Dear Lord

I have a few requests regarding my son.

• May he have a happy life.
• May he find a fulfilling, honest vocation.
• May he know what it feels like to fall in love.
• May he learn from his mistakes.
• May he experience relief from his teething.
• May he please sleep past 5 AM tomorrow.

Amen

Wake Me When It's. . .

actually, forget it.  Let me sleep in.

Some Things Are Just Too Important

Anyone who knew me when the United States on the verge of our entry into Iraq would be able to tell you that I vehemently opposed that action.  Let's just say, I didn't mince words.


I've been stewing a lot on the topic of Syria and all comparisons to Iraq.  I tend to be pretty anti-war, and I have known people who served in Iraq.  I am not inconsiderate of the problems of military conflict.  I would like to point out some key differences between Iraq and Syria.

1. Iraq was pre-emptive.  I had major issues with that.  Syria is not.
2. France wants to intervene.  FRANCE!  What is this?  Opposite day?
3. Russia is sending lobbyists to the United States to urge legislators to vote against action in Syria.  For those who are less into following the news than I am, Russia has taken on more of a human rights are optional approach in recent years.  If I was a legislator, I wouldn't want to risk being caught within 20 yards of these lobbyists.
4. On a personal note, I am now a mother, and I wasn't before Iraq.  When I see what seron did to innocent children, all I can think is, "How can anyone with the power to stop this refuse to stop it?"  All notions of moral superiority go out the window when children are killed and the rest of the world takes a hands-off approach.  The video in the news coverage of the suffering breaks my heart.  Why are some children more worth protecting than others?

I hate war, and I hate violence.  But I hate that some want to idly sit back and watch.

"We" Has a Problem

I generally think of my having a Bachelor's in English as an asset in my working life despite the frequently perceived lack of job opportunities for the degree. It is the rare occasion that it proves an absolute problem.

While I love many aspects of grammar, I am the first to acknowledge that there are some things that I don't love. Like naming verb tenses. I like to say that my degree is my poetic license. I can break the rules for art's sake. He he.

Then there is the word "we," which as a garden variety pronoun is perfectly fine. With years of team sports in my youth, I can even appreciate "we."

The problem with "we" was barely noticeable in the beginning. I would be at work and I would hear someone say, "We need to do this . . . . We should do that . . . ." There's also the similar "Let's do this." The problem? I took them literally. I knew that this was something that "we" would did and expected the speaker to follow up with what I was supposed to do. They would come back expressing surprise when it wasn't done.

They didn't mean "we." They meant "you."

You need to do this.

You should do this.

To borrow a turn of phrase, we have a problem.

I feel an obligation to drive my new greatest grammatical pet peeve out of existence.

"Hey, Karen. We need do this."

"Okay, what part of it do you want to do, and what part of it do you want me to do?"

Or if I am feeling rather annoyed,

"So are we going to do it, or do you mean you want me to do it?"

Nothing quite like being direct. Others might deem it negative. Po-TAY-to. Po-TAH-to. Let's call the whole thing off.

I am rather found of the path of least resistance, or as I like to call it, passive-aggressive. If I am truly annoyed by someone's request for what is their idea and their responsibility and they pull the "we" trick, I harken back to my more naive days. I do nothing until they actually tell me what they want me to do.

Childish? Definitely. But I believe that some of the best learning comes from mistakes. Make a lame suggestion about how "we" should do it. Take no ownership for coordinating a group effort that a "we" indicates. Complain that it didn't get done. Learn that our=my and conclude that it isn't "our" fault.

Time for the Annual Post

Okay. It's been awhile since I've written, but in my defense, it's been a hectic 18 months. Cancer (my dad, now in remission.) Wonky schedule (the joys of working.) The addition of a second child (it's a boy!)

Okay, so the writing hasn't happened, but I have found time to read a few books for fun in the last year. Maybe there's hope for me.

Oh Yeah, I Have a Blog...

a kid, a full-time job, a husband, and little discipline for writing. The odd thing is, this year, I've felt more like writing. Maybe it's because I get to sleep again. I keep thinking if I install Naturally Speaking on my comp, I'll do better. But I doubt it. Maybe I should just post frequently enough to get all the old posts to disappear.

Timing Is Everything

Little did I know that when I bought my new car, the subject of my last post, I was expecting. Yeah, that kind of expecting. And as I write this, I am holding my 3 month-old daughter.

It's Been a Long Strange Trip

I have a love/hate/love relationship with my vehicle. It's a Chevy Blazer with over 300,000 miles on it. It really amazes me that it doesn't have more problems. More often than not, I'm using it to come to the aid of someone else with car problems.

When one honeymoon began, the other ended. Returning from our honeymoon, my starter, which had been throwing fits, gave up the ghost. I had to tow it the half block to the local garage to get it fixed. So talks of a replacement began. Since it has multiple issues, the concern became trade it in while you still can. So I'm taking it back to my hometown to make the change to a car payment (yikes!) The tentative plan was next week as it fits with work.

Then the latest scary car sound from hell started. Theories range from A to B, alternator or a bearing (sp?) So it goes to the local garage tomorrow, thankfully under its own power. Then the question becomes how much am I willing to spend to make sure that I can driving it the 4 hours home to trade it in, or do I put it on a trailer and haul it to my parents place, unload, and drive it to the dealer.

I'm a fan of it be a cheap repair, so I can take it on one last trip.

I Did It

I said, "I do."

I'm officially an old married lady. I informed my husband on the honeymoon that since I no longer had to worry about fitting into the wedding dress, I was going to let myself go.

It's not like I had the chance. Honeymooning in DC involves lots of walking. Lots. The kind of walking that leads one to struggle to move once you do sit down.

All in all, I am really elated.

As I told the pastor a few days before the wedding, "I was grinning like an idiot this morning while cleaning the toilet, and I hate cleaning the toilet. That's love."

Most of my co-workers are married and/or divorced and were pretty convinced that I would get nervous the day of. I didn't. Oh, there are some great photos of me walking down the aisle with my chin all wrinkled up as I tried not to cry (managed not to shed a tear.)

My reality was that the closer that it got to the wedding, the more excited I became. There were so many friends and family that I hadn't seen in years, and it just seemed like everyone who came really helped make it wonderful.

I still can't help grinning like an idiot when I think about it. I married this amazing guy. My husband. My husband. For so long, he was my b/f, then the fiance. I've gotten used to the new signature, but it amazes me to think that he's my husband.

I know that I'm still in the honeymoon glow, and that newness of the marriage will fade. But I can't help feeling excited about our lives together. I just want bottle it or capture the feeling for a moment so that when the inevitable rough times come, I can remember how excited, blessed, and lucky I feel right now.

Middle Aged

It's been coming on so slowly that I've barely noticed. Oh sure, there are moments at work, but for the most part, my job gives me energy. But everyone has there breaking point.

Mine happened with a phone call. Oddly enough, I was the one placing the call. There was a click on the line after dialing. Then music. Okay, I guess I'm on hold. Wait, I guess I'm not. I made another call a few hours later. "Please enjoy the following song while your call is connected." Or something like it. I was forced to listen to music that I would probably never choose to listen to. Yeah, I'm getting too old for some of this cell phone media wizardry.

Oh. My. God.

The fiance and I went and picked up "the ring."

I have always stressed that I am low maintenance in the jewelry department. My mom never had an engagement ring, and my parents have been married over 35 years. Diamonds don't guarantee a happy marriage. Come on, I had to have my ears repierced last weekend.

My future husband was adamant about a nice ring for me, and when I started looking, I must admit that I found that I like the look of diamonds. So we picked a beautiful solitaire, planning a wrap to complete it as a wedding ring.

We now have our wedding bands ready for the ceremony. It was hard giving up the engagement ring, knowing that I won't wear it again until October. My claddagh ring is insufficient. When I tried on the finished work, it fit perfectly. Is it weird that the weight of band reminds me of the seriousness of the commitment?

Arghhhhhhh!

I hate stress. Hate it. HATE IT. HAAAAAAAATE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I don't get it. I'm smart. I try to be a good person. I try to help those in need.

Between my job and my upcoming wedding....AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

I know...

It Was the Summer of '84

I remember the day clearly. It was a hot, dry day, not unlike those we've been experiencing lately. I had been eagerly waiting for this day, and it had finally arrived. I was nervous, but I was ready. I walked in with my mom. It was the beauty salon where our neighbor worked, and with minimal tears and not minimal pain, I had my ears pierced.

A few short hours, I was invited to the city pool. My new ear bling forced me to decline the offer, and I wasn't much interested in having my ears pierced anymore. In fact, the last time that I wore earrings was for a dorm formal back in college, ... "a few" years ago. I basically had to reopen a part of the piercing to get the earrings in. Needless to say, my piercings closed years ago.

I had my ears repierced tonight. I am a vain, vain woman. I want to wear cute earrings for my wedding, and I knew clip-ons wouldn't cut it.

Since I don't have a regular salon and I'm lazy, I got it done at the mall. I swear that I was old enough to be the mother of every girl in the store, including the employees. My fiance in tow, I went up to the counter and said that I wanted my ears pierced. I think my vocabulary may have been a bit advanced because I swear that I heard crickets chirping in the silence.

The assistant manager to me over to look at studs and then went to get someone else to do because she hadn't been trained.

"Oh my God."

I kid you not. These were my exact thoughts.

Another girl comes over to help, and I am relieved that she looks like a high school graduate and the oldest employee in the store. After some general confusion about what they had in stock, I make my selection and start signing on enough lines that I thought I might have a house in escrow.

I loved filling in my age and date of birth. It led to the following discussion...

Misc Karen: "Ha. My age. I'm probably twice the age of your average customer."

Teenage Piercer: "You're probably twice my age."

(Yes, she did actually say this. Completely deadpan.)

MK: "How old are you?"

TP: "16."

MK: "I'm not quite there yet."

TP: "Oh, really? I was just joking."

MK: "No, I'll be twice your age in November."

That is when the crickets started chirping again.

She eventually dots my ears with a purple pen on my old holes so that I can greenlight the location. These dots were the size of large acne. She could have put them in about three different spots in the mark. I okayed it, trusting she couldn't mess up putting them in the old spots.

I got home, looked in the mirror, and noticed that the one in the left ear is higher than the one on the right. I'm hoping that once they heal it won't be as noticeable, and if worse comes to worse, I'll let them close up after the wedding.

Man, This Is the Song Stuck in My Head This Weekend

Swing, Batter, Batter, Swing!

Okay, I'm disappointed. I ca admit it. I was really hoping that Barry Bonds wouldn't get the record. I know "innocent until proven guilty" but I think he had to have been taking performance enhancing drugs. As such, I don't think he deserves to be memorialized. Then again, I pretty much think all athletes are overpaid. That being said, I hope the Seattle tells the Sonics to shove it when it comes to a new arena and that the Sonics enjoy Oklahoma City.

Gimme a D'oh

Okay, so I'm getting my blog back into shape after ages of neglect. I have temporarily put aside my awesome design until I can afford my own hosting to return it to its former glory. I'm putting back my long-lost links. Thank God that Unkymoods is now back as Punkymoods. Then while fiddling with my blogger dashboard, I discover that I had 50+ comments (most from over a year ago) waiting to be moderated to show up on my blog. Looks like I have some settings to adjust.

In other news, t-minus 3 months to the wedding. I have prided myself on my attempts to not be a bridezilla. The fiance and best man called me Bridezilla once, and I basically reared my Bridezilla head. Otherwise, much mellowness. My mantra on most wedding related items, "Is it something we'll ever use again? No? Then we don't need it."

Oh, in catching up on news from the last year. We have a dog now, Buddy (I tried to get him named Black or Coke.) Our cat, Jack, hates Buddy. Despite being maybe a fifth the size of Buddy, Jack is still the alpha pet. I'd post photos, but the last time I posted photos of Jack on the blog, I started getting all these strange referrals from what looked like "adult" sites, and the thought of adult sites referring to photos of my cat creeped me out beyond words.

Back to the Template : (

It's with mixed emotion that I bring back the blogger.com template. I now have a title to my blog again, but I don't have the elements of Jen's cool design. With over a year away from the blog, it is almost like I'm starting from scratch, again. And it's not like I've even had much of life in my absence. Maybe this weekend I'll get some of my old links back.

The News Is Out

Well, I haven't been around for awhile, but that's because I can't keep secrets, and there were a few people I had to talk to in person.

I am engaged!

Coming to wedding near you in Fall 2007 .

A Moment's Reflection

All week long I've been planning on blogging about how I'm doing on my New Year's resolutions as we approach the halfway mark, then I discovered I didn't make any which is sad, because I'm not doing half bad. (End grammatically poor run-on sentence.)

So here's how I'm doing on my non-existent New Year's Resolutions

1. New job - Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner. I start my new job in less than a month and this is my first announcement of it on the blog. Back in February, I had a post about something big in the works. This was it. Oddly enough, it was with the same employer, it just took forever to get the interview setup. It's nonprofit work and I get to use my master's degree. The b/f and I move in a month to the new job's city, which is where he's been commuting for months now. Much happiness and progress on this front.

2. Blog/Writing - yeah, no comment.

3. Weight loss - More like weight gain. I am at a new all-time high, something I'm not proud of and have been rather bummed about. Last night, I formulated a plan to kickstart the new era of weight. How many pounds can I leave behind in the month before my move? Tonight I made a grilled chicken wrap with assorted veggies and had a small dish of ice cream with lowfat granola. I've even done 50 crunches this evening. A small start, but when I get to the new digs (which amazingly come with a pool) I plan to step up the exercise.

4. Finances - I'd say I'm breaking even for the year, but considering that I'm still rebuilding after the fire, not bad.

A Bad Box of Hangover

Saturday morning was misery thanks to almost a full bottle of red wine Friday night. Plus, I developed a cold to go with it. Oh, and the b/f and I spend the better part of the day out of town.