Bad things happen to good people. By the same token, good things happen to bad people. This doesn't mean that the world is wholly unjust. Is it the luck of the draw? Perhaps, at times, it just may be. No one can control everything, no matter how much they try.
A soft spoken child trying to make friends at an age where everyone is a jerk is just a tragedy in slow motion. How do you teach a kid to reach out and make an effort when everything he does proves to him that other children can't always be trusted. To have a conversation that is innocent, overheard and taken as twisted facts is enough to make every single day be dreaded. How is there justice in three kids concocting a story and reporting it to the school "just to see what would happen", ending up with an innocent child being suspended from classes. No wonder he feels like he can't do anything right. I don't know how to fix it. Maybe it's just something that he needs to go through. Maybe the experience will make him stronger. Unfortunately, he hasn't had any positive ones yet.
There is nothing like seeing your kid, shy and brilliant, be broken down by a bunch savvy kids who don't know the meaning of respect, kids who undoubtedly grow to be brilliant con men, or lawyers. And in the middle of all of this, I get told off several times by the Principal because I had the nerve to ask questions. I also got told off for pointing out that the man didn't bother to speak to any of the kids that were actually sitting close to him, just the ones who came to the office with their stories of BS.
I know that no one is perfect, including my kids. However, I do know my child, and on his worst day this isn't him. Everyone they forced us to speak to before allowing his return to classes, had no concerns about him. Let me just say that there were no threats of violence to others, there were no weapons, there was nothing but a conversation that was innocent enough between my kid and another one. Then bits and pieces were screamed around the bus and a story put together that had nothing to do with anything. So, the kid gets sent home for talking to his friend. This doesn't help the fact that he's shy and barely talks to anyone on the bus as it is. After this, I wouldn't blame him if he never said another word on that bus.
I'm still trying to figure out the protocol to reprimand this Principal who, in refusing to answer my questions, led me to believe that it would be some time before the kid could return. Yet, the next day after being interviewed for two hours they said he could go back to class right then. Unfortunately, I did not bring any of his books because I was told it wasn't an option. This has resulted in an unexcused absence and missing grades for the day. All this, for talking to his friend.
Why can't people just mind their own business. I now realize why so many people around here have decided to home school their kids. I'm a hair's breadth away from that decision myself.
Tomorrow will be a better day. No school.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
That Darned Murphy
Okay, so life is ruled by the ever-present Murphy's Law. Who is this Murphy anyway, 'cause I'd sure like to give him a piece of my mind. There are only so many things that one can be prepared for. Trying to think of everything pretty much sucks the fun and spontaneity out of everything. I do a fairly good job of sucking the fun out of things on my own. I really don't need any help in that department. It's hard to be fun when you have a family that seems to be accident prone.
I have learned that if I go on a date with my Hubby, if I actually find a day that we are both free and someone is willing to stay with the kids, that is the day that I forget to wear deodorant or my hair looks like Cher's in 1989. Not the look or smell I would be going for. Every time I try to do something special or nice or just different, well, that is when this Murphy fella decides to show up and throw a wrench in the works. We make plans to go to the carnival, the house is overtaken by tummy trouble and duck squirts. We decide to hop in the car and go for a drive in the country and there is a monsoon before we get on the highway. I decide to make peanut brittle, and I make excellent peanut brittle. This time I bought the good melting chocolate and I was going to make chocolate covered peanut brittle. It isn't difficult to do, but it is a process. I get to the point where I'm almost ready to pour out this bubbling hot liquid that turns into this completely unhealthy yumminess and I step on the cat that was supposed to be outside and in that two seconds the peanuts catch the stuff on fire. Who knew that could even happen? Not me, that's for sure. So now, all that time standing and stirring and eyeballing, and pretending that my kids aren't tearing up the house while I'm in the kitchen, all that is wasted. The house is a wreck thanks to my human tornadoes. After all that, I have no chocolate covered anything. I have no melt in your mouth deliciousness to melt away the stress. No, Murphy killed my cooking high, (kind of like a runners high, but only shows up while concocting decadent creations in the kitchen).
Right now I would settle for chocolate creme Oreos, but I have none of those either. What I have is a can of pineapple and some whipped creme. That's just not going to cut it. So I will spend this evening nibbling on everything and satisfied by nothing. And in the morning I will wonder, once again, why I seem a bit wider than the night before.
I have learned that if I go on a date with my Hubby, if I actually find a day that we are both free and someone is willing to stay with the kids, that is the day that I forget to wear deodorant or my hair looks like Cher's in 1989. Not the look or smell I would be going for. Every time I try to do something special or nice or just different, well, that is when this Murphy fella decides to show up and throw a wrench in the works. We make plans to go to the carnival, the house is overtaken by tummy trouble and duck squirts. We decide to hop in the car and go for a drive in the country and there is a monsoon before we get on the highway. I decide to make peanut brittle, and I make excellent peanut brittle. This time I bought the good melting chocolate and I was going to make chocolate covered peanut brittle. It isn't difficult to do, but it is a process. I get to the point where I'm almost ready to pour out this bubbling hot liquid that turns into this completely unhealthy yumminess and I step on the cat that was supposed to be outside and in that two seconds the peanuts catch the stuff on fire. Who knew that could even happen? Not me, that's for sure. So now, all that time standing and stirring and eyeballing, and pretending that my kids aren't tearing up the house while I'm in the kitchen, all that is wasted. The house is a wreck thanks to my human tornadoes. After all that, I have no chocolate covered anything. I have no melt in your mouth deliciousness to melt away the stress. No, Murphy killed my cooking high, (kind of like a runners high, but only shows up while concocting decadent creations in the kitchen).
Right now I would settle for chocolate creme Oreos, but I have none of those either. What I have is a can of pineapple and some whipped creme. That's just not going to cut it. So I will spend this evening nibbling on everything and satisfied by nothing. And in the morning I will wonder, once again, why I seem a bit wider than the night before.
Hillbilly Hell
I'd like to think that I'm a modern woman. It is easy to meet people when they are everywhere you go. When your neighbors are fairly close by, you kind of have to know who they are, even if you never speak to them.
We moved to the middle of nowhere about six years ago. There are more farm animals than people here. The thought of having a decent size yard was appealing to me. People here wave to you driving down the street and they either ride ATV's or horses to tour the block. It was such a change from the regular suburbs that it was kind of exciting. Until, that is, reality set in. Y'see, growing up in a city, (well Ft. Lauderdale isn't a city like NY, but it still counts), people take things for granted...like the delivery of Chinese food. I can get used to everyone living behind large rusted gates. After all, I really can't be bothered going in search of my unseen neighbors. Lord knows I don't want these yahoos coming to find me. But messing with the food supply of the inherently lazy is just cruel.
I find myself living in a land where Wal-Mart is the only place to buy anything that isn't more than ten miles away, and where a half hour drive is "down the road a bit". There isn't any nightlife to speak of, unless of course you consider all the strip joints and porn shops that are on the main road nightlife. Not to worry, they start at just about that ten mile mark. I also never thought that bathing was an optional thing. Around here, and I was shocked at this, they don't send kids home for lice. They don't even bother to do lice checks. Apparently it is such a problem that once a quarter they send home a list of lice facts and to each his own. I guess that if they sent kids home for lice, then there wouldn't be that many left in school. All I can say is I'm glad I have boys. I've become so paranoid that I run a lice comb through their hair every other day. They've never had it, so I guess my anal tendencies are keeping them at bay.
We moved here for Hubby's job. While employment is a good thing, I didn't realize how much I enjoyed the company of others until there were no others to be found. We had one child at that point, and he hadn't started Kindergarten yet. I only left the house to run errands and I don't really talk to people in the grocery store. There really wasn't anyplace for me to go, because I had to find my way home, and I could barely do that from Publix. Anyway, I knew I was in trouble when I started to painfully miss my lovely yet mental family. I could barely stand them when they were easily accessible, but here in the boonies they seemed like a far off dream. Yes, a dream...to be able to have a normal conversation with people.
Meeting people here came slowly, and in doing so I uncovered a fact of which I had previously been unaware. I think I'm a little snobby. I never thought so. I still don't, at least not in the traditional sense of the word. But here in the land of the toothless, where I have to think before I speak. People have accused me of being uppity because I use "them jeopardy words". Now, I have to dumb things down on a regular basis just to be understood and not hated. Not that I care if these people hate me, but my kids have to live here too.
I've come to realize that common sense diminishes significantly with tooth loss. Let me tell you a story that had me closing the gate at my driveway just to deter my neighbors. A couple of months ago, while still very pregnant with my latest, a very dirty man (not in a good way) rode a four-wheeler through my front yard and pulled right up to my living room window. I know, who does that? He proceeded to knock on the window as if my door had been invisible. After asking me if I needed him to cut down any trees, he stuck his head in the window and stunk up the place while looking around. I swear he was casing the joint. He left only to return an hour later with a seven year old boy, who was equally dirty. After telling me how this kid's Mother was on drugs and he is slightly mentally deficient (only not so nicely and right in front of the boy), he asked my five year old if he wanted to go to his house to see his new pit bull puppies. Well, of course my son was all excited to want to see puppies. So, mortified, I made polite excuses. When I told him that I really needed to stay off my feet and would be unable to take the boys to see the puppies, this man, a total stranger, proceeded to stick half his body inside my window and grab my child to try to pull him out. I told the boys to go to their room. Then, I proceeded to tell this man, who at this point scared the crap out of me with his talk of 21 guns and a police record, that since they had not been behaving the boys were not allowed to go outside until their Father said they could. At that point, he yelled for the boys to come out and tried to tempt them with rides on the four-wheeler. After reminding this man that he had no helmets, and that he had been drinking (as he took a swig of the beer he brought with him) that it was not a good idea. It took me more than twenty minutes of my kids crying that they wanted to see the puppies and ride the ATV, to convince the man that I was their mother and they weren't going.
Now, it would have been easy enough to say "No Thank You" and be done with it, but toothless and stinky was on a mission to grab my kids and go. HOLY CRAP!!!
The next evening he stopped by after Hubby arrived home. Well, I've never been so happy to be married to such a huge guy. He's 6'4" and 320lbs. He not so politely told this guy that he is not to try to solicit work here, and that under no circumstances is he to approach our kids. When we're outside or if we run into each other that's one thing, but due to my "condition" I am to be left alone, and under no circumstances is he ever to touch our children. Then we locked the gate for a week.
Well, the one neighbor I know pretty well thought it was the funniest thing, weird, but funny. WTF. Sorry, but how on Earth is it ever funny to practically have your child dragged out the window right in front of you. Well, apparently this guy who lives somewhere around the corner and down the street, is supposedly really nice. He's supposed to love kids (I'm sure he does) and is always having parties and is a real people person. All I know is he doesn't know me and sure as heck has no business trying to lure my kids out without my permission. That was unbelievably scary. But around here everyone is apparently one big happy family and ours is the only house that isn't like that. I hope I never am.
I thought he was going to take his drunken self home and load up his arsenal and start shooting at random. Why else would he tell a complete stranger about all of his guns an stints in prison. We never did have a problem with him after that. Come to find out, this guy's kind of sappy and couldn't understand why the kids couldn't come over and play with the puppies and the little boy he takes care of. If he hadn't tried to snatch my kid, perhaps we would have made it over there after Hubby had gotten home (I wasn't going anywhere all pregnant and sick).
So I live amongst weirdos and I'm the freak because I practice good personal hygiene. Really, I don't mind being that kind of freak. Now if only people I don't ever want to know would stop telling me their personal business, I'd be good.
We moved to the middle of nowhere about six years ago. There are more farm animals than people here. The thought of having a decent size yard was appealing to me. People here wave to you driving down the street and they either ride ATV's or horses to tour the block. It was such a change from the regular suburbs that it was kind of exciting. Until, that is, reality set in. Y'see, growing up in a city, (well Ft. Lauderdale isn't a city like NY, but it still counts), people take things for granted...like the delivery of Chinese food. I can get used to everyone living behind large rusted gates. After all, I really can't be bothered going in search of my unseen neighbors. Lord knows I don't want these yahoos coming to find me. But messing with the food supply of the inherently lazy is just cruel.
I find myself living in a land where Wal-Mart is the only place to buy anything that isn't more than ten miles away, and where a half hour drive is "down the road a bit". There isn't any nightlife to speak of, unless of course you consider all the strip joints and porn shops that are on the main road nightlife. Not to worry, they start at just about that ten mile mark. I also never thought that bathing was an optional thing. Around here, and I was shocked at this, they don't send kids home for lice. They don't even bother to do lice checks. Apparently it is such a problem that once a quarter they send home a list of lice facts and to each his own. I guess that if they sent kids home for lice, then there wouldn't be that many left in school. All I can say is I'm glad I have boys. I've become so paranoid that I run a lice comb through their hair every other day. They've never had it, so I guess my anal tendencies are keeping them at bay.
We moved here for Hubby's job. While employment is a good thing, I didn't realize how much I enjoyed the company of others until there were no others to be found. We had one child at that point, and he hadn't started Kindergarten yet. I only left the house to run errands and I don't really talk to people in the grocery store. There really wasn't anyplace for me to go, because I had to find my way home, and I could barely do that from Publix. Anyway, I knew I was in trouble when I started to painfully miss my lovely yet mental family. I could barely stand them when they were easily accessible, but here in the boonies they seemed like a far off dream. Yes, a dream...to be able to have a normal conversation with people.
Meeting people here came slowly, and in doing so I uncovered a fact of which I had previously been unaware. I think I'm a little snobby. I never thought so. I still don't, at least not in the traditional sense of the word. But here in the land of the toothless, where I have to think before I speak. People have accused me of being uppity because I use "them jeopardy words". Now, I have to dumb things down on a regular basis just to be understood and not hated. Not that I care if these people hate me, but my kids have to live here too.
I've come to realize that common sense diminishes significantly with tooth loss. Let me tell you a story that had me closing the gate at my driveway just to deter my neighbors. A couple of months ago, while still very pregnant with my latest, a very dirty man (not in a good way) rode a four-wheeler through my front yard and pulled right up to my living room window. I know, who does that? He proceeded to knock on the window as if my door had been invisible. After asking me if I needed him to cut down any trees, he stuck his head in the window and stunk up the place while looking around. I swear he was casing the joint. He left only to return an hour later with a seven year old boy, who was equally dirty. After telling me how this kid's Mother was on drugs and he is slightly mentally deficient (only not so nicely and right in front of the boy), he asked my five year old if he wanted to go to his house to see his new pit bull puppies. Well, of course my son was all excited to want to see puppies. So, mortified, I made polite excuses. When I told him that I really needed to stay off my feet and would be unable to take the boys to see the puppies, this man, a total stranger, proceeded to stick half his body inside my window and grab my child to try to pull him out. I told the boys to go to their room. Then, I proceeded to tell this man, who at this point scared the crap out of me with his talk of 21 guns and a police record, that since they had not been behaving the boys were not allowed to go outside until their Father said they could. At that point, he yelled for the boys to come out and tried to tempt them with rides on the four-wheeler. After reminding this man that he had no helmets, and that he had been drinking (as he took a swig of the beer he brought with him) that it was not a good idea. It took me more than twenty minutes of my kids crying that they wanted to see the puppies and ride the ATV, to convince the man that I was their mother and they weren't going.
Now, it would have been easy enough to say "No Thank You" and be done with it, but toothless and stinky was on a mission to grab my kids and go. HOLY CRAP!!!
The next evening he stopped by after Hubby arrived home. Well, I've never been so happy to be married to such a huge guy. He's 6'4" and 320lbs. He not so politely told this guy that he is not to try to solicit work here, and that under no circumstances is he to approach our kids. When we're outside or if we run into each other that's one thing, but due to my "condition" I am to be left alone, and under no circumstances is he ever to touch our children. Then we locked the gate for a week.
Well, the one neighbor I know pretty well thought it was the funniest thing, weird, but funny. WTF. Sorry, but how on Earth is it ever funny to practically have your child dragged out the window right in front of you. Well, apparently this guy who lives somewhere around the corner and down the street, is supposedly really nice. He's supposed to love kids (I'm sure he does) and is always having parties and is a real people person. All I know is he doesn't know me and sure as heck has no business trying to lure my kids out without my permission. That was unbelievably scary. But around here everyone is apparently one big happy family and ours is the only house that isn't like that. I hope I never am.
I thought he was going to take his drunken self home and load up his arsenal and start shooting at random. Why else would he tell a complete stranger about all of his guns an stints in prison. We never did have a problem with him after that. Come to find out, this guy's kind of sappy and couldn't understand why the kids couldn't come over and play with the puppies and the little boy he takes care of. If he hadn't tried to snatch my kid, perhaps we would have made it over there after Hubby had gotten home (I wasn't going anywhere all pregnant and sick).
So I live amongst weirdos and I'm the freak because I practice good personal hygiene. Really, I don't mind being that kind of freak. Now if only people I don't ever want to know would stop telling me their personal business, I'd be good.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Modern Education
Well today was interesting. I suppose everyday is at some point. I have four boys ranging in age from 11 years to 6 weeks. Not to bore you with a million stories of humor, frustration, and love, but today, as I said, was interesting. The oldest started middle school this year. He is shy and the team of teachers has requested a conference already. Not looking forward to it at all. Anyway, he was bitten by ants while feeding the chickens. (Yes, we have chickens, but that's another story). Apparently, in class, he scratched and one started bleeding. Not having any tissues with him and not wanting to get up with blood dripping down his leg, he tried using a piece of notebook paper to sop it up unnoticed. Well, apparently they think he's a sociopath.
The boy is eleven and eleven is gross. For those who do not have the privilege of watching boys this age grow up, this is when their future perverted tendencies start to awaken. For example: while going over math homework he asked me to spell "Associative" for one of the properties of multiplication. After the first three letters he couldn't stop giggling. My boy is in full-on Beavis and Butthead mode. Yup, I'm so proud. Anyway, back to the story. I received an email while my son was actually in the class. The teacher seemed disgusted and mortified that he would do such a thing. Did I mention the kid is eleven years old. Oh, and now she is extremely worried about him since he seemed so fascinated with his blood issue. Again, eleven. Anyway, I assured her that I would send him to school in long pants, even though it's about 100 degrees this time of year, and if he did wear shorts that I would make sure he wore a band-aid and brought extras just in case. What, they couldn't send him to the clinic for a band-aid or better yet pull one out of the first aid kit that each classroom is required to have?
The fact that teachers are now taking class time to email parents about nothing relevant is beyond me. I can see if he was disrupting the entire class or being rude and disrespectful. I can understand the teacher wanting to make an example of that. But to contact me for needing a band-aid. Give me a break! Now I get to go and speak to all 6 of his teachers and the guidance counselor and I will be sure to mention how ridiculous this whole thing is. It's not like he smothered his hands in blood and was chasing people around the classroom. The kid was trying not to call attention to himself. He was surprised that it bled that much and really didn't want anyone to notice. Now, he's mortified and swears that his teacher thinks he's a freak. Do teachers not have anything better to do nowadays? I could have sworn that teaching was not only sticking to the curriculum, but also engaging young minds and encouraging them in all ways positive. So, tell me, how does public humiliation to the point of giving a shy kid a stigma qualify as motivation?
With all this stupidity, it's a wonder that more people don't drop out before graduation. Who wants to go to school to be treated like a degenerate. I wouldn't want to be there either. I feel bad for all the kids that have this lady. There are kids out there much worse than mine, kids that are defiant and nasty, disgusting on all levels and downright repulsive in both behavior and hygiene. With all that to write home about, I wonder where she'll find time to pretend to teach these kids. Boy, that conference will be something else.
The boy is eleven and eleven is gross. For those who do not have the privilege of watching boys this age grow up, this is when their future perverted tendencies start to awaken. For example: while going over math homework he asked me to spell "Associative" for one of the properties of multiplication. After the first three letters he couldn't stop giggling. My boy is in full-on Beavis and Butthead mode. Yup, I'm so proud. Anyway, back to the story. I received an email while my son was actually in the class. The teacher seemed disgusted and mortified that he would do such a thing. Did I mention the kid is eleven years old. Oh, and now she is extremely worried about him since he seemed so fascinated with his blood issue. Again, eleven. Anyway, I assured her that I would send him to school in long pants, even though it's about 100 degrees this time of year, and if he did wear shorts that I would make sure he wore a band-aid and brought extras just in case. What, they couldn't send him to the clinic for a band-aid or better yet pull one out of the first aid kit that each classroom is required to have?
The fact that teachers are now taking class time to email parents about nothing relevant is beyond me. I can see if he was disrupting the entire class or being rude and disrespectful. I can understand the teacher wanting to make an example of that. But to contact me for needing a band-aid. Give me a break! Now I get to go and speak to all 6 of his teachers and the guidance counselor and I will be sure to mention how ridiculous this whole thing is. It's not like he smothered his hands in blood and was chasing people around the classroom. The kid was trying not to call attention to himself. He was surprised that it bled that much and really didn't want anyone to notice. Now, he's mortified and swears that his teacher thinks he's a freak. Do teachers not have anything better to do nowadays? I could have sworn that teaching was not only sticking to the curriculum, but also engaging young minds and encouraging them in all ways positive. So, tell me, how does public humiliation to the point of giving a shy kid a stigma qualify as motivation?
With all this stupidity, it's a wonder that more people don't drop out before graduation. Who wants to go to school to be treated like a degenerate. I wouldn't want to be there either. I feel bad for all the kids that have this lady. There are kids out there much worse than mine, kids that are defiant and nasty, disgusting on all levels and downright repulsive in both behavior and hygiene. With all that to write home about, I wonder where she'll find time to pretend to teach these kids. Boy, that conference will be something else.
Morning Rant
8:00 a.m. and the sun is just starting to warm up. The kids are getting off to school and they day looks great through groggy eyes. As I get to the bus stop with my 5yr old, I can hear one of the Moms on the phone. She is sitting in her truck across the street, yet I can...let me rephrase...we all can hear her yelling at someone who is apparently having a crappy morning. Now, I know that we need to take care of business when it needs to be taken care of. As long as I'm not trying to watch a movie, or have a conversation with one of the parties, cell phone calls don't really bother me. Until now that is.
My kid got quite an ear full. This lady, who may be my neighbor but we are not neighborly, was cursing someone out something awful. We now know that her daughter and four friends were arrested last month. Everyone is out, with the exception of her daughter. Now she is convinced that there is a conspiracy to use the released teens as bait and blah, blah, blah. Then as she walked her very own 5yr old to get on the bus, she put her hand over the receiver and very politely told me good morning.
My question, one of them anyway, is why was it alright in her mind for all of us to hear her personal and vulgar business, but it was not okay for someone else to hear her moment of politeness? Did she think that no one could hear her? I know I wish we couldn't. I had to keep whispering in my kid's ear, "You don't say that, it's not nice". Look, walking to the bus stop is more than enough exercise in the morning. Having to bend over every two seconds to reach the kid's ear just irritated the piss out of me. (Yeah, I know. I'm such a lady myself). I'm not saying I've never used foul language. I have and do, but not in front of a group of little kids. Maybe letting the world know that your kid was involved in driving a truck through a store window and grabbing a bunch of junk food because they were all high and hand the munchies isn't the best way to get to know your neighbors.
My kid got quite an ear full. This lady, who may be my neighbor but we are not neighborly, was cursing someone out something awful. We now know that her daughter and four friends were arrested last month. Everyone is out, with the exception of her daughter. Now she is convinced that there is a conspiracy to use the released teens as bait and blah, blah, blah. Then as she walked her very own 5yr old to get on the bus, she put her hand over the receiver and very politely told me good morning.
My question, one of them anyway, is why was it alright in her mind for all of us to hear her personal and vulgar business, but it was not okay for someone else to hear her moment of politeness? Did she think that no one could hear her? I know I wish we couldn't. I had to keep whispering in my kid's ear, "You don't say that, it's not nice". Look, walking to the bus stop is more than enough exercise in the morning. Having to bend over every two seconds to reach the kid's ear just irritated the piss out of me. (Yeah, I know. I'm such a lady myself). I'm not saying I've never used foul language. I have and do, but not in front of a group of little kids. Maybe letting the world know that your kid was involved in driving a truck through a store window and grabbing a bunch of junk food because they were all high and hand the munchies isn't the best way to get to know your neighbors.
Lost Summer
Looking out the window, I see the four enormous boxes (and a slide) that once represented the hope of a happy and carefree Summer. They are now covered in a layer of dust befitting an Egyptian tomb. I can't help but wonder if we will ever get this ridiculous playground up now that Summer is over. Of course, we've had this thing since April. Though life takes us in different directions and throws all kinds of interesting things in our path, it has been five months and about $2000 wasted dollars. I'm sure it will be well worth it if this ever gets erected.
As of now, the boxes are stacked up on the back porch next to the steps. They are dirty and unsightly. Visions of all we could have done with that money keep flashing in my head. They dance around my head, teasing me with all that could have been. At least it is hot here until December. This means that some fun can still be salvaged before I'm forced to sit in the frigid air of a February morning watching my little frozen tater tots trying to enjoy their new toy. Hubby will probably try to pawn this off as a Christmas present, thus putting it off until December.
I should start harping on him about it. Then again, I've been harping on him to build me a little garden box that we already have the supplies for. Yup, it's been six years and counting. Perhaps, I'll let this one sit a little longer until the kids remember what's in the boxes. Maybe they can guilt him into getting it done. I'm just tired of looking at the decaying boxes of possibilities.
As of now, the boxes are stacked up on the back porch next to the steps. They are dirty and unsightly. Visions of all we could have done with that money keep flashing in my head. They dance around my head, teasing me with all that could have been. At least it is hot here until December. This means that some fun can still be salvaged before I'm forced to sit in the frigid air of a February morning watching my little frozen tater tots trying to enjoy their new toy. Hubby will probably try to pawn this off as a Christmas present, thus putting it off until December.
I should start harping on him about it. Then again, I've been harping on him to build me a little garden box that we already have the supplies for. Yup, it's been six years and counting. Perhaps, I'll let this one sit a little longer until the kids remember what's in the boxes. Maybe they can guilt him into getting it done. I'm just tired of looking at the decaying boxes of possibilities.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Non-Friends Cyber Search
I received a message on one of the many popular networking sites. It was someone I'd known since high school, but hadn't spoken to in about 5yrs. Admittedly, I was thrilled to hear from her and am awaiting her return email. However, this got me thinking. I won't join facebook, though my friends are quite persistent. The thought of hundreds of people that I knew in another life, however briefly, looking me up, makes my skin crawl. It isn't that someone would want to contact me as much as it is the fact that out of niceness, I would actually have to respond, thus allowing them access to blurbs that are none of their concern. Though no one is here to twist my arm, I'm just polite that way I guess.
Unfortunately, it has been my experience that if you barely spoke with someone in high school, you're not going to want to be bothered almost 20yrs later. (oops, I just aged myself). Anyway, it is just that I would probably be inundated by all the undesireables. Okay, that sounds bad. It's not like I was hot or popular, but if we weren't friends then and our lives don't cross paths now, then I'm not concerned about trying to drag someone kicking and screaming into a faux relationship based on a non-friendship over a decade ago forged in cyberspace. If I don't know you, then I don't expect you to act like you know me. I'm not against new friendships, or 2nd chances. But I have my limits. This would be why, I prefer anonymity.
This sounds so negative. It really isn't. People lose touch with loved ones and friends all the time. Whether separated by time, bad blood, distance or circumstance. If there was the hint of significance to the relationship, I'm all for contact. Getting reacquainted with people is a wonderful thing. The internet eases that journey. It's just that, usually, people that want to reacquaint themselves with me are people that I was never acquainted with or ones that try to get me to believe that we knew each other once, but no. Who can be bothered with all that, which comes with feelings that are generally easily stepped on, and I don't want to be that person. If someone goes out of their way to find me, then I feel obligated to hear them out. But in the end, nothing in common is nothing in common and I have too much to think about to be worried about hurting the feelings of someone I was never friends with.
With that said, I can't wait to hear back from my friend. The hypocrisy here isn't lost on me.
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