The Lily Collection

I have been spending a lot of time with Lily, my little girl.  Mostly because she is my little girl, but also because my hubby has been gone for quite a while.  Military, eh.  She is teaching me a great many things.  The first is adaptability.  I made her a cape for Halloween.  It was epic.  She was Little Red Riding Hood.

Super cute, yeah.  Well, Halloween is over and I'm not in the habit of making her many things to wear, so she decided to take that little cape to the next level.  Instead of being sad she couldn't be Little Red any more, she became a super hero.

For the past month and a half I have a tiny human running through my house yelling "TO THE RESCUE."  She never seems to rescue anything.  Watching her run in that though reminds me of when the hobbits were running for the little raft in the first Lord of the Rings movie.

Speaking of small and tiny humans.  I have also learned from her that it is never a good idea to take technology for granted.  She and I went to the commissary recently.  Lily likes to walk in the grocery instead of riding in the cart.  So, instead of walking to the cart return next to the front doors, she heads into the building. 

I wasn't really worried about her walking a few feet in front of me until I realized just how bad of an idea sending a 3 foot tall 30 lb kid through automatic doors.  Instead of freaking out when the doors started closing just as she was standing in between the closing doors, I ran pushing the cart I had hoping the sensor would see me coming and open before Lily got mashed.

I did make it in time.  No mashed baby, and she was still clueless about the nature of these evil doors.  Judging by the horrified look on the face of the woman I almost ran into, the above illustration isn't what she saw.  She may have believed her presence saved a little girls life.  Surely, the following illustration is what she thought she saw.

Well, she may have thought she saved Lily's life, and that's OK.  I'm not going to act like I haven't wanted to mow Lily down with a shopping cart.  I would never do such a thing.  I do get frustrated with her.  Especially lately.  With her daddy gone on military work, she has become very needy and clingy.  I feel like every few seconds I hear her calling my name.  Rather, she's calling my "Mama" name.  I've told her before I'm going to change my name to something she can't pronounce. 

Never mind how obnoxious or attention hungry she may seem, I do love every minute with her.  Unless it's minute 9872348295.93.  In which case, you may refer to the above illustration.

Some Things Should Not Happen

I like to think I'm an OK driver.  I pay attention, follow the traffic laws, and most importantly, I'm a defensive driver.  This means I watch out for other people doing stupid things, even if I have the right of way.  Let's test some common sense.

OK, so this is a basic diagram of an intersection I drive through every day when I pick up my daughter after I leave work.  I'm usually caught by a red light in lane A.  So I wait my turn with my left turn signal on.  Assuming the red dots are red lights, and the green arrows are the green arrow lights for lanes A and B, it is correct for lanes A and B to accelerate and turn left and go about their business, right?

No.  It is not correct.  Before accelerating and turning left, you must check the other lanes for on coming traffic.  No matter how red their light is, you must still check.

It is necessary for you to check the other lanes, because lane C is frequented by unsafe drivers, also known as idiots.  Before I drove off from my position in lane A, I was cut off by a car turning left from lane C.  Not only was I cut off by some jerk running a red light in lane C, well...just look.

I was cut off by THREE FREAKIN' CARS!  All while my light was green...and theirs was red.  Red does still mean stop.  And while sitting there thinking of the injustice of the whole situation, I became more and more upset.  By the time Car 3 drove by my car, this is the view they had of me in my car:

Situations like this should not happen.  I never once set foot into a drivers' education class, but I have the common sense to stop on red and go (after checking my surroundings) when the light turns green.


Another situation that shouldn't happen is hitting a little closer to home.  Actually, this happened in my home just the other day.

This is my little girl's room.  Messy...always covered in books, blankies, anything that can be used in arts/crafts, toys, and anything she pulled out of her closet.  In a moment of incredible discipline, I decided to clean my house.  I cleaned her room and started catching up on laundry.  This is a big deal.  I really dislike laundry.  It was worth it.  I like for Silly Bug to have a clean room. 

Looks nice, doesn't it.  Silly Bug was excited about it because she was helping Mamma pick up the toys and other things she left in her bedroom floor.  She likes being helpful.


I finished cleaning Silly Bug's room and took her dirty clothes and blankies into the laundry room where I started folding the freshly dried load of laundry straight out of the dryer.  About that time I hear Silly Bug yelling to me.

I don't mind letting her have snacks.  I even have a whole section in the door of the refrigerator full of things she's allowed to have for snacks right where she can see them.

When I heard her open the refrigerator door, I didn't mind.  Not only does she like to be helpful, she also likes to feel independent.  So I finished folding the last few items in the dryer (because if I didn't do it then, I wouldn't do it EVER) before I went to see if Silly Bug got her cheese snack.

Here's the part that shouldn't happen.  I find Silly Bug in her newly cleaned room.  She didn't have cheese.  She didn't have any of her designated snacks...

...and she had made a very big mess.

My motivation did not endure.  I cleaned up the eggs...but the rest of the laundry and her egg covered jammies got as much attention as the red light in lane C.

Work

I've mentioned a couple times that I really dislike my job.  I figured I might as well get it out of the way and tell you why.  For one, I have a college degree I'm not using.  For two, I'm in retail.  The rest should be self explanatory.  Outside work, I'm pretty cool.  At work, I believe my happiness drains as soon as I clock in.  Visual aid is hardly necessary...but here goes.

I wouldn't say that it's just working in general that makes me less than blissful.  I don't like the general masses of people I have to deal with every day.  Not to say I'm antisocial and mean; I have actually had some great conversations with customers who come in the store.  Talking about good movies, good music, and zombies all day...yeah, there are way worse ways to throw away my potential in life.  There are those fair few, though.  You know the ones.  The creepers that don't respect your personal space or the hag with death breath.  Those are bad enough, but then the simpletons come out to play.

I will admit, I'm always tempted to say no.

Enough about how the general mall-going public can suck.  Let's talk employers.  As soon as I walk into the store on my first day back to work since my non-biological sister's visit, my boss says, "Jeni, read this over and sign it.  One more strike will result in termination."  Yeah, sure, I don't really think it'll break my heart.  I've never kept a job for more than 6 months (except the one at the funeral home that didn't pay me).  The next day:

So, they are seriously ready to fire their most recent Employee of the Month.  Whatever.  I can sell people anything as long as I have time to talk to them, and no manager standing around.  It seems every time I make any kind of mistake, my 2nd in command manager is around and she yells at me in front of customers and I'm really f***ing sick of it, but I have these things called responsibilities, and unfortunately, those responsibilities require money.  I can't quit.  I just quit my last job 3 months ago.  However, if the bookstore I just applied to calls me back, ZOOM!  I'm out.

Keep Your Excitement Under Control

I know it can be difficult for one to contain one's excitement.  Sometimes that excitement becomes apparent to those around you.  When that happens, it is possible that the situation can become awkward, embarrassing, or as I'm about to illustrate for you, shocking. 

I'm a good cook.  I'm not an Iron Chef, but for a home cook, I can do magic.  My non-biological sister came to visit me recently and I had made a pumpkin pie.  Let's watch as the scene unwinds.

After watching a bit of Iron Chef (the original one), we headed to the kitchen in a team effort to secure a piece of pie for each of us.

We grab some of the necessary supplies, like plates and forks, but she was standing in front of my knife drawer.  I have no problem asking for help when I need it, so I asked her to grab a knife for me to slice us some pumpkin pie.

Watch closely, here you're going to see her excitement hit a high note and become apparent (not that I blame her; even my pie crust recipe is flawless).

After the initial shock of seeing her with a knife fit for a 2 lb steak mean for a pie you could cut with an uncooked noodle, I laughed so hard I cried.

Moral:  Keep your excitement at a low simmer or uncontainable laughter will ensue.

Spider Nest

I'm not a big fan of work.  I actually really dislike my job.  I usually go out to my car while on break and read or play around on the internet via my phone for half an hour.  It's much needed relaxation and stress relief at it's best.  Today, I went out to my Explorer and got my peanut butter and jelly sandwich out of my purse as well as my bottle of water.  All ready to enjoy my pb&j and my book, I felt a little tickle.

Sometimes, a stray hair will fall loose from my ponytail and itch or tickle me, but this wasn't quite the same.

Yes, there was definitely something very wrong with this itch...it was moving...between my boobs.

 

Bracing myself for possibly the worst case scenario, I glance down.

Yes, as you may well have guessed by the picture or at least the blog title, it was a freaking spider.  I flailed, jumped, smacked at my boobs, and genuinely freaked out.  I'm not afraid of spiders...I'm afraid of spiders on my bare skin.  Especially the skin of such sensitive nature.

Not only was my pride and dignity squashed in the floor board of my Explorer, so was my sandwich.  Dammit.  This is all to say nothing of the crappy day I had at work inside the actual building.

Food + People = Culture

If you will, take a moment to realize I have mass quantities of vodka in my body.  OK.  Now let's begin. 

I believe the greatest thing any culture has to offer is it's food.  Everyone eats food, everyone but models anyway.  I bet you can tell me more about food of different cultures than anything else.  Tell me about Mexican food, Japanese food, Italian food, Greek food, Jamaican food...I'm sure you can name at least one very popular thing from each.  My favorite foods are usually that of my own culture.  The Southern Belle meets Average Redneck.  That's my food of choice.  I will tell you, though, that people who live this far north (CT) are completely unable to recreate the flavors of the south. 

Don't get me wrong, Connecticut does have some delicious food to offer, especially sea food and tiny restaurants in hole-in-the-wall settings that you never noticed until someone pointed it out.  As long as they don't try to do it like we southerners do, everything's fine.  Sweet tea does not exist up here; that stuff served here doesn't even count as real.  Ketchup is not an acceptable barbecue sauce.  Yes, potato salad does have mustard.  I tried to eat potato salad I ordered from a "barbecue" restaurant and I swear to you, all it had in it was potato, mayo, and maybe a little pepper.  That's crap.

Another thing that pains me is the lack of really good Mexican food.  I'm sorry, Taco Bell, but you're not real.  Back home, there are delicious places everywhere.  El Bracero's and La Potosina...om nom nom.

And last on my list of drunken food rants, is the whopper of all time.  IHOP pales in comparison and Huddle House's didn't get invited to the party either.  Instead of explaining all this to you.  Let me just show you this letter I got the other day.

For the golden delicious magic pillows they call waffles, and the manna of the gods we mere mortals named hash browns, I would walk five hundred miles then I would walk five hundred more.  Most people from here have never heard of Waffle House.  I have been gracing the booth seating of this crone-run establishment since I was a wee child.  I have eaten there during drunken stupors, dates with my husband, and even Christmas Day lunch.  Alas, the closest Waffle House is 233 miles from my poor deprived town.  And before anyone dares tell me IHOP is better or that it is the original, no, it isn't.  Waffle House started up in 1955, IHOP started in 1958, and Huddle House started in 1964. 

Hell...I wish I were sober.  I'm starting to get hungry.  The things I would do for some Taco John's food right now...So. Much. Better. Than Taco Bell.  I'm rambling.  Bye.

Things Not Created Equally

There are a great many things that are considered in the same classification by definition.  However, it is in the details these things differ.  I believe some of these details are so distinct that the objects/ideas/beliefs shouldn't even share a category.
 Let's take tea for example.  There is nothing that soothes the savage beast any better than a fresh glass of sweetened tea.  And it can't be too sweet or it gets so nasty that you may find it served in an Asian restaurant or a McDrive-Thru.  Gross, yeah?  If you don't add ice, fake a British accent while you drink it and use honey in place of sugar.  Let's not forget, good tea is strong and hot poured directly over a FULL glass of ice.  Not always will you follow the same recipe and get the same result.  It may be less than or equal to the desired effect.  See?

Another thing that is in the same category but really shouldn't be...addictions.  Some people are alcoholics, drug addicts, repeat sex offenders, gamblers, kleptomaniacs, pyromaniacs, and (like myself) bibliophiles.  Yep, that's right.  I'm addicted to the collecting and reading of books.  It is an addiction.  I have no withdrawals, I break no laws, I neglect no priorities or responsibilities, but I'm magnetically drawn to books to the point I will buy a book before I buy new shoes or go to a movie.  I save money just to get new bookshelves so I have room for new books.  When I have an empty shelf, I have a MIGHTY NEED to fill it.  I feel as though my room is lacking a soul until the shelf is filled.  Vicious cycles begin when I buy one book more than my shelf can hold.

If you walked in early to an AA or NA meeting, and saw someone indulging in their addiction, you may have significant concern for their well being.  No one wants to stand by and witness someone drinking alcohol like water or putting drugs into their body.  If you walk into a Bibliophiles Anonymous meeting a few minutes early and saw someone curled in a cozy corner with a book the reaction would be very different.  Maybe an "oh, that's nice to see a human without a cell phone glued to their face" would be the expected reaction.  See.

Unbelievable Pain + Super Gross = Pink Eye

When you have a cold or other mild illness, people may joke and say "stay away from me" or "you better not get me sick" all the while wearing a smile on their faces.  However, I am here to tell you pink eye is the new leprosy.  Everyone looks at you with pained faces, ask you if you know your eye is blood shot, and some even get teary eyed themselves.  Even gross things like bugs and hobos look at you as though you need a bag over your head.  While it isn't usually a good idea to "go pirate," here on my third day of hell that is pink eye, rocking a pirate patch doesn't seem like such a horrible idea.  I look like I have been crying for three days straight.  Oh, wait...I have.

Nothing goes right when you have pink eye.  I'm afraid to go near my child for fear of contaminating her, but my "neglect" is making her sad.  Vicious cycles of guilt, pain, and runny eyes and nose plague my every minute.  I also have the flu.   I don't remember how, but I must have made God very angry.

Small Wonders

I have a weird history with doctors.  I once went in for my annual lady check up, and once my exam was over I was told I needed to have a series of tests done on my thyroid.  This morning, I went in for what I assumed was a sinus infection and pink eye, but before my visit was over they had me hooked up to an EKG machine. 

Well, crazy doctor's office visit aside I decided to do some good southern remedies with comfort food and a good long bath.  I started a pot roast around 8 this morning, and followed my plan of a bath.  The bath didn't happen at all.  Something about finding a huge hairy spider in your tub just takes the appeal right down the drain.  Darn it, I still had that pot roast to look forward to.  Five o'clock this evening, I pulled the lid off the crock pot to reveal the most glorious pot roast I had ever made, I grabbed a fork and tasted.

five minutes later, I was on the phone with my mother.  "Momma, I have the flu and pink eye.  I'm in the middle of my monthly lady week, and I'm pretty sure I'm about to get fired from my crappy job.  The worst part though...I can't taste my pot roast."  She laughed.

While over the next two hours my sinuses got worse, my eye started hurting so bad I couldn't open it, my headache throbbed, and my throat stayed swollen.  However, I was forgiven whatever I did to deserve all that.  I sat down between my daughter and husband at the table with my plateful of comfort food, I drank some sweetened iced tea with lemon, and took a bite of my roast.  It was delicious.

Moral:  Enjoy what you can, when you can.  Even if it means eating with one eye closed.