I have some things I’m thankful for this year. Some things I’m not, but now is not the time for that. Talk to me next week for complaints.
My son, for finally learning where everything goes when he empties the dishwasher, and for being the one person who consistently makes me belly laugh. That sarcasm 101 class at court jester school really paid off. You are top-shelf, kid, which is, by the way, where the wine glasses go.
My iPhone, which serves as my connection to the universe, my way to shop, my alarm clock, my kitchen timer, my camera, nightlight and radio. I don’t know what I’d do without an automated way to crush candy.
My parents, for everything they do for me, whether I ask them to or not. I know I’m blessed beyond belief to have you both. But I also promised to not get mushy.
My spare kid, and the girls who formed a fan club fighting to replace him, for making me feel loved and appreciated and all-powerful. I do love each of you special snowflakes. If you are reading this, you are my favorite.
Last but not least, I am thankful for second dates, and boys patient enough to wait for you to come out of your silly fog. I am thankful I came to my senses before he gave up on me. And he’s better than a plate full of turkey (but not better than stuffing because let’s not get crazy, okay?)
Went out to Rockport yesterday with my boyfriend to do some browsing, and to visit his brother who owns a gorgeous bed-and-breakfast out there. Little did I anticipate hearing the greatest sentence uttered in 2013 to date.
He was telling us a story about working at the Holiday Inn in Syracuse, basically doing anything that needed doing for tips. Apparently in Syracuse in the 70s, the Holiday Inn was THE place to stay, a hotbed of activity for major and minor celebrities. There weren’t really many other places to stay if you were in the area, visiting the university, or performing.
The stories were great (I’m a huge fan of any kind of celebrity story) but this sentence, actually uttered to Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead, is better than anything I could’ve written.
“I know what it’s like to be famous; I’ve been mistaken for Mac Davis.”
You are welcome universe. Sharing this sentence is my Monday gift to you.
My son, the actor. I like the way that sounds. A week or so ago he was nominated for an EMACT (Eastern Massachusetts Association of Community Theaters) DASH award. DASH stands for “Distinguished Achievement and Special Honors”. That sounds impressive, no? It is. I cried like little baby.
These are the Individual Performance categories. Michael, at 15, was nominated in the Best Youth Actor category, against every other under-18 boy in any production under consideration by EMACT.
I’ve been in awe of my son’s talent for years now, but you always wonder if you’re just blinded by being his parent. This is independent confirmation that I’m not one of those American Idol moms at auditions telling her tone-deaf child “they don’t know talent when they see it!” When I say he’s really very good, I am not the only one who thinks so.
I love new gadgets, but I detest change. So the excitement of having something shiny and new is offset by the pain of the unfamiliar, the disappointment that things are different, or worse than the old. Eventually, I will get used to the new and there will be no more trauma, so I have hope.
Given the above information, you can imagine the horror I am enduring right now as I deal with not one, but four new major appliances. For 19 years I’ve had the same stove and fridge, and my washer and dryer were in the 14 year range. Now they are all new. They are all different. I don’t know how to use 3 of them (the fridge is the one joy in all of this, because really, how difficult can it be to “learn” a new fridge.)
The washing machine, while a lovely machine, is very different from my old front-loading Maytag. The cycles take longer, for one thing. And I think it uses more water. (Is this just the difference between a top loader and a front loader? Maybe I bought the wrong style? Too late now.) I really disliked the “bad” things about the front loader, but I wish the washing was faster. Or maybe it took just as long, but I didn’t have a countdown clock telling me how long it would take to wash a load of towels (over an hour). On the other hand, there’s a lot to love, and some day I’ll finish reading the manual and understand all the settings. Maybe by the end of the summer. The good news? It plays an ice cream man-like song at the end of every cycle. I can barely hear it in the other room, but it’s so happy the load is done it sings!
The stove has a lot of new bells and whistles and I had to finish getting it unwrapped and prepped for use before I could boil water last night. Slight panic over the “new”. I also have to check all my pots and pans to make sure I can use them all (the difference between a piece of crap electric and a nice electric? You have to be careful on the nice one).
All of this bitching is probably making you hate me. I can live with that. I probably won’t even notice you hating on me as I try to memorize all the features and functions of my new toys, just to do a simple load of laundry and cook french fries. Priorities, people.
Four went in, four came out. They met in the middle of the street.
I’m working from home today. Most of the year I work from home on Fridays because my son has an out-of-town rehearsal on Friday nights and it’s the only way to make that work. Now it’s just my normal schedule. I work in the office most other days unless I have an appointment of some kind. I’m hoping to have my floors replaced this summer so that will require me to be here to get estimates.
So instead of driving 45-60 minutes to my regular work location, or 60-70 minutes to the RI office, I had the pleasure of spending that extra hour at my house. During my normal commute time (somewhere around 7:10 to 8:10) I was been able to
- weed my shoe bin(s) and switch winter for summer
- send off my Roomba to do my bidding
- replaced a lightbulb
- fill the dishwasher, and
- start a load of towels (I like to do towels when working from home because they are care-free. If I am in a meeting and can’t get them into the drier right away, it’s not a problem. )
I can wear less expensive clothes when I work from home, and I’ve used no gas, and caused zero wear and tear on my car. And I still wouldn’t be at work yet but here the laptop is fired up and I’m already reading emails and working on a document due later today.
Telecommuting on Fridays improves my work-life balance cause I can enjoy that much more of my Saturday because I won’t have to do any of the things that I did when I would have been sitting in the car getting annoyed at other people who simply do not know how to drive during standard commuting hours. Next step: Write a self-help book called “How to Commute Like a Real Human Being So The Person Behind You Doesn’t Want to Run You Off the Road.” It will be huge.