.  Then he made his fatal error...by slipping in, as an aside, "or use it for something else."  A-ha!  Cue the screeching brakes as we now arrive at the real reason behind the logical decision.  "Ok, out with it, what are you planning to buy?"  He tried to insist that it was nothing, he was "just saying," (famous last words) but I know him too well.  In fact, had he not mistakenly added that "or use it for something else," I know in about a week he would have innocently mentioned some new "must have" item assuming I wouldn't connect it to the "do it himself stair staining, money-saving idea."  As if.  Really guys, you can't put these things past us and I don't know why you try.  We've been together twenty years and I can assure you, I've been paying attention.

So, after a few more half-hearted denials, the truth came out.  He had *already* purchased the "something else."  When we bought our appliances a couple of weeks back, the store had a huge gas grill on sale (ours was drowned by Sandy).  Like a moth to a flame, as we were looking at stoves, dishwashers and fridges, he kept going back to that grill.  He was enthralled by it.  Men and their barbecues.  So, when he had a day off, he took another trip to that store and encountered the perfect situation - still on sale and no Snarky Self to veto the transaction with silly comments like "a barbecue isn't a high priority right now, we need to stain the stairs."  And when the fait accompli of the purchase became known, he would be in good stead, having already stained the stairs thus paying for the barbecue so it all equals out in the end.  Well according to his math. My math likes to end up with the money in my pocket.

So now there is a giant barbecue in my shed.  It was able to fit in there because my beautiful armoire that was too heavy for him to carrry into the house alone was moved in by the guys who delivered the barbecue for a few bucks thrown their way solving that problem.  I guess he figures that gesture will protect him from any future comments about his little plan.

As if. 

Trailer Living...It's Not Just For Trailers

I am back home!  This is a huge thing and anything I say does not in any way dilute or negate what an absolutely, awesomely, fantastic thing this is.  There truly is no place like home - but it isn't quite 100% perfect yet.  In fact, if I reach for my inner snob, I realize that if there were a checklist for what constitutes a trailer park home, I would have quite a few check marks on there.

• There is a toilet on my front porch.  Like the six of a kind or large straight in Yahtzee, you would think this would be the hardest item to check off, but I got it on the first roll - it's been there from the beginning.  Granted, it is a Toto toilet - but when it is on your front porch it doesn't really matter how good a toilet it is.  It is from my half-bath, which is not together yet, but will be soon so there is really no point in moving it inside until we're ready to install it.  Besides, it takes the attention off the piano under the tarp next to it.
• Big guy went food shopping and Chef Boyardee and Campbell's had a big bump in sales.  Hey, don't judge - we have no kitchen, just a microwave and need to pay the contractor - we can't order in every night. 
• There is a box of wine in my kitchen.  Now mind you, I was encouraged to try wine in a box by a friend and the quality of wines that come in the boxes has significantly increased (think Black Label and Bota Box).  And it is actually pretty good as a quaffable wine to keep on hand for a glass at night - plus it lasts a long time and is good for the environment (one box holds four bottles worth of wine).  But it is nevertheless a *box of wine.*  Is there a longer standing joke in the wine world?  I have probably lost all of my wine credibility.
• We have extended family here.  My brother is currently with us and my Mother will be arriving shortly, so we will officially have three generations in one home, but not enough beds for everyone.
• My armoire is in my shed, but its doors are in my living room. 
• In the midst of the mess, we have a 65 inch plasma TV fully set up (and two other TVs on the first floor alone).  The kids may be eating Chef Boyardee but we are watching the Walking Dead in full bloody glory.
• My yard (front and back) consists of dead grass, dead trees, dead shrubs and a wide variety of garden furniture, house furniture, kids playsets, contractor materials, a partially collapsed  gazebo (which Big Guy is still convinced he can save) and assorted pieces of wood and metal. 

Yup, I may not have an actual trailer but I think I can join the club.  But I wouldn't trade it for the world.  Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to look into banjo lessons. Might as well go whole hog.

When Mystical Creatures Collide...in a 300 Square Foot Apartment

So Mini-me the elder lost a tooth on Saturday.  It had been loose for a while and we knew it was going soon –and there we were at our real house doing some work when she came running out with blood in her mouth all excited that it had finally happened and that the tooth fairy would be coming that night (yes she still believes and yes we leave money).  And then the kicker – she added how cool it would be that the tooth fairy would be coming the same night she was trying to catch a leprechaun in her trap since the next day was St. Patrick's Day (yes she still believes and yes we leave gifts and leprechaun treasure).

Okay then.  It was one thing when we did any of the nighttime visits in our house – kids went to bed upstairs and with the exception of the tooth fairy (we just slipped in later) we set up everything downstairs. Granted two things in our house may have required a little more prep but still not too bad.  But here?  We have two rooms and four of us sleep in one of them.  It was Saturday night and everyone stays up a bit later (which for us these days is like 10 for the adults but still).  This was going to be like Mission Impossible.  We had nowhere in the apartment to hide the St. Paddy’s day stuff so had to get it from the car after bedtime and take care of it.  And of course the tooth fairy required full sleep.  An added complication was that she was so excited about two visits she couldn’t get to sleep and kept popping out.  Meanwhile, all I wanted to do was take of everything so I could *go* to sleep (did I mention we had been doing work at the house?).

The leprechaun trap was easier.  Once the kids were in the bedroom, big guy hoofed it out to the car while I kept watch on the bedroom to make sure she stayed in there (10 seconds to complete mission – GO!).  He was in charge of the leprechaun trap while I had the much more delicate mission of tooth retrieval and money replacement – I always get the finesse jobs.  I had not seen the selections he had made so had to go with the program – a box of Lucky Charms cereal, Hershey's Strawberry syrup (in my view the name Hershey should always be paired with chocolate but so be it) and two giant foam swords (??). Not long after St. Paddy’s was complete on the kitchen table, the bedroom door opened and sure enough it was the elder still not able to sleep.  So, since it was getting late (10:30 – sigh, how old am I?) I went in with her to take care of my part of Operation Paddytooth.  This did not go well to say the least.

She was sleeping on the floor so I went there as well (yup that’s right – two on the floor and two on the bed) and told her I would read a bit.  Of course, I needed to know where the tooth was so I made a ploy that I just wanted to check that it was in a good spot.  Good thing – it was way on the other side – I would have never gotten to it.  I moved it over into a good close spot, kissed her good night and bided my time.  And bided.  And bided.  She tossed, she turned.  A few times she repeated how she could not sleep – she was just too excited about the nighttime visits (yo, kid, if you don’t go to sleep soon I’m going to fall asleep and there will only be one visit).  Eventually Big Guy came in to go to sleep and I still hadn’t gotten the job done. 

But not long after he came in it happened – the breathing became a little deeper and I figured it was time.  I was ready and sure I could do it – these hands have decorated many a cake and can be quite steady and sure.  I had the money in hand and slowly snaked it under her pillow, gently feeling for the tooth box (yeah – I convinced her to put it in a little box so the tooth fairy could find it more easily – technically this was not a lie), confident I would be done in no time.  And then I heard “Mom is your hand under my pillow?”  Seriously?  Clearly I am not Mission Impossible material because I thought I was being quite the pillow pick pocket.  “Um yeah, just making sure everything is in the right place- you've been moving so much.” That’s when Big Guy stopped his chuckling and jumped in with an inspired idea (co-parenting in action!).  “Hey since you are having trouble sleeping do you want to sleep in the living room on the chair tonight?”  First of all, she always wants to sleep there and second of all, yes, when there are five of you in a one bedroom apartment, a chair becomes a sleeping option.  She jumped at this at about the same time Big Guy clearly remembered the fully loaded leprechaun trap sitting in the kitchen in full view of the chair (again, two rooms – not much space to operate – take that Mission Impossible with your 47 room mansions where there is always somewhere to go when the job goes wrong to make a phone call or meet a beautiful woman for 30 seconds of cool flirting).

Big Guy was fast on his feet (back?  He was still in bed) – quickly said that there was stuff on the chair and he would go set it up for her (let me make the chair for you so you can sleep on it) and call her when it was ready. Of course in the meantime she had to check if the tooth fairy had come yet. And I’m thinking – "well, she tried but you had to be all 'Mom is that your hand?'" Meanwhile it is now going on toward 11:30 and if you recall from the beginning I can't stay up late. At this point I'm close to just saying "for the love of sleep I'm the tooth fairy and Daddy's the leprechaun so just go to sleep so we can give you money and gifts. As if you don't get enough of them through the rest of the year. We're Santa and the Easter bunny too." I can tend toward cranky when I’m really tired.  It is a testament to my steely self control and parenting skills that I did not actually blurt this all out.

Finally he was back to shuffle her out to her bed/chair at which point she asked "should I take the tooth with me?" Good lord will this night ever end? Thankfully the law of gravity was on my side as the recliner she would be sleeping on was so old it didn't actually stay in a reclining position for long...and she understood that the tooth fairy couldn't spend so much extra time searching for one child’s tooth when she had so many visits to make that night – if she ran out of time it wouldn’t be fair to the other kids (she gets her practicality and thinking of others from me I’m proud to say – my close call in destroying her childhood beliefs because I was tired and cranky aside).

So off she went to sleep on a broken recliner and in about two seconds I had replaced tooth with money.  Operation Paddytooth was complete.  And a bonus:  I realized I had the entire floor and the blanket to myself for the whole night. How luxurious. This all worked out okay after all...

Facebook would be fine if it weren't for the dumb posts...

Let me start by saying that I am not anti-Facebook.  First of all, if nothing else, I find lots of awesome cartoons on it and it keeps me laughing and I share them and hope others laugh too.  It also gives me lots of opportunities to keep in touch with people I have known and been fond of in my life, keep people up-to-date on some big happenings in my life that are not too personal to share with many (it was a great help during Sandy) and is also a great source of support and information in many cases (I am currently part of a group for people in my area affected by Sandy and it is immeasurably helpful in terms of information and general support).  And, did I mention I find lots of cartoons?  Yes, it always comes back to humor with me.

But with that said, I’m sure you will not be surprised to find out that I have a few opinions on some of the ways that people use Facebook and I thought I would share them.  This doesn’t have anything to do with the Facebook technology itself or its strange and changing rules and set-up but rather some of the types of posts I see on a pretty regular basis that, quite frankly, drive me crazy:

- The “I’m having a cup of coffee” post.  Could there be anything more unnecessary than proclaiming to the world that you are drinking a morning beverage?  Or similar status updates like “eating a muffin,” “watching The View,” “going to the bathroom” (I made up that last one but really it’s not that far off). Seriously, before you post something, think about whether you would ever call someone to tell them this information.  I think it is a good idea when it comes to technology to use “would I do this in person” as a guideline.  Don’t say something in an email if you wouldn’t say it to someone’s face and don’t post it on Facebook as a standalone comment if you wouldn’t use it as a conversation starter.  Okay:  if someone calls you and says “what are you doing?” and you answer “I’m sitting here just having a cup of coffee.”  Not okay: dialing the phone and upon hearing hello without any further preamble announcing “I'm drinking tea.”

- The “I’m so busy I don’t know how I’ll get everything done” post. Here’s a suggestion – get off Facebook. Your productivity will soar.  Enough said.

- The vague drama post: “I am done being used”  “It’s times like these you know who really cares about you”  “I can’t take this anymore”  “How many more beavers have to die” (I made that last one up).   OK, not to kick someone when they are down, but good God, this is pathetic.  You might as well hold up a sign saying “just checking to see how many people care enough about me to ask what’s wrong and then I am going to bask in the attention but still probably not tell them what’s actually wrong because in all actuality it’s pretty minor or actually will make me look bad which is why I am not actually talking to anyone about it.”   And then everyone takes the bait:   “what is it?”  “are you okay?  What happened?”  “you are awesome, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise” (my personal favorite - you don't even know the story and they're just awesome?) “twelve more beavers need to die to enter the Matrix”  Yup, last one is made up again.

- The “name a [insert person/place/thing] without an [insert letter] in it”  I am going to shoot someone if I keep seeing these.  I love a challenge and the first time I saw one of these I fell for it and believed it was actually going to be a challenge.  Not true – so easy it was sad.  “Name an animal without an “e” in its name.  If you can do this in 5 seconds you are a genius.”  I’m pretty confident of my intelligence but I don’t think I’m a genius if I thought of dog.  Or pig.  Or cat.  Or alligator.  And they didn't even take 5 seconds each.

- The “if you don’t like and share this photo than you don’t [support our troops/want to end cancer/like kids/have a heart].”  Well that seems fair and logical – that the essence of my charitable soul will be determined by this split second in which I choose whether or not to share this picture.  I would have thought donations I have made and hours I have volunteered and friends I have cheered would come into play somewhere, but so be it.  I’m throwing caution to the wind and embracing my inner rebel and not sharing or liking it.  So there!

- The "it's 2 am and I should be sleeping" post.  Then turn off your computer and go to bed.  Have problems with insomnia?  Have you not seen a single study that says looking at electronics like TVs and computers affects your ability to sleep?  There are like a zillion of them.  If you had spent a single second researching ways to fight insomnia (and thereby solve your problem) rather than posting useless comments on Facebook you would have seen them.

- The “at the gym on the treadmill” post – “Wow, that is just so impressive, your working out and everything.  I am so impressed with your workout ethic and commitment to health and fitness.  No wonder you have been looking so good in your photos lately.”  I am assuming that is what you want everyone to think and say about this post.  I do have a question, though – how the hell do you expect your workout to be effective if the speed you are going still allows you to type a Facebook post? 

These are a few of mine – what’s your least favorite Facebook post? Let ‘em rip!