Don't You Love

Don’t you love it when you get done with work and errands and all to-do list items, and you don’t have to do anything else but lie on the couch and watch parts of “Hercules” and the first half of "Can't Hardly Wait" from underneath a down comforter? Now I’m not saying that’s what happened this evening*, but it’s pretty great when it does.

Don’t you love it when you eat a granola bar at your desk at work, and then you leave and come back and see granola crumbs ALL OVER your office chair making it look like a gremlin was just there eating with his feet? (No, I haven’t actually seen “Gremlins,” why do you ask?)

Don’t you love it when you find a shirt you forgot you have in the back of your closet, and you can bust it out like you just got some new clothes, walking around like John Travolta in “Saturday Night Fever” with your new/old clothes attitude? (No, haven’t seen “Saturday Night Fever”- is that not what he was happy about?)

Don’t you love it when you’re at the grocery store and you spot something like THIS on the shelves of the dairy section? I love this country.

God bless America.

Don’t you love it when you come home to find that big red envelope in your mailbox? Netflix has arrived! And it contains “Pushing Daisies,” which is fun, but why on earth are there only THREE episodes to a disc?! Three? Really?

*Yes I am.

Valpal

This is supposed to be Val... but she's on holiday. (I say that because it makes me feel British.) Val was actually HERE for 5 days... but now she's at a staff retreat. That's kind of like a holiday... with team-building. ANYWAYS... Did you know that we've been blogging together since 2007? Ridiculous. A lot can change in 4 years. Here's a personal fave by Valpal from back in the day. Enjoy.

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OVERDUE LETTERS from AUGUST 2007

Dear Schick,

Remember when my little brother cut his face open with one of your lady razors? I know you felt bad, but it really wasn't your fault. What five year old boy wouldn't want to try and shave his face with his mother's razor while in the shower? We heard him crying and I was sent to check on him. When I screamed at Mom that his face was bleeding, not only did she literally jump out of her shoes, but I could swear that she left a little cloud of dust behind. In fact, I think as she ran, the background started repeating over and over and her legs turned into those giant circles. Of course he was fine, though he still has a scar from that little adventure. Don't worry, the family will not be bringing about a lawsuit as a result. We realize now that a five year old should never be left alone with a sharp razor in temptingly close distance.

Not your fault,
Valerie

Dear Hellmann's,

One time my sister and I were left alone to clean the kitchen after dinner. This included rinsing out the jars, cartons, and other items to be recycled. Now I don't think Ginger had a full understanding of physics yet, because when she turned the water on full blast andstuck the mayonaise jar under the faucet, she didn't exactly expect the water to come shooting back out at her. One good squirt and she was covered with a substantial amount of mayonnaise-y water. Oh, and did I mention that Ginger hated mayonaise? Because she did. A lot. So needless to say, this travesty was about on par with being covered with vomit.

Now the scream Janet Leigh let out in Psycho? Has got nothing on my sister at that moment. A few of the windows in the kitchen actually cracked from the sound. It wasn't long before she had sprinted out of the room, stripping off her t-shirt as she ran. Soon after, I heard a door slam and the water start running. Naturally a travesty of this magnitude warranted a shower so that she could be cleansed of all traces of the mayonnaise. I know this doesn't sound good for you guys, so I just wanted to write and tell you that this event was not a reflection on the quality of your fine product. Just yet another example of what it's like to grow up with an overdramatic sister (though to this day I still believe it was just a detailed ploy to get out of cleaning the kitchen and leaving me with the rest of the dishes).

Don't take it personally,
Valerie

Paper Jams and Green Beans

I’m sitting in a training meeting. I feel as if this guy is speaking in a different language while discussing quantum physics. He’s been brought in to talk about the new fancy copier/scanner that can do just about anything. He has an audience of 12 of us and I was apparently the only one shocked that this meeting would require more than 10 minutes of time. I started out listening and even followed him on clearing paper jams…but now I am obviously not learning about paper weight restrictions. That’s the last three words he said and I’m now tuning this out again. I probably look like the best student in the room. I’m the only one who looks to be taking detailed notes. I nod my head from time to time and look up. I think I’m very good at looking like I’m paying attention.

I wonder, should I feel guilty for my behavior? I don’t think so. I’ve used the copier a total of 10 times in the last year and a half. I don’t copy the bulletins or coloring sheets.

I’ve decided to let go of guilt. Granted, some guilt is healthy and brings repentance…but then again some guilt is self-imposed. Therefore, I will not feel guilty for the following:

-Not exercising every day. I’m so over this. I will not become a sloth sitting on my couch, but I will not feel personal pain over working and then going to class and then coming home and crashing. OVER IT.

-Counting down the minutes left to go in my college Spanish class. 1 hour 23 minutes and 12 seconds left in this class. 1 hour 22 minutes and 58 seconds left in this class. 1 hour 22 minutes and 39 seconds left in this class.

-Not eating the frozen banana flavored waffles that have been sitting in my freezer since November. They were purchased by a guest who has to eat gluten free food…that doesn’t me I have to.

-Staying on the couch for 3 straight hours after arriving home from work on Sundays.

-Throwing everything away. I don’t save tickets, playbills, dried flowers.

-Not throwing away every letter or card ever written to me that has more than “Happy Birthday” written on the inside.

-Having a Diet Coke…whenever I feel like it, and none of my family members in the dental field will be able to convince me otherwise.

-Not liking green beans. The End.

-Lack of knowledge regarding memorabilia. I don’t know the name of the coach, the player, the team, the lead singer, the actor, the character name, the location. Don’t know and doing just fine.

-Over capitalizing words. Sometimes I just Enjoy Emphasizing things for GOOD measure.

-Having writer’s block. It’s real and ugly and rears its head as soon as I have any sort of a creative deadline.

-Wearing clothes forever. You can nominate me for “What Not to Wear.” I don’t care.

-Indulging myself in blog entries. Who really wants to read lists...and yet...

I Don't Eat That

I was listening to the NPR news quiz, “Wait, Wait…Don’t tell me” as I hiked this weekend and heard a story that hit close to home. The question, or should I say limerick, described the picky eating habits of some children.

At one point in my life (or at least 15 years) I was a picky eater, and my brother has continued to carry that title for his entire life. I’ve since outgrown most of my eating oddities, but I do not believe that my brother ever will. For instead of adding food to his repertoire as he grows, he seems to maintain the status quo over the years.

My sister is not innocent of the picky charge either. I believe that all three of us at one time in our childhood actually gagged on a vegetable at the table – and probably green beans. Always a great way to eat your veggies…maybe the 2nd time down could be the charm. After all, isn’t that what cottage cheese is anyways? Chewed up and spit out cheese? I wonder why it’s called cottage cheese? Maybe the cheese makers chew it up and spit it out in a cottage? No THANK YOU. I am not a baby bird.
And now, finally…we have been vindicated thanks to an article in the New York Times by Kim Severson.

Researchers examined the eating habits of 5,390 pairs of twins between 8 and 11 years old and found children’s aversions to trying new foods are mostly inherited. The message to parents: It’s not your cooking, it’s your genes. The study, led by Dr. Lucy Cooke of the department of epidemiology and public health at University College London, was published in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition in August. Dr. Cooke and others in the field believe it is the first to use a standard scale to investigate the contribution of genetics and environment to childhood neophobia. According to the report, 78 percent is genetic and the other 22 percent environmental.

For the full article check out.
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/10/10/dining/10pick.html?_r=2&hp&oref=slogin&oref=slogin

Just thought I would set the record straight for all the family members who give our eating habits such a hard time. We got them from you.

Overdue Letters

Dear Schick,

Remember when my little brother cut his face open with one of your lady razors? I know you felt bad, but it really wasn't your fault. What five year old boy wouldn't want to try and shave his face with his mother's razor while in the shower? We heard him crying and I was sent to check on him. When I screamed at Mom that his face was bleeding, not only did she literally jump out of her shoes, but I could swear that she left a little cloud of dust behind. In fact, I think as she ran, the background started repeating over and over and her legs turned into those giant circles. Of course he was fine, though he still has a scar from that little adventure. Don't worry, the family will not be bringing about a lawsuit as a result. We realize now that a five year old should never be left alone with a sharp razor in temptingly close distance.

Not your fault,
Valerie


Dear Hellmann's,

One time my sister and I were left alone to clean the kitchen after dinner. This included rinsing out the jars, cartons, and other items to be recycled. Now I don't think Ginger had a full understanding of physics yet, because when she turned the water on full blast and stuck the mayonaise jar under the faucet, she didn't exactly expect the water to come shooting back out at her. One good squirt and she was covered with a substantial amount of mayonnaise-y water. Oh, and did I mention that Ginger hated mayonaise? Because she did. A lot. So needless to say, this travesty was about on par with being covered with vomit.

Now the scream Janet Leigh let out in Psycho? Has got nothing on my sister at that moment. A few of the windows in the kitchen actually cracked from the sound. It wasn't long before she had sprinted out of the room, stripping off her t-shirt as she ran. Soon after, I heard a door slam and the water start running. Naturally a travesty of this magnitude warranted a shower so that she could be cleansed of all traces of the mayonnaise. I know this doesn't sound good for you guys, so I just wanted to write and tell you that this event was not a reflection on the quality of your fine product. Just yet another example of what it's like to grow up with an overdramatic sister (though to this day I still believe it was just a detailed ploy to get out of cleaning the kitchen and leaving me with the rest of the dishes).

Don't take it personally,
Valerie