To Mom, with Love

From last year and still entirely relevant. I hope you enjoy this walk down memory lane. I’m not being lazy or anything… okay, well, maybe a little. But hey, it’s Mother’s Day, I’m allowed.

Musings from a Tangled Mind

I’ve apologized and I’ve waxed somewhat poetic and throughout it all, I’ve tried to be completely honest about my hand in the plot to drive my mother insane.

my mother’s look from 1963 on

Oh, she did get me back for some of my shenanigans, although it may have taken a few years…but her curse worked. Worked very well, indeed.

Despite our demonic childish antics — and indeed, those that have continued into our adulthood, my mother has loved us through it all, my brother and me. And you know, I don’t think it’s because she had to. I think she just liked us. Still does, apparently. I can tell. I’m just not sure why.

Motherhood is the only job where your subordinates can do everything in the world to undermine you, yet you still excel in your career…still have a passion for your work…still have pride in your venture. If…

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Would You Like a Migraine With That?

Going out to a fine restaurant should be a relaxing experience. You get all dressed up and make the necessary reservations and… end up seated next to a group of rowdy restaurant goers who couldn’t care less that you’re out for the first time in two months, trying to have a quiet conversation with your significant other.

This has happened to all of us and though I should probably be used to it by now, I’m not. In fact, I can’t stand it. As many of you know, I hate people noise. Even in places where people noises are a given, I hate… umm… noise. You expect this kind of migraine-inducing behavior in a family-oriented establishment (I mean, kids, am I right?) but it’s not exactly the kind of ambiance you expect at a five-star restaurant.  Can kids make a hell of a lot of noise? Yes. Can adults have a few drinks and start blabbering at a volume comparable to a classroom of 3rd graders going on a field trip? Oh hell yes.

Just this past month (yeah, yeah, okay, so I don’t get out much), I visited a local restaurant with a reputation for its elegant atmosphere and delicious cuisine. Unfortunately, the layout of the tables meant that restaurant patrons had to sit incredibly close together – uncomfortably close. As in, I’m sorry my elbow hit you in the head as I tried to twirl my spaghetti with my fork close.

I was lucky enough to be seated directly next to a group of businessmen in flashy suits who had clearly had more than their fair share of drinks. It was difficult to tell if they were celebrating a job well done for one of their own or a general, we need to drink this week away kind of thing. Oh, and I don’t know who the hell George is, but whew! He sure seems bad at his job, and here he makes all that money too. What was upper management thinking!?

This domino effect of people struggling to hear over one another began with this table of drunken men and spread through the place like an obnoxious plague. My head was spinning, and I felt like I was a part of twelve different conversations that I had absolutely no desire to be included in. From the top picks for this year’s NFL draft to a heated argument between a young couple over their dog’s bathroom habits, my attention was being pulled from table to table no matter how hard I tried to center myself.

You know what doesn’t help matters? Unnecessarily loud music. I know, right? It seems like common sense, but there you go. Even the most elegant of establishments these days feels the need to recreate the joys of an outdoor concert… with the requisite bad sound equipment. If I wanted to go to a rave, I’d call up one of those friends I had in college who liked to get drunk and “vibe” to trance music.

Loud music only amplifies an already present problem (ha! See what I did there?). It’s one thing for a crowded bar to blast the latest hits at earth-shatteringly high levels, you expect that; but you shouldn’t really have to suffer through an ever-growing cacophony of noise in a place where you’re paying $30 for a damn side salad. Sorry, it just doesn’t scream “fine dining” to me. I can’t be the only one, right? Right!?

Read my Mind

Now you all know that I enjoy a special kind of torture, euphemistically called book clubs. I also love books of all kinds, including manga and young adult books.  I love books.  All books.

I’m seeing a trend now from my fellow “book lovers.” Apparently, there are rules, or at the least, guidelines. Who knew? For one, audiobooks aren’t considered books. Another that came up recently shocked me… and that’s really hard to do: Agatha Christie and her fellow funny, cozy mystery writers are scorned, much like sitcoms in television and McDonald’s to food critics.  In fact, these cozy, rainy night comfort-food mysteries aren’t just scorned, they aren’t counted as books at all.  They are sort of like a cheeseburger to a salad; empty calories for when you’re too lazy to read a real book. The fast food of literature, if you will.

Oh, there’s more.

Books are to be pristine, according to this new breed of book lover.  We’re not supposed to dog ear books (“oh my god, what are you, a monster?” they exclaim).

recently posted in one of my book clubs … to a resounding consensus

If a book they’ve ordered from Amazon has a slightly bent or nicked edge, they return it for a perfect specimen and complain about the seller. Now, you might say, sure, sure, I just bought a new book, I want it to be perfection itself. Yeah, well, they do the same thing for the used books they purchase. I wonder if these people went to college?  If they did, did they make notes on margins in their textbooks? Highlight sections?  Did they purchase *gasp* used books with both of those things (and worse)?  I’m amazed they survived.

If you read a lot, you quickly learn that used book sellers are your friend. The new breed of book lovers will lower themselves to buy used books, but they have extremely high expectations.  Much higher than my own requirements, which are simple: must have all pages and some semblance of a binding.

The new book lovers consider reading as a serious competition. One woman said she had just finished her 60th book for the year, and it was February. You think I’m joking. I’m not. I believe in setting goals, but good grief. Did you even read a word of any of them? If I asked you to write a sixth-grade book report on one, could you? I doubt it. This isn’t just a fast reader, this is an accomplished skimmer. She definitely counts Cliff Notes as books.

This same woman belongs to the group of book lovers who buy a book and, halfway through, realize they had read it before.  My fellow book club members make comments admitting to this foible frequently. So frequently, it’s almost funny.  How on earth do you not know you’ve read a book by the end of page five? Reading is supposed to be an enjoyable hobby, an escape from life sometimes, not a marathon of forgotten tomes. Visits to the library must be very interesting with this woman.  She probably roams the aisles loudly exclaiming, “Read it.  Read it. Oh, wait! Nope. Read it.”  I know I read a book just from looking at its cover or reading the insert. Maybe this is because I actually read the words of each book I choose.  I dog-ear like a psycho, and the covers are bent enough to cause this new breed of new book lovers to have strokes.

I agree that library books and borrowed books should be handled with care, just as you would when you borrow anything from someone. If it’s not yours, you handle it carefully.

However, my own books?  They’re well-worn. They’re read. They’re loved. And I remember every single one.

There is a place in my heart for all bookies, lovers of the written word, collectors of all kinds. I’m just too old-school to participate in competitions.

Which, by the way, I would win, hands down, lady.

Puppy Power

I try to be positive … I try to keep “I made it to Wednesday!” and “It’s one day closer to Friday!” in my mind. But I usually end up regressing to “It’s only Wednesday…” followed by an ugh or a blech.

It may be coincidence, but this was the first post on my Facebook feed this morning. Vividly accurate, I must say.

And how is YOUR Wednesday?

Easter Parade of Goodies

Better late than never, I guess, so, to all my friends, Happy Easter and Happy Passover! I hope the holiday, however you spend it, brought you peace and the love of good friends and family.  As for me, I think I’ve zoomed past the sugar rush and am headed for a candied crash. Let’s hope the marshmallow Peeps soften my fall.