Monday, March 23, 2009

I got new conditioner!

OK so I am struggling as of late. Same stuff everyone else is struggling with, but I have just had 9 days off of work to sit in my jammies overwatching TLC! Well, and NCIS...God bless Mark Harmon! Just as an FYI, if you text, CHACHA is a great place to text to find answers to wierd things such as "How many TV shows has Mark Harmon starred in?". In the address field type in 242242 and then send your question. Throughout the Vegas trip I used it. I find it reassuring to have someone asnwer my unanswerable questions. BTW, Janet Jackson was in 4 tv shows, YOU ask CHA CHA!

Anyway so I left the house yesterday, Mike needed birthday cards! I did put an athletic bra on under my semi dirty shirt! I felt pretty proud! Sadly one of the big reasons I went to the store was to take the dogs for a ride. That is the high point of their day! The other day I went to the bagel place & left the dogs in the car with the groceries. HUGE mistake. Daisy has actually pawed open a bag of de icer for the garbage. So after I placed my order, I ran to the door of the store & beeped the lock. IMMEDIATELY all three heads popped up looking for Da Momma. I went back to the curious clerks waited a bit then ran back to the door & beeped the lock, again three heads popped up looking for Da Momma. I only had to do that three times to keep the dogs away from the food. Luke tends to drool when I am gone too long...because he was adopted, I think he has abandonment issued. Daisy is SURE that there is something SOMEWHERE she can eat, I give her little opportunity to find success. Bo tends to DIG at things and pull out anything in the main console and the side door bins. One time I think Daisy figured out how to open the upper glove box...sigh. So I worry as to what I do when I am in the store.

Walking around the store I was ovwerwhelmed by the fact that I have to budget now....sigh. Totally bumming me out. I had my Rain Man list. You know the list that is in your head that you actually recite as you walk around...."No, I don't need pasta....oh Mike asked me to get carrot juice....gotta get something for Mike's birthday dinner." That ongoing list you mumble throughout the store, my sister said I sound like Rain Man when I go through the store talking through my list. I didn't need a whole lot but I was heading out when I remembered I needed conditioner! I almost skipped to the aisle.

Why the joy? As a broke single person, I would head to Target and shop for what little I could afford...and finding a new shampoo or conditioner was great! Finding a new smell, a new texture...just SOMETHING I could enjoy was totally fun! I remember in college we would dress UP to go to the Eugene Oregon verson of WalMart 20 years ago. We would pile into any car we could and go through the aisle looking for whatever we could under our $10 (or sometimes less) budget! It was an event...we had fun. So I continue it! I must say that Herbal Essence is NOT the wierd hippie shampoo it was when I was a kid....so I am happy with Drama Clean! Great smell....I was happy!

Yes, new conditioner made me happy! Though I did tell the clerk that it had been the first time in days I had been out of the house...she, for some reason, was envious! Laugh...Driving home with my excited pets, I did have to re-think my attitude to be envious of that as well. New conditioner, dog kisses, and envious clerks????? What else does one person need for joy!

Be great to you!
H

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Wonder

Last night I did something that I have done a few times since I was a child. The fascination and wonder at what happened still captures me.

I put sunflower seeds on wet paper towels and covered them with clear wrap to watch them germinate. I did it in college to some daisy seeds. It is an amazing process that I never want to be bored of. I showed my husband and he had little recollection of doing the same thing as a child. I was shocked. Didn't every child have the science project of watching seeds grow? So I put them on his windowsill so we can watch it together. I am excited!

Years ago a book came out which until recently I still had a copy of on my desk...Everything I Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. Robert Fulghum. I was and still am struck by the book. I have a few of his subsequent books. I enjoy reading them still! I have met him. I don't need to say that his ideas struck me, because it is deeper than that. His books are filled with vignettes of real life told from many perspectives. Told for the purpose to share yet take us back to the wonder of being HERE and HERE NOW. I never stop thinking of the wonder life can offer us. It is my hope that the seeds can reconnect me with that wonder.

I am good at that. Seeing something in the mundane which makes me just stop. So I share it. One of the people I enjoy sharing with is a friend at work. Whether he is feigning interest or not, he seems to enjoy hearing what I have to say. I remember once taking my dogs into be groomed. On the counter was an aquarium. Fish, plants, rocks. I always marvelled at the efficiency and containment of those little environments. THEN I SAW THEM....frogs. Dashing from one side of the aquarium to another. I was mesmerized. I asked tons of questions. Mostly wanting to know where to get them. It was near Christmas so I figured Santa could bring me frogs! I was excited. They darted, they climbed, they soared through the water. How amazing to have a little bit of nature THERE on the counter of my groomer. Wow. I went to work & shared the frog story. He stopped what he was doing & looked at me. I paused for that OH CRAP moment....where you figure you are now sounding like an idiot and you should stop. He told me that it was a breath of fresh air to hear me find something amazing in what is around me, to see something fascinating in the every day. I blinked...I do? Yup, and don't ever stop. I had never realized that I did that. What a great trait.

I will say some of my greatest moments of humor have come from that sense of observation. Seeing what people do without thinking and see the funny aspects of it, wow, what an open invitation to laugh...both at others and ourselves. Like the guy who was sooo pissed that I cut him off on the freeway that he OPENED HIS DOOR to flip me off. That one almost made me STOP in wonderment. I could not believe that me cutting him off elicited such anger, frustration and basic hostility that he would risk his life to give me the bird. I still remember being on the phone and being speechless. I couldn't explain it then and I really don't think I covered it now...it really was amazing to see. And I created that reaction! What power.

Back to Robert Fulghum. His second book just solidified my affection for the way life should be viewed...It Was on Fire When I Layed Down. No lie. That is another book I bought just to find out where the title came from. I have read the story countless times and I still can't see how it happened. Typing this I remember having his books at my bedside to read a short story a night. There are some which will make me laugh so hard, my eyes squish shut so I can't read until I stop laughing. There are some which make me cry....even now I have a tingly nose thinking of them. There are some which you really don't see/feel the impact until much later. And there are some stories which just make you say "hmmm". I love the fact that his stories are everyday posts from life. Stories that make you wanna jump up with your hand raised and share a similar story. "OOOHHHH, pick me". I guess being up this early in the morning typing this is a reminder that I need to pick up the books and keep them at my bedside again.

The seeds haven't done anything in 6 hours that I can see. But you and I both know there is amazing little God stuff happening right now...on the wet paper towels....and I will be able to wonder at that little God stuff in the weeks to come....wow, how friggin awesome is THAT?

Be great to you!
H

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Daisy bit me....

Yes she did. But.....that wouldn't be the end of the story would it?

One entertaining think about pets and children is the torture factor. My sister showed me one day about putting scotch tape on a cat's ears...THAT was an amsuing 15 minutes. The dog we grew up with wasn't torturable. Serious. She had more attitude than I could ever claim!

Now we have 3 to torture. As of late, I have been engaged in a power struggle with my "oldest" Bo. If he leaves himself open, I get his bum in a head lock (yes that would make it a bum lock but I figured you wouldn't get it without the WWF reference). It is not often that I get him as he is fighting to save his bum. He twists out & turns to me in triumph (I swear) when he gets away. When I do get him in the hold, he struggles to get out & you can hear the frustration in his growl & bark. I pat his bum taunting my superior position. This enrages him. Eventually he gets out & turns & barks a "fuck off" as he jumps off of the bed. This is something Bo & I do. He knows it, he avoids me, I attempt to get him...it is something we do. I tried it with Daisy. Not good.

Daisy suffers from "little dog syndrom". She barks at the garbage trucks, busses and other assundry big noises. From my perspective I get it. She is so tiny and powerless against those HUGE things which she can't protect herself from. So I got her in a bum lock, patted her bum and she turned and bit my wrist. The boys just stared. Daisy ran off of the bed. Ran straight to Mike's office. She would not leave Mike's side.

I laughed at this. "NO BITE Daisy". All of my dogs know No Bite. Luke most especially as when we first got him from being a homeless fostered dog, he bit me and I did the No Bite thing. He bit me again. So I bit him. He just stared. The next time he bit me I bit him so he yelped a bit. He has never bit again. For the record, the only times I have been bitten were due to my own aggression and overstepping their limits. Daisy was just interesting to see what she did. Bo takes it in stride when he bites me...moreso leaving it to ME to figure out what I did to deserve it. Daisy still struggles...again I figure it is her only defense.

SO, she is hiding in Mike's office. I am on the bed and both boys are avoiding eye contact and strangely still. Mike is saying "Daisy go in there and apologize to her". I can hear her in his office....not moving. Me, I say "No Daisy, bad dog". Mike chastises me.

I hear her move into the hallway (hard wood floors before you ask how I know where she is) and I say again "No Daisy, bad dog". I heard her go back into Mike's office. I hear Mike attempt to console her. I just reiterate "No Daisy, bad dog". She won't move from Mike's room.

It truly went on for 30 minutes. I was intrigued as to the behaviors with the dogs. I realize they are dogs but sometimes the embarassment, shame, anger, affection, and pride is so similar to how we react that I am eager to see how things play out. Mike lectures me not to make them feel shame...but it is interesting how things look. When we first got the boys, I was introduced to shame. Bo had a "physical reaction" to something the boys were doing. I, never having owned a boy dog, was not sure if he had sustained an injury. SOOOO, I held him down with a damp paper towel to see if blood was on his peepee. Yah....no blood. Bo would NOT make eye contact...I could interpret his body language "MOMMMMMMM....gosh". Not long after that Mike said I had to stay downstairs...I asked why, and Mike informed me that Bo wa having a "physical reaction" and would not cross the hallway until I left. Yup....he had a doggy erection and was embarassed to have his momma see it.

Luke has a different kind of "je ne sais quois" way of looking at it. One day I caught the boys on our bed. I yelled and seperated them. I looked at Luke and said "You know the rules...not in Momma's bed and not near Daisy". Luke barked in response. I answered "I know it feels good, but there are rules". He looked at Bo then looked at me and barked. I countered "I know he likes it too but I don't want to see it and I don't want it on my bed and I don't want Daisy to see it". He ended his part of the argument with a few barks and trotted off. Mike observed all of this. "Um....how do you know what he is saying?". Obviously I didn't...but I explained that Luke is my talker and it seemed logical that he state his case to continue what he liked. So I went with it....and he still argues with me at times.

Now, Daisy and I were at a stalemate. I called her and she didn't leave Mike. For some reason she gets anxious when I say "Belly belly" (I think it goes back to the fear she has of getting a pink belly like Bo does). But she didn't come. The next thing I know I hear her come in to the bedroom (both boys looked up, I swear) and she paused before she jumped on the bed and went to her normal spot. She licked me and settled in. So, she knew what she did but didn't know how to get past it. God bless her she just faced the demon and just told me she loved me and things are fine by her.

Yes, they are dogs. I realize I am giving them human characteristics. I don't due this out of loneliness or missing children of my own...but as you have something under your care, you start noticing their actions and reactions just as they notice ours. And more often than not, I think we make both of us laugh.

Be great to you!
H

Friday, March 20, 2009

Vegas

I am home from Las Vegas with my lovely husband...and Mark Harmon & NCIS. Sigh.

So let me give a bit of background. We don't drink...well not alcohol. We don't gamble...well unless the feelings hit me & I will go more on that. We eat. Mike is a foodie. I mean past the Food Network stuff. There were channels on the HD spectrum that carried pretty intense food shows. And Mike watched them. And then stalked the chefs. Well, followed them through the internet to find out about their restaurants. We (me sometimes under duress....don't let me rant about the "acclaimed" sushi restaurant in PH after which and $150, I went to a buffet.) go to some of these much researched restaurants when we are in various cities. Being HERE in the somewhat foodie barren area of Utah, he is a frustrated foodie with limited glimpses of greatness in Vegas. We made the decision to go to Vegas in January....since then we have had multiple reservations at multiple places. As of late, Michael is struggling with his lack of robust family history in Coppola/Scorese ridden areas. His compensation is to eat...and he did.

When I move in between restaurants, I have watched many people. There is a gentleman who stands out. Now I am over 40 and pudgy so pretty much invisible to the younger set. We were in the casino heading out when I saw a young man with his friend and they were talking about what they were going to drink or hit on. All of a sudden he reaches down...I thought (hoped) he was reaching in his pockets...nope....boy was diggin. Pretty deep into his JUNK. Not sure that I could use that word appropriately until now...but he was digging deep in his junk. And I watched. He continued to converse, though I hesitate to call it multi tasking. I was within 18 inches to 2 feet away from him while he did this and all I could think of was he had NO regard for whomever was watching. That is the full scope of Vegas....doesn't matter what you do or to whom you do it or to what level you do it or how often you do it and finally who is watching...it is Vegas. Whether it is my age or moral level, sad.

Our first reservation was at Bouchon. I will go on record as saying I do not care for French food. Serious. No need for organ meats and sauces. Their bread and cheeses and pastries yes...but food...nope. So Bouchon is a French restaurant. It was a wifely duty. 10 floors up in the Venetian and a "plain old French Bistro". Mike was proudly wearing his authentic Mario Batalie bright orange Crocs as we asked to be seated. Our waiter was an amazingly engaging man who called Utah "Mormonia", and I fell in love immediately. Of course being a former Hag, he and I had alot in common! I ordered a salad which I spoke often about. Mike got French Onion soup. Thankfully no organ meats included. My husband was in heaven. The waiter suggested to Mike that if he was a TRUE foodie, he would NOT get the steak frites (steak & fries) as that was attainable everywhere, but he should have the DUCK. I of course somewhat goaded Mike into having it as well. I watched the two women next to us who were less fun and certainly less ambitious. They watched us pretty intently. Regardless of not liking French food, my baked chicken was amazing! I actually ate peas too! The meal ended with a dessert which I cannot describe. Mini brownies with homemade ice cream on them. But that does not encompass the joy. Then onto the old fart show which was the other part of my wifely duty (Jersey Boys) which is a musical about the life & music of Frankie Vali...yup THAT old. I did the dirty thing & trained my opera glasses on the boy who's face struck me. He and the brownies made the night great! OH...by the way....Mike ate the duck..."I would never order it again, but it was good to try"...you take what you want from that.

The next morning was the Carnegie Deli. Yes, like the one in New York. Before we went, Mike crawled into bed, hugged me & said "I was just on the Carnegie Deli websit looking at the pastrami". To which I responded "Honey, that is not foreplay!". So we walked and went. Where we met 2 other couples who were very interesting to talk to. Mike ordered borscht (yup, beet soup) because he wants another family history so that day it was Jewish. He also ordered the Reuben with corned beef. I can't describe the bomoeth proportions of the sandwich. The two couples we met marvelled at its size. I ordered a burger. Pretty unremarkable. Mike walked out of the deli without the leftovers shaking his head..."We have been here....no need to go again!". Check it off the list.

Dinner was one that I was looking forward to. There is a small Italian restaurant in Brooklyn. It is rumored to have catered to some of the mob. The owner enjoyed a few bit parts on The Sopranos. Last visit to Vegas when we were in the pregame warm up, I had noticed that Raos was opening in Vegas in Bon Appetit. We were lucky to have reservations opening week. We met all 3 owners (and got autographs) and I was flirted at by Frank, the very glamourous, distinguished, and charming owner. Never will forget that meal! I will honestly say I believe that Mike threw up all vestiges of the disappointing reuben to prepare for Raos. To me, what we ordered was GREAT tasting but of no consequence until the DESSERT. Ahhhh. I did have to struggle in not touching myself in public. Sigh.

Ending our food trip was up to me! Done with fancy schmancy food, I told Mike we were going to PF Changs. YUP. Something I could get in downtown SLC! Not caring. Just wanting lots of food that was familiar. So I got it. What we also got was dinner with the most engaging couple from Sonoma valley (Coppola connection) who loved Powell's and had just returned from Spring Training! No one else need to have applied as dinner companions of the Davidsons! Was the best dinner I had all week!

I will say, we ended our trip at a bar to see a concert. Now I am not a bar person per se. Not sure that I ever was. So I have little patience with bar people. But we did meet a great couple from Edmonton Canada & discussed the propensity of amazing celtic music coming from Nova Scotia. During the conversation, the guy mentioned that only in the US has he seen so many fake boobs here. I laughed. His girlfriend & I spent the evening in between songs, evaluating all of the women....real or fake.

I did lose patience and only ALMOST started a tussel. Laughingly my husband warned me that he didn't want to start any fights that night. My friends and I laughed at his chivalry. Hell yes....I may be old & pudgy but I will tell you I am still able to hold my own and can still give a stink eye which could stop words.

Be great to you!

Saturday, March 7, 2009

My STUFF

I talked about my desk both as a kid and now. My desks are my comfort zone. They are set up for me and to me. But it is MY STUFF.

Being married, I have always rebelled at MY STUFF all of a sudden becoming OUR STUFF. I am not talking about kitchen stuff, living room furniture, or tv's...I AM TALKING ABOUT MY SPONGE BOB SQUARE PANTS MOUSE PAD. Sorry I yelled. But leave my stuff alone.

I have found that my husband's tendency to procure things has become less than cute as time has progressed. When we married, I had a collection of Disney sweatshirts. Those were soon OURS. Not so much an issue until I found one of them in the trash "I don't wear it anymore". BULL SHIT....not yours to throw away! But he flashed his blue eyes & he FEELS he gets away with it.

SO my mom is dying...I am living in Oregon for 3 months to help. Husband is visiting from Utah. My dad is...well, dad. If I look at him now, I would say OCD and ADD. Every day he had a pattern in caring for my mom. He would get up, get her coffee started (set up from the previous night) and get her pills and water. Awwwww...you say. I guesso. But he was just a fanatic about it. 2 scoops of coffee, 6 cups of water. So, the husband leaves....that night the dad is FREAKING. "Where is the God Damned scoop?". When I say freaking, I do mean that. Drawers being slammed, cupboards being opened & closed, dishwasher checked...all with a vengance of someone under duress. I find another scoop & tell him how it will work. The new scoop would require him to use 3 scoops for 6 cups...his aged face looks at me "But where is the scoop?". I walk away and call the husband....yah he took it. He wanted something to remember Faye by....a fucking coffee scoop? My dad is going nuts and you took the ONE thing holding his sanity together as a keepsake? Yes, he says. I confess to the dad what has happened..."but the scoop? Ok Heather....."....shaking his sad little head. Inside I say...yah dad, the scoop.

So, same dying mother....different visit...probably earlier. I see he has a school picture of me when I was 15. I have hated the picture not for any other reason than it is in a really cheap green frame & I am wearing red...DOES NOT MATCH. And I can't figure out of all the kids and all of the school picture, why does my mom put THIS ONE out on her dresser. So the husband has it. INCREDULOUS I ask where he got it...your mom. WHAT? She is DYING...and you are taking her shit? I asked her if I could have it...she said yes...I like it. GOOD GOD MAN...youa re stealing from a dying woman. She gave it to me...it was simple to him.

Recently I have moved my stuff into the main part of the basement. I would LOVE to say there is a great reason other than I want to be on the computer AND watch tv. Sad, but I am currently addicted to NCIS...I picture myself as Abby, sadly I think our only commonality is Super Big Gulps. In this set up is my craft table. Had it for years. Other than a small stint as my dining room table, always has been my desk or craft table. My recently unemployed husband ANNOUNCES to me that he is using my "bench" for his tools! OH HELL YOU DIDN'T...that is my stuff. Yah...my craft table in MY area covered with (honestly) MY tools that he rarely uses. He had one day to remove them....as he did amiably.

The reason for this rant, vent, bitch or story, is the mouse pad. The other day I came home and smelled coffee in my bathroom and the counter was marked with it. Didn't figure it out until tonight. In the husband's office is MY Sponge Bob Square Pants mouse pad....OH NO YOU DIDN'T. Being on the phone with my sister I yell..."That is my God Damned mouse pad you put it back". His beseeching little face no longer works for me "But I spilled coffee on mine, you have another one"....not working, I cleaned up the spilled coffee. "This is the one I like, go get the shitty one AND LEAVE MY STUFF ALONE". My sister on the other end of the phone said "Why is he touching your stuff?". Exactly.

Imagine my counselor hearing this story. Histrionic, overreacting, and outside of normal communication boundaries. Nah...the husband lives in the land of OURS when it suits him. His stuff is nothing I want...OOOHHHH...am thinking right now I will take his autographed ball from some washed up aging baseball player AND put it on MY desk. LAUGH...he will freak. LAUGH. Talk about the land of OURS.

When you read about people born under the sign of Cancer, their things, home and day to day life are very important to them. We are nestlers. We view things which surround us as a comfort...a necessity for our balance. SCREW THAT...DON'T TOUCH MY STUFF...especially MY SPONGE BOB SQUARE PANTS MOUSE PAD....you have been warned.

Be great to you!
H

Integrity

There has been a backlash in support of integrity both at work lately and in the world. The word "accountable" has been so overused as of late that I am dubious that anyone knows what it is, how to do it and if they are themselves being held to the standard they are prosthelizing to.

It has offered me the chance to take a step back and evaluate my own disproportionate sense of right and responsibility. My mom told me a while ago that they didn't feel the need to discipline me as any punishment they would have assigned was nothing compared to the guilt, regret and remonstrations I would afflict on myself (though most assuredly my mom didn't use remonstrations!). She said I was over responsible as a child. I would ask before I crossed the street, call when I got there then called when I was leaving. Yah...I figure I was pretty bad in past lives.

On the day Nixon was pardoned by Ford (that just makes me laugh to type that, not due to the political maelstrom it represented, but just shows how damn old I am) I remember being in the principal's office for cheating (the irony is not lost on me...probably why I remembered it as of late). It was so traumatic to me that I cannot recall what I did, nor do I recall what the punishment was. I remember us sitting there watching the "event" on a global tv and in my little head was the catastrophic doom of what I had done. So, I wrote my mom a note. She saved so much over the years that I can't fathom why she didn't save THIS one. I know we were bussed but in my memory I was running home in that After School Special-type run with my book bag trailing me and the note in my hand. First struggle with this memory is that I have always been pudgy, and I am sure I didn't run even then. I throw open the door, tears streaking down my sweaty, dirty cheeks(cuz that is what they do in After School Specials) and ran to my mom. I remember her asking me what was wrong and I, in between sobs, gave her the note, apologized and ran out the door. Yup...still an overreactor.

Honestly I can't recall what I did or what my mom said. I can't recall a punishment. Nor do I recall what the school did. All I remember is I cheated and was caught. And I still torture myself...nah not really but it is there as a lasting memory.

In contrast, I was taking computer class in college (1985 to give you perspective on the computer class I was taking....I remember being baffled by a word processor a few geeky friends had me try...lol). I was living away for this year in the dorm...co-ed dorm (is pertinent to the story). We had to write a flow chart thing of sorts for an atm. The idea of the exercise was to learn actually how many steps had to be realized in programming. We had to turn in the paper to the professor to the box on his office door.

This was agonizing for me. Like I said, 1985. There were truly 3 computers in our smallish dorm. In the geek room. So up I trudged to see the boys. I remember Pete (who is now in the CIA) trying to help me, but I am sure doing it moreso at his level thus creating an explosion in my head. I remember toiling over several drafts to figure out this thing I couldn't get. Whether Ros told me or I just did it, I gave up & turned in the pathetic attempt figuring I would fail this but learn. So we walked through campus I turned it in, and I stewed.

4 of us were called after class to the professors office. I figured I really must have fucked things up. Yah....we were under review for expulsion for plagerism. I am laughing typing this now. All of those hours where I didn't know what I was doing...and it was on all 4 papers EXACTLY the same. I swear...as I did then to the professor...that the work was mine. He showed us all 4 papers and they were exactly the same, again I protested my innocence. He was dubious, naturally. I was catatonic. So he told us to prove it.

Looking back now, it must have truly been a difficult assignment as if these poor other people (who I didn't know) saw my ever so valiant efforts struggling confidently in the box as a salvation. Sad. I laugh at that. It was drama to me. Thrown out of school for plagerism? But it was my work! I went through the trash in my room and I went through the main trash in the dorm. I remember it taking a while but I am sure not as long as it is playing in my head now. But I found my pre works. I went to the professor's office (I am sure again with the distance to his office covered in the After School Special run) with I am sure a tear streaked (cuz even in college they do that) face with my proof in my hand. I would love to have remembered his face when I handed him the (YES) pizza stained proof that I had not only fucked up the project once BUT had rough drafts of previous fucked up attempts! Guaranteed in his head he was laughing. But he asured me I was exonerated.

I remember on the way home talking to whomever felt like being the angel of support who followed, being incredulous..."I was so wrong, why would ANYONE copy that shit?". To this day I am still baffled at someone else's sad insecurities that when they saw my paper, they changed it thinking it was GREAT! Laugh.

Integrity to me has become in tandem with rules. Codes of conduct, rights & responsibilities, and judges vs what it truly is....an internal gauge of what you will and won't do at your core. I struggle when my integrity is challenged....especially when it comes to caring for people. But I think it is something which starts young and is either built or destroyed by subsequent years and experiences. I hope that we get back to that. Currently to me...accountability is pointing to see who else can either go down with you or for you.

Be great to you!
H

Sunday, March 1, 2009

A gauge on your life...

Saturday morning I headed to work. I have a friend/co-worker who starts work at 5.45am...foul foul foul. I sent her a text asking what she wanted from The Sev (7-11). I knew what I was going to get....but I digress.

I recall when my sister thought it was funny that the 7-11 doors have locks on them. Now I remember a few things...FIRST...I was alive when the silly store was almost a luxury AND opened at 7am and closed at 11pm...so there really was a need for locks on the doors. I remember BEGGING my mom to get us Slurpees! Back then, you had two flavors and none of them had funky colors. I remember wanting to go into a 7-11 to get candy. OH GOD....the candy. There really were penny candies on the bottom row. Now I go in and I cannot find a Peanut Butter Twix unless I go to a specific Sev and I can only get it in the LARGE ASS pack. So 7-11 has a big history with me.

As kids, my brother and I were having a contest. I was partnered with his girlfriend and he and his friend were partnered. The first duo who drank the MOST Big Gulps won! Can't tell you the prize, but none the less it was a distinct motivator. Very motivating. I remember having probably 4 a day. We stacked up the spoils of our days in the window in our shared room. At that time, Big Gulps were $.69 (look there isn't even a cent sign on the keyboard...man that sucks!). During this competition...they re-introduced the SUPER Big Gulp. Seriously, people weren't rritating their tendonitis with the small coolers of soda they carry now! So when they re-introduced this new drink size, they put them down at the Big Gulp price of $.69! Yup...so what did we do? Had to correct each of the bewildered clerks and reinforce that YES we really wanted the smaller cup. By the end of the summer, I think the clerks on the corner of Garden Home road and Olsen road, stopped asking. Probably for the best.

I can't recall which group won, but I know that we had those stacked, faded and beat up cups in our window for a long time. As I entered more into my 20's, I figured WHY 7-11 was so busy at night....those burritos with the freakish green things in them....and at 3 in the morning, they were oddly appealing. Forget Area 51, 7-11 after bars closed is way more intriguing. As I became one to part take of those habits, it became clear. One night, haven partooken, I remember laughing for a long time about the burritos.

This Saturday, I laughed at that memory as I asked for "two Monterey Jack chicken taquitos" and along with my Super Big Gulp of Mt Dew has become a regular morning attraction. This Saturday I had received a response from my friend "Oh gosh, are you still there?" I reassured her I had not arrived and was most certainly prepared to take her order....Super BG of Diet Coke and Oreos. ICK....I asked her about the milk alternative to Diet Coke, but she was adament.

I went to the clerk with a few extras (PB Twix and Starbursts) and stopped before the counter...Dear GOD, I was going to need a bag...how embarassing! I mean really...how lame is your life when you NEED a bag when you leave the Sev? Pretty low. The shame meter rushed to the top and as I paid for my items I said in my defense "Yah...never call your co-workers and tell them you are at 7-11", with an awkward laugh, I boob-held my two Super BG's and my bag of stuff and waddled to the car.

I will attest that the taquitos have odd little red things in it but being more sober and coherent, I feel way less desperate when I eat them in the mornings. But I do check to see if they still carry those scary burritos that the stoners eat in the mornings....yup...still there!

Be great to you!
H