Category: Daily Life

Last night I babysat my 5-year-old niece and discovered that she has become an expert in the fine art of dawdling.  There once was a time when she obeyed my every request with minimal hesitation.  That time has ended.

The dawdling was all centered around bedtime.  She willingly stopped watching "Monsters, Inc." before it was over when bedtime arrived.  I thought I was home free, but I was very wrong.  We went upstairs to her room and I asked her to put on her nightgown and brush her teeth.

"Wait!" she said, and ran back downstairs.  It turned out she needed to get her pinkeye medicine so I could administer it.  That was fine because I didn’t even know she was still taking it.

"Okay," I said, "Now put on your nightgown and brush your teeth."

She goofed around with her shirt for several minutes, constantly getting distracted by objects in the room.  I got a little more insistent that she hurry up, take off her clothes and put on her nightgown.

She ducked behind her closet door and asked me to hand over the nightie, "But don’t look at me." 

Fine, whatever.

After another couple of minutes passed, she finally emerged with her nightgown on and I resumed the toothbrushing prompts.  But no, first she needed her eyedrops.

I put two eyedrops in each eye and she had to sit up and dab her eyes with a tissue in between each drop.  Finally that was over and she slowly put toothpaste on her toothbrush and, with only a few more interruptions, brushed her teeth.

She tried to prolong the process of choosing a book for me to read, but I think my impatience was finally getting through.  I read a book about a little girl who pretends she’s a fairy, hugged my niece goodnight (to avoid the pinkeye germs), and closed the door…

…then had to immediately open the door and turn the light back on because I’d left my cell phone in the bathroom and, I discovered, also shut their Pomeranian in the room.  Oops.

That set the stage for a little extra back-and-forth, but I managed to get the lights turned back out and the door shut.  Whew.

The thing is, that was my M.O. as a child in every detail.  I was the Queen of Dawdling, whether it involved going to bed, doing chores, getting dressed, or anything else my parents asked me to do.  And now karma is reflecting a little of it right back at me.  I suppose it’s the least I deserve.

This has been bugging me every time I go to my local sandwich shop.  It’s part of a triptych that begins with "Oooh…!" and ends with "Mmmm…!"

I’m sure they meant "Ahhh…!" but what they ended up with was an exclamation of shock and fear.  Because the photo depicts my favorite sandwich, I always end up sitting across from it thinking, "What’s so scary about the #4 on white with standard toppings?"

To wrap up the week, here’s a nice, juicy list of some of the things that are making me happy right now:

1. Cute Overload! 😉 – (Yes, it has the emoticon in the title.)  I thought I was too cynical, jaded and cool to be swayed by the sight of an adorable hamster or puppy.  I was wrong.  I go to this site every day and sometimes I say, "Awwww!" out loud, and I don’t care who’s listening.
2. Scrubs is back on!  As an added bonus, NBC has been running them two at a time, although really that’s just because they foolishly kept the show off the air all season until now.
3. Oranges are in season and they’re really good and cheap this year.  I’m due to buy another sack of them the next time I go to the grocery store.
4. There’s (finally) a new post on Snarkywood this week!  Sure, Madonna is too easy a target, but I’ll take a nice, fresh helping of their snark anytime.
5. Say what you will about The Sharper Image and their pricey gadgetry, but my, oh my, do I love our Ionic Breeze air purifier.  If I could afford it, I would buy one for every room of my house without hesitation.  We have one in our bedroom and it’s cut my husband’s allergy symptoms down significantly.  Plus, it makes the air smell wonderful.
6. I talked to my husband last night and he’s having a delightful time in Anaheim, just as I predicted.  He said he’d get me Joe Satriani’s autograph tomorrow.  What a nice husband.
7. I’ve been having fun posting to Who In the What Now? and reading what other people post.

What’s making you particularly happy these days?

Yesterday I took my car into the shop because the "check engine" light was on.  Also, I’d been noticing the smell of singed electrical components every time I turned on the defroster, so I figured that was worth mentioning while I was there.

It turned out that my catalytic converter needs to be replaced.  In fact, it was responsible for both of the symptoms for which I brought in the car.  For most cars, a new catalytic converter would cost about $200.  For my Honda Insight, the cost is more like $1,200.  Fortunately, my warranty will cover the whole thing.

Naturally, my dealer didn’t have the part on hand, so I’ll be making another trek to the shop next week for the actual replacement.  In the meantime, I still have to look at the warning light every time I drive (it’s an especially alarming one, too, with the words "check engine" written inside a yellow outline in the shape of an engine).  I’ve been assured that it will not hurt anything for me to continue driving the car.

This may be the first time I’ve ever had a car problem covered by a warranty.  I’m certainly not complaining!

My husband is leaving today for Los Angeles to go to the NAMM show.  Even though he’s been a professional musician for years, he still geeks out over events like this.  He and I went to a couple of NAMM shows in Nashville years ago, and he still has the photos and autographs in the studio.  I’m sure he’ll have a fantastic time at the BIG show they have in Anaheim.  I don’t think he’s ever been to one there.

While he’s gone, I’ll have to think of ways to entertain myself.  Tonight I have a club meeting and I’ve been trying to schedule a dinner with a friend tomorrow night.  I’m attending an industry awards show on Friday night and there’s also a roller derby party that evening.  On Saturday evening there’s band practice.  I guess my entertainment is pretty well covered after all.

The hardest thing to do while my husband is gone is resist the temptation to let the cats sleep with me.  They’ve been banned from the bedroom for quite some time now, but I tend to weaken when it’s just me.  I’m always immediately sorry after a night of being walked on, having my fingers gnawed, etc.

I’m glad my husband gets to go do something he’ll really enjoy.  I’ve been on several fun trips in the past year or so, but he hasn’t been anywhere lately.  I have BlogHer coming up in July, but maybe he and I can think of a fun weekend trip we can take together before that.  Any suggestions?

After talking about my difficulties recognizing people out of context, I had someone I know fail to recognize me.

When I was at the bookstore earlier in the week, I noticed that one of the clerks was someone I worked with about three jobs ago.  We’ve kept lightly in touch, but I hadn’t seen him in a year or so.  I chose his station and stepped up with my purchases.

"Will this be all?" he asked, neutrally.  I looked at him closely, but there was no sign that he knew me.

"Yes," I said, and handed him my credit card, figuring he’d notice my name.

"May I see your driver’s license?" he asked.  Okay, I guess he didn’t look at the name. 

By then, the situation was getting Larry David-esque.  It felt too late to say something, but I figured he’d read my name from my driver’s license and then realize we knew each other.

He handed back the license.  Apparently the whole license comparison thing is pretty darned cursory, because he evidentally had not read my name (which is distinctive enough that it would definitely have triggered recognition).

Now it was really too late to say something because he would be embarrassed.
He handed me my receipt and purchase and thanked me for shopping there.  I took my bag and left.

Now, I’m sure it didn’t help that my hair color is dark brown now and it was blonde the last time he saw me.  Still, you’d think my face would still be recognizable. 

I guess I understand now how Superman gets away with his Clark Kent disguise.

Last night, my husband and I actually managed to go out for the entire evening – on a work night, no less!

I’d gotten premiere passes to Last Holiday, so we figured we might as well start by taking in a free movie.  We got there earlier than necessary, so we ate popcorn and chatted while we waited for it to start.  It turned out to be better than the commercials had led us to expect.  Although any movie that has Queen Latifah, LL Cool J and Gérard Depardieu – really, what’s not to like?

After the movie, we went to one of our favorite restaurants and had a fairly quick dinner.  We got there at 9:30 and it was only open until 10:00, so we didn’t want to overstay.  Yes, Waiter Rant has made me an even more conscientious diner than I was before.

Finally, we went to a club to see a dance/funk band play.  My husband knows most of the band members, so we talked with them as they ended their break, then stayed to watch them play until midnight.  If it had been a Friday, I think we’d have stayed until they finished at 1:00 a.m.

I have a busy weekend planned, but not much of it involves the hubby, so it was nice to get to go out on the town.  We’ll have to do this more often.

In yesterday’s post on Velcrometer, M. Giant shared the story of his weekend bout of food poisoning.  The commenters all jumped in with their own horrible stories of copious puking.  Why?  Because nobody can resist once that topic gets started.  Oh, occasionally someone will come along who claims he or she never throws up, but I find that very difficult to believe.

My most hideously memorable food poisoning experience took place in Las Vegas.  A friend of mine was there getting married and I was one of her bridesmaids.  I made it through the ceremony and the reception, but the rest of the evening was Average Jane’s Puking Tour of the Strip.  I threw up in the bushes at Caesar’s Palace.  I threw up in the wastebasket on one of the buses (my husband said everyone looked at me as though I were a crazed junkie, but I was too sick to care).  I threw up in the bathroom at Planet Hollywood (but the bathroom attendant had mouthwash so, score!).  Eventually I ended up in the emergency room with a saline drip.  The next day I slept all day long while all my friends ran around having fun.

My runner-up story happened in college.  I was sitting in biology class when I started feeling queasy.  (It was NOT a hangover, by the way.  I’d had some suspicious deli meat for lunch earlier that day.)  Because I was sitting near the front of a big lecture hall, I was reluctant to get up in front of everyone.  That was a very bad call.  I ended up puking all over my books, purse and lap and THEN getting up in front of everyone.

Okay, I’m throwing down the gauntlet.  Let’s hear your terrible yakking stories.  You know you can’t resist.

My mother used to say that our family motto was, "Never stand if you can sit; never sit if you can lie down."

Sometimes I try to resist my laziness genes, but I just spent an entire weekend planted on the couch when I wasn’t lying in bed.

It all started when I went to the chiropractor on Friday.  I felt fantastic after I left her office, but I woke up on Saturday morning with my back muscles tensed in ten different directions.  I managed to make breakfast, but I skipped out on the chance to go see a friend at a blues jam, opting instead to sleep most of the afternoon.  At least that made the cats happy.

The whole day was a series of ineffective back pampering attempts:  ice, heat, IcyHot, Extra Strength Tylenol, lying on a tennis ball, Midol (hey, why not?), repeat. 

In the evening, my husband suggested going to a movie, but we opted to stay home and watch our DVD of This Is Spinal Tap instead.  It never gets old.  We watched all the deleted scenes, too.

By Sunday morning, my back spasms had concentrated themselves over my right shoulder blade.  It wasn’t until then that I remembered injuring those same muscles falling on the ice a month or so ago.  I forgot to tell the chiropractor about that when I saw her, and now I wonder if that might have made a difference in my treatment.  Sigh.

I scrapped plans to visit my sister because I couldn’t face two 30-minute drives, so Sunday was another couch potato day.  My husband and I watched Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey while we ate breakfast (that’s the movie we saw on our first date), and it was as non-heinous as we remembered.

Aside from washing the pots and pans and doing a couple of loads of laundry, I accomplished NOTHING this weekend.  Well, I’m caught up on my blog reading, but I don’t think that counts.

The good news is that my back feels marginally better.  Let’s hope it’s okay for a week of sitting in an office chair.  I don’t think they’ll let me lie down at the office.

I used to have trouble recognizing casual acquaintances away from the context in which I usually saw them. 

For example, when I was still in college I went to a restaurant with the band I was in at the time.  A guy came up to me to say "hi," and I knew he was someone I knew.  I wracked my brain for the rest of the meal, wondering who he could be.  The mystery was solved on Monday:  he sat next to me in one of my classes three days a week. 

Then there was the time I was selling t-shirts for a boyfriend’s band when a girl came up and asked, "Are you [Average Jane’s Real Name] and did you go to Alpha Preschool?"

I wanted to say, "Yes, but you’re a complete freak for remembering someone from preschool."

Seriously, who looks at a spandex-clad nineteen-year-old with huge, blonde ’80s hair and recognizes her as the shy, straight-haired preschooler who favored granny dresses?  She actually seemed to expect me to remember her, too.  Uh, no.

My out-of-context recognition was put to the test at the video store the other day.  There was a younger couple in front of us and the wife turned around and said, "Hey, funny running into you guys here!"

"I know!" I said, trying desperately to think of who they were.

My mind raced.  My husband showed no signs of recognition at all, so they couldn’t be his friends, band members or co-workers.  I didn’t think either one of them looked familiar from my new job, even though there are an awful lot of people there.  I seized on the most logical explanation and was ready when they reached the counter and my husband gave me a quizzical look.

"They’re our next door neighbors," I told him, under my breath.

We really need to get more involved in our neighborhood, but that’s another story.