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Posts Tagged ‘Bright ideas’

Twerk it, girl!

Posted in Random, tagged , , , on August 26, 2013| Leave a Comment »

Oh Miley

Dear Miley,

By now, you’ve likely slept off the adrenaline rush from last night’s performance at the VMAs. You have undoubtedly noted the less-than-stellar reviews of your presentation. Many people are wondering now (and were wondering last night), “What was Miley thinking?”

Will Smith and family react

Will Smith and family were fairly shocked, I’d say.

I bet I know what you were thinking.

I bet it was, “I don’t want to be known as Hannah Montana anymore.”

I get it. Many child stars go through the same thing. Look at Britney and Lindsay. Heck, even look at Judy Garland!

Reinvention is the name of the fame game. When Christina Aguilera wanted to show us she was all grown up, she gave us the “Dirrty” video (which made us feel like we could get herpes from contact with our TVs).

When Julie Andrews wanted to shed her wholesome Mary Poppins image, she took off her top in “S.O.B.”

Notice a theme emerging here. I don’t want to scream “gender issues,” but there is a problem. Why do women feel like they have to get naked, or nearly naked, to shed an image? In running away from Rachel Green, even Jennifer Aniston has headed down that path with “Horrible Bosses” and “We’re the Millers.”

Jennifer Aniston

And usually, the response is shock and dismay (OK, maybe not in Aniston’s case, but still). And the level of outrage seems greater than when male stars try to break out of their mold.

For example, there is no massive backlash against Bieber. Chris Brown seems to be doing just fine. Even Danny Bonaduce has a regular gig now.

Maybe this is on my mind because today is Women’s Equality Day.

Yes, it would have been nice if you had taken the Ron Howard route to respect. You didn’t. OK. All the haters need to just quiet down now and let you work this out. (Robin Thicke and his wife are the only ones who get to complain if they want.)

I hope you will consider carefully your next move. And I hope it doesn’t involve bending over and wiggling.

You stay classy, Miley.

Best wishes,
Beth

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Home, sweet home

Posted in Parenting, Random, tagged , , , on July 21, 2013| 2 Comments »

Captain’s Log, Day 6 and 7

At long last, we are home.

30 hours of driving
+ 1,903 miles
+ hundreds and hundreds of dollars
= a trip we won’t repeat.

There were some good moments (“Wicked,” pierogies, seeing family, Roadside America, Crayola Factory) and some bad (Dad and I are not quite on speaking terms).

We are planning our next trip to the New York/Pennsylvania area, but we will not drive. It’s just exhausting for a family that does not much care for road trips. We prefer to fly.

20130721-213933.jpg
The highlight of the drive back was a detour to the Lincoln Memorial.
The low point was the traffic everywhere. Where was everyone going this weekend?

I’m exhausted. Going to work tomorrow will be a relief.

And then my mother-in-law arrives.

Stay tuned …
Beth

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Killing me softly

Posted in Random, tagged , , , , on July 15, 2013| Leave a Comment »

Captain’s Log, Day 1 Day .5:

We were supposed to be approaching Easton, Pa. — my father’s homeland — in his RV by now. Yes, an RV. Specifically, an RV filled with my dad, his wife, their four dogs, two birds and cat, plus Eddie, the boys and me.

Pause for Xanax break.

Yet I am writing this at my father’s kitchen table.

Why?

Because my father insists I told him we would leave on July 18 instead of what I actually told him, which was July 14. I even confirmed this via text.

The evidence

He did confirm with the doctor that he could go, and we’ve been talking or texting every other day for weeks.

Those of you who work a regular M-F job know that it would be crazy talk to decide to go on a week-long vacation on a Thursday. You leave on a Saturday so that you only have to take one week of vacation off but you can have more time because of the bookending weekends. Right?

Anyway, my dad got it in his head that we were leaving Thursday, July 18. We were about to leave our house Saturday, July 13, as planned to go to his house but there was a huge storm. I texted him to tell him we’d leave once the storm abated a little. He immediately called me.

Dad: “What are you talking about? Why are you coming up now?”
Me (incredulous): “Because we are leaving to go to Pennsylvania tomorrow.”
Dad (also incredulous): “We aren’t leaving until next week.”
Me: “Um … no, that’s not the plan.”
(Argument ensues.)

No big deal right? He and Kat throw some things in the RV and get ready to go as planned. They are retired, so no worries.

Yeah, well. The RV is in the shop getting a workover and new tires. It won’t be ready until sometime today. Maybe. And in the meantime, we have to look at this:

The eyes, the eyes!

Surely you must remember my stepmother’s particular interest.

If you are a praying person, please do so for me now. If you are not, then simply wish me well.

Updates to come, of course.
Beth

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Adventures in babysitting

Posted in Parenting, tagged , , , , on July 7, 2013| 2 Comments »

Dear New Babysitter:

I hope we didn’t scare you when we peeled out of the driveway without a backward glance. We just couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Yes, I know you had only known three of us (Eggy, Sophia and me) for five minutes. I’m not sure you knew their daughter’s name. Had you even laid eyes on our youngest? I don’t even know where he was when you arrived.

We love our kids, of course. Really. But we need those moments where we are Beth, Eddie, Eggy and Sophia and not Mama, Daddy, Daddy and Mama.

Here’s what we heard all day:
“Mama, I’m hungry. I’m so hungry, Mama!”
“He won’t let me have the bow and arrows. He’s had them all day!”
“He’s being a jerk to me! He called me ‘stupid.'”

This is what we wanted to hear:
“Would you like an appetizer with that?”
“What kind of drink would you like?”
“Would you like a refill?”

Thanks to you, we were able to have adult conversations while we sipped martinis, ate delicious food (made more delicious by the fact that someone else cooked the meal), and watched Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy cement their homance.

No one badgered us to get him a drink/feed her/play with him/get her Merida dress/mediate a fight/find a Bey Blade/get a Bandaid/put on Netflix/let him watch “Spongebob,” etc.

We tried not to leave you with too much to do. We made sure they were bathed and fed. Bedtime was on you. All you had to do was keep them alive until we got home.

You did and they were. Thank you.

From the bottom of our jaded, frazzled, exhausted little hearts, we thank you.

Sincerely,
Beth

babysit

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To Paula Deen the Butter Queen

Posted in Politics, Random, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on June 27, 2013| 8 Comments »

Paula in happier days

Dear Paula Deen:

I know you are going through a rough time right now. Even with the chaos in Texas (go Wendy!) and the Supreme Court decision on that stupid Defense of Marriage Act (you know how I feel about that), you are still in the spotlight.

By all accounts (from people who know you, worked for you, still work for you, were raised by you, etc.) you are not racist by definition. Hard-driving, stubborn and raunchy, perhaps, but not racist. The plaintiff in that year-old lawsuit (who is white, surprisingly) even admits she never heard you make racist remarks.

It’s never OK to use THAT word (or any derogatory word like that). But I’m willing to cut you some slack on a 30-year-old mistake. (Especially as you apologized. Repeatedly.)

I mean, let’s be honest here: Who hasn’t had some tragic lapses in judgment? Let’s look at some of the decades-old moments for which I need to atone:

  1. St. Patrick’s Day 1993
  2. Fancy Dress 1989
  3. That one time at drama camp …
  4. Dating the dude from Macy’s receiving department (My dad’s observation: “Doesn’t that guy own any shirts with sleeves?”)
  5. This dress:Prom 1985 (It’s no wonder I don’t have a stitch of lace in my closet now. I reached my Designated Lace Quota in 1985.)
  6. This hair: '80s hair(Aqua Net was my best friend.)
  7. While we’re at it, this hair too: Blonde ambition(The ill-advised blonde ambition phase. What the what?)
  8. Being a mean girl to a nice boy who asked me to a dance. And not being a mean girl to a not-so-nice boy who asked me to a different dance. (That boy ended up talking through dinner about all the times in his life he had barfed. I sure know how to pick ’em.)
  9. Not buying that house on Jones Street.
  10. Allowing Neil the Cockatiel to escape the dorm suite I shared with his mom.

I’m sure I’ve committed many more sins than I can remember right now. We all have regrets. We all don’t have to fess up to them in a deposition.

Good luck with everything. You know how people are when they decide to make someone a scapegoat. If you need a personal pick-me-up, read a blog post by Michael Twitty, a fellow who addresses the real problem in an eloquent way.

It’s not all about you; it’s about pervasive, systemic racism. It’s about the real challenges people who are not white face. And white people don’t see and understand these challenges precisely because they are white. (Contrary to common conservative thought, we all can’t get where we want to go through hard work. We are not all born equal.)

We need to get to a point as a nation where difference doesn’t come with judgment. My kids see difference in skin color, but they don’t attach “good” or “bad” labels to that difference.

For example, Dominic noticed that one of his camp counselors, a black woman, was married to a white man. I said that I hoped that didn’t bother him because his daddy and I are an interracial couple too.

Gideon piped up and said, “Oh I know. You are really white and Daddy is brown.”

Dominic replied, “Daddy’s not brown. He’s tan.”

(Note that photo in No. 7 up there and decide for yourself.)

Difference is good.* Judgment is bad.

But I think you know that.

Yours in love of buttery goodness,
Beth

* How boring would it be if we were all the same?

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Field Day (i.e., A Date with Satan)

Posted in Random, tagged , , , , on May 31, 2013| Leave a Comment »

Dear Teachers:

I admire you and appreciate you every single day. It takes a certain day of the year, though, to really remind me that your selfless, barely-paid work keeps me and moms like me out of straightjackets.

That day is Field Day.*

As soon as I set up shop in the Sack Race/Tug of War tent, I remembered that I vowed last year that I would never volunteer again.

Field Day must be like childbirth where you forget the pain and screaming until you are back at it. That’s the only excuse I have for volunteering again. I just forgot that it was akin to Lower Hell, otherwise known as the City of Dis, where active sins are punished.

Field Day at my children's school

Field Day at my children’s school

I took the morning off from work, thinking, “How bad could it be?”

It was bad.

So bad.

I’m not sure when I lost my will to live. It could have been after I told Ashton No. 14 to stop picking his nose (or that might have been Connor No. 12 or Jaden No. 9).

It could have been after I plucked fragments of the Tug of War rope out of my bloodied hands after telling the sixth group of jackals children to “Stop pulling! This side has already won!”

It could have been after my youngest child earned the Academy Award for Best Actor in a Leading Role for his performance as Tug of War Pileup Casualty.

I know this for sure: As my undercarriage area started steaming, I thought, “Never again.”

My husband made the mistake of calling me in the middle of this. I verbally assaulted him. He may have already consulted an attorney.

The outer ring of the seventh circle of Hell (ie. violence against people and property) nearly welcomed me when I took a break to go inside to get water. A number of women were sitting in chairs in the air-conditioned snack room — their assigned volunteer spots — chatting about shopping. Their hair was still styled, clothes clean and dry, foreheads unsheened. I regarded them through rage-clouded eyes and restrained my fists of fury.

Back outside with a warm, begrudgingly offered bottle of water, I slogged through what seemed like 4,000 more sack races and rope battles. Time stood still.

Sack Race No. 2,147

Sack Race No. 2,147

After the last group of the morning had shoved and cried their way through the two “games,” it was time for lunch. My oldest child, who suddenly looked so much taller than he had that morning, asked me if I would eat lunch with him in his classroom. He took me by the hand and said, “I love you, Mama.”

And I remembered why I volunteered.

See you next year!
Beth

* A day that consists of trying to corral children into teams to compete in games that are supposed to be fun. These games devolve into pushing matches, crying jags, and squeals of “he’s cheating!” And that’s just the parents. (I’m kidding. It was just me.)

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This Easter morning blows

Posted in Random, Religion (or lack thereof), tagged , , , on March 31, 2013| Leave a Comment »

Leaf blower jerk

Dear Jackass with a Leaf Blower:

I’m sure you thought you were being efficient by clearing the way for Easter sunrise service attendees.

Sunrise means dawn, though. And the beach is a popular vacation spot. People on vacation like to sleep. Often, they choose the beach so that they can be lulled by the gentle sound of the ocean.
Leaf blowers are not a gentle sound. At 5:19 a.m., they are not a welcome addition to a beach vacation.

What were you blowing, anyway? Tybee isn’t exactly New England in the fall, sporting a lush carpet of leaves.

Were you blowing sand? Why? People coming to a sunrise service at the pier have to accept a little sand. It is the beach, for crying out loud.

If I see you again, I’m going to use your leaf blower for another purpose. (Let me give you a hint: Your next colonoscopy will be easy breezy.)

I want you and your obnoxious friends — you know, the car alarm, barking dog and loud, drunk girl — to get off the island.

Thank you.

Sincerely,
Beth
Tybee

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Panic on the 10th floor

Posted in Random, tagged , , , on March 23, 2013| 3 Comments »

image

Dear WebMD:

Thank you for making me feel better last night — eventually. First you scared the crap out of me.

Some background: On the plane ride to New York, I had read an article about a woman with ALS who is working through her bucket list as she prepares for the eventuality of the disease. The article described the symptoms, of course.

Fast forward to last night. Suddenly my left arm started to hurt. And then I felt numbness and tingling in my fingers. Thinking about the article, I started to panic.

Note: My husband sometimes paints me as a hypochondriac. I’m not. I don’t always think there is something wrong with me. On the rare occasions when there IS something wrong with me, I just assume the worst (i.e., a headache is an aneurysm). Anything but that is better, right? So I’m always relieved.

You helped me check out my symptoms. As it turns out, my symptoms fit the ones for a heart attack also. Insert panic.

Am I having a heart attack in this hotel room? Will I die and be found tomorrow by Verna, the housekeeper assigned to my room? Should I call Eddie?

The answer to that last question is always “no.” I did that to him once when I was in France. I had a severe headache (the worst of my life), so of course I assumed I had viral meningitis. I told him that via text and promptly went to sleep. I woke up much later and felt GREAT! He was feeling not-so-great, if the 22 worried text messages, missed calls and emails were any indication.

Back to Panic Central. I did not have shortness of breath or a tightness in my chest, so I kept searching. Another entry noted that joint pain can result from a fall when the person has tried to brace herself.

Oh. Riiiiight. That.

The day before, I fell rather spectacularly on 47th Street. I broke my fall with my hands. Aha.

Satisfied that my arm pain was innocuous, I went to sleep. My arm feels fine today.

So thank you, WebMD. You’re still one of my best friends.

See you soon, I’m sure!
Beth

P.S. Here’s a funny video imagining social media sites as people at a party. You are my favorite.

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Young grasshoppers seek master*

Posted in Random, tagged , , , , on February 4, 2013| 2 Comments »

585px-Ninja-kanji.svg

Dear Jinichi Kawakami,

I’m writing you on behalf of my son Dominic and his friend Christian. They plan to be ninjas when they grow up, and would like to start training. As you are the 21st head of the Ban family, one of the 53 families that formed the renowned Koga Clan of ninja, you are in a position to help them realize their dreams.

Despite the fact that you told American Public Media Marketplace, “You cannot make a living being a ninja!,” the boys would like to try. Their plans originally included buying a blimp and flying over Switzerland to look for any suspicious activity. They abandoned the idea when I mentioned the following:

  1. Blimps are hard to come by. It’s not like they could go to O.C. Welch’s Used Blimp Lot and pick one up.
  2. If Christian and Dominic and their friends are off ninja-ing, there is no one to fly the blimp, or park it, so to speak, in the airspace over the area that needs ninjas.
  3. Though there likely is suspicious activity in Switzerland, there are other areas that need greater scrutiny. Washington, D.C., might be a good place to start.

The new plan is to purchase an RV to serve as home base for their clan of ninja. It offers easy access for potty breaks while they are getting in a full day of surveillance. The boys plan to serve as vigilantes: rescuing the helpless, punishing evil-doers, and generally righting society’s wrongs. Like any good shinobi, they plan to do this through espionage, infiltration and even open combat, if necessary, all while dressed in the finest of ninja outfits. (Dominic’s will be green, he says, to better blend into the natural environment.)

You and I can both agree that there is still a need for ninjas today, even though I have mentioned to them your assertion that they will need day jobs. Rest assured they are taking this to heart. Christian plans to be a lawyer and Dominic intends to be a park ranger or artist.

I urge you to rethink your refusal to take on a protégé for the deadly art of ninjitsu. I can recommend two aspiring ninjas who would thrive under your tutelage, and could carry on the tradition in an appropriate and respectful yet modern way. Please let me know if I can provide more information regarding their ninja candidacy.

Thank you for your consideration.

Sincerely,
Beth

n2

*Yes, I know that is a “Kung Fu” reference and has nothing to do with Japan and ninjas.

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Back on the electronic leash

Posted in Technology, tagged , , on January 17, 2013| Leave a Comment »

Dear Technology:

I’m glad we’re back together after a short, holiday-induced break. It’s good we didn’t have to buy Christmas gifts for each other. What would I get the entity that has everything? (Teleportation capabilities for the user, perhaps.)

I want you to know that I cheated on you with paper. I read magazines by turning real pages. I carried books around in my bag, and did not worry about also carrying a charger and trying to find an outlet. I had face-to-face conversations with actual humans.

I know we never said we’d be exclusive, but I still felt guilty every time I had a tangible experience.

“We were on a break!”

Anyway, now that we are back together, I’ve been thinking about how much I depend on you in general. I can’t really get you out of my life. I’m not the only one. It’s kind of frightening. Allow me to elucidate:

A very good friend emailed me to ask me what her husband’s cell phone number was because she had left her cell phone at home and couldn’t remember his number. I relied on you (in the form of iCloud) but you failed me and managed to lose half the numbers in my address book. His was one of them. I had to call Eddie to get the husband’s number, which Eddie texted to me. And then I emailed it to my friend.

Sheesh.

Remember the days when we didn’t need you to remember numbers? I bet you are feeling really proud of yourself right about now.

Anyway, even though we are back together, I want you to know that I still value my independence. I can’t have you all over me all the time. It’s not you, it’s me. Sometimes I need a little time to myself, time without you. I hope you understand.

See you in a few minutes!
Beth

Digital communication

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