Happy Birthday, Here's A Toothbrush

My mother was almost fanatical about recognizing birthdays, anniversaries and holidays; even the most obscure ones deserved a card. On some occasions I was almost offended when I was surprised the post office or bank was closed...because my mother had failed to notify me of an approaching holiday by wishing me a good one.

Flag Day, Arbor Day, even that kind of thing. She might not always have had a card for it but we heard from her -- sometimes it was just a postcard. Her favorite line went something like this, depending on the occasion: "It's [name the holiday] and I'd like to tell you how I feel...I feel fine, thanks."

Since my mom isn't around anymore to celebrate birthdays and holidays with little cards and all that kind of stuff, and everyone is going through a few years of getting used to it, I've been thinking it's important for all of us to honor that. I've been thinking it's important to at least recognize a few birthdays: Her sister's, maybe? Her closest cousin? Her best friends?

Well, I doubt I'm the first to inform you but...there's a long stretch between thinking and doing. Thankfully, my brother inherited the card-generating-gene and he appears to be filling the void, quite nicely in fact.

Because of that STUPID Facebook however, I realized it was my aunt's birthday and since I know she likes assorted chocolates and I had figured she might want to try some of NH's best, I purchased a box of chocolates for her. (Well Identified: Soft Centers).

The intent was to mail them, she lives in California.

I think they were in the car for at least a few days, but in NH, it was well below 40 and they weren't sitting in the sun, so I wasn't too concerned. I was already about a week late, so what did it matter?

I ended up cleaning out my car though because I had to give someone a ride. I moved the chocolates from the car to the mud room and I put them on top of the dog crate. They were only there for just a couple more days (she wouldn't have cared, she likes dogs).

At some point, I must have thought it wasn't right to leave them on the dog crate though because I know I moved them. In the following weeks, I saw them on the window bench in the dining room, on the dining room table, on the kitchen counter, on the kitchen island, on the sideboard in the dining room (just kidding, we don't have a sideboard), and on the coffee table in the living room.

Finally, they wound up on the kitchen island again.

The Y Chromosome and I came in from having dinner at La Caretta last night and I asked him if we really should test the candy before I mailed it.

Keep in mind, I patronized THREE (3) girl scouts this year. I always figure that considering I don't have kids of my own, I should be the winner of bulk purchases for each girl, so we have plenty of sweet chocolate treats in our house: Somoas, Thin Mints (they'll be sued for that one some day), Tagalongs, you name it. (In my defense, at least some of those boxes make their way to the Food Pantry and I figure I should get double, if not triple points for that.)

It took about a nanosecond. He paused before he replied, the gold elastic band went flying off and an entire box of chocolates lay open before us.

I am so glad I did not send these to my aunt.

Hello? Pink cream? Check this out. It reminded me of when we
were little, we'd try to put them back together and hope one of our brothers popped the whole thing in his mouth.

You can't swallow the stuff, it just coats the inside of your mouth and tastes like a recipe of 1 tablespoon paste; 6 of saccharine.

And there was gel too.

It's so shiny it was hard to photograph.

Who eats this stuff?

And am I an idiot? What did I think "soft centers" meant? I am sure my aunt would have thought, "How old does she think I am?" because this stuff is clearly designed for people without teeth.

Of course, if you do like this kind of thing, having no teeth is most likely not a reliable indicator of age, but in fact, an indicator that you might have eaten some of it.

(This one to the left, it's green.)

We broke each one open out of curiosity and then we ate some Somoas.

FYI: I PREFER FILET

My sister says that it's very appropriate to "prune the tree of life." By that she means if you don't want to be friends with someone anymore, it's okay to break up with them.

After I spent almost a year telling her about a particular person/couple (I don't know why I bother being ambiguous, they're not reading this, that's for sure) we decided it wasn't such a great friendship, and I shouldn't feel bad about calling it quits.

When I called my sister and happened to tell her that this person/couple had shunned our, reluctant, invitation to a particular event (at the last minute) her reaction was, "Oh, YAY!"

No. No, not "Oh, YAY!"

I understand that the net outcome was EXACTLY what I was looking for, however, I was dumping them. Not the other way around.

This is the way it works: when I decide not to be friends with someone, I usually end it with a grand gesture. I insist on picking up the tab at a good and expensive restaurant, give them an embarrassingly generous gift, execute that final last favor-that-should-never-have-been-asked-of-me, or present them with something like a really nice bottle of what they don't know is Farewell Wine.

Keep in mind, this happens rarely, but when it does, I have good reasons.

In this case, even small encounters with this person/couple required copious amounts of alcohol; there was way too much "imbibing" and the next day was always just totally wasted. I try to avoid those kind of people because frankly, we don't need the help (it's not lost on me that they probably felt the same way).

Second, I'm not really crazy about people who so monopolize the conversation that they kick into high-speed, pressured speech so that no one interrupts them for the entire evening (hence, another reason for the way-too-much-imbibing -- if you can't talk, you got nothing else to do but drink, right?).

I know what you're thinking, you're thinking that people would naturally do this around me because I want to monopolize the conversation. Well, that might be true, however, it was also accompanied by maniacal laughter, weird outbursts of anger and other bizarre behavior that made me feel sort of uncomfortable and stressed out (and particularly since I'm so self-centered, I started to believe that I was the inspiration for it).

So I had good reasons and originally, I thought good luck.

There had been a general distancing of the relationship which had not concerned me. There had been a few incidents that would be easily excused between friends but in this case could be easily construed as subtle signs. I was thinking there wouldn't be a need for grand gestures - that the relationship would die a quiet, natural death...a mutual parting of the ways: dismissed as simply, "not a good match."

However, as luck would have it, a last minute favor was needed and I was greedy. I was quick to seize the opportunity. I saw it as a nice opportunity to tie up the relationship in a neat little package. Big bow on top.

What a mistake.

I should have just said, "sorry, can't" but I didn't, and things took a turn for the worse. They wanted to thank me and they insisted on having us over for dinner to do it. They served the most enormous steaks I have ever seen, never mind eaten, and the combination of being hungry, greedy, not being able to get a word in edgewise, and not wanting to be there, wasn't good...I probably demolished about a pound of it. Maybe more. I was sick for two days.

So when my sister said, "Oh, YAY!" it was like a firecracker went off: the last minute cancellation, subtle signs, little incidents, and the huge steaks.

They had served us our last supper...I had been greedy, they got the grand gesture, and we had been dumped.

Am I Missing Something Big Here?

Being one of the most important people I know, I receive sometimes close to hundreds of e-mails in a day. The weird thing is that most of them have to do with pharmaceutical drugs that aren't necessarily appropriate for women.


(This is a picture from our trip out west -- I'm cleaning up my e-mails along with some old photos on my laptop.)


The subject line of these e-mails usually reads something like, "Hi, Keep Her Satisfied All Night Long."

Not really, mostly, something like this:

"Hi, keeepe her satesfyd night all along."

It's obvious these people certainly weren't up studying the English language all night long, that's for sure.

I don't know why I keep getting these things. Is my name on a big long list somewhere?

Who is "Her" and who are these people sending these e-mails saying "Hi" like they know me?

(Here is a picture I found of the Space Needle when we went to Seattle a couple of years ago.)

The one that popped up today was from GOLDINAANTHONY and was entitled "Havee a lifee-loong holdiay with..."

I would ask who responds to these e-mails but I'm not sure I really want to know the answers to any of these hard questions.

Obviously, however, someone must be responding to them because when I open my e-mail, I am never let down. There they all are, coming on strong.

Satisfying all night; spamming all day.

In general, I believe that resorting to talking about matters of such delicate nature for the sake of comedic value is lame. So, don't get me wrong. I am totally, completely, serious.

People need all kinds of medicine to help them sleep, control their cholesterol, perk them up, whatever.

I just wonder why people wood take advice from an e-mail and then wood purchase a remedy over the internet. What happened to using the telephone?

Someone has to be buying into this stuff because they make it into such a big deal.

I'm so tired of it though. I feel like if I added up all the time it takes me to delete these things, it would be like, four hours. And I think after four hours, it's concerning and could be an indication of a greater problem.

(This is a recent photo of the Washington Monument. I think photos like this are kind of dumb considering you can just get a
post card but someone insisted on taking it.)

Somehow, I just know that talking about this issue is going to make it worse, though. I think men would say that.

It's enough to drive a person to drink.
(That was funny...like I need something to DRIVE me to drink.)

The Y Chromosome Who Lives In My House says that he doesn't know anything about this stuff and anyway, he's signed a confidentiality clause. What?

Am I missing something big here?

There are plenty of other products on the market I might be interested in.

For example, where would I find one of these? It's a really cool light fixture with plastic goldfish bouncing around inside (or swimming upstream, I guess) and it changes colors. I never get any e-mails about these.

Now click here.

I Am Yawning Right Now

I made up rules for my blog when I started.

1. No names.
2. No talking about people.
3. Nothing personal.
4. Never about work.

Something's gotta give.

I have included a poll for you because I care about what you think.


(Just kidding.)

Right now, I am sitting at home trying to prove my friend SMC WRONG WRONG WRONG. Of course, I'm cheating by putting it on my blog because I know that she will read it because it will pop up on her blog dashboard, but she is still wrong!

Here's why:

The other day I went into this gallery to get something reframed. (I always love going there and I always love hanging around a little. Fun Company + Great Advice = I'm A Greedy Girl.)

However, lately, because of some recent experiences (combined with some recent conversations, including one with HerSelf) I have been trying to be more "determined." (Does it get any more ironic than trying to be more determined?) And, I've been trying to be lower maintenance as a customer, client, whatever. I say lower because let's face it, when you're like me, shooting for low maintence is just a lofty goal at which to miserably fail ...in a meteoric way. Frankly, I'd also be concerned about the rebound effect.

(I should get credit all the way around for this current attempt.)

Here's how it usually works: I go in to get something framed (or reframed) and SMC shows me about 5,783 options which are all very similar...because she is a master. I then proceed to slowly narrow them down by removing about two or three at a time and then, I wind up choosing one of the first two she suggested.

(Someone who reads this MIGHT remember my mother.)

Although SMC is in the business of selling artwork valued at very substantial thousands of dollars she patiently stands there showing me choice after choice: a silver frame with an off-white mat, a white-washed silver frame with a white-ish mat, a brushed silver frame with a beige-tinted white mat, a goldish-silver grey frame with...you get the picture, no pun intended.

I choose everything she pretty much has suggested (I think), I leave, and then I call her within 24 hours to question my decision and she spends even more time reassuring me. Can it get more complicated?

It can.

Let's remember that I brought in the last piece thinking I was going to become more of a DECIDER, and with my new commitment to being lower maintenance. It meant I had to pay closer attention to what was being said AND I had to reject the possibility of more choices.

Combined with the fact that SMC knows me pretty well now, this has completely set me up.

She knows I'm not good at picturing things, she knows I have a hard time making up my mind, and she knows I like to think about things and then I change my mind.

(She was the one who told me this and because I had to pay closer attention to everything that was said, I heard it very clearly. I have considered whether my feelings are hurt but I've decided -- being the DECIDER that I am -- it doesn't matter. On the other hand, I have a bathroom vanity which requires a stepstool...so maybe it does matter. Well, maybe it doesn't matter so long as someone like her is around.)

But she's still wrong.

Although I can't remember the color of the mat of the piece I brought in and I can't remember if I considered whether that will look good with the frame I wanted which was supposed to match the other piece, and I can't figure out if that will look good in that color frame, I am NOT reconsidering this.

I was lost on back roads in Goffstown, NH in a foot of unplowed snow and I was thinking about that frame but I did NOT call SMC. I think that is profound self-restraint and I await your enthusiastic applause. Except for this sneaky little blog thing, I am not calling her.

I remain calm.