Many moons ago before my husband left his corporate world to work with his hands he was VP of HR and he would hold training classes. These groups would be from around the country and for them to get to know one another he would always start with a fun exercise.
This is one I always liked.
You have to name 3 things about yourself, 1 must be a lie and the other 2 must be true.
So join me in this game today. Give me 3 things about you and let me decide. Check back in comments and I’ll let you know which one I think you told me is a lie.
Here are my 3. It’ll be easy if you’ve been reading me for any length of time.
1. I used to make cookies for a living and sold a couple of franchises of my company.
2. I am petrified of house cats.
3. I’m a heavy smoker always trying to quit.
Friday, March 12, 2010
TGIFriday Random Thoughts
There comes a time to retire. Will I know it when it gets here?
I watched something someone sent me with Barbara Walters. I admire what the woman has accomplished in a time when it was so much more difficult for women. She made it easy for the Katie Couric’s and Diane Sawyer’s to be nightly anchors. Her experience as an anchor was horrible from the man she worked with and no one was there to defend her. But she now appears so out of touch and I think it’s time to pass the torch. I imagine everyone close to her knows but who would say that to the Queen?
I can no longer watch Larry King because he has been so off his rocker game for so long it’s painful to sit and watch. He doesn’t listen, he asks insipid questions, and he knows nothing about most of the people he interviews which is apparent from his questions.
I saw him interviewing someone and it was so obvious he knew nothing about the book the guest was hawking; nothing about this guest’s life and that I knew more. He asked a question and the person had just discussed this 3 minutes before! After the guest was asked again he tilted his head and gave such a puzzled look at Larry as though to say, “hello we were just talking about that!” But he was polite and answered it yet again.
Larry is severely out of touch when has on guests that he doesn't know what they do or why they are a cult figure. Obviously never doing a prework before the show or else his memory is shot. The last time I watched Larry King I ended up screaming at my TV, which makes me look off my rocker as well.
My father is retired....sort of.
He worked his whole life. He was a proud blue collar man. He was a master plumber who had his own business and did commercial and industrial plumbing.
(malls, businesses, nuclear power plants etc)
He never had hobbies. It was work or his family.
All of his good friends have passed away. He used to golf but it was never an obsession for him. Then after he hurt his shoulder golfing was even out of the question for him.
So when it came time to retire he went crazy. His wife went crazier.
He would suggest to his wife to, “hey lets have a drink” and it would only be 11am.
He wanted to lunch and have a few cocktails most of the day.
His wife thought he’d become a fat drunk so she strongly suggested he get some sort of part time job or she would kill him.
He became a greeter at Wal-Mart. He loves giving the kids stickers and he really seems to enjoy it. But now I think its more habit than enjoyment. He was so sick recently and he insisted he had to go to work. WHY? He is 82. He stands in front of a door that is open more than closed and it is only 12 degrees outside. He can’t understand that maybe it’s time to just sit back and read and enjoy what is left of your life. He can’t though. Sometimes I wonder if maybe Dad thinks that if he stops working, he’ll stop period.
I always think I can do nothing all day until I actually get a day of no obligations. I can’t do it.
I was reading Mary this morning talk about her retirement and I have a feeling I’d be a bit like that myself. Oh you will never find me at Wal-mart but I know I’ll have to do something. I just hope I will be able to retire, that is looking slim these days.
You know how when you wash your car it never fails to immediately rain?
It seems to be the same for my floors now that I have a dog. Poor Izzy is 1 yr old now will I ever get used to all these changes? I washed the floors after work last night before the dog came back from doggy day care for the day. They looked fabulous until this morning. Her wet paws on dark wood floors leave beautiful marks all over a once clean floor. By the end of today it will look as though I never did them. Rain, mud and other fun stuff everywhere.
I know when I had a cleaning person I really appreciated her. I would tell her and Rick this all the time. I loved coming home from a few days on the road to a clean home. I didn’t have to spend the short time home doing housework. I could spend it doing laundry and time with hubby. I knew I was lucky to be able to afford this luxury and I thanked her ALL the time and thanked my lucky stars. Now that I no longer have that job and that money I have to clean my own home. I also know that sounds like privileged whining I get that so please don’t fire off a nasty gram to me. But I miss her.
I have come to realize I didn’t pay her enough. Oh I wouldn’t have told her that but God how I miss her. Really really miss her. How did she get my granite so shiny and not smudgy looking? I can’t seem to. How did she make that stove top shine like that? We have tried but it’s not the same. Once when I asked her about the countertop she laughed and said it was a secret. Smart woman. My tip to everyone is don’t get dark granite if you are anal retentive like me. I can see every finger print etc on the very dark color and I am always walking by and wiping it. It’s my quirk I know. Drives me crazy.
Hubby misses her too because he does toilets and tubs. He’s very good at them too.
We figured out long ago that since he loves a sparkling bathroom that is his job to make sparkle. Until she came into our lives that was how the chores were split.
And he likes it…well to a point, he too misses Olga. And he usually will yell that out loud to no one in particular while he is on his knees scrubbing the toilet. It always makes me laugh.
The easy stuff he sucks at. He won’t move anything to dust but dust around it.
Again that drives me nuts. You can see the dust UNDER the television and when I point that out to him he says, “no one can see that.”
"Hello I just did and YES they can".
He says I’m too anal about it so after all these years we each have our own chores and that works out well for us. What he likes to do and does well I would so prefer not to do. So I guess I’ve got it made that at least he shares in the household chores as he should.
I know a lot of men don’t.
One thing he doesn’t do anymore is laundry and for 2 very good reasons.
When we first moved in together he did laundry. One day he went into the bedroom and picked up a sweater laying on the floor. I threw it on the chair but it fell off the arm. So he assumed it needed to be washed. (more like aired out due to being in a bar and it was smokey) He washed and dried it. He came into the bedroom and held it up and began to apologize profusely. This lovely shade of kelly green lambs wool sweater that I had only worn twice was now the size of a Barbie Doll sweater. I have a sister who was a size 0 and it was too small for her. My boobs alone are a large sweater! He saw the look on my face and again began apologizing. I asked why he would wash and DRY a wool sweater.
"I do mine all the time and they are fine." he says
"Do you ever read labels?"
He looked down and said, "No not usually. I’ll buy you a new one really I will."
The 2nd reason I do all the laundry is the major reason.
When we lived in the house with the spooky basement that is where our washer and dryer was. This basement freaked me out. I hated being down there and I always felt someone was there with me and yet the basement was empty.
It was a very very old house and this basement just gave me the heebie jeebies.
One day I told him that if he were to do all the laundry while we lived there I would do the laundry for the rest of his life! We shook on it.
Now when he wants to throw a load in and I catch him I run and say, "Nope I made a deal" and I do it immediately. Once when I was sick I heard the washer going after I woke from a nap. I asked him why he was doing the laundry and he told me that he was very capable of doing laundry he wasn’t incapacitated. “I know that but I promised.” I whined.
He laughed and did it anyways. I was too sick to fight him. But other than a couple of times I kept my promise.
You can tell that was one helluva scary basement!
I watched something someone sent me with Barbara Walters. I admire what the woman has accomplished in a time when it was so much more difficult for women. She made it easy for the Katie Couric’s and Diane Sawyer’s to be nightly anchors. Her experience as an anchor was horrible from the man she worked with and no one was there to defend her. But she now appears so out of touch and I think it’s time to pass the torch. I imagine everyone close to her knows but who would say that to the Queen?
I can no longer watch Larry King because he has been so off his r
I saw him interviewing someone and it was so obvious he knew nothing about the book the guest was hawking; nothing about this guest’s life and that I knew more. He asked a question and the person had just discussed this 3 minutes before! After the guest was asked again he tilted his head and gave such a puzzled look at Larry as though to say, “hello we were just talking about that!” But he was polite and answered it yet again.
Larry is severely out of touch when has on guests that he doesn't know what they do or why they are a cult figure. Obviously never doing a prework before the show or else his memory is shot. The last time I watched Larry King I ended up screaming at my TV, which makes me look off my rocker as well.
My father is retired....sort of.
He worked his whole life. He was a proud blue collar man. He was a master plumber who had his own business and did commercial and industrial plumbing.
(malls, businesses, nuclear power plants etc)
He never had hobbies. It was work or his family.
All of his good friends have passed away. He used to golf but it was never an obsession for him. Then after he hurt his shoulder golfing was even out of the question for him.
So when it came time to retire he went crazy. His wife went crazier.
He would suggest to his wife to, “hey lets have a drink” and it would only be 11am.
He wanted to lunch and have a few cocktails most of the day.
His wife thought he’d become a fat drunk so she strongly suggested he get some sort of part time job or she would kill him.
He became a greeter at Wal-Mart. He loves giving the kids stickers and he really seems to enjoy it. But now I think its more habit than enjoyment. He was so sick recently and he insisted he had to go to work. WHY? He is 82. He stands in front of a door that is open more than closed and it is only 12 degrees outside. He can’t understand that maybe it’s time to just sit back and read and enjoy what is left of your life. He can’t though. Sometimes I wonder if maybe Dad thinks that if he stops working, he’ll stop period.
I always think I can do nothing all day until I actually get a day of no obligations. I can’t do it.
I was reading Mary this morning talk about her retirement and I have a feeling I’d be a bit like that myself. Oh you will never find me at Wal-mart but I know I’ll have to do something. I just hope I will be able to retire, that is looking slim these days.
You know how when you wash your car it never fails to immediately rain?
It seems to be the same for my floors now that I have a dog. Poor Izzy is 1 yr old now will I ever get used to all these changes? I washed the floors after work last night before the dog came back from doggy day care for the day. They looked fabulous until this morning. Her wet paws on dark wood floors leave beautiful marks all over a once clean floor. By the end of today it will look as though I never did them. Rain, mud and other fun stuff everywhere.
I know when I had a cleaning person I really appreciated her. I would tell her and Rick this all the time. I loved coming home from a few days on the road to a clean home. I didn’t have to spend the short time home doing housework. I could spend it doing laundry and time with hubby. I knew I was lucky to be able to afford this luxury and I thanked her ALL the time and thanked my lucky stars. Now that I no longer have that job and that money I have to clean my own home. I also know that sounds like privileged whining I get that so please don’t fire off a nasty gram to me. But I miss her.
I have come to realize I didn’t pay her enough. Oh I wouldn’t have told her that but God how I miss her. Really really miss her. How did she get my granite so shiny and not smudgy looking? I can’t seem to. How did she make that stove top shine like that? We have tried but it’s not the same. Once when I asked her about the countertop she laughed and said it was a secret. Smart woman. My tip to everyone is don’t get dark granite if you are anal retentive like me. I can see every finger print etc on the very dark color and I am always walking by and wiping it. It’s my quirk I know. Drives me crazy.
Hubby misses her too because he does toilets and tubs. He’s very good at them too.
We figured out long ago that since he loves a sparkling bathroom that is his job to make sparkle. Until she came into our lives that was how the chores were split.
And he likes it…well to a point, he too misses Olga. And he usually will yell that out loud to no one in particular while he is on his knees scrubbing the toilet. It always makes me laugh.
The easy stuff he sucks at. He won’t move anything to dust but dust around it.
Again that drives me nuts. You can see the dust UNDER the television and when I point that out to him he says, “no one can see that.”
"Hello I just did and YES they can".
He says I’m too anal about it so after all these years we each have our own chores and that works out well for us. What he likes to do and does well I would so prefer not to do. So I guess I’ve got it made that at least he shares in the household chores as he should.
I know a lot of men don’t.
One thing he doesn’t do anymore is laundry and for 2 very good reasons.
When we first moved in together he did laundry. One day he went into the bedroom and picked up a sweater laying on the floor. I threw it on the chair but it fell off the arm. So he assumed it needed to be washed. (more like aired out due to being in a bar and it was smokey) He washed and dried it. He came into the bedroom and held it up and began to apologize profusely. This lovely shade of kelly green lambs wool sweater that I had only worn twice was now the size of a Barbie Doll sweater. I have a sister who was a size 0 and it was too small for her. My boobs alone are a large sweater! He saw the look on my face and again began apologizing. I asked why he would wash and DRY a wool sweater.
"I do mine all the time and they are fine." he says
"Do you ever read labels?"
He looked down and said, "No not usually. I’ll buy you a new one really I will."
The 2nd reason I do all the laundry is the major reason.
When we lived in the house with the spooky basement that is where our washer and dryer was. This basement freaked me out. I hated being down there and I always felt someone was there with me and yet the basement was empty.
It was a very very old house and this basement just gave me the heebie jeebies.
One day I told him that if he were to do all the laundry while we lived there I would do the laundry for the rest of his life! We shook on it.
Now when he wants to throw a load in and I catch him I run and say, "Nope I made a deal" and I do it immediately. Once when I was sick I heard the washer going after I woke from a nap. I asked him why he was doing the laundry and he told me that he was very capable of doing laundry he wasn’t incapacitated. “I know that but I promised.” I whined.
He laughed and did it anyways. I was too sick to fight him. But other than a couple of times I kept my promise.
You can tell that was one helluva scary basement!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
All In The Family
Before I had any readers/followers I wrote this story about the people I love.
That would be My Crazy Loud Italian American family.
I thought I’d reach back into the ole archives and pull this one out.
Sadly every last embarrassing thing here is true.
You just can’t make up this kind of crazy!
After you read it you’ll see why it took me so long to introduce my husband to my extended family. Oh he knew my cousins, who were like siblings to me, but I kept him from the whole family and for a reason which you’ll see. So sit back pour yourself a cup of coffee, grab a biscotti and have a good laugh. And hey – be thankful they aren’t yours.
And don't be afraid to say what you feel - I know it's a crazy cast of characters!
Here ya go.....
That would be My Crazy Loud Italian American family.
I thought I’d reach back into the ole archives and pull this one out.
Sadly every last embarrassing thing here is true.
You just can’t make up this kind of crazy!
After you read it you’ll see why it took me so long to introduce my husband to my extended family. Oh he knew my cousins, who were like siblings to me, but I kept him from the whole family and for a reason which you’ll see. So sit back pour yourself a cup of coffee, grab a biscotti and have a good laugh. And hey – be thankful they aren’t yours.
And don't be afraid to say what you feel - I know it's a crazy cast of characters!
Here ya go.....
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
An Unpopular Entry
Yesterday as I was taking my lunch break of a whole 20 minutes the phone rang.
I work from home and I don't normally answer the home phone. If my office was located somewhere in a tall building downtown I couldn't answer my home phone during the day.
I'm still working just upstairs in an office at my own home.
(My office phone is a different line)
But since I was downstairs in the kitchen I grabbed the phone.
Here is what transpired -
Hello is this Margaret (insert last name) ?
Yes this is she.
I am calling to thank you for all your help in the Right to Life Campaign.
I think you have the wrong number sir.
No, I show you have been a supporter.
Sir, is this a joke or a new sales ploy by using lying as a new tactic?
I am and have NEVER been a help or a part of The Right to Life Campaign
I show that you have and we would like to thank you....
Sir, please take me off your calling list!
Why would you want to do that Margaret?
Sir,iIs this the organization that condemns Pro Choice and that Condones the Killing of anyone who disagrees with them? Is this the organization that condones and approves of capital punishment and the killing of human life as long as it is outside the womb? Is this the organization that believes those that disagree can be killed for any of your justifications? Do I have this correct?
Ah, err, okay well, no, some of what you say yes, but....
I said I think you have the wrong number sir, please take me off your calling list because I don't agree with your methods. I understand your point to a degree but seriously don't like your methods which are so similiar to terrorists it makes me ill. And now here you are lying to me about my involvement. Not good. I think it states somewhere I know you are familiar with that Thou Shall Not Lie. Or is that just sometimes?
I was livid and I know that sounds rude but he was lying to me and I was angry. I am sure he wishes I had not answered the phone during normal business hours yesterday.
Look I know this will have me losing followers.
I know that this may piss some off.
I just get so fired up when people tell me how to live my life.
I am a good, honest, kind, open minded person until you tell me I am a bad person for my beliefs. Then I get mad.
I am not a person who would make that choice but for the love of life I would NEVER kill anyone who didn't agree with me. I would never think less of them because I do not walk in their shoes. It is their choice. If that were the case I would have killed W, Cheney and their whole lot of liars and war criminals. I just think everyone should leave everyone else the hell alone.
No one is more righteous or deserving of anything. We were founded on the freedom to think the way we want to think, to pray or not pray to the God of our choice, to believe or not believe in him/her, and to be able to give our opinon without retributions.
Did everyone forget history?
If you don't believe in something then DON'T DO IT! I don't believe in guns, I have NO GUNS. Gee that was simple. I don't believe in the religion I was brought up in - I don't go to that church. How hard was that?
I do believe that if you believe in something so strongly then you and your loved ones discuss it and do what YOU BELIEVE TO BE BEST FOR YOU. I believe in womens equality and rights. I stress this to my nieces and nephews. Would I be disappointment if one of them becomes a Stepford wife or Chauvinist, sure but I did the best I could. I won't kill them or ridicule them or call them and harrass them or bring it up every damn time I see them. They know how I feel and I love them and let them live their life.
This is a non issue and I wish to everything I hold dear to me that people would stop trying to shove their crap down my throat. You don't want it - don't have one. You want your children to not have one - teach them!!!
My husband is an adopted child. He is so thankful that he was adopted because he met his birth mother and it was not an Oprah moment. The idea of her not making that choice is not lost on him. But he is thankful that her CHOICE was adoption. He still believes in free choice because that is what America is supposed to be. What it was and now it's not. No one should be made to feel shame or worthless. You don't know their story. I don't know a single woman who has done this as a form of birth control or with a nonchalance attitude.
I know of women who have had to make a horrible choice. One such woman was on birth control and she was also taking a very serious acne medication and was warned that she had to be very careful. If becoming pregnant this would not be a baby in human form. She showed me the photo's the doctor gave her. When she and her husband found out that even taking birth control pills faithfully she was pregnant she was torn. This ate at her 24/7 for a long time. This ripped them to shreds and back. This was not a decision that came lightly. She always cried, why?After the decision they were met with protestors screaming obsencties at them, throwing things at them and tugging at them. She was so fragile and they do this to her? I am thankful this woman didn't have to go to a back alley or die to have this done. But thankfully she had a choice. You may have wanted to carry this and then let the thing die. And I don't say "thing" lightly. But I saw these photo's. It was horrific. This was a decision she looked at from every angle trust me. (she has 2 children, one born after being off the medication)
So don't tell me it's okay to treat her poorly because of her choice. Don't tell me that it's okay to kill the doctor who helped her and her husband. Don't tell me your way is the only right way. That is only opinioin. And don't quote me scripture because that too is in interpretation. Don't hide behind your religion. You were born with the ability to know right from wrong. Use it. If this is wrong for you don't do it. But please don't kill someone.
And stop calling my house and stop making this a damn political issue.
It's a personal one. I am sick to death of people telling me what I can and can't do.
I was given free will. I am smart and I am kind. My choice is my mine. If we disagree that is fine. I will not lecture you or choose to not follow you or kill you. I expect the same respect. I will not call you to jam my beliefs down your throat. But this is my blog and I can say what I feel the need to say and ya'll can disagree it's okay. It's called America. Be thankful you have that choice.
Whew I feel better.....
I work from home and I don't normally answer the home phone. If my office was located somewhere in a tall building downtown I couldn't answer my home phone during the day.
I'm still working just upstairs in an office at my own home.
(My office phone is a different line)
But since I was downstairs in the kitchen I grabbed the phone.
Here is what transpired -
Hello is this Margaret (insert last name) ?
Yes this is she.
I am calling to thank you for all your help in the Right to Life Campaign.
I think you have the wrong number sir.
No, I show you have been a supporter.
Sir, is this a joke or a new sales ploy by using lying as a new tactic?
I am and have NEVER been a help or a part of The Right to Life Campaign
I show that you have and we would like to thank you....
Sir, please take me off your calling list!
Why would you want to do that Margaret?
Sir,iIs this the organization that condemns Pro Choice and that Condones the Killing of anyone who disagrees with them? Is this the organization that condones and approves of capital punishment and the killing of human life as long as it is outside the womb? Is this the organization that believes those that disagree can be killed for any of your justifications? Do I have this correct?
Ah, err, okay well, no, some of what you say yes, but....
I said I think you have the wrong number sir, please take me off your calling list because I don't agree with your methods. I understand your point to a degree but seriously don't like your methods which are so similiar to terrorists it makes me ill. And now here you are lying to me about my involvement. Not good. I think it states somewhere I know you are familiar with that Thou Shall Not Lie. Or is that just sometimes?
I was livid and I know that sounds rude but he was lying to me and I was angry. I am sure he wishes I had not answered the phone during normal business hours yesterday.
Look I know this will have me losing followers.
I know that this may piss some off.
I just get so fired up when people tell me how to live my life.
I am a good, honest, kind, open minded person until you tell me I am a bad person for my beliefs. Then I get mad.
I am not a person who would make that choice but for the love of life I would NEVER kill anyone who didn't agree with me. I would never think less of them because I do not walk in their shoes. It is their choice. If that were the case I would have killed W, Cheney and their whole lot of liars and war criminals. I just think everyone should leave everyone else the hell alone.
No one is more righteous or deserving of anything. We were founded on the freedom to think the way we want to think, to pray or not pray to the God of our choice, to believe or not believe in him/her, and to be able to give our opinon without retributions.
Did everyone forget history?
If you don't believe in something then DON'T DO IT! I don't believe in guns, I have NO GUNS. Gee that was simple. I don't believe in the religion I was brought up in - I don't go to that church. How hard was that?
I do believe that if you believe in something so strongly then you and your loved ones discuss it and do what YOU BELIEVE TO BE BEST FOR YOU. I believe in womens equality and rights. I stress this to my nieces and nephews. Would I be disappointment if one of them becomes a Stepford wife or Chauvinist, sure but I did the best I could. I won't kill them or ridicule them or call them and harrass them or bring it up every damn time I see them. They know how I feel and I love them and let them live their life.
This is a non issue and I wish to everything I hold dear to me that people would stop trying to shove their crap down my throat. You don't want it - don't have one. You want your children to not have one - teach them!!!
My husband is an adopted child. He is so thankful that he was adopted because he met his birth mother and it was not an Oprah moment. The idea of her not making that choice is not lost on him. But he is thankful that her CHOICE was adoption. He still believes in free choice because that is what America is supposed to be. What it was and now it's not. No one should be made to feel shame or worthless. You don't know their story. I don't know a single woman who has done this as a form of birth control or with a nonchalance attitude.
I know of women who have had to make a horrible choice. One such woman was on birth control and she was also taking a very serious acne medication and was warned that she had to be very careful. If becoming pregnant this would not be a baby in human form. She showed me the photo's the doctor gave her. When she and her husband found out that even taking birth control pills faithfully she was pregnant she was torn. This ate at her 24/7 for a long time. This ripped them to shreds and back. This was not a decision that came lightly. She always cried, why?After the decision they were met with protestors screaming obsencties at them, throwing things at them and tugging at them. She was so fragile and they do this to her? I am thankful this woman didn't have to go to a back alley or die to have this done. But thankfully she had a choice. You may have wanted to carry this and then let the thing die. And I don't say "thing" lightly. But I saw these photo's. It was horrific. This was a decision she looked at from every angle trust me. (she has 2 children, one born after being off the medication)
So don't tell me it's okay to treat her poorly because of her choice. Don't tell me that it's okay to kill the doctor who helped her and her husband. Don't tell me your way is the only right way. That is only opinioin. And don't quote me scripture because that too is in interpretation. Don't hide behind your religion. You were born with the ability to know right from wrong. Use it. If this is wrong for you don't do it. But please don't kill someone.
And stop calling my house and stop making this a damn political issue.
It's a personal one. I am sick to death of people telling me what I can and can't do.
I was given free will. I am smart and I am kind. My choice is my mine. If we disagree that is fine. I will not lecture you or choose to not follow you or kill you. I expect the same respect. I will not call you to jam my beliefs down your throat. But this is my blog and I can say what I feel the need to say and ya'll can disagree it's okay. It's called America. Be thankful you have that choice.
Whew I feel better.....
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
How I Got My Name
I get emails about my first name all the time.
I was asked yesterday why I have 3 names up there why not just pick one?
Well it appears that some prefer one over the other and I’m crazy enough not to care which one you use.
So here’s the rest of the story…..
It was not planned trust me.
Back in the Stone Age when I was born my parents being the ever good Italian Catholic parents wanted to have me baptized. However their church said, “Oh no you can’t have her baptized as Peggy.” My parents asked why and they were told that there was no Saint Peggy. (their church changed this rule a year later)
My mother loved the name Peggy. They knew that the nickname for Margaret was Peggy Meg, Maggie etc so they had to name me Margaret so that I could be baptized. Now if you hear my full name in Italian boy I can’t deny my heritage. (starting with Margherita) But you put Peggy in front of it and you think there may be a chance that something else snuck in there.
If you ever meet another old person named Peggy (and they are all old because only women of a certain age have that name) most are named Margaret.
I hated that name Margaret all through my childhood. When I went to Catechism classes the nuns would only call me Margaret. It reminded me of “dumb ole Margaret” on Dennis the Menace. (I know, most of you are too young to know that reference too) But trust me I hated the name Margaret as a child. And so did my Mom. So everyone called me Peggy.
Then in my senior year of high school I met my future ex-husband.
He said that Peggy didn’t suit me so could he call me Margaret.
Sure! Just call me was my thought!
When my youngest sister was 3 or 4 years old she asked me why he always called me that funny name. I told her it was my real name. She looked so confused and said, “NO, your name is Peggy.” The more I said that it wasn’t my name the more she got upset and then she began to cry. I was only 20-21 at the time but I figured out that this was upsetting and confusing to this poor little thing so I told her that he just liked to call me that. I told her it was in the same way that Daddy called her Jenner instead of Jennifer. So wisely she said, “But that name doesn’t sound like Peggy.” Oh brother this wasn’t going to be easy to explain.
Then as I went away to school and met others outside of high school and family it seemed more people didn’t care for Peggy. They would always find out my name was really Margaret or ask if it was really Margaret. Then immediately they would ask if they could call me Margaret. I was now used to it so I would say sure. Some people have a strong opinion on it and it would throw me for a loop. It became where all my friends called me Margaret but family and school friends knew me as Peggy.
At my last job my boss would only call me Peg. I would make jokes to her about it, like that sounds like a wooden leg, but she still insisted on calling me Peg. She would have my business cards sent to me and they would say Peg. When I was hired she had my email set up prior to me starting and it was Peg. So then everyone there called me Peg (wooden leg) and I got very used to that too. But there were a couple of people who I worked with that would ask me, “Is Margaret your real name?” And then next they would ask to call me that because they thought it suited me better. I always find that interesting. I have never thought when meeting someone that their name didn’t fit them.
Odd isn’t it?
Hello. Your name is Bob? Gee I don’t think that fits you may I call you Theordore?
What the hell? Did you ever think that? I know how names will take on someone you know. I know that when a friend wanted to name her new baby daughter a particular name I cringed because I knew someone with that name and she was a horrible little backstabbing troll. So that name to me always represented the troll. Thankfully her husband knew that woman too and that name was nixed. Whew!
The very first night I met Rick he asked if I had another name I went by.
I said yes, Margaret.
He said, I think that suits you much better may I call you Margaret?
Funny isn’t it that both really significant men in my life only call me Margaret?
Yet both always will introduce me to others as Peggy.
Last night I asked him if he remembered that conversation about my name. He said he did. I don’t recall him ever telling me why exactly it didn’t fit me. So I asked now.
He looked at me so seriously and said, “really? Peggy sounds like a kid don’t you think? You walked into that restaurant to meet me and you carried yourself like a classy strong confident woman. After talking to you for just a minute I thought that Margaret suited a classy strong woman better than a kids name.”
Okay I laughed and said, “I’ll sleep with you, you don’t have to suck up anymore hon.”
So that is how I have come to have 3 names up there on the top of the blog.
Everyone likes to call me something different. I answer to them all.
I have been asked if I have a preference. I don’t really. I think it sounds incredibly odd to hear Rick call me Peggy. Very strange. Think about it, if your significant other just started calling you a different name – weird right?
And over time some family members have gone to Margaret too and I find it cute. No mention of it they just did.
So apparently when I was young I was Peggy and now as an old broad I’m Margaret.
Either way I am a feisty old broad who will answer to most anything.
But here’s a tid bit I’ve never shared about names.
Both my husbands had the same first name!
Yep, that’s right I can’t scream out the wrong name in the heat of passion.
I was asked yesterday why I have 3 names up there why not just pick one?
Well it appears that some prefer one over the other and I’m crazy enough not to care which one you use.
So here’s the rest of the story…..
It was not planned trust me.
Back in the Stone Age when I was born my parents being the ever good Italian Catholic parents wanted to have me baptized. However their church said, “Oh no you can’t have her baptized as Peggy.” My parents asked why and they were told that there was no Saint Peggy. (their church changed this rule a year later)
My mother loved the name Peggy. They knew that the nickname for Margaret was Peggy Meg, Maggie etc so they had to name me Margaret so that I could be baptized. Now if you hear my full name in Italian boy I can’t deny my heritage. (starting with Margherita) But you put Peggy in front of it and you think there may be a chance that something else snuck in there.
If you ever meet another old person named Peggy (and they are all old because only women of a certain age have that name) most are named Margaret.
I hated that name Margaret all through my childhood. When I went to Catechism classes the nuns would only call me Margaret. It reminded me of “dumb ole Margaret” on Dennis the Menace. (I know, most of you are too young to know that reference too) But trust me I hated the name Margaret as a child. And so did my Mom. So everyone called me Peggy.
Then in my senior year of high school I met my future ex-husband.
He said that Peggy didn’t suit me so could he call me Margaret.
Sure! Just call me was my thought!
When my youngest sister was 3 or 4 years old she asked me why he always called me that funny name. I told her it was my real name. She looked so confused and said, “NO, your name is Peggy.” The more I said that it wasn’t my name the more she got upset and then she began to cry. I was only 20-21 at the time but I figured out that this was upsetting and confusing to this poor little thing so I told her that he just liked to call me that. I told her it was in the same way that Daddy called her Jenner instead of Jennifer. So wisely she said, “But that name doesn’t sound like Peggy.” Oh brother this wasn’t going to be easy to explain.
Then as I went away to school and met others outside of high school and family it seemed more people didn’t care for Peggy. They would always find out my name was really Margaret or ask if it was really Margaret. Then immediately they would ask if they could call me Margaret. I was now used to it so I would say sure. Some people have a strong opinion on it and it would throw me for a loop. It became where all my friends called me Margaret but family and school friends knew me as Peggy.
At my last job my boss would only call me Peg. I would make jokes to her about it, like that sounds like a wooden leg, but she still insisted on calling me Peg. She would have my business cards sent to me and they would say Peg. When I was hired she had my email set up prior to me starting and it was Peg. So then everyone there called me Peg (wooden leg) and I got very used to that too. But there were a couple of people who I worked with that would ask me, “Is Margaret your real name?” And then next they would ask to call me that because they thought it suited me better. I always find that interesting. I have never thought when meeting someone that their name didn’t fit them.
Odd isn’t it?
Hello. Your name is Bob? Gee I don’t think that fits you may I call you Theordore?
What the hell? Did you ever think that? I know how names will take on someone you know. I know that when a friend wanted to name her new baby daughter a particular name I cringed because I knew someone with that name and she was a horrible little backstabbing troll. So that name to me always represented the troll. Thankfully her husband knew that woman too and that name was nixed. Whew!
The very first night I met Rick he asked if I had another name I went by.
I said yes, Margaret.
He said, I think that suits you much better may I call you Margaret?
Funny isn’t it that both really significant men in my life only call me Margaret?
Yet both always will introduce me to others as Peggy.
Last night I asked him if he remembered that conversation about my name. He said he did. I don’t recall him ever telling me why exactly it didn’t fit me. So I asked now.
He looked at me so seriously and said, “really? Peggy sounds like a kid don’t you think? You walked into that restaurant to meet me and you carried yourself like a classy strong confident woman. After talking to you for just a minute I thought that Margaret suited a classy strong woman better than a kids name.”
Okay I laughed and said, “I’ll sleep with you, you don’t have to suck up anymore hon.”
So that is how I have come to have 3 names up there on the top of the blog.
Everyone likes to call me something different. I answer to them all.
I have been asked if I have a preference. I don’t really. I think it sounds incredibly odd to hear Rick call me Peggy. Very strange. Think about it, if your significant other just started calling you a different name – weird right?
And over time some family members have gone to Margaret too and I find it cute. No mention of it they just did.
So apparently when I was young I was Peggy and now as an old broad I’m Margaret.
Either way I am a feisty old broad who will answer to most anything.
But here’s a tid bit I’ve never shared about names.
Both my husbands had the same first name!
Yep, that’s right I can’t scream out the wrong name in the heat of passion.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Monday Morning Musings
The Academy Awards last night really were a snooze to me.
I liked Steve and Alec but there wasn't enough of them.
I thought the opening was out of place.
I do love Neil Patrick Harris but he's best in his element at the Tony's or Emmy's.
It didn't work for me.
There were no surprises except the damn fabric flowers on Charlize Theron's boobs.
What the hell was that? She is normally gorgeous on the red carpet but this was awful.
This year I did enjoy the fashion more than the show.
I had to laugh at Carey Mulligan's dress. If you didn't see this up close it would have been hard to see what was so funny. It was kitchen utensils. It had knives, forks, scissors and spoons etc all over the dress. Rick thought it was dreadful but I thought it was funny.
Funny in the sense that this is a gal who probaby hasn't used these utensils for food in a very long time or eaten a potato so she could put them on her dress.
I did not stay up after the Oscars to see this done live.
But I did see this video this morning and I loved it
Hell, anything with Lenny Kravitz in I would watch. Hum-ina hum ina hum ina.
Hope you all enjoy!
I liked Steve and Alec but there wasn't enough of them.
I thought the opening was out of place.
I do love Neil Patrick Harris but he's best in his element at the Tony's or Emmy's.
It didn't work for me.
There were no surprises except the damn fabric flowers on Charlize Theron's boobs.
What the hell was that? She is normally gorgeous on the red carpet but this was awful.
This year I did enjoy the fashion more than the show.
I had to laugh at Carey Mulligan's dress. If you didn't see this up close it would have been hard to see what was so funny. It was kitchen utensils. It had knives, forks, scissors and spoons etc all over the dress. Rick thought it was dreadful but I thought it was funny.
Funny in the sense that this is a gal who probaby hasn't used these utensils for food in a very long time or eaten a potato so she could put them on her dress.
I did not stay up after the Oscars to see this done live.
But I did see this video this morning and I loved it
Hell, anything with Lenny Kravitz in I would watch. Hum-ina hum ina hum ina.
Hope you all enjoy!
Friday, March 5, 2010
Food for Thought
I was reading this article the other day about food.
Not only do I love to eat food I enjoy reading about food.
I love to watch the food network too.
But I am picky. I don’t like seafood at all. I don’t like birds.
I don’t like mushrooms to chew but I love their flavor.
I don’t like to eat things prettier than me like Bambi and Thumper.
Just a little rule I have.
I could never be on a reality show where you have to eat disgusting things and critters.
And most of all I do not like to eat my food while in its former life form.
I love pig – but I can not eat pig while it’s staring at me even if it does have an apple in its mouth.
Here was something from this article.
Top 10 Mispronounced Foodie Words
1. Bruschetta (broo-SKEH-tah)
2. Gnocchi (NYOH-kee)
3. Gyro (YEER-oh)
4. Huitlacoche (wheet-lah-KOH-chay)
5. Pouilly-Fuisse (poo-yee fwee-SAY)
6. Mole (MOH-lay)
7. Paczki (POONCH-key)
8. Pho (fuh)
9. Prosciutto (proh-SHOO-toe)
10. Sake (SAH-kay)
I found this interesting because I have never heard of or had numbers 4, 5, or 6.
I realized I have been saying number 10 incorrectly for my whole adult life. (SAH-Key was my way) I don’t like number 8 a bunch. I love 1, 2, 3, and 9 a lot!!
I am a picky eater. So how does one get chubby if they don’t like to eat a lot of different foods? Easy, eat a lot of the foods you do like. Don’t forget I am the gal who would leave my husband for Ben or Jerry.
So where do you fall in this? Can you pronounce them all? Do you like them all?
I googled number 4 and it was revolting to me when I read, “ its other English name is corn smut (oh yum that makes it sound better) . Most American corn farmers do their best to keep it from showing up in their crops. Huitlacoche is the black, squishy, and disgusting-looking tumescent manifestation of a plant fungus on corn kernels. Not coincidentally, perhaps, the most common restaurant preparations involve hiding the huitlacoche from view... in tamales, quesadillas, soups.”
So when I say I have never had number 4 what I mean is that I did not knowingly eat number 4. If one must hide it I pray I didn’t eat it. Sounds yummy though doesn't it?
Number 5 is a white wine I believe. Since I do not drink white wine I have never tried this. But number 5 unlike number 4 I would be more than willing to try. It’s a dry wine so I would give it a go. Hell I would even drink wine from a box. Not preferred but it’s wine. I mean to tell you I grew up drinking what my Dad made in the basement and he called it his Dago Red. I just love wine so I would be game to try this one anytime.
Number 6 is something I have seen in a grocery store in a clear bottle that didn’t look appealing. I believe it is a Mexican sauce and I have never had it that I am aware of. The name is not appealing but that may be due to the translation.
Number 7 is something I had at a friends home when I was a kid. It was kind of a Polish doughnut. I remember it being good. And if you think I'm picky now I was very bad as a child.
Number 8 is a soup. Not awful but certainly not something I would want to have again. I had it once. It’s not like I will crave it or think, ooh let’s go have some Vietnamese food tonight. Just not really my cup of tea. Thai food is more my style as well as Chinese over Vietnamese food.
The last few nights while walking the dog we have been smelling grilled meats. Monday night Rick swore he smelled ribs on the grill. Tuesday night was hamburgers wafting through the air. My husband claims they were made with Worcestershire. How he can tell that by walking past a house where the outdoor grill is smoking I’ll never know. He and the dog both were sniffing like fools. Last night we smelled steak. We were so full from our own dinner but it did smell great. So I’m thinking steak with sautéed creamy garlic spinach is on the menu this weekend. Whatever it will be I know it will be must be grilled. Let the neighbors drool while they walk their dog for a change. You can tell everyone is chomping at the bit to be outdoors. (God let spring arrive soon)
So tell me what do you like? Will you be eating Pho this weekend? How about some plant fungus on corn? Mmmmm……yum.
Not only do I love to eat food I enjoy reading about food.
I love to watch the food network too.
But I am picky. I don’t like seafood at all. I don’t like birds.
I don’t like mushrooms to chew but I love their flavor.
I don’t like to eat things prettier than me like Bambi and Thumper.
Just a little rule I have.
I could never be on a reality show where you have to eat disgusting things and critters.
And most of all I do not like to eat my food while in its former life form.
I love pig – but I can not eat pig while it’s staring at me even if it does have an apple in its mouth.
Here was something from this article.
Top 10 Mispronounced Foodie Words
1. Bruschetta (broo-SKEH-tah)
2. Gnocchi (NYOH-kee)
3. Gyro (YEER-oh)
4. Huitlacoche (wheet-lah-KOH-chay)
5. Pouilly-Fuisse (poo-yee fwee-SAY)
6. Mole (MOH-lay)
7. Paczki (POONCH-key)
8. Pho (fuh)
9. Prosciutto (proh-SHOO-toe)
10. Sake (SAH-kay)
I found this interesting because I have never heard of or had numbers 4, 5, or 6.
I realized I have been saying number 10 incorrectly for my whole adult life. (SAH-Key was my way) I don’t like number 8 a bunch. I love 1, 2, 3, and 9 a lot!!
I am a picky eater. So how does one get chubby if they don’t like to eat a lot of different foods? Easy, eat a lot of the foods you do like. Don’t forget I am the gal who would leave my husband for Ben or Jerry.
So where do you fall in this? Can you pronounce them all? Do you like them all?
I googled number 4 and it was revolting to me when I read, “ its other English name is corn smut (oh yum that makes it sound better) . Most American corn farmers do their best to keep it from showing up in their crops. Huitlacoche is the black, squishy, and disgusting-looking tumescent manifestation of a plant fungus on corn kernels. Not coincidentally, perhaps, the most common restaurant preparations involve hiding the huitlacoche from view... in tamales, quesadillas, soups.”
So when I say I have never had number 4 what I mean is that I did not knowingly eat number 4. If one must hide it I pray I didn’t eat it. Sounds yummy though doesn't it?
Number 5 is a white wine I believe. Since I do not drink white wine I have never tried this. But number 5 unlike number 4 I would be more than willing to try. It’s a dry wine so I would give it a go. Hell I would even drink wine from a box. Not preferred but it’s wine. I mean to tell you I grew up drinking what my Dad made in the basement and he called it his Dago Red. I just love wine so I would be game to try this one anytime.
Number 6 is something I have seen in a grocery store in a clear bottle that didn’t look appealing. I believe it is a Mexican sauce and I have never had it that I am aware of. The name is not appealing but that may be due to the translation.
Number 7 is something I had at a friends home when I was a kid. It was kind of a Polish doughnut. I remember it being good. And if you think I'm picky now I was very bad as a child.
Number 8 is a soup. Not awful but certainly not something I would want to have again. I had it once. It’s not like I will crave it or think, ooh let’s go have some Vietnamese food tonight. Just not really my cup of tea. Thai food is more my style as well as Chinese over Vietnamese food.
The last few nights while walking the dog we have been smelling grilled meats. Monday night Rick swore he smelled ribs on the grill. Tuesday night was hamburgers wafting through the air. My husband claims they were made with Worcestershire. How he can tell that by walking past a house where the outdoor grill is smoking I’ll never know. He and the dog both were sniffing like fools. Last night we smelled steak. We were so full from our own dinner but it did smell great. So I’m thinking steak with sautéed creamy garlic spinach is on the menu this weekend. Whatever it will be I know it will be must be grilled. Let the neighbors drool while they walk their dog for a change. You can tell everyone is chomping at the bit to be outdoors. (God let spring arrive soon)
So tell me what do you like? Will you be eating Pho this weekend? How about some plant fungus on corn? Mmmmm……yum.
It's Finally Friday
I have some updates to start with......
At 25 I remember a couple of my friends and my cousin all going out to one of our favorite bars. We wanted to hear this band and my cousin's birthday was a couple of days later so we were going to whoop it up. I remember us dancing, drinking a lot, flirting with guys and just having a damn good time. I remember a lot of shots of kamikazes. (yea it was the early 80's) You tell a guy or two it's your birthday and free drinks most of the night. I recall this all because of what later happened that night. My cousin and I were the last to leave. I was driving. (I know it was wrong!) There was a huge snow mound on the curb and to get to my car I would have had to climb over it or walk to the corner and then back up the street to my car. A normal woman would go to the corner, but not a drunken fool in high heel boots. No I tried to climb over the icy mound of snow in 3 inch heels and with way too much liquor to be driving let alone climbing over anything icy. I lost my balance (surprise!) and fell flat on my tummy and slide across the slippery road into the right hand lane. Classy huh? Not a proud moment. I lay there on my belly while cars are wisking by. I remember getting up and realizing my jeans, my new very expensive jeans I bought myself for my birthday, were ripped. Torn right across my knee. My cousin was laughing and we got in the car and drove to Mickey D's. I had my hands on the counter and ordered a quarter pounder with cheese and a sprite. Then the young man said, "Miss, could you please take your hands off our counter you are bleeding everywhere."
I looked down at my hands and they were all scraped and had road cinders embedded and then it hit me - OUCH! My hands did not hurt at all as I drove the 5 blocks to MacDonalds. But as soon as I saw them my hands were throbbing with pain. I said I was sorry and then I looked at my cousin and asked did you notice this? Of course she hadn't either. I went straight to the bathroom to clean myself up. I was now in pain and couldn't hold my burger to eat it. I went home after dropping my cousin off and it was now 4am as I climbed into bed and set my alarm clock. My alarm went off at 4:45am. I jumped in the shower and left for my shift at the airport that began at 5:30a. I worked a full shift in heels with a very sore knee with out any other major problems, other than passengers.
I took a short nap after work and then met up with a few co-workers at the airline hang out.
Now at age 54 after a full day of work I opened a bottle of wine. I had a wonderful meal with my husband. We walked the dog. I had more wine and conversation with my husband. I had very bad chocolate cake. We laughed a lot and even danced. I fell asleep on my husband!
Sucks to get old.
- First my husband wants me to clairfy Wednesday's post that the correct answer he gave was a THREE Toed Sloth. I know you were all wondering about that now weren't you? Since I have never heard of a Two Toed or a Three Toed Sloth I didn't see the big difference but to Critter Boy it apparently was. I guess he was worried that if you had seen that Jeopardy you would think he had the wrong answer. I tried to tell him no one gave a shit or was losing sleep over this but I being the ever good wife am making his point for him. (yea I know that's funny.....me being the good wife)
- Why when I updated my blog did it remove the spell check? I can't spell for shit as you all know now so this is not a good thing to not have for me. What am I missing? If anyone out there can assist me that would be great - I'm old now and technologically confused.
- The flourless chocolate cake was horrible. It was pasty and bitter. I followed the directions to a tee. I read this online and there were over a 100 reviews - ALL glowing. Did these people actually eat this? I even tried it with some whipped cream. No good. The whipped cream was good and of course I ate it, the cake was not edible. Heaven knows I am not that picky when it comes to chocolate and cake but this was so awful and it pains me to throw it away....but it must not be eaten!
At 25 I remember a couple of my friends and my cousin all going out to one of our favorite bars. We wanted to hear this band and my cousin's birthday was a couple of days later so we were going to whoop it up. I remember us dancing, drinking a lot, flirting with guys and just having a damn good time. I remember a lot of shots of kamikazes. (yea it was the early 80's) You tell a guy or two it's your birthday and free drinks most of the night. I recall this all because of what later happened that night. My cousin and I were the last to leave. I was driving. (I know it was wrong!) There was a huge snow mound on the curb and to get to my car I would have had to climb over it or walk to the corner and then back up the street to my car. A normal woman would go to the corner, but not a drunken fool in high heel boots. No I tried to climb over the icy mound of snow in 3 inch heels and with way too much liquor to be driving let alone climbing over anything icy. I lost my balance (surprise!) and fell flat on my tummy and slide across the slippery road into the right hand lane. Classy huh? Not a proud moment. I lay there on my belly while cars are wisking by. I remember getting up and realizing my jeans, my new very expensive jeans I bought myself for my birthday, were ripped. Torn right across my knee. My cousin was laughing and we got in the car and drove to Mickey D's. I had my hands on the counter and ordered a quarter pounder with cheese and a sprite. Then the young man said, "Miss, could you please take your hands off our counter you are bleeding everywhere."
I looked down at my hands and they were all scraped and had road cinders embedded and then it hit me - OUCH! My hands did not hurt at all as I drove the 5 blocks to MacDonalds. But as soon as I saw them my hands were throbbing with pain. I said I was sorry and then I looked at my cousin and asked did you notice this? Of course she hadn't either. I went straight to the bathroom to clean myself up. I was now in pain and couldn't hold my burger to eat it. I went home after dropping my cousin off and it was now 4am as I climbed into bed and set my alarm clock. My alarm went off at 4:45am. I jumped in the shower and left for my shift at the airport that began at 5:30a. I worked a full shift in heels with a very sore knee with out any other major problems, other than passengers.
I took a short nap after work and then met up with a few co-workers at the airline hang out.
Now at age 54 after a full day of work I opened a bottle of wine. I had a wonderful meal with my husband. We walked the dog. I had more wine and conversation with my husband. I had very bad chocolate cake. We laughed a lot and even danced. I fell asleep on my husband!
Sucks to get old.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Self Consumed Day
Yeah, I made you endure that song just for me today.
This is my favorite day of the year!
Yes I am that shallow.
Back in 1987 on the first night I met my husband he asked me what my favorite holiday was. I told him it was my birthday. He laughed and said, "No seriously."
Yes, seriously that is my favorite holiday because it's all about me. I don't have to share it with anyone. It's not a religious holiday. It's just ME.
He really thought I was joking. He now knows better.
Now when people ask me that and I tell them it's March 4th , my birthday, they look puzzled and he will say, "Oh, she's so not kidding"
I think this is something I can finally blame on my parents....tee hee
For as long as I can remember our birthdays were a damn big deal in our home.
My mom would ask us what we wanted for our birthday dinner and the celebration would begin. It was our day from the time we got up until we went to bed. A fuss was made about us and how terrific it was that we were born. There were photo's and film and just fun.
When my mom died my step mom stepped up and continued this tradition.
There were 5 girls in my family and honestly it was 1 day where you were THE KID.
You didn't fight with that sister on her day. That was the one day you could count on your sisters for not bothering you in any way. It was heaven!
I always picked the same thing for dinner. Gnocchi. I love gnocchi. And yes my crazy ass loud Italian American family never ate gnocchi from a store. Mom made them. So as an adult I realize I always made my mom work a bit extra as opposed to my sister who always wanted steak. One year I changed it up and asked for hot dogs. I love hot dogs. The ones from my home town that I can only get there. I love them done on the grill or an open fire. But since my birthday is in March and my hometown was always buried under 4 ft of snow at that time I never got them grilled. So the year of my 14th birthday dad fired up the fireplace and we all put our hot dogs on a stick and had them that way. Yep I was spoiled on my birthday. Trust me that was the only time of the year. Maybe that is why I love my birthday so much. We also got our favorite cake/dessert. Yep I am a spoiled birthday brat.
This year no gnocchi or my favorite cake.
Gluten free makes your life a little less fun in that respect.
But the fact that my husband is making dinner I don't really give a shit what it is - I am not cooking. I did however make a flourless chocolate cake. I will let you know how that is tomorrow.
I got a card from my dog which cracked me up. My niece called this morning and sang Happy Birthday to me at 8am. My hubby gave me gifts, flowers and breakfast. So how the hell can't you just love your birthday?
Rick thinks my family is strange that we celebrate like its such a big deal. And maybe he's right. I think it's odd when no one in a family makes a fuss over another family memebers birthday. But now that he is part of this family he does enjoy the hell out of it. I love that he was born so I love his birthday! It's a reason to celebrate. I think he would even admit that now that he's been a part of this no one making a fuss would be a bit odd and sad to him.
Every job I had I got my birthday off. My husband found that odd. He asked when he met me if I sought out these jobs just for that reason. Of course not, but it was funny how each company I worked for in the industry I was in offered our birthday off.
Now I work with him and I don't get my birthday off.
Hmmm...I get sexually harassed and very little pay but no off day on my birthday.
Something is wrong here don'tcha think?
Now the only bad thing of today's holiday.....
I was putting on some mascara today and my eyes are also having a birthday.
But they are not as happy as me.
My eyes are so my age. They don't look the same.
They have skin that hangs down and covers my eyelid.
They look old and tired.
So after I win the large lottery winnings this week (for my birthday of course) I am having my eyes done. Yes I so would do it in a New York minute!
I can't fathom cutting my face, although if I could stomach it I would.
But having my eyes done, some restylane around my parenthesis,, and fraxel for my wrinkles doesn't bother me one bit. The only thing I would not do is cut my face or use botox. I know it makes no sense but these are my very own idiosyncrasies.
But instead I have to look at these old eyes, wrinkles and parenthesis and try to remember that it doesn't matter. But who the hell are we all kidding it does matter to a certain point to me. It is a sucky sucky thing about getting to your 50's. Ah, but I'm not going to dwell today. It's a fun day of chocolate and fun for me. But here is something funny.
Yes that is me sharing my ugly old lady drooping eye lids. I'm cracking myself up in this photo. Didn't do my hair and I'm showing you my face. Jeez. I was trying to be in cognito but it's not working and look at my shoulders - they look funny, like a growth or something up there. I also just noticed it looks like I need some sun don't I? Jeez, why the hell did i do this?
Ok ladies - go out and celebrate my birthday with me.
Have a piece of chocolate - put on your favorite music and turn it up and dance!
I plan to do all of that plus add in some wine and people you love and that is my favorite holiday!!
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Wednesday's This or That
My neighbor/friend had her baby Monday night at 8pm. She called me at 5:10pm to ask me to walk her dog between 9p – 10p. She was on her way to the hospital. The baby was breach so they ended up doing a C-section. She called me Tuesday morning to let me know that Ella Grace had arrived and was a whooping 7lbs and 22inches long. So looks like she may be a tall one like her mom (mom is 5’11” – lucky shit) She won’t be home until Thursday possibly Friday. She went on and on about having to stay in the hospital. She was not happy about it. I told her to enjoy the hospital confinement because she will get some sleep – once she gets home there will be no real quality of sleep for awhile. She poo-poo’s that every time I tell her. She asked, “not all babies are like that are they?” Guess she figures since I didn’t have my own what the hell do I know. She’s in for a real awakening – no pun intended. I was telling her that her first inclination after the baby goes down for a nap is to do the things you haven’t gotten time to get done but don’t. Take that time to nap yourself. Again she laughed and said, I really think it will be okay and I won’t lose much sleep. I told her if she should need a nap to call me I will watch the baby so she can nap. She doesn’t think she will need to take me up on this offer. She says as long as she gets 8hrs of sleep she can function. Delusional? Hey mom’s out there do you think she will never need a nap and still get 8 hrs or more a night of sleep as she claims? (see I find that funny even typing it)
My husband knows I LOVE cracker jacks.
I don’t know why I even like them but I really really do. I don’t normally eat peanuts and they are in there. I don’t normally like caramel corn and what are cracker jacks if not caramel corn with peanuts? But something about them all together makes me crazy in love with cracker jacks. Can not do a baseball game without them. Well ole hubby bought some for me and I am assuming this was to be given to me on Thursday for my birthday. I have never seen this size bag. Like if you bought potato chips in a small individual bag size. I normally only see Cracker Jacks in a box. Anyway, I was out in the garage getting more dog food and saw the Cracker Jacks on his work bench slightly behind some tools which I think he thought were hidden. It was KILLING me not to grab this and devour it. But I had restraint. Okay not really, I just ran out of the garage as quickly as I could so I didn’t see them. I can hear them calling me though. These will have to be dispensed to me a week apart otherwise I will eat them all before I know it. I can’t wait for Thursday!!! Now I must save some for Saturday's televised baseball game.
My husband loves to mess with me. I admit I have my blonde moments but he has now been doing this for so long that I believe nothing he says. I have gone the other way and now I never know if he is right or just fucking with me. I hate this.
Here are two examples of things he has done in the past.
We were driving through Cooks Forest in PA. We were on our way to visit his family.
We are both quiet. I am enjoying the scenery from my side of the car. All of a sudden he starts to sniff. He keeps sniffing.
I ask, "What do you smell? "
"Don’t you smell anything?"
"No I don’t." sniff sniff
He opens his window all the way and sniffs some more.
“Oh yea. I smell hot sausage pepper and onion sandwiches. I’m guessing about 2 miles down the road”
I am now hanging my head out the window like a dog sniffing the air.
I really don’t smell anything at all Rick besides the pine trees.
"Wow." He sniffs again. "I really smell it now, you really don't?"
So I get up on my knees and am hanging out the window like a jackass sniffing.
Then there it is – a clearing and a big silver trailer with a sign that says STOP. Hot sausage pepper and onion sandwiches.
"There it is. Oh my God Rick I can’t believe you smelled this."
He pulls over and says, "Let’s have lunch."
I walk up to the window and place my order and tell the man that my husband could smell these sandwiches 2 miles up the road. I went on and on like a damn fool. The sandwiches were good and we sat outside on the picnic tables and had a nice little lunch on a beautiful sunny fall day.
On the way home driving through Cooks Forest again I see a sign that says, “HOT SAUSAGE SANDWICHES 2 MILES UP THE ROAD”
I look at Rick and he began to laugh.
"There was a sign coming down here wasn’t there?"
"Yep."
"So I made a complete ass of myself to that man when I ordered my sandwich?"
"Well I was winking at him over your head – you were cute – it wasn’t that bad."
He was laughing like crazy at this point.
So not funny. I can’t believe I fell for his shit yet again.
"Oh some day I am so going to get you back."
"Uh-huh."
When I was living in Ohio and he was in Pennsylvania he came to visit one weekend with a beautiful potted plant that flowered. It was really nice. I had it in my apartment in a beautiful container and everyone commented on it. One evening I had some friends over and 2 of the women kept asking me the name of this plant. I said I don’t know the latin proper name but Rick said they call it a “neighbor” plant. I continue on saying, "You know like this one here is called Epipremnum aureum I believe but generally you just call it a potho’s plant." Everyone shakes their head and that is that. A year later I am visiting Rick and we are taking a walk in the early evening. We get to this house on the corner of his block that has been vacant for some time and we are discussing possible reasons why it was such a pretty house. As we walk around the one side of the fence I notice all of these “neighbor” plants around the fence and I point and say, “Wow look at all these neighbor plants.”
Immediately Rick begins to laugh his ass off. Then it dawns on me….he stole a plant and he made up this name. I ask him if that is what he did and he admitted to this crime.
"Why do you keep doing this to me? I told people this was called a neighbor plant. I look like an idiot now"
"Well you’ll believe anything and well it's so much fun and how could I have told you after you told me that story?"
"You make me look like a damn fool Richard."
"Nah, you’re a cute gullible woman."
"Yes that is exactly what the paper will say. "Cute gullible woman kills man for always messing with her, jury lets her off because he was a charming sadistic shit"
There are way too many of these to review here but let me tell you I doubt anything he tells me now. Last night watching Jeopardy he yelled out the question Two Toed Sloths. I begin to laugh. He paused the television to ask why I think that is so funny. Do I not believe him? I call him critter boy so why wouldn't critter boy know the name of this animal?
"Seriously a Two Toed Sloth? That doesn't even sound like a real thing. You can make up things better than that. C’mon a two toed sloth sounds like a neighbor plant to me."
He laughs and says, "Honestly this is a real animal Margaret. "
"Yea, sure it is."
He unpauses the television and the questions was “What is a two toed soth?”
DAMN!
And yet again I look like the fool.
My husband knows I LOVE cracker jacks.
I don’t know why I even like them but I really really do. I don’t normally eat peanuts and they are in there. I don’t normally like caramel corn and what are cracker jacks if not caramel corn with peanuts? But something about them all together makes me crazy in love with cracker jacks. Can not do a baseball game without them. Well ole hubby bought some for me and I am assuming this was to be given to me on Thursday for my birthday. I have never seen this size bag. Like if you bought potato chips in a small individual bag size. I normally only see Cracker Jacks in a box. Anyway, I was out in the garage getting more dog food and saw the Cracker Jacks on his work bench slightly behind some tools which I think he thought were hidden. It was KILLING me not to grab this and devour it. But I had restraint. Okay not really, I just ran out of the garage as quickly as I could so I didn’t see them. I can hear them calling me though. These will have to be dispensed to me a week apart otherwise I will eat them all before I know it. I can’t wait for Thursday!!! Now I must save some for Saturday's televised baseball game.
My husband loves to mess with me. I admit I have my blonde moments but he has now been doing this for so long that I believe nothing he says. I have gone the other way and now I never know if he is right or just fucking with me. I hate this.
Here are two examples of things he has done in the past.
We were driving through Cooks Forest in PA. We were on our way to visit his family.
We are both quiet. I am enjoying the scenery from my side of the car. All of a sudden he starts to sniff. He keeps sniffing.
I ask, "What do you smell? "
"Don’t you smell anything?"
"No I don’t." sniff sniff
He opens his window all the way and sniffs some more.
“Oh yea. I smell hot sausage pepper and onion sandwiches. I’m guessing about 2 miles down the road”
I am now hanging my head out the window like a dog sniffing the air.
I really don’t smell anything at all Rick besides the pine trees.
"Wow." He sniffs again. "I really smell it now, you really don't?"
So I get up on my knees and am hanging out the window like a jackass sniffing.
Then there it is – a clearing and a big silver trailer with a sign that says STOP. Hot sausage pepper and onion sandwiches.
"There it is. Oh my God Rick I can’t believe you smelled this."
He pulls over and says, "Let’s have lunch."
I walk up to the window and place my order and tell the man that my husband could smell these sandwiches 2 miles up the road. I went on and on like a damn fool. The sandwiches were good and we sat outside on the picnic tables and had a nice little lunch on a beautiful sunny fall day.
On the way home driving through Cooks Forest again I see a sign that says, “HOT SAUSAGE SANDWICHES 2 MILES UP THE ROAD”
I look at Rick and he began to laugh.
"There was a sign coming down here wasn’t there?"
"Yep."
"So I made a complete ass of myself to that man when I ordered my sandwich?"
"Well I was winking at him over your head – you were cute – it wasn’t that bad."
He was laughing like crazy at this point.
So not funny. I can’t believe I fell for his shit yet again.
"Oh some day I am so going to get you back."
"Uh-huh."
When I was living in Ohio and he was in Pennsylvania he came to visit one weekend with a beautiful potted plant that flowered. It was really nice. I had it in my apartment in a beautiful container and everyone commented on it. One evening I had some friends over and 2 of the women kept asking me the name of this plant. I said I don’t know the latin proper name but Rick said they call it a “neighbor” plant. I continue on saying, "You know like this one here is called Epipremnum aureum I believe but generally you just call it a potho’s plant." Everyone shakes their head and that is that. A year later I am visiting Rick and we are taking a walk in the early evening. We get to this house on the corner of his block that has been vacant for some time and we are discussing possible reasons why it was such a pretty house. As we walk around the one side of the fence I notice all of these “neighbor” plants around the fence and I point and say, “Wow look at all these neighbor plants.”
Immediately Rick begins to laugh his ass off. Then it dawns on me….he stole a plant and he made up this name. I ask him if that is what he did and he admitted to this crime.
"Why do you keep doing this to me? I told people this was called a neighbor plant. I look like an idiot now"
"Well you’ll believe anything and well it's so much fun and how could I have told you after you told me that story?"
"You make me look like a damn fool Richard."
"Nah, you’re a cute gullible woman."
"Yes that is exactly what the paper will say. "Cute gullible woman kills man for always messing with her, jury lets her off because he was a charming sadistic shit"
There are way too many of these to review here but let me tell you I doubt anything he tells me now. Last night watching Jeopardy he yelled out the question Two Toed Sloths. I begin to laugh. He paused the television to ask why I think that is so funny. Do I not believe him? I call him critter boy so why wouldn't critter boy know the name of this animal?
"Seriously a Two Toed Sloth? That doesn't even sound like a real thing. You can make up things better than that. C’mon a two toed sloth sounds like a neighbor plant to me."
He laughs and says, "Honestly this is a real animal Margaret. "
"Yea, sure it is."
He unpauses the television and the questions was “What is a two toed soth?”
DAMN!
And yet again I look like the fool.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Big Brothers / Big Sisters Part Deux
After meeting the family I had a few nights of classes to attend. Those of us in these classes were all about to embark on being Big Brothers and Big Sisters. We were told some rules and guidelines that must be followed.
We were never to buy them gifts. Not even for holidays. (I knew I would never be able to keep this promise) We were told to never under any circumstances give them money.
Generally it was the family asking them to ask you for money.
If it was something we couldn’t handle then to call our sponsor.
We had to commit to 1 day a week. The minimum I believe was 4 hours. Honestly I don’t recall now. We must be consistent above anything else. If we couldn’t give of ourselves for these kids 4 hours a week for a year then we were told to leave now.
It was imperative that they have consistency which most didn’t have in any form in their lives. We were also told that just because of your gender did not determine what gender you got. While I already knew about my little sister most here were not given a “sibling” yet. Boys were harder to place. There was a bigger need for Big Brothers. They asked some of the women there if they would be okay with a little brother. All were. Apparently men do not volunteer as often as women. (oh big surprise right?) And most moms are hesitant of letting their young boys go off with an adult male.
The BB/BS organization had a lot of activities that were planned for us as a group.
They also received a lot of donations for things like tickets to the Nutcracker at Christmas or plays or Sesame Street Live – things like that. You could decide if you wanted to go, if it was age appropriate and that sort of thing.
Every week when I picked up Diane she was dirty and dressed in rags basically. It broke my heart. I hated that I couldn’t buy her things. And I am shallow enough to say that it bothered me that she was so filthy and her hair so noticeably dirty that people would think I was this well dressed mom and didn’t care properly for my kid. I told Bob that and he told me it was normal. (There was that word again.) But I wasn’t to buy her things.
Diane didn’t have social skills or manners. She lowered her head when she spoke to you. She could barely read.
To help with her reading I decided that we would make cupcakes from a box and she would read the directions. We would make this reading thing fun….or so I thought. It ended up being an afternoon with tears and stress – for both of us. She loved the idea of making cupcakes. It took us over 45 minutes to read the ingredients I had to put in that damn bowl. I was horrified at her inability to read the word egg. That word was so incredibly difficult for her. I was not prepared or qualified to really help her I realized.
The following Monday I called her school and told them who I was and would like to meet with her teacher. A meeting was planned and I told her teacher that I would like to work with her on her school work and especially reading. Could she recommend or perhaps give me some tools or books or anything to help me help Diane. The teacher laughed and told me that while what I was doing was noble that I shouldn’t expect much from her because look where she comes from.
I normally save my sharp tongue for after I leave, hang up the phone, or in my blog. But this woman really pissed me off. I told her that was the reason Diane had a big sister to help her leave this life she is in and to show her the world that is available to her. I was about to go into the fact that her mother does not have the capabilities to help her with homework and I would like to but I didn’t get the chance. She stood up and told me I was wasting my time and hers. She thanked me for taking an interest but it wasn’t worth it, “trust me” she said.
I left there in shock. I called Bob and he asked me to come in. I got yelled at basically for doing that. He said you can’t fix it, just be a good friend and role model for her and leave it at that. My God I wasn’t cut out for this. This was so much harder than I ever expected. Why am I doing this if not to help this child? But apparently that type of help was out of my responsibilities.
I have a good friend who teaches remedial reading to junior high students. I called her and asked her for some help. She gave me some books and away we went. It helped….ever so slowly. But it did help. I won’t go into all the gory details and minutia but she had dyslexia and she finally got some help from her school once Bob helped her mother go in and make the point. Sheesh talk about frustrating. Bob gave me some grief but he would shake his head and tell me I was too involved. C’mon if you do this how can’t you be involved?
Diane didn’t know to say please, thank you, or excuse me. Little niceties or manners were never taught and she wasn’t really exposed to them either. I was constantly working on this with her. I told Rick that we were always going to make the point of doing the right thing around her so she just saw it all the time. No lectures per se. I didn’t want her time with me to be like torture or school. It was to be fun, educational and a bonding experience.
One Saturday afternoon we were at the fish store to buy some new fish for my aquarium. Rick was in the back of the store and I was further up the aisle picking up some food and I saw Diane walk in front of a couple and say, “Excuse Me”. I looked over her head and saw Rick looking at me and we both were about to cry. After 2 months with this girl she learned to say excuse me and I’m telling you I was about to burst with pride.
One day I picked her up to take her to the movies. Her hair was so dirty and she smelled.
This pretty little thing looked a mess. We went to target bought some shampoo for me and some Barbie shampoo for her. I picked it up and she asked if she could look at it. She wanted to hold it. I told her it was going to be hers and she could have it. I also told her that she would need to have clean hair when I picked her up. She told me that her mother told her that she didn’t need to wash her hair or it would turn green and fall out.
She asked if the Barbie shampoo would let her keep her hair this color and not fall out.
Jeez.
We picked out a Barbie nail set and some other assorted girly goodies. We went back to my house and she took a shower as I sat on the toilet. She loved the pretty smell she told me of her shampoo. Then we did our nails. She did mine and I did hers. Then we went to the movies and out to dinner. At dinner she told me, “This was the best day of my whole life. I think I look pretty and you look pretty too Peggy”
Man you guys this girl got to me. Each time I took her home I cried all the way back to my home. Rick said that if I didn’t get a grip he was going to ask me to leave this program. I couldn’t leave her. But I really hated dropping her off at her home.
Her parents tried to manipulate me. Her parents were dumb but smart enough to know how to work the system. They did everything they could to undermine everything Diane did. It was so damn sad. They had one son taken away from them and Diane’s mom called me at work. She was crying that they took David from her. I was assuming she wanted help in getting him back. I asked if she had spoken to Bob about this. She said, “Bob won’t give me money. Without David we lose money and we’ll have to cancel our cable.”
OMG it hit me. She wasn’t concerned that David was taken from his home for foster care but that without him the state didn’t give her assistance for that kid and she wouldn’t be able to afford her television and cable.
I was thoroughly disgusted and told her I couldn’t help her….and then I called Bob.
There were days that Diane would say the littlest of things to me that would hit me to my core. My parents were raising 2 of their grandchildren from birth. They were a little younger than Diane. I was going up to my parents house one Saturday night that Diane was spending the night and while I was talking to my parents she was playing with my nieces in their playroom.
When we were driving home she said to me, “Those girls are really lucky.”
I responded with, “Yep, they really are. They sure have a lot of toys don’t they?”
“No I mean there’re really lucky because everyone really loves them.”
Okay another day with Diane and I’m the one learning the lessons and crying again.
That killed me. She was 7 yrs old and she could see that these 2 little girls who’s mother was addicted to drugs and they were being raised by grandparents were loved to pieces. And while most people would feel sorry for those girls she only saw the love, not even the toys. Lesson for we grown ups. There were a lot of these lessons and statements from Diane over the years that would hit me like a ton of bricks. Make me see things through her eyes. Sometimes I would then be ashamed of myself. Who was doing the helping here?
My 2nd Christmas into this I decided to hell with the rules. I bought her a beautiful dress for the Christmas Nutcracker performance at the Warner Theatre. She was so excited. She was 8 now and she had never had a pretty dress. She tried on dress after dress and as soon as she came out of the dressing room beaming I knew this was the one. It was red velvet and black /red plaid and it was right out of a story book and she loved this dress. She kept twirling. With her black hair that red just popped. She looked so pretty and so damn happy. Normally if I bought her something it stayed at my house but she begged me to bring it to her house to show her mom. I gave in and said it was okay.
Her mother cut the dress into pieces and laughed. Diane called me crying. I couldn’t call Bob because this is what I wasn’t supposed to do. I was wrong. That made this so much worse – I caused this adorable little girls grief. I told her we would work this out and yes we were still going to the show.
I made arrangements to pick Diane up for the show about 3 hrs before we had to leave for the show.
When I got to her house her mother was so rude to me. She asked why I was picking her up so early. I told her I had some errands to run and that getting her now was easier for me. (Big Lie) Diane came down dressed like a dirty ragamuffin. I noticed she had very dirty hair. She kept her head down and it looked as though she had been crying. When we got in the car she began to apologize about her hair. I told her it was okay. Then she began to cry. Her mother threw away her Barbie nail kit and shampoo.
I apologized to her because I knew this was my fault. She told me she didn’t want to go to the Nutcracker in her holey grey sweatpants.
Here was a little girl that never noticed that she was a dirty little girl in holey clothes and now she was thrust into a world where she noticed. Were we all doing the right thing?
I brought her back to my house and brought her into my room. She asked what I was going to wear and I showed her 2 things and had her pick out what she liked the best. She had me try them on as she judged me and told me to twirl around. We laughed and giggled and I wore what she chose. Now it was my turn to show her something.
I had purchased another Barbie shampoo and nail kit to keep at my house and I showed it to her. She grabbed it and hugged it to her chest. I also bought her another dress identical to the one cut to pieces and it was hanging behind the door. I told her to close the door and she saw it. The look in her eye was worth a million dollars to me. She hugged me. The first time! This was a little girl who when you went in to hug her she would flinch. When you put your arm around her she would flinch. I would hug her but never got one back. This was big time to me. From that day on she hugged back or even hugged first. It was wonderful.
She asked me if she could wash her hair and take a shower before she wore the dress.
I said sure. When she was done she asked me to paint her nails. So we had a bit of a spa day before we went to the theatre. She was so excited. The show as always was beautiful and she loved it. We went back to my house and she changed back into her clothes that she had on when I picked her up. I told her that these would be things we could keep at my house in her room here. So every time she comes or spends the night she will have her own things here. She liked that idea. I never said don’t tell you mom but I knew she wouldn’t. I also knew this wasn’t a good thing to be teaching her but I just didn’t care. Over time I did buy her some clothes to keep at my house. And one day when she was 12 she called them her “appropriate” clothes. I about fell off my chair. Boy how she had grown up.
Diane was in my life from age 6 through 12. At age 12 her family moved and shortly thereafter I did too. My last letter to her came back undeliverable. I have tried to find her but have only hit dead ends. It’s like they dropped off the face of the earth.
I think about her often. I hope she got out. I hope she went on to bigger and better things. I hope she was able to learn that she was worthy of love and that people who love you don’t do mean things to you or are never jealous of you.
This week was her birthday and I wondered how Diane would be doing at age 26. Hopefully she is a thriving, healthy and happy young woman.
Happy Birthday Di.
We were never to buy them gifts. Not even for holidays. (I knew I would never be able to keep this promise) We were told to never under any circumstances give them money.
Generally it was the family asking them to ask you for money.
If it was something we couldn’t handle then to call our sponsor.
We had to commit to 1 day a week. The minimum I believe was 4 hours. Honestly I don’t recall now. We must be consistent above anything else. If we couldn’t give of ourselves for these kids 4 hours a week for a year then we were told to leave now.
It was imperative that they have consistency which most didn’t have in any form in their lives. We were also told that just because of your gender did not determine what gender you got. While I already knew about my little sister most here were not given a “sibling” yet. Boys were harder to place. There was a bigger need for Big Brothers. They asked some of the women there if they would be okay with a little brother. All were. Apparently men do not volunteer as often as women. (oh big surprise right?) And most moms are hesitant of letting their young boys go off with an adult male.
The BB/BS organization had a lot of activities that were planned for us as a group.
They also received a lot of donations for things like tickets to the Nutcracker at Christmas or plays or Sesame Street Live – things like that. You could decide if you wanted to go, if it was age appropriate and that sort of thing.
Every week when I picked up Diane she was dirty and dressed in rags basically. It broke my heart. I hated that I couldn’t buy her things. And I am shallow enough to say that it bothered me that she was so filthy and her hair so noticeably dirty that people would think I was this well dressed mom and didn’t care properly for my kid. I told Bob that and he told me it was normal. (There was that word again.) But I wasn’t to buy her things.
Diane didn’t have social skills or manners. She lowered her head when she spoke to you. She could barely read.
To help with her reading I decided that we would make cupcakes from a box and she would read the directions. We would make this reading thing fun….or so I thought. It ended up being an afternoon with tears and stress – for both of us. She loved the idea of making cupcakes. It took us over 45 minutes to read the ingredients I had to put in that damn bowl. I was horrified at her inability to read the word egg. That word was so incredibly difficult for her. I was not prepared or qualified to really help her I realized.
The following Monday I called her school and told them who I was and would like to meet with her teacher. A meeting was planned and I told her teacher that I would like to work with her on her school work and especially reading. Could she recommend or perhaps give me some tools or books or anything to help me help Diane. The teacher laughed and told me that while what I was doing was noble that I shouldn’t expect much from her because look where she comes from.
I normally save my sharp tongue for after I leave, hang up the phone, or in my blog. But this woman really pissed me off. I told her that was the reason Diane had a big sister to help her leave this life she is in and to show her the world that is available to her. I was about to go into the fact that her mother does not have the capabilities to help her with homework and I would like to but I didn’t get the chance. She stood up and told me I was wasting my time and hers. She thanked me for taking an interest but it wasn’t worth it, “trust me” she said.
I left there in shock. I called Bob and he asked me to come in. I got yelled at basically for doing that. He said you can’t fix it, just be a good friend and role model for her and leave it at that. My God I wasn’t cut out for this. This was so much harder than I ever expected. Why am I doing this if not to help this child? But apparently that type of help was out of my responsibilities.
I have a good friend who teaches remedial reading to junior high students. I called her and asked her for some help. She gave me some books and away we went. It helped….ever so slowly. But it did help. I won’t go into all the gory details and minutia but she had dyslexia and she finally got some help from her school once Bob helped her mother go in and make the point. Sheesh talk about frustrating. Bob gave me some grief but he would shake his head and tell me I was too involved. C’mon if you do this how can’t you be involved?
Diane didn’t know to say please, thank you, or excuse me. Little niceties or manners were never taught and she wasn’t really exposed to them either. I was constantly working on this with her. I told Rick that we were always going to make the point of doing the right thing around her so she just saw it all the time. No lectures per se. I didn’t want her time with me to be like torture or school. It was to be fun, educational and a bonding experience.
One Saturday afternoon we were at the fish store to buy some new fish for my aquarium. Rick was in the back of the store and I was further up the aisle picking up some food and I saw Diane walk in front of a couple and say, “Excuse Me”. I looked over her head and saw Rick looking at me and we both were about to cry. After 2 months with this girl she learned to say excuse me and I’m telling you I was about to burst with pride.
One day I picked her up to take her to the movies. Her hair was so dirty and she smelled.
This pretty little thing looked a mess. We went to target bought some shampoo for me and some Barbie shampoo for her. I picked it up and she asked if she could look at it. She wanted to hold it. I told her it was going to be hers and she could have it. I also told her that she would need to have clean hair when I picked her up. She told me that her mother told her that she didn’t need to wash her hair or it would turn green and fall out.
She asked if the Barbie shampoo would let her keep her hair this color and not fall out.
Jeez.
We picked out a Barbie nail set and some other assorted girly goodies. We went back to my house and she took a shower as I sat on the toilet. She loved the pretty smell she told me of her shampoo. Then we did our nails. She did mine and I did hers. Then we went to the movies and out to dinner. At dinner she told me, “This was the best day of my whole life. I think I look pretty and you look pretty too Peggy”
Man you guys this girl got to me. Each time I took her home I cried all the way back to my home. Rick said that if I didn’t get a grip he was going to ask me to leave this program. I couldn’t leave her. But I really hated dropping her off at her home.
Her parents tried to manipulate me. Her parents were dumb but smart enough to know how to work the system. They did everything they could to undermine everything Diane did. It was so damn sad. They had one son taken away from them and Diane’s mom called me at work. She was crying that they took David from her. I was assuming she wanted help in getting him back. I asked if she had spoken to Bob about this. She said, “Bob won’t give me money. Without David we lose money and we’ll have to cancel our cable.”
OMG it hit me. She wasn’t concerned that David was taken from his home for foster care but that without him the state didn’t give her assistance for that kid and she wouldn’t be able to afford her television and cable.
I was thoroughly disgusted and told her I couldn’t help her….and then I called Bob.
There were days that Diane would say the littlest of things to me that would hit me to my core. My parents were raising 2 of their grandchildren from birth. They were a little younger than Diane. I was going up to my parents house one Saturday night that Diane was spending the night and while I was talking to my parents she was playing with my nieces in their playroom.
When we were driving home she said to me, “Those girls are really lucky.”
I responded with, “Yep, they really are. They sure have a lot of toys don’t they?”
“No I mean there’re really lucky because everyone really loves them.”
Okay another day with Diane and I’m the one learning the lessons and crying again.
That killed me. She was 7 yrs old and she could see that these 2 little girls who’s mother was addicted to drugs and they were being raised by grandparents were loved to pieces. And while most people would feel sorry for those girls she only saw the love, not even the toys. Lesson for we grown ups. There were a lot of these lessons and statements from Diane over the years that would hit me like a ton of bricks. Make me see things through her eyes. Sometimes I would then be ashamed of myself. Who was doing the helping here?
My 2nd Christmas into this I decided to hell with the rules. I bought her a beautiful dress for the Christmas Nutcracker performance at the Warner Theatre. She was so excited. She was 8 now and she had never had a pretty dress. She tried on dress after dress and as soon as she came out of the dressing room beaming I knew this was the one. It was red velvet and black /red plaid and it was right out of a story book and she loved this dress. She kept twirling. With her black hair that red just popped. She looked so pretty and so damn happy. Normally if I bought her something it stayed at my house but she begged me to bring it to her house to show her mom. I gave in and said it was okay.
Her mother cut the dress into pieces and laughed. Diane called me crying. I couldn’t call Bob because this is what I wasn’t supposed to do. I was wrong. That made this so much worse – I caused this adorable little girls grief. I told her we would work this out and yes we were still going to the show.
I made arrangements to pick Diane up for the show about 3 hrs before we had to leave for the show.
When I got to her house her mother was so rude to me. She asked why I was picking her up so early. I told her I had some errands to run and that getting her now was easier for me. (Big Lie) Diane came down dressed like a dirty ragamuffin. I noticed she had very dirty hair. She kept her head down and it looked as though she had been crying. When we got in the car she began to apologize about her hair. I told her it was okay. Then she began to cry. Her mother threw away her Barbie nail kit and shampoo.
I apologized to her because I knew this was my fault. She told me she didn’t want to go to the Nutcracker in her holey grey sweatpants.
Here was a little girl that never noticed that she was a dirty little girl in holey clothes and now she was thrust into a world where she noticed. Were we all doing the right thing?
I brought her back to my house and brought her into my room. She asked what I was going to wear and I showed her 2 things and had her pick out what she liked the best. She had me try them on as she judged me and told me to twirl around. We laughed and giggled and I wore what she chose. Now it was my turn to show her something.
I had purchased another Barbie shampoo and nail kit to keep at my house and I showed it to her. She grabbed it and hugged it to her chest. I also bought her another dress identical to the one cut to pieces and it was hanging behind the door. I told her to close the door and she saw it. The look in her eye was worth a million dollars to me. She hugged me. The first time! This was a little girl who when you went in to hug her she would flinch. When you put your arm around her she would flinch. I would hug her but never got one back. This was big time to me. From that day on she hugged back or even hugged first. It was wonderful.
She asked me if she could wash her hair and take a shower before she wore the dress.
I said sure. When she was done she asked me to paint her nails. So we had a bit of a spa day before we went to the theatre. She was so excited. The show as always was beautiful and she loved it. We went back to my house and she changed back into her clothes that she had on when I picked her up. I told her that these would be things we could keep at my house in her room here. So every time she comes or spends the night she will have her own things here. She liked that idea. I never said don’t tell you mom but I knew she wouldn’t. I also knew this wasn’t a good thing to be teaching her but I just didn’t care. Over time I did buy her some clothes to keep at my house. And one day when she was 12 she called them her “appropriate” clothes. I about fell off my chair. Boy how she had grown up.
Diane was in my life from age 6 through 12. At age 12 her family moved and shortly thereafter I did too. My last letter to her came back undeliverable. I have tried to find her but have only hit dead ends. It’s like they dropped off the face of the earth.
I think about her often. I hope she got out. I hope she went on to bigger and better things. I hope she was able to learn that she was worthy of love and that people who love you don’t do mean things to you or are never jealous of you.
This week was her birthday and I wondered how Diane would be doing at age 26. Hopefully she is a thriving, healthy and happy young woman.
Happy Birthday Di.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Big Brothers / Big Sisters.
I joined the Big Brothers / Big Sisters organization in 1990.
I called and asked the appropriate questions and they suggested I come to a meeting they were having to discuss the organization and to talk to some of the other people interested as well as some of the people from the organization.
I did all my due diligience and decided I really wanted to join.
I was assigned this man Bob who walked me through it all.
He would be my go-to man for questions, concerns and issues that may arise.
The first step was him coming to my home to see my living arrangements.
I cleaned like a crazy woman and Rick kept telling me they didn’t care if my underwear drawer was organized. I didn’t care I straightened it anyway.
The visit went well and Bob informed me of step 2.
The next step was that I had to take an exam, have a background check and be fingerprinted.
I understood the background check and the fingerprinting but the exam?
Bob just kept reassuring me that it was just to see if I was normal.
Now Bob was young, good looking and funny so I thought it was a joke…..until I took the exam.
I met Bob on a week day afternoon after work to take this test.
Bob gave me the test which reminded me of SAT’s and walked me to a room where I could take this in private and in solitude. Once I broke the seal and opened the exam I realized this was nothing like taking your SAT’s. The questions struck me as odd but there seemed to be a recurring theme here…..was anyone or any voices in my head telling me to do things and how much control I had over my bowels.
Stop laughing this is no lie.
There were situational questions that asked how I would handle this or that.
There were questions that just seemed to have no relevance at all to anything and I kept shaking my head but coloring in the circle. Then after all these so called normal questions there would be a “Do you have trouble controlling your bowels?” I read it, reread it and laughed. I mean seriously this isn’t what they are asking me, it must be a typo.
I skipped it. I thought I’ll go back to this later this is only the first page.
Now I am on page 3 and it is moving along and then it asks, “Do you hear voices telling you to do bad things? Is it hard to resist these voices?”
The voice in my head right now is telling me this is crazy!
Page 4 asks if I can control my bowels yet again?
What am I doing here?
What if they find out I am nuts because I can control my bowels to the point that I am constipated most of the time? Will they not give me a little sister? What the hell?
Now I have to go to the bathroom. Damn them.
Bob walks by the room and asks how everything is going?
I looked up and ask him if this is Candid Camera? He asks me why do I say that?
Honest to God blogger friends I am thinking maybe I am nuts, What does he mean how can I think that?
So I say, “Bob why does it keep asking me about my bowels.”
He laughs and tells me, “you just have to answer the questions Peggy” and he walked away.
By the end of this I have answered numerous questions peppered in between serious questions about my bowels and hearing voices. All these questions were presented in all different forms of the same question, do I hear voices and can I control my bowels?
Now I am getting paranoid. I have no issues with my bowels and there are no voices telling me to do things. Will that stop me from becoming a Big Sister? I hand in my test and I ask Bob when will I hear back from them. He said to give it a week for the background check, the fingerprint info and the test results. I’ll call you to come in to go over everything. “So you’ll let me know if I’m normal.” Laughing he said, “yes”
A week later Bob tells me that I am normal. Whew. Being constipated is a good thing I guess. There were no surprises in my background check so I was good to go. He told me about a family who he has been working with as their social worker and they have 1 young girl in the family. The family was poor. The family dynamic was a Mother, her boyfriend, 2 boys, 1 little girl. I was to meet the family and Bob would be bringing me there to introduce me.
Bob drove me over to the family home. We pulled up and I was immediately struck at the poverty. We walked into the home and I was introduced. I was appalled at the condition of the house. We sat at the kitchen table and Diane was introduced to me. She was an unbelievably gorgeous little girl. Black hair, ice blue eyes, pale porcelain skin and a little button nose. She didn’t smile or talk much. The boys were running around and being bad and I noticed that the discipline was basically just yelling obscenities at them. I looked over at Bob at one point and he just looked away from me. I thought that was odd.
The mom appeared to be what I would call slow. The boyfriend was obnoxious. He seemed like a bully to me and I did not like him at all. He was apparently the father of the youngest boy. The oldest boy and Diane had a different father. We made small talk. We discussed the arrangements and how the program worked. I didn’t get to spend any time alone with Diane that day.
As we were leaving I noticed their television and stereo system. It was huge and expensive. I wondered how they could afford that when I couldn’t have those things.
It was such an odd experience for me.
On the drive home Bob asked me what I thought. I was honest. He did tell me that the mother only had an 80 IQ. He explained why when he met them he thought Diane would be a good candidate for the Big Sister program. She appeared to be bright and smart and had the potential to break the family cycle. He thought a positive influence/role model would be beneficial in making sure she knew that.
....to be continued.
I called and asked the appropriate questions and they suggested I come to a meeting they were having to discuss the organization and to talk to some of the other people interested as well as some of the people from the organization.
I did all my due diligience and decided I really wanted to join.
I was assigned this man Bob who walked me through it all.
He would be my go-to man for questions, concerns and issues that may arise.
The first step was him coming to my home to see my living arrangements.
I cleaned like a crazy woman and Rick kept telling me they didn’t care if my underwear drawer was organized. I didn’t care I straightened it anyway.
The visit went well and Bob informed me of step 2.
The next step was that I had to take an exam, have a background check and be fingerprinted.
I understood the background check and the fingerprinting but the exam?
Bob just kept reassuring me that it was just to see if I was normal.
Now Bob was young, good looking and funny so I thought it was a joke…..until I took the exam.
I met Bob on a week day afternoon after work to take this test.
Bob gave me the test which reminded me of SAT’s and walked me to a room where I could take this in private and in solitude. Once I broke the seal and opened the exam I realized this was nothing like taking your SAT’s. The questions struck me as odd but there seemed to be a recurring theme here…..was anyone or any voices in my head telling me to do things and how much control I had over my bowels.
Stop laughing this is no lie.
There were situational questions that asked how I would handle this or that.
There were questions that just seemed to have no relevance at all to anything and I kept shaking my head but coloring in the circle. Then after all these so called normal questions there would be a “Do you have trouble controlling your bowels?” I read it, reread it and laughed. I mean seriously this isn’t what they are asking me, it must be a typo.
I skipped it. I thought I’ll go back to this later this is only the first page.
Now I am on page 3 and it is moving along and then it asks, “Do you hear voices telling you to do bad things? Is it hard to resist these voices?”
The voice in my head right now is telling me this is crazy!
Page 4 asks if I can control my bowels yet again?
What am I doing here?
What if they find out I am nuts because I can control my bowels to the point that I am constipated most of the time? Will they not give me a little sister? What the hell?
Now I have to go to the bathroom. Damn them.
Bob walks by the room and asks how everything is going?
I looked up and ask him if this is Candid Camera? He asks me why do I say that?
Honest to God blogger friends I am thinking maybe I am nuts, What does he mean how can I think that?
So I say, “Bob why does it keep asking me about my bowels.”
He laughs and tells me, “you just have to answer the questions Peggy” and he walked away.
By the end of this I have answered numerous questions peppered in between serious questions about my bowels and hearing voices. All these questions were presented in all different forms of the same question, do I hear voices and can I control my bowels?
Now I am getting paranoid. I have no issues with my bowels and there are no voices telling me to do things. Will that stop me from becoming a Big Sister? I hand in my test and I ask Bob when will I hear back from them. He said to give it a week for the background check, the fingerprint info and the test results. I’ll call you to come in to go over everything. “So you’ll let me know if I’m normal.” Laughing he said, “yes”
A week later Bob tells me that I am normal. Whew. Being constipated is a good thing I guess. There were no surprises in my background check so I was good to go. He told me about a family who he has been working with as their social worker and they have 1 young girl in the family. The family was poor. The family dynamic was a Mother, her boyfriend, 2 boys, 1 little girl. I was to meet the family and Bob would be bringing me there to introduce me.
Bob drove me over to the family home. We pulled up and I was immediately struck at the poverty. We walked into the home and I was introduced. I was appalled at the condition of the house. We sat at the kitchen table and Diane was introduced to me. She was an unbelievably gorgeous little girl. Black hair, ice blue eyes, pale porcelain skin and a little button nose. She didn’t smile or talk much. The boys were running around and being bad and I noticed that the discipline was basically just yelling obscenities at them. I looked over at Bob at one point and he just looked away from me. I thought that was odd.
The mom appeared to be what I would call slow. The boyfriend was obnoxious. He seemed like a bully to me and I did not like him at all. He was apparently the father of the youngest boy. The oldest boy and Diane had a different father. We made small talk. We discussed the arrangements and how the program worked. I didn’t get to spend any time alone with Diane that day.
As we were leaving I noticed their television and stereo system. It was huge and expensive. I wondered how they could afford that when I couldn’t have those things.
It was such an odd experience for me.
On the drive home Bob asked me what I thought. I was honest. He did tell me that the mother only had an 80 IQ. He explained why when he met them he thought Diane would be a good candidate for the Big Sister program. She appeared to be bright and smart and had the potential to break the family cycle. He thought a positive influence/role model would be beneficial in making sure she knew that.
....to be continued.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Rosie Radio
When I was in school I wanted to be a disc jockey.
I would play records in my room and use my hairbrush or perfume bottle as my microphone. I would put the record on and be ever so careful to not put the needle down until I told some facts about the band/singer or the song. Yea, I am that old that I had a turntable and I was that weird a child. I would even do commercials can you believe it? I would hold products from the bathroom linen closet like shampoos or Noxzema etc. My sisters and I laugh about this because I was a woman possessed. And my poor younger sisters would be the ones who would fetch items for me or be the "spokesmodel" and hold things and I described them. I crack up even admitting this here to you. I realize what a dork I was.
Oh, there were days that I would switch it up to being Johnny Carson in the bathroom (I thought it sounded better in there) and have them sit on the toilet while I interviewed them. Then my younger sister would hand me a product from the linen closet and I would do the commercial….and we’re back!
But I always went back to radio. Unlike me wanting to be Johnny Carson, me wanting to be a disc jokey never ever waned.
In high school I had to write about a career I would enjoy and like to pursue as well as interviewing someone who does that job. I called my favorite radio station and asked if I would be able to interview the “Morning Mayor”. The radio station was great to me and set up a time for me to call The Morning Mayor with all my questions. I vividly remember all of this like it was yesterday. Oh, I was so very excited to actually speak to this man whose job I coveted.
I was being allowed to leave the classroom and go to the school office to call the station.
I remember his answers and I remember not being nervous at all because I was thrilled beyond belief. I did my oral report, handed in my interview and both got an A. I was flying high and I was so convinced this was going to be my life. I was focused...seriously focused.
In the meantime, my guidance counselor was working with me on careers and college. I kept telling him I wanted to be a disc jockey and he kept gearing me towards being a nurse or a teacher. (Apparently, that is all he thought women could be) I told him I could never be a nurse because I was too empathetic and I would be crying all the time. A sick child would send me over the edge. I couldn’t do that job I just know me. Besides my mom was sick for 3 years and while I loved the nurses who came to my home I couldn’t do what they did for her. Teaching did appeal to me but it wasn’t my dream. I wanted to be on the radio.
The day after my report while I was still aglow from my grade and interview my guidance counselor called me to his office.
He told me he heard about my report and interview. He asked me in such a hostile way why I insisted on pursuing this idea of being a disc jockey? I told him that I want to do something I love and I know I would love this. He leaned forward against his desk and scared me a bit as he said, “Do you know why Peggy that you don’t hear too many women on the radio? Because they drone and no one wants to listen to them! You have to get this idea out of your head because you are setting yourself up for failure. Do you understand? Besides, you were in speech class for 6 years because you used to stutter and you couldn’t pronounce your R’s so you can never be on the radio!”
At this point I had tears welling up in my eyes. I was only 17 and it was 1973.
I wasn’t strong enough at the time to stand up to him. All I said was, “Yes, but I don’t stutter or have a speech impediment anymore” and I got up, walked out of his office aware of standing tall and before he saw tears running down my face. (besides it never hurt Barbara Walters to not say her R's correctly.)
My father was an Italian American man who thought the only reason women go to college is to find a husband so there was no help there. And worse yet when there were parent teacher nights my guidance counselor made it a point to tell my parents that I had to get this out of my head. That only encouraged my father to “knock” some sense into me.
When I told my father this was what I wanted my major to be in college he told me he wasn’t paying for me to go to school for something like this.
Why not be a nurse or a Nun? A nun? Oh those damn Italian Catholic fathers.
My mom died when I was 13. (breast cancer) She was always my cheerleader. But my new stepmom was a lot like my dad. I was now alone in this quest. I was the oldest so even my siblings didn’t get it.
Then in my senior year we were given this test to take. We were informed that this test would show us what we were good at and possibly lead us on a career path if we hadn’t already chosen one. (I’m thinking it was something like Myers Briggs for those of you in the corporate world that have had to take them) We were told that after we took this exam we would go over the results with our guidance counselor. Dates and times were set up for each student. The day I was to meet him I was actually excited to see what this exam told me. If I couldn’t be a disc jockey I honestly wasn’t sure what I wanted to do.
I walked into his office and he was cranky. I thought that was odd because he was young and cute and usually quite charming when he wasn’t telling me to do “girl” things.
He gave me my copy and he kept his copy in front of him. He explained the test and how this all worked. I opened it up and right there were 3 career paths they thought I was best suited for. Number 1 was DISC JOCKEY. He immediately assured me that this test does not know my gender so we are not going to even discuss that one. That explained his mood.
Number 2 was teacher. (sheesh) and I don’t even recall number 3 anymore. I left there feeling drained. I was again pummeled with words and phrases like, you’re a girl (like that was a huge negative) you can’t, you’ll NEVER, nurse, teacher, work with children, office work, you're stubborn, AAAAARRGH!!!!!
By the time I was ready to graduate everyone and I mean everyone in my school life and home life told me I couldn’t continue to think about being a disc jockey. So by the time graduation came around I didn’t know what to do with my life and so I didn’t go to college at all at graduation. (big mistake) I finally went on to college but now I was 27 years old. I loved my new career but I would still day dream about being on the radio.
I spent 21 years in software sales and contract negotiating within the travel industry.
I traveled a lot and I would always get a rental car at an airport in whatever city and I began to listen to local talk or music radio. One day while driving from LaGuardia airport to Long Island to visit a customer I was daydreaming about how my life could have graduated from music radio to talk radio and I could be doing something I love. Had it not been for it being 1973 and very few women on the radio and that dreadful “guidance” counselor whose name I still remember…. Bill Dunbar….a.k.a. The Prick.
I never wanted to be on a political radio show and I could never do a show like Howard Stern and God knows I am no Dr. Laura (or want to be) But I still dream of an opportunity of doing it for at least one day. I think I maybe too old to be on a morning drive time radio show but I think I’d enjoy the hell out of it.
And here is a funny side note. My husband and I first "met" over the phone. He told me I had a great voice. I told him I have been told that before and thanked him. I had another guy friend who said I give good phone. That cracked me up. But seriously I have heard that my whole life that I sound so good on the phone. Wouldn't that be the same on radio Bill Dunbar...a.k.a Mr.Prick?
I am listening online these days to Sirius. Right now I am really digging Rosie Radio. It’s just fun, informative and funny. No ugliness, no arguing, just talking like you're sitting with your friends. I think every day while listening, Rosie you have my dream job woman. Rosie can you hear me? If you ever call in sick can I fill in? If Google Pete needs a day off I’m your gal. If you need someone last minute when your guest’s cancel I can be on the train and be in NY in 3 hrs.
I bet her guidance counselor was probably much more supportive than The Prick.
I wonder how ole Bill Dunbar has survived in the world now that women are doctors and not just nurses, radio personalities and even Secretary of State. I hope where ever this man is he is surrounded by great strong smart women.
But here is what is funny. I got an email about someone being on Oprah's show this week. I hit the link and it gives you a test to take to see what career you'd be suited for. The test told me I was clearly a teacher. Ah crap! is all I could say.
It must have been sent by Bill Dunbar I swear....Sirius come get me and take me away!
I would play records in my room and use my hairbrush or perfume bottle as my microphone. I would put the record on and be ever so careful to not put the needle down until I told some facts about the band/singer or the song. Yea, I am that old that I had a turntable and I was that weird a child. I would even do commercials can you believe it? I would hold products from the bathroom linen closet like shampoos or Noxzema etc. My sisters and I laugh about this because I was a woman possessed. And my poor younger sisters would be the ones who would fetch items for me or be the "spokesmodel" and hold things and I described them. I crack up even admitting this here to you. I realize what a dork I was.
Oh, there were days that I would switch it up to being Johnny Carson in the bathroom (I thought it sounded better in there) and have them sit on the toilet while I interviewed them. Then my younger sister would hand me a product from the linen closet and I would do the commercial….and we’re back!
But I always went back to radio. Unlike me wanting to be Johnny Carson, me wanting to be a disc jokey never ever waned.
In high school I had to write about a career I would enjoy and like to pursue as well as interviewing someone who does that job. I called my favorite radio station and asked if I would be able to interview the “Morning Mayor”. The radio station was great to me and set up a time for me to call The Morning Mayor with all my questions. I vividly remember all of this like it was yesterday. Oh, I was so very excited to actually speak to this man whose job I coveted.
I was being allowed to leave the classroom and go to the school office to call the station.
I remember his answers and I remember not being nervous at all because I was thrilled beyond belief. I did my oral report, handed in my interview and both got an A. I was flying high and I was so convinced this was going to be my life. I was focused...seriously focused.
In the meantime, my guidance counselor was working with me on careers and college. I kept telling him I wanted to be a disc jockey and he kept gearing me towards being a nurse or a teacher. (Apparently, that is all he thought women could be) I told him I could never be a nurse because I was too empathetic and I would be crying all the time. A sick child would send me over the edge. I couldn’t do that job I just know me. Besides my mom was sick for 3 years and while I loved the nurses who came to my home I couldn’t do what they did for her. Teaching did appeal to me but it wasn’t my dream. I wanted to be on the radio.
The day after my report while I was still aglow from my grade and interview my guidance counselor called me to his office.
He told me he heard about my report and interview. He asked me in such a hostile way why I insisted on pursuing this idea of being a disc jockey? I told him that I want to do something I love and I know I would love this. He leaned forward against his desk and scared me a bit as he said, “Do you know why Peggy that you don’t hear too many women on the radio? Because they drone and no one wants to listen to them! You have to get this idea out of your head because you are setting yourself up for failure. Do you understand? Besides, you were in speech class for 6 years because you used to stutter and you couldn’t pronounce your R’s so you can never be on the radio!”
At this point I had tears welling up in my eyes. I was only 17 and it was 1973.
I wasn’t strong enough at the time to stand up to him. All I said was, “Yes, but I don’t stutter or have a speech impediment anymore” and I got up, walked out of his office aware of standing tall and before he saw tears running down my face. (besides it never hurt Barbara Walters to not say her R's correctly.)
My father was an Italian American man who thought the only reason women go to college is to find a husband so there was no help there. And worse yet when there were parent teacher nights my guidance counselor made it a point to tell my parents that I had to get this out of my head. That only encouraged my father to “knock” some sense into me.
When I told my father this was what I wanted my major to be in college he told me he wasn’t paying for me to go to school for something like this.
Why not be a nurse or a Nun? A nun? Oh those damn Italian Catholic fathers.
My mom died when I was 13. (breast cancer) She was always my cheerleader. But my new stepmom was a lot like my dad. I was now alone in this quest. I was the oldest so even my siblings didn’t get it.
Then in my senior year we were given this test to take. We were informed that this test would show us what we were good at and possibly lead us on a career path if we hadn’t already chosen one. (I’m thinking it was something like Myers Briggs for those of you in the corporate world that have had to take them) We were told that after we took this exam we would go over the results with our guidance counselor. Dates and times were set up for each student. The day I was to meet him I was actually excited to see what this exam told me. If I couldn’t be a disc jockey I honestly wasn’t sure what I wanted to do.
I walked into his office and he was cranky. I thought that was odd because he was young and cute and usually quite charming when he wasn’t telling me to do “girl” things.
He gave me my copy and he kept his copy in front of him. He explained the test and how this all worked. I opened it up and right there were 3 career paths they thought I was best suited for. Number 1 was DISC JOCKEY. He immediately assured me that this test does not know my gender so we are not going to even discuss that one. That explained his mood.
Number 2 was teacher. (sheesh) and I don’t even recall number 3 anymore. I left there feeling drained. I was again pummeled with words and phrases like, you’re a girl (like that was a huge negative) you can’t, you’ll NEVER, nurse, teacher, work with children, office work, you're stubborn, AAAAARRGH!!!!!
By the time I was ready to graduate everyone and I mean everyone in my school life and home life told me I couldn’t continue to think about being a disc jockey. So by the time graduation came around I didn’t know what to do with my life and so I didn’t go to college at all at graduation. (big mistake) I finally went on to college but now I was 27 years old. I loved my new career but I would still day dream about being on the radio.
I spent 21 years in software sales and contract negotiating within the travel industry.
I traveled a lot and I would always get a rental car at an airport in whatever city and I began to listen to local talk or music radio. One day while driving from LaGuardia airport to Long Island to visit a customer I was daydreaming about how my life could have graduated from music radio to talk radio and I could be doing something I love. Had it not been for it being 1973 and very few women on the radio and that dreadful “guidance” counselor whose name I still remember…. Bill Dunbar….a.k.a. The Prick.
I never wanted to be on a political radio show and I could never do a show like Howard Stern and God knows I am no Dr. Laura (or want to be) But I still dream of an opportunity of doing it for at least one day. I think I maybe too old to be on a morning drive time radio show but I think I’d enjoy the hell out of it.
And here is a funny side note. My husband and I first "met" over the phone. He told me I had a great voice. I told him I have been told that before and thanked him. I had another guy friend who said I give good phone. That cracked me up. But seriously I have heard that my whole life that I sound so good on the phone. Wouldn't that be the same on radio Bill Dunbar...a.k.a Mr.Prick?
I am listening online these days to Sirius. Right now I am really digging Rosie Radio. It’s just fun, informative and funny. No ugliness, no arguing, just talking like you're sitting with your friends. I think every day while listening, Rosie you have my dream job woman. Rosie can you hear me? If you ever call in sick can I fill in? If Google Pete needs a day off I’m your gal. If you need someone last minute when your guest’s cancel I can be on the train and be in NY in 3 hrs.
I bet her guidance counselor was probably much more supportive than The Prick.
I wonder how ole Bill Dunbar has survived in the world now that women are doctors and not just nurses, radio personalities and even Secretary of State. I hope where ever this man is he is surrounded by great strong smart women.
But here is what is funny. I got an email about someone being on Oprah's show this week. I hit the link and it gives you a test to take to see what career you'd be suited for. The test told me I was clearly a teacher. Ah crap! is all I could say.
It must have been sent by Bill Dunbar I swear....Sirius come get me and take me away!
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