I am not a threat to the public

I had to mail something today at the post office.  Your typical place for doing this.

Today I realized that the post office is the place to work if you are unhappy. Or, if you like to frown as you stand in a line.

When I entered building I immediately got one of those flat rate shipping boxes and pondered if it would be cheaper to find my own box and just mail it, but alas I was too lazy and opted to get screwed over if that would so happen to be. (<~~  Not sure if that is proper English but bite me if you care about whether or not it is.)

I placed my items inside the box and looked around for a pen to address the box.  There were no pens.  Well, except for one. But it was being used.  So I stood in line being creepy and watched as a lady addressed some cards.  Then as she was about to put the pen in her purse, I asked if I could use it.  She was very polite and not from America and let me use it.  I wanted to ask her where she was from but I thought that might be racist or something so I just filled out my labels and handed it back to her and thanked her.  She smiled and said "It's so nice to not be prepared so you have something to do when you stand in line!"  I laughed and said "Yeah, I'm never prepared for anything."  When suddenly the first person in line shot us a glare for speaking.  If looks could kill, it would only be appropriate because we were in the 2nd street post office if you know what I mean.

So we both shut up because we were both afraid of the scary man looking lady first in line.

We waited for-ever!  2 employees working behind the counter and it seemed every time they had to make a transaction they had to run to the back to get more stamps or something.  So a man from the back came up and looked at the line and went into the back again.  He resurfaced 5 minutes later and noticed the line hadn't moved so he called someone off their break and went into the back again.  2 minutes later he came up again and asked if anyone was doing a pick up or had something they didn't need to pay for and we all stared at him.  Except one lady who stepped forward and had a long list of things and she ended her rant with "I'm going to Africa."  All she needed was a box so I don't know why she had to announce that she was going to Africa.  Foreign lady and I learned from the first lady in line to just glare at everyone that speaks so that's what we did.

So finally the line started moving.  And then that person came off their break and it was my turn.  I gave him my parcel and he went through a laundry list of questions without even looking at me because he asks the same questions day in and day out and the last question was "Is there anything fragile, liquids or anything else that could be destroyed in shipping?"

I politely responded "Only if it catches on fire."

He started laughing really hard but then the smile on his face was wiped off as he remembered 9/11 and so did I.  We shared a look at each other and I said "there is nothing but paper inside this box."  And he took my credit card without taking his eyes off me.  And he swiped the card.  Then handed it back to me.  And then I left.

Stupid Bin Laden.  Nothing can be funny anymore.

Happy Halloween

So this story didn't happen on Halloween but aside from being a parent, this is the scariest thing that has ever happened to me.

As a young teenager I held a job that many teenagers hold.  Babysitter.  I mainly babysat Saturday mornings, but sometimes I was required on weeknights.  

There was a boy and a girl.  The boy always went to bed without a problem.  He was used to routine and he stuck to it.  The girl on the other hand was a princess.  She didn't like going to sleep in her own room at night,  and she was afraid of the dark.  So the routine with her became letting her fall asleep on the couch and then carry her into her bed.   Not long after this began, I learned she was a sleep talker.  Fun at first, but it lost it's flare so I soon learned that when she started talking it was time to put her in bed.

One night, I was watching cable tv (a luxury at that time) and the girl was drifting asleep on the couch.  The lights were off and I became entranced in what ever show was on at 9:00pm at night.  The girl began to talk so I set the remote down and got up and walked over to her.  As I got a couple feet away, I noticed her eyes were wide open and they were set on me.

"Oh, you're awake.  Do you need a drink?"

Blank stare, and no answer.

"Hey, what did you say?" I prodded to no avail.

I felt something was off so I took a step closer and leaned in and said her name.

At the sound of her name she instantly sat straight up and her eyes were fixed on mine.
Her face glowed in the reflection of the television.  Her hair was disheveled and frizzy.  She didn't blink. Not once.

My heart began to race as I said "Hello!  Ash!  Are you awake!??!"  And she kept staring.  Then she began to mumble.

"What!?" I spat out in a whisper.

She repeated her mumble.

"Ashton!  Wake up!"

And she laid back down.  Still staring at me.  Not blinking.

She finally closed her eyes and turned her head.

She had a tv in her room so I left her on the couch and watched tv in there until her mom got home.

I swear I'm not high

So I went to the bathroom today at work.  Not a ground breaking experience but something did happen that was worth a blog.

Whilst on the throne, I looked down at the floor and noticed a cute little centipede, no longer than an inch, making its way to who knows where.  I watched as its tiny little legs made wave like ripples through its body.  It was almost poetic.   Then I witnessed it making a zig zag formation and as my little bug went on, I thought maybe it would walk in the depression of the tiles, but no, it turned it's head and again the path turned jagged.

This puzzled me.  Why wouldn't this damned bug walk in a straight line?  Then I pondered, why do I expect it to?  Does this bug know where it is traveling to?  Do I know where I am traveling to?  Do I walk in straight lines? 

Sometimes I feel like people expect me to walk in the depression of the tiles.  An indentation that they made themselves and expect me to just follow along.

So then I thought, way to go little bug!  Do your own thing!  I don't know where you are going, and I don't know where I am going, but we are going to find our own paths to get there!  And then the wave motioned body crawled out of my sight and I realized where I was.  So I finished my business and exited the stall. 

Kind of intense for a bathroom break eh?

Feets don't fail me now!

You know what is really funny later, but isn't so much at the time?  When you sit on the toilet for too long and your legs fall asleep.

I have encountered this problem a few times thanks to my smartphone's access to internet, games, texting, and whatnot.  

I wasn't feeling to well at work tonight so I was going through my checklist of things, have I eaten today? Have I had enough water?  Did I poop yet?   Well, I did eat some pizza that I am now regretting, but I did need some water, and then I decided to take that trip to the bathroom.

I knew I wasn't going to be done yet, but that feeling of dead weight in my legs began to sink in.  And then I started to panic.  Are my legs going to wake up in time to walk me out of here?  What if I fall?  That would be embarassing, and I don't remember the last time these stalls were mopped!?

So I said a prayer after I did my paperwork and slowly stood.  Okay good, they woke up.  Here we go to wash our hands.  By the time I made my way to the sink that ridiculous pins and needles feeling began to prickle and tickle my feet with every step.  And I thanked God that my older brother Matt wasn't around because the last time his leg fell asleep I started slapping it.  I could only imagine the pay back I would have received.

After a sufficient hand washing, I began to make my way down the hallway giggling.  Are you aware of how strange it is laughing like a small child by yourself in the middle of a 2000 square foot foyer?  Which made me laugh harder.  So not only was my body torturing itself by tickles, I had the giggles. 

Now back in my office with the normal feeling in my legs, I feel slightly better physically and mentally, I am probably crazy, because I am thinking, could you imagine this happening to the president?  The Pope?  Colin Powell?  And any other major figure.  Try not to laugh at the thought of that as they walk towards a group of people with that stiff leg, slow step into the public eye.

I Laugh in the Face of Children

I love my nieces and nephews dearly.  I think they offer great comedic relief at times when conversations with adults lack personality. conversations with kids just go better sometimes.

That is of course, unless you are talking to my 5 year old niece that happens to know everything and will gladly tell you so in an argument.

One particular day, my patience was wearing particulary thin with the child so I was doing my best to favor her three year old brother because that is just how i deal with children, I play them off one another.  

My nephew and I share a common interest in the show Fraggle Rock.  My favorite character is "The Great, and All Knowing,  Incredible Trash Hep. Meeeeehh"

The best part about the whole thing is the whiney "Meeeeehhh" by her introductors Phino and Grunge, the rats that discovered her and act as her lackeys.  So my nephew and I will randomly go up to each other and say "TRASH HEAP!" and the other will respond with a hearty "Meeeeeeeh"

So my niece, not one to miss an opportunity for redemption, runs up to me and goes, "Hey Julia! Uhhh....  uhmm..... uhhhhh......" and then she blankly stared at me and said "GARBAGE PILE!!! Ewwwwww."

And there we have it.  she committed fully to what she was saying and she looked like a buffoon.  and thats all I ask out of life.  To make sure that every5 yea r old has a moment to bring themselves off their pedestals and just see to it that they fail with confidence.  Because God knows all we need on this earth is a 5 year old that knows it all.

Typical West Ender

I went on a service retreat this past weekend with some students.  At our work sites there were plenty of times for bonding and chats about nothing in particular.

One of those chats we had was about an experience this teenage girl had at the Mississippi Valley Fair.   Her friend's dad picked up the group of girls and on the drive home he was doing as a good parent would by asking about the day.

One of the girls began a story about a group of people that they saw.  Now, before I go any further, this is a group of kids that come from a more privileged background than your typical Quad Citians.

She began to describe a man that had been partaking in alcohol consumption, wore a wife beater and blue jean cut offs.  The father's response was "Typical Westenders"

For a moment as this story went on, I thought about defending my home territory but ultimately decided after perusing my memories that the Father was right.  The west end of Davenport is your typical white trash.  And tonight at Rockingham Hy-Vee, I realized, so am I.

I was talking to Mike over the phone on my way home from work about dinner.  Sebby was in the back seat passed out.  We decided it was too hot to grill out, but not too hot for a hot n ready from Little Caesars.  So I hung up and dialed in for a Supreme.  Its my fave.

While driving home I began thinking about how much I appreciate my husband's hard work ethic and I thought, its Friday night!  My man deserves a beer!  So after picking up the "zah" I headed to my local grocers and selected a 6 pack of Amberbock for my hubby.

On a Friday night of a holiday weekend, I stood in line for check out.  Baby on my right hip, and a 6 pack in my left hand.  Got a few weird looks but no one said anything. And I realized all at once.  The only thing keeping me from looking like a true west ender was that it was a fancy bottle 6 pack of Amberbock and not 30 case of Keystones.

I walked out of the store with the baby on my hip and my head held high.
Happy Fourth everyone!  Now get out there and celebrate America by blowing up a small portion of it!

Compromise.... We haz it.

Mike and I have started a wonderful thing.  We call it Monday Night Grocery getting.   Thats right.
It begins on Sunday.  Over dinner, we discuss the foods that tempt our taste buds and plan our dinner meals for Monday through Sunday.

The on Monday night, we pack up Lil' Sebastian and we head out to Wal-Mart and get the baby food for the week.  Then we take a ride over to Hy-Vee and get the grown up food for the week.

This all sounds mature and domestic, but we are deep into week 2 of this adventure and I am already seeing flaws in the system.  You see, Thursday night this week is supposed to be salad.  I hate salad.  I don't see it as a main course.  Not even with grilled chicken on top.  I want sides, and a real meat.  What can you side with salad when the salad is just a larger portion of a side?

I decided to get creative.  Tonight, for dinner, I am making cheeseburger salad.  Its basically the most awesome thing I've ever thought of.  Picture this, lettuce, tomato, cheese, onion, croutons.  Your typical salad no?  Add this, pickles, and ground beef.  Bam.  Cheeseburger salad.  Now, do I do ketchup as a dressing, OOOORRRRRR  Add bacon bits and stick with a classic Ranch dressing for a bacon ranch burger salad?  

Too much?