Don't Stop the Carnival

This past weekend, my daughter anxiously awaited the arrival of the Easter bunny.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" my daughter asked me again, for the 20th time that week.

"Female, definitely," I maintained.  After all, I thought to myself, how else could she pull off the organization needed to visit so many homes in such a short amount of time, deliver artfully crafted Easter baskets, and hide colorful eggs, all the while looking so fluffy and pretty?

Flash forward to late Saturday night.  I was preparing to go to bed, and hubby was preparing to head out for a quick stop at his brother's birthday party.

"I still have to get Olivia's Easter basket put together, and hide it for tomorrow morning," I grumbled as I cleaned up the kitchen.

"Don't worry, I'll do it," my husband reassured me.  I shot him a quizzical look.  "I'm not a moron, I can handle it," he replied, grinning as he walked out the back door.  I was too tired to argue, and, after all, it was only a child's Easter basket, so I put the basket, grass, and bag of goodies on the counter and went to bed. 

Those were his famous last words.

Sunday morning my daughter woke us up nice and early.

"Mommy, MOMMY!" she whispered, while poking my shoulder.  "I want to go look for my Easter basket.  I've already checked and she ate the carrots I left out for her.  Can you get up now?!"

The family slowly made our way downstairs, and after 5 minutes of looking, my daughter triumphantly pulled her Easter basket out from behind a cabinet in the dining room.  She took it into the family room, and began to examine its contents.

"Look!" she said excitedly, "The Easter bunny brought me 2 bags of grass!" (Yes, the unintended innunendo here is funny too.)  "How nice- 2 bags!  I can use it for crafts!"

"Bags of grass?" I questioned.  Sure enough, the plastic decorative grass that you are supposed to take out of the bag and put in the bottom of the basket was still bagged and sitting in the basket.

"Oh!  The bunny must shop at Woodman's!" my daughter innocently continued.  "Here's a bag of candy from the store!  There's a bag of gum eggs, some Skittles, and a chocolate bunny!"

At this point I realize what has happened.  I look over at my hubby who refuses to look my way.  I am torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to crack my hubby upside the head.

"You didn't put the basket together!" I muttered under my breath.

"Sorry, I was tired and thought you did it," was my hubby's reply.  "At least I hid it.  She doesn't care."

And he was right- she didn't care, especially once she saw the passes to a local water park.  I really wish I had had the camcorder rolling for this one.  I could have held it over my husband's head for the remainder of his life.  He would have never lived it down.  But at least I've blogged about it here, just for the record.  Feel free to comment and torment him as necessary. :-)

Several weeks ago, I returned to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, for a little R&R.  You may remember that I visited Cabo last June, and, after a little climatological shock (hello- it's in a desert?) I eased right in- and found it to be a very enjoyable place to visit.

So I was happy to return, and the goal of my trip, other than a tan, rest, and margaritas, was to go whale watching.  This was something I had missed last summer, as the whale mating and migration season is primarily in the months of January - March.  This time around, my timing was right on, and, true to form, the fish geek (OK, I know they're mammals) in me was psyched.  I couldn't wait to see my first humpback whale, up close and personal.  When will I learn to be careful what I wish for?

Upon arriving in Cabo, my friend and I immediately set up our whale watching expedition.  We decided to go with a tour whose only purpose was whale watching- we were hard core.  No party booze cruise, or water taxi tours, we wanted whales!!  So the small, 12-15 passenger Zodiac boats with two 450 hp engines sounded great- they were small, fast, and highly maneuverable- it seemed like the perfect setup for a morning of whale watching.

And it was!!  Within 20 minutes of leaving the dock, I was in the midst of three 50 foot humpback whales who were, shall I say, gettin' their groove on.  It was great- the guides had the whole process down to a science.  The whales need to surface every 2 - 3 minutes, so all we needed to do was position the boat 20 feet or so from where we thought they'd be surfacing, and have our cameras ready.  We clicked away, oohing and aahing like kids on the 4th of July every time a dorsal fin or tail broke the water's surface.  For lack of a more descriptive term, it was pretty darn cool, and I was grinning from ear to ear.

As I mentioned earlier, this was mating season for humpback whales, and, apparently, our sightseeing was ruining a romantic moment- and the whale was about to let us know.

As 2 whales surfaced 15 feet for so off the starboard side of the boat, we momentarily lost track of the 3rd whale.  We soon found him, however, as he decided to surface UNDER OUR BOAT!!  Our small boat pitched and tipped like a bath tub toy, its starboard side (my side) rising perpendicular to the water as the whale rose up.  I held on to the support in front of me, amazed and frightened, while others around me yelled and swore in a variety of languages.  

"Whales don't eat people, whales don't eat people," was my mantra as the whole situation unfolded in what seemed like slow motion.  The whale then started to descend, and our boat righted itself on the water- but he (the whale) wasn't through with us yet.  The giant whale rolled, and slapped the inflatable deck of the boat with his enormous fin, literally 6 inches away from me!  And then, thankfully, he was gone.

He message was loud and clear.  We were ruining his tryst with the ladies, and we needed to leave them alone.  As the adrenaline rush from the ordeal passed, all of us on the boat began to giggle and blabber excitedly.  Even the guides were hyped up.  This was not a normal experience.  We all felt a sort of kinship that a near death (OK, I'm exaggerating) experience brings.  It ended up being a great day, and we left with a terrific story to share.  We definitely got our money's worth that day, and I swear as we motored away from the whales and their rendezvous, I could hear the strains of Barry White singing, "Let's get it on..."   

My husband, daughter, mother-in-law and myself are going to Disney World this July.  Yep, you heard me right, Florida in July, with hot pavement, sweaty kids, and exhausted parents.  Can you imagine being the guy (or gal) in the Mickey suit?  Anyways, somehow the topic of going to Disney came up last Fall and there is no backing down now- Grandma is excited, the kiddo is already packing, and the airline tickets have already been bought!  Whether I like it or not I’m going to spend some quality time with the Mouse.  Did I mention we’re going to be there over the 4^th of July?

 Planning a trip to Disney feels like a full time job- from deciding where to stay (Disney or non-Disney property), to which attractions to visit and for how long (because there are dozens of permutations of the ticket plans alone), whether or not you need to rent a car (kind of dependent on where you stay), to where to eat (to dine at Disney or not), down to the nitty gritty of how to manage your time while at the parks themselves.  So I did what any self-respecting Type-A mom would do, I bought a book.  A big, thick book, which will tell me where to eat, how to bypass long lines, which hotel has the cleanest pool, the best places to view the parades, etc.

But honestly, I don’t want to be that scheduled.  I have a 5 year old- and I have learned in 5 years that schedules are only rough estimates of what you are going to do and when.  A temper tantrum, illness, injury, or impromptu nap can all wreck havoc on an organized person’s plans.  You just have to go with the flow, or risk insanity.

I am completely overwhelmed with all the options, and now realize why all-inclusive traveling is so appealing to me.  Do parents really have fun like in the commercials?  I want to enjoy this trip- I haven’t been to Disney in over 20 years and am really looking forward to sharing this experience with my family.  Obviously I need to have a basic plan outlined but how much is too much or not enough? 

 As a child, I can vividly recall sitting on the reading carpet in my 3rd grade classroom, while my teacher read Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree and Where the Sidewalk Ends aloud to the class.  I loved the poetry in Where the Sidewalk Ends, with it's rhythmic patterns, and it's silly words and whimsical drawings.  The story of The Giving Tree always gave me a warm fuzzy feeling, and I used to pretend that the giant weeping willow in my parent's backyard was my Giving Tree.

Growing up, I always fondly remembered these books, and anticipated the day that I would introduce them to my daughter, and hoped that she would embrace them with the same enthusiasm that I did.   So when my daughter brought home her Scholastic Book Club order form from school last month, I was thrilled to see that a collection of his books was available- and I placed an order right away.  But, if there is one lesson I have learned from parenting, it is that, despite your best intention, things have a tendency to not work out the way you planned- so I wasn't expecting the Norman Rockwell moment I had envisioned for the past 5 years to actually occur.

Several weeks later, the big day came, and the books arrived.  That night, I asked my already sleepy child if she wanted to read the new books for her bedtime story.  She reluctantly agreed, and I tucked her into bed, curled up next to her, and began to read The Giving Tree.  I was no more than 5 pages into the book when I began to feel my lower lip tremble as I told the story of how the tree loved a little boy so much, that he played in her branches and slept in her shade, and ate her apples- and the tree was happy.  I held back a teary-eyed sob when my daughter snuggled even closer to me as I read of how the boy went away, and the tree was sad, but when he came back as a grown man the tree shook with joy to see him, and gladly gave him her branches to build his house.  I finally broke down, my voice quivering and tears streaming down my face, when, at the end of the book, the boy, now an old man, returns to the tree, after cutting down the trunk to make a boat, sits to rest on the remaining stump, and the boy and the tree were happy.  My daughter was asleep, and I was a complete Mommy mess.

The book still had me after all these years, although now as a parent, my view of the story and the way it applied to my life had changed.  I was no longer the young child who found the generosity of the tree heartwarming- I was a parent, whose life paralled the tree's.  As the tree gladly gave more and more of itself to the boy, it was happy, much like a parent will give and sacrifice so that their child has a good life and is happy.  I kissed my daughter goodnight and crept out of her room, with a huge smile on my teary face.  The introduction of my daughter to Shel Silverstein couldn't have gone any better.  

The next night we began reading Where the Sidewalk Ends, where the pressing question of the evening from my daughter was "Mom, where does the sidewalk really end?  I mean, does it really end?" Could there be a more perfect question from a 5 year old?  Not to this Mommy...      

High school.  

What memories do you have of those infamous 4 years?  

For me, high school was so-so.   I attended a notoriously cliquey suburban WI high school, and it lived up to all of it's expectations.  I wasn't in the "cool" group, wasn't in the "dorky" or "jock" group, I guess I was a part of the masses who are somewhere in the middle.  I didn't love it, didn't necessarily hate it, but definitely have no desire to relive any of the moments over again.  In fact, I have cautiously avoided all of my reunions because honestly, there's noone there that I really want to see.  I'm comfortable with where I am in my life now, and those I choose to share it with.

Hence my most recent dilemma.  Last week my husband decided to create a Facebook account.  Now, for those of you 25 and younger who are reading this I'm sure this is a completely normal occurrence in your life.  However, in my life, this is rather unusual.  I always assumed that Facebook and myspace were for teenage kids, famous people, those seeking 15 minutes of fame, porn stars, and old men trolling for 14 year old girls to meet at the mall.  I couldn't think of a reason why a 30 something, hardworking, busy adult would need a page on one of these sites.   Apparently I was completely wrong.

So I received an invitation to be a "friend" of my husband's on his Facebook page, but in order to view it (and, ensure that any photos he posted of me were flattering), I needed to join.  Fine, I thought, what's the big deal?  A few minutes and several painless questions later I had my own Facebook account.  I started to feel young and hip- "Yeah, that's right, I'm still on top of technology.  I'm cool," I thought to myself.  And the next thing I know, it's offering to show me all sorts of people from my high school who also have facebook accounts. "Really?"  Curiousity got the best of me, and I soon started browsing through the list, looking at who was "Facebook friends" with who.  Here's the thing- it's the same situation as high school, just now in cyberspace!  Why would I want to do this?  Am I socially inept because I don't find Facebook thrilling?  It actually makes me kind of uncomfortable.  I don't like the idea of petitioning someone to be my "friend", only to have to sit back and wait for them to accept me.  Nor do I really like having to make that decision about others.  It's like the first day of school all over again.

I really just want to delete the account and call it quits.  I'm too busy to try and be popular in cyberspace- heck, I'm too busy to try and be popular in real life.  I'm pretty happy being me.  But there is a side of me that thinks I should keep the account and conduct an informal experiment, to see if my social expectations are confirmed or proved wrong.  Will it always break down along clicque boundaries?  Will someone unexpected offer me a virtual olive branch as a sign of cyber unity?  What do you think?

I am not a knick-knack type of person. 

In fact, throughout the year I have no displays carefully arranged in curio cabinets, no treasured Hummels, china, crystal... nothing.  Yet last year I got the knick-knack bug at Christmas.  Suddenly, I felt a strong urge to have a Christmas Village prominently displayed in my home.  Why?  I don' t know, but several hundred dollars and a few Christmas gifts from the in-laws later my little town was born.  Tiny homes were trimmed with mini Christmas lights, I had a ski hill (complete with moving skiiers), a chalet, a winery (of course), a bed and breakfast, and other little odds and ends.  It was like a mini Napa Valley- and I was pretty pleased.

So this year I decided to expand my town into a booming metropolis and added several more homes and businesses- my tax base was growing, and the people were happy.  Oh yes, my city even has lots of little people scattered about the fluffy snow covered streets.  This required me to re-locate my village to an 8ft card table in the dining room, which again, I thought was pretty cool that I had a whole table dedicated to my Christmas biosphere.  I can't believe my husband puts up with this!

Yesterday morning I woke up, got ready for work, got the kiddo up, and headed downstairs.  As I walked through the dining room I glanced over at my town, and stopped dead in my tracks.  There was an intruder in my village!!  Staring back at me with a look that says trouble, is my large, clumsy, very sweet, but not-so-smart cat Harry.  And he is standing in the middle of the town square. 

"Harry!"  I hiss- and he knows he is busted. 

In his haste to get off the table before I *ahem* "take" him off, he starts to stumble through the town, like Godzilla after a night of drinking.  The people in my down are knocked over like dominoes, and I realize there's a real danger that he's going to take some of my precious porcelain with him as he jumps off the table.  I grab him in the nick of time and get him off the table with minimal casualties.  But the poor town is forever traumatized, as this will go down in the history books as the day the town was attacked by a big, black furry beast, and something tells me this won't be the last invasion, either.   

I am thankful for the unnamed woman at the gym on Friday, who is in my Zumba class.  We've never spoken, but as I was leaving the gym with my 5 year old daughter the lady approached me with a look of astonishment on her face.  She proceeded to tell me that there was no possible way I could have a child as old as my daughter, because I looked so young!  After reassuring her that I was in my 30's and that my daughter was only 5 (though she's tall and could pass for 6-7), I left the gym with the biggest smile on my face.  Too young!!!  Thanks lady, for making my day!

1)  Did you hear about the rabid fox that attacked the jogger in Arizona?  If not, read the story here.  I don’t know what aspect of this story is most astounding- that the fox attacked the woman or that she had the ability to remain calm, run back to her car a mile away, and put the animal in the trunk so it could be tested for rabies.  This is why we need to be cautious of the fox that live here in Bay View.  Are they rabid?  Most likely no.  Are they friendly?  I don’t really think so.  Do they get uncomfortably close to humans?  Yes.  The best thing we can do to live harmoniously is not to feed them, and enjoy them from afar.

2)  There’s a weird duplicity in home décor in Bay View these days.  On my street, for example, up until earlier this week we had homes with Halloween pumpkins, Thanksgiving turkeys, and Christmas decorations.  It’s a confusing time of year.  It doesn’t help that the stores were selling Christmas and Halloween decorations side by side over a month ago.  It seems that Christmas is slowing becoming a 3-month ordeal, over taking Halloween and Thanksgiving.  Can’t we just slow down and enjoy each holiday in a timely fashion?

3)  I like to read bumper stickers.  Given the nature of my job and that I drive around all day, I see a lot of them.  I like to think of them as moving commercials.  Some are clever, some are stupid, others are distasteful, and, given the recent election, many are political.  People in Bay View have a lot to say, and hence they tend have a lot of bumper stickers.  I’ve noticed that those supporting the democratic ticket seem have the most political bumper stickers- either promoting Obama or bashing Bush.  And I can’t help but wonder, once George Bush is gone, will the bumper stickers go away?  What will we see then? “Coexist” or “Think Globally, Act Locally” or  “Free Tibet?”  Will conservatives feel the urge to cover their rear bumpers with anti-Obama stickers?  I think I will conduct an informal sociological experiment in the coming months to get an answer.  I’ll keep you posted…

4)  A while ago I wrote about returning to school for my graduate degree.  I was panicking about being an older student who was technologically inept and asked too many questions.  Was I that student?  I think I may have been a teeny, tiny bit.  After the first night of class, I quickly traded my mechanical pencil and notebook for a laptop, figured out how to use it, and got with the program.  Much to the chagrin of the class, I probably did ask too many questions, but, honestly, when you are spending as much as I am in tuition I wanted to get every penny’s worth- and I managed to get an A in the class!

It’s around this time of year that I start thinking about Christmas.  Not because I LOVE Christmas, or not because radio stations are already playing Christmas music (gag!), but because the holiday catalogues start piling up, and I begin to budget for holiday spending. 

Most notably, I begin to think of gifts for my five year old daughter.  Here’s where the problem begins- my daughter wants for nothing.  It’s actually kind of embarassing, but seriously, there’s not much that she wants that she doesn’t have.  Between tons of grandparents, and a doting push-over Daddy, the girl’s loaded.  She has a bedroom full of toys, a playroom full of toys, a basement full of toys, and a toy box in the family room.  She doesn’t even remember all the toys she has! 

I have been trying to encourage her to set aside toys she has outgrown, to give them to someone who could use them, but it doesn’t work.  She’s convinced she still needs a 0-6 month light up rattle at the bottom of the toy box.  **SIGH**  I’ve tried telling her that Santa can’t bring NEW toys to a kid until she is charitable and gives some of her OLD toys away, to make room for new one.  Nope- no luck there either.  I’ve attempted to discretely bag up some items to throw or give away, but she always catches me when I’m taking the bag outside, and then I’m really busted.

So a few days ago I gave her the big toy catalogue from Toys R Us, and a marker, and I told her to circle all the items she wanted Santa to bring.  I then surreptitiously watched as she began to rapidly circle everything, and I mean everything, that was pink in the entire catalogue.  She probably circled over 30 things.  Then I told her we needed to look at the items she selected.  Here’s the kicker- she didn’t even know what some of the items were! 

Me:  What’s this? (pointing to a pink polka-dot handheld camcorder)

Her:  Well… ummm… it’s a…. well… it’s a looky-through thingy.

Me:  What do you do with it?

Her:  I don’t know, I just want it!

Herein lies the problem.  My daughter is spoiled.  Too much.  And it needs to change.  I think there’s a value in earnestly writing Santa a letter, asking for a special toy.  And counting the days, waiting and hoping for that special toy to appear under the tree on Christmas morning.  The magic is gone from my household.  It bums me out.  I don’t know what to do about it.  I’m all alone on this one.

But yet, I go back to the catalogues, because, whether I like it or not, the grandparents will be calling me any day now, asking for a list of what they can get her.  And they don’t take no for an answer.  So I carefully give each their allotted amount of items, making sure that there’s no overlap or repeats.  And the toys will get opened, and after a few days, discarded in the toy box like all the others.  There will be no magic, short-lived excitement, and no real Kodak moments.  Bah humbug!

Is it just at Woodman's?  Or is grocery store idiocy rampant?  Today I finally had enough!  Forget road rage, I have GROCERY SHOPPING RAGE!!!!! 

When you are shopping in a crowded grocery store, there are several rules one should follow:

#1) Starting in the parking lot- when you are walking to and from the store, please do not walk in the middle of the road, oblivious to all around you.  Go over to the side or some day I might just hit you, and whose fault would it really be?

#2) Quickly and efficiently get a cart as you enter the store, and do NOT stop to get your coupons out and block the entire aisle.  Pull over to the side- I do not want to wait while you get yourself organized.

#3)  Be aware of the width of aisles and do not block them by leaving your cart in the middle while you select your food.  You are not the only one in the store, please remember that and be considerate. And yes, I'm the person who moved your cart over so that others (including myself) could pass through.

#4) If you need extra time selecting an item, please do not stand directly in front of it so that noone else can politely reach in and get what they need.  Again, there are others here who don't want to spend 3 hours getting groceries.

#5) Walk with purpose through the store.  They are not a park, and there is no need to meander through them.

#6) Get off your damn cell phone and quit talking so loud.  And if you need to talk to someone who's shopping with you, there is no need to yell halfway down the aisle, asking if you need a can of peas.  Walk a few steps and then ask, is it really that hard? 

Phew! I feel a little better... 

Simply put- the weather is making me feel all discombobulated. 

Now, I don’t mind that it has been unseasonably warm lately.  I’ve been trying to soak it all in before winter drops its icy hammer and we all plunge into bitter cold temps.  I like having the windows open, and the heat off.  The fall colors are beautiful.  There are no bugs, except for those pesky ladybug impersonators.  The nuisance of election coverage 24/7 has passed.  Life is good.

But it was odd that as hubby and I were dressed in our Halloween costumes last Friday, driving to the night’s festivities, with relatively warm weather, there was Christmas music playing on the radio station (which, after a number of explicatives, I immediately turned off).  Today, as I was driving along the lakefront, I noticed that the county had put up hay bales around the trees and poles at the base of the big hill by St. Mary’s.  Guess what that’s for?  To prevent sledding accidents- hard to imagine on a 70 degree day, but after all, it is November already.  Christmas decorations are going up around town in full force, which is barely tolerable in November, but even stranger when the weather is so warm.  Our fashion-challenged state is even further confused- shorts and a turtleneck?  Winter coats on a 70 degree day?

I am one of those people who has said on occasion that I would like to move south to escape our harsh winters.  And if you ask me about this again, in say, February, I will likely have a different answer.  But today, I just couldn’t imagine having a warm-weather Thanksgiving or Christmas.  Having lived my entire life in the Midwest, it just wouldn’t seem legitimate- maybe for a holiday vacation once in a while, but not permanently.  Decorating a palm tree?  Having Thanksgiving poolside?  It’s just too weird.  I’m not ready for that just yet.

I need to buy some carbon credits to offset my husband's energy use during the football games this Sunday. 

Not only did he have 3 TV's on in the house, he had 2 radios playing outside, and 2 computers running, one on each floor of our home.

Every time I turned one off, it magically turned itself on the moment I left the room.

I suspect it had something to do with his fantasy football team, and I've learned over the past 10 years that there's not much I can do about that.

I did turn the heat off- does that count for much?  And I recycled a whole bunch of stuff too...

Please keep up the good work, and give us a nice winter and an early spring.

Sincerely,

Erica 

Today I planned to take advantage of a rare occasion- being all alone for an entire 24 hours. 

No kiddo, no hubby- just me, the cats and the dog, and the dreaded task of writing my final paper for my grad class.  I was prepared to duke it out to the finish- I was going to work all day, I would take no prisoners, calculating financial ratios, inserting charts and graphs, footnotes, all the fancy stuff- and I would get this monkey off my back!  The pleasure of knowing that I was done (or at least close to done), was going to be worth missing such a beautiful fall day.

So I sat down at my computer, flexed my fingers, and prepared to be struck with creative genius.  But instead, I was struck by something else- a band?

Yes, that's right folks, a garage band, with electric guitars and microphones playing it's heart out across the alley- with the garage door open, in the little natural amphitheater formed by the slope of my block and the next, and it's loud.  I mean, really LOUD.  Like, so loud that I can hear it clear as day with all my windows and doors closed, with the dishwasher and the clothes dryer running, LOUD.  My friend happened to call me just then, but I had a hard time hearing her on the phone because it was so loud.

And the best part?  This band is comprised of men- grown men.  With children.  Definitely not what I expected from my mild mannered neighbors.

Did I unknowingly buy tickets to this show?  I don't think so...  But I soon found that I could not concentrate on my paper one bit with all that noise.

Now I have to say that my family is friendly with these families, and our children will play together on occasion.  I like them, they've been hospitable and welcoming since we moved in 1.5 years ago.  And the music wasn't bad at all- kind of a Violent Femmes inspired vibe with some children's songs and a few Christmas carols thrown in.  These guys definitely have musical talent- but it was just so... loud.  Now, I know I should be thankful that they were courteous enough to play during the day, they don't do it all the time, and I guess it was better than listening to punk heavy metal for several hours.  I'm all for letting loose and rocking out, but, could it be turned down, just a tad, please?!

After a while I gave up trying to compose my paper and headed off to run a few errands.  I couldn't help but notice that as I was driving away, I observed several people standing on their porches trying to determine the source of the impromptu concert.  Even the mail person seemed concerned.  And when I returned, I saw a police car driving down a side street, and the music had stopped.  Coincidence?  Or had someone else had enough of the music?  Either way, I was glad that peace and quiet had returned to my sleepy little block, and I managed to make some headway on my paper, although not as much as I had originally intended.  Later tonight hubby arrives home and tomorrow the kiddo returns so I guess that's about all the work I will accomplish for the day- so I might as well go out and enjoy the beautiful weather and take the dog for a walk.  All's well that ends well, I guess.

Currently at my job I am inspecting filling stations, which means that I am conducting a fire inspection and an environmental inspection of the premises.  I can honestly say that I never planned, ever, in my life to be doing this- who says when they grow up that they want to spend time in rough neighborhoods looking at gas stations?

This is a relatively dangerous part of my job.  It also puts me in a bad mood every day.  Right now I am assigned to the north/northwest side of Milwaukee, which has a real gang/drug problem, as well as a high truancy rate.  And all of the unsavory characters that participate in these activities seem to hang out at gas stations.  I go early, mind my business, watch my back, and get out as soon as possible.  The earlier in the day that I can get into these neighborhoods, the better- the drunks, druggies and troublemakers tend to be late sleepers.  But anyways… back to what I wanted to talk about.

As a result, I spend a lot of time locked in the little glass enclosures with the cashier, explaining the corrections that they need to make in order to be in compliance with the regulations.  Our discussion is always permutated by the customers making their purchases.  Here’s where my first life lesson begins- if you want to know why you pay so much for health insurance, spend a half hour in a gas station in a low income neighborhood and observe what the people purchase.

I am absolutely amazed at the amount of crap people put into their bodies.  Here is a typical purchase:  3 bags of chips, 2 packs of muffins, cupcakes, etc, a couple of sodas, a black and mild (little cigar-type thing) or pack of cigarettes, and a flavored blunt wrap (to roll a tobacco “blunt”-yeah right).  They can get all of this for about $5.00, and it’s evident that this is their diet for the day.  It’s sickening.  I can’t help but wonder how many of these people have health insurance.  If they don’t, you can be sure you and I are subsidizing their bad habits. 

My second life lesson is just a general observation about people and their behavior.  The gas station workers commonly complain to me about the behavior of their patrons.  They are verbally abused by people daily, their property is vandalized weekly if not daily, kids overwhelm the stores and shoplift all the time, and all the owners can share stories of when they were robbed, beaten, and almost everyone knows someone who was killed while working at a station in the city. 

I feel sorry for these property owners on some level, yet I can’t help but wonder if they don’t bring it on themselves.  Is it worth the danger and trouble these station owners face just to make money pennies at a time selling candy and chips?  I can only assume that they knew the nature of the neighborhood before they opened their store- why choose that location?  And why do many of these stations sell products that encourage troublemakers to patronize their store?  Blunt wraps, chore boys, little glass tubes, and probably other drug paraphernalia that I’m not even aware of- why even sell it?  And in case you were wondering, almost every gas station on the north side sells pornographic movies and magazines- who would have imagined?  Is the money worth it?  The answer, obviously, is yes.  I can only assume that the owners are willing to deal with the trouble, and have chosen to sell the products that their customers want.  I wonder what would happen if they stopped selling the junk- all of it.  Would another business fill the void?  Probably.  Would the problems go away?  Probably not. 

All of this makes me so glad to return home to happy little Bay View at the end of the day.

Well, I’m back and ready to give this blogging thing another try- my computer has been behaving itself lately so hopefully this will make it all the way to publication.

Remember when I said that I felt I needed something different in my life?  Well, I think I have found a new career, if only it existed…

At my current job, I spend the majority of my day driving around all parts of the city, conducting environmental inspections and investigating complaints.  This takes me to all parts of the city- good and bad.  I’ve pretty much seen it all- fires, car accidents, bad driving, arrests, wandering dogs, weird weather phenomenon, and even wierder people.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen someone do something and said to myself, “What is it with people?”  Or, “Where is a cop when you need one?”

Hence my new career- I want to be the “Hey, Stupid!” police.  That’s right- give me a gold star and a book of tickets and set me loose on the city.  I will gladly cite the people I come across for doing a variety of stupid things.  For example:

Children not in a car seat-  who clearly should be.  This drives me nuts- I know these people know better.  BAM!  That person would get a “Hey Stupid” ticket so fast their head would spin.  Come back in a week and show me that you have a seat and are actually using it or I’ll find you and give you another ticket.

Teenagers slowly meandering across the street, purposely forcing traffic to stop, even with a green light- BAM!  And pull up your pants or I’ll give you another ticket just for looking stupid.

People who stand in the middle of the street, looking to see if the bus is coming- get out of the street, you idiot!  You’re already at the bus stop, and you won’t get the bus there any quicker by risking your life to wander out into the middle of the road.  BAM!  Now go sit down…

Obnoxious cell phone users- BAM!  Texting while driving- BAM!  Tailgating me so closely that I cannot see your headlights- BAM!

Litterbugs, cigarette smokers who toss their cigarettes on the ground, BAM, BAM!  (I’m having way too much fun here!)

Everywhere I go, BAM, BAM, BAM!  I'm gonna need at least 2 ticket books...

Who wants to join me? 

I am having computer difficulties which is making my internet connection sketchy- as I result I have had 2 posts disappear in the past week and a half when I tried to post (Yes, I know I should have saved, but that has been acting goofy too.)

I'll be back soon, i have lots to talk about as soon as the computer glitch is fixed... 

My quest for higher education has finally begun... again!

Monday I started grad school, I'm taking Accounting and Finance at MSOE.

I started school with some trepidation.  I distinctly remember when I was an undergrad that there was always a few older students in my classes, and well, they were always that student.  You know, the one who asks too many questions and takes up time, making the class run longer than necessary?  Who just seems out of touch, has clothes that are out of style and an archaic book bag?  Who's "old school," and doesn't have the right calculator or computer?  I realize now, looking back, how judgmental the 20 something crowd can be- myself included.  But worse yet, have I become that student?

I've spent the past week getting ready.  Getting re-accepted into the program, changing to my married name, registering for class, getting my student ID (where I was asked if I was a new instructor, I'm still deciding if I'm flattered or irritated about that one), and debating if I need to get a laptop computer for taking notes.  Here's where I'm old school- I am a mechanical pencil and notebook kind of gal.  The fact that I have a blog is probably the most advanced computer thing I've done in a while.  But MSOE is very technological- undergrads are required to have a really souped-up laptop that they do all their school work on.  I'm pretty sure they could hack into the Pentagon with these computers, if they wanted to.  Do I need the Mercedes-Benz of computers for grad school?  Do I even know what kind of computer that is?  Would I know how to use it?  Does everyone use computers to take notes now? (It has been 10 years since I graduated from college, I assume things have changed.)  I decided to wait and see what others in my class came with, and then make a decision.

So I went to the first night of class yesterday, and at least half of the students had big, fancy laptops that they immediately opened and used throughout the class.  I examined the little plugs on the table at each seat and it took me a while to realize that they were for the computers to connect to whatever, the internet?  How cool!  But then I began to panic- I'm going to be that student!  Looking around I realized that I should have gone on-line to print (or better yet, download) my professor's lecture notes, and my panic intensified.  Lastly, one student had already taken it upon himself to do the homework (which is due next week) ahead of time- yikes!!  This is MSOE folks, they don't play around here- there's a reason that the school and it's students are so successful!  I need to get on top of things- and quick! 

Thanks to the Packer game and the largely male demographic in my class, we were let out early, and I breathed a sigh of relief.  This gives me a week to get a game plan and get myself organized.  I'm still not sure what to do about the whole computer thing.  And I still have that homework to do... 

It's in situations like this that I'm so glad I have a blog! 

Today Hubby goes into the bathroom to do his business and emerges 2 seconds later, looking traumatized.  This is unusual behavior from a man who considers the bathroom his throne, and spends as much time on it as I will let him.

Hubby:  "Honey, you have to come see this!"

Me:  "Ummm.... What?"   I'm thinking what could he show me in the bathroom that I could possibly want to see.

Hubby:  "No, seriously, you need to come and look in the toilet."   

Hubby is still looking visibly shaken, so I walk into the bathroom, where I find a dead chipmunk in the toilet!!!!!  In my house, in the 2nd floor bathroom!!! 

Oh......My.......God.......  I am so disgusted.

While Hubby makes a big to-do about fishing the thing out of the toilet, my mind turns to the next obvious question.  How the heck did that thing get in my house?  We have a nice house, in good condition, with no openings to the outside that I am aware of.  I have cats, and a dog who loves to chase the chippers in the yard.  How did this thing get in, and get all the way to the second floor of my house, and manage to drown itself in my toilet without being observed?  And finally, are there more lurking around?  I am so wierded out by this- we have never even had a mouse in the house, and now a suicidal chipmunk?!

And the strangest part about all of this?  Just this morning Hubby and I were working in the garden and found a chipmunk hole, right under our tomatoes (which are finally starting to turn red, BTW).  Hubby was holding the garden hose at the time, and joked about sticking it into the hole to "drown the little bugger-" which he didn't do, and apparently didn't need to.

How prophetic! 

 But that's all the plants in my garden have- big, heavy, firm GREEN tomatoes!!

I've faithfully watered, weeded, and fertilized.  They get full, hot sun all day.  They have my neighbors' red tomatoes to look at for encouragement.  The plants are huge and laden with tomatoes.  I'm ready to make salsa, brushetta, and caprese salad.  I need RED tomatoes.

What else can I do?  Any suggestions?