The last two New Year's ... New Year'ses? New Years? Eh. The last two Eves (see, that works), I've put together a "done list" that talks about the things that got done in the year preceding. It's meant to provide a sense of accomplishment in the face of a daunting, multi-year, to-do list.
Each year my done list includes the number of blog posts I've published. And in case you haven't kept track along with me (and can't see the little archive that appears on the right side of this page), I published 57 posts each in 2009 and 2010. Some kind of weird record in consistency that I promise was not at all planned.
Not this year. This year, I published a scant 35 posts. Until this one goes up. Then it will be 36.
Which is 21 short. And entirely lame.
It's not that I wasn't doing other, deeply legitimate things. I was. Managing my kids, who've had a bit of a rough year. Managing yet another au pair transition, because our lovely, as yet tattoo-free German missed her family and decided to go home 7 months early. Managing work, and one of the biggest projects of my career. And managing my health and my house and my finances.
You know. Living.
I heard on the radio today - which I was listening to in the morning, so you can't really trust what I'm about to tell you - but I heard that if you want to keep your New Year's resolutions, you need to make just one. And you need to forgive yourself and start over if you break it. Which is kind of like how the whole diet/fitness/health thing works. So you'd think I'd be familiar.
And maybe this will be my resolution. To find my bloggy inspiration again. Because I miss the writing.
I miss it a lot.
Showing posts with label totally random. Show all posts
Showing posts with label totally random. Show all posts
December 29, 2011
July 13, 2011
Design
This is where you can tell I am so not a designer. Because I've been playing with my page, and it's still really ugly. I want to turn my little blog over to my sister (the older of my two sisters ... the one who creates artsy stuff on a somewhat regular basis, even if it's not web stuff) and make her make it pretty, because I've been trying and failing since I started this thing.
But hey, that picture in the background? I took it. And it's actually kinda pretty, albeit kinda hard to see. It's a picture of Paradise, on Mt. Rainier, of a little clump of flowers in the mist there. And I like it. But it doesn't exactly match my theme now, does it? I should snap a shot of a garden full of rosemary, is what I should do. I did try the elbows in the background (you can still see the elbow shot, by the profile). But that big it just looked freaky weird.
If you've got a visual eye, make a suggestion! I'm all ears. Or, in this case, thumbs. Because you can't build a web page with your ears.
But hey, that picture in the background? I took it. And it's actually kinda pretty, albeit kinda hard to see. It's a picture of Paradise, on Mt. Rainier, of a little clump of flowers in the mist there. And I like it. But it doesn't exactly match my theme now, does it? I should snap a shot of a garden full of rosemary, is what I should do. I did try the elbows in the background (you can still see the elbow shot, by the profile). But that big it just looked freaky weird.
If you've got a visual eye, make a suggestion! I'm all ears. Or, in this case, thumbs. Because you can't build a web page with your ears.
December 17, 2010
Customer Service
This post has nothing to do with my kids, my friends, food, or even knitting (because sometimes I blog about knitting). Just so you know that going in.
Today I got a bill for $45 from Sirius/XM, the satellite radio people. A one-year subscription to satellite radio and a kick-ass overhead entertainment system came as freebies with my just-this-side-of-crappy minivan. Both were things I didn't need, but they do add some value, mostly in that my kids don't try to kill each other in the car when their brains are full of mush. Case in point: Radio Disney, which is a lifesaver on long car rides when I forget to let the kids bring their various electronic devices. In our area, you can't get Radio Disney on an actual radio unless that radio is satellite-friendly. Mine is. Big win.
The other thing I like about satellite radio is that I can find a station - in fact, many stations - that play music in the mornings. Which means there are no horrid deejays screeching at me and trying to be funny, something most commercial radio stations consider to be an asset. I do not. I don't like mornings. I particularly don't like loud mornings that try too hard. My satellite radio understands.
But I don't like paying for it. I mean, this is not a thing I need. If I don't want people hollering at me, I can just shut the darn thing off and play a CD.
So I got this bill from Sirius/XM for $45 for three months of service. I get a similar bill every, oh, let's just say it's every three months. It's not, really, but let's say it is. And when I get said bill, that $45 reminds me that I'm a single mom on a budget, and satellite radio is not something I need. So I call to cancel.
And then they tell me I can get five months for $15. Would I like to renew?
Well, sure. I can give up one cinammon dolce latte a month for Radio Disney and a quiet morning commute.
Five months later, like clockwork, I get a bill from Sirius/XM for $45 for three months of service, reminding me once again that I'm a single mom on a budget and satellite radio is not something I need. So I call to cancel. And then they tell me I can get five months for $15, and would I like to renew?
Uh ... sure?
The thing is, I'd just pay the damn bill if they'd charge a reasonable price in the first place.
They are almost as bad as Verizon, who gives me my phone and internet. Blazing fast speed and a dial tone every time I pick up the phone. I like that.
What I don't like is the following conversation, which I have had with them five times - yes, five times - in the past six months.
Verizon Rep: Hi, Rosemary! I'm calling to offer you Verizon FIOS for the low low price of something much lower than you're paying now.
Me: Wow, that's a great offer. I'll take it!
Verizon Rep: Uh ... wait. Our records show that you already have FIOS.
Me: Why yes. Yes, I do. I've had FIOS for more than five years now. But that prices is fabulous! Thanks for offering it to me. I'll take it.
Verizon Rep: Yeah, see, we can't do that. Because you already have FIOS. And we want to reward your loyalty over these past five years by charging you far, far more than we charge anyone else.
Me: Gee, how thoughtful! Thanks a ton for screwing me over and then calling to let me know all about it. Much appreciated.
Verizon Rep: Glad I could help. Have a great day!
For the record, I generally like Verizon, or I'd have switched a long time ago. Just as I like Sirius/XM. But seriously (ha ha - SIRIUSly, get it?) ... that business model, it's not exactly customer-friendly.
Now, here's one that is. This is my experience with the fine, fine folks at DirecTV. See, they don't know this, but they caused the first big fight of my marriage. My then newly wedded husband wanted a satellite dish so he could watch lots and lots and lots of sports. Back then, though, you had to buy the dish. And the box. And the remote. And when you added all that up with installation and the first few months of service, it came to roughly $1,000. If I think $45 is too much to pay for three months of radio, you can imagine how I felt about paying $1,000 for TV.
Well, I lost the fight, and we got DirecTV, which I inherited along with the house when the ex and I separated. Thing is, I'm a single mom on a budget, and I could not afford the $140 or so a month we'd been paying for the privilege of watching television. So I called DirecTV.
Me: Hi, DirecTV. I'm now a single mom on a budget and I need to cancel my service.
DirecTV: Ma'am, I see you've been a customer since the dawn of time. We value your loyalty. How about we shave this and trim that, and maybe refund you a bit of this, and while I'm at it, how about I send you a free remote to replace the one you accidentally put out with the recycling?
I now pay $32 a month for (very basic) satellite TV and a DVR, which means I can put my kids to bed and still watch Burn Notice in its entirety. Now, if only DirecTV could give me Radio Disney in the car, we'd have something.
Today I got a bill for $45 from Sirius/XM, the satellite radio people. A one-year subscription to satellite radio and a kick-ass overhead entertainment system came as freebies with my just-this-side-of-crappy minivan. Both were things I didn't need, but they do add some value, mostly in that my kids don't try to kill each other in the car when their brains are full of mush. Case in point: Radio Disney, which is a lifesaver on long car rides when I forget to let the kids bring their various electronic devices. In our area, you can't get Radio Disney on an actual radio unless that radio is satellite-friendly. Mine is. Big win.
The other thing I like about satellite radio is that I can find a station - in fact, many stations - that play music in the mornings. Which means there are no horrid deejays screeching at me and trying to be funny, something most commercial radio stations consider to be an asset. I do not. I don't like mornings. I particularly don't like loud mornings that try too hard. My satellite radio understands.
But I don't like paying for it. I mean, this is not a thing I need. If I don't want people hollering at me, I can just shut the darn thing off and play a CD.
So I got this bill from Sirius/XM for $45 for three months of service. I get a similar bill every, oh, let's just say it's every three months. It's not, really, but let's say it is. And when I get said bill, that $45 reminds me that I'm a single mom on a budget, and satellite radio is not something I need. So I call to cancel.
And then they tell me I can get five months for $15. Would I like to renew?
Well, sure. I can give up one cinammon dolce latte a month for Radio Disney and a quiet morning commute.
Five months later, like clockwork, I get a bill from Sirius/XM for $45 for three months of service, reminding me once again that I'm a single mom on a budget and satellite radio is not something I need. So I call to cancel. And then they tell me I can get five months for $15, and would I like to renew?
Uh ... sure?
The thing is, I'd just pay the damn bill if they'd charge a reasonable price in the first place.
They are almost as bad as Verizon, who gives me my phone and internet. Blazing fast speed and a dial tone every time I pick up the phone. I like that.
What I don't like is the following conversation, which I have had with them five times - yes, five times - in the past six months.
Verizon Rep: Hi, Rosemary! I'm calling to offer you Verizon FIOS for the low low price of something much lower than you're paying now.
Me: Wow, that's a great offer. I'll take it!
Verizon Rep: Uh ... wait. Our records show that you already have FIOS.
Me: Why yes. Yes, I do. I've had FIOS for more than five years now. But that prices is fabulous! Thanks for offering it to me. I'll take it.
Verizon Rep: Yeah, see, we can't do that. Because you already have FIOS. And we want to reward your loyalty over these past five years by charging you far, far more than we charge anyone else.
Me: Gee, how thoughtful! Thanks a ton for screwing me over and then calling to let me know all about it. Much appreciated.
Verizon Rep: Glad I could help. Have a great day!
For the record, I generally like Verizon, or I'd have switched a long time ago. Just as I like Sirius/XM. But seriously (ha ha - SIRIUSly, get it?) ... that business model, it's not exactly customer-friendly.
Now, here's one that is. This is my experience with the fine, fine folks at DirecTV. See, they don't know this, but they caused the first big fight of my marriage. My then newly wedded husband wanted a satellite dish so he could watch lots and lots and lots of sports. Back then, though, you had to buy the dish. And the box. And the remote. And when you added all that up with installation and the first few months of service, it came to roughly $1,000. If I think $45 is too much to pay for three months of radio, you can imagine how I felt about paying $1,000 for TV.
Well, I lost the fight, and we got DirecTV, which I inherited along with the house when the ex and I separated. Thing is, I'm a single mom on a budget, and I could not afford the $140 or so a month we'd been paying for the privilege of watching television. So I called DirecTV.
Me: Hi, DirecTV. I'm now a single mom on a budget and I need to cancel my service.
DirecTV: Ma'am, I see you've been a customer since the dawn of time. We value your loyalty. How about we shave this and trim that, and maybe refund you a bit of this, and while I'm at it, how about I send you a free remote to replace the one you accidentally put out with the recycling?
I now pay $32 a month for (very basic) satellite TV and a DVR, which means I can put my kids to bed and still watch Burn Notice in its entirety. Now, if only DirecTV could give me Radio Disney in the car, we'd have something.
October 10, 2010
Won't You Be My Neighbor?
As I've mentioned before - to the point where this is now tatooed on my forehead in bright red ink - I never leave my house. Single mom. Three kids. I live at home. I work at home.
I don't get out much.
All that time in my house has made me pasty white and about as fit as a marshmallow. So when my au pair was sick the other day and it was time to walk to school and pick up the two younger kids, I said a very sympathetic, "Oh, honey, you go rest. I'll get the kids." Then I grabbed the keys and dashed out the door before she could change her mind.
My kids were overjoyed. They ran out of school and threw their arms around me as if I'd just returned from Mars.
My redhead was particularly thrilled. Because he had news. He pulled my head down and pretended to whisper.
"Mom!" he said. "That's her! That's her!" Only he used her name, because he's smart like that.
It turns out that this little girl is in his class. And she has a pet crocodile. She brought it in to school and now my little guy has a HUGE crush on her, because what reasonable boy would not have a crush on a girl with a pet crocodile. Not to mention she's a cutie.
So he tried to follow her home after school. Sat down on the curb, refused to budge, and said, "Mom! Wait! I want to see where she lives."
Now her dad, who's my neighbor and seems a friendly enough fellow, thinks I'm raising a stalker. Which, very possibly, I am.
Wait till I tell him I'm letting my nearly-12-year-old date.
Probably I should leave my house more, if only so the neighbors don't fear me.
I don't get out much.
All that time in my house has made me pasty white and about as fit as a marshmallow. So when my au pair was sick the other day and it was time to walk to school and pick up the two younger kids, I said a very sympathetic, "Oh, honey, you go rest. I'll get the kids." Then I grabbed the keys and dashed out the door before she could change her mind.
My kids were overjoyed. They ran out of school and threw their arms around me as if I'd just returned from Mars.
My redhead was particularly thrilled. Because he had news. He pulled my head down and pretended to whisper.
"Mom!" he said. "That's her! That's her!" Only he used her name, because he's smart like that.
It turns out that this little girl is in his class. And she has a pet crocodile. She brought it in to school and now my little guy has a HUGE crush on her, because what reasonable boy would not have a crush on a girl with a pet crocodile. Not to mention she's a cutie.
So he tried to follow her home after school. Sat down on the curb, refused to budge, and said, "Mom! Wait! I want to see where she lives."
Now her dad, who's my neighbor and seems a friendly enough fellow, thinks I'm raising a stalker. Which, very possibly, I am.
Wait till I tell him I'm letting my nearly-12-year-old date.
Probably I should leave my house more, if only so the neighbors don't fear me.
September 3, 2010
The Invisible Man
My redhead has a new friend. His name is The Invisible Man, and he comes everywhere with us. Usually he sits in the back seat of my minivan between the redhead and his big brother. They strap him in with a seat belt because he can't buckle his own. He's engaged to be married to Junia, my diva's long-time imaginary friend. Which tells you a little something about The Invisible Man that you may not have figured out yet.
He's not real.
He does, however, go to school. It seems he wants to learn to read.
This afternoon, as my redhead and I tickled our way through his big brother's soccer practice, my redhead announced, "I think I might have peed my pants a little."
I was surprised. "Didn't you go to the bathroom at school?"
"No. They don't have bathrooms at school."
"I'm sure they do, peanut. Every school has bathrooms."
"Not mine."
"Are you sure?"
He put his puzzled face on. "Maybe I don't know where it is."
"Did you ask your teacher?"
"No. 'Cause The Invisible Man knows where it is."
"Oh." Time for my own puzzled face.
"But he's not telling. It's a secret."
Ah. Well that makes more sense, then.
I think it's time to send a discreet note to the teacher. Because it's really not fair if she's only showing the imaginary people where the bathrooms are.
He's not real.
He does, however, go to school. It seems he wants to learn to read.
This afternoon, as my redhead and I tickled our way through his big brother's soccer practice, my redhead announced, "I think I might have peed my pants a little."
I was surprised. "Didn't you go to the bathroom at school?"
"No. They don't have bathrooms at school."
"I'm sure they do, peanut. Every school has bathrooms."
"Not mine."
"Are you sure?"
He put his puzzled face on. "Maybe I don't know where it is."
"Did you ask your teacher?"
"No. 'Cause The Invisible Man knows where it is."
"Oh." Time for my own puzzled face.
"But he's not telling. It's a secret."
Ah. Well that makes more sense, then.
I think it's time to send a discreet note to the teacher. Because it's really not fair if she's only showing the imaginary people where the bathrooms are.
July 20, 2010
Call Me Carrie
A blogger acquaintance of mine who may or may not know I read her stuff, but I do read it because it's interesting, funny and insightful ... well, she posted a link to a groovy little app-like thing called I Write Like. You input your stuff, and it churns out a famous writer whose work yours vaguely resembles.
Apparently, this is me:
I think it might be the zombies.
Apparently, this is me:
I think it might be the zombies.
June 30, 2010
Wait, Is It Really July? Well, Almost ...
I came here today intending to blog about frittatas. That's right. Frittatas, and all their eggy goodness.
This post, sadly, is not about frittatas.
On the way to my blog, I got distracted by my friend the Diva. She posted her mid-year resolutions.
I like that idea. See, I did do the New Year's resolution thing. I kept them simple. And I did not make them public, because my resolution track record pretty much sucks.
For reference, here they are: my 2010 New Year's Resolutions, nearly seven months late.
So I like the idea of a whole new set of resolutions, a set of mid-year, hey-what-the-heck-is-it-really-July resolutions, that I might possibly be able to accomplish.
Here they are.
This post, sadly, is not about frittatas.
On the way to my blog, I got distracted by my friend the Diva. She posted her mid-year resolutions.
I like that idea. See, I did do the New Year's resolution thing. I kept them simple. And I did not make them public, because my resolution track record pretty much sucks.
For reference, here they are: my 2010 New Year's Resolutions, nearly seven months late.
- Read
- Sleep
- Move
So I like the idea of a whole new set of resolutions, a set of mid-year, hey-what-the-heck-is-it-really-July resolutions, that I might possibly be able to accomplish.
Here they are.
- Finish the half gallon of Breyer's rocky road ice cream currently melting in my lap. Very doable, particularly as a half gallon container now holds a mere 1.5 quarts. (When exactly did that happen?)
- Learn to say "yes." Ironic, since I spent my year plus in limbo learning how to say "no." Now I'm really good at no and realizing that I need a few more yesses in my life. I'm not talking about "Yes, I'll manage the whole soccer league," or "Yes, I'll make 84 cupcakes for tomorrow's bake sale." I'm talking about "Yes, sweetie, I'd love to play Polly Pockets with you," and "Of course you can have a hug," and "Sure I can read Wacky Wednesday 18 more times today." These are important yesses.
- Find a sugar daddy who wants to buy me a brand new and completely bug-free house and send all three of my super-smart kids to college. (But only if I can keep dating my San Francisco-bound sweetie.)
- Set a new family record by blowing up six - yes, I said six - bottles of Diet Coke with Mentos. This is hands-down my kids' favorite activity of the summer. Yeah, I know, six isn't really that many - particularly when compared with this YouTube classic - but since the kids usually get just the one bottle apiece, six is a big, big deal.
- Write that frittata post. I even took pictures folks. Yes, pictures.
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