tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10645855892811236882024-02-22T00:53:45.175-08:00Lighten Up!Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.comBlogger169125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-48348975313435036552020-11-29T04:51:00.000-08:002020-11-29T04:51:31.019-08:00Big Book Announcement: Black Dog, White Couch, and the Rest of My Really Bad Ideas<p><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Over the years, I've told you many secrets on this blog. And today, I've got another one for you. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">See, I am the Princess of Poor Choices. The Senora of Stupid Plans. The Queen of Questionable Schemes.</span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-34d2e626-7fff-4be8-508c-c3a397e3ffab"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Yes - I am really good.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">At bad ideas.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And in my newest book, </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Black Dog, White Couch, and the Rest of My Really Bad Ideas, </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ll tell you about </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">all </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">of them, beginning with the terrible choice of owning an ill-mannered black dog at the same time as a white couch, then obtaining another enormous, drooling dog - and several more white couches.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">But wait! There’s more!</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Like the time I spent $800 on a 99-cent goldfish. And the time I super-glued mothballs to a tarp and almost killed my family. And almost every single thing I did in the 1980s.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A follow-up to my first book, </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I Love You. Now Go Away: Confessions of a Woman with a Smartphone, Black Dog, White Couch, and the Rest of My Really Bad Ideas </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is a memoir-in-essays-in idiocy, chock full of bad ideas, aversions to pants, and never-ending quests to get the hell out of Ohio. You will once again learn more about me than you ever wanted to know, and for that, I am once again very sorry. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So I hope you’ll pull up a couch, pour yourself a nice glass of gas-station wine, and pick up </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Black Dog, White Couch, and the Rest of My Really Bad Ideas. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Hey. We may not all agree on many things these days, but I think one thing we can all agree that 2020 was freaking awful. We could all use something to laugh at this year. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">It might as well be me.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span><i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Black-White-Couch-Really-Ideas-ebook/dp/B08P94L9PG/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank"> Available here:</a></i></span><br /></span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Black-White-Couch-Really-Ideas-ebook/dp/B08P94L9PG/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1274" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH9DtDwmepL46JqTAatP61Ca371NYJqVuxCCqAZ0m4oxqOdOflsef0GUHcRj3D-Te9gP1ltp_o290YVEKEpNjyuIiFGSBYaDMnLN5hN20lpFPPQfzyxHqaYTFTGzD5bT0wrPScIgdB6eHu/w398-h640/_Black+Dog+White+Couch-Front+FIXED.jpg" width="398" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></span><p></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-52428611620007615952020-04-10T06:48:00.000-07:002020-04-10T06:48:04.314-07:00The TP Chronicles - Part Deux<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Wow - I'm more than halfway done with the book!</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Crap. I'm only a little more than halfway done with the book.</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">These are my two conflicting thoughts as I tally my word count each week, trying to get to my goal of 57,000 words for the new book. I vacillate back and forth between, Wow! Crap. Wow! Crap. Wow! Crap. every time I count. But, as the Husband always says, "You're a glass-half-empty kind of gal."And he's right - I'm a perpetual pessimist. So Crap always wins.</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Speaking of crap, below is a chapter from the book. I'm breaking my rule of never publishing a full chapter of new material before the book release. But (butt) these are desperate times, and maybe my little story can make someone laugh. Or at least chuckle warmly. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Stay healthy everyone.</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCy0xnNx1rCcc1U7kbxrYvcecLk4Y_wi5mOAIJsz4RzfGuTJn1_tcOGdnGdxOcYA4m7XPcM_9HvKwZ3ZSNaw2zkYorZFuwOkPgZjeWf03i7fX5G8N-ZH3S2Y_rJQDRxuAmnU5cIuRdr7H9/s1600/hilly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="624" data-original-width="948" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCy0xnNx1rCcc1U7kbxrYvcecLk4Y_wi5mOAIJsz4RzfGuTJn1_tcOGdnGdxOcYA4m7XPcM_9HvKwZ3ZSNaw2zkYorZFuwOkPgZjeWf03i7fX5G8N-ZH3S2Y_rJQDRxuAmnU5cIuRdr7H9/s400/hilly.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Post copyright 2020, Dawn Weber)</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I could wipe with that.</span></span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-38791126-7fff-aa64-9d98-10f08d1c2bff" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Such are the obsessions one has during the time of plague. I do, anyway. Not handwashing, not mask-wearing, no. My thoughts turn repeatedly and compulsively to . . . </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Wiping. Not my nose.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My butt. </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Apologies for the graphic visual. But we're several weeks into the coronavirus pandemic and I’m a little worried. Aside from working from couch without pants, about the only good things to come of COVID-19 is that A) I’m still here - so far, and B) I can now reliably spell the word “apocalypse.” So needless to say, I’m a little edgy. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Things are so weird and awful right now that state governments have issued stay-at-home orders and shut down schools, restaurants and worst of all, bars. Stores have cut their hours, limited the number of shoppers inside, and completely sold out of toilet paper. </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ugh. No bars and no toilet paper. Whatever will we do? However will we WIPE?</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I’m brave enough to don a mask and gloves and go to the store, I see the TP shortage firsthand. Shelves - hell, entire toilet paper aisles - are completely bare of Charmin, Cottonelle, even that terrible White Cloud. In fact, the entire paper goods aisle is empty and taped with caution tape, exactly like a murder scene. You can see straight through the shelving to the snacks aisle and onward, into the very bowels of hell. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Toilet paper isn’t the only thing missing; meat is hard to find, and vegetables have completely disappeared. Normally you can’t give veggies away, but finding a bag of romaine lettuce right now is impossible. It’s like the world is ending and everybody decided to sit down for a nice Caesar salad.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Still, it’s the lack of TP that keeps me up at night, and for that, I blame the Husband. When the COVID-19 epidemic started a month or so ago, I foresaw the impending Shortage of Doom and asked him to pick up three extra packages of toilet paper for us on his weekly Sunday grocery trip. Did he do that?</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Of course he didn’t. Spending money on something we already have at home causes his tightwad head to explode. He bought exactly one pack of toilet paper. And guess what? As of last Wednesday, we didn’t have much left. </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The thing is, I don’t even like toilet paper. In fact, I hate it. I prefer bidets, and we will get to that soon enough. But suffice it to say that I am no fan of toilet paper because, like so many women who’ve had babies, my undercarriage has been through the wringer. The Hobo’s birth was especially traumatic on account of his giant head, causing one maternity nurse to tell me that in 30 years of medicine, she’d never seen a bottom as terrorized as mine. “It’s like a bomb went off!” she said.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I will try to spare you the rest of the gory details but suffice it to say my southern hemisphere has seen it all: constipation, hemorrhoids - all the things women complain about after having a baby. In my case, the baby is 17, and I’m still a mess - such was (and still is) the size of his head. Sometimes it’s so painful I don’t know what the hell is going on back there. It’s like an army of knife-wielding elves, cheerfully taking turns stabbing me. When you’re that sore even the softest Charmin feels like 60-grit.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What can I say, though? A girl’s gotta clean herself, and like the old song goes, you don’t know what you got till it’s gone. Or almost gone, anyway, and since this TP shortage started a few weeks ago, I’ve been looking at toilet paper as gold. Better than gold, actually. I’d happily trade one of my good necklaces for a value pack of Cottonelle. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I’ve been forced to plan ahead. To really look around. For things with which to potentially wipe. Nothing has been safe from my gaze. And really, the possibilities are endless if you’re imaginative. Leaves? I could wipe with that. Old napkins from the glove compartment? I could wipe with that. Ears of corn? I could wipe with that. A passing dog? Don’t tempt me, because if I have to, I will absolutely wipe with that. </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In the very beginning of the pandemic, my saving grace was the local Dollar General. Surrounded by cornfields and cows, it sits alone with no other nearby businesses. The parking lot is always packed, though, precisely because there’s nothing else around and we don’t have a choice. It’s about a mile down the road from our house in Beautiful Downtown Brownsville near another small village called Gratiot, which we pronounce improperly as “Gray-shot” because we are rednecks. We love our Dollar General because it sells all kinds of necessities. Cigarettes, Mountain Dew, plastic wading pools. Really, what more does a hillbilly need? </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Since regular big-box grocery stores became coronavirus-infested cesspools devoid of veggies, meat and toilet paper, I’d been staying away from them as much as possible and hitting up the Dollar General whenever we needed something. But eventually, DG didn’t have TP either so I gave up and went back to thinking creatively. We never completely ran out of toilet paper, but I was planning ahead in case we did. An old towel? I could wipe with that. A Post-It note? I could wipe with that. One of the Husband’s clean socks? I could wipe with that, then maybe put it back in his drawer. It would certainly serve him right for not buying extra toilet paper when I told him to.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Thinking of things with which to wipe has become my favorite hobby, and I was deep in </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I could wipe with that </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">mode while driving back from the Gratiot (Gray-shot) post office the day before yesterday. Because of their disappointing lack of wiping items, I’d recently started ignoring good ol’ DG. They’d disappointed me. They’d let me down. They’d </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">completely</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; white-space: pre-wrap;"> run out of toilet paper. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was just getting ready to turn and drive past the store again when a little voice whispered to me. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Never doubt the Dollar General</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, it said, so</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I turned my head and surveyed the store’s parking lot. </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And what to my wondering eyes did appear? A great big semi, pulled up to the cement pad of the side dock. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hmm</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, I thought. Semis meant boxes. Boxes meant items. Items meant stocked shelves.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I pulled into the lot and parked. I grabbed my purse, jumped out and almost ran to the paper goods aisle where I found . . .</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">. . . absolutely nothing at all. Of course not. Why did I even bother?</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Head down, I turned and began walking back toward the doors when I saw something out of the corner of my eye.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One employee, dressed in yellow and black. Opening a big box of motherfuckin’ toilet paper.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My heart leapt. I snuck up on her slowly, carefully, the way one would approach a rabbit. I didn’t want to spook her, lest she dash away with the loot. I waited until she disappeared behind a shelf. Then, I made my move, lunging at the box and thrusting my arms inside.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Which is, of course, precisely when she came back around the corner. There I was, caught. Guilty. Red-handed. </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Eyes as wide as Charmin rolls, I tried to plead my case.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Please, miss,” I said. “May I have some?”</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She glared at me. “Yeah, but you can only take two. If you absolutely need them.”</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Oh I do, I do! Thank you so much!” I grabbed two packages before she changed her mind, avoiding the urge to hug her.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I turned around and nearly skipped to the register. While waiting in line, I smiled triumphantly at everyone around me. A woman behind me whispered softly, “Where did you get it?”</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“It’s in the back,” I hissed. “Not on the shelves, still in the box. The other employee is unpacking it. She’ll let you have two!”</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She spun on her heel and sprinted away, intent on her own mission.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Still smiling like an idiot, I paid for my purchase, walked out the door and drove home with my “DG” brand TP. </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">DG was the cheapo store brand. It would feel like steel wool, I knew. I didn’t care. As I said, my rear is a war zone anyway. At least I had something with which to wipe it.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And so with this, my lowly TP adventure, I hope I have helped you during your time of need. Remember, if you’re ever running low on toilet paper, just get creative, stay alert and take a page from my book. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because you know - you could totally wipe with that.</span></span></div>
Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-70158041767696750752019-09-13T04:51:00.001-07:002019-09-13T04:51:36.883-07:00Big Dog, Bad Idea and a Book Announcement<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Crackhead dogs. Farting husbands. Dollar General filet mignon.</span></span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-99d88004-7fff-0ac3-0d17-025f77c62660" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you know how those three things go together, well, I’m sorry, because it means you read my book, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I Love You. Now Go Away. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Absolute tens of people bought </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ILYNGA</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and I’m ever so grateful. I had a blast writing it and even more fun getting comments, texts and emails from people who read my sordid tales. I enjoyed the whole process so much, in fact, that I’ve decided to do it again.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So if you like reading about balls, bad beer and boobs getting in the way of golf . . . well then, again - that was my last book. But I’ll have something similar for you soon! I’m thinking in about a year.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That’s the good news. </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The bad news is I won’t be around here, on my blog, as much as I’d like to because there’s only so much “funny” in me. I'm very limited on the funny! You're already aware of this if you’ve met me. I am very disappointing in person.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I know, I know - I already took a two-year break from blogging. I miss it because I love reading the comments and, hopefully, making my friends laugh a little. </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But if I’m blogging my material, then there’s nothing left in me for a book. And I’d really like to leave behind some tangible things when my time on earth is up someday. I don’t want to leave behind a bunch of web pages for Google to delete eventually! I’d much rather leave behind books - for somebody to throw away eventually.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Oh well. You get my point.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Anyway, please stick with me! I’ll have something for you - relatively soon.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">___________________________________________________</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As with my last book, my plan is to post snippets here from</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">time to time from the upcoming book. Here is a bit from the </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">chapter tentatively titled “Big Dog/Bad Idea.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>I do not want another dog,” I told her.</i></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><i><br /></i></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Missy tilted her head to the left.</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>“I mean it,” I said. “The Meth Lab is enough.”</i></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><i><br /></i></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Missy tilted her head to the right.</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>“Plus, you’re way too big!”</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Missy licked my face.</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>And so we have another dog.</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Again, this isn’t just any dog. She is a dog who has her own zip code. A dog who has her own ecosystem. A dog who has her own weather . . .</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Stay Tuned!</span></div>
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<br /><br />Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-84656281187838577932019-07-17T05:56:00.000-07:002019-07-17T06:34:50.035-07:00Men in Tights<div class="adn ads" data-legacy-message-id="16bffd76d6f73988" data-message-id="#msg-f:1639307476240644488" style="background-color: white; border-left: none; color: #222222; display: flex; padding: 0px;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>(post copyright 2019, Dawn Weber)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was happy on our wedding day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was elated when the kids were born.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was overjoyed when the Princess graduated from high school.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But nothing -- I repeat, nothing -- thrills my brave, strong husband like a nice long night of . . .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dinner theater.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I suppose I should clarify here. The dinner theater to which I refer is an equine, sword and testosterone-ridden affair known as Medieval Times in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. It offers stunning visuals! It's filled with beautiful horses! It features amazingly talented performers!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It is not my thing at all!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Part of the reason is the horses, because horses and I don't mix. I've ridden exactly five times in my life, and of those five, I've been thrown three.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The first time, at age 12, a green-broke horse gleefully launched me onto a jagged tree stump, whereupon I received a four-inch gash on my back. I should have had it stitched up, but I neglected to tell anyone because I wasn't supposed to be riding in the first place. So, in all my 12-year-old wisdom, I bled and suffered for months in silence rather than risk telling my mother.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As you can see, I was brilliant.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As you can imagine, I still have a huge scar.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The other two horses that threw me were similar assholes, one of whom broke my nose. So yes, I avoid horses except to gaze upon them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">From a very far distance.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Which leads us back to Medieval Times.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">During our recent vacation, the Husband wanted -- nay <span style="font-size: x-small;">(neigh)</span> demanded -- to go. We've been there twice before, and though it makes him so happy, I wasn't looking forward to attending again because I remembered it as a loud, crowded, horse-intensive affair with, worst of all, absolutely no alcohol.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I know, I know -- some of you might say <i>You don't need alcohol to have a good time!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To which I would reply, <i>Of course you do! Especially when there are horses around!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Luckily, I remembered wrong about the hooch, because one of the first things we saw upon arriving at Medieval Times was a very large, very overpriced bar. I put a second mortgage on the house real quick so I could buy a beer, then the Husband, the Hobo and I settled in our seats for the show.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Oh, he could barely contain himself. This is a man who will randomly shout "MEDIEVALLL TIMESSS!" while getting dressed for work in the morning. The Hobo also enjoys it, which makes sense given his love of swords, dirt and all things violent.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Out came the performers and the damn horses. Jousting! Dust! Way more testosterone than necessary!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As we watched, I brought up the fact that it surprises me the Husband enjoys <i>le theatre</i> so. I mean, there were grown men in tights and what appeared to be miniskirts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I can't believe you like this stuff," I told him. "It seems a little too Renaissance</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> fair--y for you."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Smiling, never removing his eyes from the arena, he shook his head. "Well the Guys At Work say Renaissance fairs are cool!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ah, the TGAWs. That explains it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You remember the TGAWs, yes? It's been years since I've written about them, but as you'll recall, Jesus had his disciples, the president has his advisers, and my husband has The Guys At Work. Aristotle? Ha. Socrates? Scoff. Who needs them when we have the astute counsel of Mark, Biff, Bob and Other Bob.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">They. Know. Everything. And as a wife, I. Know. Nothing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The show continued, and I feigned enthusiasm as best I could. But since I couldn't match the boys' unrestrained happiness, I decided to take a quick restroom break and avoid horses. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I arose, climbed the stairs, stepped into the colorful, castle-themed lobby, and it was there I beheld something wonderful:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Another bar. And another bar only meant one thing:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Another beer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">That's right. I could stay at this second bar, take out a third mortgage on the house, and slowly sip a beer in the quiet, nearly deserted lobby with no dust, no swords and absolutely no horses whatsoever.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anticipating peace, free time and maybe a nice summer shandy, I walked slowly toward the second bar. I reached back, unzipped my purse and grabbed some cash. And that's when I saw it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A Medieval Times t-shirt. In the Husband's size.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Here, I had a dilemma. Should I buy a beer and sit and enjoy it in peace? Or should I be an awesome wife and buy him a t-shirt? Beer? T-shirt? Beer? T-shirt? Beer? T-shirt?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Most of you know me pretty well, so you will probably guess at what I chose.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And you would probably be wrong because I bought the damn t-shirt. Plus a mug to go with it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">No peace, no quiet, no more beer for me. I paid for the items and ambled back into the theater where the horses raced, the swords clashed and the boys sat waiting, watching . . .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">. . . and grinning like complete idiots.</span></div>
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Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-37071913252642937702019-06-23T05:46:00.000-07:002019-06-23T05:46:47.116-07:00Snoop Dogg and the Collapsing Cubicle<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>(post copyright 2019, Dawn Weber)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">My Buddy Al has dreams.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">You remember Al, my Youngstown pal, he of the <a href="http://lightenupweber.blogspot.com/2012/05/day-of-three-burritos.html">Day of Three Burritos</a>. My co-worker, my friend, and the man who advises us all to never, ever - under any circumstances - wait in line with the dummies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yes, Al has dreams. But he doesn't dream of a new car or house or job. He doesn't dream of curing cancer, solving world peace or winning the lottery. He doesn't dream big, he doesn't dream small. Nope.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Al dreams of Snoop Dogg.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In his cubicle.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eating pie and tearing things up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Al didn't tell me about his dream right away - I heard it on a lunch break one day from our co-worker, Shereen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Tell her about Snoop Dogg!" she said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Intrigued, I turned to Al. "What does she mean 'Snoop Dogg?'"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He regarded me briefly from his fun-size bag of potato chips. "Snoop Dogg was here."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"What do you mean, 'Snoop Dogg was here'?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He grabbed a napkin, wiped his face and placed the chip bag on the table.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Things are serious when Al puts down his chips.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He leaned forward. "So, I dreamed I was in my cubicle, right?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Okay . . ." I said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I was sitting here working," he said, "and Snoop Dogg came flying around the corner!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Wow," I said. "Snoop Dogg. How cool!''</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"No," Al shook his head. "He started yelling at me and tearing down my pod walls."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Are you sure it was Snoop Dogg?" I asked. "That doesn't sound like him. All that weed - he seems like such an amiable guy."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Oh, it was him. And he was eating pie - my pie, mind you - and yelling 'Ra-ZIZZO! Ra-ZIZZO!' Over and over."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Well, what did you do?" I asked Al, who is 6'4" and built like a linebacker. "Did you fight back?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"No way," he said. "He was acting all crazy, so I hid under my desk. He just kept eating pie, yelling 'Ra-ZIZZO! Ra-ZIZZO !' and tearing down my cubicle."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I nodded, speechless.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Then the walls fell on me," he said, "I was trapped between them and my desk. And he's over there eating pie and yelling."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"What happened next?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"That was it. I woke up. I was all . . . agitated."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Huh," I said. "What do you think that was about?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He shrugged, leaned back and picked up his chips, clearly done with the matter. "Who knows?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Break over, I walked back to my cubicle where there were, sadly, no chips, rappers or bakery products whatsoever, and pondered Al's dream. What could it mean, the collapsing cubicle, the famous celebrity, the random pastry? Did Al envy Snoop's lavish lifestyle? Did he feel trapped at his desk sometimes?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Holy Hostess cupcakes - was he lacking in sugary snacks?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I haven't seen many episodes, but I'm sure Snoop Dogg has made desserts on VH1's "Martha and Snoop's Dinner Party." And I'm sure he did it in his usual laid-back, sleepy-stoner way. I just can't imagine Snoop being aggressive about anything these days - especially pie - which makes it even more odd that he antagonized Al in this fashion. I mean, not only did he tear down his cubicle, he yelled at him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And then went on to eat the man's snack.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the end, the whole thing probably meant nothing. Just a bunch of chemicals coursing through a man's brain overnight, reminding him of things he might have seen that day. Cubicles. Snoop Dogg. Pie. I guess there's really no point in worrying about it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">After all, I don't want to ruin Al's dreams.</span><br />
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Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-10731301270275235722017-08-18T07:50:00.000-07:002017-08-18T07:50:56.624-07:00Zen in the Slow Lane<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>(post copyright 2017, Dawn Weber)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I tried something new today. I drove the speed limit. Almost.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I can't believe it myself, but it's true: I went 71 miles an hour in a 70 mph zone on the interstate, and I am thoroughly impressed with myself, even though I might be a senior citizen now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Not only did I go the speed limit, I stayed on the far right for most of my trip. Yep. I tooled along in the slow lane like I had no place to go. Like I didn't have a job. Like I was 80.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, this idea of driving slow. Along with millions of other American hot-heads, I've been a fast-lane driver most of my life, cheerfully going five to ten miles over the speed limit in the left lane and passing everyone in the right lane. My habits have only grown worse as I've aged--I've been the blur on your left, the headlights in your rearview mirror and the thorn in your side, kind of wishing you'd get out of my way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I've said before, instant asshole: just add freeway. Nowhere is this more apparent than the interstate, where nice, tax-paying, law-abiding people become Satan's spawn. It's especially true of the left lane, where the asshole quota is much higher.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'll admit it: without even meaning to, I have occasionally been obnoxious in the fast lane. Maybe more "jerk" than asshole, but still--I'm tired of it. I'm tired of watching for brake lights. I'm tired of white knuckles. I'm tired of stress headaches, a pounding heart and a racing pulse. I'm tired of Rusty McLeftLane, cruising 50 mph in the fast lane. I'm tired of Sneaky McRightLane, trying to pass on the right. I'm tired of tail-gaters, riding my rear like a frat boy on a Saturday night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Mostly, I'm just tired.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And in today's commute, I discovered something important, and it is that in the slow lane, there are no worries. I can drive at a reasonable pace, merrily oblivious to any kind of stress, and if the people behind me don't like it, well, they can pull out and pass. I'm doing what a right-lane driver should: putting along at the posted speed limit, while the folks in the left lane continue in their quest to kill each other.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Oldster level: complete.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But most of all, in the slow lane, I can ignore the assholes, and if I've learned anything in my 48 years, it's that one of the keys to a long and happy life is ignoring assholes. Before I move from "jerk" status to "asshole" status myself, I'm going to slow my roll a bit, because the senior citizens really have something here. Although I'</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">ll admit that it's much easier to do when I'm going somewhere I have no desire to go -- such as work -- d</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">riving the speed limit in the right lane is freeing and downright relaxing, and I have much more energy to think, to chill--to just stop and smell the roadkill. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You know, I just might obey the law more often.</span></div>
Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-21680144849742499422017-07-17T02:42:00.001-07:002017-07-17T02:42:23.799-07:00Let Sleeping Bums Lie<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>(post copyright 2017, Dawn Weber)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Hobo is missing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I've looked for him everywhere, and checked all the usual spots: the couch, the computer, the refrigerator. He's usually in one of these places engaged in his hobbies of video-gaming, Snap-chatting or eating his weight in chicken wings. But I just can't find the boy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So I ask the husband, "Where's your son?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And that's when it happens: the unthinkable. The unfathomable. The unbelievable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"He's taking a nap."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My heart stops, my stomach thumps. Surely there's been some kind of mistake.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Yeah, right," I tell him. "That kid doesn't nap. He's never napped."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Husband glances up from his iPhone, where he's playing his 341st daily round of Panda Pop. "See for yourself."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm going to have to do that, because there's no way I believe him. Our son hasn't napped since the early 2000s, and he hasn't willingly taken a nap ever.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I creep slowly, slowly up the stairs to his room.Pausing outside the door, I listen for movement or the telltale <i>Pew-pew-pew!</i> of video games, but hear nothing. My hand rises to the doorknob then stops. I am, after all, the mother of a teenage boy. I better knock first.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Knock-knock</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">No answer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Knock-knock</i> again, louder.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nothing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is alarming.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Are you sure he's in here?" I hiss down to the Husband in the living room.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He's annoyed, but he doesn't look up from Panda Pop. "I'm tellin' ya, he's napping."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Still doubting, I turn the knob and ease open the door. And that's where I find the Hobo, fast asleep, sweating, drooling and indeed, napping.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My jaw drops. This is a kid who hasn't taken a nap since he was a newborn, and then, he never went down without a fight. Even before birth, his tiny fists and feet pummeled the insides of my belly all night long. The baby knew no bedtime.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I tip-toe over to the bed. Still not believing my eyes, I bend over his body. I have to make sure he's ok. "Hey," I whisper, shaking his shoulder. "Are you sick or something?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He wrinkles his brow. "Hmmff?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I said, are you sick? Are you ok?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He rolls over, eyes still shut, face perturbed. "I'm fine. I'm just tired, that's all."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Who is this kid, and where is my son, who hasn't slept since the Bush administration? I had to beg, plead, cajole and bribe him with Doritos to nap. I had to lay beside his crib on the hardwood floor, holding his hand through the slats to try and get him to sleep. Forty-five minutes later I'd be there, hips throbbing, still clutching his hand through the crib, his eyes as wide as saucers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm not sure where such a non-napping baby came from. The husband is a nap-master, elevating it to a high art form. He can sleep anywhere -- outside, during a conversation, behind the wheel of a moving automobile. Anywhere.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Somewhat worried about the sleeping Hobo, I pull my phone from my pocket and Google "Teenage son sleepy." Thousands of posts pop up, all of which come down to "rapid physical growth."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Well. That makes sense. The boy has shot up at least six inches in the past couple years, towering over me now, his arms easily reaching the ceiling. It's almost scary how much he's grown, and sometimes it frightens me that the tall hairy guy raiding the refrigerator once resided in my abdomen. How did that gangly giant come from me? The physics alone are frightening.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I put my phone away and look back down at him. So now he naps. Great. Must be nice. One of my lifelong goals is a nap. As I've said before, I've been engaged in a futile attempt to sleep since the kids were born. The Hobo in particular thwarted most of my potential naps, insistent as he was on remaining awake until the second coming of Christ. That boy beat the sleep right out of me, and over time -- and the countless hours on the cold floor -- I learned to let go of the idea of ever napping again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hey -- I'm a parent. I gave up my dreams a long time ago.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I feel a wave of nostalgia, looking at his rumpled bed-head. It would be kind of nice, I think, to lie down, strike the old pose and watch him sleep. But 14-year-old boys don't take well to hand-holding.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And 48-year-old hips don't take well to the floor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Standing there, I also toy briefly with the idea of waking him up, partly for revenge, sure, but mostly to stop the growth spurt that's pushing him ever taller, ever out the door, ever away from us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Instead I ease my way from his room, shut the door and leave him be, just another drooling hobo, tangled in a blanket.</span></div>
Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-55921463138850977942016-12-30T04:08:00.000-08:002016-12-30T04:08:16.935-08:00Big Book Announcement! Finally!<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white;">
<div style="color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">That's right! After four years, 833 hours of procrastination, two dozen boxes of wine, five million re-reads and approximately 7,498,865 edits, it's finally happened.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">The book. She is here.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5O0rUWkWRwYwDbVrsczEXMxnw2-iu-UMBDaAufHmdTIgk8pH4PMmLtBUIy9HH29pU5L-AtmQsxJnM771uCHsCsj6CXTx8Udgm4uY7o-SPV1il0kEGrZ0NCfzZiuMGOhk5OZuYuR1pJy6w/s640/Kindle+Cover+I_Love_You._Now_Go_A_Cover_for_Kindle.jpg" width="426" /></div>
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0692789081/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0692789081&linkCode=as2&tag=liup0e-20&linkId=d9c584590d2c0ae8fbe3a6abd0c12320" target="_blank">I Love You. Now Go Away: Confessions of a Woman with a Smartphone</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=liup0e-20&l=am2&o=1&a=0692789081" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">is a thoroughly modern concept, a book written on a phone. In fact, for the past seven years, I've drafted all my pieces -- at least until the point where they have to be formatted in Word or Blogger -- on my phone.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">It started with a Blackberry. Back in 2009, I realized I hadn't yet attempted my lifelong dream of writing humor. Since I'd just turned 40, I figured I'd better get on that. You know, before I dropped dead and all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Because I loathe writing with a pen -- and no one can read my chicken-scratch anyway -- I began writing on my phone. I let my thumbs do the walkin', tapping out thoughts on my Blackberry keypad, </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">transferring them to a PC, and submitting them to the local paper -- and later to this blog and the Huffington Post. Eight years (and eight phones) later, I'm still at it, and here's the book to prove it. Read on for the back cover copy:</span></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1064585589281123688" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQBkW9Fhe9JneygXdUkw-DHzf7AUiJ3TNDax8CwK4_FiYADA60NYBK2HCCRWmzvAwWTiRrpPMMG9l2OsNMVe3gi_bJR57v_zj9GhXqGrldkajligHa_YdTBXdukBOZwdPoiAQ8CNfkPONa/s1600/RearCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQBkW9Fhe9JneygXdUkw-DHzf7AUiJ3TNDax8CwK4_FiYADA60NYBK2HCCRWmzvAwWTiRrpPMMG9l2OsNMVe3gi_bJR57v_zj9GhXqGrldkajligHa_YdTBXdukBOZwdPoiAQ8CNfkPONa/s640/RearCover.jpg" width="503" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">If you like the blog, I think you'll love the book. Though there are a few favorites inside, 96 percent of this humor collection is new material featuring the usual suspects, the Husband, the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Princess</span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">and the Hobo, as well as dozens of shenanigans featuring yours truly. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Adventures in my soul-sucking cubicle! The annual trip to the OB/GYN! That time I drank vodka and fell off a boat! All of this and more. You will learn more about me than you ever wanted to know, and I am so sorry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Still, I hope you'll pick up<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>I Love You. Now Go Away<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>(and, if you enjoy it, please leave a review -- reviews are so important!) But even if you don't, I want to say how much I appreciate those of you who have read and laughed with me all these years. Without your support and words of encouragement, I'd never have attempted the monumental, gratifying, and unbelievably frightening task of writing a book. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">So it's all your fault.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">And I thank you for that.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 18px;"><iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=US&source=ac&ref=tf_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=liup0e-20&marketplace=amazon&region=US&placement=0692789081&asins=0692789081&linkId=a68c57178836c886e3d8bbbc328ca7bd&show_border=false&link_opens_in_new_window=false&price_color=333333&title_color=0066c0&bg_color=ffffff" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></span></font></p>
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Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-31633474667792247092016-12-16T04:59:00.000-08:002016-12-16T04:59:54.351-08:00All I Want for Christmas Is to Lose 10 Pounds<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAGHgFx6_agmn4dLUbFqB3gWK03wKXZcu7Sgb4Rlu1FPhd2J3qwq9r0CjO2DopIv9Yc9ctMurxgcGTQoI8c2w3gZj9oIciQqVWus-l2hx-ivT7g4SUVgfIWaF4kzv2Sb8dUxhWiIRMv64/s1600/womansanta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAGHgFx6_agmn4dLUbFqB3gWK03wKXZcu7Sgb4Rlu1FPhd2J3qwq9r0CjO2DopIv9Yc9ctMurxgcGTQoI8c2w3gZj9oIciQqVWus-l2hx-ivT7g4SUVgfIWaF4kzv2Sb8dUxhWiIRMv64/s320/womansanta.jpg" width="248" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>(post copyright 2016, Dawn Weber)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>It's not Christmas for me unless I'm ruining carols by completely re-writing them! </i></span></div>
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">Merriest of Christmases to you and yours!</i></div>
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">All I want for Christmas Is to Lose 10 Pounds</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">All I want for Christmas is to lose 10 pounds,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">To lose 10 pounds, just to lose 10 pounds,</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <div style="text-align: center;">
Gee, if I could find a way to lose 10 pounds,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Then I would have a Merry Christmas.<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">It seems so long since I could see,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My feet beneath my giant bulbous belly,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Oh gosh, oh gee how happy I'd be,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If my thighs felt less like jelly.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">All I want for Christmas is to lose 10 pounds,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">To lose 10 pounds, just to lose 10 pounds,</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <div style="text-align: center;">
Gee, if I could find a way to lose 10 pounds,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Then I would have a Merry Christmas.<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222;">It's been ages since I could get,</span><br />
My pants on without swearing or a struggle,</div>
</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <div style="text-align: center;">
"Oh crap, oh shit -- these slacks don't fit!"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Over a gut bulging like a bubble.<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222;">All I want for Christmas is to lose 10 pounds,</span><br />
To lose 10 pounds, just to lose 10 pounds,</div>
</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <div style="text-align: center;">
Gee, if I could find a way to lose 10 pounds,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Then I would have a Merry Christmas.<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222;">If I could just control myself,</span><br />
Around all the goodies, cakes and candy,</div>
</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <div style="text-align: center;">
Then I might have the chance to wear,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A skirt that pulls up over my big fanny.<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222;">All I want for Christmas is to lose 10 pounds,</span><br />
To lose 10 pounds, just to lose 10 pounds,</div>
</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <div style="text-align: center;">
Gee, if I could find a way to lose 10 pounds,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Then I would have a Merry Christmas.<br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I guess it's kind of </span>useless to,<br />
Try and diet at this time of year,</div>
</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <div style="text-align: center;">
When cream cheese is our main food group,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Nothing to drink but egg nog, wine and beer.<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Still . . .</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222;">All I want for Christmas is to lose 10 pounds,</span><br />
To lose 10 pounds, just to lose 10 pounds,</div>
</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <div style="text-align: center;">
Gee, if I could find a way to lose 10 pounds,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Then I would have a Merry Christmas!</div>
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">____________________________________________</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I'm Dreaming of a Blue Christmas</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm dreaming of a blue Christmas,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">A Christmas I have never known,</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <div style="text-align: center;">
Where the temp is 80,</div>
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And sun shines all day,</div>
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While I lie basking in its glow.<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222;">I'm dreaming of a blue Christmas,</span><br />
Without a snowflake to be found,</div>
</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <div style="text-align: center;">
I'll go on vacation,</div>
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With much elation, </div>
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As my plane flies southward bound.<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222;">Oh, I'm dreaming of a blue Christmas,</span><br />
Without a traffic jam in sight,</div>
</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <div style="text-align: center;">
No one aggravates me,</div>
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Or spikes my BP,</div>
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When I drive island roads at night.<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222;">I'm dreaming of a blue Christmas,</span><br />
Where I don't have to shop at all,</div>
</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <div style="text-align: center;">
I'll spend all damn day,</div>
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Just being lazy,</div>
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While up north y'all are at the mall.<br />
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<span style="color: #222222;">Yes, I'm dreaming of a blue Christmas,</span><br />
With every shovel full of snow,</div>
</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <div style="text-align: center;">
I clear the driveway,</div>
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But if I had my way,</div>
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I'd hop a Southwest flight and go.<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222;">I'm dreaming of a blue Christmas,</span><br />
I bet that you would like it too,</div>
</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <div style="text-align: center;">
May it happen for me and for you,</div>
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May we have one Christmas that is blue!</div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">_____________________________________</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>(... and I couldn't resist posting an old favorite I wrote in 2011)</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Santa's a Chick</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>(sung to the tune of "Jingle Bell Rock")</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Santa Claus, Santa Claus, Santa's a chick,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She lacks a dick, Santa's a chick,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No dude could do all they say that he does,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Only chicks could get all that done.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Santa Claus, Santa Claus, Santa's a chick,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ain’t that a kick, Santa’s a chick,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bakin’ and wrappin’ and deckin’ the hall,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With her wine bottle!</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;">What a headache, how her back aches,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fifty-nine things to do, </span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It's pure chaos, runs her ass off,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Most of these men don't even have a clue.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Santa Claus, Santa Claus, Santa’s a girl,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;">All 'round the world, Santa’s a girl,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Started her list around June 24,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Men they wait until the day before.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Santa Claus, Santa Claus, Santa has boobs,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Thirty-six Cs, average boobs,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bouncing and flouncing all over the mall,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Since the early fall!</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;">On Black Friday, she’s up early,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Left before the crack of dawn,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Flat-screen TVs, she’d like one, please,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I'm sorry ma’am - they’re already gone."</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hurry up, Santa Chick, get the hell home,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Cookies don't make themselves,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hubs he's asleep and he's no help at all,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That's why Santa's a . . .</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Surely Santa's a . . .</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That's why Santa's a chick!</span></div>
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Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-36812006259617316502016-11-30T02:40:00.000-08:002016-11-30T02:40:07.282-08:00Terror at the Grocery Store<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>(post copyright 2016, Dawn Weber)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There I stood in front of the door, faced with one of the most important decisions of my life. I was dazed. I was confused.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was downright scared.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It had all started innocently enough. I'd found a couple hours of unexpected free time, so I stopped to check out the fancy new grocery "marketplace" in town. I had heard the store contained a Starbuck's, a gourmet cheese counter, and -- joy of joys -- a wine bar. Since coffee, cheese and wine are my three main food groups, I was pretty stoked to see what else the place offered.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And it did not disappoint. My jaw dropped as I walked into a building big enough to require a dedicated zip code. At the front of the store, patients checked into a full-size health clinic, while in the cosmetics aisle, a makeup artist gave free makeovers. Add to that a clothing department, a shoe department, plus the aforementioned coffee, cheese and wine, and this place was a middle-aged woman's wildest dream.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But one thing the mega-mart didn't contain? Restrooms. At least, not in the traditional sense.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, as some of you who've been around here long enough may remember from years such as 2012, <a href="http://lightenupweber.blogspot.com/2012/10/adventures-at-walmart-in-restroom-send.html">I am somewhat restroom-challenged, especially when it comes to stores. I've merrily and cluelessly walked into the men's room at Walmart not once but twice</a> because every time management remodels the building, which is often, they flip-flop the restrooms, probably so they can stand in front of security cameras and laugh at dummies who don't pay attention. Such as me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So I've become the type of person who takes extra care in considering my bathroom choices. And as I made my way to the wall marked "restrooms," well, that's when it happened.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I looked to my left.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibiWnaW0CGMyewBRBQ3NtZHwYAa52t4URdERaO-wYzsEPCiSvQAZ4FsfWDV_deq6NacCoVWGdF4J8NITYhjySxLxnNru53hwMAmEgHG2HHRfaoD6AmJlDKjzzZVjMoJeGcG2Wgi59qe3x5/s1600/unirest.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibiWnaW0CGMyewBRBQ3NtZHwYAa52t4URdERaO-wYzsEPCiSvQAZ4FsfWDV_deq6NacCoVWGdF4J8NITYhjySxLxnNru53hwMAmEgHG2HHRfaoD6AmJlDKjzzZVjMoJeGcG2Wgi59qe3x5/s1600/unirest.gif" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I looked to my right.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPlJYCNENjZ96qbWVT8hvnf5knzK6_MfbsyJiRQkwHS7sJIFxRaARCMGkXIykeXeBU3daev7F0bYLSLL87ntVuZ_K1S_yz4NjDXMidTKpqPX99djwgkojBzeYS-eOqarNTrIpcdpA2YPCq/s1600/unirest.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPlJYCNENjZ96qbWVT8hvnf5knzK6_MfbsyJiRQkwHS7sJIFxRaARCMGkXIykeXeBU3daev7F0bYLSLL87ntVuZ_K1S_yz4NjDXMidTKpqPX99djwgkojBzeYS-eOqarNTrIpcdpA2YPCq/s1600/unirest.gif" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There were two of them, one on each side, and no other options. No ladies' room, no men's room, no "Family" room. Just:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPlJYCNENjZ96qbWVT8hvnf5knzK6_MfbsyJiRQkwHS7sJIFxRaARCMGkXIykeXeBU3daev7F0bYLSLL87ntVuZ_K1S_yz4NjDXMidTKpqPX99djwgkojBzeYS-eOqarNTrIpcdpA2YPCq/s1600/unirest.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPlJYCNENjZ96qbWVT8hvnf5knzK6_MfbsyJiRQkwHS7sJIFxRaARCMGkXIykeXeBU3daev7F0bYLSLL87ntVuZ_K1S_yz4NjDXMidTKpqPX99djwgkojBzeYS-eOqarNTrIpcdpA2YPCq/s1600/unirest.gif" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, it's not that I'd never encountered a unisex bathroom before. I've seen these single-pot affairs in tiny restaurants or the occasional gas station. However, in a retail store that size, one expects stalls. Lots and lots of stalls.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I turned my head side to side, from unisex bathroom to unisex bathroom. Like I said, I'd used them before. But surely a business this big contained many commodes -- in the unisex bathroom, I guess? What the hell was I getting myself into? A one-stall wonder? Or a friendly gathering? I didn't know what to do. I pictured myself entering a room full of men at urinals and women on toilets, all pausing from their task to lift a hand and wave "Hello!" as I walked in, a la Norm from <i>Cheers</i>. We'd then proceed to have jolly unisex conversations as we did our business.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But there was no getting around it. I had to pee. Of course I did. As I've said before, I'm a 47-year-old woman who possesses a bladder that's been cheerily pummeled by two fetuses. If I'm awake I have to pee. If I'm breathing I have to pee. Indeed, the situation had reached the point of no return, and I was one sneeze away from disaster there in aisle A-11. I had no idea what I'd find on the other side of either door. Women? Men? Jimmy Hoffa? <i>Well</i>, I thought, <i>this is just the world we live in now. I mean, Donald Trump has been elected president. Clearly, reality is broken</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So I pushed through the unisex bathroom door to find . . .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One toilet. One sink. One lock. It was, thank God, just a standard unisex restroom -- not the big potty party I'd envisioned.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I did my thing, washed up, and went back out to find a large crowd of women and men milling around and looking as worried and confused as I did minutes before. I was going to tell them all that they'd be OK, but then decided, nah. Why ruin the fun?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Though I enjoyed watching them meander about in bewilderment, I didn't stay long. To tell you the truth, after my own alarming adventure I just wanted to sit down -- somewhere other than a toilet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Yep</i>, I thought, <i>No wonder this place has a bar</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I walked away, I still couldn't fathom why a superstore large enough to produce its own clouds contained only two tiny restrooms. I had no beef at all with the "unisex" part -- I've never cared who uses what with what apparatus. But I will admit it perplexed me when there were no other facilities, at least in the front of the building. This type of thing might happen in California, mister. But here in Ohio, in a store that size, we require a little more guidance, as well as stalls.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Lots and lots of stalls. </span></div>
Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-59659116043744196782016-11-17T02:32:00.001-08:002016-11-17T02:32:03.514-08:00A Potty-Mouth's Ode to Summer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFmd1f_Jfmq8-N9X318fdDy6Iu8K0ndNMFaR8VdIYe2rmCn0oLEymmo0ljCFFKDIMS7u8075BmOq526zOR6nNV7_peyM9g6T-XzikzXqLKQZ9Qa1Om-11291zolBpa-S3k-p1-k-aJqcyq/s1600/snowman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFmd1f_Jfmq8-N9X318fdDy6Iu8K0ndNMFaR8VdIYe2rmCn0oLEymmo0ljCFFKDIMS7u8075BmOq526zOR6nNV7_peyM9g6T-XzikzXqLKQZ9Qa1Om-11291zolBpa-S3k-p1-k-aJqcyq/s400/snowman.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>(post copyright 2016, Dawn Weber)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Hey Summer, why are you leaving?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Summer, please. I beg you. Don't go,<br />And leave me with old man Winter,<br />That guy, I tell ya, he blows.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He tries very hard to kill me,<br />He's a nasty old fart, there's no doubt,<br />With a heart just as hard as an iceberg,<br />A soul that's as cold as a trout.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He spits freezing rain at my eyeballs,<br />He coats the roadways with black ice,<br />My fingers turn into claws from,<br />Gripping the wheel like a vise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">His skies are as gray as old ashes,<br />His trees look dead, leaves are gone,<br />With views like this out the window,<br />Really, I think, why go on?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yet again I must pack up my flip-flops,<br />Again I will pack up my smile,<br />I'll put them both inside boxes,<br />Forget they exist for a while.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Eating becomes a religion,<br />Our Crock Pots bubble like vats,<br />Cream cheese turns into a food group,<br />No wonder we all get so fat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I hope the shorts inside my closet,<br />Will fit my big butt in May,<br />After six months of snacking,<br />And laying around every day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What else can you do in the winter?<br />Except for eat, sleep and sob,<br />I might as well go into work,<br />I can be miserable at my job.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But Summer, you are a beauty,<br />You're steamy, hot, sexy and fun,<br />You make us want to strip naked,<br />And burn ourselves brown in the sun.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm sorry I cursed you in August,<br />When the temp was a hundred and four,<br />See, my ass was stuck to the car seat,<br />And my arm had been seared to the door.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Still, that's no reason to leave me,<br />With nothing but wind, ice and snow,<br />My nostrils froze shut from December till May,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Summer, please. I beg you. Don't go!</span></div>
Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-28338691613626182872016-09-30T05:15:00.000-07:002016-09-30T05:36:10.803-07:00Oldsters Avoiding Coasters<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">(post copyright 2016, Dawn Weber)</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The husband and I recently took our children on a trip to an amusement park, or as I like to call it, World's Best Place to Die a Violent Death.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The kids were really stoked to go. I too was excited at the prospect of blowing the better part of our savings account to stand and sweat profusely with hundreds of alarming-looking people in two-hour lines. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For 40 second rides.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What fun!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I sound a little bitter, don't I? I'm not sure what happened to me. When I was young, my stomach used to leap at the thought of roller coasters. The very sight of them meant joy! Laughter! Adventure!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My stomach still leaps at the sight of coasters. But these days it's from fear! Nausea! Possible bloodshed!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I guess that's because back in the day, I, like most kids, thought I was invincible. I had no fear of death. Didn't even think about it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Not so now. As an adult, I devote great swaths of time to thinking about death, worrying about death, and avoiding things that can cause death, such as 67-mph, 170-foot roller coasters.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nonetheless, my husband and I recently found ourselves staring down exactly that, a giant steel contraption designed to nearly kill us. It was one of the park's newest rides, and our children, the Princess and the Hobo, had rushed to join the throngs already waiting with instructions to text when they'd finished. I felt a little worried about the kids riding all the insane-looking attractions, but there was no changing their minds. They'd been talking about this trip for the last year. Or two.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The husband turned to me. "What do you want to go on first?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"How about that one?" I said, indicating a fast-moving circular ride.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He shook his head. "It spins. You know I can't spin -- it makes me throw up. What about this?" he said, pointing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My eyes followed his finger up, up, way the hell up, to a vertical attraction with a top so high in the sky I couldn't see it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"No way am I riding something that's covered by clouds," I told him. "What about the Ferris wheel? It's tall, but I can see the top."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He shrugged, said, "OK," and we, the oldsters, joined our fellow oldsters already in line. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Considering the fact that I've ridden Ferris wheels since approximately age four, it seemed like a safe bet to me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But alas, no.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The view from the ground had tricked me. Once on the ride, I realized this was one deceiving-looking, pulse-racing, heart-stoppingly tall Ferris wheel. At the top, it stopped and swayed in the wind for what seemed like forever as I looked out across Lake Erie, located Canada, and mightily regretted leaving my anxiety meds in the car.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After 18 light-headed and tragically prescription-free minutes, we'd survived our spin on the oldster wheel and found ourselves back on terra firma. The kids met us at the bottom on the way to another coaster from a list they'd made and told us we were free to go on another ride.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You can imagine my excitement.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Great," I said. "What now?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We looked to the left -- spinning rides. We looked to the right -- sky-high rides. We looked straight ahead: Model T cars creeping along a winding path at a cool 5 mph. Oldster central.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Bingo.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Want to ride the Model Ts?" he asked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I guess," I said, "but I get to drive,"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We ambled over and stood in another long line with dozens more alarming-looking people. It was worth it though, because once in the car, we had a thrilling trip full of many exciting moments, such as driving past fake rocks, and going under a fake bridge.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We climbed out of our fake car, and I realized that this adventure-filled, action-packed morning had made me hungry. And thirsty.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I turned to the husband. "Where's the old-timey saloon? I mean, it's noon. Almost. Sort of."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Stumbling around in a geezerly fashion, we finally located that staple of every amusement park, that beloved mecca for parents -- the old-West saloon. Texting ensued, and the kids joined us for lunch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"You guys having fun?" I asked, sipping my ten-dollar, 8-ounce cup of beer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">They nodded. "Only four more roller coasters," said the Princess, "and we'll get to every one on our list!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I groaned inwardly because, well, math. Four more coasters = four more hours. It could also equal four more beers, but I didn't feel like taking out a second mortgage on the house.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The kids wolfed down burgers as the husband and I consumed our overpriced crappy nachos and Bud Lights.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"See you guys later," said the Hobo. "We'll text when we're done."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Sounds good," I replied, mentally adding <i>Great spending time with ya!,</i> even though I knew spending time with them at amusement parks = getting dragged onto roller coasters. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now, I could tell you that the husband and I then had some kind of inspirational epiphany wherein we decided to run after the kids in a mad-cap, Brady Bunch fashion and go on every death-defying ride with them. I could tell you that, but it would be a lie.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Epiphanies: you've come to the wrong blog.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The truth of the matter is we, the senior citizens, finished lunch, then trundled around the park avoiding coasters, eating overpriced food, and getting into whatever geezer-based activities we could find. Eventually -- and somewhat blessedly -- a major thunderstorm hit, at which time we re-grouped as a family and rushed to the car. At the same time as about 8,000 other people.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I admit it: I was glad to leave. What can I say? As a child, there was no place I'd rather go than an amusement park.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now, I'd rather go <i>anyplace other than</i> an amusement park.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But you raise your kids, and you do these things.You go to places like amusement parks because you love them and it's a way to spend time together as a family. They grow so fast and you blink and before you know it, they're teenagers who really don't want to be around you anymore. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />So you come up with ways to <i>force </i>them to be around you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As we sat in traffic, I looked out at the coasters lining the stormy skyline. Part of me felt guilty that we didn't ride all those crazy things with the kids. But hey -- we are not the Brady Bunch. We're the Webers. He vomits and I hyperventilate and that is who we are.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We showed up anyway.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And that's pretty much the definition of family, isn't it? Doing things half of you don't want to do.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Just to make the other half happy.</span></div>
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Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-70062945001668879212016-09-16T05:35:00.003-07:002016-09-16T05:35:45.928-07:00Ma'am This<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>(post copyright 2016, Dawn Weber)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So there I was, just trying to buy some overpriced chicken fingers, when it happened: the horrible. The terrible. The unthinkable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Will that be all today, sir?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sir?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sir?!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">SIR??!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I peeked down into my shirt. You know, just to be sure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Nope," I said, "not a sir."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The cashier's face had already turned bright red. "I am so sorry."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He was a new employee, judging by his shaky hands and the scowling manager behind him. Still inwardly stung, I waved off apologies because, hey -- I know how it is. I've worn the greasy shoes of fast food myself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"No problem," I said. "Not a big deal."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Relief washed over his face. "We'll have that up for you in a minute. Can I have your name, please?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I turned to the drink machine. "Just call me 'Sir.'"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">While waiting for my meal, I thought about the whole exchange. I'd been called many things in my day: jerk, idiot and most recently, asshole, thanks to a stranger on vacation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Here's a fun fact: In some states, pedestrians do not have the right of way, even at marked pedestrian crosswalks. Remember this the next time you're in Hilton Head.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The more you know.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghPM4uwHrsCh5Wdq3wXp7l1AqvEf1mylqhjuiqHEFNPWmNcMJKJqbYaTQibvO-7eNaJnzTG4rGvE_chHX7YZMBgYhQ5UgCi6QJzuxTYB0wBbAgatfJalhUVFAoci61iEAz-ehA7CO6CeSi/s1600/moreknow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghPM4uwHrsCh5Wdq3wXp7l1AqvEf1mylqhjuiqHEFNPWmNcMJKJqbYaTQibvO-7eNaJnzTG4rGvE_chHX7YZMBgYhQ5UgCi6QJzuxTYB0wBbAgatfJalhUVFAoci61iEAz-ehA7CO6CeSi/s400/moreknow.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But even though I've been called those awful things and more, I've never, ever -- not once in my whole life -- been called sir.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ma'am, now, that's another story. Much to my great dismay, I've been in solid ma'am territory for a couple of decades, at least if you believe a particular security guard I see several times a day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Morning, ma'am!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Afternoon, ma'am!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Have a great night, ma'am!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ma'am this, pal. You're on thin ice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">With every ma'am he lobs my way, I grow older, I grow angrier. First ma'am of the day? My blood pressure rises and my right eye begins to twitch. Next ma'am -- wrinkles spread, collagen breaks down. Lunchtime ma'am? Osteoporosis. After that, the effects are cumulative, spiraling out of control.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">By 5 p.m., I'm a goner.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because to me, the word "ma'am" is a derogatory gender-based term meaning "Haggard old woman who owns too many cats." That's why I never call a female ma'am, even when I see one who has clearly gone over Ma'am Mountain. She can be a wrinkled, stooped, gray-haired granny struggling with an extra large bag of Meow Mix in the pet food aisle, and I will not call her ma'am. I will instead ask, "Can I help you with that, miss?" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You know, after hoisting my own Meow Mix into the cart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Sir? Sir?" the cashier called me, grinning sheepishly and interrupting my cat food reverie.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I walked to the counter as he pushed the tray forward. "Sorry about that again," he said. "Thanks for being a good sport."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I nodded and smiled and turned away. Hey. He was giving me food -- he could call me anything he wants.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And sir beats the hell out of ma'am.</span></div>
Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-32343430112377269092016-08-26T06:00:00.000-07:002016-08-26T06:02:48.875-07:00OK - You Can Go Back to School Now!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(post copyright 2016, Dawn Weber)</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></i>
OK you can go back to school now!<br />
Oh crap - did I say that out loud?<br />
For months, I've had no alone time,<br />
One is company, but three's a crowd.<br />
<br />
You guys ate your weight in Doritos,<br />
And I tried hard to stock up on Lay's,<br />
Plus those gross Little Debbie snack cakes,<br />
I buy in bulk - and they're gone the next day.<br />
<br />
There are zero cups in the cupboard,<br />
They're spread through the rooms far and wide,<br />
You fill them up with blue Gatorade,<br />
Take one sip and then set them aside.<br />
<br />
The house is a total disaster,<br />
It looks like a big bomb went off,<br />
But not your average explosion,<br />
Rather, one made of shirts and flip-flops.<br />
<br />
The PlayStation's nearly on fire,<br />
You're on it from morning till night,<br />
And though it's the middle of summer,<br />
Your skin tone is Wonder-Bread White.<br />
<br />
"There's nothing to do! I'm so bored!"<br />
I hear it again and again,<br />
That's funny - I see a lot that needs done,<br />
Perhaps you need a suggestion.<br />
<br />
I'd like to be able to relax,<br />
Maybe sip coffee solo till nine,<br />
And later on, if the day goes right,<br />
I could open a nice box of wine.<br />
<br />
Oh yes - couches, coffee and wine,<br />
Those are three of my favorite things,<br />
But thanks to your constant presence,<br />
I haven't indulged since late spring.<br />
<br />
I love you both - you're adorable,<br />
I live my whole life for you,<br />
It's just that you're always around here,<br />
I'm not even alone when I poo.<br />
<br />
So yeah. You can go back to school now,<br />
You're cute, but you're making me crazy,<br />
There on the couch with your phones in your hands,<br />
Finding new ways to be lazy.<br />
<br />Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-63601026109234233772016-08-12T03:33:00.000-07:002016-08-12T03:33:30.776-07:00Don't Make Me Come Back From Vacation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(</span><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">post copyright 2016, Dawn Weber)</span></i><br />
<br />
Don't make me come back from vacation,<br />
I don't want to! No, you can't force me,<br />
To go back to life as I knew it,<br />
All that stress, and pesky reality.<br />
<br />
What's this thing you call an 'alarm clock?'<br />
You have set it for 6 a.m.<br />
It's clear that you have forgotten,<br />
I prefer not to rise until ten.<br />
<br />
You say I must go back to work now,<br />
That I have to "bring home the big money,"<br />
You're trying to make me start laughing,<br />
But your joke isn't really that funny.<br />
<br />
You tell me I'll need to wear pants,<br />
Which are tight and scratchy and awful,<br />
Who needs that kind of restriction?<br />
Swimsuits are so much more comfortable.<br />
<br />
And I'll have to get into a car,<br />
Then drive for an hour in traffic,<br />
For the past week it's only been bicycles,<br />
Or walks on the beach in my bare feet.<br />
<br />
At the office there'll be tasks to finish,<br />
Things the boss-man will tell me to do,<br />
But I much prefer doing quite nothing,<br />
I bet that you feel that way, too.<br />
<br />
Still, you're saying we can't drink at noon,<br />
And we can't have a Mai Tai for lunch,<br />
A beer even though it's a Tuesday,<br />
Or a nice Bloody Mary for brunch.<br />
<br />
At home we cannot buy fresh shrimp,<br />
Or pick oranges right from the tree,<br />
A world without citrus and shellfish?<br />
That ain't no kind of life for me.<br />
<br />
And there won't be any more napping<br />
A time set aside just to snore,<br />
But how can one get through the day,<br />
Without sleeping from 2 until 4?<br />
<br />
Now I realize I have a mortgage,<br />
And bills which I really should pay,<br />
But couldn't I live in a camper,<br />
At that RV park right on the bay?<br />
<br />
Please don't make me come back from vacation,<br />
I promise you things will be just great,<br />
If you go on ahead home without me,<br />
I'll see you up there in a month or eight.Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-64772855290738177952016-07-22T05:10:00.000-07:002016-07-22T05:10:41.529-07:00I'm Packing and It's Not What You Think<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(post copyright 2016, Dawn Weber)</span></i><div>
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There are certain words you don't expect to hear together.<br /><br />“Mm . . . nothing like a good McDonald’s picante sauce packet!”<br /><br />Those are nine of them.<br /><br />They came from the cubicle next door. Thinking I'd heard things, I peeked around the wall and saw that my co-worker, Tim, was indeed sucking on a picante sauce packet left over from his breakfast burrito. <br /><br />You may remember <a href="http://lightenupweber.blogspot.com/2014/08/sht-my-co-worker-says.html">Tim from years such as 2014: my worried-yet-affable, possible zombie co-worker who regularly shouts things like “My skin’s melting off!” and “I think my brain stem just snapped!”</a> After that, nothing he says could really alarm me. <br /><br />And considering we were at work, sauce packet snacks aren't exactly surprising. The office is a veritable wasteland of sad, rejected food, a place where leftovers go to die a moldy, forgotten death in the communal fridge.<br /><br />Hey. I do it, too -- I admit it. I eat a lot of questionable things in the office, and no, sadly, that isn't a euphemism for anything. The list of foods -- if you can call them foods -- I’ve consumed in my soul-killing cubicle ranks as nothing short of pathetic. Soggy salad, last week’s donuts, Halloween candy from the Bush administration -- for shit’s sake, I've eaten fruit at work. Now that’s rock bottom. <br /><br />It's all because I’m a packer. <br /><br />Yes, as it was in elementary school, so it is now: there are two types of people in this world -- buyers and packers. Buyers tend to have money, while packers generally don't, and I'm a packer from way back-er. <br /><br />My husband, on the other hand, under the impression that we are the Rockefellers, dines out every day. He is a buyer, and for this, I give him endless grief.<br /><br />“Well, well, well,” I say, perusing the day’s receipts. “I see you ate lunch out again today.”<br /><br /><div>
He glares at me over his glasses. “I did. What about it?”<br /><br />“Still. Wendy’s again -- and you bought a large pop,” I say. “What are we, the Kardashians?”<br /><br />He rolls his eyes. “I had a burger and small fries. That’s not exactly fancy.”<br /><br />I beg to differ, dear. I beg to differ. <br /><br />And with the $8.99 he spends at restaurants several days a week, I could purchase any number of depressing food items. Crackers, cans of soup, clumps of grass -- you name it. <br /><br />Sometimes I wish I could bring myself to buy my meals each day. But it’s been 40 years, and I am too far gone. Inside, I’m still a poor kid from greater Youngstown, and the proverbial steel mill could close at any time as I sit with my soggy peanut butter sandwich in last year’s Scooby Doo lunch box, while the rich kids stroll by with trays full of hot pizza and those amazing chocolate peanut butter bars.</div>
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Bastard buyers.</div>
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<br />I guess I just can't see spending a mortgage payment on lunch each month when there’s perfectly good leftover green Jello in the fridge from my colonoscopy three weeks ago. I mean, yum. <br /><br />Once a poor packer kid, always a poor packer kid.<br /><br />Still, I think fondly of the husband’s delicious Wendy’s burger and fries now as I dine on said Jello, yogurt, and an apple, all of which taste like poverty. Misery. </div>
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Disappointment.<br /><br />In fact, pass that packet, Tim.<br /><br />I am starving. </div>
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Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-20063435099666862592016-06-30T18:19:00.000-07:002016-06-30T18:19:00.039-07:00Who Gives a Sh*t? It's Friday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6TySmjVXLqy769vsDzuEJNYSGFggS9HHP9I_0gOhcjEd8pe0l3JYnaspJwqH3EybfwMIT1RUabqbtclw4vsJ7qvHn2LC_ez3lAfCSEkH45jhjQahCrfJ_62OtAEAhVYUZ6sUnex_4ETuE/s1600/Friday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6TySmjVXLqy769vsDzuEJNYSGFggS9HHP9I_0gOhcjEd8pe0l3JYnaspJwqH3EybfwMIT1RUabqbtclw4vsJ7qvHn2LC_ez3lAfCSEkH45jhjQahCrfJ_62OtAEAhVYUZ6sUnex_4ETuE/s400/Friday.jpg" width="311" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>(post copyright 2016, Dawn Weber)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Alarm goes off at 6 a.m.,<br />You get up - 6:30,<br />Do you worry? No, you don't,<br />Who gives a shit? It's Friday.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Coffee, bathroom, brush your teeth,<br />Shower? If you have to,<br />More effort than it's probably worth,<br />And there will be no hairdo.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Grab some Dockers, put them back,<br />Pull on jeans instead,<br />They're lucky that you're wearing pants,<br />That you got out of bed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Start the car up, back it out,<br />Drive on down the driveway,<br />Not much traffic on the road,<br />When you work on Friday.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You feel all alone out there,<br />Without jerks beside you,<br />Wish they were there. Wish you were home,<br />Or better yet - Oahu.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Slouch into your cubicle,<br />Look at all your email,<br />Depressing, so you close it out,<br />Proceed to paint your toenails.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Eleven a.m. is time for lunch,<br />Why? Because you said so,<br />When you work on Fridays,<br /><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">That is just the way the day goes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Slip back in at 1 p.m.,<br />Slide into your desk chair,<br />Sign onto email and IM,<br />As if you never left there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Supervisor's making rounds,<br />Pretend to be real busy,<br />By shuffling papers at your desk,<br />And opening Word docs quickly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Actively doing nothing,<br />Is an underrated skill set,<br />It helps to look annoyed and stressed,<br />While secretly surfing the internet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The afternoon drags on and on,<br />Thank God for your smartphone,<br />Facebook, Twitter, Bejeweled Blitz,<br />Till you can finally go home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Quitting time is 5 p.m.,<br />You leave your desk - 4:30,<br />Everyone's gone, even the boss,<br />They don't give a shit. It's Friday.</span></div>
Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-18858000041098619362016-06-17T06:15:00.000-07:002016-06-17T06:15:11.707-07:00How to Get a Colonoscopy in 14 Anxiety-Ridden Steps<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsY5SF2U5JZhUsZ617nEnUXuPFEbElrewhZ1LpShRtSj_dXEG2g6MRKFV0tbtY1ZwYkvz7mFw5DYtbyWG9aTe4s72srFQ7M7H-eEtlzg_KBsKa1PIgkatwhkJoUQ_ProIIVjKWyBcD_AdY/s1600/colono.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsY5SF2U5JZhUsZ617nEnUXuPFEbElrewhZ1LpShRtSj_dXEG2g6MRKFV0tbtY1ZwYkvz7mFw5DYtbyWG9aTe4s72srFQ7M7H-eEtlzg_KBsKa1PIgkatwhkJoUQ_ProIIVjKWyBcD_AdY/s400/colono.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(post copyright 2016, Dawn Weber)</span></i></div>
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It happens to almost everyone eventually. You're going along living your life, dreaming your dreams and merrily walking around without ever having a tube inserted in your personal regions, when all of a sudden . . .<br />
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BAM!<br />
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It's time for your first colonoscopy.<br />
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Yes, despite your best efforts to avoid such a situation, chances are you will one day find your brown eye staring down the business end of a colonoscope -- a long flexible tube with a small camera -- either due to your age or the fact that you're having GI problems. Here at the Center for Too Much Information (CTMI), we've put together a handy guide for women in the latter situation, as we, um, have a woman "friend" who had this experience. Read on:</div>
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<ul>
<li>Suffer painful symptoms for several weeks. Dread telling any doctors about it, because you think it will lead to medical staff poking around in your coal hole, although you will soon find out you're wrong about this. Be sure to begin worrying incessantly and imagining the worst.</li>
</ul>
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<li>Google your symptoms on WebMD, otherwise known as www.It'sProbablyFatal.com. Obtain lots of information, all of which basically boils down to "Could be nothing. Could be cancer." Proceed to have nervous breakdown.</li>
</ul>
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<li>A month later at your annual OB/GYN appointment, discuss problems with physician. Although he used to briefly examine your rear prison purse in addition to your front lady garden, he tells you insurance companies no longer allow him to open the back door until after age 50. "It's probably nothing. You'll be fine," he says, recommending fiber and water (which you already consume) and sending you on your way.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Two months later, head to family doctor and tell her about ongoing problems. "It's probably nothing. You'll be fine," she says, also prescribing water and fiber (which again, you already consume). She doesn't examine area either. You're finding out that oddly, no one wants to look inside your butt, even when you're paying them.</li>
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<ul>
<li>Symptoms continue for several more months, so you make an appointment with a specialist, who is concerned enough to prescribe a colonoscopy. You are relieved that someone will finally be looking at your balloon knot. You are horrified that someone will finally be looking at your balloon knot. And snaking a hose all the way up your Hershey Highway.</li>
</ul>
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<li>As colonoscopy approaches, begin dreaming of snakes -- in doctor's offices, in toilets, in your underpants. For good measure, make repeated visits to WebMD/It'sProbablyFatal.com and continue to scare yourself silly. Chant <i>It's probably nothing. You'll be fine</i> until you fall asleep.</li>
</ul>
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<li>On day before procedure, limit diet to such satisfying items as water, tea and lemonade. Obtain can of chicken broth. This is your lunch. Later that afternoon, open giant prescription bottle of MoviPrep, a.k.a. Colon Blow. This is your dinner.</li>
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<li>Gather fully charged iPad, ten-pack of toilet paper and a change of underwear. Sprint to bathroom and strap yourself to toilet, for it will be your new home. Over the next eight hours, you will excrete digested food from as far back as the Carter administration exiting your rear at speeds approaching the sound barrier. At times you think you will be done with your terrifying mission. But lo -- you will be wrong.</li>
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<li>Around midnight, attempt to sleep. Note the word "attempt" here, because thanks to the fact that you can't eat, drink, or take any of your usual fun array of sleeping pills, you will be wide awake, starving and riddled with worry. Your partner's snoring keeps you up, so you head to the couch, where your growling stomach keeps you up. Seriously contemplate eating throw pillows.</li>
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<li>Arrive at hospital the next morning and check in. Thanks to anxiety and eight hours of tossing and turning, you're half asleep, yet still conscious enough to be scared, well, shit-less. (See what we did there?)</li>
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<ul>
<li>Allow medical staff to prep you for procedure, and smile weakly at their attempts to cheer you up with poo-related humor. You're desperately trying to forget the fact that they'll soon be doing things to you that are almost illegal in several states, so you ask for anesthesia. The nurse obliges, but you feel nothing at first and tell her, "I don't think you gave me enough. I'm-really-nervous-so-you'll-probably-need-to-inject-more-'cause-I-don't-feel-a-thing-and . . . Zzzzz."</li>
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<li>Wake up groggy and half-naked with faces all around you, as if you've slept through your first orgy. The doctor says everything looks fine, and you're suddenly very happy because of the great news, not to mention the awesome anesthesia. Despite your liaison with the pooper python, you feel no pain in your ass. In fact, you feel no pain at all.</li>
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<ul>
<li>Head into recovery area. A nurse checks your vitals and says that you have to pass a large amount of gas before she can let you go. You cheerfully oblige her request in front of God and everybody, because you know this is the quickest route to food. Also you are still high as a kite.</li>
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<li>Giggle as spouse helps you dress and ties your shoes. As you haven't eaten since dinnertime two days ago, demand that he takes you to Taco Bell <i>at once!</i> and <i>post-haste!</i> He reminds you that you've recently drank 64 ounces of MoviPrep/Colon Blow. Hmm. Taco Bell . . . Colon Blow. Even in your purple haze, you realize this is not a wise combination, so he takes you to Bob Evans, where you consume everything on the breakfast menu. And the contents of the butter dish. With a spoon.</li>
</ul>
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Well, there you have it, folks, a handy guide for your first trip down the old dirt road. You can see that a colonoscopy is a pain-free way to lose a little weight and freak way the hell out about nothing, as well as a chance to get naked, sleep and fart.<br />
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In front of total strangers.<br />
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<i>We at the Center for Too Much Information do not advise doing what our, um, "friend" did. Between the start of the problem and and the symptoms being waved off by two doctors, it was eight months before "she" found a specialist who took her concerns seriously. Remember, some insurance companies don't even require referrals for specialists -- hers did not. And as another dear friend once said, if something isn't right, get checked. It's probably nothing. You'll be fine.<br /><br />Butt (see what we did there?) . . .<br /><br />. . . it's better to know for sure. </i></div>
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Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-84213192675332840072016-05-31T04:57:00.000-07:002016-05-31T04:57:44.081-07:00Ode to a Traffic Jam<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">(copyright 2016, Dawn Weber)</i></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I want to go home,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm feeling quite tragic,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because just like always,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am stuck in traffic.</span></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-971facb9-06a6-eaa0-7e94-e2a6a420472c"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ten thousand people,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On the road tonight,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In front and behind me,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">All ready to fight.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Guy up ahead goes,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Fifty-five in a 70,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ticking everyone off -</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ain't nobody happy. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Texty McSwervy,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On my driver’s side,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Won't look up from his phone,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Almost hits me broadside.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The asshole behind me,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Rides right on my tail,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Causing me to think thoughts,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That would land me in jail.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Brake lights up ahead,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We slow to a stop,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Could be an accident,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I watch out for cops.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A backup this bad,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You think, “Wreck!” Or “Fire!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But it usually turns out</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To be just a flat tire.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A turtle strolls past me,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On the berm at my right,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm jealous ‘cause he is,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Almost home for the night.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The hub sends a text,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Asking where I am,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What can I say?</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'll get there when I can.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'd rather be with him,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sipping a beer,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But I'll be on I-70,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For the next 50 years.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yeah my beer's probably warm,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And my dinner, it's cold,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">While I sit in a Honda,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Getting nowhere - but old.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-26475332880346889482016-05-20T04:09:00.001-07:002016-05-20T04:09:12.136-07:00Long Live Mediocrity. And Turtles<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>(post copyright 2016, Dawn Weber)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I've recently become a decent person. I'm not quite sure how this happened.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I didn't mean to. My plan was to remain a mediocre person, filling my spare time with such strenuous activities as eating, sleeping and online shopping. I know this sounds lazy and self-involved. I'm OK with that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But somehow, I've become the type of woman who occasionally volunteers at church, pitches in at school events, and makes meals for older folks. I've become the type of woman who sometimes helps people.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Please understand. I'm not bragging here. I've always stood back -- way back -- staring in wonderment at room mothers, shelter volunteers, soup kitchen workers and such who spend their free time caring for others. I want to tell these people, "Go home! Sit down! Open up a nice box of wine!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But they're too busy being wonderful to listen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have no idea why I've been helping people lately. Aside from my family and friends, I don't even like people.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I blame the interstate and Donald Trump for that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Animals are another story. Over the years, I've given countless dogs, cats, frogs, baby birds, etc., the benefit of my fumbling assistance, whether they wanted it or not. I have saved so many turtles by carrying them across the road that my husband calls me the Patron Saint of Turtles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, If you're not very concerned about dogs, cats, frogs, baby birds, turtles on the road, etc., know this: you're not alone. And don't worry. I'm concerned enough for all of us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222;">I guess my new-found benevolence toward humans could be due to impending geezer-hood. It seems to me that as certain women age and move toward retirement, they spend more and more time volunteering. I'm retiring in 52 months and 11 days -- not that I'm keeping track. I have very big napping plans for the year 2020. I need to stop giving a shit real soon.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Perhaps the biggest problem I have with volunteering is exhaustion. Philanthropy -- and getting off the couch in general -- makes me tired, and constantly interferes with my dream of sitting around and sleeping. Also, it seems like helping others just leads to more helping of others. If I'm not careful, I'm going to end up as the ancient volunteer lady in the front lobby of every hospital who nods off and can't work the desk phone. That is not who I want to be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I want to be the ancient lady who nods off in a hammock and can't work her own phone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And when I retire on Tuesday, September 29, 2020 (at 5:30 p.m. -- not that I'm keeping track) I plan to go home, sit down, open up a nice box of wine, and only get up to carry the occasional turtle across the road.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's good to have goals.</span></div>
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Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-17715070569637810292016-04-29T04:46:00.000-07:002016-04-29T04:46:53.539-07:00World's Only Redneck Liberal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">(post copyright 2016, Dawn Weber)</i></div>
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Sometimes it's hard to be liberal,<br />In a wee-tiny rural town,<br />There's really no doubt about it,<br />I'm the only tree-hugger around.<br /><br />Election Day in 2008,<br />I hit the town polls at dawn,<br />To cast my vote for the black guy,<br />Though I dare not tell anyone.<br /><br />"Too late," I thought as I entered,<br />A parking lot filled up with trucks,<br />"My vote was canceled 30-odd times,<br />Before I even woke up."<br /><br />Somehow he won it despite this,<br />Next time he won it again,<br />And so it's been eight years of,<br />Ducking from the Republicans.<br /><br />But I own a Volkswagen Beetle,<br />Which might as well be a float,<br />That says, "Shoot me, I'm a liberal!"<br />As I drive past the cows and the goats.<br /><br />See me signing all the petitions,<br />And giving my cash to hobos,<br />Watch me sobbing my hippie-chick eyes out,<br />At dead polar bear videos.<br /><br />This aside, I'm just as rural,<br />As any-a-one of them,<br />I like beer and pickups and, Lord help me,<br />I’m a closeted Luke Bryan fan.<br /><br />But they don't know what to make of me,<br />They don't really know what to say,<br />I'm the world's only redneck liberal,<br />I think they wish I'd go away.<br /><br />So I generally keep my big mouth shut,<br />I try very hard to keep peace,<br />No one will change their mind anyway,<br />No one -- but especially me.<br /><br />Still, this worrisome prospect of Trump,<br />Really has me scratching my head,<br />He's a sexist, unqualified, bigot . . .<br />Oh wait. Never mind. I just got it.<br /><br />I would not say that to them though,<br />I hate noise and shouting and drama,<br />It's sure been a rough eight years though,<br />And for that I say, Thanks, Obama.</span><br /><div>
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Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-59812150893323963522016-03-30T02:35:00.000-07:002016-04-07T05:21:21.980-07:00My 20-Pound Geriatric Thug Purse<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>(post copyright 2016, Dawn Weber)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mom jeans, sensible shoes, giant purse. You probably wouldn't peg me for a drug smuggler. But that's what I've become.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Of course, you'd have to define "drugs" in a geriatric, ibuprofen-and-probiotic sense, and "smuggler" as one who carries around perfectly legal prescriptions and over-the-counter supplements, but still -- you get the point. My purse has become a big bag o' meds.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This realization hit me recently as I walked into work wondering why the hell my handbag was so heavy. As I plunked it down on the counter of my soul-killing cubicle, a bottle of Aleve and pack of multivitamins poked from the interior, and I realized the reason for its heft. Pain relievers. Supplements.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Drugs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have pills to make my back feel better. Pills to help me sleep better. Pills to grow my hair. Pills to keep me regular. Pills to improve my joint health. And more.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So much more.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now before you call me a pill popper and I hear from all you granola hippies out there about the benefits of good diets and healthy habits and kefir yogurt that smells like ass, let me say this: I do all that. I am something of a granola hippy myself, and regularly manage to annoy my family by making them exercise and eat lots of fruits and vegetables.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(But never kefir yogurt that smells like ass.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">All this medicine is a relatively new development. You see, I've hurt myself. By sitting. In a chair.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #222222;">Yep, you read that right. I'm having sacroiliac joint problems due largely to the fact that I sit for 12 hours most days a week, thanks to ten-hour workdays and two-hour round-trip commutes. Oh sure, I exercise on my breaks and days off, but that's a lot of sitting.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You know, they say sitting is the new smoking. But still. I can't believe I've reached an age where I've actually injured myself by sitting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In a damn chair.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As a kid, I remember groaning and rolling my eyes in the back seat of the car as my grandmother rode in the front and complained about how long rides hurt her back. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>"C'mon, Gran!" I thought. "You're just sitting there!"</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And now, these days . . .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Ha ha haaaa!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Did you hear that? She's getting a big kick out of this up there. Not funny, Gran.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I see a physical therapist, a chiropractor, and an MD for the back problems. My days off each week have become eight-hour geezer events consisting solely of doctor's appointments. And the back issue isn't even all of what's going on with me. I will spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say it involves the aforementioned probiotics and lots of whole grain foods.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Whoops. Sorry. In typical senior citizen fashion, I can see that I'm oversharing and bemoaning my many and various maladies, as well as forgetting the original point, which was . . . what? Oh yes, my huge, ridiculous, drug-filled purse.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The other evening, as I pawed through its contents looking for the glucosamine pills so I could swallow them down with my evening Metamucil, I realized that not so long ago, things were very different for me. In the 80s and 90s, I owned tiny handbags that contained only a few items. And on most weekends, I didn't even carry a purse -- all I needed was my go-to checklist of money, ID, keys. That's it. I was out the door, and onto the dance floor. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Not so much anymore.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now I have a behemoth bag filled with an entirely different, way longer checklist, consisting of (but not limited to) prescriptions. Supplements. Vitamins. Wrinkle cream. Pain relievers. Sunscreen. Fiber chews.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In fact, all my purse really needs is an AARP card, a handful of lightly used tissues, and five or six stale butterscotch candies, fuzzy and forgotten at the bottom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Geezer level: complete.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Ha ha haaaa!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yeah. There she goes again. If I squint, I can just about see her. A short, smiling old woman with a cardigan, bright blue eyes, and a perpetually aching back.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Not to mention one giant purse.</span></div>
Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-56798785916021784432016-03-08T04:32:00.000-08:002016-03-08T04:32:45.346-08:00Go Home, March. You're Drunk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>(post copyright 2016, Dawn Weber)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On Monday, it's sixty-seven,<br />On Tuesday, it's twenty-one,<br />I don't like to gripe about weather,<br />But go home, March. You are drunk.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Look - it's starting to snow now,<br />Or no. That is freezing rain,<br />But wait, I think the sun's coming out,<br />And poof! It is gone again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Four seasons, one day - just crazy,<br />I feel like I'm losing my mind,<br />But March, you're the one who is schizo,<br />Though my sanity's not far behind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The birds are back, feeling confused,<br />They're shaking their feathery heads,<br />"This is bullshit. Why'd I come home?"<br />They say as they freeze in their nests.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I leave the house in three layers,<br />By ten I am down to shirtsleeves,<br />At two I put on some shorts 'cause,<br />The temp's up by 30 degrees.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That's how March goes in the Midwest,<br />That's March in your average town,<br />Better stay in the house until April,<br />'Cause March is one scary-ass clown.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">With winds that constantly blow me,</span></span><br /><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">And not in any fun way,</span></span><br /><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">I lie awake fearing tornadoes,</span></span><br /><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Shovel snow the very next day.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">March, you're dirty and flirty,<br />Indeed you're a terrible tease,<br />You lead us on with the sunshine,<br />Then merrily knock down our trees.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm done with you, March. I mean it,<br />You've got me in a foul funk,<br />With your rain-sun-sleet-snow and windstorms,<br />Yes, go home, March. You are drunk.</span></div>
Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-72586754407796212932016-02-26T07:21:00.000-08:002016-02-26T07:21:22.298-08:00The Charm Bracelet: Book Review and Giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Books. One of the best ways to cope with winter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yes, in typical Midwestern fashion, I'm getting through February with a combination of grim determination, <i>Walking Dead</i> binging, and lots and lots of reading. So much reading, in fact, that I'm running out of books, as well as the money required to buy said books.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because of this literary poverty, I was pleasantly surprised to be contacted by the publicity team of Viola Shipman to review an advance copy of the author's debut novel, <i>The Charm Bracelet</i>. Viola Shipman is actually the pseudonym of one of my long-time favorite writers, Wade Rouse, who chose the name as well as the book's title as an homage to his late grandmothers, avid fans of charm bracelets. Rouse has authored several great non-fiction books, including <i>It's All Relative</i> and <i>I'm Not the Biggest Bitch in This Relationship</i>, <a href="http://lightenupweber.blogspot.com/2011/02/im-giving-away-wade-rouse-hope-hes-ok.html">both</a> of <a href="http://lightenupweber.blogspot.com/2011/08/crazy-bitch-bloggy-doggy-giveaway.html">which</a> of I reviewed here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>The Charm Bracelet</i> arrived at my house last week, and the winter air seemed to lift as I opened the package and turned the pages of this warm novel, the multi-generational story of artsy Lauren, driven Arden, and their aging matriarch, the irrepressible Lolly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As its title suggests, the book tells the tales of the characters' lives and ancestry via the charms of a bracelet. From the hot air balloon charm, ("to a life filled with adventure"), to the tiara charm ("to a life in which you get to feel like a queen, even for a day"), Rouse weaves the three interlocked stories wonderfully, dipping in and out of each woman's life with ease and grace.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The effortless pace of this novel impressed me the most. I found myself midway through *The Charm Bracelet before I realized it, filled with hope that Lauren would find her passion, Arden would find some peace, and Lolly would once again find her family.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm always in awe of non-fiction writers who cross over into fiction. It's difficult enough to compose stories from real life, but the writing is made easier simply because the events really happened, and the characters actually existed.<br /><br />The fiction author's job, however, is to craft a believable story out of thin air, hundreds of pages of plot, setting and characters pulled from the far reaches of the imagination, or in this case, the charms of a bracelet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, I write only non-fiction for specific reasons, and those are: A) I'm lazy; and B) the act of creating fiction -- an entire world from nothing -- seems impossible to me. But Rouse (a.k.a. Shipman) writes his first novel masterfully, with his finger on the pulse of three very different women who reconnect thanks to some links of chain, bits of metal and the tenacity of the buoyant, unforgettable Lolly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Warm up your spring with this wonderful, utterly charming (see what I did there?) book, on sale March 22.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>One reader will win a copy of The Charm Bracelet, courtesy of Thomas Dunne Books, a division of St. Martin's Press. Comment below to enter, then check back in the comments next weekend to see the lucky winner.<br />Winner: please contact me with your snail mail address at <a href="mailto:webs672002@gmail.com" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">webs672002@</a><a href="mailto:webs672002@gmail.com" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">gmail.com</a>.</i></span></div>
Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1064585589281123688.post-35805096578832340912016-02-12T05:13:00.000-08:002016-02-12T05:13:13.776-08:00Too Cool for Coats<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>(post copyright 2016, Dawn Weber)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He's a straight-A student. He took talented and gifted classes. He scores in the 96th percentile or higher on all standardized tests.<br /><br />Nonetheless, I'm starting to doubt his intelligence, because it is 18 degrees outside, and he's not wearing a coat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So I ask him, "Hobo, why aren't you wearing a coat?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But my son, in all his talented and gifted wisdom, informs me that a coat isn't necessary when has a sweatshirt.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"I don't need a coat when I'm wearing a hoodie," he mumbles, shuffling out the door.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This conversation takes place at 6:30 b.c. --before coffee -- and I don't yet have the wherewithal to collar and force outerwear on the boy. It's Friday, my one weekday off, and he's clearly used to me not being there. Monday through Thursday he can amble out the door wearing whatever he wants. Which is apparently close to nothing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I guess a Hobo cares not what he wears. And I call him that for a reason. He eschews fashion and, up until recently, avoided any sort of personal hygiene. Smart as he is, he sometimes needs direction when it comes to matters of wardrobe.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's not just him. There's a trend, nay, a downright epidemic of coat-free adolescents all across America. I see them when I drop the boy off at school, walking in hordes, shivering and shaking and hustling frantically into the school building because it's what? Freaking cold outside.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, as my loyal readers (all seven of you! I love you guys!) may remember <a href="http://lightenupweber.blogspot.com/2015/01/hey-you-get-off-of-my-couch.html">from my post last year</a>, I feel very <i>Get off my lawn!</i> about the new-fangled "cold-weather cancel" in which school is called simply because of chilly temperatures. Like I said, when I grew up, classes were only canceled on account of snowy, icy roads - never cold weather alone. I spent many a sub-zero morning cursing this fact in our driveway, as my hair froze solid under the hood of a wonderful invention called -- you guessed it -- a coat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">However, after last year's post, a few of my teacher friends informed me that the reason for the cold-weather cancel isn't part of the rampant wussification of American kids, as I'd guessed. It's because of unfortunate children, many of whom don't have -- or aren't wearing -- coats or warm clothing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, my heart goes out to any child who truly doesn't own appropriate outer-ware. In fact, send those kids to our house. We have several unused coats available.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But after five years of fighting with my own kids to wear jackets, I'd be willing to bet good money that many of the children who don't wear coats aren't doing so because of a lack of money. They're doing it to follow the crowd. To look cool. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />And they look cool, alright. Downright frozen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">They are just too cool for coats.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But as the Hobo informed me, when one has a hoodie, one need not be concerned with vagaries such as "wind chill," "frost bite" and "certain death," no sir. One can just march out the door, ride to school and shuffle inside, unless it's canceled on account of cold weather and kids without coats and . . .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">. . . Wait a minute. Wait just a minute.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Fact one: School gets canceled because kids aren't wearing coats.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Fact two: My kid refuses to wear a coat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Mystery: solved.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That boy is smarter than I thought.</span></div>
Dawn@Lighten Up!http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133noreply@blogger.com16