For the Love of God (I do not thin’ it means what you thin’ it means.)
Posted: March 17, 2012 Filed under: awkward moments, Day-to-Day, family | Tags: Confirmation, religious ed, Shakespeare, these kids today 1 CommentHere’s a thing about me: I never got Confirmed. So there, now you know my dirty little secret…or at least dirty little secret number 714, right up there with the fact that I don’t really know too much Shakespeare. In my defense, I had a really awful college experience with Shakespeare. The prof was quite persnickety, and it was one of those classes where it seemed like everyone else knew something I didn’t (which, incidentally, they did) and they all got it, and I didn’t, and with the way I 
read, which is to say, quite slowly, there was no way I could ingest three or more plays a week, let alone plays by Shakespeare, which might as well have been written in a foreign language to my twenty-year-old self, because I had no idea what they were about. To this day, I can pretty much sum up Shakespeare thusly:
Romeo & Juliet: The one with Leonardo DiCaprio that Baz Luhrmann made famous. Rockin’ soundtrack. I mean, nothing goes together like Shakespeare and The Butthole Surfers. Am I right? Huh?
Richard III: The one in which Richard Dreyfus was starring in The Goodbye Girl. He was a king; he was gay, and he limped. (Richard III, I mean, not Dreyfus.)
Othello: The one with the black guy.
Hamlet: The one with Mel Gibson. Glenn Close played his mother. Were they kidding me? Oh, yeah, and it’s kind of like The Lion King.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream: Puck.
Henry V: Can’t you see this is the last act of a desperate man? — We don’t care if it’s the first act of Henry V. We’re leaving! (Blazing Saddles)
Coriolanus: The new Ralph Fiennes movie, which he directed, by the way. God, I hope I am pronouncing it correctly.
Plus I didn’t want to sit for three hours thrice a week for a summer seminar during a time in my life that was so troubled (long story short, my dad had just had a heart attack, and one of my good friends had hung himself from the bar in his closet that spring) that I hardly even went to class, and ended up just dropping out in July. (I eventually went back, changed my major to history and got the degree, which is pretty much the story of my life and brings me back to the Confirmation story. I mean, I complete things…eventually.) Maybe I will even get into Shakespeare someday. I do love Twelfth Night. That one I get, and it’s quite funny.
Anyway, a few weeks ago, in the weekly church bulletin, there was a notice that adults who had missed Confirmation could be confirmed during the Easter season. How convenient. As someone who has, in the last few years, come back into a faithful way, this would be a great opportunity to complete my Catholicism, make it whole. I had lied, of course, before we got married in the church, when they had asked me, “Have you been Confirmed?” I’m really uncomfortable with lying, but I’m also uncomfortable trying to sit through things like Catholic training classes, insurance seminars and root canal. For these three experiences, I have exactly equal enthusiasm.
But, for all rewards, some sacrifice must be endured, so I have been willing to give up my time to get Confirmed. It hasn’t been too bad. I have to go to the Deacon’s house once a week to talk about the sacraments. It wouldn’t be too bad at all, if weren’t for the other people I’m there with. Sorry, I hate to judge, but sometimes, you just have to make exceptions. I can’t help it. I’m human. They are this couple who are about to get married. She’s converting to Catholicism, and I just want to say two words to her. But I can’t say those two words to her, because those two words are, “Honey, run!” Run for your life. Don’t do it.
See, I’m sitting there every week at the Deacon’s dining room table, in a condo carved out of a centuries-old stone mill that looks like a church inside with its ornate archways and gilded lighting fixtures. There’s a crystal chandelier with fourteen bulbs and a multitude of cut-crystal teardrops that hangs over the table, which is covered by a dainty lace tablecloth. As the minutes tick away on a clock that chimes every quarter-hour in the same dulcet tones as the grandfather clock my grandparents had in their house, I sit there wondering how old the lace is. Did the Deacon and his wife get it as a wedding gift? Did Mrs. Deacon buy it on a trip to Ireland, perhaps? I think about how she has decorated their home. How she’s placed this lace on their table, how she’s arranged the Tiffany’s-blue-bordered china cups and saucers just so in the glass-fronted sideboard, and where is she at the moment anyway? (Last week I actually heard her answer the phone, but we have yet to see her.)
I know a lot of what the Deacon is telling us already. I went to 12 years of Catholic school, plus three years of Catholic pre-school and kindergarten. I went through Pre-Cana classes before we got married. I have had three children baptised in that same church, and two of them have had their first Communions and first Reconciliations there. I have worked for years as a Catholic school teacher, even teaching religion myself, which has required hours of Catechist training. The Deacon isn’t telling me a single thing I haven’t heard before. But he’s a sweet man, actually kind of funny, and I figure this is where I need to be to get where I need to go.
Totally natural pose, Dave. Nailed it!
It’s all perfect, except for one thing: The oaf she’s marrying. He sits there, squirming in his chair, biting his nails and flicking bits of chewed epidermis onto the Deacon’s oriental carpet. He rolls his eyes. He grunts. He asks irrelevant questions about Vatican II and what the Protestants or Episcopalians do. I keep thinking about marriage and how it’s not all fun and excitement, how sometimes it’s just the two of you all night in front of the TV, and while you may certainly love that other person, sometimes the things they do drive you crazy. They make noise when they eat popcorn, or they sneeze too dramatically, or they talk when you’re trying to hear how David Caruso’s going to crack this case before the end of the hour.
But then I realize that I’m totally wrong. What do I know? They could be perfect for each other. And to prove the point, I offer this story: We’d been there almost an hour and a half, which after dealing with a day of work, and traffic, and for me, kids, was getting kind of late into the evening. Sure, I wanted to be in my pjs and bunny slippers listening to Manfrengensen munching on popcorn by the lights of the TV and his iPad, but I was making this sacrifice. I was willing to sit until the Deacon had finished saying what he had to say. He’d taken time to prepare this presentation, and I respected that.
The clock chimed 8:30, going through half of the full melody that it chimes on the hour. And she interrupted with the first words she had said all evening; the first words I had ever heard her say in fact. Her voice was shy, a little thin, youthful and reedy, “Excuse me,” she said, and the Deacon looked up hopefully from his Catechism book to her, as if expecting some kind of epiphany on her part. “We have to go,” she continued. ” There is a television show on at nine o’clock and we forgot to tape it, so we need to leave now.”
My chin nearly hit the lace on the table. So, what you’re basically saying is that God is great and all, love hearing about the god, but American Idol (or whatever it is) takes precedence? Those are some Twenty-first Century Cajones, know what I mean?
But the Deacon was sweet and released us for the night. Maybe there was something on that he wanted to watch as well.
Life is funny, isn’t it? It certainly seems to come up with the surprises. I don’t know about you, but I never ever expect what’s coming. It always throws me for a loop, like reading a McEwan novel, only with more laugh-out-loud absurdity. And I have to say, thank God for that.
5 p.m.
Posted: March 7, 2012 Filed under: blogging, Day-to-Day | Tags: 5 pm, fat mum slim, Photo A Day, Photo A Day Challenge Leave a commentTaking Clooney to bass lessons.
Neighborhood
Posted: March 5, 2012 Filed under: blogging, Day-to-Day, family | Tags: bus stop, fat mum slim, neighborhood, photo, Photo A Day, Photo A Day Challenge Leave a commentIt was a busy weekend, so I am a little behind with my photo blogging. Saturday’s prompt was “Neighborhood”. I documented the bus stop.
Fruit
Posted: March 2, 2012 Filed under: blogging, Day-to-Day | Tags: fat mum slim, fruit, March, meme, Photo A Day, Photo A Day Challenge, photos 1 Comment
Fruit of Convenience
Fruit of the Next Generation
Fruit of the Loom
Up
Posted: March 1, 2012 Filed under: blogging, Day-to-Day | Tags: blogging, fat mum slim, photo, up March photo a day Leave a commentI’m going to try to do this photo a day challenge in March from fat mum slim. Today’s prompt is “Up”.
It’s kind of funny: I took the photo in my car, just as the clouds were parting, after 36 hours of gray. The sun was peeking out just then. Right before I took the photo, it looked like a pale ball. You can see the rain spots on my windshield, but my favorite part is the Apple reflection from my iPhone in the glass.
A Titanic Potty Mouth
Posted: February 14, 2012 Filed under: Day-to-Day, family, kids, parenting | Tags: Cameron, cursing, kids, language, Titanic Leave a commentThe kids have recently discovered James Cameron’s epic, Titanic. It’s because of Clooney. He’s into disasters for some reason, and recently he latched onto the Titanic story. He’s checked out the
Click for link to Amazon.com
same book from the school library for the past six weeks in a row, Explore Titanic combing over its pages almost every night before he goes to sleep. And then, a few weeks ago, the Cameron film was on HBO, so we DVR’d it.
It had been years since I’d seen the movie, which I don’t think is all that, frankly. I mean, technologically it’s awesome. Verbally, not so much. The dialog is downright cheesy at times, and the whole thing with the gun in the end is just unnecessary and preposterous. But the kids like it.
Of course, I didn’t really remember how violent the movie was. At the end, people are falling off the deck and bouncing off the rotors of the propeller. Pretty gruesome stuff. And then — when everybody’s frozen in the water, right before Rose wakes up and realizes she’s alone — pretty creepy. But again, the kids dug it. I kept asking if they wanted me to turn it off, but on the contrary, they were riveted by the film.
And Clooney, with his expert knowledge of the ship, he kept pointing out first class, third class, and at one point, he asked me, “Is that supposed to be Bruce Ismay?” I’m telling you: the kid knows his Titanic shizz.
The other thing I didn’t really remember was the language, which is peppered with gratuitous profanity. I cringed every time one of the characters let an expletive fly, which was not infrequently.
Not that I don’t curse. I’m no sailor or anything, but there have been occasions where I’ve lost control, usually when something has startled me, and a four-letter word has escaped my mouth. I am a human in the 21st Century. I’m not The Big Lebowski over here, nor do I claim to be one of Mr. Rogers’ neighbors. I live in the real world, and I realize that I cannot shelter my children at all times, especially from my own failings.
So, that takes us to what happened yesterday at the bus stop. As I got out of the car to go stand on the corner with Clooney, I grabbed my coat (because I can’t drive with a coat on — freaky that way). And as the coat came across the front seat, it brushed the top of my XL coffee cup, which proceeded to turn completely over, DUMPING caramel-colored liquid onto my fine (who am I kidding? It’s been dumped on before, but still, I like to think it’s fine, so just indulge me here) leather driver’s seat. So, you know, it just came out. “Shhht!” I really should carry a double roll of Bounty paper towels with me at all times. And some Clorox wipes. And a lint brush. and…
Anyway, Clooney kind of chided me then, and I am still not sure whether or not he did it tongue-in-cheek. “Why do you have to say that?” he smiled slyly. “Who do you think you are? Leonardo DiCaprio?”
That’s right, Jack.
That SHOULD Be a Word
Posted: February 5, 2012 Filed under: Day-to-Day, Media | Tags: lizzie skurnick, nytimes, tabdikate, That should be a word Leave a commentTodays’s 1-Page offering in The New York Times Magazine features a “That Should Be A Word” entry by Lizzie Skurnick that totally applies to me.
TABDICATE
(TAB-di-kate) v.
1. To let someone else figure out how to split the check, as in “Sally loved to tabdicate after group meals; she hated long division.”
Sally=Egghead23.
Love it.
The Help That Needed Some Help
Posted: January 21, 2012 Filed under: awkward moments, Day-to-Day, family | Tags: cleaning, Festivus Leave a commentI hope you had a lovely holiday season. Ours was very nice, but you know, never without a particularly memorable experience. Right before Christmas this year, we had a small gathering of family here at the house for Festivus. Festivus is a Seinfeld-inspired holiday where you put up a pole instead of a tree, air your grievances and compete in feats of strength. Tradition states that Festivus doesn’t end until someone pins the head of the household in a wrestling match.
The traditional Festivus meal is meatloaf, so I made meatloaf sliders, and then we had bagel bites pizzas for the kids and a sub tray. We also planned to play board games instead of performing those feats of strength. I had a pole, which was a shower curtain rod that had fallen down in the hall bathroom, so we set that in the living room across from our traditional Christmas tree.
Before the party, Manfrengensen told me that I could hire someone to clean the house. This was a pretty exciting prospect, because it’s very rare that I have the WHOLE house clean all at the same time. I can do it over a week’s time, but then, as soon as I finish, it’s time to start over, right? And because I am so diligent a housekeeper, I am forever on this gerbil wheel and have almost nothing else to do with my time. Ahem, ahem, ahem.
So, I asked around, and a friend knew someone who was available on the 23rd, which was also the day of the Festivus party. So that was great. I could cook all the food on Thursday and mess up the kitchen, then the next day, all the evidence would be wiped away. In addition to that plan, we were less diligent about cleaning up after ourselves. I felt like we were living in the fish tank of Finding Nemo and planning an escape.
If you are any kind of regular reader of this blog, I think you know how my well-laid plans usually tend to work out, right?
Thursday, while I was out buying all the ingredients for my Festivus feast, the house cleaner called to say that because her partner was ill with pneumonia, she would be unable to help us. So I panicked. The house was a mess, plus I had laundry, cooking and a number of other Christmas-related tasks yet to be accomplished. I did not have time in those 24 hours to get the house company-ready. I called around and found one cleaning service, Merry Maids, that had a slot that was even available on the Friday before Christmas, so I hired them. Never mind the price (which was 40% higher because of the holiday), I just wouldn’t tell Manfrengensen unless he asked (which he did) and if need be I still have two kidneys, so I could always sell one to cover the nut. Right?
Two women showed up early Friday morning and began to clean upstairs. Manfrengensen took the kids out to do their Christmas shopping, and I came in here to the office to clean what had basically become our “catch-all” room (see End of Year Musings: Week 2 for evidence) and the morning flew by. The whole time, I wanted it clean, but also wanted it fast because they bill by the hour. I was still in the office when one of the ladies started in the kitchen. For some reason, she decided to take the stove apart, and in the center, there’s a grill that I never use because how the heck am I going to clean that? It’s covered by a large steel rectangular cover. So I heard her taking it apart, and I was thinking it wasn’t necessary, but I didn’t want to tell her how to do her job, and not long after that I heard what was obviously some kind of injury, or a reaction to some kind of injury. I waited a minute before going in to see if she was okay. I didn’t want to crowd her, but if it was serious, of course I wanted to help in any way possible.
Well, it was serious. I mean, she needed stitches. She had cut her finger as if with a straight razor, deep and throbbing. She couldn’t get it to stop bleeding. They called their office to get someone to replace her, but no one was available. I felt really helpless. I wanted her to be okay. I wanted her to go to the ER. But at the same time, I wanted someone to come and finish cleaning the house. I didn’t say that of course, I just kept handing her paper towels, gauze and band-aids, which she proceeded 
to soak through in short order. I felt a bit like Diane Weist’s self-centered actress character, Helen Sinclair in the Woody Allen film Bullets over Broadway. I don’t have a clip, but there’s this scene where Helen shows up late for rehearsal, giving the reason that her pedicurist suffered a stroke and fell forward, plunging the orange stick into Helen’s toe. “It required bandaging,” she adds as if it’s the most important detail of the story.
I know — I can pretty much attach any event in my life to something in a movie. Gift or curse? That’s for you to decide.
Anyway, long story short (too late) they finished cleaning the house. (A Festivus miracle!) I felt awful for this poor woman, and two days before Christmas! From that point she did the dusting, nothing wet, and the other woman handled all the other stuff. Despite going through half a roll of paper towels and all the gauze and band-aids I had in the house, she was still bleeding badly enough to have to change the dressing every twenty minutes or so by the time she left.
So I said, “Are you going to the ER now?”
She just shrugged and said no. She and her partner had two more houses to clean that day! I felt so bad for her.
Needless to say, with this experience, coupled with the time a different woman stole all my jewelry, we’re probably not having anyone in to clean for quite a few future Festivuses. (Or is it Festivi?)
Day from Hell (except for lunch)
Posted: January 18, 2012 Filed under: Day-to-Day, family, kids, parenting, teaching moments | Tags: dreams, kids, morning routine Leave a commentSometimes, I cannot believe all the things I accomplish before 8 am. I get up (after slapping the snooze two or three times), take a handful of pills, shower, wake Edison, finish dressing, and go make sure Edison has gotten out of bed before heading downstairs. If Manfrengensen is up, I might also make our bed. Then it’s a start to the coffee maker before I open the blinds and go find everyone’s lunch boxes, 2 of 3 still being in certain people’s backpacks.
I collect lunches, (Manfrengensen usually makes the sandwiches the night before and puts them in the fridge) but I get together all of the drinks and sides, forks and napkins, get it all collected and sorted, and add an extra snack for Clooney’s mid-morning, plus refill his water bottle or I’ll never hear the end of it. Then I go wake The Princess and Clooney, usually trying to be fun about it, but that’s not always the most practical approach. Sometimes, all the laundry hasn’t been folded and put away, so I will have to go down to the laundry room to get someone a shirt or pair of pants.
Then it’s time for me to hurry Edison along, and when he comes down, I will make his breakfast to order and get his milk for him. When I remember, I also dole out Claritin and vitamins to him and Clooney. Clooney sometimes appears not long after Edison, but more often he
Somedays I feel like Mrs. Incredible...
somehow makes it downstairs before his brother, and then I make his breakfast to order and the requisite chocolate milk (that boy, like his mother, is a slave to the Dark Master, and I’m not talking about Voldemort) and usually get him doing his homework (which I have at some point between opening the blinds and waking him, found and put out on the counter along with a pencil) since he is better focused before school than after.
Once they are eating, I will usually go try to drag The Princess out of bed, which is a drag. She is a grumpy bear in the morning. Once I get her out of bed, she’ll try to start a fight, typically about wearing something crazy like a sleeveless ballet leotard when it’s long-underwear weather or shoes that are two sizes too small or large, but I don’t take the bait. Hey, if she wants to be cold, or have blisters on her heels, who am I to stand in her way? I’ve got other fish I am frying at the moment. But I have recently started brushing her teeth for her, after two years of not doing that, because I found she wasn’t really brushing them, even though she would tell me she was.
So then, it’s back to getting Edison ready to catch the bus. Does he have his homework? Does he have his violin? Does he have his music? His script? His shoes? And if any of those items are missing, I will need to help him find it lest I end up driving him to school. No matter what time I get him up, he’s always running to catch the bus. And sometimes, after I watch him leave, after we’ve been through all those “Do you have?”s — I will return to the kitchen and there on the counter will be his lunchbox, or his violin, or his music. Then I know I have got another errand to run today. But you know, that’s another battle I have decided not to fight anymore. The kid is who he is. After six years of trying to change that, I’m just going with it. It takes so much less energy to just drive that sh@& to school.
By then, The Princess has made her appearance. Does she want breakfast? Sometimes. Sometimes she’ll want to go play Polly Pockets in the basement for the 20 minutes we have until we have to leave. Sometimes she’ll watch Spongebob. Occasionally she will allow me to brush the hair that has fashioned itself overnight into what appears to be a squirrel’s nest. Yes, she will allow me, but she won’t like it, and won’t be shy at all about saying so throughout the ENTIRE brushing session.
Then I will usually clear out the dishwasher and put all that stuff away if I have time. Sometimes there might even be time for me to have breakfast, but that’s rare. When it’s almost time to leave, I will give them a warning to get shoes on, which they typically heed, unless the TV is on. So then I make sure they have their backpacks and lunch boxes and library books and sneakers for PE and get your shoes on it’s time to go. No your shoes. And your coat and hat and gloves. And while I am directing them to the car, I am pouring myself coffee (and making that a double) for the road, and they will be out in the garage as I rifle through the junk drawer for my keys and follow them, and then we are off to the bus stop.
That’s the usual routine, anyway. Very little variation from day-to-day. Though this morning, I had the strangest dream around 6 am. First of all, I dreamt that my stepmother, who has quite the green thumb, was growing these beautiful exotic kind of orchids in the tank of her toilet. (I know, wtf, right?) But then, I was running away from The Princess, not sure why, though I am sure I could dig a bit deeper for those seeds. Anyway, I was running through a wooded area in the early morning, and I was worried that spiders might have been spinning webs in the night, so I was waving my arms in front of me as I ran. Then, my bare feet ran through a thick spider web, which snapped and wound around my ankle, which was when I noticed a HUGE spider at the end of the thread, now clinging to my leg, and I tried to kick it off.
And I woke up, just after my foot made contact with Manfrengensen’s shin in the real world. “Sorry, sorry,” I said.
So then, today was a little bit different because The Princess had her annual physical scheduled for this morning, and she was quite excited about this because she was hoping to need glasses. When she was informed by the medical staff that she, in fact, has 20/20 vision, and therefore does not need spectacles, she proceeded to make one of herself, practically crying her eyes out in the exam room while we were waiting for the doctor to come in. What am I supposed to say to that? Sorry you don’t need glasses, honey? Who wants glasses? As someone who is just above “mole” on the vision scale, I can attest to the fact that glasses are no great shakes. But she doesn’t listen to me, so…
Then she started with the not wanting to go to school routine, and that was tough titties as far as I was concerned. Thankfully, by the time I got her to school, she was cool with the arrangement and gave me a quick kiss before joining her friends in the classroom. Now I had just enough time to cross the northern part of the state to meet a friend for lunch. I texted her to let her know that I was spinning in circles, and she kindly agreed to meet me at a closer venue. We had a nice lunch,
...other days not so much.
great visit, plus I had a little time to run a quick errand before we met.
As soon as we were finished though, I had to head back to The Princess’s school to pick her up, stopping along the way for a few quick groceries. Got her, brought her home, gave her a snack and unloaded the groceries with very little time left before we had to go pick up Clooney from his bus stop. From there, we went to Edison’s school to grab him from his extracurricular activity, ran him home for a quick dinner, and then took everyone out again (because Manfrengensen is at a basketball game tonight) so that Edison could go to orchestra practice at yet another middle school which is even farther from home than his own. Since we had only an hour before we had to return for him, I took the other two for dinner at Panera, which was fun, and then we went back to collect Edison.
Got home, everyone snacked and showered, read a chapter of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix to the three of them and now, I am enjoying the quiet. Not really a day from hell, just a long one. I don’t know how most people fit a full-time square job into the mix. Hat’s off to those of you who do.
End of Year Musings Week 3
Posted: December 17, 2011 Filed under: blogging, Day-to-Day, family, friends, kids, parenting | Tags: End of Year meme, Thinkit, travel Leave a commentWeek 3: Experiences
Monday, Dec 12: Travel
Did you take a big trip this year? Or maybe even just a little one? Where did you go?
I took a few trips this year. First, Manfrengensen and I went to NYC in May, and we saw The Motherf**er in the Hat, starring Bobby Cannavale and Chris Rock. We also saw Midnight in Paris, and it was fun seeing a Woody Allen film in the city. And then we returned there in July with the kids when it was hot as Hades. In the Fall, we went to Orlando to visit Disney World and Universal. It was such a great trip, and we were sorry when it ended, even though the kids had Manfrengensen burning the candle at both ends.
Tuesday, Dec 13: Getting Lost
Share a time that you got lost this year. Did you learn anything?
The only time I can think of that we got lost this year was when Manfrengensen accidentally went toward the Magic Kingdom Park instead of the hotel. He had to turn the rented mini-van around and cross five lanes of traffic (and maybe even a bit of grassy divider), which he did in a hilarious goofy way that had us all laughing and white-knuckled at the same time. But hey, it was a rental, right?
Wednesday, Dec 14: Reconnecting
Where do you go to reconnect with you? Did you experience a place where you found solace?
Massage is always good for that. But really, I think I find solace in my husband and my family. That’s always the best place to be, even though sometimes the solace can be in short supply.In general, I’m pretty happy with myself these days. It’s taken a long time, but you know what? I am who I am, and that’s all I can be. I’ve come to accept that that’s a good thing.
Waiting After Traveling by Waleed Arshad
Thursday, Dec 15: Indulgence
What did you indulge in this year? Get yourself or someone something extra special? Do something you’ve never done before?
This year we bought two pieces of art by Iraqi artist Waleed Arshad. I saw his work in a local coffee shop and just fell in love with it. By the time I went back to the shop, the exhibit had changed and it took me a couple of months to track down Arshad. I actually bought two paintings, one from his Ancient Symbols collection (which was what I had seen at the coffee shop), and one from an earlier exhibition. It’s not just a decoration in our living room. When I stop to look at it, it speaks to my heart. Just some amazing work. If you get a chance to visit his work when it’s showing in a gallery, or even if you can take a moment to explore his website, please check it out.
Friday, Dec 16: Helping Out
How did you get involved in your community this year?
I’ve been pretty involved this year. I chaired the Book Fair at The Princess’s school in the Fall, which was pretty crazy, and yet really fun. I also helped with the Christmas pageant at my church. Another thing that I do every month is cook for the local soup kitchen, which involves making a bunch of chicken and desserts. I really enjoy doing that. I like to cook, and it makes me feel good to help out every month.
Saturday, Dec 17: Choice
What was the wisest decision you made this year?
I’ll let you know when I make one.
Sunday, Dec 18: Technology
What technology changed your world this year? Pick a gadget, a website… how did it make a difference for you?
I got an iPhone this year. I was always against the smartphone revolution, though now, I have no idea why. The other day, my friend and I were having lunch, and she mentioned that her daughter wants a pink scooter for Christmas, but the salesman at Dick’s told her that they don’t make a pink scooter any more.
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “Target has pink Razor scooters out the yin-yang.” And to prove it, all I had to do was punch “pink scooter” into the Target app on my phone. Sure enough, there was a pink Razor there that was in the same price range as the black concession she had purchased at Dick’s. What did we do before iPhones? We wondered. We settled for no pink scooter, that’s what.
Prompts courtesey of Thinkit.com
egghead23's world 