Please go visit my other blog.
My better blog.
What was I thinking?
Two blogs?
www.ponderingparenting.blogspot.com
Please go visit my other blog.
My better blog.
What was I thinking?
Two blogs?
www.ponderingparenting.blogspot.com
Say you’re at a friend’s house. Like I was recently.
And say you left all of your own toiletry items at home. (Which I did not entirely do.)
What’s okay to borrow and what’s off limits? Where do you draw the line between acceptable and uncool? What could make you lose your Welcomed Guest status?
I mean, borrowing shampoo and conditioner seems just fine. Shoot, I usually encourage people to borrow my shampoo because it’s an ultra soothing scent of lavender that I like to introduce to my friends.
I guess using their soap or body wash in alright – but you should use your own loofah. Sharing a loofah with anyone besides your spouse seems …. um …. well, almost too intimate.
And what about that razor? That seems like a definite line not to cross.
At the sink it seems pretty obvious – share all the toothpaste you would like, but don’t touch someone else’s toothbrush. Not even your husband’s.
What else is taboo in the tub?
Still, too much Disney pop at my house.
Today it was a Jonas Brothers song. Arghhh.
At least this song made me laugh out loud. Well, London’s version of the song did, anyway.
I think the original says something to the effect of “when you look me in the eye and tell me that you love me ….” But the new and, might I add, much improved, version of the song, according to London, goes a little something like this . . . “When you poke me in the eye ….”
Much better.
Through no choice of my own, lately I find myself being overexposed to poorly written and even more poorly delivered music.
I have a fifteen year old daughter who, despite my husband’s heroic attempts, has been unable to keep herself pure from the machine that is Disney music.
And there’s this one ultra popular, ultra sell-out “musician” that I find particularly annoying. Her face is on purple t-shirts at every Wal-Mart in America.
Nothing about Miley Cyrus seems genuine. Even her makeshift name. I hope she enjoys the ride now because I don’t think she will find it carrying her through the long haul.
In one of her sound-alike drivels, she screams, “I wish you could see . . . I might really be a rock star” over and over again.
Methinks the lady doth protest too much.
A funny mode of transportation is the rickshaw.
What is its sales pitch?
Hey, let me pull you through this town at a rate only slightly faster than you could walk it yourself.
I like to be “green”, “environmentally friendly”, “sustainable” and lots of other buzz words that you hear constantly lately.
But I don’t think it always makes sense.
I have been watching the Planet Green network and am particularly fond of a little show called “Living With Ed”. (I think Kevin and I are related to the guy in a round about way actually.)
At any rate, a couple featured on the program wanted to remodel their master bedroom. They wanted sustainable flooring. After much deliberation, the couple chose bamboo flooring. I understand the benefits of bamboo flooring. I think it’s great. But this couple put the bamboo flooring over top of their existing wood flooring. (The existing floor looked great anyway but could have been changed up with paint or stain as well.)
Doesn’t that defeat the purpose? Isn’t that actually the opposite of being green? Isn’t that wasting resources? Remember the three R’s that Jack Johnson sings about? Reduce, reuse and recycle?
I just wish people preaching the green theology would look to the obvious. It isn’t really helpful to remodel everything.
Sometimes the really environmentally friendly thing to do is to leave something the way it is.
Some things receive the title of gross on their own merit. Snot. Excrement. Ear wax. Bird poop – I guess that falls under excrement though.
And some things are only considered gross when placed out of their proper context. Like these . . .
Q-tips. Fine inside the cabinet. Gross discovered randomly outside or on the kitchen floor.
Band-aids. Covering an injury – perfectly acceptable. Wet and mutilated on the floor of the shower – gross beyond measure.
Food. This is sustaining stuff in its proper place. Not so appetizing caught up with all the refuse in the kitchen sink’s drainer.
Hair. On one’s head – lovely. Tangled in a knotty ball in the dryer – less than lovely.
What else seems fine until discovered in an unexpected place?
Today the phone rang.
The Caller ID stated “Assurance Call”.
I needed that.
So I answered the phone.
It was an insurance guy – not assurance.
Silly Caller ID.
Why are there six pockets on my son’s shorts?
Six pockets.
A number higher than the number of his appendages.
And he is five weeks old.
Many months ago – like, maybe six or something – a little restaurant opened at a college located very near our home. We drove by this restaurant – Einstein Bros. Bagels- at least twice a week, often more, always saying that one day we would try them out.
Today was that day. Kevin came home for lunch so we headed over there to see what was what. We discovered four things.
One, it is ridiculously close to our home – as in, less than ten minutes. And when you live where we live, that is ridiculously close.
Two, they have amazing little sandwiches and way more to offer than bagels, as their name may, at first glance, imply.
Three, they have delicious danish/muffin options. (And to think I had been wasting my pregnancy cravings on cheap prepackaged honey buns at the gas station near this restaurant. Urghhh.)
Four, they have incredible customer service. Really.
We placed a big order. (We have a lot of kids – okay?) We chatted a lot with the lovely lady behind the counter – Kevin is a chatter and we were a little giddy at our pleasant surprise. We mentioned where Kevin worked and the number of children living at our house. We carried our food home only to discover that Riley’s turkey sandwich was nowhere to be found. Because the sandwich was $6.00 (that is crazy, I know) we decided we would actually call Einstein’s. They said we could just have a store credit if we didn’t feel like driving back – and we didn’t feel like driving back.
However, instead of letting the mistake go at that, the lovely lady got in her car, drove all the way to Look Up and hand-delivered the delayed sandwich herself, throwing in five cookies to boot! Now that’s going the extra mile. That is how good business is done.
And what did her extra efforts earn that little company? Well, besides a post on my blog? Some loyal customers who will gladly sing their praises!
Genius, Einstein. Genius.