While I was waiting at an intersection mid-day, I watched a grade school-aged girl ride her bike through the crosswalk with her dad.
As my eyes followed her across the street, I wondered if she was home-schooled, maybe - since it was the middle of the afternoon on a school day. In the lovely notion I've held, I imagine that all home-schooled children spend their days happily baking cookies beside their mothers, while learning fractions as they measure out chocolate morsels.
She must have felt my eyes watching her, because then she stuck her tongue out at me. And I was all, WTF?! OH. NO. YOU. DIDN'T!
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
Bedazzled
I got my first pair of glasses when I was 10-years old. I remember driving home and noticing that trees had individual leaves. The novelty was short lived. I was embarrassed and hated wearing them. I thought they made me look ugly and I was forever 'forgetting' them at home.
The truth was that I needed them terribly and couldn't see anything without them. If my teacher wrote something on the board to copy, I would look at the person writing across from me. Outright copying was out of the question - my vision was too bad for that, so I would carefully watch the way the top of their pencil moved as they formed letters. It would have been easier to just wear glasses for the amount of trouble I went through, but there was no convincing me otherwise.
Each of the students in my class had a job or responsibility. Through a cruel twist of fate, I ended up being the projector monitor. My job was to set up the projector for any movies or slides that the class watched. While I silently cried at the back of the room, I remember the kids yelling, "Focus! Focus!" and the teacher gently asking me if I truly could not see well enough to focus the projector. After that, the jig was up and I wore my glasses during class.
At 13-years old, I got contact lenses. This was a huge boost to my confidence and I was thrilled to get them. The compromise was that I had to wear gas-permeable, or hard, contact lenses since I was so young and my eyes were still developing. As I got older, my friends who wore soft contact lenses struggled with eye infections and torn lenses. I decided it wasn't worth the hassle of switching and stayed with hard contact lenses, which I still wear to this day. Recently, when I tried to make an appointment with my optometrist, I was disappointed to learn that he no longer saw gas permeable patients and I was referred to a different eye doctor.
After a having my eyes dialated and a thorough exam, I was sent into the office to pick out a new pair of frames; the only problem was that I couldn't see anything. I ended up selecting a pair that I thought only contained a small jewel on the side of the frames.
Once my vision returned to normal, I realized that my frames had many jewels within a decorative square with designer initials stamped on it. They are completely heinous and nothing I would have picked with undilated vision. They remind me of something after it's been decorated by a girl with one of those kits where you accent everything you own with sequins and jewels.
When the light catches the frames just right in the evening, Husband will softly whisper, "Bedazzled..."
The truth was that I needed them terribly and couldn't see anything without them. If my teacher wrote something on the board to copy, I would look at the person writing across from me. Outright copying was out of the question - my vision was too bad for that, so I would carefully watch the way the top of their pencil moved as they formed letters. It would have been easier to just wear glasses for the amount of trouble I went through, but there was no convincing me otherwise.
Each of the students in my class had a job or responsibility. Through a cruel twist of fate, I ended up being the projector monitor. My job was to set up the projector for any movies or slides that the class watched. While I silently cried at the back of the room, I remember the kids yelling, "Focus! Focus!" and the teacher gently asking me if I truly could not see well enough to focus the projector. After that, the jig was up and I wore my glasses during class.
At 13-years old, I got contact lenses. This was a huge boost to my confidence and I was thrilled to get them. The compromise was that I had to wear gas-permeable, or hard, contact lenses since I was so young and my eyes were still developing. As I got older, my friends who wore soft contact lenses struggled with eye infections and torn lenses. I decided it wasn't worth the hassle of switching and stayed with hard contact lenses, which I still wear to this day. Recently, when I tried to make an appointment with my optometrist, I was disappointed to learn that he no longer saw gas permeable patients and I was referred to a different eye doctor.
After a having my eyes dialated and a thorough exam, I was sent into the office to pick out a new pair of frames; the only problem was that I couldn't see anything. I ended up selecting a pair that I thought only contained a small jewel on the side of the frames.
Once my vision returned to normal, I realized that my frames had many jewels within a decorative square with designer initials stamped on it. They are completely heinous and nothing I would have picked with undilated vision. They remind me of something after it's been decorated by a girl with one of those kits where you accent everything you own with sequins and jewels.
When the light catches the frames just right in the evening, Husband will softly whisper, "Bedazzled..."
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Fish Bait
There is a fashion trend over the last year that has gained huge momentum. It involves having a dyed feather beaded into your hair. Although it's popular among women, Stephen Tyler was sporting a few on American Idol.
Last week, I saw a woman in her late 60's with not only feathers, but jewels and tinsel as well. A little hair accessorizing goes a long way. My thought was how ridiculous she looked - like a fishing lure gone wrong.
Last week, I saw a woman in her late 60's with not only feathers, but jewels and tinsel as well. A little hair accessorizing goes a long way. My thought was how ridiculous she looked - like a fishing lure gone wrong.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Just Like The Big Dogs Do
For my 40th birthday, I received a homemade card with a beautiful illustration of a chocolate lab from Girl. Our 14-year old chocolate lab died several years before, and everyone in my family was ready for another dog - except me. My fate was pretty much sealed.
Husband adores big dogs and males are typically bigger than females, so that's what he wanted. Girl and Boy wanted a puppy instead of an older dog. When we went to look at a litter, everyone was set on one of the two puppies in particular - the hyper, assertive pup that bowled Boy over and untied my shoelaces with his needle teeth. I'm no dog whisperer but an outgoing, confident pup quickly turns into a ninety-pound, leg-humping maniac.
I asserted that since this was my gift, I would have the final decision. I chose the other puppy that was friendly but a little quieter, with beautiful dark brown fur. I worried about having a male dog for several reasons - I was afraid of a male dog picking fights with other dogs and the constant marking on bushes and trees seemed like a total drag. I needn't have worried, though; Puppy had the sweetest nature without an aggressive bone in his body.
We have trained our dogs to pee and poop in one area of the backyard. It was a brilliant stroke on my part; it keeps the lawn nice and there are no bombs in the grass the step on. Once trained, however, Puppy would only potty there. We'd come back from a walk and he'd race to the side of the house to relieve himself.
We enrolled him into a puppy class for socialization and to learn basic obedience skills. From there, we progressed to an intermediate class that focused on heeling, sit and down stay and good manners. I asked the instructor why it was that Puppy had a 'shy' bladder and would only go at home. She said that dogs pee on things to mark their territory, and explained that Puppy was afraid to stake claim in someone else's area - just in case the dog was waiting around the corner to jump him. It took a year before Puppy would pee during walk. He'd cautiously squat and make a quick pee if he really, really had to go. As he got more confident, he would even poop.
Next month, Puppy will be three-years old. This whole time he's squatted to pee, like a girl dog - until today. Puppy lifted his back leg to pee just like the big dogs do - even though he was a little wobbily trying to balance on three legs.
Husband adores big dogs and males are typically bigger than females, so that's what he wanted. Girl and Boy wanted a puppy instead of an older dog. When we went to look at a litter, everyone was set on one of the two puppies in particular - the hyper, assertive pup that bowled Boy over and untied my shoelaces with his needle teeth. I'm no dog whisperer but an outgoing, confident pup quickly turns into a ninety-pound, leg-humping maniac.
I asserted that since this was my gift, I would have the final decision. I chose the other puppy that was friendly but a little quieter, with beautiful dark brown fur. I worried about having a male dog for several reasons - I was afraid of a male dog picking fights with other dogs and the constant marking on bushes and trees seemed like a total drag. I needn't have worried, though; Puppy had the sweetest nature without an aggressive bone in his body.
We have trained our dogs to pee and poop in one area of the backyard. It was a brilliant stroke on my part; it keeps the lawn nice and there are no bombs in the grass the step on. Once trained, however, Puppy would only potty there. We'd come back from a walk and he'd race to the side of the house to relieve himself.
We enrolled him into a puppy class for socialization and to learn basic obedience skills. From there, we progressed to an intermediate class that focused on heeling, sit and down stay and good manners. I asked the instructor why it was that Puppy had a 'shy' bladder and would only go at home. She said that dogs pee on things to mark their territory, and explained that Puppy was afraid to stake claim in someone else's area - just in case the dog was waiting around the corner to jump him. It took a year before Puppy would pee during walk. He'd cautiously squat and make a quick pee if he really, really had to go. As he got more confident, he would even poop.
Next month, Puppy will be three-years old. This whole time he's squatted to pee, like a girl dog - until today. Puppy lifted his back leg to pee just like the big dogs do - even though he was a little wobbily trying to balance on three legs.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
The Sleepover
Babydoll: Did you have fun at your sleepover? Did you remember to use good manners?
Boy: I totally had good manners! I ate with my mouth closed and everything.
Boy: I totally had good manners! I ate with my mouth closed and everything.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
You Want Me To What?!
My last post got me thinking about the times I've made the similar error of switching the first letter of two words. My nephew's Parry Hotter, for Harry Potter, is an example. It turns out there is an honest-to-God term for this: it's called a spoonerism, also known as a marrowski. I usually do this with the names of a couple or siblings. It causes an interesting reaction every time I've done it, and I always come off sounding like an idiot.
My most embarrassing incident was when I was leaving a voice mail at a spa, requesting a waxing service. I was mid-message when I committed a spoonerism, asking for an appointment to 'brax my wows'. Startled by my mistake, I started punching the # and * keys, hoping that the voice mail would allow me to re-record my message.
No such luck. My only choice was to pretend it didn't happen, so I resorted to starting over in the middle of my own message, supplying my own beep! and my intended message asking for a brow wax.
When the aesthetician returned my call, she had a little laugh about it - but I know she secretly thinks I'm a nut job. It's all good.
My most embarrassing incident was when I was leaving a voice mail at a spa, requesting a waxing service. I was mid-message when I committed a spoonerism, asking for an appointment to 'brax my wows'. Startled by my mistake, I started punching the # and * keys, hoping that the voice mail would allow me to re-record my message.
No such luck. My only choice was to pretend it didn't happen, so I resorted to starting over in the middle of my own message, supplying my own beep! and my intended message asking for a brow wax.
When the aesthetician returned my call, she had a little laugh about it - but I know she secretly thinks I'm a nut job. It's all good.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Scared, Potter? You wish!
We recently went camping with my SIL and her husband's family. It was a beautiful woodland site next to a creek that was so picturesque that I half expected to see gnomes or fairies along the trails.
My youngest nephew is almost five-years old. He has the sweetest way of talking in that he drops R's from words - which makes him sound like he was raised in the toughest area of the Bronx, rather than Southern California.
When invited to play badminton, he asked if we were going to use "bodies". After a clarification, we realized he was saying birdies. Nephew laughed and said, "Not bodies! I said bodies..." with no discernible difference in the pronunciation between the two words.
The highlight was when Nephew referred to Harry Potter as Parry Hotter. Kids are cool like that.
My youngest nephew is almost five-years old. He has the sweetest way of talking in that he drops R's from words - which makes him sound like he was raised in the toughest area of the Bronx, rather than Southern California.
When invited to play badminton, he asked if we were going to use "bodies". After a clarification, we realized he was saying birdies. Nephew laughed and said, "Not bodies! I said bodies..." with no discernible difference in the pronunciation between the two words.
The highlight was when Nephew referred to Harry Potter as Parry Hotter. Kids are cool like that.
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