I'm not going to have much time to play with Blogger for a little while. I'm sure I'll be back, but not until after the big W. We have so many little things to take care of, apparently. Neither one of us thought we had a complicated event planned. But all in all, I'm having a fun time with it.
My mom calls every single day. She claims she's trying to find out if my brother has sent us his RSVP card yet. I, however, know this is code for "You didn't find the money trail from us to C, did you? You still believe he wasn't paid off to marry you, right?"
Anyone out there who needs a good read should check out the links over there on the right. Namely Bemused Musings' Rev Brandy - who has links to people I have also come to enjoy: Scagssville - Population Otter and Kid H and Smile Like You Mean It - Population Ryan.
Also visit 2 Hot Chiks - Theresa is brilliant and irreverant. And I love her. She also has a ton of links, like Al Goes to 11. Al likes to talk to Jeeber.
There are many many more, and I didn't mean to leave anyone out. I'm trying to throw this entry together before being late for work....again, as it is. My apologies if I missed people, and I know I have.
See you all in November sometime.
Zoom
Friday, October 14, 2005
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Children of the Garage Sale
Anyone who has ever had a garage sale probably knows all too well the the insanity of the event.
C and I signed up for a neighborhood, realtor sponsored garage sale. We needed to get rid of a ton of stuff that we just don't use, and don't need. The leftovers were to be donated to charity.
The realtor did all of the advertising, signs, and even printed little maps with other participants in it we were supposed to hand out.
The hours of said garage sale were "8am to 4pm".
HAH!
We started unloading items at 6:32 a.m. At 6:32.5 a.m., a truck pulled up in the twilight and offered to help us set up. At 6:35 a.m., three more vehicles descended on us and our junk.
Box lids were flying, items were being picked through, and calls of "how much for this" were heard.
I just kept punting to C. I can't deal with pushy garage sale pros. If I were going to answer out loud, it would have been "How about you guys just back the fuck off for 30 minutes and let us get our junk in order? Do you read? Can you read? Because this isn't supposed to be "on" until 8:00 a.m."
We had a steady flow of people until about 8:45, when 50% of our stuff had been paid for and taken away. By 9:30 a.m., 75 to 80% of it had been sold. We were done by noon.
Sold means prices were established, haggling* was had, and people took our stuff away.
*I called the haggling bickering. C - "It's haggling honey, not bickering." Zoom - "...feels like bickering."
I'd say something was .25 and they would demand I come down to .10. And I didn't have the energy to care, nor did I want to be left with things to put back in boxes. C and I had gotten up at 5:30 a.m. for this, and by 8 a.m. we were a couple of zombies.
And in the world's cruel calendaring style we have become accustomed to, we had a wedding of a good friend to attend that same day at 4:45 p.m.
There were really fun parts of the sale too. The children were the best to watch. With one exception which I will address later. But one little girl had picked up a teddy bear and was so adorable with her lawyer negotiation style of railroading dad into bying it. It wasn't snotty, or spoiled or anything like that. It was just cute, smart and oozed with charisma.
C started giving away toys to all of the little kids who became attached to one thing or the other. And when there were brothers and sisters involved, he'd say "oooh, I gave you something, now I need to give something to your brother/sister, or they will be jealous, huh." That part, I must say, was my favorite.
There was a set of brothers. One older than the other by about 2 years, if I had to guess. C had a set of Hulk Hands - giant green glove like things that make hulk noises when you hit them - that he gave to the older brother. The kid walked straight over to his little brother and socked him as hard as he could in the shoulder. The smaller boy fell to the grass and started to cry that "I should cry but I'm not really hurt cry." The parents didn't even flinch. We checked on the children and they appeared to be just fine. But I kept thinking "Of course he ran over and beat up his brother with an item we just gave him. Because that's how my child experiences go. They are either "special" and I yell at them, or I try and be nice up front and it ends up in tears and possible permanent damage. Good freaking grief."
I'm pretty sure that Satan's offspring is currently being driven around town in a tan, four door sedan. Strapped in a car seat. This child frightened the soul out of at least 10 adults. I was afraid to approach the general area without the aid of at least one ice hockey stick in my hands.
Things were going along normally, when suddenly a sickening sound made every person in a half mile radius stop in their tracks and look for the source. We looked to our left and saw the Satanmobile with Jr. strapped into his car seat in the back. No one could beleive the noise we had just heard came from that child, so we just ignored it and went back to our activities.
Seconds later, a thick scream pierced our ears again, this time with commands: "GEEEET BACK HERE DAMMIT RIGHT NOW THIS SECOND!" "YOU, MOM COME BACK NOOOOW, AND I MEAN NOW!" Anyone else seen Emily Rose? Because that is EXACTLY what it sounded like. C said he literally thought the child was on fire. The Mom didn't even blink. She just kept browsing.
I'm positive I can go another 10 years before I participate in another garage sale.
C and I signed up for a neighborhood, realtor sponsored garage sale. We needed to get rid of a ton of stuff that we just don't use, and don't need. The leftovers were to be donated to charity.
The realtor did all of the advertising, signs, and even printed little maps with other participants in it we were supposed to hand out.
The hours of said garage sale were "8am to 4pm".
HAH!
We started unloading items at 6:32 a.m. At 6:32.5 a.m., a truck pulled up in the twilight and offered to help us set up. At 6:35 a.m., three more vehicles descended on us and our junk.
Box lids were flying, items were being picked through, and calls of "how much for this" were heard.
I just kept punting to C. I can't deal with pushy garage sale pros. If I were going to answer out loud, it would have been "How about you guys just back the fuck off for 30 minutes and let us get our junk in order? Do you read? Can you read? Because this isn't supposed to be "on" until 8:00 a.m."
We had a steady flow of people until about 8:45, when 50% of our stuff had been paid for and taken away. By 9:30 a.m., 75 to 80% of it had been sold. We were done by noon.
Sold means prices were established, haggling* was had, and people took our stuff away.
*I called the haggling bickering. C - "It's haggling honey, not bickering." Zoom - "...feels like bickering."
I'd say something was .25 and they would demand I come down to .10. And I didn't have the energy to care, nor did I want to be left with things to put back in boxes. C and I had gotten up at 5:30 a.m. for this, and by 8 a.m. we were a couple of zombies.
And in the world's cruel calendaring style we have become accustomed to, we had a wedding of a good friend to attend that same day at 4:45 p.m.
There were really fun parts of the sale too. The children were the best to watch. With one exception which I will address later. But one little girl had picked up a teddy bear and was so adorable with her lawyer negotiation style of railroading dad into bying it. It wasn't snotty, or spoiled or anything like that. It was just cute, smart and oozed with charisma.
C started giving away toys to all of the little kids who became attached to one thing or the other. And when there were brothers and sisters involved, he'd say "oooh, I gave you something, now I need to give something to your brother/sister, or they will be jealous, huh." That part, I must say, was my favorite.
There was a set of brothers. One older than the other by about 2 years, if I had to guess. C had a set of Hulk Hands - giant green glove like things that make hulk noises when you hit them - that he gave to the older brother. The kid walked straight over to his little brother and socked him as hard as he could in the shoulder. The smaller boy fell to the grass and started to cry that "I should cry but I'm not really hurt cry." The parents didn't even flinch. We checked on the children and they appeared to be just fine. But I kept thinking "Of course he ran over and beat up his brother with an item we just gave him. Because that's how my child experiences go. They are either "special" and I yell at them, or I try and be nice up front and it ends up in tears and possible permanent damage. Good freaking grief."
I'm pretty sure that Satan's offspring is currently being driven around town in a tan, four door sedan. Strapped in a car seat. This child frightened the soul out of at least 10 adults. I was afraid to approach the general area without the aid of at least one ice hockey stick in my hands.
Things were going along normally, when suddenly a sickening sound made every person in a half mile radius stop in their tracks and look for the source. We looked to our left and saw the Satanmobile with Jr. strapped into his car seat in the back. No one could beleive the noise we had just heard came from that child, so we just ignored it and went back to our activities.
Seconds later, a thick scream pierced our ears again, this time with commands: "GEEEET BACK HERE DAMMIT RIGHT NOW THIS SECOND!" "YOU, MOM COME BACK NOOOOW, AND I MEAN NOW!" Anyone else seen Emily Rose? Because that is EXACTLY what it sounded like. C said he literally thought the child was on fire. The Mom didn't even blink. She just kept browsing.
I'm positive I can go another 10 years before I participate in another garage sale.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Office Lunchroom
I had to do some things on my lunch hour today, so I got some junky fast food and ate it in the office kitchen.
Two co-workers were already in there. This is what they said to each other:
Oh, and I have to add that they are both hispanic. The reason I had to type that will become clear in a moment.
_____________________________________
Her: "Oooh, look here in the paper. A list of the 25 Greatest Hispanics. Don't you want to read it?"
Him: "Oh, it's just a list of the 25 Mexicans that have managed to avoid jail. Not get busted - you know. There's only 25 of them left."
____________________________________
Here's the second conversation they had:
Him: "Do you know what I'm thinking about getting? I'm thinking about getting a kid."
Her: "What?"
Him: "You know, buy a kid...the foreign kids...the ones who can't feed themselves?"
Her: "You mean adopt - one of those charity type things. Why would you want to do that. Isn't it like $2.00 a day? If you want to feed someone, FEED ME!"
____________________________________
These two conversations made me bolt from my table and run to my desk where I wrote some notes on a stickie and stuck it in my purse so I'd remember to chronicle them here.
Thank goodness She said something about the charity adoption program thing. For a second I thought he really wanted to "buy" a kid. And I couldn't figure out why...since he's already got two at home.
Two co-workers were already in there. This is what they said to each other:
Oh, and I have to add that they are both hispanic. The reason I had to type that will become clear in a moment.
_____________________________________
Her: "Oooh, look here in the paper. A list of the 25 Greatest Hispanics. Don't you want to read it?"
Him: "Oh, it's just a list of the 25 Mexicans that have managed to avoid jail. Not get busted - you know. There's only 25 of them left."
____________________________________
Here's the second conversation they had:
Him: "Do you know what I'm thinking about getting? I'm thinking about getting a kid."
Her: "What?"
Him: "You know, buy a kid...the foreign kids...the ones who can't feed themselves?"
Her: "You mean adopt - one of those charity type things. Why would you want to do that. Isn't it like $2.00 a day? If you want to feed someone, FEED ME!"
____________________________________
These two conversations made me bolt from my table and run to my desk where I wrote some notes on a stickie and stuck it in my purse so I'd remember to chronicle them here.
Thank goodness She said something about the charity adoption program thing. For a second I thought he really wanted to "buy" a kid. And I couldn't figure out why...since he's already got two at home.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
I Am Speechless
Before I worked in law, I had an idea of how lawsuits ought to work. I think most of us do. Then there is the entertainment world skewing the expectations of how the legal system works. I've fallen for it myself, and I know better. So it's no surprise that when a case doesn't turn out the way the client thinks it should, they start throwing out terms and reasons that don't apply - but dammit, they believe they do - if only someone would listen.
Today, though, I was privy to a conversation that - how do I say - was a whole new level of "Do you hear what you are saying? No, really, CAN YOU HEAR YOURSELF?"
There is a Korean lady who contacted our office. She isn't our client, she is someone else's client. We will call her Joan. And this is the conversation that was had:
______________________________________
Joan: "I need to find an attorney, and I know you know some good ones."
Law Person: "What kind of case is it that you need help with?"
Joan: "It's an accounting matter. That one attorney you worked with, uh....her name is _______, is she Jewish? Because I need a Jewish attorney."
Law Person: "... uh ... well. I think she is, but what does that have to do with anything?"
Joan: "See, this is an accounting matter. And the attorney I hired before is Korean. And he went to law school with the defense attorney - AND HE'S KOREAN TOO. That is bad, because two Koreans, you see in my culture, you MUST respect your elders. And the defense attorney is older than my other attorney. So I don't think he got us the best result for us. Because he couldn't. You must not disrespect your superiors in my culture."
Law Person, trying to get out of this as clean as possible: "I think this might be a matter for a plaintiff's firm. We do mostly defense type work here. I'm sorry, but I don't think we can help you with this."
Joan: "But the attorney you worked with, is she Jewish? I NEED A GOOD JEWISH ATTORNEY!"
Today, though, I was privy to a conversation that - how do I say - was a whole new level of "Do you hear what you are saying? No, really, CAN YOU HEAR YOURSELF?"
There is a Korean lady who contacted our office. She isn't our client, she is someone else's client. We will call her Joan. And this is the conversation that was had:
______________________________________
Joan: "I need to find an attorney, and I know you know some good ones."
Law Person: "What kind of case is it that you need help with?"
Joan: "It's an accounting matter. That one attorney you worked with, uh....her name is _______, is she Jewish? Because I need a Jewish attorney."
Law Person: "... uh ... well. I think she is, but what does that have to do with anything?"
Joan: "See, this is an accounting matter. And the attorney I hired before is Korean. And he went to law school with the defense attorney - AND HE'S KOREAN TOO. That is bad, because two Koreans, you see in my culture, you MUST respect your elders. And the defense attorney is older than my other attorney. So I don't think he got us the best result for us. Because he couldn't. You must not disrespect your superiors in my culture."
Law Person, trying to get out of this as clean as possible: "I think this might be a matter for a plaintiff's firm. We do mostly defense type work here. I'm sorry, but I don't think we can help you with this."
Joan: "But the attorney you worked with, is she Jewish? I NEED A GOOD JEWISH ATTORNEY!"
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Guess What Lives in my Trash Can.
There's an alien civilization living in the trash can, in our bathroom.
Oh, and I guess it's worth mentioning that they are invisible.
You might be asking yourself what makes me believe this, and I'll tell you.
Every day C and I use q-tips. When we finish using them, we try to throw them away. Without fail, those q-tips are deflected by the alien force field, and deposited in the VERY NARROW space between the trash can and the wall.
It's truly amazing. You would think that having the can surrounded on two whole sides by wall would be the most excellent back board for flawless tip flinging. And it would be, if an advanced civilization hadn't decided to live in our trash can.
The force field is never down. However, one watching our daily routine might wonder why we seem to believe it will be one day. Because only crazy people would keep throwing things at an invisible force field - and then curse while retrieving the deflected trash the way we do.
Oh, and I guess it's worth mentioning that they are invisible.
You might be asking yourself what makes me believe this, and I'll tell you.
Every day C and I use q-tips. When we finish using them, we try to throw them away. Without fail, those q-tips are deflected by the alien force field, and deposited in the VERY NARROW space between the trash can and the wall.
It's truly amazing. You would think that having the can surrounded on two whole sides by wall would be the most excellent back board for flawless tip flinging. And it would be, if an advanced civilization hadn't decided to live in our trash can.
The force field is never down. However, one watching our daily routine might wonder why we seem to believe it will be one day. Because only crazy people would keep throwing things at an invisible force field - and then curse while retrieving the deflected trash the way we do.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Well Of Course He Is. That's How My Life Works.
I need to post about a partcular incident, just so I can get it out of my head.
Before I tell it though, there is something I need to say first. I'm not going to make excuses for myself. I will explain my thought process, but I'm not expecting anyone to say "aww gee, well it really is ok." Because it's really not ok with me - although I've made my peace with it for now. And the only thing that matters is how I deal with it in the future.
Thursday morning I went to my coffee place as I always do. C usually drives us to work, so he waits in the car while I get my coffee whistle.
On this particular day, there was no line. I was at the counter alone, there are two registers. A lady came tearing into the shop and rushed right up to the other register. She nearly ran me over, because I was somewhat standing in between the two stations. I was wating for my coffee and my muffin.
A few seconds later, I felt the presence of a child to the right of me. He was shoving his way between me and his...I presume....mother. He kept rapidly tapping me on my right hip. I looked over and decided he must have been about 10 or 11. I was a bit annoyed, but ignored it for the most part. His mom began to sternly speak to him in a language I couldn't understand.
The second my muffin/coffee hit the counter, I reached for it. The child then took both of his hands, placed them on my right hip and shoved me as hard as he could out of his way.
When I caught my balance I was FUMING. I was also completely shocked that a kid would push me! I stared him straight in the face, and he just looked at me like he wanted me dead. I then said to him, rather angrily "You do know you aren't supposed to push people, RIGHT?" He said NOTHING. His Mom said in English "Did you hear what she said to you!!!???"
I was so angry, and shocked at the same time that I just turned on my heels and quickly walked out of the store. I got in the car with C and tried to explain why I had "that look" on my face.
When I was done, C said "Honey, is that the kid you are talking about right there? The one coming out of the store?" When I said yes, it was, he continued "Well, I think he has issues."
My heart broke and then it sank to the lowest parts of my body. I was SICK. How could I have yelled at a "special" kid? What the hell was wrong with me? I asked him why he thought he might have issues, and he said that he had seen the kid outside kindof flailing before they entered the shop.
C says that even though he might have had a mental issue, I should still expect not to be shoved in public by perfect strangers. Be it a child or adult. And to a degree I agree with him. And I can tell myself that my reaction to a stranger even touching me was a lot more restrained than that which I was feeling at the moment - but I still feel really bad about it. Not only that, but if he indeed has issues, his care taker didn't seem to be very nurturing. But then again, I don't know a damn thing about kids in the first place.
I just wish I had taken the time to think about it before I reacted. THINK. C thinks perhaps the child was autistic. By all outward appearances, he looked "normal" enough. I wish I had asked his mother - "Could you explain to me why your child just pushed me?"
If I had done so, perhaps she would have said "I'm sorry, he's got this or that issue." I could have lived with that. I would have made room. I would have allowed them to go ahead of me.
And if the child has issues, is it wrong of me to expect the mom or guardian or whoever to let me know? To explain after the first physical contact that this is an extraordinary circumstance? Part of me says yes, it is wrong for me to expect that. Why should she have to tell everyone she interracts with why he's doing what he's doing? And maybe it's the first time he's actually physically reached out to a stranger?
The other part of me wonders why a mother wouldn't want to protect her child by letting the people around him know why these things are happening.
I'm also angry at myself for assuming. I assumed a lot of things in a split second. 1. Because I heard her talk to him in a stern way, I think I assumed she was trying to get him to behave. 2. I assumed it was ok to just address him directly instead of asking/venting at the mom. If I were a mom, I'd have to think a stranger addressing my child directly would anger me very much. Protective instincts would come out and I'd want to be the one to take care of the issue.
Before I tell it though, there is something I need to say first. I'm not going to make excuses for myself. I will explain my thought process, but I'm not expecting anyone to say "aww gee, well it really is ok." Because it's really not ok with me - although I've made my peace with it for now. And the only thing that matters is how I deal with it in the future.
Thursday morning I went to my coffee place as I always do. C usually drives us to work, so he waits in the car while I get my coffee whistle.
On this particular day, there was no line. I was at the counter alone, there are two registers. A lady came tearing into the shop and rushed right up to the other register. She nearly ran me over, because I was somewhat standing in between the two stations. I was wating for my coffee and my muffin.
A few seconds later, I felt the presence of a child to the right of me. He was shoving his way between me and his...I presume....mother. He kept rapidly tapping me on my right hip. I looked over and decided he must have been about 10 or 11. I was a bit annoyed, but ignored it for the most part. His mom began to sternly speak to him in a language I couldn't understand.
The second my muffin/coffee hit the counter, I reached for it. The child then took both of his hands, placed them on my right hip and shoved me as hard as he could out of his way.
When I caught my balance I was FUMING. I was also completely shocked that a kid would push me! I stared him straight in the face, and he just looked at me like he wanted me dead. I then said to him, rather angrily "You do know you aren't supposed to push people, RIGHT?" He said NOTHING. His Mom said in English "Did you hear what she said to you!!!???"
I was so angry, and shocked at the same time that I just turned on my heels and quickly walked out of the store. I got in the car with C and tried to explain why I had "that look" on my face.
When I was done, C said "Honey, is that the kid you are talking about right there? The one coming out of the store?" When I said yes, it was, he continued "Well, I think he has issues."
My heart broke and then it sank to the lowest parts of my body. I was SICK. How could I have yelled at a "special" kid? What the hell was wrong with me? I asked him why he thought he might have issues, and he said that he had seen the kid outside kindof flailing before they entered the shop.
C says that even though he might have had a mental issue, I should still expect not to be shoved in public by perfect strangers. Be it a child or adult. And to a degree I agree with him. And I can tell myself that my reaction to a stranger even touching me was a lot more restrained than that which I was feeling at the moment - but I still feel really bad about it. Not only that, but if he indeed has issues, his care taker didn't seem to be very nurturing. But then again, I don't know a damn thing about kids in the first place.
I just wish I had taken the time to think about it before I reacted. THINK. C thinks perhaps the child was autistic. By all outward appearances, he looked "normal" enough. I wish I had asked his mother - "Could you explain to me why your child just pushed me?"
If I had done so, perhaps she would have said "I'm sorry, he's got this or that issue." I could have lived with that. I would have made room. I would have allowed them to go ahead of me.
And if the child has issues, is it wrong of me to expect the mom or guardian or whoever to let me know? To explain after the first physical contact that this is an extraordinary circumstance? Part of me says yes, it is wrong for me to expect that. Why should she have to tell everyone she interracts with why he's doing what he's doing? And maybe it's the first time he's actually physically reached out to a stranger?
The other part of me wonders why a mother wouldn't want to protect her child by letting the people around him know why these things are happening.
I'm also angry at myself for assuming. I assumed a lot of things in a split second. 1. Because I heard her talk to him in a stern way, I think I assumed she was trying to get him to behave. 2. I assumed it was ok to just address him directly instead of asking/venting at the mom. If I were a mom, I'd have to think a stranger addressing my child directly would anger me very much. Protective instincts would come out and I'd want to be the one to take care of the issue.
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