Where's the love, man?

My mom had mild surgery last week and I had to do some serious mom sitting... no big deal... just really glad she got a good report and every thing was ok. But she had scheduled a garage sale for this week, I mean, the ad had already been published in the paper and she could not get every thing ready nor could she run the sale by herself. So my sister and I took turns Mom-sitting, getting ready for the sale, and helping out at the sale this week.

With all this fantastic fun on my horizon, I was really looking forward to this week. Well, actually I was looking forward to the end of this week. Because, obviously the week needed something to spice it up a bit, make things a little more up-beat. Me... I came up with the perfect solution. I got sick. Not just any sick, mind you, but "I think I'm dying because of my allergies... no maybe it's a cold, ... wait, it's settled in my chest it must be bronchitis... No, No, it's progressed to pneumonia" kind of sick. Thank goodness my sister was able to help finish up the garage sale preparations while I coughed and moaned.

Well the fun picked up on Wednesday when I had to begin my work week. I actually was feeling better but the kid decided she'd like a bit of what I was having and by now she was starting to look a little beyond help, although she did manage to drag herself off to work too. We have both been wishing we had at least been in a train wreck to justify our constant groaning due to the impending arrival at our door of the death angel.

I have managed to do my tour of duty on the job, help some with the sale preparations and I even got to sit in my mom's garage, sweat, and watch time crawl bye very slowly. But today is the last day of the work week, the last day of the sale... and it will soon all be history. Now that it is finally winding down, I am pleased to see that I have survived it quite successfully. I'm just looking forward to the weekend so I can sweep the floors and do some laundry. wheeee!

But despite all this up-beat chatter, actually, I'm a bit stuck in miry pit of gloom and despair. You see, today is my birthday! And, honestly, the way this week has gone, even I had forgotten it. I was reminded when the kid rasped out a phlegmy "happy birthday" this morning as we were trying to get ourselves motivated and out the door to work. So now, here I sit, all wrapped up in wondering why my birthday has to be so crappy. Yep, that's me, sitting here in the middle of this fantastic party, fantastic pity party, that is. Absolutely, all by myself. Completely ignored by the entire world at large. Do you feel my pain? Do you? Do You? Maybe just a tiny bit?

It's almost noon and I haven't received one silly ecard wishing me a happy birthday today. That's right, not one. What's wrong, people? Can you explain this! I have not received one single phone call to say "happy birthday, Anne". That’s right, not one. I mean really, not one.

And here at work... since i sort of retired last year... and only work a bit, they must have removed me from the employee roster... because I have not gotten a single crappy "howdy, happy birthday" from even one of my co-workers. In the past, someone would bring cookies or a cake to share during break time... but not today! No, not today. What is going on here, folks? Have I passed into the twilight zone? Can anyone see me? Do you even know I'm here?

Now all this bitching seems just a tad bit out-of-place coming from me... I really don't like people making a fuss over me... but today I have come to realize that I do like to get the token attention everyone gets... I really do! I do... I really do!

So I ask you...

Where's the love, man, where's the love? It's my birthday for cripes sakes. Bring on the birthday cheer! I need a Happy Birthday up in here! at least one. don't make me beg!

please

Thank You????

Just because I hate them so much… And needed a good place to vent.

These “thank you” commercials make me crazy.

Just tell me, girls, if you were grocery shopping and another shopper came up, placed her hand on your tummy and said “oh, you’re having a boy!” and you in astonishment reply “I’m not pregnant”... she has the audacity to respond “Thank you.” Not "excuse me," or "i'm sorry," but "Thank you!"... WHAT?

Now tell the truth - Would you have waited for that particular “thank you” or would you have (before she had a chance to reply) decked the ho, upended her into her shopping cart then pushed her - cart and all into the meat locker and slammed the door on the bizzatch!

Or how about the gal out to dinner with her guy and asks “are we ever getting married?” and he hems and haws around a bit then answers “Thank you”. She gets all swooshey and says “you’ve never said that to me before.” WHAT?

How long has she been dating this go nowhere scumbag… and he has never on any occasion said “thank you”… and she’s all happy about it. I mean… what she should have done is toss her liquid beverage in his face and stomped out of the restaurant. I don’t know who’s the least likable character in that commercial; the sidestepping guy or the dumb girl.

Furthermore, you could ask me a hundred times what they were advertising in these ads… and I couldn’t tell you. I get too upset by the idiotic idea that you can get out of a bad situation by smiling and saying “thank you”… now I believe “thank yous” are important… but really, now!

and since i'm lamblasting commercials... do you pity the poor woman who opens an envelope from the bank and a desert island starts pouring in, completely destroying her home and leaves her kerplunk in the middle of nowhere... where her lawn is supposed to be ... a little grass, skads of strangers and my guess: no plumbling, not even the outdoor type. yeah, that's worth getting excited about! the lesson i get from this commercial... any envelope i get from that bank: DON'T OPEN! Ever!

For my Litkicks Pals and Other Friends

The Bulletin Board

I have always loved post cards. Glossy photos can be picked up anywhere for a pittance and so whenever I go anywhere I always bring back a couple postcards of my trip.

My love for them increased when my daughter spent one semester in Venice and as she traveled around Europe she sent me a card from the beautiful places she visited. I proudly displayed them on my bulletin board at work.

As I began exploring the world wide web and making a few friends when the first asked what I would like from them I replied “send me a post card.” My first one arrived from Van Couver in Canada. I thought that was so cool that I shamelessly posted a request on one of the bulletin boards at LitKicks ( http://Litkicks.com a most awesome place to connect with friends from around the globe) and emailed my address to those who wanted to send me a postcard.

They soon began arriving. I had cards from Australia, New Mexico, Texas, New York, New Jersey, Michigan, Indiana, Michigan, Florida, New Orleans, Germany, Wales, England, Yemen and Virginia. I added these to my bulletin board and it quickly began filling up. I soon had too many and at one time one wall of my office was covered with the beautiful postcards I had received in the mail.

This wall made a tremendous impression on those who came to my office and a great way to share a little bit about myself, although I had to explain that these were not places I had traveled but represented the homes and travels of my friends from around the globe.

My work buddies soon wanted to get in on the fun and soon were also sending cards to me from their vacation spots. At one time I had centered a sign in midst of the postcards which read Litkicks Pals but because so many others began contributing I had to take it down. One gentleman whose business brings him into my office even sent me a card when he and his wife visited Denmark this last spring.

When I retired, I continued working a few hours a week, which meant I had to give up my office with the post card covered wall. The first thing I did to make my new work space really mine was to find a way to display my postcards. Unfortunately, they didn’t all fit but I found a way to expand my space and soon had them out for everyone to enjoy again.

Now I worry that continued exposure to light is causing the cards to lose their brightness and because they are so special to me I am going to take them down and put them in an album. But before I do, I just wanted to share them with you.

My Messy Work Area is made tolerable by the view.


Closer Views




So if you are ever out wandering about, feel free to drop me a postcard. I'd love to add it to my collection.

It was just a "so long"

Wheh!

My mom celebrated her 90th birthday on Saturday. We kids had been looking forward to some family time while doing something special to let mom know how great we think she is.

Company began arriving last week. My niece Amy and her daughter Julie were going to be our guests for the weekend. I had been busy getting a place ready for them and was excited when they arrived. Julie is 2. She is a wonderful, terrible two. How were we to know that spending a weekend watching Winnie the Pooh, Blues Clues and singing with Barney could be so much fun? It was awesome.

In fact, the entire weekend was awesome. At one point we kids had to get a group picture taken. So there we were. Mom with my brother Royce, me, brother Jim and sister Phyllis… and even at our ages we couldn’t behave long enough to get a serious picture taken.


Worthy of note is that Mom always looks dignified and serene. I guess her ability to maintain her cool around such shenanigans explains how she managed to raise 5 kids and not lose her mind.

It did get a bit “touch and go” when my nephew Greg’s kids brought their dog, Gizmo, to the party. She was a hit right away, of course, she’s adorable. The touch part came when my daughter while holding the dog, turned her puppy dog eyes on me and said, “See how cute. I want a dog, Mom”. But I was tough and we haven’t made any arrangements to go out and get one of our own and the crisis soon passed.

We hung out a lot, ate way too much food. Told stories on each other, remembered the ‘good times’ hugged a lot of necks, but finally family slowly said their goodbyes and we watched them get into their cars and leave. Amy and Julie left on Sunday night. I walked back into my house with not even an echo of Barney reverberating through the rooms. The house was too quiet, too empty.

My brother James (Amy’s father) hung around a bit longer. It was great having extra time with him and I took full advantage ignoring things I probably should have been doing and enjoyed having him around. He came over with mom this morning for breakfast and we sat around the table talking about things, looking at pictures, but too soon he said “I’ve got to go”, reaching out for a goodbye hug.

I stood in the drive watching him walk away. He turned and said “I’ll be back before too long with Jimmie (his son). We want to get some things done for Mom.”

“When do you think you’ll be here?” I asked.

“Before the weather gets bad. Jimmie and I want to get some golf in while we’re here.”

This was one of those times I was glad some of my family members are golf nuts. It made saying this goodbye easier. After all, it won’t be long before I get to say another one.

Spiteful Discount

Once I hit the age of 55 my sister and my mom began quizzing me every time we sat down after going through the service line at any fast food establishment whether or not I had gotten my "senior's discount". Yeah, like I was going to admit I was old enough for that. Anyway at age 55 I didn't look old enough to qualify and to me that was worth paying the regular price for my soft drink. Mom would then inform me how much cheeper her meal was than mine. Fine with me. This woman is, after all, 28 years older than I am.

Without fail, I had this conversation every time we ate some place. I figured that once the employee at the service counter could figure out I was old enough to qualify... then by cracky, I'd start fessin' up that I deserved the cheeper rate. So for years I paid full price and grinned while paying it. I had gotten bye them again. I was still fooling them about my age.

Then last Sunday my mom and I stopped after church for lunch. I thought my meal was a little less than I had calculated in my head it should be. When I got to my seat I pulled out my receipt. Oh, Crikey! They've found me out. That young whippersnapper had given me a senior's discount without my asking him. I sat stewing at the receipt as my mom pulled out her chair and sat down. "Did you get your discount?" she ceremoniously asked. "As a matter of fact, I did" I snarled back ungraciously.

When I got home I made a trip to the bathroom mirror to examine my features more closely. Who exactly had I thought I'd been fooling, anyway. I stared at my gray hair and the skin now a little looser under my chin. It's caught up with me and that's all there is to that. I sat down at my desk, wrote out a check and mailed in my membership to AARP. Let's face it, I have arrived. Whether I act like it or not, I am now officially a senior citizen.