Office Space

Have you ever been in the zone at work – banging away at your business, no one is more productive than you right now in this moment and then suddenly, you’re derailed. EEEERRRRRRRR! Your flow comes to a screeching halt as something has thwarted your path to a completed to-do-list.

I believe productivity in the workplace is inhibited not by Facebook, Pinterest or eBay (do people still eBay?) but by the nuisances of others. We should all have our own offices. No cubicles or shared workspaces. Here’s why:

Food wrappers: Why does it seem that your co-worker finds it nearly impossible to get chips out of a bag resulting in endless crinkling while they fumble around to nab their next Dorito? Why is it so difficult for them to unwrap candy? Moreover, why do you feel the need to roll up your candy wrapper into a little ball afterwards? Similarly, you don’t need to fold up the extra large paper bag your lunch came in. All the excessive crinkling, crumpling, rustling and shuffling needs to stop! Or…here’s a novel idea…eat in the lunch room so at least your clumsy food wrapper handling is muted and not sailing directly into my ear holes.

Loud chewers: Calm. Down. With the chewing. The food isn’t going anywhere. It’s not animate, it’s not going to jump off the plate and run away (I hope).

The violent crushing of your mandibles while wallowing around bites that are too large for your mouth is bovine and inappropriate. Calm yourself, take smaller bites and maybe think about saving the last 6 inches of your 18 inch sub for a snack tomorrow. I can’t concentrate on writing my blog, this Excel spreadsheet while your sloppy chops are chomping and probably spewing saliva and food all over the place.

--This also includes plate-scrapers, those determined to get every last molecule of food off their lunch plate before calling it good.

Heavy-breathers: I don’t know what causes it but when I’m around a heavy-breather, I feel like they might pass out at anytime and I should keep an eye on them in the event an emergency call needs to be made. And there are times, just like the rest of us, they have a whistler up in that nasal passage of theirs but because they are HBs, the whistling is a touch loud for the office and probably more apropos for…I don’t know…a gymnasium.  It’s like the conscious version of snoring. Baffling yet totally agitating.

Finger-nail clipping:  There is a certain comfort-level that needs to be reached before I’m okay with you clipping your talons in my presence. I don’t appreciate having to dodge the remnants as they get projected across the room – they could take an eye out. I don’t mind you taking care of the occasional catch or sore hangnail. But hearing the constant snip, snip, snip while you clip clip clip away at all ten of your claws makes me squirm (and hope that you don’t continue with your feet). Groom at home, in your car, or the bathroom if you must self-manicure right this second. But I will quit my job the second I find your nail scraps in my hair.  

Finger-tappers: This includes finger-nail tapping for you acrylic lovers. Surely, you must have another nervous habit or pastime that isn’t audible. Leg-bouncing, nail-chewing, chin-rubbing…something. Needless to say, fingers constantly percussing whatever rhythmic pattern your brain is marching to and tap tap tapping away all day, every day is maddening. Am I in Drumline 2: From the Street to the Office? Where’s Nick Cannon? Develop some self-awareness and come to realize that the tune you’re tapping doesn’t sound the same to others as it does to you. You may hear the drum breakdown from Phil Collins’, In the Air Tonight, but to me, it’s a bunch of senseless racket. Pa rum pa rum dumb.

Stinky lunch-eater: Don’t get me wrong. I am an offender. I love eating food that may be unpleasant to the olfactory. A vinegar dressing. Sauerkraut. Fish. Curried something. I’ve also burnt a bag of popcorn or two (one time intentionally because I knew it really bothered someone I didn’t like). Additionally, speaking as a someone who has been through two pregnancies, I can say that the scent of my co-worker’s daily lunch of Thai noodles didn’t sit well with me during the first trimester and as a result, I had to vacate the office before my breakfast vacated my gut.  

Ultimately, we are all office delinquents in some aspect and there is something that each of us does that annoys another. The hope for a universe in which we all have our individual offices and the freedom to shut our doors is unrealistic. Until then, we must appreciate the finer features of cubicle-living like being able to eavesdrop on conversations and personal phone calls, the warm, cozy feeling of community and viewing your neighbor’s web-surfing.

The Jingle Hell Rock

The holidays (Thanksgiving through New Year’s Day) are my favorite time of year. During this time, I love living each day to its fullest (stop saying “You should do that every day!” right now. No one does. Accept it.). This year, the House Kitzmiller was plagued with disease, sickness and medical issues that not even the CDC could explain or cure. It was horrendous and began right around the time I would normally start my festive outlook on life which brings nothing but joy, jubilation and sometimes frolicking. The dark cloud of malady and affliction descended upon us, relentless and fierce, like the holy swarm of locusts. My oldest daughter Kasen suffered first. What seemed to be a standard head cold ravaged her little sinuses and the girl leaked green mucus from her nose for a week. Eden was next. She would look up at me with her tiny, congested head with eyes she could hardly open because of the sinus pressure and say “Hewwo,” (hello) in a voice akin to Kathleen Turner’s. Soon after, Kasen succumbed to a 104 degree fever for four days before it finally gave way to a chest cold and later, a second head cold resulting in a severe inner ear infection. This resulted in two doctors appointments and an ER visit. Eden was next to walk down that same path. Fever, cold, ear infection, antibiotics, two more doctor appointments. Then it inevitably took its choke-hold on me. A bastard viral chest infection and bronchitis which then lead to a sinus infection. After two weeks I surrendered and kept our sixth doctor appointment in half as many weeks. During this time, my husband decided to become unknowingly allergic to all things aspirin. Random allergic reactions in which his eyes and lips would swell ensued. His co-workers probably thought I beat him (which is not entirely false or unrealistic. I am merciless when it comes to Words With Friends). Doctor appointments seven and eight, chalked.

Could it be?  A light at the end of the tunnel? Surely, we must be on the mend. But quicker than you can say, “Flu shots are bullshit,” Kasen vomited all over her bed. And after her system had been cleared via both ends, Eden did the same, only it was all over me as I sat down to eat a Christmas cookie. Eden now gags when I show her a Christmas cookie. Great!!! She associates Christmas cookies with vomiting. Le sigh. This is not what I intended. Eden then became afflicted with a second fever followed by a full-body rash. A few days later, I blew chunks at 5 o’clock in the morning. This brings us to December 22^nd. Three sleeps until Christmas and my family is still battling. The festive season with occasional frolicking has been ruined. We persevered though. We pulled ourselves up by our bootstraps and marched on to Christmas Eve and successfully made all family rounds – despite the horrible cough that Eden developed in a matter of hours which I attributed to her incessant smoking habit and chose to ignore until she puked as a result. In the end, we merely survived Christmas this year. And yet here I sit, still thankful because somewhere, people have children stricken with something much worse than a fever, a head cold, an earache or diarrhea. They may have something an antibiotic can’t cure, something that may never go away, something that might very well prevent them from seeing another Christmas at all. And it is that which reminds me that I need to be grateful and treasure all I have because it is precious and mine.

I hope you all had a wonderful and merry Christmas.  Now where’s the aspirin -- I mean, Tylenol?

Thank you, Bacon.

I recently started a new job and have absolutely zero time to sit down at the computer and blog or even be alert and aware enough to be inspired to blog.  More on that another day. But I felt it necessary, it being Thanksgiving...the holidays...that time of year, to post something. I wrote this last year around the same time and have decided to reshare. Lazy, I know, but it's something people!

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Yesterday morning I woke up and during my early morning (10am) routine, the scent of bacon graced my nostrils. My husband was surely preparing the delectable pork product downstairs for us to hog down. Instant excitement. Instant nostalgia. Instantly, I was thankful.

Bacon, while utterly delicious, isn't made too often in our house (my overall health thanks me) just due to not many breakfasts being had together (opposite work schedules) and there not being too many other dishes we use it in.  So when bacon makes its presence known by encircling my nose with wafts of salty, fatty goodness, it takes me back. It reminds me of Thanksgiving morning. My Mom used to make us all breakfast (this and Christmas morning as well) and the smell of bacon would travel throughout the household letting us know it was time to get our asses in gear. I loved Thanksgiving morning, still do. I'd rise early to watch the parade (and eat bacon) and watch in awe while my Mom began preparing the feast that would quickly disappear into our bellies in a few hours. The anticipation of family that I don't see often enough excited me and I couldn't wait to finish dinner so I could devour a piece (or three) of Mom's apple pie. That feeling of home, family, love, tradition, is embedded in me, became a part of me and is carried with me to this day. And all of those feelings unfortunately rarely rise to the surface. But on Thanksgiving, they swell up and fill me with that same child-like anticipation. And when I smell bacon, Thanksgiving morning or not, I get a little taste of those emotions as well and they make me feel blessed and lucky - thankful for all sorts of things.

I'm thankful for bacon, for it making me feel this way. I'm thankful for my family and friends, that I have any at all and the ones I do have are fantastic. I'm thankful for my daughters - they're beautiful and give me purpose. I'm thankful that I have a husband, a very nice husband who loves me. He's not abusive or mean and he loves our kids. That's what a husband is supposed to be; there are a lot who haven't earned that title. I'm thankful for having my five senses (sometimes six). I can take in every ounce of the beauty and good that exists. Unfortunately the negative comes along with it but the positive outweighs it yes? Depends on the day I suppose. I'm thankful for Grandmas, great Grandmas and Great-Grandmas for that matter. I'm thankful for my dogs, they're so stupid and so smart all at the same time. I'm thankful that just the other day I was able to copy down a recipe that has been passed down countless times through our family, originating from a woman I've never met but she was sure I would exist someday. I'm thankful for baths, wine and candles because they make me feel good. I'm thankful for baby toes because they will put a smile on anyone's face. Too bad toes end up being kind of gross over time. I'm thankful for buffalo chicken wings (naked and saucy). I'm thankful for my mistakes and even more thankful that I've learned from them. I'm thankful for God's reminders that I don't have the right to be a cry-baby even though sometimes I just want to be. I'm thankful for music. Music can do anything. It can make people laugh, cry, smile, love and move their bodies in ways they wouldn't normally do. It makes people tap their toes. When else do you tap your toes? I'm thankful for food, that I can eat breakfast, lunch and dinner and snack in between. I'm thankful for eggs, because they go so well with bacon. I'm thankful for a million things which tells me that I'm thankful for a lot more than I'm not thankful for. And so I guess I'm thankful for that too! All this because of bacon. Apparently bacon is much more than just a delcious edible to me.

Do you have a "bacon"?

For Years I Wanted to be Older...

...and now I am. There have been small beacons over the last few years, signaling that my maturation is in full effect and inevitable. But the other day it hit me, hit me hard. With Good Housekeeping as my catalyst a Top 20 List quickly compiled itself in my head and thus, I give to you:


The Top 20 Things That Told Me, "You're Old!"


1) Gray Hair ~ At the age of 25, I was at work and there it was, shining in the ever-flattering fluorescent lights of the second floor bathroom, a silver, glistening thread, front and center. Unnoticeable to most but to me, it felt like I was wearing a headlamp. I plucked it immediately...then bought hair dye. And that's been my routine since, pluck, hair dye, repeat. I'm not ready to look seasoned.


2) Old Hands ~ I have pretty mannish hands to begin with thanks to my dad. My fingers aren't long and slender and my nails refuse to grow past the ends of my fingertips. They are a decent size and I pride myself with the fact that I can open jars without assistance. And while I would never be asked to hand model, my paws are starting to look less youthful and more like Sarah Jessica Parker's. From satin to leather...


3) The "What If" Facelift ~ Women do it all the time. You look in the mirror and tug, pull and pinch your face at varying angles and tensions thinking, "What if..." Realistically, most of us will never be getting a facelift nor do we really truly want one. But for a few seconds, it's nice to make my perma-frown disappear and pick up the jowls that seem to be inching their way ever-downward...along with various other body parts.


4) Weather Pains ~ Actually 2 things: I have a bad knee and only old people have bad knees. But back to my list, I blame increased pain in my knee on the weather. When autumn's initial cold front finally hit us this year, my knee seemed to ache more than usual and I said to myself, "It must be the weather." Oh my God. My dad says that. What the hell is happening? Walk it off...walk it off...


5) Hip Pop ~ I like to dance although recently it's been more in the living room with my kids or by myself in front of the mirror while doing my hair. Either way, I used to be able to shake it with some decency and still think I can most days. The only difference is that my hip often pops now. Yup, a sexy dance ain't so sexy when your hip is snapping. Aging: 1, Ego: 0.


6) Get Up Grunt ~ I remember being little and wondering why my mom and dad would grunt when they'd stand up after sitting or laying down for a period of time. And now that I am doing it, I still don't know why it is but throatily uttering, "Ugh" while rising from an afternoon nap on the couch seems to be where it's at.


7) Hangover and over and over ~ I remember the days in which a hangover would last, maybe 12 hours. It was nothing a big breakfast and lengthy nap wouldn't take care of and you were sure to be ready to battle your next bottle of Boone's Farm by the following nightfall. These days, the average hangover lasts 36-48 hours, no exception, just two days of complete hell-hole misery.


8) De-whoring Halloween ~ Gone are the days of the slutty Halloween costume. My friend and I used to head to Hot Topic every year and spend more money than we had purchasing truly whorifying costumes. The more pleather the better. Halloween was the best reason to wear fishnets and bare our midriffs, despite the 40 degree temperatures. Let me tell you about my last few Halloweens. Vampire, Cleopatra, geisha, zombie and last year I was nothing because I'd just given birth so I jokingly said I was a MILF. None of the aforementioned were the slutty versions. How do you create a slutty zombie?


9) So long Juniors/Misses ~ I think I probably tried to shop in the Misses and Juniors departments as long as I could and now I've finally reached the point where I can't even find anything in those departments I'd be willing to put on my body. Less fitted, more flowy. If I feel like showing off something, I'll belt the shirt. I've even migrated to the super-duper mature areas of certain stores to see if I can't land a nice cardigan.
    9 a) I have been known to wear a brooch on certain occasions during the winter months. Don't judge me.


10) Crafting ~ I frequent craft stores...and like it. I've purchased fake flowers, acrylic paints, fabric and even asked for a sewing machine for Christmas. Where I once would see homemade items and think, "Booorrrinng," I now thing, "Cute!" or "Good idea!" This leads me to #11...


11) Quilting ~ I am clutching to my youth by refusing to start quilting but everyday, I wish that I did. I'm repressing that part of  me but I know eventually it's going to usurp my youth and turn me into a denture-wearing hag surrounded by tiny threads left over from her most recent quilting bee.


12) Canning ~ This fall, I canned. I didn't just can a half dozen pickles. No no, I bought a bushel of tomatoes, a half bushel of peaches, 5 lbs. of cucumbers and beans, all to can for the first time. I jumped in with both feet. It was okay. :)


13) Lady Parties ~ I've started attending and even hosting all those lady parties you hear about in which various items are sold, candles, purses, jewelry, makeup, lotions, etc. Why don't they have these for guys? Why aren't guys getting together every week to sell each other hunting and fishing gear?


14) Holiday Dinners ~ I have also hosted my family's Thanksgiving dinners for the last two years. This was essentially the role that Mom has always played. Dinners were always at her house, always. That was tradition, we strayed once or twice when I was little but always went back to Mom's. There was a reason it was there, tradition. Tradition is now reaching at me with its long, Sarah Jessica Parker fingers and now Thanksgiving dinners at my house are being quilted into its blanket.


15) Car Shopping ~ I used to want a Jeep Wrangler. Now it's not even in my list of top five. Unless you have a third row, you're not even considered at this point. If you can't hold three carseats, a stroller and $300 worth of groceries, then I can't buy you. I can't even look at you. Kids, and age, have made me practical.


16) Those Young Bastard Drivers ~ Newly licensed teens piss me off. Even those invincible twenty-somethings make my blood boil. Travelling at reckless speeds, swerving in and out trying to thread traffic, thinking it isn't slippery after a hard rain, riding my ass because I prefer to exceed speed limits by 5-10 mph and not 20. Oh well, can't waste my time on the dim-witted. Why are they in such a hurry anyway (shoutout to my dad)?!


17) That Trashy Music ~ Below is this week's Billboard Top 10
       1) Someone Like You - Adele
       2) Moves Like Jagger - Maroon 5 feat. Christina Aguilera
       3) Pumped Up Kicks - Foster the People
       4) Sexy And I Know It - LMFAO
       5) Stereo Hearts - Gym Class Heroes feat. Adam Levine
       6) Party Rock Anthem - LMFAO
       7) We Found Love - Rihanna feat. Calvin Harris
       8) Without You - David Guetta feat. Usher
       9) You Make Me Feel... - Cobra Starship feat. Sabi
      10) You and I - Lady Gaga
I like three of these songs. Three of them. Not even half. I won't say which three because I don't want to start a debate but the point is, I can only tolerate 30% of what is played on the radio today! When those three songs aren't playing, the only thing I hear is my mother's voice resonating in my ear when I was younger, "How can you listen to this?" Seriously people, how can you listen to Rihanna this?


18) Child Athletes ~ While watching ESPN and their breaking news of an athlete signing a trillion dollar contract one day, I asked my husband how old the said athlete was. "24 or 25 I think," he replied. What the what?! Seriously! My husband and I watch a lot of sports and I often forget that the majority of the sports figures nowadays are all younger than me. Like, more than a few years younger.  I can no longer think some random football player's butt is cute because, he's basically a child for pete's sake! Ultimately I suppose I'll limit myself to viewing golf although, the U.S. Open winner this year was only 22 years old. Do they even televise the Senior tour?


19) Movie Remakes ~ This one may anger me the most because people are taking classic films from my generation and revamping them to appeal to another generation. Not cool Hollywood. Not. Cool. A few things: Ralph Macchio has always been and will always be The Karate Kid. Hell, he could still play that role now, the guy is ageless. Ren MacCormack is played by Kevin Bacon, not some random dude that a few girls in some focus group thought was cute. He's not by the way. And to even talk of a Dirty Dancing remake is blasphemous and profane. I'm verklempt.


20) Good Housekeeping ~ And this brings me to what spurred all of the above. I was checking out at the grocery store yesterday. Amongst the soda, candy, energy pills and popular rags that line the checkout aisle, I picked up Good Housekeeping. As early as the week before I would have picked up People, or US Weekly, or Star even. No. Something drew me towards Good Housekeeping. Maybe it was the autumn-inspired cover laced with pumpkins and fall-y treats. Maybe it was its list of fall decorating ideas and recipes. Maybe it was PMS. No matter, as Good Housekeeping sang to me its siren song, I realized, "This is it. This is the end. Old at 30." Then I paid for my hair dye and headed home.

Closets are for Clothes

In not working, it's difficult to get out of the house on a regular basis and be inspired, thus my lack of entries as of late. But given that today is National Coming Out Day, I feel obligated to write something I've been trying to write for some time now, but just haven't found the words to accurately express what I'm trying to express. Additionally, I feel unqualified to comment since my personal experience with the gay community has been limited. But I do have an opinion so what the hell.


In the past I have sat down with three gay people and asked (because this seems to be a big item of debate), "When did you realize you were gay?" I asked because since the beginning of debate, we seem to be stuck on this whole Nature vs. Nurture thing. Are you born gay or are do you become gay? Is it genetic or acquired? Is it contagious? Please. All three stated they knew they were "different" (their word, not mine) from a very young age. So after having some honest conversation with some gay people, I can't believe that being gay is something you become. Others disagree. Be that as it may, does it matter? If you are or you choose to be? Shouldn't you be respected either way? I think so ...
...and others disagree. Vicious cycle...


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The population in Northern Michigan while relatively small, really runs the gamut of political, social and civil opinions. I have seen both extremes and everything in between represented here and it is much more evident because we are a smaller community. I respect the difference of opinion but a few weeks ago, a friend shared a story with me that was really touching and poignant. So, I'll reshare in short and hopefully my friend won't mind.


My friend's sister came out a little while ago. As of a few weeks ago, most of her friends and family knew however her grandparents did not, her grandfather being described to me as a staunch conservative. There was some worry on how they would react and I can only assume it was kept from them as there was some level of fear on how they would react, if they would be hurt, disappointed, etc. At this point, I'm a little heartbroken because I can't imagine what it would be like, what it would feel like, to be something and fear that the ones who you love the most wouldn't support you in that or would be let down by you, whether it's for being gay, pursuing an unlikely career or making some unexpected decision. Your every hope would be that you'd have their unconditional backing, yes? Lack thereof wouldn't change anything, however, it would have to break you a little bit inside, I'm sure.


Anyway, my friend's sister finally came out to her grandparents and ... what do you know? They love their granddaughter. They support her and respect her and hold her just as dear as they ever did. How amazing! I was so happy for her, so happy for her grandparents and her whole family in general. To have the acceptance, love and support of those closest to her. Shouldn't everyone have that?


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I don't want to get into a big argument about it. Like I said, I respect the difference of opinion but will never respect hate and unfortunately, there's a lot of the latter. It makes me sad and confused. Why hate someone for being who they are. It's like hating tall people. I'm 5'4", should I hate tall people because they're different than me? Should I hate blondes because they are and I'm not? Should we hate at all? That's rhetorical people.
My pie-in-the-sky hope is that anyone who is living with the fear of not being able to openly be what they want to be has at least one person, one person in their life who will not judge, not devalue and not hate them when it seems like all of society does. Maybe that one person will give them enough strength to carry on and live their life the way it should be lived, full and happy.


I know that my little blog post isn't going to change anyone's opinion. I would think that maybe not hurting a fellow human being, physically or emotionally would take precedent over some political viewpoint though. And to most, that's all this is. Politics, or religion. And if your God promotes hate then...I don't very much like your God.


Someone once wrote to Abigail Van Buren, better known as "Dear Abby," complaining that a gay couple had recently moved in across the street and they wanted to know what they could do to improve the quality of the neighborhood. Abby simply replied, "You could move."


 http://www.itgetsbetter.org/

Go Team!

What is it about a game, a sport that turns adults into children again? Countless times, I have watched my adult husband who rarely gets visibly excited about anything (I think I got a "that's cool" when I told him we were going to spend a week in Cabo for our honeymoon), turn giddy with excitement at a play that gets made by one of his favorite sports teams. His voice gets all high, he will clap really loud, say "Yeah heah heah!!" and look for someone to high five (usually me or our 3 year old). There isn't anything else that does this to him. My husband isn't fond of strangers but I've seen him hug a few at a Tigers game that went into extra innings and was ultimately won by our beloved kitties after a Granderson walk-off (Grandy, we miss you). And I don't want to pigeon-hole these reactions to professional or college sports. We were at our niece's soccer game and she had the ball, dribbling it down the field towards the goal as fast as her little 8 year old legs could carry her. I watched my husband and our niece's grandpa jump up and down from one end of the field to the other screaming "GOOOOO! GOOOOO!" and when she made the goal, my husband and her grandpa threw their arms in the air and then I think they may have even made out.


And these emotions aren't limited to the real world. Have you ever found yourself cheering for the Dillon Panthers (later the East Dillon Lions) while watching Friday Night Lights? Who wasn't cheering for the T.C. Williams Titans, even though they were coached by Denzel Washington? The same goes for the West Canaan Coyotes and their conflicted leader, James Van Der Beek. And if you didn't cry when Kevin Costner pitched a perfect game for the Tigers then you have no soul. I mean, you even find yourself pulling for Charlie Sheen in Major League. Winning! What is it - that primal, internal force that makes us metamorphose into silly, impulsive kids. There's something about sports that just leaves us stupefied.


And why not? We all have some sort of competitive nature inside of us, whether it's on a sports field or within ourselves - we all strive to be the best at something. Sports just overtly illustrates that drive to compete and desire to win and succeed. Is there anyone out there who wants to lose, whether it's at a football game or Monopoly? No, the object is to win. Either for money, status or a sense of pride, none of us want to be stamped as "The Loser."


Who's your team? Your team. You have a team right? While it may be owned by some random b/millionaire, their purpose, their dignity, their history is yours. You call them "my Yankees" or "my Tigers." You identify with them. They represent you and your fellow fans. What are the Detroit Lions? Some would say that historically speaking, one of the worst teams in football - one of the sorriest - the only team to go 0-16 in one season - a team that wasted several draft opportunities on a series of defunct wide receivers. But to the Lions faithful, they represent Detroit (the city), Michigan (the state), blue-collar, a will-rise-again attitude. And more recently, if the Lions can claw their way back to prosperity, so can we. Lions fans take "pride" in their team. I'm willing to bet that there are some who have stuck with their Lions longer than with their spouses, for better or for worse. And the same goes around the country and across all leagues. A Steeler fan carries the same bag of emotions for their team...so does the Cubs fan (poor cubbies), so does the Yank...You even do it as a country. My husband and I were jumping up and down screaming "Go!!" during the Men's 4 X 100 Freestyle Relay in the 2008 Beijing Olympics, witnessing Jason Lezak and Team U.S.A.'s comeback against France to take gold - and we're not swimfans (terrible movie by the way). In fact, that may have been the first swimming race we ever witnessed and the only one since. But they were "our team," we are U.S.A. I've never felt so patriotic. I just teared up watching it on YouTube. If you have that relationship with your team, consider them an extension of you - if they win, you win. And if you win, you celebrate. "Yeah heah heah!" High five anyone?


Lastly, sports is pure. It is apolitical, although some try to defy that. It isn't religious although some claim it as their religion and it has no lingering effects outside of the occasional broken heart which gets snuffed out by the hope of the next game. The dips and dives of the emotions you feel during a game are genuine, like a child's. No filter, no inhibitions...24 karat emotions.


So while you may not watch sports regularly or consider yourself a fan, don't say your heart doesn't pound a little harder and that you don't get goosebumps when Rocky Balboa downs Ivan Drago in the final minutes of Rocky IV. Hell, even the Russians were cheering for him.

Extreme Makeover: Job Interview Edition

This may sound like a starving person critiquing cuisine but the content of job interviews has become so generic, so cliche and predictable, I might go crazy if another potential employer asks me what my greatest weakness is. As a result of my increasing frustration with job interviews and how they are conducted I have compiled the Top 5 Job Interview Questions That Should Be Banned From All Future Job Interviews and what they should be replaced with:


Top 5 Job Interview Questions That Should Be Banned From All Future Job Interviews


1) Tell me about yourself: "Well, I am [insert any self-flattering adjective that is a derivative of whatever self-flattering adjective the applicant before you has used (I like, "quick-learner")] who is motivated (keyword) by setting and achieving goals for myself." Smile, blink, continue your self-promoting rant by briefly describing your former position, your greatest achievement (which for me was just being one of the last ones standing at the company) and make an enthusiastic declaration of how ready you are to hit the ground running in your new venture. Basically, applicant after applicant is just vomiting thesaurus words at the interviewer(s). This question is way too open-ended and leaves the interviewer(s) subject to the same BS response, over and over and over and...
Instead, this question should be replaced by If you could be any hat, what would you be and why? This will get you a load of completely different responses, guaranteed to tell you a lot about your applicant, especially how they think on their feet because you know, you know, they did not study for this. And since we're on the subject, I would be a Michigan football helmet. This because I am an avid Michigan football fan, protective, love tradition and would very much like to have wings.


2) Why should we hire you? This is really just another version of #1. Again, very open-ended and subject to monotonous responses which may or may not include such words as "team-player", "highly-organized", and "positive." Alternative? Rate yourself from 1-10, 1 being Derelict, 10 being superhero.  This is good because it's an open-ended question but there are a limited number of answers. And having to explain why you're a 7 and not an 8 or a 6 would be tricky. You can always end it with..."but my kids think I'm a 10." Consider their heart strings plucked.


3) Tell us about your last position? Um...it's on my resume. It's right there, bulleted and everything. Have a look. See? Not joking. It's all there but if you need dictation, fine. In one interview, the interviewer asked me how one goes from working at a canoe livery for 10 years to being an Airline Analyst. "Wait, are you judging me?" Actually yes. Well...that's really all there is in this area for those with a generic degree from a public university - tourism and customer service. In lieu, they should ask How often do you get a 'case of the Mondays'? This will show you they have seen and appreciate Office Space and you can cleverly respond, "Weekly."


4) What is your greatest weakness? Bah! This one gets me every time. Seriously? Here, let me disguise one of my strengths as a weakness and then explain how I'm aware that it can be a problem (which it's not because it's actually a strength) and that I do my best not to let it affect those around me (which I don't because it's a strength). No one, NO ONE answers this honestly. No one says, "Well Mr. Smith, cupcakes. Cupcakes are my greatest weakness. I could eat the shit out of like, a dozen cupcakes right now. Actually, do you happen to have any cupcakes? Just cake maybe?" or "Mr. Jones, I do have an anger issue. In fact, when you run that background check you'll see I have multiple offenses for domestic violence but I'm taking classes..." In sum, you're not going to get an honest answer and chances are you don't want to hear an honest answer so let's instead use What is your least favorite interview question? I have to pick just one?


5) Where do you see yourself in 5 years? This is one of those trick questions. If you shoot for the stars, they may think you're pretentious, overly ambitious, unrealistic and even...a threat. Contrastly, if you aim too low, then you lack determination and enthusiasm. If you stay vague then you can't set goals. Instead, I want the interviewer(s) to reach in their desk and pull out one of those magic 8 balls and ask it if they should hire me. Let the answer be what it may. Note: Magic 8 balls have 20 possible answers, 10 are positive, 5 are non-committal and 5 are negative so your chances of getting an affirmative or even hazy response are good. If you happen to get "Outlook not so good" maybe suggest, best 2 out of 3?

Daughter, Meet World.

Tomorrow morning my 3 year old, Kasen, has her first dance class. The class is called Creative Movement. I've done some creative movement in my day without the help of a class you have to pay for but I'm sure her experience will be much more informative. That's neither here nor there. This is going to be her first social experience. She hasn't ever attended a daycare and has not started any type of preschool or head start program. As a result, this is going to be a completely new experience for her on a couple of levels. Not only is she going to begin learning how to move creatively, she is going to dive into a social pool. For some kids this is pool is very deep and dangerous and they end up drowning.


I am so nervous for her because I don't know what is in store for her socially. Dance? She'll probably master. Interaction with others? I'm not so sure. It isn't that I think she will be a social outcast or that I don't have the confidence in her to make friends. You just never know how well a person, a child no less, is going to react and adjust to the social world. I wouldn't describe Kasen as an extrovert. She's careful, not entirely unreserved and conscious. I like that she is these things but sometimes, kids don't. Kids are the worst judges. They haven't fully tapped into their conscience or the art of bullshitting so they're oblivious and their thoughts and opinions are pure and sometimes unforgiving. If she becomes familiar with you she can cut loose but kids aren't always given the chance to reach that comfort zone before others have already made up their minds about whether to befriend you or not. What if they don't like her? What if they think she's too tall? Or her leotard isn't as cool as theirs? I, as her parent, can't think of a reason why anyone could not like her but as stated, I'm her mom; my kid is cooler than your kid (and if you're a parent and don't think this same thing about your child then something is wrong with you). I just -- I want her to be happy. I want her to love it and be so happy. Anything less and I feel like I've failed, like I've thrown her in the deep end of the pool with no life vest...or swim lessons. Not even little arm floatie things.


I can't help but think of how many more instances are going to come along where I have this same feeling. Nervous, scared and hopeful for her. The wish to make sure she never has her feelings hurt or gets let down.
I can already envision myself the night before her first day of school --Please make a friend, just one friend - and don't pee your pants like I did on my first day of Kindergarten because I was too shy to ask where the bathroom is. --
What if she doesn't make a team? Or makes the team but rides pine? What if the boy she likes tells her no? Or worse yet, says he'd rather date her younger sister? (Shit, that's a whole other entry.) What if she gets bullied - God, what if she gets bullied? To hell with dance, karate lessons!


I realize that a lot of this worry is based on my own social insecurities. I can be VERY awkward when I'm thrown into a new social setting. My nerves explode, palms sweat, I say um a lot, and fumble my words while unknowingly talking really fast because I just want to get the hell out. Unless I'm drinking. Then it's all good. But sometimes being drunk isn't favored, like during your first Creative Movement class at the age of 3.


I know I can't protect her from all the bad. I know there are going to be days when she comes home and says, "Mom? So-and-so said she doesn't like me." And my heart will shatter. And I'll want to say, "That bitch!" but I won't. I'll have to teach her just to be friendly anyways and disregard the negativity. To still love despite the hate - such a hard lesson to teach and to live.


All this because my 3 year old starts dance class tomorrow. Imagine the mess I'll be when she starts college.

Video Game Ads: The Deception of a Housewife

I was just sitting here, enjoying my day off (ha! I'm unemployed), milling about the house, doing laundry...housewife things. Suddenly, my ears piqued at the sound of a song playing on TV. "What song is this? Who sings it? What's it advertising?" Another fucking video game. This has now happened to me too many times. I am not knocking video games or the gamers who play them but, I have had it up-to-here with the random mismatch of video game advertising and their song usage.

Advertising interests me and I've been turned on to many an artist by the use of their songs in commercials (i.e. Band of Horses, Sean Hayes, Amos Lee, etc.) But, someone tell me how Mazzy Star's Into Dust, can coincide with Gears of War: 3. I realize, on some deeper level, Mazzy Star's melancholic lyrics and slow, sweeping melody contrasts with the violent nature of futuristic alien battles yet both compliment each other with their tragic natures. I get it. Deep. And I can appreciate deep but - COME ON! I get so pissed when I see a song I like have Mortal Grand Theft Evil: Black Ops IV, Halo Edition as a backdrop. I associate good ad music with a creative and entertaining commercial and when it's not that, it's a frickin' video game? Kind of a kick in the crotch. Sia's Breathe Me doesn't belong in Prince of Persia, it belongs on the series finale of Six Feet Under. Did Bill Withers write Ain't No Sunshine to promote Dante's Inferno (the 2010 video game, not the first part of Alighieri's classic poem, Divine Comedy, which sadly, when Googled, comes up second (!!!) to the 2010 video game) or did he write it after being inspired by a 1962 Jack Lemmon movie? Hint: It's the latter.

I guess I have to hand it to them - those ad execs who are probably younger than I am - when I hear their ad tracks playing, I look up to see what's being sold to me and maybe that's the master plan. Can't say I wouldn't use it myself if I were a marketing genius. But I'm not. I'm just a stay-at-home mom with a lot of time on her hands who thinks some decent music is being misused. 

Poles apart, I want to thank Saints Row 2 for using the late Easy E's Real Mothaphukkin G's for their ad spot. 

Pregnancy Blogs

During both of my pregnancies I maintained pregnancy blogs to track and share the experiences I had with both. Their links are listed below in case you have an hour to kill.


Baby 1 (Kasen):
http://www.babycrowd.com/jr/online/gobluemommy/


Baby 2 (Eden):
http://www.babycrowd.com/jr/online/gobluemommy2/

Never Forget

-- I wrote this on September 9, 2011 - two days before the 10th Anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. I liked it enough to post here albeit, a few days late. --

I was a Junior in college at the University of Michigan. I was living in a house with five other girls at 917 State St. in Ann Arbor. Classes had just started the week before - it was Tuesday and my housemate (Dayna) and I had our first class that day at 10am, a Communications lecture. We learned early Freshman year not to schedule a class before 10am...noon if you can help it. We also tried to avoid Mondays and Fridays.

It was close to 9:00-ish am and naturally, I was still sleeping. Our house sat about 10 feet away from our neighbors' house and my bedroom window faced one of my neighbor's (Matt) bedroom windows. We would often talk through our windows as it was easier than by phone or walking 10 feet to the other's house. If it were warm enough outside, I would often keep my window open, blinds drawn to keep Matt from seeing me in my skivvies. So I'm sleeping...and I hear, "Aubrey! Aubrey, wake up! Aubrey, you need to wake up and turn on your TV!" I sluggishly come to and realize it's Matt yelling at me, via window. I opened my blinds and said, "What's going on?!" He said, "You need to turn on your TV, just turn it on!" He wouldn't tell me what was going on. I knew something outrageous must be happening if he was waking me, of all people, up at 9:00am and I knew he was serious about whatever it was. I secretly thanked myself for at least sleeping in a T-shirt as I realized Matt probably just saw me in my underwear. Later I realized, he probably couldn't have cared less about my underwear at the time. So I turned on the television in my bedroom. 

NBC was my news channel of choice then. Smoke was billowing out of one of the World Trade Center buildings. I was kind of confused and shocked and ... tired. "How'd that happen, why is it on fire? ....Oh, a plane flew into it? How could that have happened? Matt, what's going on?!" I then thought of my roommates, specifically the ones who were from the NY/NJ area. "They might have family or friends working in the city, I should wake them up." I woke Dayna up and she moves about as fast as I do after death sleeping, which is what we did back then. I think she called a few people and thankfully everyone was okay. We sat on the edge of my bed, in my room and watched, and watched, and watched...as a second airplane flew in from the side of the screen and I remember saying, "There's another plane!" Duh. "It's going to hit it. Oh my God, it's going to it!" And then it did. Dayna and I had just watched dozens of people get killed on live television.

---

Immediately, it became certain that these were deliberate attacks and fear set in. My first thought took me back to a conversation I had with my mom when I was...16? 

"Mom, all the 'big' stuff happened when you were younger. You had Vietnam, Civil Rights Movement, Kennedy Assassination...nothing 'big' is ever going to happen for my generation. It's so boring." 

I called my mom after the second plane hit and stupidly asked her if she knew what was going on. "Yes," she said. And then she referenced that old conversation...

"Remember when you asked me why nothing 'big' ever happens?" I shamefully hung my head. This was our "big". Since, I've regretted saying anything like that. I guess I didn't know how great it was to be so boring. 

---

Reports and news and accounts of the tragedy and turmoil that was going on in our forever-changed world flooded in as Dayna and I both decided not to shower and head to class. Remember this was before Facebook and other social media. My cell phone, which I had just gotten that fall, still had a pea-green screen. For some reason, we were continuing on with life as usual even though it was as if the world had stopped. While walking to class, there was a mass exodus of students walking away from campus and we had overheard all classes had been cancelled for that day. There's something inside of you that elates when you hear, "Classes have been cancelled," despite the reason. Dayna and I exchanged jubilous outbursts which were snuffed out quickly by another student who verbally lashed us for being happy about cancelled classes. "Hundreds of people are dying! Don't you know?!" She was very upset at the circumstances that had led to the cancelled classes whereas Dayna and I hadn't considered the reasons, even though we knew them fully well. The student kept walking and Dayna and I just turned around to schlep back to the house, half-embarrassed, half-still excited about not having to go to class that day. 

That's where my "Where Were You?" memory ends. Not all that poignant of a story but I remember every minute like it was yesterday, not 10 years ago. Ask me about anything else that happened 10 years ago and I will probably relay a fuzzy recollection with a bit of bullshit filler for the details I can't recall. 

The fact that it's been 10 years hasn't changed much. It hasn't made it any less fresh. People still question how it happened, it was an inside job, it wasn't Bin Laden, Santa Claus did it, etc. None of the conspiracy theorists unfortunately can't say that it didn't happen. Whether it was a terrorist attack or the Man in the Moon, it happened and over 3,000 people were murdered that day - their families' and friends' lives changed forever in the most horrible of fashions.

It pisses me off a little bit that it takes something like this to unify people. It takes a tragedy to realize that we all have a commonality, being human and being alive...and are mortal. I'm not sure it's worth it. 

The fingers of the 9/11 devastation have reached into political, religious, and conspiracy theorist arenas. Its effects have trickled into nearly every aspect of our infrastructure, how we travel, our security, what to put in our suitcases. I've heard people damn 9/11 because it's made them late for flights due to heightened, lengthy security measures. I damn 9/11 because it took innocent lives. And suddenly I've become that random student, rebuking Dayna and me on our way to class that day. "Don't you know people have died?"

In the end, it's not political, it's not a conspiracy, it's not "a sign". It's tragic. And we'll never forget, as if we could anyway. 

Please Don't Stop the Music

If you don't love or aren't passionate about music or at least respect it, then you won't appreciate the remainder of the words written here, so you can stop reading now. It's kind of just my rambling anyway so if you have other things to do, do them. Only if you have 5-7 minutes to absolutely waste without consequence should you continue.

Now that I've self-deprecated myself down to around three readers I'll begin: 

I started thinking about music and the impact it has had on me when I noticed my 10 month old dancing to some stupid toy we have that plays a horrendous version of Baa Baa Black Sheep. I thought, my 10 month old is dancing. She can't walk, she can't talk, she can't feed herself (unfortunately) or use the toilet (double-unfortunately) yet, she's dancing. What is making her do that!? Music. Already, music is seeping into her body, her bones and making her move for reasons she doesn't know why. As adults we do it too. Tapping our feet without realizing when our ears receive a catchy beat. Chair-dancing or butt-dancing - moving to the groove while seated, usually in a car. This is my fave as it requires a lot of shoulder, arms, head and neck action.

So naturally, by free-association I ended up thinking about when I first, FIRST remember music and falling in love with it. When I was five, Santa brought me a full-size upright piano. Imagine lugging that around in the sleigh all night. Hopefully we were an early stop. He wrapped that son-of-a-bitch and everything! I remember looking at it with surprise and some curiosity at the time. I had not known a thing about the massive instrument I'd spend the rest of my life loving. My parents...and Santa, took a huge leap of faith with the hope that I'd say yes to piano lessons. I did. Phew! Are pianos even returnable? 

"This is Middle C." That was my first note. The rest was just alphabet and math. Strip it down and that's what music is. And so then and there I made 88 new friends. $5/week for 13 years, my teacher, Mrs. Marshall, saturated me with her music genius and wouldn't let me "advance" until I'd perfected the prior week's lesson which usually included, a scale or two and a couple of songs. I mastered sight-reading and hated recitals. Above all else, I learned the back-end of music - it wasn't just something I listened to anymore.

I love it - all of it. Melodies, harmonies, rhythms, lyrics, chords, scores, how it looks on paper. I think it all rocks - pun. Aside from playing and performing music both via piano and band (concert, jazz and marching (yup, total nerd in da house!!)), I began to appreciate music and broaden my definition of what was "good." 

Like certain scents, a song can take you back to a specific moment in time with just one note. For some reason my best friend and I got our hands on a couple of Red Hot Chili Peppers, Blood Sugar Sex Magik tapes when we were 10 years old. We'd walk around town with our Walkmans playing the same song at the same time - Apache Rose Peacock. Why that song I'll never know, and while it had a meaning a 10 year old shouldn't know, I loved it. And I still love it to this day; I know every word. So when you hear an RHCP song, I don't know where it takes you, but I think about walking around town with my best friend being happy and thinking we were cool. The next year I ordered my first CDs from one of those mail music clubs that used to but no longer exist. Bryan Adams (thanks to Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves and my crush on Kevin Costner which I still have to this day) and Tori Amos, Little Earthquakes. 

"Oh. My. God...Becky..." Yup, I'm at The Hut - a local tween/teen "club", now closed, that we used to go to from about age 12.  Easily, the most-played song on that jukebox, later to be replaced by I'm Too Sexy.  "Poor pussy..." 

Junior High - angsty pre-teen in-betweenness. Who am I? No one understands, especially my parents. "WITH THE LIGHTS OUT...IT'S LESS DANGEROUS!!!" "What's a mulatto? ...  OOOooohh." I also became a tiny bit infatuated with album covers thanks to Nevermind. "Did they really put that naked baby underwater?" I would also become very upset when the CD booklets didn't contain the lyrics. Let's face it, Eddie Vedder doesn't enunciate 100% of the time but that doesn't lessen my love for Pearl Jam. To this day, I still have every single CD booklet/cover I've ever had despite my husband's recurring inquiry as to what the hell I'm going to do with them. "I don't know...I just don't want to get rid of them." Maybe, someday, the cover for the Blues Traveler four CD, will be worth a couple bucks. Maybe not, but if so? Aubrey: 1, World: 0

Dave. Matthews of course. Although I enjoy other Daves - Letterman, Grohl, Gray....Hasselhoff. Dave Matthews is my favorite by miles. The summer when I was 16 I purchased Crash. Mmmm, Dave...being 16, summer. Before Dave, I loved harmonies. After Dave, crazy loved harmonies. I would better some of the more mediocre shit on the radio by adding harmonies to them in my head and still do. 

College. Yeesh. Day 1 - move in day. I realized I wasn't in Benzie County anymore when my yet-to-be-met dorm neighbor was blaring...BLARING...O Fortuna from Carmina Burana. It was then followed by Con Te Partiro as performed by Andrea Bocelli. And that opened a tiny, little, undiscovered doorway to Opera. La Traviata is amazing. Check it out. 

College. Yeesh. Day 2 - The roommate of dorm neighbor blared...BLARED Scarlet's Independent Love Song. Utter ridiculousness and I found that a song does not need to be good to be appreciated and totally awesome. The primest of prime examples is Biz Markie's You Got What I Need.  I mean, when the man interrupts himself just to get through the chorus, you've crossed a line into greatness. Did you know that Snow by Informer has actual lyrics? Like, English ones? No one knew that, except for the "A licky boom boom down..." part.

Lyrics. In college, my housemate and I would joke, "If only we could remember what we're studying as well as we can remember song lyrics, we'd be acing this shit." Maybe if we had set our studies to the tune of Jump Around by House of Pain we would have retained more. Alas, we didn't but still both left with 4-year degrees. 

I went to visit my friend where she went to college once. She was going to set me up with some dude who was a friend of the dude she was seeing or something. Ben Harper, Live From Mars (disc 2) was on - clearly his hook-up CD. Unfortunately we hated each other and got along about as well as a couple of politicians so while it wasn't written in the stars for us, I'm thankful he turned me on to Ben Harper. Power of the Gospel  makes me cry. Every time. 

Speaking of hook-up CDs, one of my good friends from college and I were always striving to make the perfect hook-up soundtrack or a CD of the most depressing songs we could find because being single was the worst feeling in the world. Instead we always ended up putting something ludicrous on it like the theme from Three's Company, so they never really got used. We weren't as depressed as we thought. 

And speaking of soundtracks, I intently listen to background and soundtrack music now (thanks to Pulp Fiction, one of the best soundtracks of all time*). Most of the time, it's just there to create a mood or drama but sometimes this music is much better than it gets credit for. A movie without a soundtrack, not the same. It's less evocative.  [*also Garden State, Dazed and Confused, Almost Famous and any 80's movie starring John Cusack].

Elvis Presley's Can't Help Falling in Love (not the UB40's version) will always be associated with my wedding day, how perfect it was. Elvis' voice, with the lyrics and melody. Simple and perfect. I was also 15 pounds lighter, that's nice to think about too. The first time my husband Kyle and I met, he was standing next to a jukebox. Fairly significant, my two true loves. Any George Strait or Blink 182 will make me think of Kyle. So will Party Like a Rockstar because he likes the song although he doesn't party like a rockstar all that often and he isn't fond of strip bars, but maybe that's because the ones where we live leave something to be desired. Sometimes I'll find an old CD of Kyle's that he made in high school or college and I get pleasantly surprised when Total Eclipse of the Heart starts playing. Dude's got a soft spot.

In the end, I still have the piano. It sits in my house now and my two daughters play on it or listen to me play. It's 25 years old and needs to be tuned, but my thought is that everyone needs a good tuning every quarter of a century or so anyway. But it still works and has all its parts. I hope it does for them what it's done for me. 

Welcome to The Bandwagon

First post...lots of pressure.


I have decided to start a blog because I found myself posting Notes on Facebook with more frequency. My Notes posts are usually followed by incessant chirping from loved ones, insistent that I write a book. Write a book about what? No one knows. Plus, I think you need an agent or something to get a project like that off the ground and that's not a cliff I'm ready to jump off of yet.


I write because I'm usually thinking about something over the course of a few days and finally decide to share it in an attempt to ignite some sort of conversation. "Do people agree with me or am I completely off-base when I can't find one iota of talent in Taylor Swift?" sort-of-thing. I try to work humor in when I can but sometimes I end up crying by the end of a post.


I try to stay apolitical because it's so divisive these days but most would say I'm more left than right. I am spiritual and believe in God but there's no Bible on my nightstand. For me, religion is more private; I'd never throw Jesus at you. I am open to others' opinions and in fact, welcome them. I never think mine is the end all-be all. Respect is crucial. I have been known to use four-letter words on occasion. I apologize in advance if it offends you but to me they are just words and can really make something hit home when used in the right way. And sometimes, swearing just makes you feel better.


Things you might see while riding The Bandwagon:
Live-blogging - During televised programs like award shows and sporting events.
Nostalgia - Usually occurs around holidays and family get-togethers.
Perspective - My take on major events in and around the world, i.e. 9/11, natural disasters, etc.
Social - Variety of social topics that may have recently hit home with me and usually pissed me off.
Random - Miscellaneous subject matter that will typically result in extensive free-association.


-- Welcome to The Bandwagon. --