Wicked Wednesday

Sometimes it is okay to just be wicked, as long as no one gets hurt. Okay that is completely my rule not anything official from God or anything. However, sometimes the wicked thoughts build up and they need to bleed out a little or things get ugly. We all have a dark side...not all of us are Darth Vader bad, but perhaps a little sketchy like the odd characters in the Cantina bar. Yes, that was two Star Wars references in on sentence. I will stop with them before the geek police promote me. Anyway...it is Wednesday and I am going to be wicked. If you don't want to join me leave now.

Okay all the goody goodies left...see ya suckers. Let's have some fun.

1. Madonna almost falling at the Super Bowl half time show. So close to being the most awesome thing ever. She is not my favorite person. She indeed may be wicked everyday, not just on Wednesdays. Especially now that I have learned she is has no tour dates set in Michigan for her upcoming tour. Michigan is her home state. This is where she is from. Not New York. Not Great Britian. She is from Michigan. Quit being such an uppity shrew of a person. For some reason people still want to see your egotistical freak show. Just remember your roots. I will not be at any of her shows, anywhere, ever, even if I had free tickets and a limo.
2. We have new people in our neighborhood. There is a rental house, (thanks crappy housing market and foreclosures) across the street. I believe in the (demented) rental agreement that there is a clause about making sure the police show up at least once a week. Seriously. It is some kind of messed up situation over there. In the sixteen years I have lived on this street I have seen the police drive by perhaps six or seven times. Now that the new tenants moved in in December, no joke, police cars, at least once per week. Not just one squad car either, sometimes two or three. I have no clue why such a strong police presence is needed. Between you and me, I am guessing it is domestic disputes. Which is awful, especially since there is a child living there. I am mostly annoyed at the police for not removing people from the house. I guess the wicked part of this is my judgement of these people. I can not understand why you would chose to live like that, especially when a child is involved. My secondary wickedness is just wanting the whole situation to disappear because I am sick of explaining to my kids why there are police cars on our street. Domestic tranquility....NOW.
3. Spray tanning. It is wicked and ugly. A new season of Dancing with the Stars is around the corner. So looking orange is in fashion. Since when do people look better being the color of an Oompa Loompa? It is just stupid to me. Yes, I am as pale as a vampire. It suits me. Whatever color you are born is the color you are suppose to be. Please quit spraying and baking your skin different colors. It is gross. Not to mention unhealthy. Perhaps this is not being wicked, but just pointing out a general fact. However, I am using no tact or diplomacy in doing so, thus it qualifies as wicked.

So there. I bled a little of the awful stuff that has been building up. I recommend you also let go of some of the wicked thoughts, judgements, and opinions that you are holding inside. It is therapeutic and necessary to free yourself of these things. It will not make you the most popular person in the room, but could make you the most honest.

The Waiting Game

Today I have been sentenced to waiting. I am a horrible "waiter". It does not matter if it is for a repair person, or appointments, or for my color to process at the salon...I am a horrible, awful, no good, very bad "waiter". Today my "wait" is for a package from FedEx. No, the contents are not for me. It is my beloved's fancy new phone that requires a signature upon its arrival. It would not matter if it were for me, I am a hideous "waiter". I would still be writing a complaint blog even if I were waiting for the delivery of a million dollar check. Yes, I would. I know myself....perhaps too well.

It does not matter that I can get loads of stuff done around the house. The bathrooms will be cleaned, the laundry will get laundered, the floors vacuumed, the dust removed...you get the idea. This is one of those times where it is the principle of waiting. Society has made me (and perhaps others you know) bad at waiting because it is just not needed everyday. One hundred years ago I would have waited for bread to rise before I baked it. Now, I drive to the store and buy a loaf of bread or two. One hundred years ago doing laundry would have been a whole day process, I would have been waiting for clothes to air dry. Do not get me started on how annoying air drying clothing is, I have passed up some pretty great clothes because they could not be machine washed and dried. I hate to wait. In an earlier time I would have perished waiting, of this I am certain.

My kids are bad at waiting as well. I often tell myself it is their age and in time they will be better. Maybe it is my age and I will get better too? Although, I know it is very unlikely. I no longer pray for patience, knowing that I will only be given opportunities to practice waiting and overcoming my frustration. I embrace that I am person that just does not like waiting. I live in a world that mostly does not make me wait, so I just need to deal with the occasions that waiting is unavoidable.

The upside of being a bad "waiter" is I am insanely punctual. If I say we will meet at 9am, you better believe I will be there at 9am (probably 8:55 am). Being "on time" is a great source of pride for me, not a boastful pride, but I feel that people can really count on me to not make them wait. There is some innate belief that every person's time is valuable that compels me to be punctual. I call if traffic or other circumstance detains me, however most of the time I build in time for these occurrences, which is why I am early. Knowing all of this would make you think I surround myself with like minded, on time, bad "waiters", right? Wrong. Some of my closest friends are chronically tardy. Crazy, huh? Oddly, I do not get mad at these people. I do lie about meeting times with them so they are closer to on time. Yes, I do tell some people I will pick them up at 6pm, fully knowing I will not pick them up until 6:30pm. This method keeps me from being frustrated by waiting for them, and watching them rushing about because their "on time" friend is rolling her eyes, again. I do not think of it as lying, but as preserving our friendship through creative time management. It is a win-win.

Now, if only I could convince FedEx not make me wait and show up....now....Now...NOW. Okay, so perhaps it won't work with them. At least I will have fabulously cleaned bathrooms whilst I wait.

Five for Friday

Best part of a four day run of posts...my five random thoughts, musings, ideas, and oddities. You have no idea how much I look forward to this. This is kid in candy store time for me. Be thankful if I even write complete thoughts. Buckle up, I have had a heck of a week...

1. Dinner. I would pay any price to not have to plan dinners for just one week of my life. Yes, I have reached the end of my rope with dinner planning. Perhaps because the people I am cooking for have an uncanny way of never having any helpful suggestions, but complain about what is put on the table. It is crazy really. I ask every Sunday for suggestions, get blank stares and slack jaws, and no recommendations. Then lo and behold, Monday at dinner, groans about whatever is on the table. Please, either suggestions or a one week reprieve from dinners. Either way, I will be thrilled.
2. Movie recommendation. Go see Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. Yes, it is "the 9/11" movie. It is so much more. It is a tale of what can be found when something is lost. It made me cry and laugh. I went to see it on the opening night with my daughter, who read the book. She now has complete credibility in the book and movie recommendation department. Just see it. It is worth it.
3. Groundhog Day. Stupid and a waste of time. Why would I listen to a fat rodent to give me a weather report? The human weather forecasters are spitballing it most the time already, and once a year they consult a hibernating animal. Utter silliness. Done with it.
4. Nail polish. I honestly believe I type faster when I am wearing nail polish. I also know that is not true. If anything the weight of lacquer on my nails should slow them down. Yes, this is random and silly...it's Friday, so it's fair game. I think I just like seeing my nails with color on them better than plain nails. FYI, my favorite polish color lately is a cement grey shade. I was in a huge black phase for awhile, so the cement grey is really light for me.
5. Confession is good for the soul. This weeks confession is....yikes...I really thought something would just flow after that. Let me think. Oh yes, I really am not a fan of Valentine's Day. Even though I have been in a relationship for the past 19 years, and I am wild about my beloved. I am just not a romantic holiday person. It seems very staged and contrived. If you want to give me flowers, give me flowers. Do not wait for a set date on the calendar. Yes, I am girl. Just not a huggy, fluffy, puffy, dreamy, be my Valentine, kind of girl. And I really do not like flowers that much either, but the gesture is nice. Jewelry is okay, just nothing with hearts, that is lame. And my beloved does not read this...so all that gift evaluation was utterly pointless.

Have a great weekend. Do not over do it at your Superbowl Party.

The Sorry Solution

I have recently come to recognize an odd verbal tic that my friends and I share. It is the compulsive urge to apologize for everything. We say sorry so often it is sick. The word "sorry" is bounced around so much that it has lost its meaning. Apologizing when you have wronged someone intentionally or unintentionally, is the good, right, and proper thing to do. I certainly do not advocate being am insensitive jerk. My friends are far from being jerks. I would wager some of them have apologized for the debt crisis, world hunger, and perhaps even the actions of the Unibomber. The way my "sorry" bunch of comrades uses the word "sorry" is like confetti at a parade. Here are some examples...

"Sorry your dog ran away". (Even though I did not leave the gate open)

"Sorry your chai tea is bland". (Even though I am not the barista and I know we are not the kind of people to have someone remake a beverage, even if it's awful)

"Sorry those shoes gave you blisters". (Even though you told me a 9.5 on a size 10 foot may cause that, I am still sorry)

"Sorry you burnt dinner". (I am even sorrier that you will have to listen to your kids complain about it)

Okay, some of the above examples are real and some are slightly exaggerated, but all are things either one of my friends, or I, have actually uttered. We need a new word or a new way of dealing with each other's misfortune. I have pointed out to one friend that she need not say "sorry" about something stupid I have done that has made my life temporarily tricky to deal with, if not completely miserable. It just is not necessary to apologize for something you have done nothing to cause. It is just cheapening the word "sorry". The when you really need to be sorry, the word is void of meaning.

I would much prefer empathy, to the straight out,and constant sympathy. Yes, there is a difference. Empathy, is when someone shares a similar tale of woe or angst so as to make the first person feel like they are not the biggest idiot on the planet. Sympathy, the saying of "sorry" in these woeful situations, just makes the person who has blundered feel incompetent. As if losing your dog, having blisters, drinking a bad hot beverage, and eating a burnt dinner is not punishment enough. What I need is a "stupid matching" or even better a "stupid one upping". Yes, instead of saying sorry and being sympathetic, just "out dumb" me. Dig deep and pull out a personal shame of such magnitude that it erases, or at least severely dwarfs my ridiculousness. Let us dispose of our "sorry", and be true friends and pump each other's egos. Let me walk away thinking..."Well, at least I am not that messed up", (as I go to purchase blister block bandages at the closest CVS).

Throwing it Away

I have lamented on the mess that is my daughter's room. It is insanity. Clothes everywhere, papers on the floor, sheet music scattered, stuffed animals, all kinds of clutter. I complain on a constant loop to her about how horrid her room looks. I hate hearing myself, really I do. It is soul killing to henpeck her like I do. Soul killing for both of us. The fact is, yes her room looks like a bomb went off in a clothing store, but she never loses anything. She can find everything. Even worse she can find everything fairly quickly. The argument for order seems pointless, as she has her own order. Instead of preaching the gospel of throwing stuff away, and keeping good order, I am moving on. I am throwing away the constant nagging, and closing her bedroom door if she does not want her room clean. She is not embarrassed to have her friends see her messy room. In fact a couple of her friends are "neat freaks", and have commented on the mess. This does not phase my young messy one. She says things like, "My room. My way.". Oddly, she says it as if she has refrained from judging them on their tidy ways. Perhaps that is my clue that it does in fact take all kinds of people to make the world go around. The neat & messy, the morning people & night owls, the loud & quiet, the savers & spenders...so many different opposing personality traits. None of them really bad or wrong, just different. Judging a person, especially my own daughter, by my personal standards that are based on my preferences, is the thing that needs to be thrown away. I also know that in time she may evolve into a tidy person. If I reflect back on my own teenage bedroom, there was generally an unmade bed, and discarded outfit options from the morning rush to look "just right". Which in the mid-1980's, "just right" is a relative term, since photographic evidence provides some pretty cringe inducing fashion choices. Currently, I would not say I am a "neat freak", but I do not have dishes piled in the sink (ever), my bed is always made, and the clothes are put away 85% of the time. The health department would not condemn my house, but Martha Stewart would have a considerable list of "good things" I could do to make it better. I have evolved from my teenage messiness, and so too may my daughter. I am pretty sure my nagging will have nothing to do with it. Anyway, she is a neat person in her wit, creative endeavors, intellect, and just being fun to around. This momma is choosing to embrace her neat daughter, with a very messy room. And throw away my nagging.

The Cereal Solution

Using swear words, cusses, potty words, and gutter talk is a personal vice. In the past I have celebrated that I have a very unrestrained vocabulary. Honestly, these are just words and somehow they got a bad reputation, I have no idea how or why or when. The fact is some words have a bad reputation. Such is life for these sad marginalized denizens of "word world".

I get the not taking the Lord's name in vain, it is after all one of the Ten Commandents. I also fall short on this one, but so you know, I feel bad about it and try really hard. The backstory on my blasphemy is my father invoked the name of the son of God very often throughout my childhood. He even had a middle name for Jesus, it is "Herman", in case you are wondering. Please do not run to your Bible to authenticate that, it's not in there. My father's blaspheming was a source of irritation for my mother, as it should have been. It is very hard to tell your children not to say or do something a parent does. It became a, "Do as I say, not as your father does", situation. It has become a bit of a family joke that my dad is perhaps the most religious man ever, since he calls upon the Lord several times a day. I however, I am working toward not misusing the Lord's name. It is just not right, and a horrible example for my kids.

However I still have the issue of the other "bad words" that I am prone to use, without any real shame. Admittedly I use them not just in moments of frustration, but in general conversation. I edit in situations. If I do not know you, I certainly do not get "colorful" in my speech. I am not a fool. However, I do not edit in front of my kids 100% of the time. In fact, I have gotten pretty lazy in the at home language edits. If I could have a seven second delay like live TV does, I am sure the censors could clean me up. Unfortunately, the technology is not likely to show up at my house for my daily use. My daughter has come up with a solution for me. The cereal solution. Everytime I need a swear word I am to substitute a breakfast cereal name. So an example would be, when a car pulls out in front of me I do not say, "son of a b****", instead I say "Capt. Crunch". I actually tried this exact thing yesterday, and it worked. I felt better, getting the frustration out verbally, and I did not have to say, "Pardon my French", to my daughter. She has long been informing me that "my French", seems a little sketchy. The "frosted flaking" dog also seems on board. She still moves out of the way when hearing a cereal command. I was slightly concerned she would just think I was going to feed her. It must have something to do with tone.

I am not sure how it is going to be in general conversation with people that have become accustom to my colorful language. I am not sure if I can pull it off without laughing in some instances, but who knows, it could start a cereal revolution. It's time to get off your Apple Jacks and clean up your Frankenberry mouth. Are you Nut Clusters with me? Can I get a, Wheaties yeah? It might work...maybe.

Making it Official

FYI- I am a writer. I am labeling myself based on self- reflection, (I always ask myself, "What are going be when you grow up?"...still not planning on growing up, anytime soon). It has been decided after years of writing journals, some blogging, and because writing is my preferred method of communcation (true fact, I love to text and e-mail socially). I am often asked by people to read a report or an article or even just a wedding invitation, before printing, for my opinion, "because you write". Technically, reading other people's written work and making suggestions and corrections would make me an editor, but they only ask me because I write fairly regularly. I am owning the "writer" part. Some people will say, you already were a writer...to you I say, sometimes I am slow to figure things out. To this end I am actually for the first time, going to submit writing to be published outside of my blog. It is scary and it is exciting. I will keep you posted since this blog is my favorite writing because it is whatever I want it to be. Wouldn't it be nice if the whole planet wanted to read my odd musings everyday? Just throwing that one out to the universe.

Also, since I am a writer now, it's official, I have started my novel. It's a idea, some notes, some characters (some that I am having my "consultant" help develop), but the story is growing in my mind and somewhat on paper more than any work of fiction ever has before. So, I'm totally a writer. A writer that is clever enough to seek out other smaller, less soul filling, but possibly better paying writing work, whilst I craft my novel. I guess I am a writer and a realist. That, my lovely reader, is a lot of revelation for a Monday morning.