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Call of Duty: Juror edition @GACourts #DeKalb

Posted in Politics, Random, tagged , , , , , , , on August 28, 2019| 1 Comment »

 

Dear DeKalb County:

I’m intrigued and impressed by your jury processing. I guess with a population of 752,088, you need to have your act together.

On Monday, I arrived at the courthouse as Juror 401 of 1,001 called. That’s a shocking number. In my experience in Chatham County, I had to call every night to see if my number was up the next day.

Not y’all.

You call everyone in.

Judges and attorneys get one day to make a decision to field a jury. And that’s genius because it puts pressure on people to settle.

While I waited to see if I was chosen (and by the way, I am NEVER chosen), I had the pleasure <sarcasm alert> of sitting between two of the kinds of people I hate: A guy watching videos with no headphones and a woman talking loudly on her phone.

Why, Sir? Why must you torture me?

The other people in the room were sitting quietly. But I was sandwiched between these two.

And the guy sat RIGHT NEXT TO ME, even though there were dozens of empty spaces all over the room. He was so close, I could smell his chicken-biscuit breath. I had to move down one chair.

It happens all the time. I can be in an empty movie theater, and the only other person will sit one seat over.

Why don’t people understand personal space?

[Insert deep cleansing breath.]

I’m not sure this is common practice, but it was surprising to me that one of the judges emerged to test out what he thought was a rousing stand-up routine.

It was, predictably, about civic duty and, unpredictably, the importance of driving under the speed limit.

At least my seat neighbors silenced themselves for the occasion.

A little while later, I was dismissed. My case was settled while I was seething.

But that part was not your fault, DeKalb County. You made the process as painless as possible.

See you in two years!
Beth

 

 

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Oh yes, it’s ladies night*: Behind the scenes #girlsnightout #Tuesdaytruth

Posted in Parenting, Random, tagged , , , , , , on August 20, 2019| 6 Comments »

Dear Dudes,

When you hear “girls’ night out” or “ladies weekend,” what do you think goes on?

One of my friends said, “Hair braiding and pillow fights in lingerie.” He’s been watching too much … of a certain … uh … genre.

Another said, “Drinking and dragging guys. And dancing too.”

In my experience, the latter is more accurate. But perhaps I don’t get out enough. Or it’s that I have fairly tame friends.

Here’s a peek into what happened at a recent get-together with some female friends of mine. We’ve been friends since we bonded in some work trenches more than 15 years ago.

THE GOOD

1. Pedicures. No ladies weekend is complete without a trip to the nail salon.

2. Exercise. All of us got in a little exercise by walking and talking on the beach.

Goat Yoga Lisa went a little further (naturally): Pushups at 10 p.m. Aimee provided resistance. I provided Eddie via FaceTime so he could critique her form.

THE BAD

1. Junk food. This was not a time to be healthy.

 

Just look at the food and beverages visible in this photo. Note that Becky has thoughts on Oyster Bay: “It’s no Sutter Home.”

2. Adult beverages. Some people come prepared.

THE UGLY

1. Celebrity behavior. If the trashy magazines we purchased with the wine and junk food are any indication, you are not allowed to pull your bathing suit out of your butt. For shame, Britney! (Just kidding. That’s normal behavior for all of us.)

2. Everyone but us. This is the real story of ladies weekend: It’s a time to vent and commiserate. Stop, collaborate and listen.

Becky regaled us with stories of the Top Tier Type A moms at her children’s school who are wound up about pee on the seat in the bathrooms. Apparently Decatur and East Lake are filled with choice personalities who are EXTREMELY involved in a variety of aspects of community life. One of her friends is consumed with a street sign.

Aimee: Does she have a lot of time on her hands?
Becky: Well, she’s single and has no kids.
Lisa: That means yes.

And speaking of kids, yes, we tell those tales too. We’re trying hard not to scar them like we were scarred.

Aimee: When I was 12, my stepfather gave me a shirt from Hooters that said “More than a mouthful.”
The rest of us: <Loud groans of dismay>

The bottom line?

Yes, there was some drinking and dragging.

A couple of us did a few steps of “Single Ladies,” but I’m not sure I’d classify that little bit as dancing.

I did toss a throw pillow at Lisa, but we didn’t braid each other’s hair.

The sleepwear of choice was the T-shirt/pajama pants combo, not lingerie.

So, there you have it: A peek behind the ladies weekend curtain.

Probably not all that you thought it would be.

Sorry, not sorry.

They don’t exist to please you. In fact, you guys are more often than not the reason they exist.

🙂

Love you anyway,
Beth

 

 

* Thanks, Kool & The Gang!

 

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Who needs bars when there’s Office Depot? #SundayStory

Posted in Random, Uncategorized, tagged , , , on August 4, 2019| Leave a Comment »

Dear Aggressive Fellow in Office Depot:

I’m not sure I adequately displayed my shock at your approach in the printer ink aisle.

I thought maybe you thought I worked there.

But then when you got very close and asked me if I had a husband or boyfriend, I knew I was wrong.

It was flattering, for sure. Especially as I had my hair piled on top of my head, didn’t have makeup on, and was wearing a Fishbone shirt and raggedy shorts.

But when I said, “Yes,” you were skeptical.

“Are you sure?”

I held up my left hand.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“But I like you. Are you sure you don’t want to come home with me?”

“I’m sure. Thanks anyway.”

Then you dropped this line:

“I’m Guatemalan.”

OH! Well in THAT case!

But seriously, “a new man” was not on my shopping list.

And I don’t think the lady you were with would have appreciated your activity 10 feet away.

But you did give me a great story to tell, so thanks.

And you do have moxie.

Impressed,
Beth

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‘Ride Wit Me’ on our family night out, annotated @Nelly_Mo #ThursdayThoughts

Posted in Parenting, Random, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 25, 2019| 5 Comments »

Dear Cellairis Amphitheatre at Lakewood:

I had never visited you before last night, but I’m old enough to remember when you were just the Lakewood Amphitheater — much less fancy, and inexplicably easier to get to via public transportation.

(Side note: What is Cellairis? A constellation? Anxiety drug? Wiener go-go juice?)

Anyway, a $20 ticket special for Nelly, TLC and Flo Rida was enough to get me off my couch and onto your lawn — with the kids even.

However, when the first cloud of weed smoke wafted over, I began to question my parenting choices.

I’m not the only one who should question choices.

Take, for example, this scene:

Let’s break this down.

In blue, a gaggle of girls in Uniform 1.

In red, a gaggle in Uniform 2.

In green, the one dork they brought along to be their Snap photographer.

They didn’t even talk to each other. Or listen to the music. They just took photos for 30 minutes.

And let’s talk about the booze. Everything seemed sold out in the concession area, but you could buy plenty on the lawn.

Anyway, Nelly was great, and helped me redeem myself with Dominic, who thought I was dragging him to a country concert. (He’s lazy, I’ve told you. Too lazy to Google, apparently.)

But my main interest was TLC. T-Boz and Chilli have still got it, from what I could tell. (Your acoustics made them sound like they were singing out of a portable speaker at a pool party.)

Once we heard “Waterfalls,” we bounced — along with hundreds of other ’90s music lovers who had to work the next day.

So thanks for an entertaining night. It’s unlikely I’ll be back. I guess I just prefer smaller, more intimate venues.

It’s not you; it’s me.

😉

Your friend,
Beth

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Can we agree (at least) that U.S. healthcare is broken in ways large and small? #TuesdayTruth

Posted in Random on July 9, 2019| Leave a Comment »

Dear Kaiser Permanente:

I’m going to have to ask you to GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER.

It does not appear to me that you are doing what you need to do to ensure all records are accurate and in one place.

I submit as evidence Exhibit A:

That letter is not the problem (except that you did say you would CALL me, not send a letter).

The problem is this: I received that missive on the same day I received Exhibit B:

So how did I get the results of a mammogram that you think I didn’t schedule?

I also submit Exhibit C, a voicemail from one of your people:

Great customer service, no? No. This was a message for Eddie — one of four messages, two in one day — about his knee surgery. It was left on my phone, despite the fact that I have given you Eddie’s number at least a dozen times.

So, I’m left thinking you have filled your offices with ineptitude.

Please reevaluate your procedures and paper trail.

Thanks,
Beth

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Missing the mix tape #ThursdayThoughts

Posted in Random, Technology, tagged , , , , , , on June 20, 2019| Leave a Comment »

Dear Music Lovers,

I last wrote to you more than a year ago to share my favorite playlists.

I was reminded of that post today because I had lunch with an old friend who was influential in developing my musical tastes.

He created a fantastic mix tape for me back in the day.

I don’t save a ton of things — I’m not a hoarder! — but I saved all the mix tapes I received. As I knew Mike and I were meeting, I dug his out this morning to bring to lunch to show him. (I did this in the living room in my underwear, scarring Gideon for life. But that’s another story.)

I miss the days of mix tapes. They were an essential part of the courting ritual. You liked someone, then carefully crafted a tape that would do three things:

1. Indicate your feelings. You could be obscure or obvious.

2. Introduce the recipient to new music. And show off your own coolness. Or not.

3. Tell a complete story. Flow was key. It was a narrative.

I always went one step further (of course) and decorated the paper sleeve. I would find a great image from a magazine or newspaper (I’m old, y’all), cut it precisely, and glue it to the cardboard. I’d list all the songs on the other side.

It was a task to create these because you had to time everything out perfectly to fit the tape plus switch out albums.

Playlists are easier to create and share today, but I don’t get the impression they are as much a part of the getting-to-know-you phase. They certainly don’t provoke the same feeling as when someone you liked would hand you a tape. You couldn’t wait to get in your car (!) or get home to listen to it to see if they felt the same way you did.

For the record, Mike and I were and are great friends. No big romance. The purpose of this tape was to introduce me to new music. (But it’s true we were very flirty.)

I recreated it in iTunes:

Mike was tickled that I still had it.

“These songs definitely represent an era,” he said.

True that.

Here’s a picture of Mike taking a picture of the playlist. He was as amused as I was.

If you’re feeling industrious, send me a playlist. It can have a message. Or not. I’m always open to new music, as I think I’ve demonstrated.

Vinyly yours,
Beth

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My coworker clearly wants me dead #SundaySweat

Posted in Random, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on June 16, 2019| 2 Comments »

Dear Miriam,

I thought we were friendly work colleagues. Why do you want to kill me? I can think of no other reason you would invite me to “Core Power Yoga.”

Core Power Yoga, aka Satan’s Clubhouse

I thought yoga was supposed to be this calming, centering, channeling-your-inner-Gandhi kind of thing.

But add the “core power” modifier, and this is some next-level madness.

I’m not sure why you go to this “sculpt” class at 6, right after the hot yoga class. That means the room is 145° at least.

But there I was, right on time, because of your invitation.

The class starts. I’m keeping up. What seems like two hours pass. I look at my watch through the waterfall cascading from my forehead.

6:16

I wish for death.

6:23

For those who don’t know what this class is like, let me describe it:

Mix the Jane Fonda workout with the calisthenics from eighth-grade gym class. Sprinkle on some Southern California namaste seasoning. Add an Imagine Dragons soundtrack. Set it on the surface of the sun.

6:32

My face is throbbing. I might pass out.

I leave the room to get air, water and the number of a medical professional.

I ask the lithe girl at the front desk how long this class lasts.

“Hmmm. Not sure if it’s 60 or 75 minutes. Let me check,” she says.

“75 minutes?!” I squeak.

“Oh it’s 60 minutes.”

Even so.

The exit was so close. Sadly, I had left the locker key in the pool of sweat near my rental mat.

6:47

I think it’s the cool-down phase. Not sure. All I know is my heart is racing like I just outran a bear.

6:51

I’m certain that I’m clinically dead.

6:54

I’m deftly performing the Patrick Star pose on my mat. I feel a slight breeze. Perhaps I’m on a gurney being rushed to the ER?

No.

The instructor is walking around the room flapping a towel.

She appears to be flapping more over me.

I’m sure it’s because she spotted my soul leaving my body.

7:00

The class is over. The instructor says, “Sorry it was hotter than usual, and the workout was more challenging than usual.”

Oh. How lucky for me.

I slither to the locker room on liquefied legs.

Time to survey the damage. Warning: graphic images (i.e., I’m hideous).

Let’s take a closer look, shall we? (Be thankful this blog doesn’t offer Smell-O-Vision.)

What’s that you say, Miriam? Show the air-conditioned, rested (i.e., sane) people at home the back? Sure.

That was Thursday. Today is Sunday, and still everything hurts. I can’t lift my arms. How can I have ribcage pain, Miriam?

I’m not sure what I did to you, but I apologize for whatever it was.

Please forgive me.

I’ll never do it again.

I also likely will never do this class again, despite the assurances from the instructor that I did “an awesome job for my first time.”

Sincerely,
Not downward dog but no thanks, dawg (aka Beth)

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Introducing a Rob of all trades, including clothing consultant/personal shopper #helpinghusband

Posted in Advice, Random, tagged , , , , , , , on May 25, 2019| 2 Comments »

Dear Lisa (aka Goat Yoga Lisa),

You are a great friend. One of the best. Not only do you play Bingo with me, write guest posts, and let me stay in your house all the time, but you also loan me your husband.

Well, Rob loaned himself, really.

And it truly was a shock to all of us hanging out in your living room.

When I said I needed a dress to wear to do the weather* because the chroma wall hated the one I brought, you said you would go with me.

But then Rob piped up and said, “I’ll go with you.”

You, Gunner and I swiveled to look at him. Silence. Two eye blinks each.

Me: “Wait. You will go DRESS SHOPPING with me?”
Rob: “Yeah! I’ll go.”

Maybe it was the wine talking. He vinoteered.

Or maybe he is jealous of all the blog space devoted to you.

Or maybe he just wanted to hang out with his pal Beth.

He might have regretted it in the morning. But then I brought him bacon in bed. (That sounds way saucier than it was. You were there. You made the bacon. You suggested I take it to him.)

He might have regretted it when we got ready to go. But then he filled a to-go cup with wine for fortification.

He might have regretted it when we got in the car. But then I put the convertible top down and fired up a great rock playlist.

Rob seemed to be having a good time in the store. This was his first selection:

img_8037

Thank God he was just joking.

Then he suggested a housedress with a belt. Ha ha, very funny.

We headed to the fitting room with three contenders. Rob, the fitting room lady and I unanimously chose the third option.

We were in and out of the store in 15 minutes. For real. He was in shock.

Rob: “It’s like a blur.”
Me: “You didn’t even finish your wine.”
Rob: “I was just sipping, but now I don’t need to.”

We did have to stop by the CVS on the way home. But Rob even helped with the ridiculous receipt.

We were back at your house just 30 minutes after we left.

Me: “Thanks for the date!”
Rob: “It was fun!”
Me: “Did you actually just say it was fun?”
Rob: “Yeah, it really was.”

I’m pretty darn proud of us.

To my additional astonishment (that Rob — full of surprises), he really took ownership of the situation. After my segment in the early newscast, you told me he said “his” dress looks great.

Then Gunner sent me this message:

And then the man, the myth, the dress baron himself weighed in after the later newscast:

So, I give thanks to you for the loaner spouse, and loads of thanks to Rob. He’s like my hubs away from home!

See you when I’m back in Savannah.

Love to you and the super shopper you married,
Beth

* I can’t believe I’m still filling in at the TV station after all these years.

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Houston, we have a problem. #humpday (for real)

Posted in Random, tagged , , , on May 15, 2019| Leave a Comment »

Dear Biofreeze:

I just want to say thanks. You are the only thing keeping me going at the moment.

Every year, I get a pinched nerve in my neck. Just once a year. It’s weird, I know, but it has been happening like clockwork since I was in college.

And for a couple of days, I walk around like Quasimodo.

Felt cute. Might delete later.

My former go-to remedy was this amazing balm I bought in France. But when I opened it up this time, I discovered it had liquefied. Ick.

Sometimes my pinched nerve resolves itself in a day or so. When it doesn’t, my next step is massage therapy.

“Houston” (really) tried to help me yesterday. During the massage, he shared with me all of his knowledge about the various muscle groups and trigger points and fascia and the arm bone connected to the blah blah blah. The guy would not shut up.

(Seriously, though: Please don’t try to chat during my massage. I’m not paying you to talk.)

It didn’t help. Biofreeze, you got me through the night.

I finally cried “Uncle!” and went to the the chiropractor.

Dr. Eric practically wrung me out like a dishrag accompanied by sounds like a pine log on a fire.

I assume I’ll feel better soon.

In the meantime, you are making movement manageable.

Gratefully,
Beth

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Not to make waves, but SHUT UP! #WorkoutWednesday

Posted in Random, tagged , , , , , , , , on May 8, 2019| Leave a Comment »

 

United States Olympic Training Center this ain’t.

Dear H2Oldsters,*

Now that I’ve lost the equivalent of nine five-pound bags of sugar (!), it’s time to firm up what remains. Taking on those wobbly bits means I take on water — aerobics in the YMCA pool.

Why that and not some other group exercise class?

  1. I don’t like to sweat.
  2. It’s easier on the joints.
  3. I feel like a badass when I can do all the exercises you can’t.

Sorry. (Not sorry.)

Yes, I’m about 30-40 years younger than you. Wet behind the ears, even. (Yuk, yuk. Sorry. I am sorry.)

But it isn’t that.

Here’s the thing:
I bet you COULD do all the exercises if you would SHUT YOUR BIG YAPPERS and try.

Elderly avengers assemble!

From the moment you get in the pool, you do not stop talking. The class begins, you keep at it. People like me who are there to GET STUFF DONE have to swim around you.

Why you gotta be like that?

For real: Why are you there? Why bother putting on a bathing suit? Just meet the other crones at Starbucks or whatever. Or hang out in the Y lobby and chat. There are comfy couches there. Easy on the bones.

At the very least, go to the other end of the pool.

If you do, all this will be water under the bridge. (Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s too easy.)

Yours through hell and high water,
Beth

* Come on! That’s a little funny, no?

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