Personal Space Invaders

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Today I went to eat at a hibachi grill with my family.  We watched in awe as the cook (HEY!!  He's not JAPANESE!!!!!)  made flaming onion towers, chopchopchopchopchopchopchopchopchopchopped up eggs, did a little dance with his spatula, pulled little rice pranks on a disinterested teenager and gave me one too many pieces of teriyaki chicken (DO I LOOK LIKE A YAK?  Do you think I can EAT all of that??).  Before I slipped into pure hibachi euphoria, we had to first enter the restaurant, walk past the snobbish sushi bar and the fish tanks (quit sucking up the rocks, goldfish, before you lose your restaurant some business!) and arrive at "our" grill/table. 

Uhhhhhhhhhhh.........waitress?  Who are these people?  WHY are they flanking my sides?  I said a table for 3.  I would also like my own hibachi man and would prefer for him to be Japanese. 

Sidenote: Do you think they'd hire a white female like myself to stun guests with my ability to chop the heck off of shrimp tails?  My husband likes for me to make money.  I will seriously consider this possibility.

My experience of enjoying the heck out of that ginger dressing on iceberg lettuce really was not brought down by the fact that there were complete strangers sitting reaaaaaaaaally close to us.

Can you wait for the waitress, disinterested teenager, and stop drinking my tea?!?!?  Yokatta kotto! (that's "my goodness" in Japanese)

I guess we were also sitting close to them.

Mmmmmm, Middle-Aged Lady, I'm glad you got shrimp!  Tasty!  Is this restaurant You-Ain't-My-Family Style?  Sou nara ii desu ne!  (*sigh* That is "I hope so!" in Japanese.  Check out Rosetta Stone, would ya?)

Sitting riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight next to these other hibachi-lovin' Americans made me aware of some other personal space invading places (that sounds like a video game!  I think I have just stumbled upon a brilliant idea...), including:

• Restaurants with loooooooooong bench seats on one side, several itty-bitty tables and a long, crowded line of wooden chairs on the other side.

Hi, sir.  Can we sit here?  I am so sorry, but there are just no other options for seating.  Yes, yes, I see that you are reading an "intellectual" book.  I hope my screeching 2-year-old and whining 5-year-old don't disturb you.  Um, sir.  Can my 2-year-old, who is desperately in need of a diaper change, sit on your lap?  I need one of these seats for my purse. 

Well, would you look at that?  Everyone has left.  It's just my two sons, me, and you crowded on the end of the bench together.  This sure is awkward.

Are you going to eat that French fry?

• Dentist offices

Is my gaping mouth inches from your face, Ms. Hygienist?  I am so sorry!  I don't normally approach a complete stranger and show them my tonsils!  This is really embarrassing... asdlkjdg;lkasjgdlkjasgkljasldgj [This is me trying to talk after she's stuck that sucker in my mouth that parades as a saliva catcher but is really trying to remove all my teeth so that the dentist office can sell me dentures]

• Elevators

If it is okay with you, elderly stranger and fellow elevator rider, I am going to go ahead and get on your shoulders.  As you can see, there are people trying to get into this elevator and I don't want to be seen as the person not being accommodating.  Can you make a step out of your two hands?  Okay.  I'm up.  Can you push 4? 

• Disney World

We WILL get in to see this showing of "It's a Bug's Life", even if it means that we have to get inside your fanny pack, mister.  Could you please remove your granola bar and lip balm?

• Wal-Mart return line

Excuse me, older gentleman with black calf-high socks and shorts, could I have a piggyback ride?  I see no other way of getting us all into this little corner of the store so that we can return our Mitchums, frozen pizzas and loofah sponges.  Awww, thanks!  You are the best!  Can I call you PawPaw?

Oh, I have to admit, sometimes I like being in close quarters with complete strangers.  You get to eavesdrop on their conversations, start a conversation if you bargain you'll be there a while (and decide it would be more awkward to stand there like a human statue on Time Square that whole time) and gush over children and babies.

Sayonara!

Could you use a megaphone next time?

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During my last post, I got all serious on you.  I can do that from time to time.  But this post, girrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrls (and boys!), I'm lettin' it out!  Make some room!  Make some room! 

I want to share a story about something that happened to be yesterday, my friends (and my Dad!  Can I get a 'what? what?').  I don't know what that last bit within the parentheses meant exactly.  I know I've heard it before and liked the way it sounded.  Just let me say it, even though it doesn't make sense, alright?  I like to act like I am all tough from time to time as well.  I go from silly, to serious, to tough, to Target and back to silly again.  The story I want to share has to do with my hearing.  Before I let you laugh AT me, know that I do not want to offend anyone out there who also has a hearing loss.  I like to laugh at myself but that does not mean I would be laughing at you (while you are facing me), okay?  Also, in my line of work (that I do a few hours a week), it is important to hear well.  In quiet, one-on-one settings (with fierce, over-exaggerated lip movements, subtitles blasted across your forehead, a megaphone on your mouth and gargantuan hearing aids in both ears with hearing aids on top of those), I can hear well.  So, please do not hesitate to seek my professional opinion or services.  My story, my story...I'm getting there...

I was testing a precious little three-year-old girl today.  At one point, I asked her what she was learning in her preschool.  She told me she was learning about PARENTS.

Parents, huh?  Oh, my!  Parents are great, aren't they?  Parents DO understand.  Don't listen to Will Smith!  You don't know Will?  Anyway, I am a parent myself and I HAVE parents and they have parents.  Some people have 2 sets of parents...

Sweet little girl: I said PARIS.

Paris!  Oh my goodness!  I am SOOO sorry about that misunderstanding.  I just LOVE Paris!  The only place I have been to outside of North America was Paris.  My husband took me there in April 1999.  It was wonderful!  We had a hideous lamp shaped like the Eiffel tower for a while.  The Eiffel tower...  Did you know that when I went up that tower for the first time I had a stomach virus?  I was crouched in the corner of the elevator as it made it's ascent to the top...

Sweet little girl's mom: E...Ex...Excuse me, miss.  She said PARROTS.

"Well, don't I feel dumb!  Knock me over the head, why don't you?  Someone is going a little cuckoo, huh?  Cuckoo!  Cuckoo!  That's me!  One big cuckoo-head!  Wow!  Okay, parrots.  I think PARROTS are a more appropriate topic for children to learn about.  I was really snoring when she said "parents" and then I thought "Paris" was so random.  What about America?  I'm PROUD to be an American where I least I know I'm free, right?  Call me Mrs. Greenwood!  And I won't forget the men who died and gave that right to me [I'm standing at this point with my hand over my heart and violently swaying back and forth with my eyes closed and my mouth gaping open as I belt out the words].  Wow, look at me go.  I just love America, but I also love parrots.  I always wanted one but we got parakeets instead.  A family friend kicked one over once and gave it a heart attack.  Poor little thing died.  Hello!  Hello! [mocking a parrot's voice while bobbing my head forward quickly like a big, talking, colorful bird].  Polly want a cracker?  Polly want a cracker?  Hello!  Hello! [imagine me heartily laughing at my horrible im-bird-anation while Sweet Little Girl's Mom blankly stares at me]."

Sweet little girl's mom: PIRATES.  She said pirates.  Like "Ahoy, mates!"

Oh.

I called my sister to tell her what happened today and just kept giggling over it.  Parents- Paris- parrots- pirates.  Hahahahahaha!!!  I hope you all know that I am exaggerating about the things I said in response to the word updates.  I don't think that I actually said "Polly, want a cracker?" but everything else is pretty much verbatim (wink, wink).  These situations don't happen to me ALL the time, but when they do, I get a smile out of it [I'm standing looking at you with a plastered smile on my face that is beginning to....here it goes...quiver....it's quivering....eyes are filling up with tears...WAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!].  In my defense, the little girl DID have trouble saying the word, which is why she was seeing me in the first place [feeling better...wiping the tears...playing it off & acting like the outburst was over Felicity being canned all those years ago...it still really affects me deeply].

Don't you wish you I was at your slumber party when you were playing "Telephone"?  I would have torn that mess up!



*The picture of those groovy parents are from www.grinningplanet.com.
*The picture of the Eiffel tower is from www.opticianonline.net/blogs/big-optometry-blog/eiffel-tower-picture.jpg.
*The parrot is from http://www.thecomingwave.com/parrot/leavesandparrot-flipped.gif or Bill's Parrot.
*That pirate is from http://www.thepickards.co.uk/images/pirate63.gif.

Please, don't moon me!

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Most of my posts are silly because that's who I am.  However, like all of us, I do have a serious side.  I just let mine out occasionally (hold on, she's trying to get out.  Get...back...in...there...  Sorry, didn't work.  She's insisting on typing a bit in this post.  *Sigh*).  Like just now, I didn't know she was going to come out the other night as I read a book to Charlie Pride.  I just have to digress from my normal rantings on topics like belly button lint to share this book with you today.  I share it because I think you will like it and perhaps be moved by it as I was...  Tomorrow I will get back to talking about something like the pots & pans cleaner "Bar Keepers Friend" needing a Certs or something (and it does- whoooooweeeee!!), but today, I want to talk about the moon.

If a white van on it's way to the Kennedy Space Center would've stopped by my house a month or so ago & asked, "Hey, do you want to go to the moon?"  I would've asked him to let me get the wet clothes into the dryer and then wait a second more for me to pack my bags.  Well, I may have given it a little more thought than that.  I am sure I would've asked to unload the dishwasher...and kiss my kids and husband.  I might have also asked to finish my thank-you cards.  Still, I would've have entertained the thought.  After reading "If you decide to go to the moon" by Faith McNulty to Charlie Pride my answer is a most definite "no way, Hosee" (that's how someone in my family says 'Jose'.  She doesn't speak Spanish).

"If you decide to go to the moon" is about a little boy who travels to the moon by himself.  He is giving pointers to anyone wishing to do the same in the future.  Here are some moon facts I perhaps didn't know or liked being reminded about (and I will not reveal which is which) that we read in the book:

• It takes 2 1/2 days to travel to the moon
• Space is dark, dark, dark, dark, dark, dark,
• Space goes on forever
• Stars surround you on all sides but they are far, far, far, far, far, far, far, far away
• On the moon, "EVERYTHING is all ONE color- silvery gray" (my emphasis)
• No matter how much you bring with you to the moon (books, games, etc.), you will run out & will have no place to buy more
• You would burn up in the light or freeze to death in the dark if you were to take your space suit off on the surface of the moon
• There is NO AIR
• There is NO SOUND- no music, no voices, no sounds of rocks being kicked...nothing
• On the surface of the moon, NOTHING moves
• Everything is completely STILL
• It is an ENDLESS sea of gray, gray, gray, gray, gray
• Footprints made years and years ago look untouched
• The American flag looks like it is blowing in the wind because of the stiff wires that run through it
• When the astronauts find the flag upon arriving on the moon, it is flat in the dirt as it gets blown over by the spacecraft when it leaves

Besides being reminded of some interesting facts, this children's book really touched me.  "Kelley, are you crying over a kid's book?" my husband asked me with a look of you've-got-to-be-kidding-me in it.  It's not meant to be a sad book.  Overall, it's very cute and I actually HIGHLY recommend it (and, no, I'm not getting paid to pimp the book!).  When I think of the moon, I think of the way we see it from Earth, about space travels to the moon and the like.  I never REALLY thought about traveling to the moon myself.  I never thought about how I would actually FEEL if I were blasted into space and had to land on the moon alone.  Reading about this boy's adventures made me so sad and almost gave me a breathless feeling.  It made me anxious.  It made me feel so small and so insignificant.  It gave me a feeling of loneliness.  I was sad for the boy way up in space all alone, as if he were my own son missing his family and chocolate milk, and he was just a drawing in a book.

"Up here in space you may feel very alone.  Don't look back at Earth.  It would make you even lonelier.  This is the time to play cheerful music, eat a peanut butter sandwich, keep your eyes fixed on the shining moon..."

I asked Charlie Pride if he were to go the moon and could only take ONE person or thing with him, who or what would it be. He said he wanted to take his little brother. Sniffle, sniffle...  I loved that answer.

After feeling sad, I turned the page to see beautiful artwork of life on Earth.  This is where the little tears started to flow (and my son started looking at me like an alien).  I suddenly felt extremely grateful and had an overwhelming urge to thank God for Earth, for water, for flowers, for PEOPLE, for dirt, for birds, for AIR, for love and leaves and rain and lightning.  For life. 

"Whenever you feel discouraged, look through your porthole.  You will see a beautiful sight- Earth , surrounded by stars, shining like a blue-and-white ball on a Christmas tree"

I will never look at the moon the same again.  Instead of just marveling at the moon's beauty, I will thank God for my life and for this beautiful place He has given us to live.

Hallelujah.


*The image of the scary moon above is from www.bergoiata.org

My Gas Pump Thoughts

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I am noticing that in some blogs the children get code names.  I am all about protecting my children.  Oh, would you hold on a second?

Would you take your knife set into the other room?  I am having a hard time concentrating on my blog here!  Geez Louise!

Sorry about that.  Anyway, what I was saying was that I care about protecting my children very much.  Of course I do!  Oh, for cryin' out loud.  Could you hold on one more second?

If you are going to drink the Lysol, could you at least wear a bib??  I just washed that shirt! 

I WILL get this thought out.  No matter what anyone else (CPS) tells you, I DO care about my children and I DO want them to be safe.  What you all don't know is that the other names I used for my sons in previous posts WERE the code names!  However, I have grown extremely tired of all of that code name business, so I am just going to lay it to you straight.  My 5-year-old's REAL name is Charlie Pride and our 2-year-old's REAL name is Bocephus.

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's talk about gas stations.  We all have to go there every week.  If you are like me, you like to play the "how low can you go" game.  I make it my goal each week to coast in to the Shell station on fumes.  Sometimes the fumes get me a few yards from the tanks.  That's when Charlie Pride & Bocephus have to get out and give it a little push.  I sure am glad I had boys...  There are always the same few thoughts that hit me when I am at the gas station that I thought I'd share with you.

• This tank better work because I do NOT want to walk into that store.  What would I do with Charlie Pride & Bocephus?  You didn't just say get them out of the car seats, did you?  I do not like walking inside the stinkin' store, man!  I went to a gas station today that had NO options for credit card payment at the pump.  They had a place where you could drop Chuck E. Cheese tokens, but no credit card slots.  Ridiculous!  I had to WALK IN (hello!!) and pay Mr. Gas Man behind the counter.  Every second that I am in a convenience store is a second off my life.  My anxiety levels skyrocket.  Is that blind 4-year-old girl going to pull a gat?  Well, is she?!?!?!  You better believe I (politely) asked Mr. Gas Man why  there were no credit card slots on the (I've bet you got) gas tanks.  He told me it was because most of his (illegal) clientele did not have bank accounts, credit cards, etc. and only paid with cash.  That was the wrong thing to say to this lady!  I was so furious that I...thanked him for the $40 worth of (who's got) gas and got back in my car. 

• I could use a little help with the ice. Twice now I have frequented a nearby (in)convenience store for bags of ice. The first time I needed ice for a picnic & the second time I needed ice for Bocephus's 2nd birthday party. Both times I bought about 8 bags of ice and was either by myself or only had Charlie Pride with me. I always overestimate how much ice I need. This is never a real problem as the left over ice always gets put to good use (watering a dirt patch, quenching a trash can's thirst, etc.). Heaving 8 bags of ice to the counter and then to the car is a big job for Charlie Pride and me! We leave behind ice chunks, water puddles and lawsuits waiting to happen because that man behind the counter can't quit selling cigarettes and beer for a second. I felt horrible that they sent this *lady out to help. She seemed happy about it, though.  She was a little slow, though...
  

• No, I don't want a car wash, but...  I wish the questions were more along the lines of these:
• Are you paying with cash?
• Are you paying with a credit/debit card?
• Could these nice ladies behind the gas tank do your nails?
• Would you like a bag of chips?
• Do you need a Chai Tea Frappucino from Starbucks?
• Every time I think/talk about "Starbucks" now, I hear Ludacris saying "She got me going crazy.  Oh, I was star-struck.  She woke me up daily- don't need no Starbucks!"  in Justin Bieber's "Baby Baby" video.  Hahahahaha!!  Love it.  That's why I linked it.  I'm 13 inside.  What can I say?
• Would you like some Hubba Bubba?
• Could you use a 3-liter of Big Red?
• AND THEN...Do you need a car wash?

It's always the same questions from that boring gas tank.  He always wants to talk about credit cards, debit cards & car washes.  Get a personality!  Zzzzzzzz.....

• Why are they selling fried chicken?  I realize that people like to eat fried chicken on the go, but can't you stop by KFC or Hartz?  (KFC vs. Hartz was a hotly debated topic on one of my recent Facebook posts.  I will let it go here...  Breathing in deep...)  Why do you want to eat chicken fried in motor oil?  Although my picture isn't advertising fried chicken, it is advertising cigarettes, then motor oil, THEN sandwiches.  Would you like Diesel, cigarette ashes or mustard with your ham and cheese?

I have a lot more thoughts at the gas station.  It usually isn't about the gas prices, which is so irresponsible of me.  If I weren't coasting on fumes, I'd have more choices.  Charlie Pride & Bocephus can only push the car so far before they get worn out. 

All this gas station talk reminds me of the debate my best friend and I used to have growing up.  She said "I need to gas up" when her car was running low on fumes and I would say "I need gas".  What do you say? 


*That nice lady's picture is from http://www.maggiesmetawatershed.blogspot.com/.

TOP 5 REASONS FOR MY GYM ANXIETY

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Today was my first day to the gym.  It felt like the first day of school.  I just knew that my flab would get caught in the door when I tried to enter.  The management would have to gather around me & spray WD-40 to free me from my humiliation.  Thankfully, the management did not have to get involved.  An old lady on her way to swim happened to have a can.  Starting my morning off wedged between the door just spiked my anxiety for other things, including the:

1. KIDS' AREA-
• I felt like I might as well have been dropping my 2-year-old son into a the pit of a volcano. I didn't know these people. I wasn't positive how hot they'd make that room when I left. How did I know that the toy chest didn't contain glass shards, razors & machetes? On top of that, what type of activities were available for the children?  Would they teach him to speak Cantonese, write in Urdu, make swans out of thin pieces of paper and how to paint with water colors using only his toes like I do at home?
2. DUMB BELLS-
• Great name.  I was nervous that I'd accidently let go of my .5 pound weight during the class & hit the instructor in the eye.  Actually, maybe I should've done that.  I could've made it where it hit her LEFT eye & then stood on her left side during the class.  She wouldn't have seen me every time I only did 4 repetitions instead of 15 or refused to lift my feet off the ground during crunches.
3. MIRROR IN THE EXERCISE ROOM-
• This interfered with a couple of things, including:
• My fort-building from the yoga/exercise mats.  Every time I tried to duck into my fort to escape her relentless repetitions, she'd see me;
• My self-image.  Did they buy that mirror from a carnival "fun house" garage sale?
4. WINDING STAIRCASE-
• Leading from the first floor to the sea of elliptical machines & treadmills on the second floor is a winding staircase. Although I know people are absorbed in their own calorie-burning worlds & not watching me, I felt like a flabby, gym rookie on display. As if it wasn't bad enough trying to move my tree trunks up each step without tripping, once I made it to the top my indecision, despair & inexperience was obvious to anyone watching. WHERE DO I GO?? WHAT'S AN ELLIPTICAL?!?! AHHHH!!!
5. TREADMILL-
• I am quite sure I was walking a fine line between walking too stinkin' fast and running.  Was I really supposed to be walking at that blasted speed? 
• Was I annoying the girl next to me because I kept looking in her direction to watch the Bravo channel her TV was set on?  "Top Master Chefs" was much more interesting than the stock market coverage on CNBC on my TV.  It was much more fun to see critics spew venom over the chutney not being flavorful enough than to hear about Dow Jones.

My anxiety is down now.  I made it out the door without using WD-40 (I covered myself in Vaseline before leaving), so that helped.  I guess I will return later this week.  I will just make sure I bust out that Vaseline again, will have a camera attached to my son's pacifier, make sure one side of my yoga/exercise is mat covered with a mirror of some sort & come equipped with my arsenal of weapons to ensure I get my treadmill of choice.  I just love the gym.

Get that fish some eyelids!

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My sister killed all of our fish with Triscuits.

It was 1981, but still...

I know she was only 2 years old, but I was 6 and remember it like it was yesterday. Knowing she was so young and likely didn't know better does not heal the hole in my heart any quicker. In slow motion, I still see her little fist dumping that WHOLE box of Triscuits into the fish tank so the fish could have a buffet. "ALL YOU CAN EAT UNTIL YOU EXPLODE!!" was the sign all the fish saw (which is the same sign still hanging over the heating tables at any Golden Corral, Ryan's or any Chinese buffet today...weird).
You know those fish swam over there as fast as their little fins would allow because they never learned to read in their school. What a travesty! Do you know 100% of fish are STILL illiterate? They had never seen a stinkin' Triscuit OR a Big Chief tablet! STOP BLAMIN' THE FISH! As soon as shredded wheat was within their reach, they immediately set their jaw into the rapid up and down movement. Myum, myum, myum, myum, myum, myum, myum, MYUM, myum, myum, myum, MYUM, myum, myum..."Nadine, I am having stomach pains. I think I am getting a little too full of this fish foo..". BAM!!!!