Juggling Life

2011 To-Do List--Done!

I generally have a mental checklist of things I have to do swirling through my brain. To keep the swirling from evolving into churning, I try to do things as they pop up so I can cross them off the list. I have lived by the adage of never touching a piece of mail twice (if you pick it up, you deal with it) for many years and it has served me well.

There has been one item on my list that never made it to the top of the list, but remained on the list for the last (gulp) four months. When Suzy Soro came to stay with me for BlogHerAdjacent, she brought me a t-shirt. A t-shirt I really wanted.  A t-shirt that showcased her blog. A t-shirt, that once I took a photo of myself in it would provide me with a slot on her sidebar.

Naturally, with that kind of pressure, I wanted the photo to be a good one (also because I'm a bit vain). For a good photo, it's best to have another person man the camera.

Tonight I saw my opening. I showered late, I had makeup on, Social Butterfly was at home and the light outside was mellow (and therefore kind).

The stars were aligned.

So I put on my glitziest chandelier earrings and my t-shirt and handed SB the camera. SB kindly gave me approximately 13 seconds of her time for this silliness.

Snap.

My 2011 Checklist is complete:

• Get a master's degree--check
• Get a job--check
• Get Danger Boy off to college--check
• Take a photo wearing my Hollywood: Where Hot Comes to Die t-shirt--check

Bring on 2012!

Happy New Year's to all!

Just Checking In . . .

I have not posted in forever it seems--nor have I been around to visit any of you (unless you're also FB friends--I saw you. Congrats Gary on the Maker's Mark for Christmas). I have been knee-deep in all that is the holiday season and I'm just this side of being sick to death of eating, drinking and being merry. But not quite, which is why BIL and his family are coming for dinner tonight and The Girl Next Door's family tomorrow night. Then there's New Year's Eve . . . I hope I survive.

Thank goodness I came back on a Wordless Wednesday-I have a photo I wanted to share:

Jenn and RB-(Harvard '13 and Ivy League Softball Pitcher of the Year [also MVP's best friend growing up]).

This was from the party I went to last week. Right after this picture was taken, she want upstairs to change. I thought we looked cute, but I can see her not wanting to be twinsies with me! First party where many of the young 'uns were over 21. Now that will make you feel old!

I hope you are all having a lovely holiday season!

 

Holiday Open House 2011

I'm late to this party and I HATE being late. I would regale you with my story of a three-day internet outage which was totally Time-Warner cable's fault and I'm sooooo mad at them, but you don't have time for that--you have places to go and people to see.

So . . . yeah, my OPEN HOUSE post--you'll have to click here!

I will be around to visit all of you soon--I'm so looking forward to it.

As always, thanks to Jen for hosting.

 

Words Next Week . . .

I'm telling y'all I am wiped. My first (and last) full week of the daily grind has left me flat-out exhausted. Plus, there was brouhaha that I have to figure how to share without getting Dooced.

It's Friday night--Social Butterfly is making a simple dinner and she picked Mr. Fix-it up from the airport. Danger Boy comes home later and his girlfriend and I are tricking him by making him think she has to babysit so I'm picking him up alone. Then we'll pull the ol' switcheroo and she'll pick him up alone (I'm pretty sure that while he loves me, he'll be over the moon to see her).

MVP gets in tomorrow and we have three parties so far next week.

It'll be fun!

It'll be even more fun when I'm on break from the 23rd to the 3rd.

In the mean time . . .

Social Butterfly and Peanut at the Water Polo banquet--these guys gave a lovely thank you to their erstwhile team managers. The end of another era. Sigh.

 

The Marvels of Modern Technology?

Yet another inanimate object is out to get me . . .

I stopped at Costco for gas on the way home from work--the gas tank door was stuck and required me to flag down the attendant so he could pull the door open while I operated the switch that is supposed to unlock it.

Sigh.

This comes after I had to hop out of the car this morning to manually close the garage door because once again and for no apparent reason it just wouldn't close. This is a problem that NEVER happens when Mr. Fix-it is home.

Sigh.

Let's hope my alarm clock doesn't malfuncion because, for me, a 5:45 wakeup doesn't happen without assistance!

'Tis the season . . . for remembering

I was dusting Saturday morning (in preparation for the decorating extravaganza) and I opened a cabinet tucked into the corner of our billiards room (or, more accurately, our living room that contains a pool table).  The cabinet contains (along with a six-CD player added later) what was in 1981, a state-of-the-art  Kenwood stereo system—including an EQUALIZER! We seem to have replaced the 6-foot tall (I may be exaggerating by half) stereo speakers along the way, but I can assure you they were able to handle the bass.

In 1981, when my husband was a high school senior and my best friend, buying a “system” was not a purchase undertaken lightly. First of all, it was super-expensive—next to his Ford Pinto it would be the most expensive purchase he’d made. I remember the trips to the various stereo stores around town, “test-driving” all combination of components and manufacturers.

It is a testament to how much I enjoyed his company that I was happy to accompany him on these expeditions because my ability to differentiate between, or my interest in, sound systems is less than negligible. I’m assuming it’s a testament to how much he enjoyed my company that he invited me along—I’m pretty sure he’d already picked up on the fact that his judgment in this arena was far superior to mine.

I don’t really need the storage space in that cabinet, so the system will probably stay for a while longer. One of the nice things about being married to someone you knew when he was just a kid is the ability to picture him as that kid—which is just what happened while I dusted that obsolete Kenwood equalizer!

Comments I have loved this week . . .

Money can't buy you good taste but apparently it can get you a zoning variance. Yikes. And ick.

Posted by: Claudia from Idiot's Kitchen | December 02, 2011 at 10:41 AM

 

Speaking as a mom... you are just a concerned mother. Speaking as a former teenage girl... you're a crazy person. ; )

Posted by: Jenrantsraves | December 05, 2011 at 01:24 PM

 

I call my daughter my "Velcro Child". It started the day she was born and has continued for 23 years.

Posted by: Little Miss Sunshine State | December 07, 2011 at 12:22 PM

 

I prefer to use the word Fortunate.

Posted by: Smalltown Me | December 08, 2011 at 11:30 AM

In Which I Admit I'm Spoiled . . .

If you recognize your spoiled, does that preclude you being a brat?

I hope so.

In the interests of being a team player at work, I am teaching two classes for 10 days this month. What this means is that I am in a classroom from 7:45 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. Add in the morning commute (far, but not too congested) and the evening commute (horrendous) and I left my house today at 7 a.m and returned at 6:45 p.m.

What sucks about this? No spending time outside in the daylight and about two hours of free time before I need to think about getting ready for bed.

The fact that this is such a shock to my system just highlights how lucky I have been all these years to work very, very, very part-time and then part-time. I haven't always been conscious of what a blessing it is to have time in every day for a walk in the sun or an hour to read a book or write a post, but getting a taste of what, for many people, is the "daily grind" that defines their life, makes me realize how truly spoiled I've been lo these many years.

Of course with any black cloud there's a silver lining and mine is overtime pay; I think I'll just count that particular blessing as I creep eastward on the 78 at a glacial pace. I'll also be counting the days until I'm done!

 

Cuddle Bunny

It doesn't matter that she's 6 inches taller than me--she's still my cuddle bunny!

Wake me when high school is over . . .

This past weekend Social Butterfly and Peanut took a little trip to San Francisco. The origins of the trip were that Peanut is looking at an art school up there and her mother and grandmother wanted to take her to the Open House. Both girls are also applying to San Francisco State University and they have a couple of friends that are freshmen there. The plan became that all four would fly up Friday, do the Art School Open House on Saturday and then Peanut's mom and grandmother would return home and the girls would spend Saturday evening and Sunday on campus with their friends then fly home Sunday night.

It took me exactly three seconds to consider and approve this plan. That's how much faith I have that SB has a good head on her shoulders and is trustworthy.

On Saturday I got a couple of texts from SB and she sent me some cool photos.

I got this photo at 8:15, while I was relaxing at home, after seeing a movie, enjoying an Amstel Light and chatting with my friend Sandra. When Sandra left just before 11, I texted SB "I'm going to bed, just text me back and let me know what you're up to."

Now the thing about SB (and the reason for my quick okay on the trip) is that she ALWAYS texts me back.

I'm sure your beginning to see where this is going, right?

She didn't text me back. Neither did Peanut when I texted her. Neither girl answered their phone, either. They didn't text back at 1 or 3 or 4 or 6 either.

I really, really tried not to get to worried. I reassured myself that statistically the odds of any trouble befalling them were infinitesimal, 24-hour news cycle horror stories notwithstanding.

At 7 a.m. I called the father (a neighbor) of one of the students the girls were staying with to get her cell number. I also got her dorm hall and room number. Of course she didn't answer her phone, either--why would she, it was only 7 a.m

By this time Peanut's mom and I had spoken and she also hadn't heard from Peanut.

I was at the point where I could just picture this all unfolding as an episode of SVU (as I told myself that was a stupid and ridiculous way to think).

I took a breath and called SFSU campus police and asked them to go over to the dorm room, wake the girls up and have my daughter call me. They did and she did.

Why hadn't she answered her phone at 11 on a Saturday night when she was in the big city, free and unfettered and with no curfew?

She was asleep. They'd walked all over the city Saturday afternoon and evening and they were so wiped out they were asleep by 10.

My daughter made me frantic by being not partying the night away.

I was somewhat shame-faced and apologized for calling in the cavalary. Still, I was relieved of my worry that her body parts were scattered among different trash containers on Market Street.

I blame myself for the whole debacle--if I just would have said to SB, "Text me when you are in for the night" she would have done that. Also? I should have had the dorm hall and room number before she left and the direct phone line to the room.

What do you think? Am I a crazy woman who should probably be medicated or just another worried mother?

I'm signing off now to go pick my daughter and her friend up at the airport. Where I really hope everything goes smoothly--otherwise I'm going to need to call my doctor for a Xanax prescription.