Every time feels like the first time

Especially when you don’t do it all that often.

It’s tough, you know?  Trying to find an hour or two to fit a quickie in.

If I’m tired, I have no desire to do it.  If I’ve been working a lot, I prefer to just sit on the couch.  And when the conditions are just right, and I finally think “today’s the day!”, then my hubby’s not home.  And although I’ve done it a few times by myself, it’s always more fun to do it with him.

So when this afternoon rolled around, and the kids were at band camp, and we had no desire to pack stuff up…

we did it.

And it was as exhilarating as always.

 

We stopped at the lake and took a few minutes to watch the boats and listen to the seagulls.

Then we rode to Dairy King for some ice cream and a cold drink.

By this time evening was settling in.  The temperatures dropped a bit, and the ride home was cool and pleasant.  As I parked my Shadow in the garage I realized how much I had missed riding.  Hubby and I vowed not to wait too long before doing it again.  Heck, we may just do it again today.

Wild and crazy kids.

 

Check me out

Because I live so far from EVERYTHING, I will often stop for groceries on my way to or from work.

There’s one store in particular I just love.  It not only has a terrifically fresh produce section, and a great variety of organic and healthy foods, but it has a ton of self-checkout lanes too.

At the end of a long day at work, I’ve usually used up all my niceties, so the last thing I want to do is make small talk with a cashier.

Today, as I was checking myself out *ahem*, I heard an attendant ask “Do you need help?”

I looked to the register next to me.  An elderly lady, looking quite befuddled, replied, “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.  It keeps telling me to place the item in the bag.  And I am….”

I looked closer.   In her left hand she held a bag.  She demonstrated to the attendant that she was in fact placing it in the bag.

The attendant explained patiently that she needed to place the bag on the scale in order for the register to recognize that the item was bagged.

The lady was a little embarrassed, but the attendant quickly assured her it was okay.  That she was there to help and was quite happy to do so.

I admired the lady for trying the self check out lanes at her age.  At times, they’re even frustrating to me.

But at least I have yet to be embarrassed by them….

 

I’m a brunette. Really I am.

“Is it plugged in?” he asked.

“OF COURSE it’s plugged in,” was my curt response.  “I checked all the connections before I called.”

“Well, maybe it’s not turned on.  Try pushing the button on the back just once.”

I tried to be patient.  “I did that already too, but I’ll try again.”

Nothing.

“HE” was the wireless internet help guy, and he was being very patient and kind.  However, I KNEW the problem was on HIS end, so I wanted him to quickly move past the trouble shooting steps on MY end.

But he wasn’t giving up.  “Recheck the connections,” he suggested.  “Where is the power cord plugged into?”

Ummm…. where IS the power cord plugged into?

Suddenly I realized how dumb I was about to look,  I immediately rambled on about how I had checked all the cords that were plugged in to make sure they were connected securely, but I never thought to check if a cord was missing.

Turns out, the power cord was missing.

omg.  I felt this big.

I tried to mumble some excuses like “This is usually something the kids take care of for me, and they’re all gone right now, and I was just wanting to check my email, and, tell my blog friends I bought a Rubik’s cube today, and, and…….”

Internet help guy did his best to make me feel better.  “Well let me just make sure that you’re logged in and that you have access, since you’ve got me on the phone.”

So now, I’m logged in, and I have access, and…

I bought a Rubik’s cube today.  I haven’t held a Rubik’s cube since I was 13.  Memories came flooding back as I handed it to my 15 year old daughter.  Memories of trying diligently to follow the directions in the box on how to solve the cube.  Memories of being so jealous of watching others solve it, and being so enamored that they could do it in the blink of an eye.

I could only solve it by unsnapping the individual cubes and putting them back in the right way.  A few times of doing that and the cube doesn’t turn as smoothly.  Just so you know.

Mario figured it out in a day.  Heck, if I’d have had the internet back then, I could have figured it out too.  Either way, I was impressed.  And then I find out Amp is well known at school for his ability to solve it quickly.  Really?  How did I not know this?  Of course, I’m not surprised.  He’s a direct descendant of Einstein, of that I’m sure.  Einstein was a high school drop-out, and Amp would be too if I let him.  Einstein was slow to talk.  Amp too.  Einstein liked haircuts.  Okay, so they differ there.

Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say.  I wanted to share with my friends how cool it is to have a Rubik’s cube in the house after all these years.

And now that I have, the internet can go away again.*

__________

*There is NO way that I mean that for real.

 

Twas The Day

Twas the day before Thanksgiving, when all through the house, the creatures were stirring, along with the mouse.  The laundry was hung on the back of the chairs, in hopes that the kids would bring them downstairs.

I snuggled in the chair in my kitchen unclean, while visions of recipes danced on the screen.  With the coffee done brewin’ I came out of my trance and finally settled in for my Pinterest romance.

I jotted down ingredients, one after another, then sprang from my chair to brave the cold weather.  Away to the bathroom I walked to get dressed, threw open the closet and got down my sweats.

The sun on the hood of my quite dirty car, sparked a very sad feeling in my car-loving heart.  When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but Hubby in all of his winter gear.

He, the little old driver so lively and quick, I knew in a moment he must be bored stiff.  We started our journey to the store with such hope.   We’d be back in a few.  Ha.  That was a joke.

Some turkey!  Some taters!  Some cornbread!  Some stuffing! Now load it, and stack it, and push it while huffing! To the front of the line!  Place it all on the deck!  “Now Hubby, go pack the car!  I’ll write the check!”

And then in a twinkling I heard the clerk say, “I’m so very sorry, I made a mistake.”  “I’ll need all your groceries to scan once again. Please go get your hubby and explain it to him.”

His eyes how they glared.  His frown so unhappy.  He shook with the effort not to get snappy.  The look in his eye and the droop of his head, soon gave me to know he was quite full of dread.

She spoke not a word and got straight to her work.  Rescanned and rebagged with another nice clerk.  And laying my hand on my hubby’s slumped shoulder, I gave him the nod to go out where it’s colder.

He sprang out the door, to the car he did fly.  He restuffed the trunk while I told the clerk “bye”.  And I heard him exclaim as we drove off the lot, “The next time you come here, you can bet I will NOT.”

 

Neglect

When I was a little girl, I thought it would be so cool to have a real live plant in my room.  My parents, who knew way more about my abilities than I did, agreed to let me pick out a cactus.  Mom explained how it only needed a little bit of water, since it could store it in its stems.

I carefully placed it on my windowsill and gently placed a few drops of water in the pot.  That whole day I was a very dedicated plant owner.

I might have taken care of it for more than one day.  I don’t remember.  But I DO remember pulling up my shade one day and thinking Oh yeah!  I have a plant!

That plant, having been neglected for weeks, possibly months, was thriving.  It had grown almost twice it’s original size despite my neglect.  Or perhaps, because of it.

Many years later, I’m still neglectful of plants, trees, my garden, the lawn.  Until Hubby’s parents died and we inherited a few plants from the funeral, I’d given up on having plants in the house.  I realized how stress free it was to not have to care for yet one more living thing.  I figured it was more important to keep the kids alive.

So I let the plants go, and let the garden go, but kept the trees and the lawn (at Hubby’s insistence.)

We’re not huge care takers of our lawn.  We don’t water it, we rarely fertilize and spray for weeds, and we mow it only when absolutely necessary.  Yet it looks beautiful.

As I was out mowing today, it occurred to me how much nicer our lawn looks compared to our neighbor’s.  He’s a horticulturist.  His lawn should be putting ours to shame.  But his lawn gets mowed every other day by either him or his boys.   And they cut it short each time.

His lawn is very patchy, has lots of clover, and appears to be stunted.

Ours is virtually free of weeds, thick and green.  Seems like neglect is working in my favor again.  By letting the lawn grow, the thick grass is keeping out the weeds, and leaving us with a carpet-like lawn.   Not perfect.  But so much better than his.

What I don’t understand is why neglect isn’t working for my bathrooms.  I mean, I let them go for weeks, and when I go check on them, they’re not thriving at all.  Well, maybe something in there is thriving,  but it’s obvious they don’t like to be neglected.

So I guess neglect isn’t the answer to everything, although, after a few weeks of neglect my bathrooms look incredible when I finally do clean them.

 

The Champ

I got in a fight with the lawn today.

If you think I’m messed up, you should see the clumps I gave the other guy.

This all started because nobody had time to go out and mow it in between all the rains. So the grass took full advantage of the situation and grew and grew and grew.

Today, I decided to put an end to it all.  Early this morning, before the rains came, I took out my weapons. Knowing full well the grass would fight back by clogging up the mower, I had my hubby tie back the chute.

Powered with my mower, the gas can, and a stick, I stepped into the ring. 

I took most of my punches right away.  The grass was thick and slightly damp and clogged up the mower every few feet or so.  I managed to fight it off with my stick, pick myself up, and keep going.

As the fight went on, the grass began to weaken.  It no longer clumped up near the blades.  Instead, it fought back by flying out of the tied-back chute pummeling me in the face, the legs, the back…. no part of me was safe.

I didn’t back down, though.  Even when it began raining.  Even when the mower sputtered and ran out of gas.  I was determined to go at it til the very end.

As I cut the last blade off, I triumphantly pushed the the overworked mower through the drizzle and back to it’s resting place.

No sooner had I plopped down in my own resting place, did the rain begin to pour.   

With some clean clothes, dry socks and a hot cup of coffee, I celebrated my victory.

Of course the rain today will just cause another fight in the future, but for right now…

I am the Champ!

 

Memo

To:  Blog Assistants

From:  ShadowRun300

Priority: HIGH

—

Would someone please work on getting ice cream approved as a recommended carb for runners?  Keep in mind this may be a very difficult task to accomplish, but could prove to be quite beneficial to me all of us.

As well, someone needs to let Mother Nature know that the heat’s not working in our Spring.  It’s been two days now.  We need her to send someone out to the midwest to take a look at it.  ASAP.

Finally, I would like someone to tell the nearby college that they no longer need to send me “we’re looking forward to seeing you on race day!” emails.  I’ve had something come up, so I will not be able to make my scheduled appointment this Saturday.  (No need to tell them I’m saving myself for bigger and better things.)

Thank you for your help in these matters.  Your assistance will not go unnoticed.

—

Gawd.  I’m really loving my new Supervisor role.

THIS is how you get stuff done.

 

 

The F Word Revisited

I spent the last day of my “weekend” preparing for Valentine’s Day.

For other people.

I made chocolate covered strawberries for a co-worker.

Somewhat successful!

Then I made chocolate cookie hearts for my favorite Valentines.

Time consuming, but successful!

And right before bed I finished the ChocoFLAN Cake for Amp.

He needed a Mexican dish once again, and even though flan is my nemesis, I went for it.

After all, my sweet blog friend, TLI, promised me it would be easy and delicious.  And I promised her I would try one more time.

So I did.

And this time,I didn’t dump anything into the trash, and I only got mad once….. As the caramel seeped through the bottom of the only bundt pan I own.  A springform one.

And I knew the flan probably would too.  But I put the pan in the water anyway, shoved it in the oven, and didn’t look at it for the next two hours.

When I pulled the cake and pan of water out of the oven, I cringed as I saw boiled flan floating in the water.

I left it covered and pouted for the next 15 minutes.

Finally I decided to just take the foil off and look.

It almost looked like hers.

And then I flipped it over.

And the caramel drizzled out just like she said it would…..  but only down one side.

And the flan…. well what was left of it sat nicely on top.

Just like hers…….

 

 

Or not.

Amp eagerly tried a piece, thinking it looked awesome!

Then he tried another.

“It’s delicious!”  He declared.

Shew.

Maybe I’ll get an A.  HE!   Maybe HE will get an A.

Either way, I’m sitting here on Valentine’s Night, with my bowl of frozen carbs, missing my hubby down in Tennessee,but feeling pretty good,

Because I almost made flan.

 

Kismet

Sometimes you’re just forced to do the right thing.

At the hotel today, we had a guest come down to check out a day early.  For whatever reason, we hadn’t taken payment from her at check-in, (a big no-no, but some desk agents are a little lazy about some things).  So when Cory let her know he needed payment from her, she claimed that she had paid already.  Cory allowed her into our business center to check her balance online, but after a few minutes she just left the hotel.

He came back to where I was working and let me know that she’d skipped out on her bill.  We discussed how it happened, and reiterated the fact that payment wasn’t taken right away, and shook our heads over how we try to get everyone to follow procedures, but sometimes they’re like kids and forget easily.

Since we couldn’t balance the folio, we left the room checked-in while we decided what we were going to do.

I went back to my admin work, he went back to supervise the desk.

It wasn’t long before he came back again.

“She left her wallet in the room”, he gloated.

“How do you know?” I responded.

“Because she came back and told me she had.  And I told her that I couldn’t let her back up there until she paid her balance.”

We high-fived and celebrated our good luck.

The manager brought her up to the room, because of course she couldn’t pay without her wallet, and then he escorted her back down and straight to the desk.

Funny how things work out sometimes.

 

En-titled

I set a goal for myself to get through the stack of magazines that have been piling up on my chair.

I didn’t put an end date on it, I just made it a goal to get through them. Sometime or other.  But they continue to arrive in the mail each month, before I’ve had a chance to finish, or even start, the last one, so at this rate…  well, whatever…

Reading them isn’t necessarily a chore for me, but often I will put other things first:  blogging, running, baking, cleaning pinning.

But today, I decided to get through at least one magazine.

I dug to the bottom of my stack and came up with my oldest Redbook magazine.  As I was reading, I came across an article titled “What Your Mess Says About You.”

I’m a mess, so I was anxious to read all about it.

The first description was about “Pilers”

The article stated:  “Pilers tend to be efficient organizers, because they know to put the most important stuff on top and can quickly find things.”

I nodded as I read, proud of the fact that I actually have a title.

I am a PILER.

My book is on the very top.  Not because it’s the most important, but mainly because if it was in between or on the bottom, everything else would slide off.  (I know from experience.  Only took me a few times of cleaning up spilled bills to learn that the book must go on top.)

My book DOES, however, contain my most pertinent stuff.  Bills that are close to being due, notes that need almost immediate attention, dates that I don’t want to forget, all get stacked together and “bookmarked”, so to speak.  Anytime I sit down to read, I remove my bookmarks, and I’m reminded of the things I need to get to.  Soon.

Under my book are various papers: school notes, subscription renewals, the propane bill (I have yet to open that one ’cause it scares me), torn out recipes from previous magazines, and my resume folder that needs to be refiled. At the bottom of the pile are my unread magazines.

This pile rests on my bar stool if I’m away, and gets moved to the bar, if I sit down.  With each passing day it seems to get heavier, but I think that’s just the burden I feel of knowing I should be going through it as I push it aside to make room for my computer.

I feel a little better knowing that my organization style made the list, however.  Heck.  It even made number one!

And it’s true.  When Mario needs her picture forms, or I need to find the water bill, or Chip forgets when his hair appointment is, I go to my pile.  And within seconds I have pulled out what they are looking for.

“Typically, pilers are intuitive, practical, down-to-earth, and more relaxed.”

Yeah.  That’s a pretty good description of me. I won’t be worrying any more about having a pile of stuff on my chair….

Especially since it’s better than being a Big Banger.

“Big Banger – People who let a huge mess build up and then spend days cleaning it”

I am definitely NOT one of them.  I would never spend days cleaning anything.