Would someone PLEASE think of the vegetables?!?!

You know the "DO NOT ACCEPT CHECKS FROM THIS PERSON" sign behind the counter at the grocery store? I think there should be one that restricts repeat offenders from buying fresh fruit and vegetables. And I think I should be on it.

It's not just the willful neglect of the veggies, no. It's the full awareness, in the moment, at the grocery store, that someone is going to die a slowwww, painful death in the veggie drawer. The way to hell may be paved with good intentions, but the way to unreasonable amounts of mold is paved with 10 for $10 deals on cilantro. So, whyyyyy do I buy this stuff? Because. I know I am supposed to cook fresh vegetables. And I am supposed to want to cook fresh vegetables. And the beautiful pictures in the magazines don't start with, "Steam one pound of frozen peas"...

So, I'm sorry, Fresh Ginger. Really, for your own good, I will leave you looking glorious among the Swiss chard and radishes, instead of our usual pattern of leaving you neglected in the fridge basement looking like an infected appendix.

If a VAA (Vegetable Abusers Anonymous) group exists, I'll attend a meeting. In the meantime, will you smell this? I can't tell if it's a pear or an avocado...

These are the days that could drive you to drink.

Let me say, for the record, I have amazing kids. Really. The three of them are the kinds of kids that inspire you to sport "my kid is better than your kid" bumper stickers all over your car. But, for the love of all that is holy, sometimes the combination of their ages and personalities are like a chemistry experiment gone wrong.

The girls, ages "just turned 12" and "almost 13", giggle almost constantly. Until they're not giggling, at which time the volume becomes shrill and epic. I'm thinking of booking them for voiceovers for the Emergency Broadcast System tests. Both of them are incredibly bright, but 80% of their communication has been reduced to "AWK-WARD!", "shut up! No, YOU shut up!", and "ohmygoshhhhh, he's soooooooo cute! *giggle, giggle, giggle, giggle*.

The boy, who is "double digits", has discovered that the only sure-fire way to get the attention of the two human tea kettles is to inflict harm and then run. You may catch more flies with sugar, as the saying goes, but you catch more attention from your sisters with spite and hair pulling. When that doesn't work (or after they catch him), he resigns himself to a verbal tape loop of "heydadguesswhat" or "heyyouknowwhatelse". You find yourself praying for a temporary bout of hearling loss.  But, you have to be careful with what you wish for on this one. My husband and I have both developed an internal clock that is set to sound after three and a half minutes, and could rival anything produced by Timex. If one of us has not heard him for that alloted amount of time, we need to look for him. Quickly. He has been known to dismantle appliances, share candy with the dog, and wedge himself into small spaces for the purpose of "fixing" something for me. You find yourself saying things to him that you'd never have imagined saying to another human being:

"No, the cat does NOT want a Spiderman sticker for her shirt. Yes, I'm sure."

"No, it's not safe to crawl into the dryer. Even if you want to fix it for me. Even if you take your shoes off first. Yes, I'm sure."

"No, I don't need you to clip the bristles off of my hairbrush with a pair of toenail clippers. Yes, I'm sure."

So, as one girl drags the other across the floor by her foot, or the boy hijacks a screwdriver to get to work on disassembling the humidifier, I sit. And try to stay present in the moment, knowing that someday I'll likely ache to relive these times. And try, with all my might, not to threaten to rip one of their arms off and beat the other one with it...

Things I Think I Should Be Allowed To Do

1) Beat you where you stand if you say, "well, things could be worse...". I AM AWARE that things could be worse. Much worse. In fact, things have been worse. Yes, I could have a sick child. Or I could've just lost my job. Or any number of horrible things that happen to people. But, for the love of gawd, can't I just whine for a damn minute? If, at the end of sixty seconds, I am still whining and tooting my horn for my own little pity party, then - by all means - remind me that things could be worse. Until then, please just nod supportively and occasionally throw in a "oh, wowwwwww" every 12 seconds or so.

2) Dictate that ALL public restrooms should have a hook on the door for your purse. Seriously. This isn't that big of a request. You don't want to set all that on the floor, and you sure as hell don't want to hold it on your lap. Hooks on the backs of the stall doors, people... I'm just sayin'...

3) Push you off your recumbant bike. Unless you qualify for an exemption which, in my mind, includes (and IS limited to):
 - You are geriatric, and a recumbant bike allows you to stay active.
 - You have physical issues that prohibit you from riding a regular bike.I'm thinking in terms of a bad back or knee problems. Having your head up your ass doesn't count.
 - You are being chased by something life threatening, and it is the only mode of transportation available.

My issue with this is a) I can't see you and if I run you over, it will be my fault, and b) you take ENTIRELY too much time in the intersection on a left-hand turn. Because you are LAYING DOWN. If you don't qualify for an exemption, and you own a recumbant bike just to "be cool", that would be an epic fail on your part. And, if I get my way, you're getting pushed off.

4)  Open-handed SLAP complete strangers who tip poorly. Here's the thing: people who work in the service industry *work hard*. Don't start in on me - I know we all work hard; but it's just that people in the service industry work just as hard or harder. If you don't have the extra cash to do it right, don't go out. If you put $5 down for a $40 dinner bill, one of us should get to b!+ch-slap you.

Perhaps, someday, I (or my children... or my children's children...) will realize the dream of aggressively acting upon the things that annoy me. In the meantime, I hope someone will hold my purse. I need to pee. And push some dumbass off his bike...

A FIRST! (Or - PO'd at the B&N)

Well... here we go. I'm blogging now. I feel so... official. And *maybe* just a little bit closer to hipness.

A few disclaimers, before we proceed:
- I am VERY new at this (we're talking minutes here, people). I've created this blog (partially for spite... we'll get to that) just to get some of things out of my head, but I don't profess to be remotely blog savvy. So - bear with me.
- I have a very liberal interpretation of the rules of English. And I like ellipses (...).
- I tend to perseverate on my pet peeves. If I happen to capture your attention long enough to read this consistently, you may find yourself thinking, "why is she still whining about...?". Because I can. And I need to. And you may just start subscribing to my way of thinking. Or you may curse the internet for allowing someone with only a slight modicum of ability to create an electronic rant. We'll see.

The catalyst for this blog was an incident that happened quite some time ago - but it still, to this day, chaps my hide. Long story, short - Barnes and Noble irritated me beyond reasoning. I nearly fired them. At this point, B&N is both on probation AND getting the stink eye.

I wanted to look through books about teaching adults - specifically teaching adults pre-GED Reading and Language Arts. But I'm not picky - just help a sister out. Throw me a bone with some lesson plan ideas because, at this point, I was pretty much winging it. (On a side note... yes, I did get a Master's degree in Adult Education and Training. In my case, this means that I have is a ton of theory and an ounce of experience). So, yeah - I wanted to benefit from the tried and true plans of those who've forged the trail before me. However, my plan was thwarted because - and I hope you're sitting down for this - BARNES AND NOBLE DOESN'T STOCK BOOKS ON TEACHING ADULTS! As a matter of fact, they don't carry books on teaching, period! Sure, you can find workbooks to homeschool 5th graders. You can find the (4-inch thick, BTW) GED self-study guide. You can even find "The GED for Dummies" (don't get me started on the self-image issues inherent in *that* one). But methods for teaching adult students, or strategies for helping students get their GED? Nah. No room in the store. We're busy selling dog food cookbooks, and the GI Joe Field Guide, and Chicken Soup for every freakin' kind of soul you could subscribe to. Gah. So, I went off, ad nauseum, to my dear husband, who has figured out that it's usually best to let these things run its course. But, at the time, I do believe I said, "I'd sooooooo blog about this... if I had a blog." And thus, the seed was planted.

And here we are, some time later, beginning a new journey. Because, hey, why not? Somebody's gotta be pissed about such things...