My (totally random) inheritance

Today I learned that on Saturday I'm inheriting a bed, a table, and a dog.

The dog is a temporary foster placement and will likely be here for several weeks. I come by my propensity for doggie and kitty foster parenting very honestly. My family has a history of taking in wayward animals...on my count we inherited no fewer than 9 cats and 5 dogs throughout my childhood and adolescence (not all at once!). I'm pretty sure that only one cat and one dog were actually purchased, and all the others came to us from off the streets or were brought to us by people who knew we would care for them. Spitter was supposed to be a temporary foster, but I ended up keeping her because we bonded so strongly; Bootsie actually kind of adopted me (as in, she showed up one night and never left).

This new doggie, Shadow, will be my first foster pup since moving into my little house. He is coming to me by way of my dear friend Karen, whose son (Shadow's owner) travels for weeks at a time for his job and can't always give Shadow the time and attention he needs. Karen is in her sixties-ish, still works full time and can't care for the dog herself, so she asked me today if I would be willing to take him until her son gets back or a new a permanent new home is found. I said yes (obviously).
Spitter and Bootsie are very territorial and are going to flip their freakin' lids over the presence of a dog, so I'm going to make sure that Shadow is 100% cat friendly before I let them socialize. This is going to be an adventure, I'm sure!

As for the bed, I currently have a queen-sized bed, which is slightly too big for my bedroom (I have maybe 2 feet of space left to move around in). As luck would have it, Karen happens to have a twin bed that's currently gathering dust in her garage. She not only offered to include the bed in Saturday's doggie delivery, she asked me what else I needed and tried to get me to take a desk! I love her, haha. I doubt Spitter or Bootsie will miss having the extra space of the queen, since their preferred sleeping arrangement involves taking up as much of my personal space as possible. Now I just have to figure out how to dismantle the metal bedframe of the queen.

Karen is not providing the table, but I'm sure if she had one she'd try to convince me to take it, too! The table is originally from Ikea, but I'm getting it for more than half-off on Craigslist. Woo hoo!

 I'm picking up the table at 1pm, the bed and dog are expected to arrive around 4pm. What a day that's going to be!

Falling out of summer!

Happy September 1st!!!

To me, September heralds the giddy anticipation of good things to come as we begin to approach the end of the year:

*Cooler temperatures as we finally begin the downward slope out of summer!
*The first day of fall (September 22)
*The traditional joint-celebration for my and my mom's birthdays (which are 8 days apart)
*Heaps of Thanksgiving mashed potatoes
*My younger brother's birthday
*The first day of winter (December 21)
*24/7 Christmas music (everything having to do with the Christmas season, really).

I wish I could add the impending beauty of colorful autumn foliage and Winter Wonderlands to my list, but I have to drive 2 hours north if I want those. You can bet I'll be making that trip, hopefully a handful of times!

Happy Start of the Best Part of the Year!!!

Not Just Spring Cleaning

Since moving into my little house in February (I'm renting from some friends who live out of state), I have rearranged my main room several times...I'd say at least once a month. I'm talking entire pieces of furniture moved to different walls, and I did it all myself (well, except when my front door had to come off to get my "new" (used) couch inside...I had some manpower help for that haha).

I don't have any pictures to post, because I keep changing stuff around, but once I achieve the feng shui I'm looking for I'll reveal the final product. I haven't let anyone except family see my little house, because it's become very important to me that my house have the right  feel before I start inviting people over. I don't really know when that started, because when I first moved in I was really excited to have a housewarming party. I suppose it's because I moved in the middle of my last semester of grad school, and I was too busy to focus on putting my house together for the first 3 months I lived in it. Furniture was just kind of placed willy-nilly or in a "temporary location," and then every surface was quickly overtaken by textbooks, notebooks, papers, and writing utensils.

When I graduated in May, I took a good look at my living space and was flabbergasted to see how disorganized everything was, and how un-home-like it felt as a result. Now, I'm not a particularly organized person as it is (I can't keep my car or my room clean to save my life!), but I am a master at maintaining "organized chaos." Things may not always be where they "should be," but I always usually know where things are. In fact, well-meaning people (mom) who try to put things "where they belong" frustrate me to no end, because then I can't find anything because it's not where I put it!

But there's a fine line beteween manageable disorganization and total chaos, and for several months I teetered over the edge of the latter. Over the last several weeks, however, I have reached more of a middle ground, and I'm working my way toward the more liveable side of the line.

Once I've regained control of all the furniture that's already in my house (most of which are hand-me-downs from the house I grew up in), I'm super excited to start adding little touches that reflect my own personality and style. I browse and window shop all the time, and I've got my eye on items I found in Pier 1, Home Goods, Cost Plus World Market, and even Changing Hands bookstore in Tempe (along with the great selection of books, the store has lots of decorative knick-knacky things that I absolutely swooned over when I was there last week).

The style I'll be going for is "country cottage chic"...I've always said that I'm a big city girl with a small town heart, and my impending interior-decorating project is certain to reflect that!

"Meowy Christmas!"

From Meryl, Spitter, and Bootsie

Stop monkey-ing around

The other day I was talking with my dear friend Kelly, and she mentioned something about not always enjoying talking to grown-ups.

I responded with, "we are grown-ups, darlin'."

Kelly's retort was a Golden Truth: "Well, it sure doesn't feel like it."

From there we launched into a conversation about my impending "quarter-of-a-century life crisis" birthday. My 25th. Which is in September.

Kelly and I have been friends for 13 years. We were mischievous, dorky sixth graders together...and when we hang out nowadays it's hard not to forget that we're that much older. Because we don't feel all that much wiser.

 

Weary, sure. But wise? You tell me:

I didn't think so, haha.

Kelly has a fancy-pants job at a nice hotel. I'm about to start graduate school so I can add a few fancy-pants letters to the end of my professional job title.

In sixth grade Kelly and I frequently ditched class in the afternoon in favor of doing flips off the monkey bars or mentoring the K-1-2 kids a few corridors down. I worked hard on my homework, but I played harder.

These days I'm working so hard to keep up with everything, I have hardly any time to play at all. I know that any "monkey" business in the MSW program will get me "terminated" from the program (as they say over there).

I know what you're going to say: "it's all part of being a grown-up."

Ok, fine. So then when am I going to start feeling like this grown up I have supposedly become?
Tell me, those of you who have been doing this "grown up" thing longer than I have...did you feel this way when you were my age? Do you still feel this way?

Do we ever really "grow up," or do we just learn to exhibit "business hours behavior" until the bell rings (or the clock chimes) and "happy hour" begins?

 

Ugh. It's tiring, trying to to navigate my way through the Land of Being a Grown-Up. I don't feel remotely ready to be making this journey. But here I am. Here we all are, or must eventually be.

One of the hardest adjustments I've had to make since arriving in the Land of Being a Grown-Up is convincing my night-owl personality to spend a decent amount of time in the distant Land of Nod.
Recently my dad and I discussed this unpromising proposition:

Dad: "So no sleeping in tomorrow?" (referring to the fact that this is the week I've had to start being downtown by 8am)
Me: "No, I don't think I'll be sleeping in for-"
Dad: "The rest of your life?"
Me: "-the rest of my life. Yeah."

I guess the only bell I can look forward to hearing for the next 40 years is the one on my alarm clock!

That is, until the bell chimes at the end of the work day, and all the monkeys come out of the barrel (or out of the desk chair) ready to play!

"That is whack!"

If you think about it, we live in a pretty backwards society. We seem to have forgotten what's truly important. I did some research on annual salaries, and what I discovered astounded and appalled me:

Teacher: $40,000

What they do: Act as academic, social, and emotional mentors. Encourage learning.

NFL athletic coach: $85,000

What they do: Induce unhealthy competitiveness. Create sore losers.

Can someone please explain to me why the ability to kick a football is valued as more than twice as important as the acquisition of knowledge???

This one really gets me...

Social worker: $55,000

What they do: Provide social and emotional support. Act as advocates for the well-being of others.

"Reality TV" stars (Real Housewives, specifically): $1,500,000

What they do: Pick fights and act catty. Gossip and lie about others.

Those frickin' rich bitches are paid nearly THIRTY times more to behave badly towards others than I will be to help improve the quality of life for countless clients?? Excuse me?????

There is something so wrong with these numbers!!!!!

A Fairy Tale: The Not-So Classic version!

Once upon a time, there was a dog named Thor.

Thor likes to explore. One day, he decided that my bedroom would be a fun place for an adventure.

Thor came lolloping down the hallway, ready for some fun.

But when he got to my doorway, he paused.


What caused Thor to hesitate?
(can you see her? Look carefully!)

There was a TROLL under the BRIDGE!! ... I mean, a CAT under my BED!


Spitter: "Who's that galloping down the hallway? Why are you standing in my doorway?"

Thor: "I'm coming in to sniff around because I've never been in here before!"

 

Spitter: "Oh no you're not! Not until you pay the TROLL!...I mean the TOLL!"

Unfortunately, Thor didn't have any money... (or catnip)...

So he went somewhere Spitter never gets to go!

OUTSIDE!!!


Leaving Spitter inside with all her hard-earned troll (I mean toll) money.


"And they both lived (separately) happily ever after!"

THE END

Why Blondes and Cars Don't Mix...

Today I had my first experience with AAA. I had to call them because I had a flat tire. What happened? I drove over a nail. Where was I when I got the flat? I'm not sure. I was at home, with my car parked safely in the driveway, when I noticed that my rear driver wheel was slowly deflating.

Since my upper-body strength is nonexistent, I recruited my dad to "help me" (aka take over completely) remove the faulty wheel. But the bolts were on really tight, so my dad couldn't get them unscrewed. He was really frustrated. He blamed it on those groovy guns mechanics use to get those bolts super-sealed.

"Well," he said, grimacing at me. "Call AAA."
"For a flat tire?" I said (stupid question, I know!)
"Well, yeah. What else are you gonna do? We're not going to get the tire off ourselves."

So I found my AAA card...only to discover that it had expired in February. After a frenzied phone call to my mom (she's in charge of AAA stuff and currently out of town), I called AAA and renewed our membership:

(after the renewal process was complete)
Sally: "Is there anything else I can help you with?"
Me: "I just need to know, is the renewal effective immediately?"
Sally: "It's in effect as we speak. Are you in need of assistance?"
Me: "Yes, actually."

Sally transferred me to Services, where Will lead me through the standard questions to figure out my situation. This was my favorite part of the exchange:

Will: "Are you in a safe location away from further harm?"
Me: "Yes, I'm at home."
Will: "Alright, your car is parked in the garage?"
Me: "Not exactly."
Will: "So it's out on the street?"
Me: "Well, no. It's in the driveway. We have a carport."
Will: "I see...but it's somewhere where we can send a guy out to fix it?"
Me: "Yes." (finally, a simple question and answer!)

The guy who came to wrestle with my tire brought a fancy carjack that made my puny one look like a piece of scrap metal. When he was finished, I threw the bum tire in my trunk and zipped off to the Honda dealership. When I got there I told the guy:

Me: "I've got a tire with a nail in it in the back."
Guy: "Is it the rear passenger?"
Me: "No, the driver's side."

About 20 minutes later, a different guy retrieved me from the waiting room...

Guy 2: "We looked at your back wheels, but couldn't find a nail anywhere. The tire looks fine."
Me: "No, no, the bad tire is in my trunk. I couldn't drive here on it."
Guy: (looks confused, checks his written report) "That's not what the guy up front said. He didn't mention that. He just said it was the tire on the driver's side in the back."
Me: "Oh, no. I did say that to him, but when I said 'back' I meant 'trunk.' I'm sorry for the miscommunication."

Guy 2 was really nice about the whole thing. I'm sure he was thinking: Just another blonde chick, living up to her reputation as a moron.As for me, I was thinking, You are such a toe-headed bonehead! No wonder there are so many not-nice Blonde Jokes!

And that is why cars and blondes (this blonde, anyway) are a problematic combination!

"Top o' the mornin' to ye!"

In the United States, we are notorious for our over-indulgence habit. We frequently look for excuses to consume excess amounts of food and drink, guilt-free.

Our biggest excuse? Holidays.

I've already lamented the sugary spectacle that Valentine's Day has become.
Next up: St. Patrick's Day.
Barely a month after an excess of candy hearts and chocolate, we have beer. Lots and lots of beer. Frequently the beverage will be dyed green, the color associated with with the Ireland-originated celebration.

Speaking of origins, I decided to find out exactly what green beer has to do with St. Patrick. So, again out of curiosity, I researched the origin of the mid-March holiday.

Turns out, beer and St. Patrick are as compatible as St. Valentine and chocolate.
Which is, to say, not at all.
According to one account of the legend:

"...as it happened, a certain 16-year-old Welsh lad [named Maewyn] was kidnapped by [a band of] Irish marauders, and during the six years Maewyn spent in servitude as a shepherd in Ireland he experienced a religious awakening, then spent years studying in a monastery. He took on a new name, Patrick, and a new calling — converting his countrymen to Christianity.

Patrick certainly had the luck of the Irish — as a young man he escaped the captors who enslaved him, and several times later in life he escaped arrest by the druids who didn't appreciate his missionary activities in their midst.

He was successful at his chosen mission, too, founding schools and churches and performing baptisms; within 200 years Ireland was a Christian country. The shamrock, a trifoliate clover, became his cleverest teaching tool, which he used to explain the Trinity — three elements forming one entity...

There is some blarney in the stories about Patrick, too, most notably the one which has him delivering a sermon on a hilltop and thereby banishing the country's snakes. Unless one understands this symbolically to refer to pagan practices, it can't be true, for Ireland had no native snakes."

At least the legend briefly mentions 3-leaf clovers, a symbol of Irish folklore and a staple of the Americanized holiday imagery. Well, technically we idolize the "lucky" four-leaf clover. But how many people actually know why a 4-leaf clover is lucky??
According to Irish lore, the leaves of a typical 3-leaf clover stand for hope, faith, and love, respectively.

As for the extra leaf on a four-leaf clover...

...it stands for luck!

And then there's the drinking thing. Did you know that Ireland used to close all pubs on St. Patrick's Day? People went to church all day instead, since St. Patrick was a holy man and March 17 was considered a holy day. I mean holiday. Hm...

Ireland is famous for producing Guinness, but that happened centuries after the death of St. Patrick, the man we now "celebrate" by consuming countless pints of the fizzy libation.
When I say "we," I'm referring to the collective United States. I, personally, drink very little beer (it's too bitter for my taste). I prefer a nice emerald-green Sprite.

Whether you choose to pay homage to beer, religious doctrines, or Irish folklore, have a fun and safe day!
And don't forget to wear some green...otherwise you might get pinched!

Sticky Fingers

Today I had an amusing conversation with a 4 year old boy about stealing:

Harris: "Bad guys do do bad things. Swiper is a very bad guy. He steals things." (Swiper is the fox from Dora the Explorer. He is notorious for his thievery).
Me: "That's right. Swiper is a thief."
Harris: "And he's a robber."
Me: "That's another name for it."

Whatever you call it, stealing is wrong. Even kleptomaniacs*(like Swiper) are capable of recognizing that their compulsions are a problem. They just have a harder time putting an end to the poor behavior.

*Kleptomania: an irresistible impulse to steal, stemming from emotional disturbance rather than economic need.

When I was slightly older than Harris, I went through what I now refer to as my "klepto" phase. My first two offenses were bookmarks I filched from Book Star (now owned by Barnes and Noble) on two separate occasions. The first time I pocketed the laminated cardboard strip, I felt a guilty thrill. The second time, I just felt guilty.
I did not steal from a store again. Instead I wrapped my sticky fingers around "less-consequential" items: those of my friends and family. I figured that stealing from them would make me less of a "bad guy" because the items had been paid for already- just not by me (remember I was only about 5!). I pocketed all sorts of trinkets over the next couple years: slap bracelets, My Little Ponies, Power Ranger trading cards, Pogs, marbles...all little things that I could take away in my pockets.
My life as a little thief was not particularly adventurous, and I wasn't particularly interested in changing that.
Until one night when I was about eight.
Some friends of my parents had a daughter a little younger than me. The daughter, Erica, had a stuffed toy that I coveted. When we were invited to her birthday party, I brought along a backpack, claiming I needed it for a change of clothes (which was actually true, since we were going to a swim party). I waited until everyone was outside before staking my claim on the toy, then stashed my now-bulging backpack under Erica's bed. When it was time to go, I wrapped my arms around my backpack in an attempt to hide its obvious growth. When my parents mentioned my pudgy pack, I told them Erica had said I could have her toy.
The theft of the stuffed animal was by far my biggest robbery, and my lie ate away at my conscience. Before long I confessed my crime to my parents, who insisted that I return the toy to Erica myself. They drove me over to her house, where I came face-to-face with her parents (Erica wasn't home). I figured that Erica's parents would be furious with me, but instead they invited me inside and offered me a root beer float. As I sat at their kitchen table slurping vanilla ice cream, my guilt intensified dramatically. I hadn't expected such kind understanding.
When we left a little while later, I still felt guilty. But mostly I felt relieved.
I have not stolen since.
I'm sure there's a name for a guilt-turned-relief-induced change in behavior, but even with my love of psychology I don't know what it is!
All I know is...
Don't be a Swiper!