Monday, November 21, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Tuesday is a nondescript day. It’s not dreaded Monday, the very beginning of the work week. It doesn’t have a name like “hump” day, and it doesn’t have the distinction of having happy hour associated with it. Maybe that’s why retail stores have sales on Tuesday to bring in customers.
I made a great discovery a few weeks ago. This small lake town has public transportation in the form of vans that come directly to your door to pick you up and take you wherever you want to go; then deliver you back to your doorstep when you are ready to go home. All this for a mere $1.50 each time you step on the van. This particular Tuesday I made a nail appointment and hair appointment at the town mall – which is a group of stores on Main Street that are enclosed for a block. The van picked me up right on time and since I was the only one in the van I had a lovely conversation with the driver: “How many vans do you have?” “Do you run in the winter?” “Are you handicapped accessible?” What I failed to ask were the hours of operation.
The day at “the mall” was delightful because I pampered myself with a manicure, a new hairdo, and shopping. “Downtown” was even having its “Crazy Days” sales where Main Street was blocked off so the merchants could have a gigantic street sale. I tried on clothes, had a nice conversation with the florist, and even treated myself to a latte. After all, I didn’t have to hurry home to cook dinner for the hubby.
I thought of my options. Walk home – 6 miles around the lake in flip flops. Hitchhike. Call a neighbor – however, I didn’t have any of their numbers in my phone. So I went back to the florist to see when she was closing for the day – maybe she wouldn’t mind running me home – after all, we sort of bonded talking about greenery and bird cages. She was staying open for another hour or so.
Then I noticed a dock with boats and pontoons for rent. Aha, it’s worth a try. I went into the little building and explained the pickle I had gotten myself into and wondered if they ever took people across the lake to the other side in a boat. I pointed out on a map where I lived and where they could drop me off – the Public Access dock - which is only about a half-mile from my house. The nice young man was a little hesitant, but it was a slow day so he called another young man in and asked him to motor me across. As I walked out the door, the young man said, “Let’s not mention this to anyone, ok?” Thumbs up. “Gotcha!” Thumbs up.
So this teenager complete with a nose ring and unusual-looking hair boarded me on a pontoon, and we headed for the south shore of the lake. I felt like Kate Winslet and a blue-haired Leonardo DiCaprio on the bow of the Titanic speeding across the waves, wind blowing through our hair. Twenty minutes later I jumped off the pontoon and tipped junior 20 bucks for the journey.
Tuesdays aren’t so boring anymore. All I have to do is plan an excursion to town.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
1. When you leave the garage door open it means...
a. Small Town...the neighbors come over and visit; you have a beer and catch up on all the neighborhood gossip.
b. Big City...the golf clubs, broken stereo, discarded satellite receiver, and car all disappear.
2. When you make an appointment at the eye doctor, the receptionist says...
a. Small Town..."What time today would you like to come in? 11:00 or 11:30? OK, I'll put you down for 11-ish."
b. Big City..."We don't have an opening until October 27, 2012 at 7:30 am. Be sure to come in 45 minutes before your scheduled time to fill out the paperwork."
3. When postage is due on mail...
a. Small Town...they leave a little envelope in your mailbox for the 15 cents.
b. Big City...they leave a large yellow bill stating they are holding your mail hostage until you drive 8 miles to the nearest post office between the hours of 9:00 am and 4:00 pm to give them the 15 cents.
4. When you ask for directions, you get something like this...
a. Small Town..."It's just down the hill across from the fire station."
b. Big City..."Go east on the 101 for 10 miles, it will turn into the Pima Freeway; drive another 15 miles, and take the 202 to Exit 568 to Rural Road, which is Scottsdale Road going north; turn left on Rio Salado, go to the second light, turn right..."
5. When buying bottled beverages...
a. Small Town...you can only buy liquor at the one state-run store in town, and it is closed on Sundays.
b. Big City...there are drive-through liquor stores open 24/7.
a. Small Town...ducks and chickens are sold in the general store and there are only 2 stores where you can buy groceries, Wal Mart and the local grocer. A gallon of milk costs $4.50.
b. Big City...you have to drive 45 miles before you even see a duck or chicken. There is a grocery store on every corner, a Wal Mart every 5 miles, and a gallon of milk costs $1.50.
7. Traffic Lights...
a. Small Town...there are one, maybe two, traffic lights in the entire town.
b. Big City...there are hundreds of traffic lights, all set differently, complete with radar, cameras, left-turn arrows, right-turn arrows, and chirping sounds for the visually impaired.
a. Small Town...NONE
b. Big City...drive-throughs on every corner, in Target, in grocery stores, and shopping malls.
Monday, July 11, 2011
TOP TEN REASONS WHY I WANT TO COME BACK AS A DUCK
10. I can float all day on the lake and not get sunburned
9. I don’t have to worry about my hair in the rain
8. I don’t need to buy a fishing license
7. I can avoid going through security when I fly south for the winter
6. I can visit New York, North Carolina, and Georgia on my way to Florida
5. It doesn’t take 9 months to pop out an egg
4. My children follow me wherever I go – and they like me
3. Daddy duck doesn’t tell me how to raise the kids
2. The children can find their own apartment when they are 6 months old
And the number 1 reason I want to come back as a duck – I don’t have to find a toilet to take a dump
Monday, June 27, 2011
What is it about a man that makes him so contrary? Men and women are like the Ying and Yang – yup and nope – single-celled organism and multi cellular organism – toilet seat up and toilet seat down in life. It’s a miracle a man and woman are even able to coexist under the same roof.
The woman is the decorator – the nest builder. She wants the abode to be a queen’s castle – the envy of Better Homes and Gardens – a stage for Martha Stewart. All the man wants is a place to sit his butt down, and a shelf for his 659 caps.
Our new bathroom is color coordinated with chocolate brown and mocha with a hint of gold. The wastebasket, lotion pump, and tissue holder all match the shower curtain. The soft rug is placed where one steps after enjoying a nice hot shower. The oversized brown towels are soft and fluffy, eager to engulf one in luxury.
The husband has destroyed all this beauty. He has replaced his luxurious brown towels with thread-bare green ones that are 25 years old and have been in the travel trailer for the last 8. “Don’t you like the new brown towels?” “No, they’re too soft.” Say…wha..? Too soft? This makes no sense. And the soft toe-tingling rug has been replaced with a blue scratchy towel circa 1993. Martha has just called for reinforcements.
Husband had to buy a new medicine cabinet – “Need more storage room.” He spent the better part of the afternoon measuring, tapping, drilling, leveling, and securing this HUMONGOUS gun-medal grey box in our new bathroom.The pictures tell the story better than I.
Man’s Side of the Sink Medicine Cabinet Woman’s Side of the Sink
There are two solutions to this dilemma. Designate one bathroom as a “his” bathroom – preferably in the basement where the Better Homes and Gardens’ camera crew have no chance of finding - or just throw the damn green and blue towels away.
Monday, June 20, 2011
The principal doesn’t know your room number…or your phone number.
You haven’t been evaluated for 2 years.
You haven’t gotten a pay increase in 3 years.
They paint your room mustard yellow.
The average classroom temperature is either 84 or 67 degrees.
The air conditioner stops running…in August…in Phoenix.
The students chase the cockroaches around the room…or is it the cockroaches chase the students around the room.
The cockroach takes up permenant residence in the teachers’ bathroom.
They lock the closest bathroom because of the water main leak on the street.
The sidewalk from your building to the cafeteria is gone and you have to walk across a plank.
Your class discussion is interrupted because of the car crashes at the intersection outside your room.
There are more mothers in your classroom than at the maternity ward.
A student’s mom has placed a restraining order on another student, so they can’t be in the classroom at the same time.
At my age, I could be my students’ great-great-grandmother.
Your students have nicer cell phones than you do.
UPS delivers a ticking box to the front office and the entire school is evacuated.
Administration wants all the teachers to park in the same parking lot instead of the lot that is closest to my room. This is a half-mile walk.
The gates are locked during a fire drill.
Our new schedule gives the CTE teachers less time in the classroom and more time to sub in other teachers’ classrooms.
The dean of students is booked for financial exploitation of her elderly neighbor.
An English teacher goes on “administrative leave” for drawing penises on the board.
And the number 1 reason you know it’s time to retire is when…
Your colleagues in your department have had
A neurological disorder