I hate smokers.
Okay. I should correct that. I hate rude smokers. You know, the ones who think that they have the right to MAKE me inhale the poison they CHOOSE to inhale. I would rather not have lung cancer, thank you. Plus, I have mild asthma, and smoke of any kind will bring on an attack or worsen my ability to breathe. Once I got older and grew a partial spine, I have coughed with much emotion, held my breath in an obvious manner, and occasionally said something loudly to whomever I am with, so that the offender would notice that I didn't approve of his/her puffing around me.
Now I have a child. Gloves off. Spine complete.
I have the Arizona anti-smoking reporting line programmed into my cell phone, and I am not afraid to use it. It is listed under NO SMOKING!. I laugh every time I scroll down and see it. I have already gone into two businesses and informed them that there were smokers outside their stores breaking the law. Businesses are required to take care of it, or they may be reported and eventually fined. Both times, the employees were clueless. I didn't care. I proceeded to tell them the laws of which they were ignorant. They looked at me like I am a crazy woman. Better crazy than chemo, I say. Better crazy than my sweet baby having to walk through a cloud of tobacco dust.
My latest experience with rudeness took place this past Saturday night. I was with my husband at a hotel in Phoenix, where we were celebrating his birthday with a weekend getaway (fun times!). We had a little pool all to ourselves for awhile, which gave me time to practice the only skill, the clam shell, I remember from my synchronized swimming lessons one summer in high school. I would do the clam shell, and he would give me a score from one to ten, like in gymnastics. My highest was a 9, my lowest a 2. Oh yes. Do we ever really grow up? I can't wait to earn a ten!Come to think of it, I only took ballet for one year, as well. I didn't really want to stick with these things, I guess. They taught me some great skills for entertaining, though, I tell you.
Back on track ... a woman and her two cute little boys joined us in the pool. We were all swimming, swimming, having a nice time. I smelled smoke, so I asked my eternal companion if he did. I didn't have my contacts in, so I had no idea from where it came. I asked loudly, by the way. He said, much more quietly, that he saw it. Once I knew it was the mom of the boys, who had exited the pool, we decided to adjourn to our room. As we walked out of the area, past the cancer-spreader, I plugged my nose and coughed. Only part of my backbone was working then, I suppose. Why didn't I say something? I kick myself.
I don't know the law for smoking at pools, so I didn't really have any firm ground on which to stand. I will learn it, however, mark my words, and next time, watch out!
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Baby Steps
My son took his first steps tonight (sniffle, smile, sniffle, smile), which put me in a contemplative mood.
He stumbled, leaned too far forward to keep his balance, tried to go too fast, and needed his dad and me to be there to catch him. He went back and forth, back and forth, his face a smile, our excitement contagious. We all clapped, we all laughed, we all cheered. I wish I could bottle those five minutes and drink it up every day.
Isn't this how we all are throughout life?
We try something new, a career, marriage, a baby!, a friendship, opening our hearts, forgiving someone, embracing who we are.
It is hard. We stumble, we try too hard, we go too fast, but we keep trying. If we don't, we never learn to walk on our own, with our own confidence, our own faith, our own destiny.
We need others to catch us and stand us back up. Without our cheering sections, our successes are mere footnotes rather than headlines.
May we all take the steps that allow us to grow, but more importantly, may we applaud each other's efforts, even calling for an encore.
He stumbled, leaned too far forward to keep his balance, tried to go too fast, and needed his dad and me to be there to catch him. He went back and forth, back and forth, his face a smile, our excitement contagious. We all clapped, we all laughed, we all cheered. I wish I could bottle those five minutes and drink it up every day.
Isn't this how we all are throughout life?
We try something new, a career, marriage, a baby!, a friendship, opening our hearts, forgiving someone, embracing who we are.
It is hard. We stumble, we try too hard, we go too fast, but we keep trying. If we don't, we never learn to walk on our own, with our own confidence, our own faith, our own destiny.
We need others to catch us and stand us back up. Without our cheering sections, our successes are mere footnotes rather than headlines.
May we all take the steps that allow us to grow, but more importantly, may we applaud each other's efforts, even calling for an encore.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Small Acts of Kindness
You know those times when you just need to hear something nice about yourself or have something good happen? It is amazing to me that when that pick-me-up is just what the doctor ordered,
my mom emails me,
my friend sends a text,
a ward member gives me a hug,
my husband says I love you,
a friend blogs something nice,
or my Heavenly Father sends a beautiful evening to sit on the porch swing with my family.
my mom emails me,
my friend sends a text,
a ward member gives me a hug,
my husband says I love you,
a friend blogs something nice,
or my Heavenly Father sends a beautiful evening to sit on the porch swing with my family.
What ever happened to customer service?
Whatever happened to the customer is always right? You would think that in this economy, businesses would be busting their butts to try to get people to spend their money at their place of commerce.
How may I help you? Thank you. I apologize for the inconvenience. I will be glad to do that. All phrases that have gone by the wayside.
What is the deal? I am irritated. If you choose to go into the business of customer service, you need to do your best to SERVE the CUSTOMER.
I was never a waitress because I wear my feelings on my face too well. If I don't like you, I can't pretend. It wouldn't make for good tips.
I have had several experiences in the past few months that lead me to this rant. Yes, I admit that this is a rant. Dish Network telling me I need a Smart Card to update my receiver, yet neglecting to get it sent for four months, while all the while messages annoyingly flashed on my screen telling me to insert the card. Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am; it was sent from Phoenix a month ago. What? By pony? We live four hours away!
A waitress literally ignoring me and my dining companions, bringing our appetizer almost with our meal, if our meal weren't delayed while all the other diners around us finished eating. Really? And I am supposed to tip you 20%?
A toy company passing the buck to another business who actually makes the toys, when my son's star stopped playing the classical music three weeks after we got it. No, we didn't drop it in water. Yes, we changed the batteries several times. Still no music. Well, let me refer you to... Um. No. Let me refer you to basic cs101. You tell me you are sorry for the toy not working properly and let me know how it will be corrected.
Verizon not working to upgrade a phone for months, even though they work on commission. Each place I went, each time I called, I got a different answer. I was willing to spend the money, if you would work out something for me. Loyal customers meant nothing.
A hotel room's thermostat breaking in the summer heat at midnight. We got moved then to another, cooler room, but they refused to let us leave our luggage in the other room. They weren't full - it was summer in Phoenix for goodness' sake. We were leaving the next day and would get our luggage in the morning. It was midnight! Sorry, but I won't be returning there.
The good news:
1. I finally got a Smart Card; I still don't know why it is so smart, either. My television watching hasn't changed.
2. The restaurant sent me a gift certificate after I sent an email about our experience there.
3. My son got a new music-playing star, which he loves.
4. I got a new phone after a kiosk employee worked a deal. He graduated from cs101.
5. My friend took the hotel night manager, chewed him out, and ate him for a midnight snack. That was worth the inconvenience to hear her on the phone with him. Memories. . .
How may I help you? Thank you. I apologize for the inconvenience. I will be glad to do that. All phrases that have gone by the wayside.
What is the deal? I am irritated. If you choose to go into the business of customer service, you need to do your best to SERVE the CUSTOMER.
I was never a waitress because I wear my feelings on my face too well. If I don't like you, I can't pretend. It wouldn't make for good tips.
I have had several experiences in the past few months that lead me to this rant. Yes, I admit that this is a rant. Dish Network telling me I need a Smart Card to update my receiver, yet neglecting to get it sent for four months, while all the while messages annoyingly flashed on my screen telling me to insert the card. Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am; it was sent from Phoenix a month ago. What? By pony? We live four hours away!
A waitress literally ignoring me and my dining companions, bringing our appetizer almost with our meal, if our meal weren't delayed while all the other diners around us finished eating. Really? And I am supposed to tip you 20%?
A toy company passing the buck to another business who actually makes the toys, when my son's star stopped playing the classical music three weeks after we got it. No, we didn't drop it in water. Yes, we changed the batteries several times. Still no music. Well, let me refer you to... Um. No. Let me refer you to basic cs101. You tell me you are sorry for the toy not working properly and let me know how it will be corrected.
Verizon not working to upgrade a phone for months, even though they work on commission. Each place I went, each time I called, I got a different answer. I was willing to spend the money, if you would work out something for me. Loyal customers meant nothing.
A hotel room's thermostat breaking in the summer heat at midnight. We got moved then to another, cooler room, but they refused to let us leave our luggage in the other room. They weren't full - it was summer in Phoenix for goodness' sake. We were leaving the next day and would get our luggage in the morning. It was midnight! Sorry, but I won't be returning there.
The good news:
1. I finally got a Smart Card; I still don't know why it is so smart, either. My television watching hasn't changed.
2. The restaurant sent me a gift certificate after I sent an email about our experience there.
3. My son got a new music-playing star, which he loves.
4. I got a new phone after a kiosk employee worked a deal. He graduated from cs101.
5. My friend took the hotel night manager, chewed him out, and ate him for a midnight snack. That was worth the inconvenience to hear her on the phone with him. Memories. . .
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Calling All Contestants!
I was watching Miss USA a little on Sunday night. I enjoy viewing these pageants for a few reasons: 1) I like to make fun of the: too-much make-up faces, fake boobs, stupid answers, baton-twirling talent portion, etc., 2) I want to see if they mess up, and 3) I like to cheer for the brunettes and short-haired girls (sorry, blondes, if there are any real ones out there).
In light of the fact that I'll never win that crown, nor would I ever have had the chance, what with my freckles, 5'3" height, and never-braced teeth, I am proposing a real-women pageant.
Preliminary Competition: The contestants are chosen to represent their states via the following point system: five points for each stretch mark, ten points for each size worn above size zero, and twenty points for each original body part (i.e. chest, hair color, eye color, teeth). The more points, the better.
RWP (Real Woman Pageant) Round One: Swimsuit competition: Each contestant will be given ten swimsuits in her size. She will proceed to try them all on, in a dressing room sans camera but equipped with a hanging microphone, and choose the one that she feels accentuates her positives, such as making her eyes look greener in hopes that the thighs look smaller. Points will be awarded for the most entertaining commentary while putting on the swimsuits and for the cutest flip flops (no high heels here with our swimwear!).
RWP Round Two: After being narrowed down to the top ten contestants, the women will don their evening down wear, as opposed to their evening gown wear. Sweat suits and pajamas will be showcased as each woman makes her way to the freezer to choose a pint of ice cream. The five women who finish their pints first will advance to the final round.
RWP Round Three: The question and answer segment will be hosted by three to eighteen year olds, who will proceed to interrogate the contestants on such things as why various things occur, why the kids can't do something, and how the family pet disappeared. After the intense interrogation, the winner will be crowned based upon who kept her cool the best and did not strike one of the children.
The crown will be made of macaroni glued together with Elmer's and decorated with sprinkles.
Donald Trump? Want to sponsor this?
In light of the fact that I'll never win that crown, nor would I ever have had the chance, what with my freckles, 5'3" height, and never-braced teeth, I am proposing a real-women pageant.
Preliminary Competition: The contestants are chosen to represent their states via the following point system: five points for each stretch mark, ten points for each size worn above size zero, and twenty points for each original body part (i.e. chest, hair color, eye color, teeth). The more points, the better.
RWP (Real Woman Pageant) Round One: Swimsuit competition: Each contestant will be given ten swimsuits in her size. She will proceed to try them all on, in a dressing room sans camera but equipped with a hanging microphone, and choose the one that she feels accentuates her positives, such as making her eyes look greener in hopes that the thighs look smaller. Points will be awarded for the most entertaining commentary while putting on the swimsuits and for the cutest flip flops (no high heels here with our swimwear!).
RWP Round Two: After being narrowed down to the top ten contestants, the women will don their evening down wear, as opposed to their evening gown wear. Sweat suits and pajamas will be showcased as each woman makes her way to the freezer to choose a pint of ice cream. The five women who finish their pints first will advance to the final round.
RWP Round Three: The question and answer segment will be hosted by three to eighteen year olds, who will proceed to interrogate the contestants on such things as why various things occur, why the kids can't do something, and how the family pet disappeared. After the intense interrogation, the winner will be crowned based upon who kept her cool the best and did not strike one of the children.
The crown will be made of macaroni glued together with Elmer's and decorated with sprinkles.
Donald Trump? Want to sponsor this?
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
My dear friend's daughter turned 18 yesterday. Eighteen! Where has time gone? She is a beautiful girl in every way. I admire her and have learned much from her. I am blessed to know this amazing young lady. Yesterday was a day to celebrate her and her 18 years, but it also was a day to reflect on the passing of the days,
the months,
the years.
I am always aiming to improve myself, to become better and more knowledgeable, more kind and compassionate, less selfish and stubborn. Time is my friend in this, and it is my enemy. One day I will awake and be saddened by mistakes I have made, ones that may too late to correct. I will not, however, regret the time I am spending as a mom.
Thanks for the day to realize this, you sweet girl of 18, and your sweetest mother of not-much-older. :)
I am going to leave his hand-prints on the windows a little longer, and play peek-a-boo with him instead. Those messy marks of one who will be grown in a blink will remind me of what I am doing here.
the months,
the years.
I am always aiming to improve myself, to become better and more knowledgeable, more kind and compassionate, less selfish and stubborn. Time is my friend in this, and it is my enemy. One day I will awake and be saddened by mistakes I have made, ones that may too late to correct. I will not, however, regret the time I am spending as a mom.
Thanks for the day to realize this, you sweet girl of 18, and your sweetest mother of not-much-older. :)
I am going to leave his hand-prints on the windows a little longer, and play peek-a-boo with him instead. Those messy marks of one who will be grown in a blink will remind me of what I am doing here.
NerdFest
Every year, I volunteer my time to score essays at the state Academic Decathlon competition. Having participated on the team many moons ago, I enjoy spending a few hours helping, so that the students may compete. When we had an Acadec reunion a few years ago, my then-fiance husband remarked that I was going to the nerd fest. I rebuked him, then, and corrected him to the term geek, per the definitions of both labels. Although I pretended to be offended (how dare you!), I fondly declare myself both a geek and a nerd and am honored to be among these types.
Anyway, the geek/nerd thing was only reinforced when I showed up to score these essays. What are twenty-six adults doing on a Friday night reading the words of high school students? For free? Well, we did get "dinner," which was more of a boxed lunch. The chocolate chip cookie was perfect, soft and chewy, but the rest of the meal left much to be desired. I must say, we are not the coolest cats out there. I even travelled four hours, one way, to participate.
At my table, six of us sat. My good friend, who read forty essays that night, sat to my right. She won the contest. The very fact that we had a contest attests to our nerdiness. We also kept track of how many wrote on each of the three prompts and then figured out the percentages. We snickered at some students' witticisms and groaned at others' misspellings. We laughed aloud when one decathlete decided to use asides in his/her essay, shared the invented words of another, and we prayed that the essay in our hands would be one with subject matter from the less-chosen prompts. When it did happen, we rejoiced with each other, exclaiming, "I got a prompt two!" Wow. Geeks.
One man at our table had the answers for everything, from why a student scored the way he did to how the essays should be handled. He was the nerdiest of us all, I believe. A computer programmer and know-it-all, I did enjoy battling with him when I could, and when I had the energy.
The man in charge was a control freak, with three colored folders on each table to "help" us stay organized: purple for never-read, red for once-read, and green for finished. Thanks so much. It is so hard to figure out. The shades of organization truly made everything progress so much more smoothly. When "dinner" time arrived, Nazi essay guy shouted, "Stop right where you are! It is time to get your food." I abruptly sat upright, slammed my pencil down, and reverted back to my Scantron-testing days.
Wandering to find our nourishment, we encountered the younger nerds, looking dapper in their suits and dresses, competing on this night, what they have been preparing for all this year. They impress me every time, these scholars who study and learn and deliver an oft-practiced speech. They are the reason I continue to do this.
Well, that, and I am a nerd.
Anyway, the geek/nerd thing was only reinforced when I showed up to score these essays. What are twenty-six adults doing on a Friday night reading the words of high school students? For free? Well, we did get "dinner," which was more of a boxed lunch. The chocolate chip cookie was perfect, soft and chewy, but the rest of the meal left much to be desired. I must say, we are not the coolest cats out there. I even travelled four hours, one way, to participate.
At my table, six of us sat. My good friend, who read forty essays that night, sat to my right. She won the contest. The very fact that we had a contest attests to our nerdiness. We also kept track of how many wrote on each of the three prompts and then figured out the percentages. We snickered at some students' witticisms and groaned at others' misspellings. We laughed aloud when one decathlete decided to use asides in his/her essay, shared the invented words of another, and we prayed that the essay in our hands would be one with subject matter from the less-chosen prompts. When it did happen, we rejoiced with each other, exclaiming, "I got a prompt two!" Wow. Geeks.
One man at our table had the answers for everything, from why a student scored the way he did to how the essays should be handled. He was the nerdiest of us all, I believe. A computer programmer and know-it-all, I did enjoy battling with him when I could, and when I had the energy.
The man in charge was a control freak, with three colored folders on each table to "help" us stay organized: purple for never-read, red for once-read, and green for finished. Thanks so much. It is so hard to figure out. The shades of organization truly made everything progress so much more smoothly. When "dinner" time arrived, Nazi essay guy shouted, "Stop right where you are! It is time to get your food." I abruptly sat upright, slammed my pencil down, and reverted back to my Scantron-testing days.
Wandering to find our nourishment, we encountered the younger nerds, looking dapper in their suits and dresses, competing on this night, what they have been preparing for all this year. They impress me every time, these scholars who study and learn and deliver an oft-practiced speech. They are the reason I continue to do this.
Well, that, and I am a nerd.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
