Your Baby Needs Clothes On!!!

What is it with older women (talking about 60 +) and babies being cold?  Babies are not little, fragile, old women.  They are usually very healthy things.  My son can be dressed for the weather and still wake up with a sweaty back.  He's hot-natured like his parents.  We both sweat when we sleep no matter what the temperature is.

One lovely 83 degree TEXAS day in December (I was wearing a tank top and jeans and Brooks was wearing a long-sleeved [not long-legged] onesie and socks) I was out at my favorite store, Tar-shey, when I encountered a lady I've known for years.  I hadn't seen her in a long time and it was the first time that she met Brooks.  The conversation went like this:

Me: "Hey!  How are you? 

Her: "Hey girl, oh, look at Mr. Brooks!  Isn't he sweet?"  

        Then she looks at Brooks (I'm rhythmic).

Her to Brooks: Oh, sweety!  (touches and rubs his little sweet legs in an effort to warm them up) "Are your little legs cold?"

I ignored it because I pick my battles.  In my head, I rolled my eyes.

True Facts:

• A friend of mine was told by a random woman passing by her in a parking lot:  "You need to put more clothes on that baby."  
• I once saw someone have a blanket on a 4 month old in July (at least 95 degrees in Texas)

So, NO!  He is not cold.  It is 83 degrees outside, not windy, just still heat accompanied by his friend humidity.  He is NOT cold!!  Why do these people think all babies are cold, little non-thriving, weak, delicate beings?  I don't get it.  They are robust and resilient!

My husbands sweet grandma loves to cuddle our hot son in her sweaters.  That's the first thing she does when she gets a hold of him.  This also covers him in the scent of bengay (which I LOVE!).  Old people keep their homes warm anyway so I am 100% certain that he is not cold when he is up in her crib but I just let her do it because its it makes her feel better.  In addition, the first thing she said when she held Brooks for the first time was: "I think he's hungry."  Which brings me to the second part.

Hubby's Gma is also a woman who believes all children should be drinking whole milk by 6 weeks old and eating mashed potatoes.  Every time we see her she asks if he's on whole milk yet and how well does he take to water. She is worried he is not getting enough water. Wha??  I'm doing neither and I tell her this, every time.  I say that he is on formula and there is water in his formula because I mix it. Obviously whole milk, mashed potatoes, and water worked for her because she birthed 5 children and all of them are grown ups now.  I, however, like to take advantage of modern times and listen to what my pediatrician says and I'm pretty sure his formula has more stuff for him than just regular ol' whole milk.  

So basically, pre-Brooks, I thought that I was just going to be pissed every time someone voiced their parenting advice and opinions but I've surprised myself and remained calm and seemingly cooperative (as though I am going to use it).  I thought I was going to have to say "I KNOW, DAMN IT!  I have a degree in Human Development!" all the time, but I don't.  I know what I'm doing but I don't feel that urge, either.  Having Brooks has really brought patience.  I didn't just get a beautiful, bouncing, fantastic baby boy on Sep. 28, I also received a great dose of patience that day.  That's a miracle in itself.

I still just wish I knew why everyone older than 60 thinks that all babies are cold.  They aren't.  The End.

Bridal Shop - Part Two (not as exciting, but you'll get closure)

Just a week until the date of my nuptials, the bridal shop called.  I was told that the bridesmaids dresses were ready for all of the bridesmaids.  Great!  My maid of honor and I went together to get hers.  We got there and Brainiac was working that day.  “Hi, we’re here to pick up my dress.” Amanda said.  She stated my name and the date of the wedding.  Brainiac found the information and went to the back to retrieve the dress.  At least ten minutes passed when she finally got back to us.  A look of confusion covered her face. “I’m sorry, we don’t have a dress for you.”  Now, I was never a bridezilla, but this was one of the first of many incidents that made me want to turn into one.  Amanda tried to say something (she is nicer than me) when I butted in.  “Really?  You don’t have her dress?  Why?” 

“Well, ma’am, it’s not in the system.”   Then I rehashed the chain of events.  “We came in here in November to get fitted for these dresses.  We did that on purpose to make sure the dresses would be ready by my date.”  I went on and on for a few more seconds.  I wasn’t being rude because I actually felt sorry for this poor girl.  She couldn’t help it that she was an idiot. 

“One moment please, let me get the manager.”  And there he was again to save the day.  The manager studied the computer screen very diligently as though he was looking for Waldo.  He went to the back and this took another ten minutes.  He came back with the damn dress.  How wonderful.  I was happy, the dress was in our possession and it fit, thank goodness.  I just don’t understand how someone can be so dense. If this person had paid attention during training (I’m guessing there was some sort of job training since the title is "specialist?") then this wouldn’t have been an issue unless the store is really unorganized, which is very possible.  The End.  

.......stay tuned for the dry cleaner's story.  

Bridal Shop - Part One

Any store or business that deals with weddings and other large, important events is making insane amounts of dough.  For example, a bridal chain which is very popular for most modest individuals monetarily raped me when I was planning my big day.  I had purchased my wedding dress, along with all of the bridesmaid dresses, the mother of the bride dress, and even tattoo cover up from this joint.  I was in their system—lucky me.  They have to keep you in their system so they know to call you if, I mean, when, your over-priced garments are available to be picked up.  This call that you will receive will always depend on the date of the event. For instance, if you plan your nuptials for early December and it is only February, chances are, the over-priced garments will  not be ready at least two weeks to one month before the actual date.  I know this from experience.  

My bestie and I were planning our weddings simultaneously.  Mine was in April, hers was in June.  We were each others’ maids of honor.  Not difficult to follow if you were at one point, a high school student.  It became apparent to me that in the event garment business, this must not be a common occurrence.  It was obvious to my friend and me that these individuals who specialize in the garments worn at special events were definitely not trained in this specific area.  We went to the bridal shop together and explained to them our situation.  “Hi.  We are both getting married.  We are each others’ maid of honor.”  The lovable girl at the counter looked at us dumbfounded.  “What do you mean?” she asked.  Amanda and I looked at each other and we too, were dumbfounded.  I know that we explained that as simple as we could.  I know that there was no other way to say it.  Amanda repeated the exact same sentences that were said before.  “We’re both getting married and we are each others’ maid of honor.”   The brainiac bridal “specialist” stared blankly at us and went to get the manager--and there he was.  “Hi Ladies, how can I help you?”  The sentence was spoken for the third time.  Then we saw the light bulb go off about 10 seconds later.  

When you’re an educator, that light bulb is a gratifying feeling, but when you’re a customer willing to pay for someone’s expertise and it takes three times for the light bulb, you don’t really feel that gratification.  It’s not rewarding when apparently competent adults finally “get it.”  Now, I use the word “competent” very lightly.  Competent in this situation is waking up, getting dressed, going to the bathroom when your body tells you that you have to go, and getting to work—but that’s just my opinion.  Finally someone got it.

We began to look at dresses and tried some on.  When it came time to order, there was yet another issue.  We decided to order for me first since chronologically my wedding was first.  I said my name, my bridesmaids’ names, and the date of my event.  I showed them two different dresses.  I wanted my bestie to feel important so she got to wear a dress that was unlike the others.  This was very complicated for the specialists.  They just couldn’t seem to match her name with the dress number.  

I honestly don’t know how these people function in the real world.  It wasn’t difficult to request dresses for my other bridesmaids.  I was almost to the point where I thought I was going crazy, but I could read Amanda’s expression and then I knew it wasn’t just me and I wasn’t going to have to go to an institution.  It came time to order for Amanda’s wedding and that was pretty much a breeze.  She didn’t throw them for a loop like I did.  She didn’t want me to feel important, so I had to wear what the others wore.  It was a lovely choice, though.  My breasts looked fake in this dress and they aren’t, so I was happy.  This story is not over yet.  To be continued......

Rant - Mom Said I Didn't Have to Come

I deleted this because the content was offensive to some and I want to keep my job because I love it.  If you would like to read it, please email me or post here and I will message it to you.
THANK YOU!

My Dogs Do Not Have Working Thumbs

My husband and I are TV junkies. In other words, we want our shit to work.  I got a bill from my cable company that seemed several dollars more than the norm.  I checked it out and noticed that a collaboration of nature-type channels were added to our very basic line up at the time.  The cost was $7.95.  I did not order this, neither did my husband.  I knew he didn’t because he can’t even change the toilet paper roll, much less pay a bill.  That’s MY job!  So I called the company and told them that I noticed this extra charge and I would like it removed.  They nice man on the other side said, “Why is it that you want to remove the channel?  Are you not satisfied?  I kindly said, “No, I never ordered it and don’t want it.”  He said, “Uh, yes maam, you did order it.  I have a record of your number calling at 8:03am on Feb 6^th”.  I said, “Sir, I did not call and add this series of channels to my line up; it didn’t happen.”  Then he questioned me!  “Maybe someone else in your household did.”  I kindly replied back. “No, my husband won’t even order a pizza; he wouldn’t call and add channels. I also know that it wasn’t me because I am unemployed and I was sleeping at 8:03 a.m. that day,” I never woke up before 10 a.m. when I was unemployed.  I also added that the dogs couldn’t have ordered the extra channels not only because they didn’t have opposable thumbs but also because they didn’t know the number and couldn’t speak human.  He tried to remain professional, but I could tell that my sarcasm was bothering him.  It’s my specialty.  It's probably not that obvious, though.

I finally got him to cancel it but I was still going to get charged for the month that the stupid channels were on there.  I then asked to speak to the manager because ol’ boy couldn’t remove the charge totally.  After many minutes later, a manager got on the line.  I explained the situation.  He also gave me the time and date that I allegedly added the channels.  I told him I did not and he hesitated.  I finally had to put into perspective for him.  I said, “Sir?  Have you ever been accused of doing something that you didn’t do?” 

“Um, no ma’am, I haven’t”—Liar.  I told him that very thing was happening to me.  We shot the shit a little longer and he finally removed the charge.  He still didn’t believe me, though.  I know you would think that the story ends here, but it doesn’t.  The next month, I get my revised bill with the channels removed, but there was still a problem.  The  “change of service fee” of $1.99.  This made me angrier than the first incident.  Why?  Because I NEVER CHANGED MY SERVICE IN THE FIRST PLACE!  I called again to get the stupid charge taken off and finally talked to someone with a brain.  I could tell he was smiling when he was talking to me.  Damian was a gem and a fantastic customer service associate and I will always hold him close to my heart.  It wasn't about the $1.99, it was about the fact that this crappy company was trying to get me and I can't be got-en. The End.

What's the Job Description?

I went to a job interview one lovely cool, fall day.  I was told to be there at 9:30am for the interview.  At this point, I was pretty desperate for a job so I would go to any interview I could.  This one happened to be very close to my home so I was pretty excited, but I really didn’t know the actual job description or anything about the company.  I’d never even heard of them before, but like I said, I was desperate.  I had asked the “boss” lady who called me for the interview what the job description was and she said, “It is an administrative assistant position.”  I said, “Ok” to her and “no shit” to myself.  I was fully aware of the title of the job because I was the person who applied for it.  I wanted to know what HER description of it was.  All companies are different.  She then continued to explain the company expectations and what they did, stood for, and blah blah blah.  She rambled for what seemed like 5 hours, but was really like 3-4 minutes about how it was her company, how she was the CEO and it was some crap about insurance representation for the financially unstable.  It didn’t make any sense to me, but if forced to, I would.  

I arrived for my interview at 9:10 (remember, the actual interview was at 9:30) only to wait.  I met with a male receptionist when I walked in and he was ever so pleasant.  He offered me coffee and kolaches.  I was pretty sure they weren’t real kolaches but in fact dough, stuffed with fruit jelly then baked.   I also knew only old Czech women know what real kolaches are and at that point, I declined the imitation because I know that man didn't go get a true Czech person to make those kolaches for him that morning.   He just didn't.  I only know about true kolaches  because I grew up in a small town full of Czech women who made batches of them all the time and had kolache sales on the weekends.  While I was at it, I declined the coffee, too.  Any coffee that’s free is shit.  It’s weak like an emo kid.  I hate public coffee. 

As the male receptionist was doing his business setting up for the day, he started a small talk conversation with me.  He asked me if I went to college and the answer was yes.  I’m pretty sure he was jealous.  My school is awesome.  He tried to talk to me about college sports, but I didn’t care and just tried to act interested.  I asked him if he knew much about the position and he said that it was an administrative assistant position.  No shit…again.  Where’s Watson?   I looked around.  

Time went on; I still never got the answer I wanted about the job expectations/description.  I just wanted to know what it was I was supposed to do if hired.  How hard is that to answer?  It was like these people were politicians the way they avoided directly answering questions—or maybe they just didn’t really know.  Shoot, if they really walked around oblivious all day and got paid for it--I'm game.  I love doing that.

It was 9:25 at this point.  The phone rang; the male receptionist answered it in an animated voice.   I heard, “Yes ma’am!  I will let her know!!”  He hung up. “Laticia will be a little late.  She apologizes.”  Wow.  Why in the hell would I want to work for a company when the “oh so powerful” boss lady can’t even keep her time promise?  I smiled politely, trying to be the best prospective employee ever and sucked up my irritation.  As I crossed my legs for the 50^th time (I fidget a lot), Mary Poppins walked in.  

Now, I know you’re thinking Leticia looked like Mary Poppins, but this was not Laticia.  It was the next individual to be interviewed.  Mary Poppins is the nickname I have given to this woman.  She was dressed like a headmaster at a private school in 1953 and she was probably in her  early 30’s.  See, Mary Poppins and I were actually punctual.  Leticia, the boss, was still late.  If she wanted to meet with me at 9:52 (which was when she showed up), then she should have scheduled my interview at 9:52. In the mean time, I said good morning to Mary Poppins and she ignored me.  I'd be intimidated, too.

 Laticia, the CEO, finally shows up with her Starbuck’s (which probably took 10 minutes to get) and is vivacious all around!  Laticia is very outspoken and obviously a powerful woman.  I was called into the office where Laticia and a female cross between Steven Tyler and Janice Dickinson  awaited my responses to their “difficult” generic interview questions.  They began with questions about taking control of situations.  I gave examples, they gave examples, we all gave examples.  It was like a slumber party share session, but for grownups in business wear and no sleeping bags.  I was looking around for the games and snacks.

Bullshit questions were asked and I gave bullshit answers—I’m never going to tell a prospective employer that I am an underachiever, hate schedules, don’t care to move up because that means more responsibility.  I do just what I have to do to get by--plain and simple.    Even my current boss knows this.  Ten minutes went by then I did it again.  I asked my question once more.  “What is the job description?”  She rehashed everything she had just said and even reminisced about our phone call which I really didn’t remember because she had disturbed me when I was in the middle of drinking lunch with friends.  I had to act like I remembered what she told me on the phone, which was all gibberish and didn’t mean anything anyway.  Then in the middle of more gibberish, she said the word “sales.”  Oh no ma'am!!! 

I said, “Hold on.  Sales?”  She said, “Yes, when I am out of the office, you would act as me and be in charge of sales.”  First of all, if I were to “act as her,” I’d have to gain some weight, get really long cat-like solar nails, fake lashes, hair extensions, wear too much make up, and act busy all day.  I just wasn’t up to that challenge.  

I calmly said, “I asked about the job entailment several times and no one ever mentioned sales.  I don’t do sales.”  I apologized for wasting their time and got up and left.  On my way out, I wished Mary Poppins the best of luck and she still ignored me.  The End.

Rant - Your Actions, Your Responsibility

When you wake up in the morning and make the decision to get out of bed, that is YOUR decision.  You made the choice yourself.  Its no ones fault you pulled your lifeless body up and flopped out.  And even if someone did drag you out of bed, you still got up but you could have just laid there and said, "Ef it."  If you were at my house though, you'd jump up real quick because you wouldn't want the dog/cat/my hair all over you because I don't clean house. <---See.  I totally just took responsibility for my lack of cleaning.

I am so sick of people, especially this generation, not being responsible for their actions.  There is always an excuse or someone else to blame.  I learned that I was responsible for my actions a long time ago but it really sunk in when I got too many tardies in high school for poor time management.  I was a pee-er.  Anyone who knows me knows that my bladder is smaller than my 4 month old's.  I have to pee.  All.  The. Time.  It's fact.

The Asst. Principal didn't care that I had to pee when I was sitting in his office trying to explain why I was always late to class.  Apparently, I was supposed to plan my day around my bladder.  I was supposed to carry 7 period's worth of books and binders in my back pack so I could stop in the bathroom instead of by my locker and then proceed to class on time.  My 17-year-old brain didn't get this but I never blamed anyone.  Obviously I had to do something about it and my social life suffered.....no it didn't.

One of my former students was just bitching tonight because he was walking in a parking lot and someone's car had a piece of metal hanging off of it and it snagged his jacket.  He thinks this person owes him a new jacket.  Maybe if he had watched where he was going, then his little jacket would still be in one piece.   If I could tell this group of youngsters something that would actually stick-- I would tell them to suck it up and DEAL with it.  Shit happens and that's just it-- It happens.  Urbody wanna sue!  If I was walking in a store and I tripped because I just plain tripped, I wouldn't sue the store.  I just wouldn't.

Now, last month, I was at the awesome  Red Bulls-eye Store  (can I use store names in blogs?) and when I rolled up into the checkout lane. I was busy biting baby feetsies and making growling sounds (at the baby, not other customers) to realize that my cart and my shoes and the bottom of my jeans were hanging out in a large 4X4 puddle of spilled milk.  When I noticed it, I said, "Oh wow.  I didn't even see this."  The lady in front of me said, "Oh, I didn't either."  First of all...... I suppose this is because my parents raised me with manners, I would have said something to someone about to walk all up in a puddle of milk.  She apparently didn't have decent parents or she just got fed up with the world and doesn't believe in common courtesy anymore (can you blame her?).  Anyway, when I got to the cashier, I mentioned the puddle of milk and she said, "Oh, no one clean dat up yet?"  No call to anyone.  A little irritated, I just went to the customer service desk after I paid and explained that there was spilled milk, a large puddle of it, and it seems as though no one is worried about cleaning it up. They asked several questions.  I felt like I was very clear, but that's nothing new.  I'd play dumb if I made minimum wage, too.

Ok, the point of that whole thing was if I had slipped and busted my ass in the milk, I'd probably expect a gift card but I still wouldn't sue.  Why?  Because shit happens.  The End.

Making Out Like a Bandit

Every time I go to self-checkout, I feel like a bandit. I don’t know why but I guess it’s because I often wonder how many people try to sneak grocery items by without the store noticing or I wonder how many people actually get away with it.  I heard a woman walked out of a grocery store, just the other day, with a basket full of groceries she didn't pay for.  But somehow she got caught.

I don’t steal, so I’m not the proper individual to try to evaluate that type of situation.  I scanned my items, paid and went on my way.  As I was walking out, the security alarm thing beeped and rudely told me to go back to the cashier.  I did what I was told and walked up to the cashier in charge of self-checkout—what a cake job, by the way.  She was, of course, chatting with her big grocery chain BFF and another fellow chatter and they paid no attention to me, the valued customer.  I was actually doing what I was told, following the rules and she was getting paid at least nine dollars an hour to yap.  I walked up to the collection of incompetent blabbermouths and they looked at me like I was a band geek coming to sit at their cheerleader table for lunch.   

I said “The security alarm beeped when I walked out.”  Blank stares.  “Do you need to check me or something?”  Crickets.  “Ok then.”  Said I, as I rolled my eyes and walked out.  This blows me away and it’s definitely not the first time it’s happened.  It seems like people can really get away with shoplifting.  I am in no way condoning shoplifting, but it seems pretty simple to get away with.  

I was at a department store once and purchased a comforter set.  I paid for it, all $300 of it and began to leave the premises.  I had purchased it on the 3^rd floor and walked out on the 1^st.  When the voice told me to go see the cashier, I headed that way.  One of the individuals, hard working, I’m sure, on the 1^st floor told me, “Oh, it’s okay, go ahead.”  

This person did not know that I had purchased this item.  Perhaps I am uninformed regarding this matter, but I thought they pay some video surveillance rent-a-cop to sit and watch cameras all day and I bet he wouldn’t be able to view every single activity in every angle of the store for his whole shift.  I’m sure he’d get a tweet or text message that would distract him for a few seconds.  
I am willing to bet that said rent-a-cop has a bitchy, sex-withholding wife at home who can’t find their junkie, delinquent son.  Probably the son that showed up late to the sandwich shop that day I had my coupon.  It is plausible that said rent-a-cop actually eats food or takes a drink of liquid at some point throughout the day.  It is impossible, to think that someone can know the entire goings on in one large 3 story store with 12 departments all by his lonesome.  All this assuming really makes me feel that shoplifting is easy unless someone actually sees you do it.  However, if someone sees it happen, that means confrontation and in our twisted, technological world, confrontation is not going to happen unless you can arrest someone via text message or social network.  

Baked Jalapeno Bacon Poppers

Baked Jalapeno Bacon Poppers
These look fab but I will be using real jalapenos.

Girl With a Coupon

As a middle-class individual, I feel excitement when there is a coupon that I will actually use due to the convenience of it.  My husband and I had just purchased our first home and we were house-poor.  We had a nice, big, empty  house but due to the closing costs, service transfer fees, and all of that jazz, we would be barely “making it” until our next paychecks.  I got a coupon in the mail for a certain sandwich shop that had a “new” sandwich that sounded pretty awesome.  I was stoked to find that it was a buy one, get one free coupon and very close to our new dwelling.  I gathered my belongings for quick road travel and headed out. 

Now, let me inform you that we have a two-story home and there is a wooden balcony and stairs coming off of the main living area (which is upstairs).  That is our primary exit.  It had rained a bit that morning and we all know that wood can be slippery when wet. 

It was 11:30am and only with the new culinary creation in mind, I scurried down the first 3 steps, and then tumbled down the remaining 10.  My last season sundress flew up and my now scratched up, bare ass was one on one with the bottom step.  Cheap flip-flops aren’t compatible with wet wood.  Thankfully, I had not broken any bones or had any life-threatening injuries.  This was a reason to be grateful since (unbeknownst to me at the time) the insurance company had inappropriately dropped me only days before.  So I brushed myself off, wiped the blood off of the back of my thigh and several parts of my not-so-helpful upper body and went on my merry way.   

I pulled into the parking lot only to be discouraged.  The “open” sign was off.   They were closed.  I got out anyway; it had begun to rain again and I was determined.  I walked up to the door and did what every other normal asshole would do and tried to open it.  Well, before I tried to open the door, I read the sign that was handwritten, obviously by a 2^nd grader.  It read “Sry 4 the inconvinence.  open at 12.”  Really?  Because your real sign says 11.  I waited.  I had a coupon! 

Some kid who was supposed to open that morning must have been out too late to wake up on time—thanks Mom and Dad for NOT showing your kid responsibility.  As I waited, people kept walking up to the door and trying to open it while reading the child’s sign.  I laughed every time someone else tried to open it.... people are so predictable.  I only tried to open the door because I just had a catastrophic experience and was semi-discombobulated.

Lean Cuisines

I    AM    IN   LOVE with Lean Cuisines.  I haven't tried all of them yet but I plan on it in the near future.  They count the calories for you which always makes me feel better when I eat those several cookies or pieces of cake after work.  I always have a stock pile of Lean Cuisines in the freezer.  My absolute favorite is the Chicken Potstickers in the steamer bag.  OH wowey.  They really are restaurant quality and do not taste low-cal or low-fat AT ALL.
They have over 90 different meals and seriously--I never met a Lean Cuisine that I didn't absolutely LOVE.
Since I failed my New Years resolution after Day 2, I decided to use my passion for Lean Cuisines to help me lose weight or at least attempt to eat more sensibly.  I make a green smoothie for breakfast and a Lean Cuisine for lunch, then a "sensible" dinner. Sensible isn't slathering it in butter and cheese.
I love food and hate working out.

HATE IT.  The End.

A Waitress and a Corona

Several years ago, my cousin, Kelly and I were at a well-known eatery popular for their "wings" and not the hot bodies walking around when I ordered a Mexican beer.  I like lime in my beer—call me crazy.  We ordered from our waitress who had A-cups up to her chin.  She was all, “like, hi guys, what can I get for you?”  So affected it made me want to slap her.  

We ordered our food.  I got my beer with lime.  I may be the only person in the world that does this, but I shoved the lime inside the neck of the bottle and it didn't sink.  It’s really not supposed to because I think limes have buoyancy issues… but anyway, I like to feel like my beer is taking full advantage of the lime.  I stick my thumb in the hole, tip the beer over until the lime hits the bottom, then tip it back upright.  As I was doing this, a random waitress walked by, silverware in arms and with the look of worry on her pretty, anorexic face.  In the sweetest, most caring voice, she cocked her head to the side and asked “Are you trying to get that lime out of there?”  She was dead serious.  

Yes waitress girl, I am trying to dump my entire fresh bottle of beer out to get this stupid lime that came in it.  Who puts a lime in Mexican beer? Flabbergasted, I said, “No.”  She should have felt really stupid, but I don’t think she even knew.  Poor girl.  

But here’s some food for thought--think about how nice it must be to walk around every day so oblivious to the world around you.  

Feeling like a baby boomer right about now.....

I had a blog once..... but I don't even remember the name.  All I remember was a bunch of weirdos started following me so I quit.  I really don't know what I'm doing, where to start, or even if it will be interesting but here it goes!

My name is Jamie.  I am a mother, wife, and I happen to be a teacher, too.  I've been married to my hot-headed dreamboat for almost 4 years and we just had a beautiful baby boy in September.  His name is Brooks.  I never knew that I was missing something in my life until the day he was born--Hubby agrees.

I also teach Family and Consumer Sciences at a very "rural" high school extremely far from my home.  My curriculum includes Nutrition/Fitness (I am neither nutritious nor fit), Child Guidance, Hospitality, and Culinary Arts.

In this blog, you may find the following:

1. Boasts about my sweet boy and milestones he hits as he grows

2. You probably won't encounter many boasts about my husband (although he is great), because I believe a woman who does boast about her husband, has something in her closet.... just an observation/opinion.

3. Recipes--maybe with pictures, maybe not.  I'm impulsive and scatterbrained.  I often do things suddenly.  I am a pretty decent cook so try not to be intimidated. ;)

4. Complaints and comments about students and/or citizens I encounter on an every day basis that could possibly get me fired.  I don't say names, so I think I'm in the clear.  Remember, I said I worked in a "rural" area.  Think "People of Walmart" and their kids.

5. Humor.  I use all kinds.  Get over it.

6. Me, not sticking to "the norms."  I'm a great mom and wife but I don't believe in sugar-coating the truth and always get in trouble with my mom (I'm 29) for "telling everything I know".  I'm not sorry.  I don't believe in lying and I usually don't believe everything I hear or read.  I think most articles (especially pregnancy info ones) and websites are mostly bull poo and I like to do what I want unless it is harmful to myself and those I love.  I use COMMON SENSE.

7.  I love Dr. Phil and I will most definitely discuss his shows on here.  I don't like Oprah, however but I must thank her for introducing ol' Phil.  Thanks, O.

8. I thoroughly enjoy complaining.  I have part of a book written about "Incompetence at Places of Business" so I'll probably include those, too.  Maybe I'll get published!!!

9.  You shouldn't see typographical errors, either.  I am also a certified English teacher and correctly spell and grammarize.  I also make up words.

10.  ...... to be continued?  I think that's all, though.