Last night I wrote about the under use of 'Thank You'. Some words get used to much. When I was in high school, it was 'like' and 'ya know'.
"I, like ya know, called him and like, his mom answered and was like ya know he's not here right now."
I know my English teacher friends are grinding their teeth! I hate to admit, but I do use 'like' as a filler. Not as much as say, a Valley Girl, but I know I use it more frequently than I should. I also tend to use 'awesome' a lot. Sometimes I have found it is the best word to describe what I'm feeling, or the best response. I guess it's a generational thing.
Lately, I have noticed absolutely being used a lot. To the point of over use. I cringe every time I hear it. Sometimes it is when I call members or prospects at work. If the person I'm trying to reach isn't available, and I ask to leave a message, the secretary or assistant says 'Absolutely!'. It is always said with a lift at the end, as if the person speaking were jumping up in the air. (Remember the old Toyota commercials where people jumped up into the air? That's what I imagine these people doing.) Just once I'd like to hear someone say 'Not a chance in ****'. Ya know?
I noticed this word being used a lot on the news too. I come home for lunch, and I watch the noon news on the Cincinnati ABC affiliate. The noon news does not have as much 'hard' news as the 6:00pm news. It has more lifestyle type stories. It is actually two shows, the '9 News at Noon' and the '9 News at 12:30'. In the course of each half hour, the anchor may have 1 or 2 different people (or groups of people) in the studio that they are interviewing over a little table. "Tell me about your event, yada yada" , "How can we get tickets?" You get the idea. The person being interviewed will answer with "Absolutely...." Again, with the lifting of the last syllable. Maybe they sat on a tack? I wonder if some Producer is schooling them (Maybe my friend Mitzi, who is a TV Producer could weigh in). It's odd that everyone is using this word suddenly.
What happened to sure, of course, or even certainly? Why is everyone saying absolutely? It makes me want to scream, or to hand them a thesaurus. At the very least I would like to know I don't live in a world of mindless drones saying 'Absolutely' to every thing.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Thank You
People don't say "Thank you" enough any more. Some people don't say it at all. I really think that is a shame. I was raised to say "Thank you". Mom made us write thank you notes after our birthdays and Christmas. We also had to write them if someone had done something nice, or given us something, for no reason. We would sit at the table and write meaningful notes. You should mention the gift, and perhaps something about it. For example: "Thank you for the beautiful sweater. It is my favorite shade of blue." You do not have to ramble for several pages, but your note should be heartfelt. The receiver of the note (who is also the gift giver or thoughtful person) should be able to tell how much it meant to you.
To help us, Mom always bought stationery for us for Christmas. Sometimes it was note cards with our initial on it, maybe another time it was sheets of paper with our full name in a fancy script. As we got older, Mom would let us pick out our own stationery. I always enjoyed this part. The only time it was a bad idea is when I ordered monogrammed stationery. I had a new electronic typewriter, so I picked out stationery that could be used in the typewriter. I chose a pale blue, with a darker blue monogram at the top. Except I forgot that when you do a monogram, the last initial goes in the middle. I had 200 sheets of paper that said APE at the top!
Anyway, Mom encouraged us to write thank you notes. She told us even if you didn't really like the gift, you should say something nice. You wouldn't write 'Thank you for the hideous skirt'. It wasn't just about the notes. When we went to a friend's house, we thanked her parents for having us over. If you are invited to someone's for dinner, you thank them. If you go out to dinner with someone, you thank them. Mom and Dad made sure we had good manners.
I still write thank you notes. I try to thank the people in my life. I thank my coworkers when they help with a project, I thank my stylist and massage therapist for their services. I thank my parents for all they do for me. I try to thank my friends when they have been there. I even thank men when they hold a door open for me. I know there are probably times I forget, but I do try to let everyone know how much I appreciate them.
Yet in today's world, people don't show appreciation. They just expect you to do things for them. They don't care how much it cost, or how much time you put into it, or what you gave up to do it. They don't say "Thank you". I am sure most people's parents taught them manners, but they've stopped using them. We're so wrapped up in our own lives, or so busy, that we just don't bother. That really makes me sad. I think the world could be a little better if we said 'Thank you' and remembered the manners we were taught as young children. Or the manners we are teaching our children. Why teach them if you aren't going to set the example?
It also makes me angry. I try to be thoughtful and generous, doing things for others. I like to make people happy and to do things to help them. But it is nice to know that my efforts are appreciated. Not that I do it for the 'reward'. I do, however, like to know that what I did mattered to the recipient. When your actions are met with no reaction, it is hard to want to do it again. I feel a little part of my heart turn colder. I care a little less.
Maybe this is why the world is in such a miserable state. Why we have so much crime. People stopped taking the time to say 'Thank you', and this caused others to stop caring. Suddenly, no one worries about anyone else. We become so involved in our own lives, we don't reach out to others. That is truly a sad state. I don't want to turn into that. I just want people to say "Thank you".
And to my loved ones, I say 'Thank you'. For picking me up, holding me up, believing in me, laughing with me, laughing at me, accepting me, and for loving me. I am truly grateful, and hope that I tell you enough.
To help us, Mom always bought stationery for us for Christmas. Sometimes it was note cards with our initial on it, maybe another time it was sheets of paper with our full name in a fancy script. As we got older, Mom would let us pick out our own stationery. I always enjoyed this part. The only time it was a bad idea is when I ordered monogrammed stationery. I had a new electronic typewriter, so I picked out stationery that could be used in the typewriter. I chose a pale blue, with a darker blue monogram at the top. Except I forgot that when you do a monogram, the last initial goes in the middle. I had 200 sheets of paper that said APE at the top!
Anyway, Mom encouraged us to write thank you notes. She told us even if you didn't really like the gift, you should say something nice. You wouldn't write 'Thank you for the hideous skirt'. It wasn't just about the notes. When we went to a friend's house, we thanked her parents for having us over. If you are invited to someone's for dinner, you thank them. If you go out to dinner with someone, you thank them. Mom and Dad made sure we had good manners.
I still write thank you notes. I try to thank the people in my life. I thank my coworkers when they help with a project, I thank my stylist and massage therapist for their services. I thank my parents for all they do for me. I try to thank my friends when they have been there. I even thank men when they hold a door open for me. I know there are probably times I forget, but I do try to let everyone know how much I appreciate them.
Yet in today's world, people don't show appreciation. They just expect you to do things for them. They don't care how much it cost, or how much time you put into it, or what you gave up to do it. They don't say "Thank you". I am sure most people's parents taught them manners, but they've stopped using them. We're so wrapped up in our own lives, or so busy, that we just don't bother. That really makes me sad. I think the world could be a little better if we said 'Thank you' and remembered the manners we were taught as young children. Or the manners we are teaching our children. Why teach them if you aren't going to set the example?
It also makes me angry. I try to be thoughtful and generous, doing things for others. I like to make people happy and to do things to help them. But it is nice to know that my efforts are appreciated. Not that I do it for the 'reward'. I do, however, like to know that what I did mattered to the recipient. When your actions are met with no reaction, it is hard to want to do it again. I feel a little part of my heart turn colder. I care a little less.
Maybe this is why the world is in such a miserable state. Why we have so much crime. People stopped taking the time to say 'Thank you', and this caused others to stop caring. Suddenly, no one worries about anyone else. We become so involved in our own lives, we don't reach out to others. That is truly a sad state. I don't want to turn into that. I just want people to say "Thank you".
And to my loved ones, I say 'Thank you'. For picking me up, holding me up, believing in me, laughing with me, laughing at me, accepting me, and for loving me. I am truly grateful, and hope that I tell you enough.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Dinner and an Apology
After reading yesterday's post, a dear friend of mine told me that truly confident women wear what they want. I liked the idea of being confident. There was a time in my life that confident would not have been a word you used to describe me. I was extremely insecure. That time of my life from elementary school to adulthood. I don't know what age I was, but there comes a point when you start to realize the differences between you and others. This is particularly true if you aren't popular. I never wanted to be popular, I have always preferred to be in the background. I think I would have just liked to be a little less UNpopular.
I have always been tall. Until the boys caught up in high school, I was taller than most of the boys. That was awkward. I always slouched, so that I would not be as tall. As a result, I have horrible posture. I am 5'9" when I stand straight up, but most people don't believe I am that tall. As we hit our teens, I had more curves than some of the other girls. I have never been a stick. There were girls who had more curves than I did, but they also had these big, outgoing personalities. I have always been painfully shy. My own family terrified me. Seriously! We would go to my Grandmother's for Thanksgiving, with dad's 7 siblings and their families (I have 13 first cousins); and I would sit on one couch in the back corner of the living room and just try to blend into the fabric. I would take books and needlepoint to keep me occupied. I am sure people thought I was a snob, but in truth, it was just bashfulness. Meeting new people still upsets my stomach. On top of all this, I was smart and a bookworm. I have never been athletic. I am, in fact, a klutz. All of these led to a huge period of my life where my self-esteem was extremely low.
It has only been in the past decade or so that I have really emerged from that shell. I have realized it is ok to be me- the tall, klutzy bookworm. I am a lot more confident. I wear what I want. I don't worry about my makeup. I figure people either like me or not, and I'm not going to waste a lot of energy or time worrying about it.
But I realized last night that I am still insecure in my cooking. I don't know why. I don't hang out with gourmet chefs. Some of my friends might be; but the people who come to my house for dinner are not gourmet chefs, they are not vying for a spot on the food network. And yet, I still doubt my abilities. We had Erich's parents over for dinner last night. The menu was simple: steaks on the grill, cheesy mashed potatoes, cucumber salad, corn on the grill, dinner rolls, and for dessert a raspberry cheesecake. When I made the mashed potatoes, I accidentally put too much milk in it. They were runny. I tried adding more cheese, I tried cooking it more so it would stiffen up. I just could not get them to firm up. I did stress for a while, and then when I realized there was no chance, I just ladled the potatoes into a serving bowl, passed out bowls to everyone, and told them the mashed potatoes had become potato soup. I was apologizing, and Erich's mom said 'You should have just told us it was potato soup, we wouldn't have known'. They were very kind, and I was the only one not to have two bowls of the 'soup'. When I put the cucumber salad on the table, I explained what it was and said 'if you don't like it, you won't hurt my feelings. It's something my mom always made'. I had tried to make a chocolate sauce for the cheesecake, and it turned out to be more of a paste, so I apologized for that too. I didn't even realize I was doing it during dinner, until afterwards. I need to work on that. After all, every chef has some failures in the kitchen.
Erich's dad called this morning and asked for the recipe for the cucumber salad. I felt so much better about the whole evening! I guess it is a successful event if they want your recipe. Next time, I will try to serve up a few less apologies. :)
I have always been tall. Until the boys caught up in high school, I was taller than most of the boys. That was awkward. I always slouched, so that I would not be as tall. As a result, I have horrible posture. I am 5'9" when I stand straight up, but most people don't believe I am that tall. As we hit our teens, I had more curves than some of the other girls. I have never been a stick. There were girls who had more curves than I did, but they also had these big, outgoing personalities. I have always been painfully shy. My own family terrified me. Seriously! We would go to my Grandmother's for Thanksgiving, with dad's 7 siblings and their families (I have 13 first cousins); and I would sit on one couch in the back corner of the living room and just try to blend into the fabric. I would take books and needlepoint to keep me occupied. I am sure people thought I was a snob, but in truth, it was just bashfulness. Meeting new people still upsets my stomach. On top of all this, I was smart and a bookworm. I have never been athletic. I am, in fact, a klutz. All of these led to a huge period of my life where my self-esteem was extremely low.
It has only been in the past decade or so that I have really emerged from that shell. I have realized it is ok to be me- the tall, klutzy bookworm. I am a lot more confident. I wear what I want. I don't worry about my makeup. I figure people either like me or not, and I'm not going to waste a lot of energy or time worrying about it.
But I realized last night that I am still insecure in my cooking. I don't know why. I don't hang out with gourmet chefs. Some of my friends might be; but the people who come to my house for dinner are not gourmet chefs, they are not vying for a spot on the food network. And yet, I still doubt my abilities. We had Erich's parents over for dinner last night. The menu was simple: steaks on the grill, cheesy mashed potatoes, cucumber salad, corn on the grill, dinner rolls, and for dessert a raspberry cheesecake. When I made the mashed potatoes, I accidentally put too much milk in it. They were runny. I tried adding more cheese, I tried cooking it more so it would stiffen up. I just could not get them to firm up. I did stress for a while, and then when I realized there was no chance, I just ladled the potatoes into a serving bowl, passed out bowls to everyone, and told them the mashed potatoes had become potato soup. I was apologizing, and Erich's mom said 'You should have just told us it was potato soup, we wouldn't have known'. They were very kind, and I was the only one not to have two bowls of the 'soup'. When I put the cucumber salad on the table, I explained what it was and said 'if you don't like it, you won't hurt my feelings. It's something my mom always made'. I had tried to make a chocolate sauce for the cheesecake, and it turned out to be more of a paste, so I apologized for that too. I didn't even realize I was doing it during dinner, until afterwards. I need to work on that. After all, every chef has some failures in the kitchen.
Erich's dad called this morning and asked for the recipe for the cucumber salad. I felt so much better about the whole evening! I guess it is a successful event if they want your recipe. Next time, I will try to serve up a few less apologies. :)
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Fashionista? Not likely.
I have never been much of a fashionista. Nor was I a fashion plate, which is the term we used when I was growing up. Should you doubt this, I only need to point you to my senior year of high school; when I chose to wear jeans and cowboy boots every single day (when listening to Country Music got you picked on). I preferred long skirts or dresses to the minis everyone else was wearing. The most recognizable name in my closet is still Lee. As in Lee Jeans. I have never felt the need to buy outrageously expensive things in the name of fashion. I prefer comfort. Always have. So fashionista is never a name that has been used to describe me.
I used to watch the show What Not to Wear. Until they went after a woman for wearing holiday sweaters. Then I was afraid they'd come after me. I like to dress in a festive manner. I have a lot of Christmas sweaters. Actually, I can wear one a day each work day between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and never repeat. Then there's the long sleeve tops too. Most of my Christmas sweaters are several years old, but they still look like new because I only wear them once, or at most twice, a year.
I have spring themed sweaters, in spring colors with pretty flowers on them. I have fall sweaters with leaves. Of course, I have sweaters with dogs. And I have red,white, & blue tops & sweaters to wear on Memorial Day, Flag Day, 4th of July, Labor Day, September 11, and Veterans Day. And any other day I feel like wearing red, white, & blue.
Now that my hair is long again, I can extend the festive outfit to my hair. I had ponytail holders with red, green, and gold in them for Christmas. A couple even had jingle bells. For the 4th of July, I found a holder that looks like red, blue, and silver fireworks. I found another one that is red, white, & blue- it is bits of material glued together. I can't buy the barrettes, because my hair is too thick. So I'm limited to the ponytail holders, but that's ok, because I end up wearing my hair in a ponytail more often than not. To find these treasures, I have to go to Claires. Probably not a store many 34 year old women go into, but the sales girls are always sweet. Of course, maybe they are thinking 'she should be on What Not to Wear'. If Target or Kohls would carry such things, it would be so much better. I can't be the only person who likes to wear something festive!
Happy 4th of July!
Today is the 4th of July. It is the celebration of America's independence. 4th of July is possibly, after Christmas, my favorite holiday. I know, it's odd- because I am not a summer person. But I love 4th of July. I like band music- trumpets, trombones, all the brass. Yet I played a woodwind. haha! But I just think the brass instruments are sexy, and nothing sets the tone for a good time like marching music (althoough I detested being in marching band!).
Berlin has a parade every year (now it is the only 4th of July parade in Rensselaer County). It was always longer than the Memorial Day parade, and included floats. Different churches and organizations would create a float that went with the theme for that year's parade. One of the older citizens would be the 'grand marshall'. One guy in town has a lot of old cars, from a 1921 Model T to cars from the 1960s. They would all be in the parade, driven by different family members. People on the floats threw candy to the kids standing on the road. The Seagroatt's float threw roses because they grew roses. The Memorial Day parade just goes down Main Street and up to one Cemetery; but the 4th of July parade makes a loop through town. After the parade, people would come back to mom's for a party. It may have only been hot dogs & hamburgers, but mom would have the tables done up with red, white, or blue tablecloths. The paper plates, cups, napkins, and even the plastic silverware all color coordinated. Flags of different sizes decorated the yard, the house, the garage. Some times it was a small gathering, other years, such as in 2006; it was a huge blowout party. In 2006, Berlin was celebrating its 200th anniversary. The 4th of July weekend held most of the events for the year long celebration. This sleepy little hamlet came alive. The hills were rocking! The parade was the biggest one anyone could ever remember. There were picnics, trolley rides through town as you listened to the history, and fireworks. It was a bit of a homecoming; so many people came back to Berlin to see it. I was there. My sister was 7 months pregnant with Sydney, and we had her baby shower the same weekend. We had Laura's baby shower on Sunday, and on Tuesday, we had a huge 4th of July party, which was also a celebration of my 30th birthday. Mom & Dad had rented a tent and tables and chairs. Mom told everyone to come- I have no idea how many people came; but all day long we had family, friends, and townspeople coming in and out. It was glorious. My mother has always thrown the best parties, and this was no exception. People who were there for both parties were amazed at how we transformed things. On Sunday, the tables were covered in lilac & pale green; everything had a Winnie the Pooh theme, and it was cute and sweet. Two days later, everything was red, white, & blue. Everything had a lively feel to it. It was amazing.
I, like every other child born in the USA in 1976, am a bicentennial baby. The year we were born, America celebrated 200 years. For something that was an experiment in democracy, 200 years is quite an achievement! So maybe I was destined to love the 4th of July. Mom's due date was Memorial Day, but I kept everyone waiting for another week or so, making my entrance on June 6. She said my first public outing was the July 4th parade in Berlin. And I am quite sure she had me in a red,white, & blue outfit. Blue may be mom's favorite color, but she likes red too. She really likes red, white & blue. I do not like red; but I love red, white, & blue. It is my favorite color combination.
There is something so majestic about red, white, & blue. So regal. The more I study history, the more the red, white, & blue means to me. It used to mean summer. No homework, staying up a little later, having water balloon fights in the yard, and sitting on my bedroom floor, my head propped on my hands, watching the fireflies dance in the back yard through my screen window. Now, it means freedom. I see the generations of men and women who have fought for us and that freedom. I think of the struggles of the pilgrims, of the pioneers, and even of people today. I think what the country must have been like when my ancestors came here.
My great-great grandfather, Peter Budesheim came to the US from Germany in 1883. His sister, Kate, had already come to the states and was married to an American. Peter came with $30 in his pocket. By today's standards, it would not be very much. It seems like a pittance, even for 1883, to embark with to a new world.
Some of the ancestors on mom's side had been here for 200 or more years when Peter Budesheim set foot on Ellis Island. I really can't imagine what life was like when they arrived. A vast wilderness that had to be cleared. I can't imagine leaving your family, and everything that you knew, to forge a new life. Well, I can imagine it; but I can't imagine doing it knowing you likely will never see them again.
When I decided to go to college in Indiana, I knew no one there. It was my own 'new world'. I met lots of great people, and made friends. But it was hard. Sometimes, it seemed like a foreign land. Indiana at that time, did not observe daylight savings time. So in the summer months, we were an hour behind my family in the East. Hoosiers referred to it as 'Slow Time'. Anytime my family called, they would ask 'what time is it there?' I remember when I was working, and they said we were having a 'pitch-in'. A what?? When it was explained to me that everyone would bring a dish to share, I translated it to a 'covered dish supper'. The first time someone offered me a 'pop', I thought perhaps I was about to get into a fist-fight. Imagine my surprise when they handed me a Coke. Of all my adventures in this new world, the scariest were the sirens that sounded in the spring. Tornado sirens! The first time, I followed my friends to the dorm basement. I was frantic. My only knowledge of tornadoes were The Wizard of Oz, and what I had seen on the news, where whole towns were wiped out.
Like generations of family before me, over the years I have assimilated into my new world. Maybe not completely. I try not to end sentences with prepositions. Sometimes I might fail. I still refer to that drink in a red can as soda, not pop. But I do say ya'll, so I should get some credit for that. However, no matter how strange my new world was, my family back east was just a phone call or a plane ride away. And now, in the age of the internet, mom & dad are an email away. My sister is on Facebook. My mom, sister, & I email each other through the day at work. So it doesn't feel like I'm in this foreign world. I have an even greater appreciation for my ancestors who gave up everything to come to America for a better life. I am thankful for those ancestors who fought to preserve that better life, for themselves and for future generations.
Happy 4th of July!!
Berlin has a parade every year (now it is the only 4th of July parade in Rensselaer County). It was always longer than the Memorial Day parade, and included floats. Different churches and organizations would create a float that went with the theme for that year's parade. One of the older citizens would be the 'grand marshall'. One guy in town has a lot of old cars, from a 1921 Model T to cars from the 1960s. They would all be in the parade, driven by different family members. People on the floats threw candy to the kids standing on the road. The Seagroatt's float threw roses because they grew roses. The Memorial Day parade just goes down Main Street and up to one Cemetery; but the 4th of July parade makes a loop through town. After the parade, people would come back to mom's for a party. It may have only been hot dogs & hamburgers, but mom would have the tables done up with red, white, or blue tablecloths. The paper plates, cups, napkins, and even the plastic silverware all color coordinated. Flags of different sizes decorated the yard, the house, the garage. Some times it was a small gathering, other years, such as in 2006; it was a huge blowout party. In 2006, Berlin was celebrating its 200th anniversary. The 4th of July weekend held most of the events for the year long celebration. This sleepy little hamlet came alive. The hills were rocking! The parade was the biggest one anyone could ever remember. There were picnics, trolley rides through town as you listened to the history, and fireworks. It was a bit of a homecoming; so many people came back to Berlin to see it. I was there. My sister was 7 months pregnant with Sydney, and we had her baby shower the same weekend. We had Laura's baby shower on Sunday, and on Tuesday, we had a huge 4th of July party, which was also a celebration of my 30th birthday. Mom & Dad had rented a tent and tables and chairs. Mom told everyone to come- I have no idea how many people came; but all day long we had family, friends, and townspeople coming in and out. It was glorious. My mother has always thrown the best parties, and this was no exception. People who were there for both parties were amazed at how we transformed things. On Sunday, the tables were covered in lilac & pale green; everything had a Winnie the Pooh theme, and it was cute and sweet. Two days later, everything was red, white, & blue. Everything had a lively feel to it. It was amazing.
I, like every other child born in the USA in 1976, am a bicentennial baby. The year we were born, America celebrated 200 years. For something that was an experiment in democracy, 200 years is quite an achievement! So maybe I was destined to love the 4th of July. Mom's due date was Memorial Day, but I kept everyone waiting for another week or so, making my entrance on June 6. She said my first public outing was the July 4th parade in Berlin. And I am quite sure she had me in a red,white, & blue outfit. Blue may be mom's favorite color, but she likes red too. She really likes red, white & blue. I do not like red; but I love red, white, & blue. It is my favorite color combination.
There is something so majestic about red, white, & blue. So regal. The more I study history, the more the red, white, & blue means to me. It used to mean summer. No homework, staying up a little later, having water balloon fights in the yard, and sitting on my bedroom floor, my head propped on my hands, watching the fireflies dance in the back yard through my screen window. Now, it means freedom. I see the generations of men and women who have fought for us and that freedom. I think of the struggles of the pilgrims, of the pioneers, and even of people today. I think what the country must have been like when my ancestors came here.
My great-great grandfather, Peter Budesheim came to the US from Germany in 1883. His sister, Kate, had already come to the states and was married to an American. Peter came with $30 in his pocket. By today's standards, it would not be very much. It seems like a pittance, even for 1883, to embark with to a new world.
Some of the ancestors on mom's side had been here for 200 or more years when Peter Budesheim set foot on Ellis Island. I really can't imagine what life was like when they arrived. A vast wilderness that had to be cleared. I can't imagine leaving your family, and everything that you knew, to forge a new life. Well, I can imagine it; but I can't imagine doing it knowing you likely will never see them again.
When I decided to go to college in Indiana, I knew no one there. It was my own 'new world'. I met lots of great people, and made friends. But it was hard. Sometimes, it seemed like a foreign land. Indiana at that time, did not observe daylight savings time. So in the summer months, we were an hour behind my family in the East. Hoosiers referred to it as 'Slow Time'. Anytime my family called, they would ask 'what time is it there?' I remember when I was working, and they said we were having a 'pitch-in'. A what?? When it was explained to me that everyone would bring a dish to share, I translated it to a 'covered dish supper'. The first time someone offered me a 'pop', I thought perhaps I was about to get into a fist-fight. Imagine my surprise when they handed me a Coke. Of all my adventures in this new world, the scariest were the sirens that sounded in the spring. Tornado sirens! The first time, I followed my friends to the dorm basement. I was frantic. My only knowledge of tornadoes were The Wizard of Oz, and what I had seen on the news, where whole towns were wiped out.
Like generations of family before me, over the years I have assimilated into my new world. Maybe not completely. I try not to end sentences with prepositions. Sometimes I might fail. I still refer to that drink in a red can as soda, not pop. But I do say ya'll, so I should get some credit for that. However, no matter how strange my new world was, my family back east was just a phone call or a plane ride away. And now, in the age of the internet, mom & dad are an email away. My sister is on Facebook. My mom, sister, & I email each other through the day at work. So it doesn't feel like I'm in this foreign world. I have an even greater appreciation for my ancestors who gave up everything to come to America for a better life. I am thankful for those ancestors who fought to preserve that better life, for themselves and for future generations.
Happy 4th of July!!
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Bored with this Recession
Lately I have been feeling a bit bored. Not just the withdrawal I've felt in the past couple of weeks while the Yankees were on a west coast swing (and therefore on too late at night for me to watch). It's not any particular moment- it's just an overall general feeling. My life is boring.
I usually talk to my parents on Sunday nights (as well as other times during the week). My mom always asks what I did that weekend. And for several months, my answer has been the same. It varies if, for instance, I had a hair appointment and had the color screwed up so that I left the salon with hair that was three colors. Otherwise, it is pretty much 'nothing interesting'. While sometimes I am able to blame the fibro, most of the time we haven't done anything on the weekend. Anything outside the house/yard that is.
I realized just how dull my life has become this past week. When talking to mom, the highlight of my weekend had been cleaning out the refrigerator! I finally told my mom that my life is pretty dull because money is tight in the house, so we don't go out.
Our household income has been cut by at least 50% in the past eighteen months. Possibly more than that. So we have had to cut back. Not that we were out partying all weekend before this! Before the recession, we led what others might consider dull lives. Neither of us are party animals. We each prefer the quiet and comfort of our own house to a crowded bar or restaurant. We don't go to amusement parks. I was the only one who travelled. Erich likes to see different places, but doesn't like to endure the travel part. The movies had already gotten so expensive that we were only going maybe once a year.
But we did things. Probably our biggest attraction was a book store. We are both book worms, and we can spend an afternoon in a book store. We would go at least once a month. When Books & Co had their semi-annual sale, we would mark the calendar and plan a day of it. Lunch out, the bookstore, maybe other shopping. Last week, we received the post card for this years sale, and we looked at it wistfully, and then threw it away. There was no discussion about going. We knew we couldn't.
We used to eat out a lot. I don't like cooking. I only cook to survive, as I may have mentioned in a previous post or two. Thursday night was always takeout night. We are lucky in Middletown- we have a lot of restaurants. Applebees, Olive Garden, Bob Evans, etc. Thursdays are the roughest days for me- I get through three days of work and by Thursday, I am dragging myself out the door, giving myself a pep talk to get through til lunch, and then to survive the afternoon until quitting time. (Today was no different, I was giving myself motivating talks all morning). So Thursday was always take out night. If there were other nights we didn't feel like cooking, or I hadn't taken anything out of the freezer, we'd just do take-out. Whenever we went shopping on the weekend, even grocery shopping, we had lunch (or an early dinner) out.
Eating out was one of the first things we cut. First we made a conscious decision to cut back to only doing take out or eating out once a week. Then we started cutting back when we were out. Why stop and get a sub when we have cold cuts at home? Things like that. Now we are down to maybe eating out or doing take out just a couple of times a month, and sometimes not even that. If we can't agree on what to fix for dinner, or I didn't take anything out, we scrounge. Which for me means fixing a cheese quesidilla, or a grilled cheese. Erich will eat canned soup or beans.
We have said we would like to go explore a couple of neighboring towns. They have quaint old areas with terrific architecture and neat little shops. And we will do that, but not when it's hot, as I don't function well in the heat. We can window shop if nothing else.
I don't really look at the newspaper any more to find things happening that weekend. We look for inexpensive things that we enjoy. Sitting by the fire on our patio. It's free thanks to Hurricane Ike which destroyed our cherry tree in 2008, and left us with a supply of wood that will last for years. It is relaxing too.
We both read. A lot. I'm knitting more and more, because I have extra time. In a couple of weeks we will go to the Balloon Festival, weather permitting. It is $5 per car to park, and you can take in your own food and watch the balloons. It's one of the neat things about living in Middletown. I want to go to the Cincinnati Zoo to see the Komodo Dragon. It is now a permanent exhibit, so we know if we don't get there this year, it will wait.
I am grateful it is just our entertainment we have had to cut. We still have a roof over our head, food in the freezers and pantry, and the utilities haven't been shut off. So things are not dire. But they are the worst they have been for Erich and I in the 10 years we've lived here. It's hard to stay upbeat. Erich gets more down about it than I do, but then again it is primarily his salary that has taken the hit. I just get a little blue when I think of another weekend of doing nothing other than laundry, watching tv, and knitting. It has become routine. I feel like those old married couples who never do anything fun any more. I know quiet weekends are great, but I feel like every weekend of my life lately is a quiet weekend. I long for SOMETHING. Not the excitement of having purple, orange, and brown hair; but something different.
I usually talk to my parents on Sunday nights (as well as other times during the week). My mom always asks what I did that weekend. And for several months, my answer has been the same. It varies if, for instance, I had a hair appointment and had the color screwed up so that I left the salon with hair that was three colors. Otherwise, it is pretty much 'nothing interesting'. While sometimes I am able to blame the fibro, most of the time we haven't done anything on the weekend. Anything outside the house/yard that is.
I realized just how dull my life has become this past week. When talking to mom, the highlight of my weekend had been cleaning out the refrigerator! I finally told my mom that my life is pretty dull because money is tight in the house, so we don't go out.
Our household income has been cut by at least 50% in the past eighteen months. Possibly more than that. So we have had to cut back. Not that we were out partying all weekend before this! Before the recession, we led what others might consider dull lives. Neither of us are party animals. We each prefer the quiet and comfort of our own house to a crowded bar or restaurant. We don't go to amusement parks. I was the only one who travelled. Erich likes to see different places, but doesn't like to endure the travel part. The movies had already gotten so expensive that we were only going maybe once a year.
But we did things. Probably our biggest attraction was a book store. We are both book worms, and we can spend an afternoon in a book store. We would go at least once a month. When Books & Co had their semi-annual sale, we would mark the calendar and plan a day of it. Lunch out, the bookstore, maybe other shopping. Last week, we received the post card for this years sale, and we looked at it wistfully, and then threw it away. There was no discussion about going. We knew we couldn't.
We used to eat out a lot. I don't like cooking. I only cook to survive, as I may have mentioned in a previous post or two. Thursday night was always takeout night. We are lucky in Middletown- we have a lot of restaurants. Applebees, Olive Garden, Bob Evans, etc. Thursdays are the roughest days for me- I get through three days of work and by Thursday, I am dragging myself out the door, giving myself a pep talk to get through til lunch, and then to survive the afternoon until quitting time. (Today was no different, I was giving myself motivating talks all morning). So Thursday was always take out night. If there were other nights we didn't feel like cooking, or I hadn't taken anything out of the freezer, we'd just do take-out. Whenever we went shopping on the weekend, even grocery shopping, we had lunch (or an early dinner) out.
Eating out was one of the first things we cut. First we made a conscious decision to cut back to only doing take out or eating out once a week. Then we started cutting back when we were out. Why stop and get a sub when we have cold cuts at home? Things like that. Now we are down to maybe eating out or doing take out just a couple of times a month, and sometimes not even that. If we can't agree on what to fix for dinner, or I didn't take anything out, we scrounge. Which for me means fixing a cheese quesidilla, or a grilled cheese. Erich will eat canned soup or beans.
We have said we would like to go explore a couple of neighboring towns. They have quaint old areas with terrific architecture and neat little shops. And we will do that, but not when it's hot, as I don't function well in the heat. We can window shop if nothing else.
I don't really look at the newspaper any more to find things happening that weekend. We look for inexpensive things that we enjoy. Sitting by the fire on our patio. It's free thanks to Hurricane Ike which destroyed our cherry tree in 2008, and left us with a supply of wood that will last for years. It is relaxing too.
We both read. A lot. I'm knitting more and more, because I have extra time. In a couple of weeks we will go to the Balloon Festival, weather permitting. It is $5 per car to park, and you can take in your own food and watch the balloons. It's one of the neat things about living in Middletown. I want to go to the Cincinnati Zoo to see the Komodo Dragon. It is now a permanent exhibit, so we know if we don't get there this year, it will wait.
I am grateful it is just our entertainment we have had to cut. We still have a roof over our head, food in the freezers and pantry, and the utilities haven't been shut off. So things are not dire. But they are the worst they have been for Erich and I in the 10 years we've lived here. It's hard to stay upbeat. Erich gets more down about it than I do, but then again it is primarily his salary that has taken the hit. I just get a little blue when I think of another weekend of doing nothing other than laundry, watching tv, and knitting. It has become routine. I feel like those old married couples who never do anything fun any more. I know quiet weekends are great, but I feel like every weekend of my life lately is a quiet weekend. I long for SOMETHING. Not the excitement of having purple, orange, and brown hair; but something different.
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