Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Neither AT nor ON the Pole

To say that my life has become "busy" is a bit of an understatement.  Unless "busy" for you is finding that you need to be at least three places at the same time on a daily basis.  Which is where I am finding myself right now.  I have actually had to hire someone to do part of the pick up of my children for me. 

Life is a little (read A LOT) INSANE at the moment. 

And it is getting me down.

For those of you who know me well, you know this is not how I like to live me life.  Busyness is overrated and will definitely kill youI mean as in lying face down in a gutter kill you.  I have no choice in this busyness right now though, so I'm going to do my best to gut it out until the end of the fall baseball season and the end of marching band season.  Then, I am calling a moratorium on busyness for a few months. 

For this moment though, something's gotta give.  Someone is going to be disappointed about it.  This time I'm afraid it's going to be me.  And roller derby.  Sigh. 

When insanity is the ruling dictator in your life and you are juggling all these times and dates in your head (and I can't juggle with more than one ball--oh yeah, that's called "catch"), BAD (and yet hilarious) things happen. 

Just hang on a minute while we wade through an another tedious explanation that you need to get the most of this experience I had.

This brings me to "See You at the Pole." For those of you who are unfamiliar with "See You at the Pole," it is a tradition where Christian students, parents, and educators meet at the flagpole before school on a designated day in Spetember to pray together and identify to each other and the community that they are Christians.

I haven't ever been to the pole, but I have offered the option to my children when I knew it was coming up.  It's not that I am against the event, it's that it would mean that I would actually have to put on real clothes and brush my teeth beforehand because I would be in the company of people.  And that, people, is just a little too unrealistic. I absolutely drive my children to school in my pjs and pray that there is no reason for me to have to get out of the car.  Or be pulled over (which *may* have happened once when I was pregnant with Bonus). 

I'm overtaxed.  And exhausted.  And clearly not in my right mind.  So, it is no surprise that when my friend sent me a text last night asking if I would be meeting her and others at the pole today, that I quickly thought, "Tomorrow is See You at the Pole." and then said to my kids, "Hey.  Tomorrow is See You at the Pole if you want to go." 

I wondered why my friend thought I would meet her at the pole because she works at the enemy high school, and there is NO way I would meet her at their flagpole. I also wouldn't go to Miss Noteworthy's flag pole either because she would surely die a thousand deaths if I did.  If I were going to go to any flag pole it would be the one at RNR and Bonus' school.  If it is a good day they are still not too embarrassed by the woman who gave birth to them.

This little text exchange followed....


In case you can't read where I scratched out my friend's name, it says Hot Derby Mama. 
I know, I am soooo proud of my awesome graphics.


This one says Pole Princess. 
Which she is. 
Totally.
Fish shoes and all. 


In derbyville, our league had been invited by a local company to do either a derby yoga class and/or a pole exercizing class.  But, clearly, I had forgotten all about that invitation, and my derby friends had not and wanted me to join them.  Which would have been fun if I had not had to be three places--oh make that four if you include the pole--at the same time.


So, I need to work on the calendar to make sure I don't get my poles crossed.  It could result in lots of awkward if I can't get my dates straight.  This current insanity might just find me ghetto blaster on shoulder swinging on the pole in these shoes on 9/26 (which I just found out is actually September 25 thanks to a facebook comment on this post.  Sigh. Thanks, Tina, for saving my children from looking extra strange on September 26th). 


Look at these babies!  See You at Which Pole for What?  Ooops! 

Do you think the elementary school students would buy that I bring my pets with me so I remember to feed them?  Yeah, the principal is SOOOO running another background check on me right now....

Here's to life settling down to a dull roar.

Questions... (I have lots)
Anyone else have an embarrassing encounter because of their crazy calendar?
Does the start of school always throw you for the first few weeks?
Other than a calendar, what helps you keep it all straight?
If I bought those shoes would you still be my friend?  Because I want those shoes to add to my hooker collection.

Happy Monday Tuesday ah crap, Happy Day!

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

iPhone Adjustments

About a month ago, I became a minion, joined the evil empire, and got an iPhone.  Almost entirely out of pure desperation.

My friends had long scoffed at me for not being an Apple-ette.  They chided me when I said I couldn't see the emoji they sent me or the photos they attached.  I was left out of the group texting. 

Our platforms were simply not compatible, and I was the one who was expected to change. 

Fast forward...  the weekend before RollerCon 2013, my Android started doing some strange things.  Locking up, not holding a charge, and such.  Mr. Incredible thought I might need a new battery, so we located one and replaced my battery.  If it could only have been as easy as a $40.00 fix, but, alas, it still wouldn't hold a charge.  The day before I was to leave for Vegas, my phone would barely stay on.  Something had to be done because only a crazy person would go to Vegas to stay ALONE in a hotel room with no means of communication.  Oh, right, I am a little crazy, but I am not that crazy!  Even most of the tunnel people have operable cell phones.  Not that I would know from first hand experience....

I headed down to my carrier's store and listened to all the options available to me.  The main issue was that I am still under contract until Miss Noteworthy's birthday because I added her to my plan.  I decided that breaking my contract and switching to Mr. Incredible's carrier was not in the best interest of my pocketbook.  I looked at the latest, giant Galaxy and tried to put it in my back pocket.

Ummm, no. 

It didn't fit in my back pocket and even if it had, it would have made my butt look ridiculous (my butt doesn't need that kind of attention, ya know?).  And if it didn't fit in the back pocket, it was really going to have problems fitting my bra purse.  Because sometimes I don't have a back pocket or a front pocket or an actual purse.

I looked at some other brands and found the same problem.

I consulted with Mr. Incredible who is a recent, reluctant Apple convert himself.  He said I needed to go with the iPhone because it didn't seem to have the 2-year-built-in-obsolescence that all the Android phones we have purchased have had.  I got a white one.  I wish it came in green like the iPod Touch, but it doesn't.

And so, I flew off to the land of casinos armed with a phone that fully functioned.  Yet, I didn't know how to use it.  You see, I had barely even touched an iPhone until I got my own.

I know you are wondering what rock I live under.  It's a big one with lots of lovely green moss in a field where fairies frolic freely.

Seriously.  I didn't even know how to answer a call on an iPhone before I got my own (and asked the guy at the cell phone store to show me...).  Mr. Incredible keeps telling me that it is intuitive.  Apparently, I don't do intuitive.  Or at least Apple's version of intuitive.

I am struggling with my iPhone. 

Trying to adjust to this new platform has not been easy.  I am unable to find a ringtone that I respond to and am still unsure which sound is a text, email, or phone call.  I have been butt dialing, taking unintentional screen captures, erasing my entire calendar, and sending texts to the wrong people (awkward!). 

Why this capture?  I have no freakin' idea.  It just appeared in my gallery out of nowhere.

Taking really nice pictures of my fingers, too. 



Don't ask me yet if I love my iPhone.  I need more time to know.  It has it good points (easy access to my iTunes, faster connection to the web, wide selection of apps), but after a lifetime of PC and Droid usage, I do not yet speak the Apple language.  I am a stranger in a strange land.  You can call me Gershom if you like. 

Monday, September 9, 2013

Because You Loved It the First Time...

I Don't Like Mondays Blog Hop

Hopping on at the linky party over at at elleroywashere.com.  Which is something I have never done before. And because she did not require the post to be brand spankin' new, I bring you a little blast from the past that many of you have previously enjoyed.... 

Laser Hair Removal: The Musical


I told you back at my birthday that I had purchased six sessions of laser hair removal as one of my gifts, and I promised you I would let you know about the experience.

So, I am keeping my word and giving you the downlow on the whole thing. And when I say "DL", I mean "DL" because it was bikini line hair removal.

Don't worry. There are no pictures. I wouldn't want you to have to gouge your eyes out or anything.

I have to tell you I was nervous about this. First off, I don't like being NAKED in front of complete strangers. Second, "people" told me that it is painful. And third, NAKED, NAKED, NAKED.

Sometimes I think I should be over the naked thing because of all the people who saw me birth children, but I am not. You will not see me running around naked at the spa. Ever. It's just not necessary. By all means, if you like it, go for it. For me, a bikini is naked enough.

At any rate, I found the joint and went inside not entirely sure what to expect.


And I was greeted by a man.

Crap. This was going downhill quickly.

He asked me to have a seat in the waiting area out front. And momentarily, he escorted me to another room with chairs and a computer. He asked me to sit down again and handed me some paperwork to fill out.

And then a beautiful woman came in and started talking to me about the procedure.

Phew!

Crisis averted. And now I didn't have to worry about how I was going to get my money back because I was not taking my pants off for a man that did not have M.D. behind his name.

I was taken to a small procedure room where I was handed a small square plastic package and some baby wipes.

I puzzled at the little square, and the beautiful woman must have read my face. She told me I was going to need to take my panties off and put those panties on. The baby wipes were for wiping the areas that would be lasered in case I had applied any medication or lotion.

After she exited, I opened up the package, changed into its contents, and climbed onto the table. And felt the breeze. Which was chilly.

Lying on an examination table sans pants waiting for the beautiful woman to enter, the thought that enters my mind is how exactly do I get comfortable lying here in paper panties.

I feel stiff and awkward lying there with my hands by my side. But it seems TOO comfortable to reach back and put my hands behind my head. Like, "Hi! I'm just chillin' in my new panties. You wanna hang for awhile."

Yeah, weird awkward turtle-type stuff like that goes through my head all the time. It's a problem.

So, I settle on folding my hands over my stomach and focus on trying to relax my shoulders. They are always so tense lately. I probably need to go see my friend Fluffy for a massage, but I have massage neurosis as well. Someday...

I'm lying there as comfortable as I am going to get without pants, and then, I stupidly decided to turn my head and look toward the window.

Big mistake. HUGE mistake.

The blinds are turned so that one standing on the street could look up and into the room. And I'm lying on a table that is higher than the bottom of the window.

Oh. My. Quad. (translation for non roller derby types: Oh my super cool, non-inline, four-wheeled skate!)

So, of course, I'm instantly uncomfortable again. I wonder how to proceed. It's been a few minutes since the beautiful lady left the room. If I jump up and run across the room to turn the blinds, will I be standing there by the window with my paper-covered backside at full exposure when she enters the room OR will I be attempting to scramble back onto the table with one leg up as she returns OR do I have enough time to complete the task, return to the table, and look like I never got up?

It takes me about .0001 seconds to decide that the risk of having a complete stranger on the ground floor peer up and into the room while I am lying there in disposable undergarments is far less humiliating than the risk of having the beautiful woman return just as I am hiking my paper-clad bottom back onto the table.

So, I lie there in all my glory until she returns SECONDS later. I had made a VERY good call.

She briefly explains the basics of what she is about to do and turns some dials. I'm handed some doltish looking goggles to complete my supermodel look and protect my eyes from being blinded for life. Then, she begins.

Zap, zap, zap. Pause. Wipe. Zap, zap, zap. Pause. Wipe.

And so it goes for the next few minutes.

As she finishes, I tell her how relieved I am that there was no pain. Much less pain than waxing. I hand her the rockstar goggles, and she tells me that she is glad that I am able to tolerate the laser so well. We smile. It's all quite touching.

Then, she hands me a tube of Desitin and tells me to apply it to the areas that have just received treatment. I take the tube from her hand, squeeze a dab into my hand, and look at her. She tells me to just daub it on. She stands there.

I realize that she is not going to leave the room. More awkwardness. I begin to dot the Desitin on myself and she praises me like a puppy. "That's right! All over!"

She tells me to get dressed and come out of the room when I am ready.

I immediately toss those disposable unmentionables into the trash can and gratefully pull on my jeans.

I schedule my second appointment, leave, and head over to the mall. After that much stress, a girl can stand to unwind by checking out the latest spring fashions at Nordstrom.

Results? For me, the pain at the first appointment was negligible. I won't see actual results for around three weeks. The laser strength will be increased at the next appointment. We'll see. 



 



Thursday, September 5, 2013

RNR Explains It All

During a recent car ride....

RNR:  Sometimes when I am in church, I look at the heads of old people, and I want to go up and touch their fluffy, white hair.  It looks like it is so soft and fluffy, ya know?  [Pause.] But then, I think they would think I'm an idiot.

Me:  I don't think they would think you are an idiot, but I do think they would wonder why you are running your hands through their hair.

RNR:  Yeah. [Sigh.] I still want to try it though.

We are pretty sure she is gonna give us some real trouble in a couple of years.  But isn't she so cute?  Sometimes when I am in church,  I want to touch her silky, blond hair.  I usually do it.


 


And later the same day...

RNR:   That candy looks pretty, but it tastes like rainbows.

Me:  I would think rainbows would taste good.

RNR:  Are you crazy?  All those colors mixed together are BLECH.  You would not like the taste of rainbows.