I made this sign to help the delivery guys out. I wanted to be very clear as to where to leave packages. That way, my $75 canvas photo delivered in a cardboard box wouldn’t get ruined, which would mean I would call the delivery service and make them pay for it. But in the spirit of Christmas joy and understanding, I decided to just make it clear with this bright sign designed with red and white holiday colors, exactly where deliveries should be made.

The kids said it was “bitchy” but I don’t see it. Once again, in the spirit of Christmas joy and understanding I decided to clarify my feelings on the subjet to the words of John Lennon’s Happy Christmas Song.

So this is bitchy
And what have you done
Another package delivered
And it’s another wet one
And so this is bitchy
I hope you can read
The near and wet porch
Isn’t the one.

A very covered and dry porch
And the preferred spot
Is ten steps to the right
Without much extra effort
And so this is bitchy
For all delivery services to see
For I like my packages
As dry as can be
And so put my packages
For a better customer-client relationship
On the covered porch
And let’s stop all the wet packages
So we can have a merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let’s hope you get the message
Without just a tinge of healthy fear
And so this is bitchy
And what have I done
Another door to the right, dear
And you’ll make me feel fun
And so this is bitchy
But what can I do
The near and the wet one
Will let my items get ruined
Giving me a grumpy Christmas
And a snappy New Year
Let’s hope you get the message
With a tinge of healthy fear
War is over, with careful deliveries
If you want it
War is over, I might even take this sign down…
Now…

At first I thought that perhaps the squash that he had been bragging about must not have been put in the right place, namely my basement, and perhaps they were still in the garage. Then I checked around and they were nowhere to be found, but on a visit to my mother-in-law’s house, I spied them by her kitchen door.

While I so kindly offered the complete summer months of my support, offered no cost supervision, and bought ten tomato stands at considerable expense, I apparently am not getting any squash. (Perhaps if I had actually helped in the garden I might have rated some squash?)

When the kids were home, I would make them weed, hoe and water the garden as part of their daily chores. It was hard work too, getting them to do physical labor in the hot summer sun, so I definitely did my part back then. But, now that they are gone, it’s come down to doing it myself with so many things. It just doesn’t seem right. I miss them AND I get extra work? Where’s the payoff?

Well, they tell me they will be cleaning my house and helping with the Thanksgiving meal so perhaps I might see something deposited in my empty nest account this week.

I am off the the store to get some squash for Thanksgiving. I guess I pay for it one way or another.

“A man’s children and his garden both reflect the amount of weeding done during the growing season.” ~ unknown

Are they insane? What do they think the kids, those little social sponges, are taking in? Who do they think they will become if that is what they think life is like?

As I turned purple thinking about how thoughtless some parents are about exposing their kids to total crap, I wondered if this judgmental post would garner some comments. Nahh. Probably not.

Confession: I have never watched Jersey Shore and about three minutes of one of the Real Housewives shows.  I don’t need to. I get it. It’s crass, loud, flashy and shines a light on people who don’t have much substance to reflect. And they get PAID for these lackluster performances.

Personally, I am sick of shows that showcase bad behavior, people having sex as often as I eat dark chocolate (multiple times daily) and with about as much thought as I give that, and reality shows starring fake people. All I can think of is the line from The Princess Bride to describe them, “Boo! Boo! So bow to the Queen of Rubbish, the Queen of Putrescence, The Queen of Garbage, for that’s what she is! Boo! Boo! Boo!”

Note to Parents – Either turn off the crap or don’t talk about it near people with half a brain so that our collective blood pressures can stay within normal limits. And in twenty years, don’t complain about the end product. You didn’t care enough to do any quality control, and that’s your job.

—–

“I love you, but I love myself more.”  ~ Samantha Jones

(And this quote is from a selfish character, who I wouldn’t trust with my chocolate, from another show, Sex in the City, that little kids should not have been watching but probably did.)

It is football season and if you go to games in Buffalo that means tailgating. And that means calories. There is also a basic amount of alcohol to be served. This means the diet will be in hold or worse – in reverse. It has been on hold since the summer when the parties and vacations cut into the plans for weight loss. That was just after the birthday season and before that was the holiday season. My reason for any season involves food. And elastic.

“And the seasons they go round and round,” wrote Joni Mitchell. I do too.

People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. When you figure out which one it is, you will know what to do for each person.

It seems our waiter was completely overpowered by a certain NHL goalie who happened to be at the same restaurant and the poor thing, he must not have been able to concentrate on more than that. We got the minimum of attention, the maximum wait time, lost our wine bottle before it was empty, and not even a morsel of chatter, prattle or banter to offset the lack of attention, especially when spending a considerable amount of money for a meal.

When replying to our questions, our waiter began to answer and mid-sentence decided to walk away, (I think that is like the audio version of Wheel of Fortune – you guess the rest of the answer from what you are given. The only problem is that in this game, it’s always WRONG) or answered with short one-word replies and /or seemed rather bored.

It took 15 minutes to get my husband a beer, which coincidentally was the same 15 minutes that our main entree was served. (Not to worry about thirst – the water boy, who was very sweet and attentive, was right there with plenty H2O.) Nothing like a beer with your lemon curd.

Our waiter took the wine off the table when there was still wine to drink left in the bottle. A few steps from the table, he noticed this, stopped, held it up to the light, obviously saw that it was NOT empty…and then kept on walking away with it. If it weren’t for the fact that my daughter was paying for this meal and it would make her feel bad, I would have followed him to the kitchen and gotten my wine back. You really shouldn’t take wine from me, especially when I am not driving and have already had some. Danger zone.

Good thing that we are classy people (We didn’t even take a photo or ask the famous goalie for a photo or autograph) and that we are such wonderfully pleasant people ourselves that our power to overcome treatment-like-crap-compared-to-the-famous-person  is amazing. And we aren’t even bitter – not even after beer with lemon curd.

If we weren’t such amazingly gracious people, there would only have been one thing to say to this poor limited waiter unable to concentrate on more than one thing, especially if the one thing makes millions of dollars playing hockey – No Goal! (People from Buffalo will know what I am talking about. There is Google for the rest of you.)

If you don’t take care of your customers, someone else will. ~ Anonymous

It’s almost as annoying as buying an item and finding out that your two-pack of boy cut briefs contained one pair of large silky grandma underpants rather than the cute little comfortable things I paid for. Yes, one pair was fine, but someone, probably some twisted male with mother issues, pulled out one pair and inserted the grandam undies in their place! Poser!

Okay. Very funny. I got the joke but now I want the boy cut briefs I paid for. Okay so I did get them at Big Lots and I only paid $2.60 for the two-pack, but that’s not the point.

And just what will I do with these grandma undies? I am keeping them for a joke gift. I don’t know who or when, but I will get MY $1.30 in entertainment value.

—-

“Success and failure are the same impostor.”  ~ Rudyard Kipling