pet peeves

I gotta get a few things of my chest here.....I have been holding this in for way to long and it's driving me insane.

There is an epidemic going around this country, and it's called poor-grammar-itis, it is a second cousin to improper spelling syndrome. I don't know why it bothers me so much, it just does. I want to believe it's partly due to laziness, I really do, but sometimes I'm just not sure. As a former teacher, I know for a fact that's it's being taught in schools. Still, it amazes me how many people make spelling errors.

Sure, there are a few tricky words that can get us from time to time, like: lose and loose, definitely and definately, weird and wierd.

What about, I couldn't care less vs. I could care less....what the hell does that even mean?

Oh, and don't get me started on the improper use of there, their and they're. Didn't we learn this in grade school?

It is incorrect grammar to say "I feel badly"....to feel "badly" means that your sense of touch is out of whack. The proper way to say it is, "I feel bad."

Your and you're seem like they would be the easiest words to keep straight, yet so many people use the improper context...

What about when people say, "Where are you at?".....Or, when someone says, "I cook good." You don't cook good, you cook well.

Shall we talk for a minute about words that aren't even words: upside, irregardless, you's, and my personal favorite--alot. Now why do people spell it as one word? We don't write alittle, abunch, apizza, astrawberry, so why do you write alot??? You aholes.

Well, that's all for now. I feel better. How do you feel?

My son is a Hoosier

Henry has a new love, more of an obsession really.

Wait for it.......

Are you ready?

Nascar.

Disclaimer: If you are someone who likes Nascar, you may want to stop reading. Furthermore, you may want to re-consider being friends with me, (kidding....kind of.)

So, the whole thing came to be in a very organic nature. Ben was flipping through the channels the other day and he stopped at the channel he thought was the Cardinal game, turned out, it was Nascar. By the time he figured it out, it was too late, Henry was hooked. Seemed innocent enough. After all, he loves cars and anything with wheels really, so it would make sense that he would love Nascar.

I never really knew much about Nascar, don't have any friends that watch it, never been to a race. The only thing I knew was that I used to like the movie Days of Thunder. So, Ben downloaded a documentary style video about Nascar and watched it with Henry. Thus began my extreme dislike for the sport (I use the word sport loosely.) To be fair, it's not the racing of cars that bothers me, that part is kind of exciting. I have no problem with the athletes (again, I use the word athlete loosely.) I guess what bothers me are the "clientele" of fans who follow the sport. I hate to sound like jerk, but, dear God, I have never seem such a display of hoosier-ism (my made up word) in my life.

Several of the men had mullets. There was one point in the video where they showed the "campground" where the fans stayed during the races; and I swear I saw more than one confederate flag flying. Not to mention, many of the camps looked like they had just been hit by a tornado. They showed children running around in diapers, bare footed. While, I can only assume, their parents were at the next camp getting loaded with friends. Throw in a couple butt cheeks, and some Levi's and it 's worse than Walmart on a Friday night.

book worms

I don't why I think this is so funny, I guess you just have to know my husband--hopefully everyone else finds the humor in it.

Like any successful couple, Ben and I have many differences, but just the right balance of compliments too. One of our biggest differences is my love for reading, and his, well, dislike for reading anything other than comic books. I can't really say it's his fault. He said his parents never read to him while he was growing up, so he never developed the "love." We agreed from the beginning that we were going to read to Henry every day so he would love to read when he was older. Lets, just say that the only one who reads to him everyday is me, but again, not Ben's fault, right?

One of Ben's biggest complaints about me is that I read too much. I will pick my book up during commercial breaks and read it. I also have to read every night before going to bed. Ben is usually asleep before I get 10 pages in.

So, anyway.....the other night I had gone to bed a few minutes before him so I could get a head start on my chapter. He came into the room and said, "oh, good, you're reading, I going to read my novel too."

I gave him a confused look. Since when did Ben read? He slid open his night stand and pulled out a comic book pricing guide with a big smile on his face. "That's your novel?" I asked. "Yes, it has words on it, and I enjoy reading it. I have all those old comic books in the basement, I want to see what they're worth." He replied.

I just bust out laughing. I couldn't decide what was more funny--the fact that he called his pricing book a novel, or the fact that he did it with a straight face.

Clearly, you have to know Ben and his silly sense of humor.

It's official----I'm insane

Unemployment has some definite advantages: sleeping in, wearing sweats all day, not having to follow a schedule or answer to anybody-just to name a few. The biggest advantage has been getting to stay home with Henry everyday. This past year has been blissful in that regard. I only hope one day he will look back on it as fondly as I do.

How about the disadvantages; well, I certainly miss my paycheck, I miss the socializing and adult conversation (no offense Henry), but mostly, I miss my purpose, and I never realized that until just a few days ago. I know many women who are content with staying home with their children, and while I have loved being with my child everyday, I kept thinking that something was drastically missing.

I love the idea of being a stay at home mom. Having play dates with other kids, socializing with other moms at the park, playing outside most of the day.....And while it all sounded good in theory, in reality, it wasn't nearly that great. Most of my friends work, and the women who I would see at the park all seemed a little, how should I say it, peculiar, and their children seemed equally strange.

When I really got down to it, I realized that I missed working, I missed following a schedule, more importantly, I missed that purpose that I was talking about earlier. By that, I mean, a purpose other than as a mother and a wife. I needed to feel important again, I needed to feel like I'm something other than Henry's momma or Ben's wife.

So, after several jilted attempts at finding a job, I've decided that I need to take on a whole new career path. I've decided I want to go back to school to become a dental hygienist. It's perfect for me, because I love working with people, not working weekends, and I'll get to make a great salary to top it off. I applied at a local college and got accepted, I start in the fall. In short, I'll be taking classes around the clock for the next 2 years. I will be crazy busy, but hopefully I won't mind.

Am I nervous about going back to school at 31? You betcha--but with great fear, comes great rewards. As it turns out, I never took Chemistry in College and I need that before I can start the program in the fall, so this summer, I'm taking Chemistry 101 at a community college. I'll probably be the oldest person in the class by a country mile, but who cares, right? Maybe one of them will make my day and ask me to buy them beer.

new neighbors......

As I may, or may not have mentioned in previous posts, we moved into a new house recently; right before Thanksgiving to be exact. Meeting your new neighbors is always an important part of moving into a new neighborhood. It turned out that winter is not conducive to socializing, as most people try to leave their house as little as possible in the cold. I am one of those people.

Alas, the weather is getting warmer, and people are getting out of the house. Finally, it's time to put some names to the faces we have been waving at in passing for the past several months.

So yesterday, Henry and I were outside playing in the yard when suddenly a middle to late aged women came walking towards us while walking her dog. She was waving enthusiastically, and grinning from ear to ear. She introduced herself and told us that she lived in the house caddy corner behind us. We did the usual dance: names, jobs, spouses, etc. And then she introduced her dog.....

"And this is Abby" she said.

"Oh" I replied. With a thousand thoughts running through my mind, remembering that our next door neighbors, the people who live directly in front of her, warned us about her barking dog when we first moved in.

And they were right. That damn dog barks the whole time she is outside, and she is outside A LOT.

So I was trying to be polite, when suddenly she looked at our front door and said. "oh, what a pretty dog." She was referring to our husky, Sydney, who was laying on the other side of the door. Quietly minding her own business. "That must be the dog I hear all the time."

Oh. No. She. Didn't.

I just gave her a confused look and said, "I don't think it's her, she is very mellow, hardly ever barks." Which is true, in the 8 years Ben has had her, I don't think she's barked more than 10 times.

She gave me a confused look right back. It was as if she had no idea her dog barked all the live long day.

In my head I had a hundred thoughts chasing towards me, trying to force their way out of my mouth. "What the hell, lady," being the first question. Followed by; "it's your dog that keeps everyone up at night, not mine.....Maybe your dog needs a bark collar, or a poisonous bone to chew on.....Your pink shorts do not match your navy blue t-shirt.....Spandex is a privilege, not a right, even Michael Phelps wears looser clothing."-And the thoughts just kept coming.

Did I tell her any of these things? Nope, not a one. And why? Because I'm nice.....

And clearly she is delusional.

Sadness

I found out the other day than an old friend from high school was just diagnosed with a unique form of Lymphoma. She is a mother to 2 small girls, a wife, and a great teacher in her community. Although it has literally been years since I have seen her last, I cannot stop thinking about her. We used to be friends in HS, but I guess it was more of an acquaintance type of friendship-we were in home room together, had a few classes together and we used to go out to lunch together almost everyday our Senior year. Still, after HS was over, we pretty much lost track of each other. I think our paths crossed a couple of times in college, but that was about it. Then, a few years ago, I joined FB, and all the sudden I reconnected with so many people who I had not seen in years; including her. It's awesome. Thank you God for whomever created that ever so addicting, yet ever so useful website.

To think, had it not been for FB, I probably would have never found out that my old friend from HS is fighting for her life right now. Luckily she has created a seperate website that is following her cancer story and it gives people the opportunity to talk to her and give her their support. It looks like she has lots of support.

Still, I am very sad for her and her family. I keep thinking about what I would do if it were me in the same situation. Would I be as optimistic as she is? Would I be able to maintain my personality like she does? Or, would I just want to crawl in a hole and feel sorry for myself? I guess, it's hard to know how you would react until you were in that situation. It's a place I hope I never have to be.

For now, I continue to pray for my friend daily and I hope that God can spare her in heaven because she has 2 little girls who need her here on Earth. I will never understand the inner working of our creator. I'm sure he knows what he's doing, but sometimes it's hard to see that from down here.

The Atlas Story

Every couple years my mother has a rummage sale, it's usually a 2 day thing, with several of my family members contributing. She has no problem finding items to put on her sales, mostly because she is a pack rat and saves everything. She calls them keepsakes, I call them junk. I am the exact opposite of my mother, I am very much a minimalist. I abhor clutter anywhere in my house, if it doesn't have an immediate place in the house, or it's not holiday decorations, it's toast.

Clearly, all of my mothers sentimental genes got passed onto my siblings.

This year I decided that I'm going to make the trip back to SD and put some items on the rummage. Since we moved into our new house in November, most of our items are already still packed in boxes. Because I was just trashing my mothers flaws, I feel it's fair to point out one of my biggest flaws; I like change, maybe a little too much if you're my husband. Every time I get the house decorated just the way I like it, I either want to move into a different house, or redecorate. So, my constant need for fresh and fashionable design made it easy to find quality items to sell on the rummage.

Back to the Atlas....

So, I was sitting in the office sorting through piles of novels to sell and I came across a couple of atlases, gifts our insurance agent had given us a while back. I remember thinking at the time what a strange gift it was. In the era of GPS, and blackberries, does anyone even use atlases anymore? I guess going through all of my old books that day made me feel a little reminiscent, because I picked up the atlas and starting turning through the pages, thinking back to a game my brother and I used to play when we were little.

We used to take an atlas and sort though it state by state, each picking out cities and landmarks from that state that we hoped to visit someday. We would also pick out different cities where we wanted to live someday. I would always come back to the same town in Oregon state; Astoria. Perhaps, it's because my favorite movie at the time Kindergarten Cop took place there and I thought it seemed like a beautiful place to live. Who knows where my thoughts come from, I swear they just pop into my head with no rhyme or reason to them. The point is, when I was 11 years old, I truly believed that I would visit all these places.

So, today I'm going through my atlas and jotting down all the places I want to visit with my family. Some, I've already been, some I have not. I owe it to that little girl to live out her dreams. I'm also holding onto that wish list of places I would like to someday live. If I have learned anything in my 31 years, it's that you never know where life will take you and maybe someday I might end up in Astoria, or San Francisco, or Aspen.

For now, I'm holding onto this atlas. Hopefully someday my own children might enjoy the game my brother and I used to play all those years ago. With nothing more that a dream in their hearts and all the ambition in the world to make those dreams come true.