Why I Need a Camera on My Phone

Yesterday I was in an office building attending a meeting. I stopped in the bathroom (of course!) and saw this sign typed up and taped on the wall:

"Please do not PEE on the toilet seat cover. WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE. We are tired of looking at your PEE. This is a place of business. To pee on the toilet seat cover is very inconsiderate and unprofessional. Why can't you use a disposable paper toilet cover like the rest of us?"

Wow.

Community Calling!

I’ve been thinking about friendship (again!) and wondering why I feel lonely and out of sync. I am a people person with a lot of friends. Lately, however, I feel more in tune with my car, where I spend so much time shuttling people around, than I do with most people.

Add to that our Facebook culture, with in-your-face reminders that everyone else on the planet is going to a costume party, or a wine tasting, or taking Zumba together, and it’s enough to leave this gray-streaked girl feeling a little blue.

For New Year’s 2010, as in 11 months ago, I decided to be more purposeful in finding and maintaining community. I realized I was relying on my online community so much that I wasn’t putting much effort into other relationships.

As we approach the end of the year what’s the verdict on my New Year’s resolution?

Meh.

My small group Bible study disbanded, which was painful and left a void. Eight years and two hours a week with women I loved, and then…. it was over.

My declaration that our family would reach out and entertain more hasn’t happened either. Sports and work responsibilities, exhaustion, trips out of town, and the siren song of the DVR meant that weekend after weekend went by and we didn’t initiate social events.

First of all, Tom and I had different ideas of whom to invite. The question of whom we wanted to get to know better took on too great a significance and started to feel like PRESSURE.

We talked about whether our kids liked their kids. Whether their kids liked our kids. Whether our house was too small for a larger group. Whether we’d be leaving anyone out, which is my greatest fear. In the end, it all just seemed so exhausting and it was easier to say, “Let’s just forget it and watch Burn Notice.”

Lather, rinse, repeat.

I’ve written before about how when the kids were babies, what could have been a lonely time for me was actually rich with friendship and personal growth. There were many opportunities to bond with other women through play-dates and moms’ groups and just sitting around breastfeeding. Having babies and toddlers was TOUGH, so we relied on each other for support.

Now, a lot of those moms have moved out of my immediate vicinity. Schools and sports teams have created mini communities which take time and attention. Women have gone back to work. Couples are splitting up. People are busy. My friendship style has become more "drive-by" than deep.

Forming relationships means moving beyond chance encounters, but for me, going that extra step rarely happens.

I've had better luck keeping in touch with some high school and college friends, and I believe that's because there is usually an instigator who makes things happen (you know who you are Lisa G. and E.G.)

But in day-to-day friendships, I'm kind of suck-ish. I know I need to become an instigator rather than wait for someone else to do it.

It's just that there seems to be a finite number of people you can be in close relationship with, and I’ve realized if I’m not even putting in the time with my husband, my sister and my brother, I’m probably not going to be able to do it very well with friends, either.

So I’m wondering, how do YOU build community when you know and truly like a lot of people, but you feel overwhelmed with the concept of reaching out and making it happen?

How do you make sure the people you do spend time with are the people you want to spend time with?

What works for you?

A Ride on the Crazy Train

So, today I had two interesting things happen to me-- if you don't count forgetting to provide the snack for the final soccer game of the season (aargh). That was more more predictable than interesting.

Incident Number 1:

This morning, when Molly pointed out what she called "Your Secret Freckle," located on my ample backside, I was caught off guard because she's usually yapping about my cellulite. "Has Daddy ever seen that?" she asked. I said, "He probably has, but he doesn't really notice details as much as you do."

She continued, "Well, when would he have seen it?"

Instead of mumbling something about his sometimes needing to shave while I shower, I went into a chirpy, enthusiastic discussion about mommies and daddies being naked while they make babies, AKA make love, AKA "have sex."

Her brow furrowed and she asked the predictable but nevertheless nervous-making question, "Does that mean you and Daddy have done it TWO times?!" Why oh why oh why did I not just say yes and move on?

Let's just say she got even more family life education today than she did at the Pumpkin House. It's all a bit of a blur, but I do remember saying something about "it" being "lots of fun." Oh my. Am thinking I'll regret that later. I was just trying to be all open and "free to be you and me-y."

The conversation ended abruptly with her covering her ears and telling me I was freaking her out.

Incident Number 2:

While I was clipping my fingernails, one shot into the air and flew right into my nostril. Then it ricocheted off of something (my brain?) and plunged down my throat. Neat-o.

I ask you, which of these two events was more alarming and awkward?

Guess.

Them's Fighting Words!

I can forgive the teenage checker at Michael's for a lot of things, including being incredibly slow to sort rolls of change into the register.

What I cannot forgive her for is this:

As we waited, I handed Molly a painting we were going to get framed.

Me to Molly:

"Be careful with that painting. It's over 50 years old."

Cashier to me:

Oh, did you paint it?

Wow.

Saving Money in a Bind

In what could be the world's most boring post, I would LOVE to tell you how to save at least 30 bucks this year.

And if I'm stating the obvious, please bear with me. It's like when I read "Hints from Heloise" and someone sends in a brilliant hint like, "use extra plastic grocery or newspaper bags to pick up dog poop," and I'm like, "Really? Thanks for bestowing such wisdom upon me."

But I digress...

This would be a better post at Back to School time, but I obviously forgot to share it with you this year, and all bets are off for next.

Although a big part of the appeal of Back to School shopping is the smell of fresh erasers, the reams of brand new paper, etc, there is one item you MUST buy used.

Binders.

Each of my kids needed 4-6 binders this year, from 1 inches to big honking 3 inches wide. The cheapest ones at Walmart were about $3.00 each, while most at Staples were in the $8.00 range. Instead of spending $60 on binders, I bought them at the thrift store for a total of $6.90. They were all in pristine condition because apparently, like hangars, binders breed. I'm thinking we'll never have a binder shortage.

Since September I've stocked up on additional binders in various sizes for next year, all at .50-.70 each.

And if you really just love to buy new things, I'm sure those teacher-provided lists will give you plenty of opportunities. Dry erase markers? Hand sanitizer? Toilet paper?

Guess how many glue sticks my friend had to buy for her second grader? 3? 5? Try 60. Sheesh!

Happy Friday!

Furniture Transformations

I have two projects to share today.

Found this little table on a trash heap on a very rainy day. The top is still a little ripply because of all that rain. Primed it, spray painted it Winter Gray, and tried a little distressing with sand paper. I think it's super cute. It needs a little more gluing of the bottom shelf before it hits Craigslist. What do you think? Bedside table? I hope I can find someone to love it.

I bought this desk for $11.00 at the thrift store. What a deal! It's almost 6 feet long and oh sooo heavy. The top was pretty scratched up, but the handy little sander I bought for with birthday money (Thanks, Aunt Betty!) worked like a charm.



Tom primed and painted it for me with a semi-gloss latex we bought to match Heirloom White. The hardware got a coat of Oil Rubbed Bronze spray paint.

I promised Tom I'd try to sell it, but I lied. I don't think he minded. Now it sits happily in my office where all the "blog-magic" takes place. Hee. Hee. I need to get metal frames to hang files inside the drawers. My desk chair is the suede one I found in the trash last year and spray painted. Yep, the suede and all. It sure is easier to take risks with things when they were headed to the dump anyway.



My old desk, which I've had since I was twelve, will have to be the one to find a new home, maybe after a fresh coat of black paint.

Pumpkin Porn?

Each Halloween we visit “The Pumpkin House” in our town. Hundreds of HUMONGOUS pumpkins perch on scaffolding up and down the driveway, and the line of spectators snakes down the block.

Carvings range from cartoon characters and political figures to pop culture icons. It’s not unusual to see the gang from Twilight sitting next to Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party. I am amazed how elaborate the carvings are each year.

Molly takes pictures of nearly every one.

When she saw one of a BULL with a piece of dooky coming out of its rear, and a big slash through it indicating, “NO,” Molly said, “Look, NO BUFFALO POOP! That’s so cool!” Cracked me up.

So we had presidents, Scooby Doo, the Mona Lisa, and even God’s hand reaching across the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel to touch a Jack-o-Lantern. Very neat.

This year’s theme was “optical illusions,” so the line went slowly as people tried to see hidden pictures within pictures.

Check this one out! See the old people? See the vase? See the people playing instruments?

The thing is, hidden or not, there was an awful lot of nudity this year. Seriously. I’m used to a Venus de Milo here or there. Fine. But several of this year’s pumpkins looked like they were ripped straight out of the K*ama Sutra.

I feared my 11 year old boy would encounter porn at some point, but I had no inkling it would be of the Pumpkin variety.

In fact, one pumpkin looked a lot like page 37 of a certain book my well-intentioned friend gave me years ago in an attempt to "loosen me up." When I found the book too hot to handle, I placed it high on my closet shelf. A couple years later, when my father in law was helping with a home improvement project in my closet, he found it and said to Tom, “Heh, Heh… I found your Instruction Manual.” Good times.

Anyhoo, I’m still a fan of the Pumpkin House. And I guess I don’t have to worry about teaching my kids “family life education,” something that is absent from our school’s curriculum. When they ask questions, I can just say, “Wait until next Halloween.”

And that’s no Buffalo Poop.