In honor of the 10th anniversary of 9/11, I decided to participate in Random Acts of Kindness Day. I kept a friend from buying yarn; I held doors; I smiled a lot; I chit chatted with my cab driver and gave him a very nice tip; I even (wait for it) told a man at Five Guys that he had delightful children.
So I'm on my way home and I'm sitting outside Huntington Metro because my knee is rather screaming at me (two hours in a very uncomfy chair) and because there's no rush to get home and I'm enjoying the weather. A young Indian woman comes up and sits next to me and asks if she can borrow my phone. I'm engaging in RAOK, so I hand the phone over and she makes her calls.
I'm still enjoying the breeze and the day and I'm feeling really good emotionally, so I start to chit chat with her and she asks about why I'm sitting there and I tell her that my knee hurts, so I'm sitting for a bit. Yeah, mistake. Big mistake.
Her response: "You're very fat. Is that why you have trouble walking?"
Let me get this straight. I hand over my phone and let you use it, so now you think it's okay to be too rude for words and insult me. I told her I had arthritis and then she decided to fix my diet. I got up and started walking home.
And then we come to either a RAOK or a kidnap attempt. I'd like to think it was a RAOK, so that's how I'm going to look at it.
I'm limping down the hill (really, screaming knee) and this Honda CR-V pulls up beside me and the young man (probably in his 20s) asks if he can drop me anywhere. Now, I appreciate the thought. Really. But anyone who thinks I'm getting in a car with a stranger is stark raving insane. And as I watched him drive down the hill, I just hoped that he wasn't one of the guys from upstairs who I hadn't recognized. Since he didn't turn into the complex, I'm thinking I'm okay.
Howcver, all in all, the rude woman was my only speed bump. And if I only have one speed bump today, I think I'm doing well.
Off to make some tuna noodle casserole!!!
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Don't touch me!!
The day of the earthquake, I had the joy of hearing someone complain that the pregnant woman took forever to get down the stairs at work. Today, I have my own pregnant woman complaint.
In the grand tradition of Metro, the middle escalator going to the south entrance of Huntington Metro was out, so they had one escalator heading down (the mini one on the left as you're looking at the escalators) and the other mini escalator was turned off. Yeah, if you couldn't walk up the escalator, you had to wait for the incredibly slow elevator. One person suggested that they should have turned the escalator heading down in the opposite direction, but that wouldn't have worked. Knowing people and their incredible talent for being inconsiderate, if one of the mini escalators had been heading up and the other was turned off, you'd have had people like me on the moving escalator and people on the unmoving escalator who either wanted to walk or were too impatient to wait and people trying to get onto the train would have been out of luck unless they wanted to wait for the elevator, so I really do understand why they did things the way that they did.
So, yes, I waited for the elevator (which is partially why I'm still awake at 2:15 a.m. because my knees are screaming at me). Yes, four extra strength tylenol pm, four aleve, six salonpas patches, and my usual Parkinson's meds and my knees are still screaming at me.
There were too many people in line ahead of me on the first trip for me to make it onto the elevator, which is what I expected, so I had to wait for the second trip. By the way, that elevator redefines slow. Even I could have walked up the escalator in the time it took for that elevator to arrive. But if I hadn't waited, I wouldn't have my rude pregnant woman story.
Standing in line were three metro workers (one of whom ended up walking up the escalator) and their cargo -- a money cart. We got onto the elevator and then they decided to see if they could get the cargo onto the elevator. We crowded onto one side, then one metro worker got on, the money cart was pushed on, the second metro worker got on, and then decided that we had room for the third metro worker, which, honestly we did.
Except, oh wait, we had a pregnant woman on board. And I'm betting you think you know where this story is going, but you're wrong.
The second metro worker on the elevator asked if we could squeeze in a bit so the third metro worker could get onto the elevator so a couple of us scooted where we could so that we would have room.
Except the woman behind me says, "No, don't squeeze me! ! I'm pregnant!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
In fact, she was so pregnant that if she hadn't pronounced it to the world in a state of "Oh, my god, strange people will touch me," I wouldn't have noticed because she wasn't that pregnant. I'm telling you, I had to look down twice after we got off the elevator to figure out that she did, in fact, have a teensy little pooch. Because, yeah, not big enough to even be called a baby bump. Honestly, you need to play the card when you need to play the card because you will end up with people like me looking at you at some point and informing you that pregnancy is not a disability and you should suck it up. And then you have people like MSB who should have been playing the card and wasn't and is now in the hospital on bed rest waiting for her babies to be born.
No, I didn't say a word; the filter was on.
Oh, and for those who noticed, no, I don't have Parkinson's. I have restless legs, but the meds are the same.
In the grand tradition of Metro, the middle escalator going to the south entrance of Huntington Metro was out, so they had one escalator heading down (the mini one on the left as you're looking at the escalators) and the other mini escalator was turned off. Yeah, if you couldn't walk up the escalator, you had to wait for the incredibly slow elevator. One person suggested that they should have turned the escalator heading down in the opposite direction, but that wouldn't have worked. Knowing people and their incredible talent for being inconsiderate, if one of the mini escalators had been heading up and the other was turned off, you'd have had people like me on the moving escalator and people on the unmoving escalator who either wanted to walk or were too impatient to wait and people trying to get onto the train would have been out of luck unless they wanted to wait for the elevator, so I really do understand why they did things the way that they did.
So, yes, I waited for the elevator (which is partially why I'm still awake at 2:15 a.m. because my knees are screaming at me). Yes, four extra strength tylenol pm, four aleve, six salonpas patches, and my usual Parkinson's meds and my knees are still screaming at me.
There were too many people in line ahead of me on the first trip for me to make it onto the elevator, which is what I expected, so I had to wait for the second trip. By the way, that elevator redefines slow. Even I could have walked up the escalator in the time it took for that elevator to arrive. But if I hadn't waited, I wouldn't have my rude pregnant woman story.
Standing in line were three metro workers (one of whom ended up walking up the escalator) and their cargo -- a money cart. We got onto the elevator and then they decided to see if they could get the cargo onto the elevator. We crowded onto one side, then one metro worker got on, the money cart was pushed on, the second metro worker got on, and then decided that we had room for the third metro worker, which, honestly we did.
Except, oh wait, we had a pregnant woman on board. And I'm betting you think you know where this story is going, but you're wrong.
The second metro worker on the elevator asked if we could squeeze in a bit so the third metro worker could get onto the elevator so a couple of us scooted where we could so that we would have room.
Except the woman behind me says, "No, don't squeeze me! ! I'm pregnant!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
In fact, she was so pregnant that if she hadn't pronounced it to the world in a state of "Oh, my god, strange people will touch me," I wouldn't have noticed because she wasn't that pregnant. I'm telling you, I had to look down twice after we got off the elevator to figure out that she did, in fact, have a teensy little pooch. Because, yeah, not big enough to even be called a baby bump. Honestly, you need to play the card when you need to play the card because you will end up with people like me looking at you at some point and informing you that pregnancy is not a disability and you should suck it up. And then you have people like MSB who should have been playing the card and wasn't and is now in the hospital on bed rest waiting for her babies to be born.
No, I didn't say a word; the filter was on.
Oh, and for those who noticed, no, I don't have Parkinson's. I have restless legs, but the meds are the same.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Vindication!
Several weeks back, I wrote a post about how I'm always the bad guy. I feel I'm acting in a perfectly reasonable manner and, somehow, the person who's minding my business gets all offended when I fail to react the way they want me to react. The specific incident that inspired that post was a woman with a four-year-old who was offended because I failed to recognize how "special" her son was after he grabbed my hand in a Chicken Out. My friend, CV, was with me on that occasion and was gobsmacked that the mother had attacked me instead of apologizing.
Well, I have been vindicated! Not only did the unknown woman who observed the incident come down on my side, but, apparently, so did one of the mother's friends. CV has a cousin who's a child expert and saw my response to CV's post on facebook and figured out from the small amount I said that I was the "bad guy." It turns out that a friend of the cousin's went to dinner with Mommy Dearest (MD) that night and MD was all up in how horrible I was to poor little Future Axe Murderer. I was informed yesterday that the cousin's friend had told MD that she was wrong and I was right and came home and unfriended MD on facebook because MD was all offended when she should have been apologizing.
Besides, MD should be happy I said "excuse me!" instead of "WTF."
Well, I have been vindicated! Not only did the unknown woman who observed the incident come down on my side, but, apparently, so did one of the mother's friends. CV has a cousin who's a child expert and saw my response to CV's post on facebook and figured out from the small amount I said that I was the "bad guy." It turns out that a friend of the cousin's went to dinner with Mommy Dearest (MD) that night and MD was all up in how horrible I was to poor little Future Axe Murderer. I was informed yesterday that the cousin's friend had told MD that she was wrong and I was right and came home and unfriended MD on facebook because MD was all offended when she should have been apologizing.
Besides, MD should be happy I said "excuse me!" instead of "WTF."
Monday, August 22, 2011
My ex-wife
Well, really, my late husband's ex-wife, but, hey, I still claim her!
I drove down to her house this past weekend to drop off a wine rack that was gathering dust and taking up space that I needed to Bill's crate. I loved her attitude, which was if I'm home, I'm home, if not, leave it on the porch. The perfect recipient of something free.
She lives in a subdivision of cookie-cutter houses. Well, not entirely cookie cutter, but they really do look an awful lot alike. They tend to have apartment size decks (despite being distinctly house-sized houses) and very little personality in the way of decorations or what not.
Not her. Her house has personality and if you pulled into her court and all you knew was that her house had personality, you'd be able to find it in a heartbeat. Plus her house-sized house actually has a house-sized deck, which I think is absolutely wonderful.
So here's to the woman who's a chocolate-covered strawberry in the midst of a bunch of sugar cookies.
Way to go, KT!
I drove down to her house this past weekend to drop off a wine rack that was gathering dust and taking up space that I needed to Bill's crate. I loved her attitude, which was if I'm home, I'm home, if not, leave it on the porch. The perfect recipient of something free.
She lives in a subdivision of cookie-cutter houses. Well, not entirely cookie cutter, but they really do look an awful lot alike. They tend to have apartment size decks (despite being distinctly house-sized houses) and very little personality in the way of decorations or what not.
Not her. Her house has personality and if you pulled into her court and all you knew was that her house had personality, you'd be able to find it in a heartbeat. Plus her house-sized house actually has a house-sized deck, which I think is absolutely wonderful.
So here's to the woman who's a chocolate-covered strawberry in the midst of a bunch of sugar cookies.
Way to go, KT!
Friday, August 19, 2011
Blog fodder
This post has been brought to you by <blank> <blank> Washington National Airport where I picked up a rental car yesterday. I'm spending $29/day for a... Crown Vic. I had reserved a compact car and was expecting a Hyundai Elantra and I, obviously, got an upgrade that I darned near tried to give back because it's a boat.
The <blank> <blank> is because I will not mention that name foisted on us by Bob Barr of Georgia, which is completely contrary to the wishes of the man to whom it belonged. Besides which, it strikes me as a tad insensitive to name an airport after the man who broke the air traffic controllers union. Then again, Bob Barr. Need I say more?
So I'm walking over to counters where the rental cars are and I'm on the outside part, which is covered by an awning, for lack of a better word. It isn't as fluid as a sidewalk is, because there are walls on either side and there's only so far you can move out of someone's way. And, yes, you know what happened.
I was on the righthand side, walking along, and here comes a man with his suitcase, barrelling down the walkway on the lefthand side (that would be his lefthand side). He's very busy watching the sidewalk, looking up now and then. Fortunately for him, he looked up at the right time to avoid hitting me when I stopped walking and said, "You know, I'm allowed to use the sidewalk too." He just swerved around me and then right back to barrelling. Yeesh.
Then the rental car company had three people who were high maintenance, which left one person for the rest of us (I was 6th in line and it expanded behind me) and slow computers. Fortunately, they called a couple of people down to help and once they got rid of one high maintenance person, they started plowing through the rest of us. But fun things can happen when you're in line.
Like the man in front of me, with a groupon, who wanted to know if he really had to stand in line and was told that, yes, he really did. He was also wearing a PBR hat and he was from Texas. Once I got my car, it turned out he was in the car right in front of me in the garage and he had to turn on his bright lights despite the car not moving. Tons of fun. Plus he and the woman ahead of him had to fawn all over the good-looking guy in front of them. Now, when I say good-looking, I mean absolutely drop dead gorgeous. Most definitely drool-worthy. As long as you didn't look at his clothes.
Picture this: gorgeous, hot, lovely man wearing a light blue button-down shirt (losing points for the shades tucked down the front of it), navy blazer and khakis. Then I looked down. Yeah, khakis. Khaki shorts, no socks, and topsiders.
So the two people ahead of me are trying to figure out who this man is. PBR asks if he's a television anchor on that show and the jerk says, "What show?" PBR says that he's seen the guy before and they talk about where PBR from (how I found out he's from Texas) and the guy says he's been in Dallas/Fort Worth a couple times and maybe that's when PBR saw him. At that point, I'm rolling my eyes and I really want to tell them that if he was really "someone," he wouldn't be in the line with the rest of us. But Mr. Khaki Shorts is really enjoying getting one over on these two and all I wanted to do was smack him and telling to stop playing with the stupid people.
Hmmm... that makes me nearly as bad as he was.
The <blank> <blank> is because I will not mention that name foisted on us by Bob Barr of Georgia, which is completely contrary to the wishes of the man to whom it belonged. Besides which, it strikes me as a tad insensitive to name an airport after the man who broke the air traffic controllers union. Then again, Bob Barr. Need I say more?
So I'm walking over to counters where the rental cars are and I'm on the outside part, which is covered by an awning, for lack of a better word. It isn't as fluid as a sidewalk is, because there are walls on either side and there's only so far you can move out of someone's way. And, yes, you know what happened.
I was on the righthand side, walking along, and here comes a man with his suitcase, barrelling down the walkway on the lefthand side (that would be his lefthand side). He's very busy watching the sidewalk, looking up now and then. Fortunately for him, he looked up at the right time to avoid hitting me when I stopped walking and said, "You know, I'm allowed to use the sidewalk too." He just swerved around me and then right back to barrelling. Yeesh.
Then the rental car company had three people who were high maintenance, which left one person for the rest of us (I was 6th in line and it expanded behind me) and slow computers. Fortunately, they called a couple of people down to help and once they got rid of one high maintenance person, they started plowing through the rest of us. But fun things can happen when you're in line.
Like the man in front of me, with a groupon, who wanted to know if he really had to stand in line and was told that, yes, he really did. He was also wearing a PBR hat and he was from Texas. Once I got my car, it turned out he was in the car right in front of me in the garage and he had to turn on his bright lights despite the car not moving. Tons of fun. Plus he and the woman ahead of him had to fawn all over the good-looking guy in front of them. Now, when I say good-looking, I mean absolutely drop dead gorgeous. Most definitely drool-worthy. As long as you didn't look at his clothes.
Picture this: gorgeous, hot, lovely man wearing a light blue button-down shirt (losing points for the shades tucked down the front of it), navy blazer and khakis. Then I looked down. Yeah, khakis. Khaki shorts, no socks, and topsiders.
So the two people ahead of me are trying to figure out who this man is. PBR asks if he's a television anchor on that show and the jerk says, "What show?" PBR says that he's seen the guy before and they talk about where PBR from (how I found out he's from Texas) and the guy says he's been in Dallas/Fort Worth a couple times and maybe that's when PBR saw him. At that point, I'm rolling my eyes and I really want to tell them that if he was really "someone," he wouldn't be in the line with the rest of us. But Mr. Khaki Shorts is really enjoying getting one over on these two and all I wanted to do was smack him and telling to stop playing with the stupid people.
Hmmm... that makes me nearly as bad as he was.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
I have two babies!!!!!
And without further ado, this is BL.
As you can see, he is black, brown, and a touch of white. He's probably about 13 months old and he no longer suffers from testosterone poisoning. Isn't he a beautiful boy?
Sasha's nose is a bit out of joint, but considering that she gets to do things that he doesn't, I don't have a problem with that. Besides, she's getting all kinds of mommy love.
And, because she's just so darned cute, here's my sweet girl.
Vintage Sasha.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
BL has come home!!!
Yes, it's a small pic and it isn't very good, but it's all I've got for now. BL is part Australian Cattle Dog and part Australian Shepherd and he is absolutely beautiful. He's also a project dog because he's very shy, very timid, and about afraid of his own shadow. But, somehow, he grabbed me and Sasha's being very possessive of me right now, clinging more than usual and really wanting lots of love (and she's getting it too!)
His name is BL, after Brooks Laich, who is my very favorite hockey player and I even threatened to become an Oilers fan if the Capitals let him go and Edmonton signed him.
So now I have two dogs with hockey names: Sasha after Sasha Semin and BL after Brooks Laich.
More pics as soon as I can coax him onto the balcony.
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