Customer Service
Lately it seems I've had lots of interaction with Customer Service situations. I've made some observations.

1. TOO MUCH
The other day I walked into CompUSA and I barely set foot inside the store when a group of SIX employees immediately turned toward the door, and upon seeing me, they ALL had to greet me with an over-enthusiastic hello. Wouldn't it be good enough if just one of you said hello? Three of them then asked me if I needed help with anything. I said no and walked to the back of the store. Whatever I was there for was not in the back of the store, but I just wanted to get away from the gang of attention that had bombarded me at the door.

Not 3 minutes later, another employee walks over to me and asks if I need any help. I said no, again. Then right after I paid for my purchase and turned to go out the door, TWO MORE employees who were sitting in an office, away from the door, having a conversation, STOPPED their conversation to tell me to have a nice day.

I'm a little weird about employees offering help in a store. If I need it, I will ask. Obviously you work there. There is no need to hunt me down and try to help me. I will come find you. And I probably won't need attention from all 13 of you at once.

2. TOO FAST
For Father's Day, I went to church with my parents at their church. I arrived a few minutes earlier than I intended, but I was okay with this because as a Visitor I get to park in the Visitor parking spaces, and I would get prime pick of the spots closest to the door (for my escape later). BUT, I couldn't get to the very first space because two men were standing in the middle of the row and they didn't move. So, rather than run them over (I was at church, after all), I pulled into another spot and got out of my car.

That's when I discovered the purpose of these two men. No sooner had I shut my car door behind me, Parking Lot Greeter #1 was at my car, handing me a large 4-color glossy brochure about the church, and giving me detailed instructions on where to find a group of ladies at the Information booth who would then help me to anything I needed inside the church. Seriously, it was an Attack Greeting. The church has moved greeting from inside the actual building and they are now proactively grabbing people in the parking lot before we have a chance to drive away again.

Fortunately I saw my parents drive up before he could sign me up as a lifetime member during my first 30 seconds in the parking lot, so I told him I saw who I was meeting, thanks very much, and I headed inside. Actually, I hid behind a cement pylon to watch for my parents to get to the door, so that I wouldn't be greeted by anyone else. I held on to the brochure. I figured if I kept one in my hand the whole time I was there, no one would try to give me another one. They would all see that I had been sufficiently greeted.

3. TOO BAD
More often than not, it seems like Customer Service is just really bad. I understand it's not a fun job, and it probably isn't all that rewarding to answer calls from unhappy people all the livelong day. But it's not our fault. And obviously if we could help ourselves, we would love more than anything not to have to spend time with you on the phone in an unpleasant conversation.

The other day I finally decided to call about my cable internet service. It goes in and out all day, everyday. But I've put off calling about it because that means I have to make time for the Customer Service people to come to my house between 8am and Never to see what's going on.

But, I called. And the guy I got on the phone would not stop talking long enough for me to describe the problem, or ask a question, or for me to answer any of his questions. I would get one word in and he would go off on a tangent about something computery that I don't care about. Then he started scheduling a time for the technician to come to my house without even asking me when a good time would be. Then, I told him when I was available and he said he couldn't schedule that far ahead because the calendar only goes ahead two weeks, so he would have to put me on the schedule for a time we both know I am not available, and then I would have to call back in a few days to reschedule and hope that their calendar could look that far ahead.

Sometimes I think they just make this stuff up because I hear a different story every time.

I never have a good experience with SBC (now AT&T). I had to call this week to clear up some stuff for my church's phone line. I was dreading it. It took two of my lunch hours. The first time I called I was passed around to 4 different people, because even though they send you ONE bill with internet and phone charges on it, to clear the entire bill you have to talk to separate departments: internet, then phone. I had to explain the situation at least 4 times. The last time they put me on hold for so long, I just had to hang up so I could go back to work.

And you when you are on hold, you literally have no control. They could leave you there forever. You can't even push a button or start talking and say, "Hey, I have to go, so are we making any progress? Are you coming back?" You can't even keep the progress you've made after being on the phone for an hour. If you have to go, or hang up, you have to call back and start completely over.

Madness.

And don't think that putting me on hold keeps me from talking to you. I talk while I'm on hold. I ask you where you've gone. I ask you what you are doing. I even ask you out sometimes. If they happen to be recording me on hold, I imagine they are probably leaving me there longer because they are getting a kick out of how mad I am getting while I'm on hold.

All that is to say, I do have one favorite example of good Customer Service. Every time I go into a Quik Trip gas station store, I walk out feeling like they know how to treat customers. One person will greet you when you come in, but they are not hovering around waiting to do something for you after they see you've entered the store. They are fast when they ring up your purchase. They don't hassle you or try to sell you more stuff than you want while you are in the store.

And the best part is this: When you leave, they say "See you next time." Every time. That is what they say. And you know what? I find that really pleasant, calming, and it makes me want to come back again.

Why? Because they didn't ask me to come back. They didn't pressure me to return, or make some false cheesy gimmicky statement. And what they said is absolutely true. The next time I am there, they will see me.

And yes, Quik Trip. I will see you next time.

C.T.

Uh . . . Wimbledon?
I woke up this morning, looked out into my backyard, and I saw three tennis balls in a variety of places in the yard.

The nearest tennis court is probably at least a mile away.

Naturally, I can conclude one of two things:

1. It rained tennis balls last night.

2. Those Wimbledon tennis players can hit the ball REALLY far. And they're not very good. My backyard is definitely outside the white line.

C.T.

America's Got a Freakish Idea of What Talent is
So, I'm watching the wannabee American Idol show, America's Got Talent. I've seen a total of about 17 minutes of it and I have yet to see any actual talent.

- "Cool" tap-dancing guys who are "cool" because they have product in their hair and torn jeans.

- Leonid the Magnificent, who is the tallest thing on the planet, wears angel wings and body glitter, and who somehow makes all of that even weirder by balancing, then dropping, then balancing a sword on his face

- Several people who can't sing

- A girl who plays the harp and sings for like, 15 seconds. It was the airiest voice I have ever heard, but the British judge dude said it was absolutely magnificent. I think he might not hear so good.

- A "cool" magician who is cool because he wears sunglasses and has rap music

- A guy playing guitar and singing through his legs

These people sit in the audience and wait for Regis to call them up, and then Faux Simon, Affirmative Action Paula (aka Brandy), and The Hasselhoff make comments and vote.

I don't even know who this Faux Simon guy is. Simon's brother? He's not even as mean, so it's not nearly as fun to watch him.

And, really. Hasselhoff? This is who we pick to be the judge of America's talent or lack thereof? The guy whose only talent is to run in slow motion in a swimsuit on a beach? It's funny to hear him judge whether people can sing or not. Heee...

Oh wait, now they brought back Leonid to "have a conversation" with him to decide if he has enough talent to come back to the next round. Apparently, America has talent if you can talk your way into it.

But this guy is Russian, so really he shouldn't be on the show. And America still has NO talent. But now Leonid is BACK on the show to put more body parts in peril with that sword.

I'm going to go ahead and say right now that it is my new goal in life to be the Non-Celebrity Judge-of-the-People on every "talent" show on T.V. Someone needs to represent the common man. I am a MUCH better judge of talent than your average Actual Celebrity Judge.

- American Idol? Put me in there next season after Randy, before Paula. I will speak truth and give the perspective of the voters, since what the judges actually say doesn't quite tap into what people are actually voting for.

- So You think You Can Dance? I can't dance. And I know it. But I know bad or annoying dance when I see it, and I know better than to attempt to dance in public or for a prize of any kind. And I would LOVE the opportunity to rid the world of a few more people who can't, in fact dance. And who don't, in fact, have rhythm. Let me judge.

- Last Comic Standing? I'm no comedian, but I'm really freakin' hilarious. But what's more important is that I know what is and ISN'T funny. And being so personally and naturally funny, it is hard for other people to make me laugh on purpose. Few standup comics have ever ellicited a chuckle from me. So, sure enough I am more than qualified to whittle the lot down to who should be the last comic standing. Let me judge.

- America's Got Talent? Put me in there next to Prandy (Paula-Brandy. Seriously, she has been taking notes from Paula. She has standing-ovated like, 17 people in the 17 minutes I've been watching) and let me talk some sense into these people. I actually AM America, you see. So, let ME be the judge of if we have talent or not.

People, my talent actually IS JUDGING!! I am NATURALLY GOOD AT IT. I practice a lot. Therefore, I should be on EVERY judging show. No matter the genre.

I don't want to see a guy balance a motorcycle on his chin. THAT IS NOT TALENT! That is weird. And it's not safe.

Safety first, people. Talent second.

C.T.

PS: Why does it increase the probability of talent to beatbox with your shirt OFF, as opposed to on and fully clothed? Is part of the talent actually the shirtlessness? I just don't understand.

Even after a long day of work. . .
No matter how you look at me, I'm still googly-eyed.









Thanks, dad, for pointing that out to the worldwide interweb.

C.T.

P.S. It has occured to me that I may have damaged some of the mystique of being The Tyrant by posting so many pictures of myself in my blogging habitat.

Oh well.

Apparently this is what I look like when I blog



Yep, genius at work.

C.T.

Yep
Blogging with the Macbook is SOOOO much better than blogging with the old PC.

It's like I've made a fresh start in life over the past two days of having the Macbook.

It's just absolutely liberating.

And, it's just really, really pretty.

This is the first laptop I've ever owned, so I'm pretty sure I'm going to accidentally drop it and break it into a million pieces any second now.

It's also the first computer I've ever purchased. My dad usually hooks me up with his old ones when he gets a new one. I've had my PC for about 5 years or so. Maybe longer. It's been a good machine. 7.92 Gigs of hard drive space, God bless it...

But, everyone should get one of these Macbooks. Seriously. Go get one right now.

It will change your life.

I've adopted a child from China
People say it's really hard and stuff, but I just ordered him or her (I don't care which. I will be happy with whatever God blesses me with) on the internet on Saturday and he or she will be here by Monday. With a credit card, you can order just about anything on the internet these days.

I do have a picture.



Isn't he or she absolutely adorable??

He or she left China on Tuesday. By now, he or she is somewhere in the States, soon to arrive at my door.

I can't wait!

I plan to have a long and happy life with him or her.

Welcome to America, my son. Or daughter.

C.T.

Be still my heart
So, I'm a little bit obsessed with The Discovery Channel. I watch it pretty much all the time. (I even clicked over during the really scary moments of Game 6 tonight. Turns out, the whole game was scary and sad... but The Discovery Channel helped me through it.)

I love The Discovery Channel so much because I am a huge nerd. I love shows about how thing work, or places I've never been, or things I've never seen.

Plus, I found my two new boyfriends:

1. Mike Rowe



He hosts a show called Dirty Jobs and it is AWESOME. I think I love him.

2. Danny Forster



He hosts Extreme Engineering, and not only is it like, one of the most super cool shows ever, he's super cute. And I think I love him, too.

Super cuteness mixed with super smartness mixed with shows that make learning stuff fun?

All over it.

C.T.

Well, at least I know it isn't me...
I watched Game 3 and Game 4 with a bunch of friends last Tuesday and Thursday. The Mavs played terribly in both of those games and they lost miserably.

Naturally, I figured it must be me. Something cosmic about my presence with friends was affecting the Mavs in Miami. So, tonight I watched at home. For the team.

But no. Turns out, it is JOSH HOWARD calling a timeout FOR NO GOOD REASON with 1.9 seconds left in overtime and a Dwyane Wade free-throw still to come.

Yep. Nothing at all to do with me.

C.T.

My Take on Basketball
Don't get me wrong, I love basketball. I'm watching the Mavs. I'm a fan. I even played basketball in school. I know the rules, I know some of the players, I know strategy. I can watch intelligently. I do enjoy the game.

But my take on it is this: We don't really need to halves to the game.

In fact, we should just get rid of the whole first half entirely. It's not necessary. It essentially has no bearing on the outcome of the game. You can be winning at halftime, and still lose the game. You can be down by 20 points at halftime, but come back to win in the second half.

In the meantime, it wears me out to watch 4 hours of basketball just to find out who wins the game in the end. Plus, it's just too stressful.

So, I propose this:

1. Get rid of the first half.
2. Don't even start with halftime. Everyone hates the halftime show anyway. Just get rid of that, too.
3. Start both teams with 50 points.
4. All players start with 2 fouls.
5. In place of a first half and to get everyone warmed up, start with a game of HORSE.

I estimate all of this lasts about 2 hours. So, if a game starts at 8:00, we can all be in bed by 10:30 at the latest.

Now, don't get me started on overtime. I hate it (like I'm watching right now in Game 5. It just totally stresses me out and keeps me up way past my bedtime).

BUT, since we obviously can't end in a tie, we have to do something. So, instead of playing another 5 minutes of overtime, end in a game of PIG. It's the same as HORSE, only a shorter word that takes less time to spell.

It's genius.

Now, back to the last 1:29 of overtime... if I can stay awake.

C.T.

This one's for the Dads out there



Happy Father's Day, to my Rad Dad, and all the dads out there.

From your dad-appreciative Tyrant,
C.T.

Two things that made me a nerd this week
I do lots of things every week that make me a nerd. This week there were a couple of extra things.

1. I bought a new water sprinkler on Wednesday, and I was so excited about it that I almost couldn't wait until Friday (my next designated watering day) to use it. It targets the smaller areas of my yard that are not best served by my other sprinklers that go for distance.

It was a wise investment. And totally worth the wait until I could try it out yesterday.

2. Today, Phoebe #4 and I went to the local auditions for The Amazing Race Season 11. We were going to send in a tape, but I forgot about it before the deadline. Fortunately, I saw online this week that TAR was coming HERE. How could we pass that up???

We wore our matching Team Phoebe shirts, ate Brazillian food before we went, and we successfully followed a map to get to the location of the auditions. All things that are good signs that we would rock on the show.

Honestly, though, it was kind of anti-climatic. As much as I love reality TV and I have a lifelong dream to be on reality TV, we were in and out of the audition in like, 10 minutes. We already had our applications filled out. There was not a line. We just showed up, they handed us a number, and 5 minutes later we were standing in front of a guy with a camcorder, telling our story.

It was a bit unsettling. I felt a little "off" once the camera started. It's hard to sum up into just two minutes all the fabulous reasons why they would be STUPID not to put me on their show. But, we did have matching shirts. So, we've got that going for us.

Afterwards, we found out that Season 11 of TAR will be a race acros North America. I'm hoping that's not correct. I mean, IF we are picked, I will still totally go. But, I hated the family season when they stuch everyone in Tahoes and made them drive all over the country. I'd rather see the world. But, shoot. I'll take what I can get. If they want to put me on TV in a Tahoe, sign me up.

Also, just as we started taping our two-minute audition, the local news station set up their camera and started filming us filming our audition. So that was a little distracting. But, we did make the local news tonight. In our matching shirts. Because we're awesome.

So, at this point in my life, my fifteen minutes of fame is at 1.2 seconds.

I've got a ways to go.

PICK US, TAR 11!!!

But if not, I do have that cool water sprinkler to entertain me.

C.T.

Funk in an elevator
Smellin' it up when you're goin' down...

I work in an office building that requires me to ride in an elevator several times a day to get to and from my cubicle home-away-from-home. After two years of this, I think it's time that I point out a few things of an aromatic nature.

Because...

The elevator is NOT your personal space. We all have to spend some time in the elevator at some point during the day, which means we all need to treat that shared space as kindly as possible. Thusly, there are things that might be okay for you at home (perhaps), or in your car (gross), but that are NOT okay in an elevator under any circumstances.

Examples...

1. SMOKE
Obviously it is illegal to smoke in an elevator. But, several times during the week I get in an EMPTY elevator and I am overwhelmed by the stench of smoke that someone has left behind from her most recent outdoor smoke break. And that is NOT OKAY. Fine, if you need the smoke break. I am not going to deny you that. But for goodness sakes and out of consideration for the rest of us who may not smoke or may not want to smell like you do, take an extra 5 minutes after you finish smoking, walk around the building and AIR OUT before you bring your smoke-infested self into our shared elevator.

And really, if you smoke so much that by spending 10 seconds in an elevator you manage to infest that space with the smell of smoke so much that it lingers long after you've LEFT the elevator just because of the smoke contained in your clothing, and that smell in turn clings to everyone else who enters the elevator long after you've been in it, you might consider cutting back a bit on the cigarette habit. Just a thought...

2. FARTS
This is almost a more serious issue than the smoke because it is SO disgusting. And seriously people, in an office building, aren't we all adults??? I mean, really. FARTING IN THE ELEVATOR?? And then LEAVING for someone else to walk into a contained fart bomb? Seriously, who does that??? Fart and run...

Whether you are doing it on purpose, or you just forget that you are not at home and you let one rip, please know that even we if we don't know WHO you are, we all know WHAT you've done. Farts do not disappear very quickly when they have nowhere to go. If you fart in an elevator, rest assured that the people who get in the elevator after you leave have been assaulted by your offense long after you've moved on from it.

And this, my friends, is NOT OKAY.

C.T.

PS: For those of you who know where I work, please do not come to my building and fart or smoke in the elevator next week just because you think it's funny. Although actually, that would be kinda funny. But kinda weird. And I would have to pretend I didn't know you.

New Rule
I am no longer allowed to watch 48 Hours: Mysteries at home alone, at night, ESPECIALLY on a school night.

IT'S SCARY!! BECAUSE IT'S REAL!!! IT MAKES ME AFRAID TO GET OFF THE COUCH!!!

This rule is in addition to the currently standing rule of no scary movies at home alone at night, especially on a school night.

C.T.

Water Restrictions are lame. And dumb.
Within the past few days, my city has enacted Level Three water restrictions, due to drought and no rain and apparently not having enough water in the lakes. "Level Three" makes it sound all serious and stuff. The basic rules are this:

1. I can only water my yard using a sprinkler on trash pick-up days, which for me is Tuesday and Friday.

2. I can't wash my car, hose off the driveway, or the house, or basically put water anywhere that isn't grass or lansdscape.

3. I can water my foundation using a soaker hose any old time I want, or I can water my landscape and yard with a handheld sprayer any old time I want, if I want to stand there and spray water at the dirt for hours on end.

4. No watering between 10am and 6pm.

I mean, I'm all for water conservation. I already adhere to most of the rules anyway. I don't water between 10 and 6, I don't wash my car (that's what the carwash places are for, people!), and I don't usually wash my house (except now that I CAN'T wash it, birds have decided to poop all over my back door and siding. It's like they KNOW I can't do anything about it. How do birds poop sideways, anyways???)

But, I oppose city enforced water restrictions. The restrictions seem to not actually save water, and serve mostly to make the whole yard watering process frustrating and difficult. Which, maybe that's how they win in the end. People are so frustrated with the restrictions, they just give up trying to water anything, thus saving water.

Anyway, my reasons for being anti-water-restrictions are severalfold.

1. I can't water during the day (see Rule #4). I'm at work anyway. So, I either have to get up earlier to turn on the sprinkler, or water in the evening, on my designated days. But, I'm not usually home on Tuesday or Friday evenings. So, if I miss one, does that mean I can't water again until the next Tuesday or Friday? My lawn will not survive a whole week without water. But my lawn should not be punished for me having to work at night sometimes (or not wanting to get up early.... ever).

2. Since I can't necessarily be home every Tuesday or Friday night, I think we should get to pick which two days work best for us to water. Who are you to tell me which days my lawn gets water? Rude.

3. Every street has at least a few people who just never water their yards, no matter if restrictions are in place or not. They don't seem to care if their yard looks like crap. I, however, enjoy a nice, green lawn. So, for every neighbor who routinely goes all week without watering, I should get an extra day of water that week. Right? Technically, they have instructions to water two days a week, but they CHOOSE to forego their water ration. Therefore, I should get it. It's only fair.

4. If there is bird poop on your house, you should be allowed an exception to hose it off.

5. If my lawn gets so dried up from these water restrictions that it doesn't come back anymore, the city should have to buy me a new one. FRONT AND BACK!

6. If it were up to me, I would water my yard every two to three days, for about 30-45 minutes in each place where I move my sprinkler. I have a timer on the hose so that even if I leave the house or forget about the sprinkler, it still shuts off according to whatever time I set it.

BUT, now that I can only water two days a week, I actually water LONGER on those two days. And I water EVERYTHING on or near the grass to make sure ALL of the grass is getting watered. Which means sometimes the concrete gets a little more watered than it should (even though that's against the rules), but since I now have limited time to get EVERYTHING watered, I can't spend as much time fine-tuning where my sprinklers hit. Which means, I'm probably actually using MORE water in my efforts to work around the two day a week mandate. This seems to be the OPPOSITE of the goal of the water-saving restriction plan, doesn't it?

Basically, I applaud efforts to conserve water. There are responsible ways to water and still have a nice yard and landscape. But, I don't think the city should get to tell me when and how to water.

It just causes too many problems for me. And I'm too chicken to cheat and water on the wrong day. Everyone on my street could water on the wrong days, water the house, water the birds WHILE they poop on the house, and have a waterfall in the front yard. But the FIRST time I would water on the wrong day, I would be the one person on my street to get caught and hauled off to Water Restriction Prison to be made an example of to the community of bad, very bad, water behavior.

I'm kinda thirsty now, with all this water writing. I'd better go check to make sure I can drink water on Mondays.

C.T.

Critters
Every year, it's a new critter at the Tyrant's house.

Squirrels that don't belong
Birds that lose their heads
Cats that dig up stuff
Frogs that get tangled in my weedwacker (somewhere there's a post about that)

This year, I've got rabbits.



This is the big one. He bops around my backyard. I will call him Bopper. There's also at least one other tiny one. They seem to live underneath my shed.

I just want it to be known that at the time of this posting (and at the time of this photograph) the rabbit was alive and well. I am going to GREAT LENGTHS to be in no way responsible for any untimeley catastrophe that could possibly happen to these rabbits, should anything happen.

In fact, the other day I went so far as to stop my car in the street a few houses down from my house, get out of my car, and personally walk the tiny one to the curb because he refused to get out of the road.

I saved his life that day.

Remember that. Always...

I swear I am a friend to the critters.

C.T.

I like old stuff
A few weeks ago, my parents and I took a roadtrip to visit my Mamaw. She decided it was time to go through the stuff in her house. So, we went to help her clear out some stuff and get organized.

Here we are.


This trip was actually a lot of fun for me. Well, maybe not so much the part where I got to climb around in her attic with the spiders and endless boxes and bags of Christmas decorations that I'd never seen before...

But, it was fun to see and touch our family history. And funny to watch my Mamaw try to come up with a reason why she keeps all the random knick-knacks we sorted through.
I'm telling you, BOXES and BOXES of stuff she didn't know she had.

A few things are really memorable. Mamaw keeps an envelope of all the notes and cards each of her grandkids have sent her over the years. I don't think she had all of them, but she still had quite a lot of them. My sister's envelope was the biggest. She was great about writing notes and sending drawings and stickers. All of her stuff was VERY decorated and much of it made very little sense. But, to my sister when she was a kid, I'm sure it all made perfect sense and was something very important that she needed to communicate to my grandparents.

My envelope was a decent size, but with MUCH fewer notes than my sister. An obvious testament to who the people person was in the family. All of my notes were meticulously printed out, with the exception of a few notes in cursive. Obviously practicing the fine skill of perfect cursive writing.

I sat with my Mom and Mamaw and read through the notes. They are HILARIOUS. I started almost all of them with the flat statement "I want to tell you this." And then I go on to state something very matter of factly - whether it was the big news of the day, or what I want for Christmas, or whatever. No stickers. No drawings. Nothing fancy. All very brief. Not sure when I learned the art of LONGWINDED writing, but it certainly wasn't during my elementary school years.

Apparently 1982 through 1985 were big years for losing my teeth. I sent a note to my grandparents for every big tooth-losing event. One of the notes ends with "My daddy is the toothfairy, but he says he isn't." Nothing gets by me! Sorry, dad. I knew all along...

SO FUNNY!

Then there was a dry spell of notes from me until, um, just a few years ago. My Mamaw loves notes from her grandkids. I need to send more notes. I know I'll get them all back one day, but they make her happy now.

I also uncovered what may be my earliest recorded poem. But, I'll save that for another time.

HILARIOUS...

We went through boxes and bookcases and closets and cabinets. Pretty much every little thing in the house. My Mamaw would tell stories about all of it. It was a nice walk through family memories.

Plus, I came home with some pretty sweet stuff. Like I said, I like old stuff. Preferably old stuff with meaning. One really cool thing about my house is that a lot of my stuff is family stuff, and that means it has a story.

Of course, my Mamaw knows I like old stuff. So, it was tough to not come home with everything that was old, just because it is "old". She would come out of the back of a closet with some old piece of junk, just to ask if I wanted it because it's old.

It's important to clarify. I like old stuff that is good stuff. Don't dump your junk on me.

Among the coolest stuff I brought home are some of the toys that all of the grandkids used to play with. I remember playing with this stuff. My Papaw used to build stuff in his woodshop - furniture, toys, stuff. He also had a friend who made some toys for us. I found some of them in the attic. One is a red barn. It still had all of the animals and pieces.

I brought home a couple of wooden puzzles that my Papaw made. One of them took me awhile to put back together when it fell out of it's rubber band that was holding it together. My Papaw was one smart dude.

A couple of items are now lawn decorations in my backyard. One is the baby buggy my mom rode in as a baby. It doesn't have the basket part, so really it's just the wheely part. But, now it's a flower holder thingy on my patio.





The other is the first watering can my Mamaw bought when she and my Papaw had their first house with a yard. I planted Brown-eyed Susans in it, also now on my patio.





I scored one of my Papaw's watches, some of his achievement pins from when he was in highschool, and the stone from his Masonic ring (which I may use to write a novel about a code and Da Vinci or something).

I also ended up with a few of my Papaw's pocket knives. I'm not exactly sure why, but I've been really fascinated with these. It just kinda personifies my Papaw. He never went anywhere without this one specific pocket knife and a tiny wrench in his pocket. I have both of those. Plus a larger knife. And then, there was this knife:



It surprised me to see it sitting in a box full of his pocket knives. I'd never seen it before. Neither my mom nor my Mamaw can remember him having it or ever using it. The knives he used were Old Timer brand knives - good, America knives. A Swiss Army knife is out of character for him.

The knife is used, so it would seem he did used it at some point. I've cleaned it up. I've also contacted Swiss Army to see why my name is on it. They say the only way an official Swiss Army knife can be personalized is through a company ordering personalized gifts for employees. Not sure I buy that, but whatever.

My Papaw had Parkinsons for several years, and he's been gone for about 7 years. So, the knife has been around for quite awhile. I don't know how he came by a knife with my name on it, or why he never gave it to me. But, it's pretty cool to have it now.

Otherwise, I ended up with some sweet old books, the world's largest and oldest dictionary (apparently there used to be more words in the English language and we have since decided we don't need that many anymore - but I intend to use ALL of them for Scrabble), some sweet thermoses, some old flashlights (that still work - they are probably 50 years old) from the paper mill where my Papaw worked, the meat grinder my Mamaw's mother used in her kitchen, the wooden paddles from my Papaw's fishing boat, and some other random stuff.

I like bringing home pieces of family to my home. Makes my home feel more like home.

And shoot, who couldn't use a few good pocket knives? For bear hunting and whatnot.

C.T.

Gravedigging
Not that I've ever put any serious thought into how I would go about burying a body in my backyard, but over the past month or so I have spent some quality time in my yard, digging holes to plant things, moving other plants around, and generally playing in a lot of dirt.

Today I moved some bulbs from one place to another. This required digging some holes.

And today, I came to the conclusion that I could never kill anyone and bury them in my backyard. Or in anyone's backyard, for that matter. Because quite frankly, digging is really, really hard. And I'm not good at it.

Digging is a skill that I did not realize is hard to come by. As much as I putter around in my yard planting things, you'd think I'd be a much better digger.

I'm not.

A hole for a plant is (depending on the size of the plant) not that big. Today, after digging a few holes for some bulbs, I realized that if I had to dig a hole 6 feet deep and just as long, I'd never make it. It just wouldn't be possible.

I don't know why I thought about this, except that it dawned on me that it would be fun if my neighbors were watching me dig all over my yard, wondering if I was perhaps, burying someone. Like in the classsic Tom Hanks movie The Burbs, or something very Desperate Housewives.

But I'll tell you right now, I don't have the energy, nor the attention span to dig for that long. It was tough enough planting all those bulbs today.

So, if you ever wonder if the Tyrant has ever killed anyone and buried someone in her backyard (or any backyard, for that matter), rest assured that I have not, will not, cannot.

If someone you know is missing, don't look here. I'm terrible with a shovel.

C.T.

Deodorant Update

Degree Super Duper Really Little Black Dress Clear Extra Protection Pure Rain scent


OUT!!!!!

One down, 108 more to go.

C.T.

So.... deodorant
We all need it, but who among us actually likes it?

There comes a time in every young girl's life when eventually her deodorant will stop, well, deodoranting. Our pits grow accustomed to whatever brand of deodorant we have used thus far, and it becomes time to do something we ALL dread...

Find a new deodorant.

First, deodorant is a very personal thing. It's a preference. We choose a scent we like, a brand we like, a type we like (gel, solid, semi-solid). All of these factors work together to create our personal comfort in the pit department.

You can't have a deodorant that doesn't work. We can't go walking around in tank tops and sweaty armpits. You can't have a deodorant that smells stronger than you do. Nobody likes smelling your deodorant before we smell you. It should be a silent, trusted, hidden, non-confrontational partner in the neverending quest for good hygiene.

So, when your trusted partner suddenly fails you one day, it creates a situation in need of attention. It's tough to let go of the one we've trusted thus far. It's disappointing. It's heartbreaking. You feel betrayed and abandoned. But let's face it, it's not like there aren't a million other options out there to take the place of a deodorant gone bust.

For guys, it's pretty simple. You have much fewer options:

scented, nonscented, and Old Spice.
Blue can, red can, or Old Spice.
spray, nonspray, or Old Spice.

For the ladies, much like most other things in our lives, the deodorant department provides TOO MANY options. It's ridiculous. And, difficult.

For one, there are too many scents. Seriously, people. Who sits around and thinks up these scents for deodorants?

Baby soft
Shower fresh
Sporty clean
Peachy keen
Raspberry delight
Raspberry delight lite
Daisy fresh with a hint of herbal mint

And honestly, NONE of these smell like anything I want to smell like. Sporty clean? What does that even mean???

So essentially, choosing a deodorant scent that is something you can live with is really just picking the lesser scent of a 108 more evil scents, and hoping whatever body wash or perfume you wear can out rank it.

And really, you have to try just about ALL of them to find one you can live with. You have to spend days, even weeks, smelling weird and tempting your armpits to freak out and be sweaty at the most inopportune times, all for the sake of adjusting to a new deodorant. You can't raise your hand if you are not at all sure that your test run of Degree is really going to work out for you today.

And see, "shower fresh" for Secret is not the same as "shower fresh" for Lady Speed Stick. Yet, I was pretty comfortable with Secret shower fresh, so is it a safe bet that Lady Speed Stick shower fresh is comparable?

You'll never know unless you try.

Now, this whole business of "sheer", "clear", "ultra-clear", "little black dress approved", and "see-through" is just crap. Sure, deodorants have come a long way from the days of flat white chalk that gets on everything in a ten mile radius of your armpit. But seriously, you have to wear a nonexistent layer of ANY deodorant for it to come even close to testing as truly "clear". And I'm here to tell you that it takes just a bit more strokes of the deodorant to keep these pits dry.

Can I get an amen?

It takes a very special balance of not too many strokes of the deodorant versus enough for it to actually work all the livelong day. It takes years of practice to accomplish this. Clear, sheer, or otherwise.

Don't tell me it's clear unless I can pretty much put on 10 or so layers and still see right through me. Ladies, to whoever can invent a TRULY white-proof deodorant, you will be my hero forever.

So, how do we choose a new deodorant? What's the process? It takes a serious combination of determination and perseverance. But basically you have to start with buying 10 to 12 different brands, varieties, and scents of deodorant, then begin testing a new one for a few days, one by one, until one is "the" one.

If one works, but smells weird? It's OUT. If one doesn't work, but smells okay? OUT. If one works, smells ok, but leaves white marks all over your black shirt like when your highschool teacher used to transfer the chalk from her hands to the butt of her pants EVERYDAY... it's OUT.

There's no easy way to get results, people. You just have to save up some money, and dive in.

And what do you do with all of the sticks of deodorant that don't work? Nothing to do but make a very careful list of the failed products (and possibly a chart and a graph of the results) and then trash them.

Sad, but true. It's not their fault. I'm sure they work for armpits somewhere in the world.

But not mine. Not today. Not ever.

And yes, I just wrote an entire blog about deodorant. Read it, learn it, love it.

C.T.

This post came to me while at church
Sometimes I blog in my head. But that doesn't mean I'm not listening. Make of it what you will.

I've realized that being labeled a "Christian" doesn't necessarily make us better to our fellow human beings than those who might not consider themselves "Christian". We still hurt those around us. We are still hurt by those around us. To quote Eric tonight, we are imperfect people loving each other imperfectly.

I struggle sometimes. I want to hold "Christians" to a higher standard. We don't get to treat people that way. Jesus told us not to. Is that fair? We preach what is good and right and love. Yet we still fail people in what is good and right and love.

I leave church, and I still yell at people who cut me off on my drive home. That is neither good nor right nor love.

We don't know all the answers. We don't do everything right by each other. We don't even know what we mean, or even all agree upon what is good and right and love.

But we have to forgive others who have hurt us. And we have to forgive ourselves for hurting others.

Regardless.

C.T.

Dear Capital One No Hassle Card,
The fact that I get an application from you to sign up for you at least every week of my life.... THIS SERIOUSLY IMPEDES YOUR CLAIM OF BEING 'NO HASSLE.'

You might consider a name change. Or stop hassling me with your credit card applications all the livelong day.

Sincerely,
C.T.

I have to give props
I haven't been able to blog much lately because my internet at home is on and off the fritz at random. I should get that fixed...

But tonight while I can take a few seconds to blog from an undisclosed location, I choose to use this valuable time to give props to my dear friend "I'm kinda over softball" Kerri.



Tonight, on a night when she wasn't even going to play (she tried to back out last minute....), she showed up, swung the bat twice and HIT THE BALL TWICE. Then she topped even that much amazingness by CATCHING A FLY BALL IN THE OUTFIELD like it was no big deal.

I was so happy, I forgot to keep playing and I ran out and hugged her. Then we realized the ball was still in play.

It didn't matter.

Kerri, way to finish a random season and a random rain-out make-up game. You out-played us all.

Looking forward to more of the same next season.

C.T.

I'm still mad about gas prices
I went on a road trip with my parents over the weekend to visit my Grandma. More on that later.

But, I just need to tell everyone that I found gas for $2.69 in several places, one of which was Tyler, TX. Yet when we got back home, gas was still $2.95 here.

WHAT IS UP???

There is no reasonable reason in the world why there should be a 30 cent difference in gas prices from one city to the next.

And the sad thing is, we were really excited to find gas at $2.69, as though that is cheap.

It's not cheap. It's ridiculous.

C.T.

I talk about moggy Africa, too
This will make my dear Friend SJ's head explode.

So I met someone from Capetown, South Africa this week. In Chicago, of all places. We had some lovely chats. I learned a bunch of fun phrases. I liked to hear her talk. It was almost Britishly, which I love.

Moggy = crazy (ie: She's gone quite moggy.)

Loo = Bathroom (I already knew that, but she used it in sentences like it's not a funny word)

Knickers = underwear (ie: I went to this place called Victoria's Secret, and I spent $108 on two bras and some knickers.)

Blast = some sort of curse word, I think (ie: Blast! Why do knickers cost so much in America?)

Conversely, when I talked about cracking the window in my hotel room to let in the cool air from outside, she was quite concerned that I'd actually cracked (broken) a hotel window. I assured her the window was fine.

That's pretty much it. I just wanted to be the one talking about blastin' Africa for once.

C.T.

Get Milk
This is a public service announcement.

If you live in Texas (or anywhere that has a little ice cream chain called Braum's) and you do not buy your milk at Braum's, you are both wasting money and buying inferior milk.

A coworker of mine turned me on to the wonders of Braum's milk. We will call him Coworker A.

I resisted for awhile. It's an extra stop after I've already been to the grocery store, and I just don't readily try new things. But I tried it once a few months ago and I quickly found out that the pros FAR exceed the cons. In fact, there aren't any cons to buying your milk at Braum's.

1. It's cheaper.
Today I paid $1.54 for a half gallon of milk. Genius.

2. It lasts longer.
The date on the carton is May 18. I bought it today. That's at least a week longer than any date I could find on a carton at the grocery store. So, I paid less for milk that will last longer. Yup.

3. It's on my way home, and even if I leave from my house, it's right around the corner.
This may only be a pro for me, but it's a dealmaker. It's closer than the grocery store, and I only have to go there about twice a month anyway, since the milk lasts much longer than grcoery store milk.

4. IT TASTES NOTICEABLY BETTER THAN GROCERY STORE MILK.
And I don't even drink milk. But I tell you without hesitation that Braum's milk makes my cornflakes taste like little flakes of heaven. Or manna from heaven. Whatever.

It's GOOD.

5. Customer service.
I walk in, I am greeted by the sweet Mom or Pop that runs this particular franchised store. I grab my carton of milk, I head to the counter. They put my milk in a PAPER bag. They send me on my way with a smile.

In and out of the store in 30 seconds or less, PLUS it was a pleasant experience. Very small town here in the big city. When is the last time the milk guy at your big chain grocery store said anything to you??

So, there you have it. All the right reasons to stop buying your milk at the grocery store and start buying it at Braum's.

Great taste, less expensive, lasts longer.

Do it now.

C.T.

One step closer to being famous
This weekend, I came out of retirement to revive my acting career.

Didn't even know I had an acting career, did you.

It started in the first grade when I played Mary, mother of Jesus in the church Christmas pageanty thing. My mom says I picked my nose in front of everyone. I don't remember that. But if I did, it was only because I'm pretty sure with all the dust and dirt of the day, Mary probably really did pick her nose sometimes. And how do we know she didn't pick? I was in character.

Later in my career, I played Aunt Polly in my 4th grade Tom Sawyer play. I was an amazingly convincing old lady.

I was the Ghost of Christmas Past in Jr. High. I was told that my dancing in front of the strobe light while costumed underneath a sheet was like no other strobe light dancing ever before in history. Ever.

I've also played Calamity Jane, bringing great height and depth to the "calamity" of her name.

And, in highschool I portrayed a riveting protrayal of Martha (of Mary and Martha) in the church Easter pageant. They didn't give me any speaking lines, but I didn't need lines to be Martha. I just acted.

Then, I took an early retirement. I went to college, graduated, took lots of random jobs, which brings us to the present where I have now been asked out of my acting retirement to bring the joy of my acting back to the world.

My dear BFF Friend E has been directing James and the Giant Peach at a local church. She called upon me this week to play a very important and pivotal role in the play.

So, after just two rehearsals, followed by two performances, I think it is safe to say that I was probably the most amazing, fabulous, and definitely the prettiest....

Crowd Person #1..... EVER.

It all came back to me as though I had never left the stage. The lights, the laughter, the applause.... the drama, the moment, the character. I don't like to think of it as "only" four lines. I prefer to think of it as the MOST IMPORTANT four lines in the play. And probably in the history of the world. EVER.

Plus I got to move the peach pit scenery around, and make birds fly on a pole.

It was pretty sweet.

Thanks to my BFF for giving me the opportunity to remember my dream of being a world-famous actress. She's by far the best director I have ever worked with in my entire life. EVER.

She should, like, go do that as a profession or something.

C.T.

My newest crusade
Not that I had an "old" crusade. So maybe this should just be called "crusade".

I am seriously unhappy about the gas prices. SERIOUSLY UNHAPPY. The whole thing is ridiculous. El MOL shares my sentiments. It's just going to be a really long, really expensive summer at the pump.

AND THERE IS NO GOOD REASON FOR IT.

Case in point. The average person in a car does not make $48.5 million dollars in a year, and will not retire with another $98.5 million on top of that. But according to this article, someone does earn that much money. Check this quote:

“The former CEO of Exxon-Mobil just received a retirement check for $98.5 million after earning a $48.5 million salary last year," said Rep. Don Manzullo (R-Ill). "At the same time, Americans have to dig deeper and deeper into their pockets to fuel their cars just to get to work. It's outrageous, and our government needs to get some answers from the oil companies.”

So I'm thinking, raising gas prices to $3 or $4 a gallon really isn't bothering this guy on his drive to work everyday, especially considering he is retired and doesn't have to drive to work anymore.

And then I thought, maybe these oil company CEOs just don't realize how much they make in comparison to the average person in a car. And maybe they don't realize how much these rising gas prices hurt us, everyday, just trying to get around our lives.

For instance, according to DallasGasPrices.com, last year at this time, the average gas price was $2.12 a gallon. Even that price is outrageous, but compared to today I'd gladly pay $2.12. At 15 gallons to fill up the Jeep, last April I paid around $32 to fill up.

Today at $3 a gallon, it costs $45 to fill the tank. And they say prices will continue to go up. So, say we reach $3.50 or even $4.00 this summer, I could be paying $60 to fill up the Jeep, which is almost TWICE as much as I paid to fill up last year. And thinking even further back, when I bought the Jeep in 2002, I could fill up for $25 or less.

Now, am I also making TWICE as much money as I made last year? Um, no. Definitely not. Am I having to drive less to make the money I do make at about the same rate?

Um again, no. I'm driving the same, if not more, just to pay the bills. And now I'm having to pay a whole lot more to get there.

Now, some people say the answer to the whole gas price ridiculousness is to stop buying gas from the large oil companies, or stop driving as much, carpool, or get a more fuel-efficient car. All of these are good ideas. But for me, none of them are practical. I carpool when I can. But in reality, none of these things are truly going to bring gas prices down on a large-scale, nationwide scope to ease the suffering of Americans everywhere.

We are at the mercy of the oil people, and we should not have to DRIVE LESS to afford a tank of gas.

So, here is my new crusade. Or just "crusade", if you will.

First, my day job involves mail. Lots of mail. I work in direct mail fundraising, which means I am trained to create mail that encourages money out of people for good causes. I do this everyday.

Next, everyone has seen Shawshank Redemption, right? Remember the part when Andy writes a letter a week to some legislator, asking for funds for a library. He does this for years. And finally, he is rewarded with tons of books and a check, and a request to please stop writing so many letters.

It took a long time, but he got more than what he asked for.

Well, I am borrowing from Andy and I'm about to do the same thing, for as long as it takes. Or until I get bored. Whichever comes first.

Meet Rex W. Tillerson:



He is the current Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of Exxon Mobil Corporation. And he's about to start getting a whole lot of mail from me.

According to the LA Times, Rex got a raise last year of 33%. He now makes $13 million a year, including salary, stock stuff, yada yada. All of it.

Now, I don't make anywhere near $13 million. In my entire lifetime, I will likely never see $1 million, much less $13 million. And my wee raise last year was closer to 33 dollars than 33 percent. So the way I figure it, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me that with every tank of gas that I put in the Jeep at constantly increasing prices, this guy is making more money, while I am having less money.

But, I realize that Rex is not responsible for the entire situation as it is today. I know that writing him a letter a week will not actually change gas prices.

So, what I am asking for is help FOR ME. I'm sorry, but you people are on your own. It's something small and reasonable for a man worth millions, yet something big and helpful to an average car driver like me.

I figure that at $45 a tank, filling up (on average) 5 times a month, I'll be spending an extra $65 per month on gas over the next year, compared to what I would have paid at about this time last year ($2.12 a gallon). Over 12 months that is $780.

Of course, that's betting that gas will not rise above $3 a gallon, and would stay just at $3 a gallon for the next 12 months. If it reaches $3.50, that amount increases to as much as $1,230 more I will be paying for gas over the next year. And should gas hit $4 per gallon, I will be paying as much as $1,680 more over the next 12 months than if gas stayed around $2.12 as it was a year ago.

Yikes.

Including the cost of one stamp per week for the next year (I will throw in the paper and envelopes for free), that comes to right at potentially $1,700 that Rex and people like him at other big oil companies will cost me over the next 12 months for doing nothing other than driving per my usual driving habits. That doesn't even count an occasional roadtrip or any out of the ordinary driving that might happen over the course of a 12 month period.

So, my weekly letter to Rex will be simple. I will recognize that he cannot solve these horrendous gas prices on his own, and that I am not expecting my one letter to cause a revolution, or to cost his company any money. I am sure Rex is doing the best job he can at effectively running his company, at searching for alternative fuel sources, and looking for ways to ease consumer prices at the pump as soon as possible. At $13 million this year, I know he is worth every penny for a job well done.

But, if he could just find enough loose change in his couch cushions, or if he has just a bit of extra cash lying around that he could send to help me out at about $1,700 towards covering an increase in my personal gas expenses over the next year, that would be a big help.

And I would even buy all of my gas from Exxon, just to show him no hard feelings.

Thank you, Andy Dufrane. You are my inspiration.

C.T.

How to move church pews
A tribute to a little blood, a lot of sweat, and a few tears that will forever be known as... The Day Our Church Moved.

We moved our church to a new location over the weekend. I say that to some people and they think that's an odd thing to do. True, most churches don't just pick up and move. And they especially don't move with a U-haul and a lot of volunteers.

But, we did. Yeah, pretty much the whole church was there. And given that's a total of about 20 people or so, it was a pretty amazing thing.

We moved from a second floor space that has been our home for the past 6 years or so, almost since our birth as a community. Now we live in a new space on a first floor.

Thank the Lord for first floor church!

The pews we own have been a thorn in our side since the day we took them into our possession. They are quite a beast to move. They used to be bright orange. At least now they are pretty and redecorated. But, they are still a beast to move.

I didn't have to move them. Lots of boys did. I just took pictures. I found that to be helpful.

It went something like this:

1. Move the pews out in the hall, one by one.


2. Confirm that yes, the pew is in fact, in the hall.


3. Heave the pew into the narrow, twisty stairwell.


4. Proceed with the pew down the narrow, twisty stairwell.


5. Contort around the corner with the pew, and head out the door in to the light of day.


6. Proceed onto the truck with the pew.


7. Deposit pew.


8. Repeat 7 more times.

Thank goodness for strong boys.

The new room will be great. We are working hard this week to finish setting it up. But, I am sad to leave the old place. It was home.

Plus, I don't like change.

I won't say I've spent more time up in the old room than anyone else. I think our band probably wins that category. But, I think I can say that I have spent more time up there than the average person in our church, and at more odd hours than most people. I've spent A LOT of time in that room, working, doing my staffly duties over the past almost 5 years. Lots of memories. And lots of changes experienced in that room.

I first took on my administrative job when I was unemployed. I would go up to the room in the middle of the day and do such glorious tasks as straighten the room, check the mail, and clean candle wax from all over the floor. Scoff if you will, but I have a lot of fondness for our church's candle wax. I found it strangely therapeutic to scrape the wax.

For awhile, someone who later became Friend A to me would join me up there in the middle of the day, just to scrape wax with me. I never did figure out why she asked if she could come help me with that specific task. But, those are good memories and I'm thankful for those moments.

Later, I moved my staffly durties to evenings after I got a real day job. I would work all day, then a few nights a week I would go up to the church and work. This is when I discovered what a frightening place our room was at night, alone, in the dark. Creepy noises. Dark, narrow hallways. No one around for miles to hear me scream....

It was during those evenings that I was glad that I am a ninja.

But overall, my time spent in the room was memorable in good ways. Once I opened the door to find a bird in the room, flying around. I'm pretty sure he was diving at my head. I let our pastor at the time know that the bird was in there when I left, and I left the bird removal to him.

I remember several nights walking into our room and discovering water gushing out of a ceiling leak here or there. Good times.

I set off the alarm in the office more times than I can count. I punched in that code THOUSANDS of times, but every once in awhile my mind would draw a blank. More good times. That is a frightening sound when you are up there all alone at night. Scared the bahjeezus out of me every time...

I freaked out over too many room rearrangements. I always thought the room was just fine, and then someone would get the idea to move everything around, and I would have to spend the next month or two finding a new comfortable place to sit.

I've watched people come and go from the church, as well as from my life. I've seen relationships begin and end. I've seen other relationships start and get married.

I've seen pastors leave, a new pastor come, and the strength of a community of faith withstand it all. I've seen God at work, no matter what's gone on in that room, or how the room has affected me or the people in and out of it.

I've seen God a lot in that room. Through people, through the gatherings, through the community. I've grown a lot in that room. I've experienced great joy, lots of laughter, genuine love. I've also experienced heartache. I've cared greatly for people I've come to know and love as a result of meeting in that room, and I've been cared for greatly by the people I've come to know in and out of the room. I've met some of the greatest people I've ever known as a result of my church that started and grew in that room.

I stood last night in the room for our last service as we took a moment in the room, empty of furniture and candles, just to be there. One last time. I saw faces of people who weren't there at the beginning. I missed faces of people who weren't there last night to experience the end of that room for us.

The room looked empty, but it didn't feel empty. I still saw God.

I wasn't there for the very first service in what is now our old room. But I'm glad I was there for the last one.

Peace and closure, and hope for what is to come. And thankfulness that we won't have to move those pews again for awhile.

And may we especially never forget the most important thing that we left behind...


C.T.

My human worth
Because this is totally and absolutely real...

(Thanks to JLay for this entertaining link at Humansforsale.com)

Apparently I am worth $1,969,280 if I were to put myself up for sale.

Highlights:

I was actually docked $10k for having a size 10 shoe. Apparently it's not desireable for the ladies to have big feet?

I earned ZERO dollars for having, um, non-big boobs.

I thought having zero cavities for being 30 years old would pay big bucks, but that's only worth $5k.

I earned $0 for being in the Marketing profession. Um, thanks. My livelihood is completely worthless....

I earned $0 for being an excessive tv watcher. Whatever.

My excellent sense of humor? Worth only $65,000.

But considering the highest valued female today is worth $2,968,140, I didn't do too bad. The average worth for a female is $1,666,031. So at least I beat that. I'm above average.

If only I watched less tv, I'd be worth more in the marketplace...

C.T.

The gift of time
So I've been given the gift of time again this morning, waiting for the air-conditioner repair guy to come fix my a/c. I waited til 11:30 yesterday morning before they figured out they couldn't fit me in until today.

It's weird. I feel like I never have enough time to get stuff done. You know, the random things that you don't want to take time to do, even though they don't take much time to do. Like, put up laundry. Hang a picture. Clean the kitchen floor. File papers stacked all over my floor.

I didn't expect a broken air-conditioner this week. I mean, really. Who does? So essentially I've been given a gift of time as I wait around at home. I can't run errands. I can't do any office work from home. I'm just stuck here with time on my hands.

I don't know what to do with it. I could put up laundry, clean the floor, empty the dishwasher. Later in the week I will be annoyed that I don't have time to do it, and that it's not already done.

But, I really just don't want to do any of that right now. Yet, I'm going a little stir crazy. Not because I don't LOVE downtime. I do love it. A lot.

I just feel like on a Thursday morning I should not be home in my sweatpants with nothing to do, when I am not even sick. I should be at work. I should not have to be wasting a perfectly good personal day on such trivial things as my broken a/c. I mean, it's not like I could even sleep in late. I had to be up early on the off chance that the a/c guy showed up early this morning.

Ha!

But, fortunately I have found a few entertaining things to do this morning.

1. I watched the episode of Alias that I taped from last night.
2. I made coffee. Not much in this world makes me happier than making coffee and sitting in my chair to drink it.
3. I caught a few minutes of Christian MOL preachers Benny Hinn and Steve Muncie on tv. And kids, this just about made my morning all by itself. I was mesmerized as Muncie looked me right in the eye (through the magic of tv) and told ME to go to my phone RIGHT NOW and call and give $200. No, $2,000. No, he really believed that I needed to call and give $20,000! He promised an immediate blessing if I did so.

So, then I reached for my phone. I mean, this sounded like a great idea! And they were talking directly to me! And shoot, who doesn't need a blessing??

But then I caught myself. I remembered why I am home this morning. I am waiting for the a/c guy. And I remembered that I will have to give him some money (hopefully not $20,000 or even $2,000). And my immediate blessing will be the blessing of cool air.

4. I decided to come blog instead.

A/C guy? Where are you?

C.T.

I woke up this morning and everything was fine
Then I got home around 9:30 tonight and learned that everything is not, in fact, fine.

My house was really hot when I walked in. Turns out that my outside a/c unit just isn't working, but the inside unit has probably been running most of the day, not cooling anything, and running up my electric bill. It was working fine this morning. Sure, it's 108 years old. But why die today?

Once I decide there is nothing I can do about it tonight, I go to my kitchen to look for something for dinner, now that it's 10:00 at night. I see ants crawling all over my counter. They weren't there this morning. Why come into my house today?

After I get rid of as many ants as I can and I spray some ant kller stuff, even though I can't tell where the ants are coming into the house, I keep looking for food. Then I remember I haven't been to the grocery store in two weeks, so I don't really have any food. And I don't want to cook anything anyway because it is really hot in my house. So I settle for carrots, chips, and hot tamales for my dinner.

Then I try to check the website of the a/c guy I will call, but my internet isn't working. Then it works for like two minutes. Then it stops working again. When it gets really hot outside, my internet goes in and out. Great.

I've got the attic fan going, both my front door and my back door open, and every ceiling fan blowing in the house. It's actually not too bad in here. It's supposed to cool down outside tonight. I'm sure I'll be fine.

Of course, I can't sleep with all of the doors open, unless I want boogey men and woodland creatures to come in my house during the night. So, I'll have to shut the doors, which means the attic fan won't work as well without the moving air in and out of the house.

And really, the attic fan sounds like there is a plane taking off inside my house, nonstop. So, I probably won't be able to sleep with it on anyway. Which means after I turn it off, the house will heat up again.

So when I get up tomorrow, I'll still have ants, and a broken a/c, nothing to eat, and it will be the beginning of a very expensive day.

C.T.

PS: As I type this, my attic fan just shut itself off. Is that supposed to happen? Are attic fans supposed to just give up?

It's going to be a long night.

Shopping with Daria
It's not that I don't like dresses. I do. I just never think to buy them. And I'm much more comfortable in jeans and t-shirts. Or cargo pants.

I loves me some cargo pants.

But over the past weekend was an event that was cause for not one dress, but two dresses. This meant I would need to call in reinforcements to dress me. This is a big deal for me.

My sister was our professional family shopper. She inherited that gene from my mom, who is the matriarch of our family shopping. The two of them have helped me find appropriate clothing on a number of occasions. When my mom and I shop these days, we think of my sister. It's not like the mall was her mecca or anything. But shopping without her seems wrong sometimes.

Me? It's not that I dislike shopping. I'm just not good at it. I'm great at bargain hunting. But not so much good at putting together outfits and whatnot. And, I prefer to shop alone. Which doesn't help with the outfits and whatnot because when I only have my own opinion it's hard to talk myself out of bad outfits and into good ones.

Sometimes I just don't know the difference.

I also get stage fright when it comes to shopping with people who can see me shop. I prefer to shop where I know I won't run into people. I think I carry a secret fear that people I love and respect will catch a glimpse of what is in my shopping bag, realize I picked it out all by myself, and they will be mortified at what I have done and promptly ostracize me from their lives because I am bad at shopping and I have chosen an outfit that people should not be seen in even if they are the last clothes on earth.

I don't even like for sales people to talk to me. It makes me nervous. I don't need their help (even though I do). But I want them to go away and pretend I am not there. I'm afraid they will look at whatever I intend to try on and immediately gather all of their salespeople friends together to point and laugh as I think about putting on the one outfit in the store that does not match itself.

Over the years, I've gotten better about shopping. I think my sister left me with a bit of her shopping ability to live on here on earth. But, when it comes to dresses or fanciness of any sort, I'm just no good.

Fortunately, I have lots of friends who are good at shopping and can make up for my shopping shortcomings. I am definitely in no short supply of good shoppers. It's the "letting them help me shop" that's usually the deal breaker. I know where to go for help, I just don't complete the task of letting them help.

A couple of weekends ago, I did finally let myself let some friends help me. Actually, I just whined enough about not having anything to wear to the wedding that eventually a couple of my firneds picked up on my plight. Friends K and JW were kind enough to take me shopping for the sole purpose of outfitting me to attend a wedding and party afterwards. Dresses were tried on, jewelry was chosen, we rewarded ourselves with a fine dinner. It was a good day.

And after all was said and done, I ended up with one fabulous dress that they helped me pick out. And then I was able to piece together another skirt-ish outfit on my own, after the afternoon of their shopping tutelage. I tend to do okay when I am shown what to do. I can learn.

Of course, Friend K said the whole thing was like shopping with Daria.



And strangely, I take no offense to that comparison. Because really, are we sure I can't just wear nicer cargo pants to a casual wedding? I mean, really.

Ok, not really. I know better than that. But still. If I'm going to buy a dress, it had better be a dress everyone likes to see me in for the next 108 weddings or so. Because I am going to wear it to all of them. And you will like it. And then in a few years when the dress is in rags and out of date anyway, we will do this whole painful adventure again.

Fortunately, both of my outfits were a smashing success throughout the wedding extravaganzas, hindered only by the ridiculous sunburn I earned the day before the wedding.

I mean, sometimes I'm just an idiot. I worked really hard all week to have perfect, alabaster-and-freckle shoulders to go with my perfect dress so that my fabulousness at the wedding would do nothing less than blow everyone away. But then I had to go and work in my yard too long in a tank top, and then all of my carefulness was for naught.

I had an obscene, blatant sunburn that could not be hidden by the fabulous dress.

But, sunburn aside, the shopping trip paid off. The outfits were a success. Topped off with shoes from Friend E, I was the picture of Cocktail Fab. People came from miles around just to see me in my dresses.

Ok, I know they came for the wedding and to see the folks who were actually married, but whatever. My story is better.

La-la la la.

C.T.

If you don't go to church, you might already be dead
I came across an article the other day. The title of it intrigued me:

Churchgoers Live Longer

The article begins with this:
"There are many things you can do to increase your life expectancy: exercise, eat well, take your medication and ... go to church.

A new study finds people who attend religious services weekly live longer. Specifically, the research looked at how many years are added to life expectancy based on:

Regular physical exercise: 3.0-to-5.1 years
Proven therapeutic regimens: 2.1-to-3.7 years
Regular religious attendance: 1.8-to-3.1 years"

Hmmm. See, according to this article you can go to church and sit for an hour or so, and you will live almost as much longer as working out regularly.

Not bad.... sitting versus tiring exercise....

The article then goes on to examine the cost-effective comparison between regular exercise, therapeutic regimens, or church attendance.

". . . examining typical gym membership fees, therapy costs from health insurance companies and census data on average household contributions to religious institutions. The estimated cost of each year of additional life apparently gained by each method:

Regular physical exercise: $4,000
Proven therapeutic regimens: $10,000
Regular religious attendance: $7,000"

So, while not as cheap as joining a gym, if you give regularly to your church it will be more cost-effective to add years to your life than going to therapy for the same goal.

Therefore, what can I conclude from this genius article?

If you are not giving at least $7,000 a year to your favorite church and attending regularly, you will not live as long as those who do.

You can't argue with science, people. Now, get to church and give them some money. It's good for your health.

C.T.

Two funny things that may only be funny to me

1. Dirt.
I think it's really funny that we buy dirt. I bought flowers this weekend to plant in my yard. Before I left the store with the flowers, I had to remember to buy dirt to plant the flowers.

I mean, think about it. The whole world is made entirely of dirt. I own a house that sits on lots and lots of dirt. But if you're going to plant something, you can't just use your own dirt, or any dirt that happens to be lying around the earth. I can't just walk to the back of my yard, dig up a pile of dirt, and go plant stuff with it.

No, you have to buy fancy fertilzer enhanced "potting soil". It has to be specially concocted dirt that helps your plants grow and not die. It has to come in a colorful bag that has pictures of flowers and dirt ON the bag. Some of the bags are even those handy self-zipping bags, so that when you are done with your dirt and you need to store it, you can seal it up to keep it safe and dry.

Dude, it's just dirt. I hosed a pile of dirt off of my car just the other day. Is that worth anything? Could I have reused it?

Whatever. At the end of the day, I just paid $8 for dirt in a bag.

2. My post from yesterday was linked on a West Wing blog today, all due to a tiny comment in the post about how I cried for Leo last night.

It was a very tiny comment. Near the end of a not-entirely-short post that had nothing at all to do with The West Wing.

Funnily enough, all of the people who stopped by to read that post looking for some brilliant West Wing observation from me had to read through every single detail of my weekend before they got to my few words about Leo.

Not at all what they were looking for, and they now know more about what I did this weekend than I think any of us are comfortable with.

But, these things make me laugh.

C.T.

Where did my weekend go?
I intentionally did not make any plans this weekend because I wanted to take a break from the mad-busy schedule I've been keeping for the past few months. And I wanted to get some get-my-house-ready-for-spring-and-summer stuff done. It got hot all of sudden here in Texas, and I still had the heater set to "on" (it hasn't heated anything for at least a week) and my electric blanket still on the bed.

I wanted to fit some relaxing into my weekend, too.

But, here's how my weekend went.

Friday:
Went by Home Depot to buy yard supplies, including flowers for the yard. I didn't plant anything last year. This year, I'm back to gardening. Because it's cool. And, awesome.

Went by the bike shop to see if I needed anything at their big sale. Bought a few sale clothing items. It's time to get back on my bike, which means I need to update my bike wardrobe.

Stopped by Blockbuster, just to see if I needed anything. I didn't, but I rented two movies anyway. I later found out both of them are terrible movies.

Made it home, planted flowers and pulled weeds until it got dark. Did two loads of laundry. Watched Bad Movie #1. Went to sleep sometime after midnight.

Um, and to think I passed on an evening out with friends to 1) save money, and b) rest. Yeah... I did the opposite of both of those.

Saturday:
Only slept until about 8:00. Had my coffee in my chair, while doing another load of laundry.

Cleaned the bathroom. Showered. Went to get a haircut. Called my parents. Stopped by the mall, frantically trying to find something to wear to a wedding in a few weeks because I've suddenly realized I have absolutely nothing to wear. At all. Zero. Zilch.

But, not being in a shopping mood, the whole mall stop was pointless. Completely pointless. I am going to have to wear jeans to this wedding, or not go, because I just don't understand how to pick out and wear clothes that aren't jeans. I am totally bad at clothes.

Made it back home. Then I took my bike to the bike shop to leave it for a tune-up, so I can start riding again. Stopped at the milk store to buy milk. Came home and went back out in the yard to work on my irrigation system (and by this I mean I buried a soaker hose into my flower bed). I then watered everything I planted the day before. Pulled more weeds until dark.

Then I watched Bad Movie #2 and went to bed again sometime after midnight.

Huh. Not so much taking it easy during my RELAXING weekend.

Sunday:
Woke up at 9:00 (spring-forward time), which was really 8:00am according to my body clock. Started the fourth and final load of laundry. Had coffee in my chair and read the paper. Watered my yard.

Then I went to Target, which was not a cheap adventure for me. Why must everything be on sale when I am trying not to spend money this weekend???

Came home. Back out in the yard. Worked on my sprinklers. Washed the side of my house where there was some gooey residue from some stuff I taped there last summer. Made a note to myself NOT to tape stuff to the house this year....

Got the patio furniture out of the shed. Cleaned the patio furniture. Watered more of my yard.

Killed a wasp by spraying a whole can of wasp spray at it and anything in a 10 foot circle around it.

Came inside. Cleaned the air-conditioner so I could turn it on and make my house not 108 degrees. Cleaned all the dust off of the ceiling fans so I could get them going, too.

Showered. Church. Home. Ironed 108 pieces of clothes. Cried when Leo died on The West Wing, even though I knew it was coming.

And now it's time for bed again. Almost midnight.

Things I did NOT get done this weekend:
Putting away clean laundry
Vacuuming
Cleaning the other bathroom
Mowing
Reading
Saving money
RELAXING

I'm supposed to be working on balance. As much as I hate to admit it, I easily fall into the rut of ALL or NOTHING. I'm either sitting on the couch doing nothing for hours on end, or I'm at the other extreme where I can't stop finding things to do to keep from resting.

For some reason, I get it in my head that I have to "do" and get things "done". Not because it's expected of me. I just don't know what to do if things need to be done and I don't get them finished.

I don't even need a to-do list. I just go from one thing to the next. If I had a list, it would never get shorter. I add things as I go.

Sure, I got a lot done this weekend. I have cute flowers planted. I'm happy with all of that. I LOVE being in my yard and gardening. It is therapeutic for me.

But I. Am. Tired.

Maybe I'll relax tomorrow night. After I work all day, then water the yard, and put away the laundry, and vacuum, and clean that other bathroom...

C.T.

Math is not my friend
Warning: This is a boring financialy/numbery post.

Every year, I get a letter from my mortgage company reporting on the past year's taxes and whatnot. This letter also announces my new mortgage payment for the next year, based on estimated taxes and whatnot. It's their best guess as to what my monthly payment will be, based on the history from the previous year.

The first year, they had WAY overestimated my taxes. Since they can't keep extra of my dollars lying around in my escrow* account, they had to send me a really nice check. It was like a surprise Christmas in May. PLUS, they estimated that my payment for the next year would be lower than what I had been paying.

SUPER! Owning a house is a piece of cake!

The next year, I got a HORRIBLE letter. Apparently they had UNDERestimated my taxes for that year, and I was low in my escrow account. I owed them lots of money. And my monthly payment for the next year went up. A lot.

I cried. I called people who could maybe get me out of it. They couldn't. I stressed out. I panicked that I would have to sell my house. Or WORSE, get a ROOMMATE.

Fortunately, my tax refund, plus my very sweet Daddy, made everything okay. But, I had to suck it up and get used to a higher mortgage payment each month.

So, last week I got the letter. I opened it. It told me I was short in my escrow account AGAIN. And they adjusted my monthly payment AGAIN. SHEESH!! I have no more money to give you people!

I put the letter away in frustration. I didn't even read all of it. I've been stressed about it all week.

Fast-forward to today, and I just looked at the letter again. Yes, I do have a shortage in my escrow account. But it's minor. And even with the shortage prorated over the next 12 months, my monthly payment will go DOWN a bit from this past year.

Um, yeah. So when I first looked at it last week, I noticed the last two numbers in the payment went from 30 to 74. And I immediately assumed this meant the WHOLE number went up.

Um, yeah. So after looking at it again and SUBTRACTING the two ammounts (because the first number is larger than the second - not the other way around), I'm much less stressed. I see that the difference in the numbers actually works in my favor this time.

Stupid math.

Yay somewhat-more-afforable housing!

C.T.

*Do not ask me to explain to you what an escrow account it. I pretty much know. But I cannot explain it to you.

Three Things

1. Dried Fruit has finally made it in this world. I don't usually buy dried fruit because I can never find it in the grocery store. When I'm looking for raisins, I can never find them. Dried fruit is always stuck on a random aisle that never makes any sense. If I happen to stumble upon it, I will buy it.

But, today I went to Target and I saw DRIED FRUIT proudly listed on the big sign above the aisle. I bought some dried fruit because I knew exactly where to find it. It's a big day for dried fruit.

2. I can't remember the second thing.

3. As I was driving home, I saw three kids playing with a ball in their front yard. There were two boys and one girl, maybe 7 years old. The ball suddenly went out in the street in front of my car. Naturally I slowed way down and glued my eyes on the kids to make sure none of them ran out in front of my car to chase the ball.

As I watched the kids, I saw the younger girl run towards the street. But as she did, one of the boys grabbed her arm to hold her back. Then he motioned for her to stay. As I passed I saw him look both ways, then he carefully went out into the street to get the ball.

I cried the rest of the way home, watching this young boy be so protective of that little girl. Maybe he was her brother, maybe they are all just neighbor kids. Whatever the case, that was the sweetest thing I've seen in a really long time.

C.T.

Squirrels STILL don't belong in houses.
This morning as I enjoyed my usual Sunday morning routine of sitting in my chair, reading the paper, and drinking my coffee while letting the sunshine stream in through the windows, I heard a noise at the back door.

It sounded like the wind was lighting blowing outdoor debris at the door, which is not uncommon. But as I looked outside, I noticed the wind wasn't blowing.

My backdoors are French doors with lovely windows that allow lots of light in, and also make for a fantastic view of my backyard when looking out from inside. They also apparently make a great place for small creatures to peer into my home.

There, looking in through the bottom of the glass door was... A SQUIRREL. Yes, the noise I heard was his sharp pointy claws scratching along the bottom of the door as he moved from side to side to get a better view of me. He then stopped and stared right back at me.

Or maybe he was looking for his friend that perished in my home a couple of years ago.

I got up to take his picture, but he left before I could grab the camera.

If I wasn't paranoid about squirrels getting into my house, it would be really cute. But I'm a little worried that maybe he was sent in on a recon mission by the secret squirrel militia, to get the layout of my house for a secret attack they may be planning.

C.T.

I'm annoyed
Granted, I've been really grumpy all day anyway. But then I watched American Idol and decided that I'm not only grumpy, but I'm annoyed, too.

Things that annoyed me:

Bucky. Just, Bucky.

Kelly Pickler's walking. Just because you are singing about walking doesn't mean you actually have to walk the whole time you sing.

Taylor's possibly-cocaine-induced dancing. It's not even cute anymore. Just annoying.

Taylor's white shoes with a suit. What?!?!

Paris's hair. I'm just not really sure what was going on there.

Ace's shirt. I was growing weary of the t-shirts, but now that I've seen him in a real shirt, it's just not natural. Go back to the tees.

Elliott's tie and untucked shirt combo. Nothing good about that.

Kevin's hand in his pocket the whole time he sang. 'Nuff said.

THE FLOWER! You saw it, too. And it scared the bajeezus out of you like it did me. There in the audience, Jasmine Trias back with the flower. WHY WILL IT NOT GO AWAY?? We voted it off a LONG time ago.

Things that did NOT annoy me:

Katharine.

Chris.

I'm changing my earlier prediction. The top two will be Katharine and Chris. As long as they continue NOT to annoy me.

C.T.

Sir Thomas Bickle Blog Day
I'm a few hours early of the official Thomas Bickle Blog Day, but since I will be away from blogging tomorrow I wanted to make sure this was up on my blog in anticipation of the event. This is a departure from my usual posts, but it is a worthy cause to join in with many fellow bloggers to use our blogs for good, rather than evil today.

Meet Young Thomas Bickle:



He is a young lad, nigh on 7 months old. And he belongs to Mom and Pop Bickle:



A couple of weeks ago, Thomas was diagnosed with a very serious brain tumor. I won't pretend to know anything special about cancer or tumors, but it's bad. The big nasty tumor that Thomas developed was an ependymoma. Look that up for all the gory details.

Thomas has undergone a successful surgery to remove the tumor. But needless to say, he has a long road ahead of him to beat the cancer and recover.



You can read more about Thomas on his very own blog (this little guys is so special he has people who blog for him!): thomasbickle.blogspot.com



You can also read about Thomas in today's (Monday 3/20) Dallas Morning News Metro Section.

Thomas and his family need a lot of support and help during this time. Please keep them in your prayers. And if you are able to send a bit of $$ their way (you can read on Thomas's blog about their financial needs at this time), they have a handy Donate button right there on the blog.

Because really, who could say no to this face?



Viva Thomas and Bickles!

C.T.