I love baby feet. Especially these ones:
They belong to Luke and they just are asking to be kissed and tickled don't you think?
I love that little boy. :-)
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Why?
Most people blog to keep in touch with friends and family or perhaps because they have some aspirations of being a witty journalist in some online E-zine. Me? Well I mostly do it to put off doing my homework, or instead of shoveling the driveway, and sometimes just so that I have an excuse to sit at my computer and do nothing. I don't think that anyone really reads this EVER, and I havent given the address to very many of my friends and family. So really what is the point?
The point is, that I can sit here and tell this blank screen that today I cleaned my entire bathroom, (with Lysol, not just a damp piece of toilet paper to clean the gunk off the mirror so I can see in it.) I vacuumed the stairs which I loathe doing because I inevitably will drop the vacuum cleaner down the stairs or on my foot. I scrubbed the oven and stove top until it sparkled. I DUSTED THE TV! (and believe it or not there is nothing wrong with the picture it was just dirty) I did dishes, organized my closet, and even mopped the floor....and I feel pretty proud of myself.
And you know what? This blank screen won't tell me to shut up, or mention that no one cares, or tell me that everyone cleans their house, works full time jobs, takes care of their family members and goes to school as well. This blank screen won't make me feel insignificant, or inferior or even try to one up me. And I really like that feeling....
Especially after a crappy crappy weekend.
So now, with my dish pan hands, Im gonna go enjoy a glass of wine. Because this blank screen won't tell me that drinking by myself is inappropriate.
....that's grandma's job, and she comes tomorrow....(did i dust on top of the entertainment center yet....???!!!)
The point is, that I can sit here and tell this blank screen that today I cleaned my entire bathroom, (with Lysol, not just a damp piece of toilet paper to clean the gunk off the mirror so I can see in it.) I vacuumed the stairs which I loathe doing because I inevitably will drop the vacuum cleaner down the stairs or on my foot. I scrubbed the oven and stove top until it sparkled. I DUSTED THE TV! (and believe it or not there is nothing wrong with the picture it was just dirty) I did dishes, organized my closet, and even mopped the floor....and I feel pretty proud of myself.
And you know what? This blank screen won't tell me to shut up, or mention that no one cares, or tell me that everyone cleans their house, works full time jobs, takes care of their family members and goes to school as well. This blank screen won't make me feel insignificant, or inferior or even try to one up me. And I really like that feeling....
Especially after a crappy crappy weekend.
So now, with my dish pan hands, Im gonna go enjoy a glass of wine. Because this blank screen won't tell me that drinking by myself is inappropriate.
....that's grandma's job, and she comes tomorrow....(did i dust on top of the entertainment center yet....???!!!)
Friday, March 02, 2007
A lil lonely
So last night, I had a wonderful hot bubble bath with Julia-Roberts-pretty-woman mountains of bubbles. I turned on the radio, I shaved my legs...and relaxed. I opened that tiny, little bottle of ridiculously expensive French moisturizer that I bought in a cute boutique in London and slatherd it all over myself. It felt wonderful by the way, my legs felt like satin. I slipped into my nightgown that looked so incredibly sexy on the model in the catalog, and looks like a tent on me...and climbed into my freshly made bed...me, a book and my dog...and then I cried. Hysterically. Because it just seems like a waste of a cute nightie and expensive lotion to be snuggling down in bed by myself. again.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Waitress for life
Last night I hated my job....I frequently hate my job. I am a waitress/bartender/"manager" at a little BBQ place in Brockport. I would rather shovel the snow out of all my neighbors driveways then go to work this morning.
Me: "Hi, My name is Molly, I'll be taking care of you this evening. Can I get you all something to drink?"
Lady: "No thank you. I'll just have a water."
OK....are you going to get that your self? Maybe drink out of the bathroom sink?
(that same woman tipped 8%.......don't ever tip 8% ok?)
One of our managers: "Its not the managers' job to roll silverware."
Ummm.....I am also a manager. Yes it is your job as we have none rolled and its a busy Friday night. It is also your job to seat tables, bus tables, make drinks, scoop ice, pour waters, sweep the floors, clean the bathrooms, make salads, run the fryers, do dishes, stock beer, and do anything else that may be necessary for the proper management and function of the restaurant. Hence the title manager.
It is also important to note that since I don't purchase the food or prepare the food it is not my fault that the portion size may be smaller than you "remembered", "expected", "wanted", or "could eat the entire thing in two bites"...... please remember that waitstaff makes 4-something an hour and we're propbably starving, tired, and our feet hurt. Most of us are also probably going to school full time, paying all of our bills on 4-something an hour....and really would appreciate it if you would tip us according to our service not the food that WE DON'T MAKE.
Thank you and now I am off to bartend at my favorite establishment in brockport.
Me: "Hi, My name is Molly, I'll be taking care of you this evening. Can I get you all something to drink?"
Lady: "No thank you. I'll just have a water."
OK....are you going to get that your self? Maybe drink out of the bathroom sink?
(that same woman tipped 8%.......don't ever tip 8% ok?)
One of our managers: "Its not the managers' job to roll silverware."
Ummm.....I am also a manager. Yes it is your job as we have none rolled and its a busy Friday night. It is also your job to seat tables, bus tables, make drinks, scoop ice, pour waters, sweep the floors, clean the bathrooms, make salads, run the fryers, do dishes, stock beer, and do anything else that may be necessary for the proper management and function of the restaurant. Hence the title manager.
It is also important to note that since I don't purchase the food or prepare the food it is not my fault that the portion size may be smaller than you "remembered", "expected", "wanted", or "could eat the entire thing in two bites"...... please remember that waitstaff makes 4-something an hour and we're propbably starving, tired, and our feet hurt. Most of us are also probably going to school full time, paying all of our bills on 4-something an hour....and really would appreciate it if you would tip us according to our service not the food that WE DON'T MAKE.
Thank you and now I am off to bartend at my favorite establishment in brockport.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Winterfest Weekend
I had a fantastic weekend. I slept in. I used three of the fluffiest pillows I have ever laid my head on, while watching a movie that required little or no thought processes to enjoy, while drinking a wonderful glass of wine. I ate dessert...alot of dessert. I wore a large squirrel costume in a parade. (don't ask) I spent time with people I love that was not interrupted by thoughts of school work, laundry or bills to be paid. I smiled...
...today I return to reality. But...life is good.
...today I return to reality. But...life is good.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Won't you be my neighbor?
Sometimes as I travel through my daily life I think to myself that "people just suck". Today at Walmart I watched as a young woman plowed an elderly couple down in the underwear aisle. She knocked two boxes of pantyhose out of the older woman's hands as she raced for what she must have thought was the last package of white women's ankle socks. (I assure you that Hanes and Walmart have cooperated to ensure that they are fully stocked with white women's ankle socks.) The young woman neither apologized nor appeared to notice that she had collided with the elderly couple and continued her frenzied race around the store...I picked up the pantyhose. The older woman looked at me as though I was trying to steal her stockings, grabbed them from me, and walked away. There was no thank you.
So then I went to fill my gas tank. I haven't been able to put more than ten dollars in the tank this week because its so darn cold out there that my hands fall off and I just stop pumping. So the light has been flashing at me for two days and I figured I would rather have my hands fall off then be stranded on the side of the road somewhere...So I park, pull the little lever to open the tank, get out of my car and twist the cap....it doesn't move. I try again, harder this time. I grunt. I twist. I put my whole body weight into it. I look around to see if anyone is watching....I try again. I put my foot on the side of the car for leverage and just pull....."Cap stuck?" some really observant young man at the next pump asks. "Yes" I look at him helplessly. Shrug my shoulders. Pout a little. Bat my eyelashes.... "That sucks." He replies as he gets in his vehicle and drives away. My low gas light is still flashing....
So I come home completely convinced that this world is full of mean and heartless individuals and find that someone has plowed my driveway while I was at work. Possibly the same someone that dragged a tree limb out of it a month ago, and most likely the same someone who lifted my car back onto the driveway when I drove off of it. (I have really steep edges of my driveway, marked by old railroad ties and I have been known to not back up straight and drive off the edge wedging my tires between the ground and the railroad tie. and I left it there one afternoon and got a ride to work because I was going to be really late only to find that while I was gone someone had "unstuck" it.)
I love my mystery neighbor. There are good people on this planet. And I feel warm and fuzzy now.
...I wonder if I have enough gas to make it to school tonight.
So then I went to fill my gas tank. I haven't been able to put more than ten dollars in the tank this week because its so darn cold out there that my hands fall off and I just stop pumping. So the light has been flashing at me for two days and I figured I would rather have my hands fall off then be stranded on the side of the road somewhere...So I park, pull the little lever to open the tank, get out of my car and twist the cap....it doesn't move. I try again, harder this time. I grunt. I twist. I put my whole body weight into it. I look around to see if anyone is watching....I try again. I put my foot on the side of the car for leverage and just pull....."Cap stuck?" some really observant young man at the next pump asks. "Yes" I look at him helplessly. Shrug my shoulders. Pout a little. Bat my eyelashes.... "That sucks." He replies as he gets in his vehicle and drives away. My low gas light is still flashing....
So I come home completely convinced that this world is full of mean and heartless individuals and find that someone has plowed my driveway while I was at work. Possibly the same someone that dragged a tree limb out of it a month ago, and most likely the same someone who lifted my car back onto the driveway when I drove off of it. (I have really steep edges of my driveway, marked by old railroad ties and I have been known to not back up straight and drive off the edge wedging my tires between the ground and the railroad tie. and I left it there one afternoon and got a ride to work because I was going to be really late only to find that while I was gone someone had "unstuck" it.)
I love my mystery neighbor. There are good people on this planet. And I feel warm and fuzzy now.
...I wonder if I have enough gas to make it to school tonight.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Taylor Swift: Our Song
I was riding shotgun with my hair undone
in the front seat of his car
he's got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel
the other on my heart
i look around, turn the radio down
he says "baby is something wrong?"
i say" nothing i was just thinking how we don't have a song and he says...
CHORUS:
our song is the slamming screen door, sneakin' out late, tapping on your window.
when you're on the phone and you talk real slow cause it's late and your mama don't know
our song is the way you laugh
the first date "man, i didn't kiss her, but i should have"
and when i got home...before i said amen asking God if he could play it again
I love this song, 'cause we don't have one either. But its more like:
crickets and fishing poles, walkin' out back to our favorite swimming hole,
snowmobiles and fast cars, pick-up trucks and camp fires
hugs that last for hours, watchin' fireflies dance and stars fall
sayin' good bye and waiting for another phone call.
I was riding shotgun with my hair undone
in the front seat of his car
he's got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel
the other on my heart
i look around, turn the radio down
he says "baby is something wrong?"
i say" nothing i was just thinking how we don't have a song and he says...
CHORUS:
our song is the slamming screen door, sneakin' out late, tapping on your window.
when you're on the phone and you talk real slow cause it's late and your mama don't know
our song is the way you laugh
the first date "man, i didn't kiss her, but i should have"
and when i got home...before i said amen asking God if he could play it again
I love this song, 'cause we don't have one either. But its more like:
crickets and fishing poles, walkin' out back to our favorite swimming hole,
snowmobiles and fast cars, pick-up trucks and camp fires
hugs that last for hours, watchin' fireflies dance and stars fall
sayin' good bye and waiting for another phone call.
Brr
It is cold. And not just a little cold. Really freaking cold. I would like to stay bundled in my sweats with a blanket and Penny on the couch.....but no I have to go to school where by the way the heat turns off in the building around 7:00 and class goes until 7:45. That is all.
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