I am afraid of bats. There. I said it. Just thinking about being afraid of bats gives me the creeps.
Yesterday was a beautiful day and I decided I wanted steaks on the grill. I had the grill brush in my hand when I saw a brown object laying on my porch and went to go check it out.
Now I believe men were put on this earth to change my oil, fix my flat tires and kill everything that scares me and/or is icky. So I have no idea WHY I decided to walk up to this "thing" instead of yelling/screaming/screeching for my husband.
Not only did I go to check it out, I used the grill brush that was in my hand to poke it. It turned out to be a dead, brown, nasty looking (and probably blood-sucking) little bat. I am very proud of myself b/c I still didn't scream but I did call for the man of the household to come and dispose of it. Which he did. But not before he looked at me in disbelief that I actually touched it with our only grill brush and was quite upset that we would now not be able to clean the grill. (He had NO concern for the fact that there was a freaking DEAD BAT on my porch!) He spent the evening questioning me on what exactly my reasoning was for using the grill brush. Was I planning on killing it if it was alive? Did I think the grill brush would protect me?
I have to admit I really did not give much thought when I went up and poked it with a utensil that will touch an object that we eat from. However, I think it was completely rational to approach an unknown object armed with a weapon, regardless of what that weapon might be. Plus, it had a sharp, pointy part on the end.
Today I bought a new grill brush or as I like to think of it, my protector. It may not fit in my purse as well as a can of pepper spray but just holding it gives me a sense of power.
Yeah, that's right...move over Batman, Batwoman is here! Or Grill Brush Girl. Haven't quite figured out my superhero name yet.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Hot-N-Ready
People find solace in lots of different ways. There are 18,700,000 results on Google for "solace". None of which I read because they do not bring me assuagement. (I did;however, use the online thesaurus.)
When I find myself in need of some comfort I like to go somewhere by myself to read. Tonight I was trying to figure out where I could go when my h. suggested I go to Barnes & Noble because, well, there are already a lot of books there. He then added as long as I don't spend $5 on a cup of coffee and $7 on a slice of cheesecake. I grabbed my book and headed out but decided that since I didn't have dinner, I might not be able to resist the cheesecake. Instead I tried to think of where I was craving to dine.
If I had to pick only one food to eat for the rest of my life it would be pizza. Little Caesars has the cheapest pizza around and it is hot-n-ready (who was the marketing genius that came up with that one?) but they are carry-out only. This placed me in need of some decision making. Do I eat somewhere that is $2/slice or buy an entire pizza at $6 for 8 slices but have nowhere to eat it? I went for the entire pie. So now I am driving along with the smell of hot, delicious pizza next to me when I think that I also really want Coldstone Creamery.
When my h. called, he asked if I had made it to Barnes & Noble.
"Not exactly."
"Well, then where are you?"
So...I told him the truth. That I was sitting in the car in the parking lot outside of Coldstone Creamery eating pizza from a box and finishing it off with chocolate cake batter ice cream mixed with cookie dough and fudge while reading chick lit. And at $6 for the pizza and $5 for the ice cream, I had actually SAVED $1.
It was actually quite peaceful and I felt really renewed when I arrived home.
And full. What more could a girl ask for?
When I find myself in need of some comfort I like to go somewhere by myself to read. Tonight I was trying to figure out where I could go when my h. suggested I go to Barnes & Noble because, well, there are already a lot of books there. He then added as long as I don't spend $5 on a cup of coffee and $7 on a slice of cheesecake. I grabbed my book and headed out but decided that since I didn't have dinner, I might not be able to resist the cheesecake. Instead I tried to think of where I was craving to dine.
If I had to pick only one food to eat for the rest of my life it would be pizza. Little Caesars has the cheapest pizza around and it is hot-n-ready (who was the marketing genius that came up with that one?) but they are carry-out only. This placed me in need of some decision making. Do I eat somewhere that is $2/slice or buy an entire pizza at $6 for 8 slices but have nowhere to eat it? I went for the entire pie. So now I am driving along with the smell of hot, delicious pizza next to me when I think that I also really want Coldstone Creamery.
When my h. called, he asked if I had made it to Barnes & Noble.
"Not exactly."
"Well, then where are you?"
So...I told him the truth. That I was sitting in the car in the parking lot outside of Coldstone Creamery eating pizza from a box and finishing it off with chocolate cake batter ice cream mixed with cookie dough and fudge while reading chick lit. And at $6 for the pizza and $5 for the ice cream, I had actually SAVED $1.
It was actually quite peaceful and I felt really renewed when I arrived home.
And full. What more could a girl ask for?
Thursday, April 14, 2011
"C'est la vie", say the old folks
I have to admit that all of the rain and cold lately had been getting to me a little. I usually try never to complain about the weather but even I (who likes to snuggle on rainy days and read, read, read) was getting quite frustrated with the lack of sunshine.
Finally a beautiful day and to celebrate, L. and I decided to go to Friendly's to do our school work. One of the many beauties of homeschooling is combining classic literature and ice cream sundaes!
In the booth behind me was an elderly couple. Now I am not the best at determining someone's biological age by their outward appearance and because of my own experiences of being the recipient of age discrimination, I try never to attempt at guessing. (It just so happens that I look much younger than my actual age. When my children were toddlers we would be out and about and they would be displaying typical toddler behavior. I would usually be exasperated and weary and people often mistook me for a fledgling teenage mother and "feel sorry for me." For the record, I had my first son when I was 27.) If I had to guess, I'd say they were in their late 70's.
The Chuck Berry song, "You Never Can Tell" started playing and I heard the woman say, "I love this song."
Husband: "What song?"
Wife: "The song playing. I really like it. Can't you hear it?"
H: "No. I can't hear anything."
W: "Do you have your hearing aid in?"
H: "Yes."
W: "Both of them?"
H: "Yes, both of them!"
W: "You can't hear me half of the time and I can't hear you the other half."
H: "That's why we go so well together."
Now, at this point I was smiling at the sweetness of the conversation and the idea of growing old with someone.
W: "Do you remember this song?"
H: "No."
Now I am eagerly waiting for her to tell about their young romance and how they were just like the couple in the song. Except she didn't.
W: "Remember when John Travolta danced to this song in that movie? Ah...that John Travolta!"
I almost choked on my coffee! I never would have pegged her as a Quentin Tarantino fan but..."it goes to show you never can tell!"
Finally a beautiful day and to celebrate, L. and I decided to go to Friendly's to do our school work. One of the many beauties of homeschooling is combining classic literature and ice cream sundaes!
In the booth behind me was an elderly couple. Now I am not the best at determining someone's biological age by their outward appearance and because of my own experiences of being the recipient of age discrimination, I try never to attempt at guessing. (It just so happens that I look much younger than my actual age. When my children were toddlers we would be out and about and they would be displaying typical toddler behavior. I would usually be exasperated and weary and people often mistook me for a fledgling teenage mother and "feel sorry for me." For the record, I had my first son when I was 27.) If I had to guess, I'd say they were in their late 70's.
The Chuck Berry song, "You Never Can Tell" started playing and I heard the woman say, "I love this song."
Husband: "What song?"
Wife: "The song playing. I really like it. Can't you hear it?"
H: "No. I can't hear anything."
W: "Do you have your hearing aid in?"
H: "Yes."
W: "Both of them?"
H: "Yes, both of them!"
W: "You can't hear me half of the time and I can't hear you the other half."
H: "That's why we go so well together."
Now, at this point I was smiling at the sweetness of the conversation and the idea of growing old with someone.
W: "Do you remember this song?"
H: "No."
Now I am eagerly waiting for her to tell about their young romance and how they were just like the couple in the song. Except she didn't.
W: "Remember when John Travolta danced to this song in that movie? Ah...that John Travolta!"
I almost choked on my coffee! I never would have pegged her as a Quentin Tarantino fan but..."it goes to show you never can tell!"
Monday, April 4, 2011
I Spy With My Little Eye
Trust no one. Deny everything.
Incredibly fun day today! My 8 yr. old son and I went to the International Spy Museum in Washington, D.C.
This was a surprise for him and truly a great one because he has wanted to be a spy for a long time. Last year he was cast as a spy in a play and after finding out his role he said nervously to me, "How did they know to make me the spy? Do they know that I really am a spy?"
He has some books on spies and the totally crappy Spy Gear toys that they make (which we actually bought more of today...argh). He also has a secret spy team that consists of his cousins but since they live so far away he never really gets to play. I knew he had been feeling a little down about his spying and then about 2 wks. ago he said rather glumly, "I don't think I will ever actually get to be a spy. I don't even know how you go to college for that."
So I knew this trip would be AMAZING for him. And it truly was. Here I will log the details of our mission. Read at your own risk. Password: I have nothing better to do than read this blog.
ACCESS GRANTED
We began our mission in the parking garage. I pulled into the garage, took my ticket and proceeded to drive around and look for a space. I was accosted by a parking attendant. I rolled down the window (b/c I was in my sister's car and it doesn't have automatic windows) and he tells me that I have to get out of the car so he can park it. I gave him my "are you kidding" me look and then tried to explain that I had absolutely nothing prepared to be able to get out of the car that quickly. He allowed me to pull over and gave me time to gather everything I needed to leave the car in a parking garage for the day and of course I was slightly frantic and talking to myself...money, license, tickets, child, keys...which was where he interrupted and said, "I will need your keys to park the car." And I think he may have been laughing a little bit at me. I'm not sure. At this point L. and I were very suspicious about at what point the spy mission actually began. Could this parking attendant be trusted? Could anyone named Fernando ever really be trusted?
We eventually made it to the museum and started our "Spy in the City" tour. They gave us our Geo-COBRA GPS units with ear buds and sent us out into the streets. Here we were, trying to read the clues and find the right streets, staring down at our units and completely engrossed when I realize that my precious child is about to walk out into 4 lanes of city traffic! Of course, he is also wearing the ear buds so he can hear the clues but not his mother yelling!
We ended up at the Roosevelt Memorial where we needed to decode a message that completely stupefied us. This is where we met up with another family from Kentucky consisting of a single mom and her 2 sons who also couldn't figure out the code and between the 5 of us we eventually made it to the next landmark. We spent the rest of the tour with them learning absolutely NOTHING about our nation's capital except for the fact that one of the 4 P's on Franklin's statue does NOT stand for "philanderer" but "philanthropist".
We spent the next several hours exploring the museum. One of my favorite moments was when I heard a mother rather heatedly exclaiming to her son, "I would make the worst spy because I have been looking everywhere and couldn't find you!"
The museum gift shop was appropriately outfitted with everything "spy" except for the cashiers who must have been double agents working for a competing company trying to steal profits because my bill was $45.70, I gave her a $50 and she gave me back 2 $20's and a $5. She started to help the next person in line when I had to interrupt her and almost force her to take back the money and give me the correct change. Then I had to give my son a moral object lesson about honesty. I have to admit that there was a second when I just wanted to pocket the extra cash but I closed my eyes and said my silent prayer of apology, "Sorry about that, Chief."
We were finally debriefed and sent home.
Mission complete.
Incredibly fun day today! My 8 yr. old son and I went to the International Spy Museum in Washington, D.C.
This was a surprise for him and truly a great one because he has wanted to be a spy for a long time. Last year he was cast as a spy in a play and after finding out his role he said nervously to me, "How did they know to make me the spy? Do they know that I really am a spy?"
He has some books on spies and the totally crappy Spy Gear toys that they make (which we actually bought more of today...argh). He also has a secret spy team that consists of his cousins but since they live so far away he never really gets to play. I knew he had been feeling a little down about his spying and then about 2 wks. ago he said rather glumly, "I don't think I will ever actually get to be a spy. I don't even know how you go to college for that."
So I knew this trip would be AMAZING for him. And it truly was. Here I will log the details of our mission. Read at your own risk. Password: I have nothing better to do than read this blog.
ACCESS GRANTED
We began our mission in the parking garage. I pulled into the garage, took my ticket and proceeded to drive around and look for a space. I was accosted by a parking attendant. I rolled down the window (b/c I was in my sister's car and it doesn't have automatic windows) and he tells me that I have to get out of the car so he can park it. I gave him my "are you kidding" me look and then tried to explain that I had absolutely nothing prepared to be able to get out of the car that quickly. He allowed me to pull over and gave me time to gather everything I needed to leave the car in a parking garage for the day and of course I was slightly frantic and talking to myself...money, license, tickets, child, keys...which was where he interrupted and said, "I will need your keys to park the car." And I think he may have been laughing a little bit at me. I'm not sure. At this point L. and I were very suspicious about at what point the spy mission actually began. Could this parking attendant be trusted? Could anyone named Fernando ever really be trusted?
We eventually made it to the museum and started our "Spy in the City" tour. They gave us our Geo-COBRA GPS units with ear buds and sent us out into the streets. Here we were, trying to read the clues and find the right streets, staring down at our units and completely engrossed when I realize that my precious child is about to walk out into 4 lanes of city traffic! Of course, he is also wearing the ear buds so he can hear the clues but not his mother yelling!
We ended up at the Roosevelt Memorial where we needed to decode a message that completely stupefied us. This is where we met up with another family from Kentucky consisting of a single mom and her 2 sons who also couldn't figure out the code and between the 5 of us we eventually made it to the next landmark. We spent the rest of the tour with them learning absolutely NOTHING about our nation's capital except for the fact that one of the 4 P's on Franklin's statue does NOT stand for "philanderer" but "philanthropist".
We spent the next several hours exploring the museum. One of my favorite moments was when I heard a mother rather heatedly exclaiming to her son, "I would make the worst spy because I have been looking everywhere and couldn't find you!"
The museum gift shop was appropriately outfitted with everything "spy" except for the cashiers who must have been double agents working for a competing company trying to steal profits because my bill was $45.70, I gave her a $50 and she gave me back 2 $20's and a $5. She started to help the next person in line when I had to interrupt her and almost force her to take back the money and give me the correct change. Then I had to give my son a moral object lesson about honesty. I have to admit that there was a second when I just wanted to pocket the extra cash but I closed my eyes and said my silent prayer of apology, "Sorry about that, Chief."
We were finally debriefed and sent home.
Mission complete.
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