Showing posts with label observing life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label observing life. Show all posts

Tuesday

From The Archives: A Peeve

(I am taking a bit of a bloggy break this week. I am posting some of my all-time top 5 posts throughout this week. Enjoy)

Ya know, I try to be Suzy Sunshine over here, which is annoying beyond all comprehension I'm sure.

But I read this today and decided to keep it real and share with you one of my peeves. I think I've even decided that the phrase "pet peeve" is one of my peeves, too, so I'm not going to call it that, either. (Seriously -- you have GOT to read that link! FAR more valuable than anything I will put over here!)

So. Facebook affords me far more insight into human nature than I need or want, though I simply cannot. tear. myself. away. (My addiction to social media can be YOUR peeve. I'm totally good with it.)

One thing that I have noticed is someone's proclamation of good news:

"I have awesome concert tickets!"

"Finally booked my cruise!"

"Sitting with my college roomie on the patio of a great restaurant!"

"Vacation starts now!"

Whatever it is - good news! Yay! Invariably, someone will comment with "No fair!" That simply crawls all over me.

One in particular that got me was a young, hard-working mom who got to go on a trip because of her husband's work. When she mentioned she was looking into some tickets for theater productions there, another "friend" of hers pouted in the comments, "No fair!" Pouty friend and her family could buy that trip and tickets to any show twelve times over -- this would likely be the first woman's only opportunity for such a trip. How is that not fair?

Denise mentioned something about leaving for her cruise. A friend I don't know pouted, "No fair!" Denise and her husband both have a job, Denise had been saving her dollars for the trip -- how is that not fair? Because she has something good and you don't? That is life, sister friend. Occasionally friends get good things. Get your happy britches on about it.

"I was jus' kiddin'!" those of you prone to pout "No fair!" may protest. Well, that is part of my peeve, I suppose. As a writer and a "word person", words mean something, and have weight. If you are truly happy for the person, say so. If you aren't, keep it to yourself.

As far as words having weight, while I'm bein' all open and honest here, I'll confess that just one hour ago, I let one little casually tossed phrase in my home hurt someone I love deeply. I didn't intend it the way it was taken, I have (and will continue to) apologize -- but it is impossible to unring that bell. Words have weight. "Oh be careful little mouth what you say."

"Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone." Romans 12: 15,18

So. That is my confession. Feel free to share your own peeve or three. I don't want to feel alone over here in my peeves.

Saturday

What Say You?

In my opinion, (and, since this is my blog, my opinion is right, of course) Potato Soup is simply potato soup -- there is no cheese in potato soup! (to the phrase-ology of "there's no crying in baseball!") There may be grated cheese ATOP potato soup, as you might garnish a baked potato, but say it with me, "There is no cheese in potato soup!" I have learned to ask at restaurants: "What is your potato soup like: does it have cheese in it?" I generally get, "Oh, yes! Very cheesy!" Well, I don't want it!

Huge diversion: Colt McCoy. Awesome dude, no question. There was some discussion that he came out of Thursday's game somewhat hurt to save his shoulder for a potential NFL draft. I am all about Colt McCoy, the guy and think he lives up to all the college football AND nice guy hype he has been dealt. However, NFL draft material? I don't follow closely enough to really know, of course, but is he even big enough/ tall enough? Just don't know. This is yet another great blog about Colt and his family being the real deal. Colt's grandpa worked at a camp that I came to out at ACU when I was about 5th grade and Colt's uncle helped with it. All very nice and godly people.

Potato soup: cheesy or not?
Colt McCoy: NFL material or not?
Discuss.

Observing Life

When you do that whole "do the difficult thing first" plan, you have the potential of starting your day by having a "yes, we received your article, no, we aren't interested" phone call. Maybe you should save those for the end of the day.

Language Lesson

'Across' is a word.

'Crossed' is a word.

'Acrossed' or 'acrosst' are not words (since it isn't actually a word, I don't know how to spell it).

That is all.

Observing Life

What do you suppose Debra wears to the Dollar Place that is less dressed up than Wal-Mart? I'm afraid, very afraid.

Observing Life

Does anyone else out there suspect that their gifted children purposefully do all the things you ask them to -- yet do it incorrectly -- with the underlying idea that we will eventually quit asking them to do things and just do it ourselves?

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Voting ends Monday for Theobloggers Christian Blog Awards. Vote here.

To check out some favorite posts:

How Great the Father's Love and

Y'all, Stickers Has Issues

Get. A. Life.

A quote from someone who was speaking directly to me (yes, she was serious), in conspiratorial tones:

"There just may have to be a coup."

What would require such drastic change of power?

PTA officers, of course.

Just don't get blood on your Gucci purse, sweety.

Sarah's Words to Live By

Don't break your arm patting yourself on the back for cleaning the kitchen until the crock pot has been washed...

Observing Life

I mentioned recently that I am enjoying my newly discovered permission to read all I want. Now I just need someone to give me permission to walk away from a book that I'm not enjoying. If you read enough books, you're going to get some stinkers eventually. I think I most appreciate the books that are horrible in the first two pages. Then I don't feel quite so committed.

Tuesday

Would You Like Cheese Fries or Tator Tots With That?

Had a very funny experience today that highlighted what a made-to-order society we have become. I'm creating business cards (made-to-order, of course) and took a little informal survey of a few folks about placement of a graphic on the card, since anyone breathing has a better eye for graphics than I do.

I sent out two jpegs and said, "Which do you like better, #1 or #2?"

I think I asked maybe a dozen folks, far and wide. About 50% of those surveyed (I just wanted to say that to sound official) actually responded with something that went, "I like #(whatever) for this reason..." The other 50%? Oy... they sounded like Sally on "When Harry Met Sally"!

I got:
  • I like #1, but could you move the graphic to the left?
  • I like #1, but could you move the graphic to the right?
  • That font size needs to be bigger.
  • That phrase is stupid.
  • You shouldn't have that information on there.

Totally cracked me up AND let me realize I evidently have an opinion about it. So, I went with what I liked in the first place and that was that. And, yes, I will take some tator tots with my made-to-order business cards!

Sunday

Observations

In a foggy corner of my mind, I recall reading a book of fables as a child. I'm sure it was old even then. One of the fables told of a poor fisherman (one of the ways you know it's old) going to the 'wise man' in his village to inquire about what to do about his discontent wife: she was very dissatisfied with their tiny, tiny little home and was demanding he buy her a larger house. The wise man told him to keep a donkey in the house, and return in a week to see him. (you also know it's old because the wife didn't pack up and call the lawyer at this point). The next week, the wise man told the man to keep the donkey in the house and add two goats. This continued for a few more weeks until the house was a menagerie of farm animals. The final time, the wise man told the poor old man to take all of the animals out of the house. At this point, the wife was delighted with the vast spaciousness of her 'new' (animal free) house.

I think of that fable every year as we haul the Christmas decorations out of the house. *whew* I love my nice new, clutter-free house. (From December 1-25, they are called "decorations". Starting December 26, it is "clutter", from my vantage point).

Nothing kills any family harmony that may have built up over the holidays like the whole family "working together" to put Christmas away. Not a silent night, holy night.

Saturday

The Lingo, it is A-Changin'!

Recently, while volunteering at the elementary school, I heard a mom,
roughly my age, cheering on a kindergartener by saying, "All right!
Way to represent!"

I guess "good job!" is SO 2007...

Sent from my iPhone

Observation

I always get tickled when I go someplace (most recently Starbuck's) that asks for a name so that they may call my name when my order is complete. When I tell them 'Sarah', they invariably ask, "With, or without, an 'h'?"

Either way, will it change how you pronounce it when my order is ready?

Observation

With the obvious exception of the above-average intelligence of the readers of this blog that may also happen to stop in at a garage sale or two, is there an unwritten rule somewhere that says that all garage sale attendees must drive either rudely or stupidly or both when attending a garage sale? Is putting your car in park where you are really the best parking spot? Should you really back up in the middle of a busy residential street? Exactly how slowly can your "scout car" be going and thought to still be in actual motion?

These things make me wonder...

Observation

I have decided that my load of whites are the Legos of the laundry world: 40 bajillion little pieces of socks, dish towels, and underthings, and even when things are put in their proper place seem to leave more questions than answers. How can one man wear 10 undershirts in a week? How can one kid wear 13 socks in a week -- and get holes in 9?

I thank the Lord for each foot and body that wear those clothes, and for the over-the-top abundance of whites He has given us to wear and wash, and I even try to be thankful that each of the never-ending pieces that I fold gets me closer to the end of the load, but I hate them. I hate the whites and I hate touching them. I hate them. Now, I have some socks to sort and undies to put away.

Observation

I like to live in my own world where there are rainbows, lollipops, unicorns, and pink confetti most of the time. It's a very happy place and you are always welcome to visit, as long as you wipe your feet of ha-rumphing and huffling about that other world out there. For my birthday, Roxanne sent me a cake (virtually, of course) that is a grand illustration of my world. So, it was a rude awakening and shock to realize that the package of pig's ears I bought for my puppy to gnaw on were the actual ears of pigs (seriously, I have to swallow hard to keep breakfast down as I type that).

My husband finds it very funny that I would purchase a package with the label "Pig's Ears", then be surprised to find that they contain actual ears of pigs. In my happy world, 'Pig's Ears' contain rawhide (synthetic, of course) pieces in the shape of the ear of a pig.

Ew. No more of those in this house...

Observation

I used to think my children -- who "help" putting away the groceries -- were the reason my Baked Lay's look like bags of sand by the time I open them. Now I have decided that there is a job position at Frito Lay's that requires the employee to dance the entire opening act of Riverdance atop each bag of Baked Lay's.

Observation

I think I've mentioned a time or twelve, that I do, indeed, love my iphone ohsoverymuch. Because I love it so much, I would give it up before I would put it in one of these. No iphone should be exposed to such humiliation.

Observation

Sitemeter tells me it's time for another spelling lesson: I know it sounds like it's cleshay, but it's not. It is spelled: cliche. It's one of them furun werdz.

Observation

It always makes me laugh just a little bit when people leave their cars running while they unload all the recycling from their car.