WHAT IF....

...you were allowed only one New Year's Resolution for the year 2008. What would it be?

What do you do about jerks?

Rant #1:
I ran to the “U-Mail-It” (not its real name) store to mail back an unwanted (Danish modern???) candlestick and something else that I accidentally ordered. (Hint: be careful what you leave in your cart: Amazon will mail it to you and, doggone it, charge you for it, too!) There were two men of a certain age ahead of me in line, who appeared to be life partners; not in a flamboyant way, but in a sweet and comfortable way. After they left the clerk, who was a kid in his early 20's, I'd guess, made a nasty comment about them to his manager, then shuddered to show his revulsion. I was enraged, everything was rung up so I couldn't leave, but I did not know what to do other than be very cold towards him. (I know, then I looked like a jerk.)

What could I have done? I would like to complain to the “U-Mail-It” headquarters. I think that’s what I will do. Thanks. I feel better for venting.

Rant #2:

Went to the discount card store next to buy paper goods on sale. (See below about the red plates I lost and found. Don’t let me forget that the beautiful poinsettia plates are in the top shelf of my office closet!) The clerk made a comment about Christmas, and the man next to me in line, and a pathetic Mr. Know-It-All said, “Christmas is over.” Gee, really? Lately I have made an effort not to engage people of that ilk in conversation, and I should have done so this time but I was still brooding about the hate I saw at the “U-Mail-It” store so I said, “But the Christmas bills are coming.”

Mr. Know-It-All replied, “My daddy said to never buy anything you can’t pay for.”

Me, “Well, I’ll just let your daddy pay for all my stuff then.” Not the snappiest of come backs I know, but good grief, what a creep.

I am not a tattoo fan but I may need to have “Let It Go” tattooed on the back of my hand where it would be a constant reminder.

The Miracle of the Little Red Plates

Here it was Christmas Eve afternoon and I was baking hundreds of cookies for our neighbors. Each year every neighbor gives a little gift of either food or some little hand made decoration. My contribution is chocolate chip cookies. Don’t be impressed. Big box store makes the best break-apart-ready bake chocolate chip cookies, so all I had to do was put them in the oven. It still takes a good chunk of time to actually get them baked, wrap them up and then deliver them.

I thought I might as well start getting them wrapped up when I realized I had taken the red plastic plates to school for our class Christmas (– oops! Holiday) party. I wasn’t willing to put the cookies on generic white paper plates. It looked like I was going to have to make a last minute run to the store. Crapolia!

The truth was nobody, I mean NOBODY, would care if the darn cookies were on white paper plates except me. I just couldn’t do it. Here I was with hundreds of cookies so I knew I would have to try to get holiday plates at the 11th hour. Crapolia!

I had nothing to lose so I made one last look in the pantry and, low and behold, there was a stack of the red plates. I have no memory of them, but there they were, and I was so grateful for this little miracle. I was absolutely tickled. How terrifically nifty to find those plates!

So, this next year I will make an effort to share those sweet little miracles with you, blogger-friends, because all those little miracles are, I believe, probably more important than one big whopping miracle.

Merry Christmas to All!

No Sexism intended, but NO MEN ALLOWED!

Thank you to the genius across the pond who came up with this. Utter brilliance and scathing truth!

http://glumbert.com/media/mancold

Look what was found on the playground.

One of my students found a bullet on the playground. It was not a used shell. I have never even touched a bullet before. I carried it to the office afraid that it would explode. I handed it gingerly to my principal. She looked at it, sighed, and said, "I'll add it the others."

Blonde joke .... since I am one I can tell this.

Tale of the Blonde Horseback Rider


A young blonde woman decides to try horseback riding, even though she has had no lesson or prior experience. She bravely mounts the horse, unassisted, and the horse immediately springs into action. As it gallops along at a steady and rhythmic pace, the blonde begins to slip from the saddle.

In terror, she grabs for the horse's mane, but cannot get a firm grip. She tries to throw her arms around the horse's neck, but she slides down the side of the horse anyway. The horse gallops along, seeming imperious to its slipping rider.

Finally, losing her frail grip, the blond attempts to leap away from the horse and throw herself to safety. Unfortunately, her foot becomes entangled in the stirrup, and she is now at the mercy of the horse's pounding hooves as her head is struck against the ground over and over and over. As her head is battered against the ground and she is mere moments away from unconsciousness, to her great fortune, Frank, the Wal-Mart greeter, sees her and unplugs the horse.

I'm almost done!!

I am so pleased with myself because I have most of my Christmas shopping done. Hooray! Hooray! The secret? Shop online when there is free shipping.

I know many people like going to the mall; the decorations, music, hustle and bustle gets them in the spirit, but that just makes me feel claustrophobic and anxious.

I have already made a couple of trips to the post office, bringing a book with me to pass the time, and keeping me from beating people to a bloody pulp who, first, don't have their stuff wrapped for mailing or, second, decide it's time to visit with the post office employees. Also, having a book with me keeps people from turning to me in line to complain about the terrible service. It's the post office folks, and it is what it is.

My daughter is right; it's fun to get things done ahead of time.

Worst Christmas Gift

Do you remember the worst Christmas gift you ever got? What was it? Who gave it to you? How did you react? Did you keep it? Did you use it? Did the giver know that it was not appreciated? (Think the pink bunny suit from the movie, "The Christmas Story.")

In praise of paper towels

I just love paper towels. Always have, always will.

I know my love affair with paper towels started when I was fairly young; probably around seven. Back in the 1950’s paper towels came in one color: white. They were rough and scratchy. I don’t know why my mother ever bought them because we weren’t allowed to use them.

Paper towels were kind of like the good china; they were to be saved for special occasions. What that mystery occasion was I don’t know, but the paper towels were mounted by the kitchen sink on the ugly steel paper towel holder. Maybe it was a special good luck kitchen talisman.

Come to think of it, I believe we only had one roll of paper towels that moved with us from house to house like the good couch. I think that same roll was with my family by the time I got married. I wonder whatever happened to it.

Now I buy colorful paper towels by the dozens from Sam’s Club and I use them freely. I used a ton of them on Thanksgiving after all the warnings about not contaminating anything. I should use that many paper towels anytime I cook (which is infrequently) but I don’t think about food contamination except on big holidays.

Gary likes to use the hand towels. I used to think that hand towels were used after you washed your hands but he uses them to mop up around the sink which I think is gross, however it gives me an excuse to rip off the choose-a-size paper towel and wipe my hands.

So here is to the inventor of the paper towel, and no I don’t feel I am wasting the environment because I recycle all my paper. If they can chuck newspapers full of stupid paper-wasting circulars I can use my paper towels.

I love my paper towels.