I Don’t Do Memes

I am, as my blog friend, Bud describes me, a memophobe. I used to faithfully participate in every meme that came my way. I don’t know why I suddenly quit playing along with all the memes. Maybe life got too busy. It could be that all the memes started to feel the same. Describe X number of things about yourself. Tag X number of blogs. Leave a comment on each blog letting the author know he or she has been tagged. Maybe I’m a rebel who refuses to conform to the traditions of the blog world and it’s just easier not to participate than to follow all of those rules.

More likely though? I’m just lazy. Yes, I’m pretty sure laziness is the reason I don’t do memes. Memes require some effort!

Recently, Bud, who is a talented writer and writes the blog, Older Eyes tagged me in one of these dreaded memes. (It’s not the first time!) This particular meme came with an award, The Versatile Blogger award! As I always do when tagged in a meme, I left a comment graciously (sort of) thanking Bud for his kind recognition and promising (weakly) to participate, knowing full well that chances were approximately 99.9% that I would once again fail to do my part in keeping a meme viral .

I think a major part of my memophobia has something to do with having to follow a specific set of rules. I’m not generally opposed to rules. Rules are good. They help maintain a sense of order in this world. But when I write, the words tend to come spontaneously. Rules tend to get in my way when I write. Memes have rules. So I don’t do memes.

For instance, The Versatile Blogger meme states that I have to “thank the blogger who gave the award and link to their blog”. So, if I were going to participate in this meme… which I’m not… but if I were, I would have to say something like:

Dear Bud, Thank you for the wonderful blog award. I’ve always wanted a Versatile Blogger award to place on my virtual mantel! This one is just the right color and the perfect size!

And after the thank you, I would have to comply with another rule that states, “Share seven things about yourself.”

Seven things is a lot of things to come up with when you’ve been writing a blog for four years. I don’t know that I could find seven things of interest to share with you guys that you don’t already know. If I were going to participate… which I’m not…  but if I were, I would tell you some things such as:

(1) I really cannot stand reality television. And this is a problem because my husband has to watch every reality show known to cable t.v. In recent years, I have been subjected to reality crab fishing, reality car repossession, reality parking enforcement, reality pawn shops, and most recently, reality taxidermy! Really? Taxidermy? Can we stop now?

(2) I drank Goldschlager for the first time this weekend (two shots of it!) and I loved it! 

(3) I was a cute little kid:

(4) There are few foods that I refuse to eat, but there are many foods I have yet to try. I just tried Thai food for the first time and loved it. Sushi is something I’ve been wanting to try but have yet to take the leap.

(5) I LOVE to bowl. (I know. SHOCKER! You’ve never heard that before!) One thing bowling has taught me is patience. Improvement in the game of bowling comes very, very slowly, but when it does, it is highly rewarding!

(6) I discovered this weekend, with my children all away, that as much as I’m dreading the empty nest, it might actually have its perks. Running on your own schedule, going out to eat spur of the moment, and spending an entire afternoon gardening at your own leisure is sort of fun!

(7) I will have the privilege of meeting one of my long-time blogger friends very soon. De-I and I connected through our experiences as kidney donors three years ago and have remained friends ever since. He is extremely creative and skilled in the kitchen and I often comment on his food posts that if we were ever to meet, I would expect him to cook up one of his famous creations for me. Well guess what? He’s going to be in my area and has asked if he and his lovely wife can come have dinner with Mark and me. And he will be doing the cooking! Can’t wait!

After listing X number of facts about yourself, a meme will probably include another requirement such as, the one stated in The Versatile Blogger meme. “Pass the award along to 15 bloggers and link to them.”

So, if I were going to participate in this meme… which I’m not… but if I were, I would tag a small sampling of all the wonderful writers I read on a regular basis, such as:

And after the tagging requirement, you might still not be finished! The Versatile Blogger meme says that after tagging 15 blogs, you should “Comment on the tagged blogs to notify the author of the award.”

If I were going to participate in this meme… which I’m not… but if I were, I would probably be too lazy to complete this part of the requirement. Besides, most blog platforms offer some type of notification to let the author know that another blogger has linked to their blog. And then the author would probably come to investigate the reason for the link, in which case they would find a post such as this one which explains it all.

And if I were going to participate… which I’m not… but if I were, I would tell the awardees that they should feel free to participate if they like, or feel free to accept the award I have just bestowed upon them and do nothing more. Because participating in a meme like this one is a lot of work. And that is why I am not participating. Thanks anyway, Bud!

Things are Better

Things are better today.

Oh, if I could only write in detail about things which I shouldn’t write in detail here and on which I have probably already said too much. So I won’t say anymore. But if I could, I would write about one large posteriored person who seemed hell-bent on making me crazy for a while there, but has now shifted her energies toward another person who is much less of a spineless jellyfish than am I. (GO, Other Person!) Oooh, this is gonna get good! And large posteriored person is going to be the source of her own demise if she’s not careful. And I shall sit back and just go with the flow and my life will be minus one source of major stress!

That was rather thinly disguised, wasn’t it? Oh well… Moving on.

I find things at home are a bit easier too when I stop to write a to-do list for one 20 year-old who seems at a loss as to how to contribute to the general well-being of the household. And when I come home from work and he’s only half-way done with the two tasks I asked him to complete because Dad has had him “working like a dog with a separate list of chores,” (which is a sketchy excuse at best since Dad worked overnight, slept a few hours, then went back to work again) I just need to call bullsh*t smile and say, “Okay. Just don’t leave the house until you’re done with what I asked you to do.”

Why didn’t I think of that on Saturday? Oh yeah. Because I was too busy being disgusted and furious and even more disgusted about the RubberMaid water bottle I found in his bedroom which had god-knows-how-old chocolate milk in it. Or what used to be chocolate milk. 32 ounces of it. Rotted and separated. Bottle ruined. Straight to the trash barrel while I ranted and raved like a lunatic and told him he might want to think about moving out.

Proud parenting moment right there.

Good god, I just admitted the rotten container of chocolate milk story to the internet. Please tell me your kids have done disgusting, stupid things too!

And yes, I know he could be doing much worse things than being lazy and slovenly. Like drinking and drugs. I knew it at the time too. Still didn’t make me feel better.

And OBL is dead. Does anyone feel victorious about that? I think it’s unsettling at best. In a macabre sort of way, I’d love to celebrate his demise, but I can’t help but think that it’s not the end. Not by a long shot. He has followers and his mission will carry on.  Scary. But he is dead. It’s a small victory.

Yeah. Things are better today.

Hats and Weddings

I used to have an alarm clock that gave me nine minutes between snoozes. The one I have now only gives me five. It’s hardly worth it. Just when I get all cozy and sleepy again, the alarm drags me from my slumber again. Why can’t they make one that gives 20 minutes between snoozes? I wonder if then I’d set my alarm to go off two hours ahead of the actual time I need to get up? Why do we play these psychological morning games with ourselves?

I did eventually and reluctantly drag myself from the bed. As I was getting ready for work, I remembered the Royal Wedding was being broadcast. I hadn’t planned to watch, but I got caught up in it for a few minutes. It was nice to just forget all the crap in the world for a few minutes and watch the wedding, pretending a real-life fairy tale is actually possible. What a beautiful couple.

Speaking of the royal wedding, what is with the hats?

Royal Wedding Crazy Hats

I think those grapes on top of Beatrice’s hat are about to go bad! Beatrice, do NOT eat them! Eugenie, I think the hat is actually supposed to sit on TOP of your head. Just sayin’.

I shouldn’t poke fun. It’s just that we don’t wear hats here, unless you’re talking baseball hats. I don’t wear hats at all. Not even when it’s eleventy hundred below zero degrees outside. Might ruin my hair.

Now who’s the crazy one?

I did actually wear a hat on my wedding day which was 23 years ago tomorrow. That was a pretty good hat, if I do say so myself. Haven’t had much need to wear it since. Not too many occasions call for a white hat and veil.

Anyway, we’re going out to eat tonight to celebrate. And I got him a gift. A good one. Not as good as the Nook he got me on Valentine’s Day, but he’ll like it.

That’s all. Randomness. Happy Friday!


I had a meeting at work this afternoon. I was sitting in front of the keyboard and mouse so that I could run the presentation. Bob came and sat on my left. Brian sat on Bob’s left.

As we waited for the rest of the group to arrive, Brian leaned forward, looking past Bob to me. “It’s Bob’s anniversary today,” he informed me.

“Happy Anniversary, Bob,” I said.

Brian continued to speak over Bob to me, asking “What was the first thing you thought of when I said the word ‘anniversary’?”

“Marriage,” I said, wondering if this was a game.

“I was thinking ‘presents’,” Bob said.

“Okay,” I said. “So what would be a good anniversary present?”

“Cake,” Bob stated. He actually looked rather forlorn as he said this as if no one had bothered to recognize his anniversary with the cake he so desired.

Have you ever been party to a conversation and you have no idea why or what the real point is?

Brian continued to talk to me. “I want some cake,” Bob said.

“I brought some cookies in today,” I offered to Bob. “We’re celebrating St. Patrick’s Day with goodies down on fifth floor. You’re welcome to have some cookies.”

“Thanks,” Bob said. “But I really want some cake.”

I was going to tell Bob that he should talk to our coworker, Denise because whenever we want cake, we tell Denise to tell her husband, and he then makes us a delicious cake and sends it to work with Denise the next day. (It’s true. I requested a carrot cake once and the next day, there it was.)

Anyway, I didn’t get to tell Bob about our own personal cake maker because the last of the meeting participants joined us and that was the end of the conversation because we had to get down to business.

Only after the meeting, did it occur to me to wonder what the heck that was all about. I really have no idea.

Do you think I should bring Bob a cake?


Apropos of Nothing

I love summer. No. I mean, I. REALLY. LOVE. SUMMER. I am happy at this time of year. I like it when the weather is warm and I can see the sun and people are not afraid to leave their homes for fear of freezing. If the weather could stay exactly as it is now, I would be in Heaven. (Look for the I. DESPISE. WINTER. version of this post in approximately seven months.)

Mark is buying a new truck. It’s time. He called me at work a couple of times today to update me on which truck he found in what price range and color at which dealership and what kind of extras come with it. He needed my opinion. I said I didn’t have an opinion. All I wanted to know was if the monthly payment fits the budget. I don’t care about anything else. It’s HIS truck. He said it wasn’t his, it was ours and I should have an opinion. I said it wasn’t ours, it was his. The car is MINE and it’s paid for. See how that works?

Downtown people are scary sometimes. I was leaving work and walking the couple of blocks to my parking ramp. There was a guy standing at the bus stop waiting for the bus. Well, I presume he was waiting for the bus because I think that’s what people do on bus stops. I could be wrong though. It’s been a while. Anyway.

What was I saying?

Oh yeah.

The guy at the bus stop was prying his cell phone apart.

With a knife.

A big knife.

I looked at the knife and all I could think is if he decided to stab me with the knife it would be able to go through my stomach and come out my spine. Ironically, this thought only raised a mild curiosity within me and very little actual fear. I may be a slight bit too trusting. But you’ll be pleased to know I did not get stabbed after all.

I think I’m going to go buy myself a hot pink and black bowling ball tonight. It’s time to get my own and stop bowling with Jake’s, don’t you think?

Exactly how many pills did Carter have, anyway? And was that Jimmy Carter? And what kind of pills were they?

No, I have not been drinking.

Rock Chef's "off the top of his head" interview

I emailed my long time pal, Rock Chef this morning to inquire as to where today’s post might be. We’ve reached the point in our friendship where I feel comfortable enough to nag him about such a thing. He’s a good sport and he promptly got his daily post published, even including in the title an apology for making me wait! Look!

We exchanged a few emails and I soon found myself faced with a set of interview questions that he had promised quite some time ago. And since I am completely lacking in anything interesting to blog about, I am more than happy to respond. (And I am reminded that I promised interview questions to a few people a while ago too, so maybe I’ll get those out sometime this century as well.)

These are the questions that Rock Chef came up with “off the top of his head.”

  1. Choose three words to describe each of your children. Brad – extrovert, compassionate, mellow. Jake – intense, introspective, loyal. Kacey – adventurous, intelligent, nurturing. 
  2. You have been married to Mark for quite a long time now. What is your secret? What do you do that so many others fail to do? Two words: Night shift. I’m kidding! The real reason? He puts up with me.
  3. If you could walk into a new job, any job, no training required, what would it be? A writer. I could write columns, reviews, books…I don’t care. I would simply love to have the resources and the ability to write things people want to read.
  4. If you could re-live one year of your life, which one would it be? I thought long and hard about this one and the answer might surprise you. I would love to re-live the year I started school. I was five years old, going on six. Up until that point in my life, my world was incredibly small. The day I started school, the world began to expand before my very eyes. Every day brought new doors to be opened. Every day was an adventure and a chance to learn something new. I was unconditionally happy. Life was simple and infinitely exciting and I loved every minute of it.
  5. Do you think that your undeniable hotness affects the number of male readers that you get? If so, how do you feel about this?Rock Chef! I’m not hot! I am almost always cold except for approximately three days a year when it gets warm here. This is Minn-e-SOH-ta, remember? Duh! My standard winter wardrobe consists of approximately 13.6 layers of clothing. Hot. Really. What areyou thinking? Sheesh.

Sharing my useful knowlege

I thanked a coworker for sharing some new-found information this morning. She replied, “Knowledge is power. Use it wisely.”

I told her, “Ignorance is bliss.”

Truthfully, I do like to be well-informed, but that doesn’t always mean I’m smart. Smart people don’t run around melting their finger skin off with hot irons.

Smart people don't touch hot irons by you.

Don’t ask. Yes, I knew the iron was on. Yes, I knew it was hot. My only defense is that it was way too early for my brain to be functioning at full capacity and it even took quite a few seconds for my nerves to scream out, “Hey, Idiot! That hurts!”

Allow me to share some powerful knowledge with you. People with blisters on their fingers don’t bowl very well. Did I tell you? I’m a full-fledged member of the bowling team now. And of course, now that I’m no longer the sub, I’ve forgotten how to bowl. I bowled like a rock star when I was just the sub. Now that I’m a true member of the team, I kind of suck. This week, we’ll blame my pulled back muscle and blistered fingers. Next week I better show some improvement or they’ll kick me right back off the team!

There are interesting people in the bowling alley. Last week I was chatting with my little 17-year old mentally challenged buddy. He was telling me about bowling with his family and I told him as soon as they finish building the new bowling alley by my house that I’m going to go bowling all the time with my 17-year old son who also likes to bowl. There was a man sitting next to my buddy and I heard him ask, “Where do you live?”

I looked at him, and he was facing my direction but I honestly couldn’t tell if he was talking to me. One of his eyes was squished shut and the other was sort of floating around in circles. I tried to follow his gaze, but I was getting dizzy. He asked again, “Where do you live?”

I decided it was a safe bet to answer and that turned out to be a good call, since he was, in fact asking in which city I live so he could figure out where the new bowling alley was going to be. We had quite a nice conversation and I didn’t have to try too hard not to ask if he was allowed to drive with that rogue eye.

ADHD moment… Total change of subject. Check this out:

Believe it! by you.

My daughter got the biggest kick out of this insert that came in the package of underwear I bought her. The undies were these really teeny-tiny microfiber panties and did NOT look like they’d fit a grown person. But guess what? They do!

And speaking of random thoughts, my boss buys these awesome scented liquid Bath & Bodyworks hand-soaps for the ladies’ room at work. The one I tried today smelled really good, and I wanted to make a note of the name so I might buy some for at home. It was “Freshwater Cucumber.” I wonder if there are saltwater cucumbers too? I didn’t even know cucumbers could swim.

No, I have NOT been drinking. I’ve just had a hair-on-fire busy kind of week so far and for the record, I LOVE IT! Bring it on!

End of rambling… I’m off to catch up with all of you.