There are some serious problems simmering in my household. An explosion of epic proportions is due any moment. I don't even know where to hide, for the inevitable meltdown of my psyche and home.
First issue: After having posted an urgent plea on FaceBook, not one of my friends came to my rescue. My simple request? I was in desperate need of a legitimate excuse to not have to clean my bathroom. Oh, sure, everyone agreed with me on the horrid chore that it is. But no one offered a way to squirm out of it.
Some one out there could have broken into my car, started our house on fire, found a way to start a tsunami and made us have to evacuate, left a piglet crying on my doorstep in need of a good rub down. Nothing. It's not like they have to clean their own bathrooms, or something. They probably all have a cleaning service to do all household chores for them. Because I know that I am the only person in the U.S. to have to scrub their own toilet.
Second issue: My teenage son has decided to quit honoring his mother. No respect from that off-spring that caused me to scream at his birthing. All I asked was that he help me make my bed. Because second to scouring foot grime off of the bathtub, I truly loathe putting on sheets, blankets and bedspread. Don't even get me started about pillowcases.
I tried every thing I could think of to gain his assistance. From guilt trips about the jacket I bought him today and all the painful effort it took to earn the money for it, to over blown compliments about how extraordinarily gifted he is at putting together bedding. Nothing worked. He has called my bluff and now refuses to tuck in the fitted sheet, or lay the blankets in place.
Finally, I threatened to never make dinner for him ever again. And can you believe this? He thinks I'm joshing. Just wait until tomorrow night when I feed his share of the tofu meatloaf to our dogs. Hah. He'll not be laughing then.
He actually said that I was old enough to make it myself! Where is the love here, people?
The only compensation for us poor, poor mothers, is that half glass of Cabernet waiting for me on the kitchen counter.
And the warm, clean, freshly made bed to clamber into and read a John Updike novel. And, well, I guess the sudsy bath I can take tonight while drinking the half glass of Cabernet.
So, I suppose my life is not a catastrophic mess.
But I am still feeding his tofu meatloaf to the dogs. Or making him eat it. Whichever he protests the most about, that shall be his non-bed-making consequence.
I am the hardcore, mean mother.
Heather Leigh,
Cleaned Out, Suffering Mother
Tuesday, September 27, 2016
Thursday, September 15, 2016
Zombie Frogs
There is a great fear that I know must be shared by multitudes of people: What would happen if the Zombie Apocalypse occurs while I am in the gym jacuzzi? As I crawl my way out with melted, mushy muscles and brain, it would be easy to mistake my form for the Undead. I could be shot with a silver bullet and have my head bashed in with a shovel before making it to my brand new, eco-friendly Prius.
Is there a label for this justified and common fear?
Another issue that needs to be labeled is the condition of falling tree frogs. (Background knowledge for you: there are two maple trees on either side of our driveway. Their branches, thick with foliage, hang over my brand new, eco-friendly Prius). While driving on the highway last week, a tree frog crawled out from underneath my window wiper blade.
She stared at me through the front window glass.
This must be a common occurrence with tree frogs--falling off of their tree home onto car windshields, and then crawling under wiper blades for comfort. But as we could not converse, neither of us speaking the other's language, I could not be sure if this was a suicide attempt, or a leap of desired adventure. Knowing this would help greatly in determining a proper label for her actions.
Now all of this leads up to what you have each been thinking: do frogs worry about becoming zombies?
If so, what can we do to help alleviate their fears? The first step, obviously, is to label this psychosis. Ideas: TFZF, tree frog zombie fear; Frogbie Disorder; Undead TR Obsession.
Once a label name has been established, us caring humans will have to start outreach committees and support groups. It is the only right thing to do in this situation.
Wow. Now that I see that my fears of Jacuzzi Zombie Mistaken Identity Disorder are nothing compared to my green friend's issues, I feel a mighty compassion overtaking me. My anxieties have disappeared. Thank you, tree frog, for bringing me to this new found sense of peace.
Namaste, tree frog.
Lastly:
If this were a High School Quiz posting, this would be my question to test your reading skills: What kind of car do I own?
Don't worry about the tree frog. She was safely re-homed at the edge of the Humboldt Bay, on a bed of tasty grass. No animals, or amphibians, were harmed in the making of this blog.
Heather Leigh,
Writer at Peace
Is there a label for this justified and common fear?
Another issue that needs to be labeled is the condition of falling tree frogs. (Background knowledge for you: there are two maple trees on either side of our driveway. Their branches, thick with foliage, hang over my brand new, eco-friendly Prius). While driving on the highway last week, a tree frog crawled out from underneath my window wiper blade.
She stared at me through the front window glass.
This must be a common occurrence with tree frogs--falling off of their tree home onto car windshields, and then crawling under wiper blades for comfort. But as we could not converse, neither of us speaking the other's language, I could not be sure if this was a suicide attempt, or a leap of desired adventure. Knowing this would help greatly in determining a proper label for her actions.
Now all of this leads up to what you have each been thinking: do frogs worry about becoming zombies?
If so, what can we do to help alleviate their fears? The first step, obviously, is to label this psychosis. Ideas: TFZF, tree frog zombie fear; Frogbie Disorder; Undead TR Obsession.
Once a label name has been established, us caring humans will have to start outreach committees and support groups. It is the only right thing to do in this situation.
Wow. Now that I see that my fears of Jacuzzi Zombie Mistaken Identity Disorder are nothing compared to my green friend's issues, I feel a mighty compassion overtaking me. My anxieties have disappeared. Thank you, tree frog, for bringing me to this new found sense of peace.
Namaste, tree frog.
Lastly:
If this were a High School Quiz posting, this would be my question to test your reading skills: What kind of car do I own?
Don't worry about the tree frog. She was safely re-homed at the edge of the Humboldt Bay, on a bed of tasty grass. No animals, or amphibians, were harmed in the making of this blog.
Heather Leigh,
Writer at Peace
Wednesday, August 24, 2016
WIne Writer Research
I just finished a research study and here are my conclusions:
1. When wine is drunk in half servings, the recipient gets just as tipsy as if it had been full servings. Who knew? Totally unexpected.
2. Know matter how much of an emotional roller coaster your day was, wine puts the brakes on your ride. As long as you stop at several half servings (see #1), the evening will be much better.
3. The belief that chocolate covered caramels have a direct correlation to an increase in waist size is incorrect. It is your belief that makes this so--not the candy. This comes directly from the teachings of Jesus, Gandi, and Bacchus, the god of wine and good times.
These are all legit because:
1. I had a case research group consisting of one (that would be me, of course) and that is more than enough to prove any point.
2. It is on the internet, so it must be true.
3. I am a really, really, really smart scientific writer.
My current research study:
Is it better to drink Cabernet while making dinner, eating it, or after getting home from soaking in the gym jacuzzi? More study needed.
As I have recently discovered a preference to Pinot Noir, another study will soon be conducted with this wine. See number one and two of the conclusion list.
Whew, these studies are wearing me out. Guess I had better not go to Pilates tomorrow. It will be much better for my health if I go for pie and lattes instead.
In reading this over, I am amazed at the intensity and focus that I devote to ensuring that the reading public is served with honesty and accuracy. My college Science teacher would be so proud that I have gone beyond trying not to cheat to pass her tests, to being a fellow colleague. Yes, I have come a long way, baby.
The other thing that I need improvement on is my choice of co-workers. Today, I undertook my main assignment in life: to assist people in the art of laughter. My tools were a cupcake brought in by the manager, a cup of plums, paper and pen. While the manager was at lunch, I hid her cupcake in a very safe, incredibly mysterious area. In it's place, I placed a cup of plums and a note: HELP! I've been kidnapped and hidden in... (a description of the room would go here. Since you have never been in that room, no use describing it to you).
Any who, when the manager returned, one of my prank-killing co-workers asked her if she had seen the cupcake. She completely ruined the prank!!! Now the manager knew something was going on. Why was the co-worker not fired?! Or, at least tarred and feathered. Where is the justice in this world? Her actions are not Making America Great Again.
So what do I do now? I am obviously a scientific wonder with wine research, but am unable to find a way to severely punish prank-destroyers.
Guess I had better drink another glass of Pinot Noir and muse on what to do save my mischievous nature from being crushed by tattle-tellers.
Heather Leigh,
Enjoyer of Wine and Pranks
1. When wine is drunk in half servings, the recipient gets just as tipsy as if it had been full servings. Who knew? Totally unexpected.
2. Know matter how much of an emotional roller coaster your day was, wine puts the brakes on your ride. As long as you stop at several half servings (see #1), the evening will be much better.
3. The belief that chocolate covered caramels have a direct correlation to an increase in waist size is incorrect. It is your belief that makes this so--not the candy. This comes directly from the teachings of Jesus, Gandi, and Bacchus, the god of wine and good times.
These are all legit because:
1. I had a case research group consisting of one (that would be me, of course) and that is more than enough to prove any point.
2. It is on the internet, so it must be true.
3. I am a really, really, really smart scientific writer.
My current research study:
Is it better to drink Cabernet while making dinner, eating it, or after getting home from soaking in the gym jacuzzi? More study needed.
As I have recently discovered a preference to Pinot Noir, another study will soon be conducted with this wine. See number one and two of the conclusion list.
Whew, these studies are wearing me out. Guess I had better not go to Pilates tomorrow. It will be much better for my health if I go for pie and lattes instead.
In reading this over, I am amazed at the intensity and focus that I devote to ensuring that the reading public is served with honesty and accuracy. My college Science teacher would be so proud that I have gone beyond trying not to cheat to pass her tests, to being a fellow colleague. Yes, I have come a long way, baby.
The other thing that I need improvement on is my choice of co-workers. Today, I undertook my main assignment in life: to assist people in the art of laughter. My tools were a cupcake brought in by the manager, a cup of plums, paper and pen. While the manager was at lunch, I hid her cupcake in a very safe, incredibly mysterious area. In it's place, I placed a cup of plums and a note: HELP! I've been kidnapped and hidden in... (a description of the room would go here. Since you have never been in that room, no use describing it to you).
Any who, when the manager returned, one of my prank-killing co-workers asked her if she had seen the cupcake. She completely ruined the prank!!! Now the manager knew something was going on. Why was the co-worker not fired?! Or, at least tarred and feathered. Where is the justice in this world? Her actions are not Making America Great Again.
So what do I do now? I am obviously a scientific wonder with wine research, but am unable to find a way to severely punish prank-destroyers.
Guess I had better drink another glass of Pinot Noir and muse on what to do save my mischievous nature from being crushed by tattle-tellers.
Heather Leigh,
Enjoyer of Wine and Pranks
Monday, August 8, 2016
Hair And Jobs
Several months ago, my hairstylist talked me into an almost, double-layered bob that cuts just above the chin level. And I look like a young European! It has completely changed my personality. Fashion questions? Hit me with them. I am ready to tell you which infinity scarf goes with those ripped, faded, pre-creased skinny jeans. Going from the opera to the local diner? Let me set you up with silver bangles and bling-bling pumps.
Okay, I can't even fake it. Even with my fashionable hairdo, I am not your swag stylist. It is pure luck and a good day if I can figure out which tee-shirt won't make a mockery of my skirt of choice for the day.
In the words of some great philosopher, 'Know Thyself'. As I know that putting clothes together that my teenagers are not embarrassed by, is beyond my brain waves, I strive toward other talents. The talent that I yearn to have is to be a great, or at least an eighth of a grain of some of my favorite authors, writer.
If that ever proves to be un-doable, I feel a need to make a list of day jobs to be ready to fulfill. Hmmm. How about:
Writer's desks are notoriously messy. It makes us more creative. I am willing to come to your house, and decorate it in the Writer Mode. This includes at least two empty, dirty mugs, several notepads with halfway-started story ideas, three flung open thesaurus', and five dust collecting, figurines believed to radiate plot lines. For an extra charge, I will throw in a back scratcher and scalp massager.
For those lucky work-at-home types, I will choose the pets that will best interrupt your work. This could be anywhere from a cat that knows how to fling himself across your key board, to a chinchilla so cute you have to stop and watch it jump and do flips every fifteen minutes. I'll even bet I could train a dog to press her paw on the keyboard delete button and destroy the work you spent an entire morning on. Challenges in the work place keep us on our toes, and cause us to be better workers.
Are you an office worker? Every Friday, I will come to your work place and set all clocks in the building ten minutes ahead. You'll avoid rush hour traffic and be home sooner! This is a must have service that helps not only you, but co-workers as well. It can be your anonymous gift to the world.
Wow. Three great ideas. And here I was thinking that I was going to be stuck in the profession that gives me complete bliss, and serves as my creative outlet for the rest of my life. Whew. Thank goodness I can rest easy tonight. I can do anything I want.
When you are ready to hire me for my three new professions, please drop me a message on FaceBook. Of course, I am working on the the revisions of my latest Scout and Ellie book, so it might be a bit before I get back to you.
But when I do return your job request, let's do it by Skype. You just have to see my new 'do.
Have a great work day!
Heather Leigh,
Creative Genius In Job Ideas
Okay, I can't even fake it. Even with my fashionable hairdo, I am not your swag stylist. It is pure luck and a good day if I can figure out which tee-shirt won't make a mockery of my skirt of choice for the day.
In the words of some great philosopher, 'Know Thyself'. As I know that putting clothes together that my teenagers are not embarrassed by, is beyond my brain waves, I strive toward other talents. The talent that I yearn to have is to be a great, or at least an eighth of a grain of some of my favorite authors, writer.
If that ever proves to be un-doable, I feel a need to make a list of day jobs to be ready to fulfill. Hmmm. How about:
Writer's desks are notoriously messy. It makes us more creative. I am willing to come to your house, and decorate it in the Writer Mode. This includes at least two empty, dirty mugs, several notepads with halfway-started story ideas, three flung open thesaurus', and five dust collecting, figurines believed to radiate plot lines. For an extra charge, I will throw in a back scratcher and scalp massager.
For those lucky work-at-home types, I will choose the pets that will best interrupt your work. This could be anywhere from a cat that knows how to fling himself across your key board, to a chinchilla so cute you have to stop and watch it jump and do flips every fifteen minutes. I'll even bet I could train a dog to press her paw on the keyboard delete button and destroy the work you spent an entire morning on. Challenges in the work place keep us on our toes, and cause us to be better workers.
Are you an office worker? Every Friday, I will come to your work place and set all clocks in the building ten minutes ahead. You'll avoid rush hour traffic and be home sooner! This is a must have service that helps not only you, but co-workers as well. It can be your anonymous gift to the world.
Wow. Three great ideas. And here I was thinking that I was going to be stuck in the profession that gives me complete bliss, and serves as my creative outlet for the rest of my life. Whew. Thank goodness I can rest easy tonight. I can do anything I want.
When you are ready to hire me for my three new professions, please drop me a message on FaceBook. Of course, I am working on the the revisions of my latest Scout and Ellie book, so it might be a bit before I get back to you.
But when I do return your job request, let's do it by Skype. You just have to see my new 'do.
Have a great work day!
Heather Leigh,
Creative Genius In Job Ideas
Sunday, July 31, 2016
A Different Outcome in 1492
In fourteen ninety-two, Columbus sailed the ocean blue. And on that same day, Chief Trump had a Vision. What he saw filled him with fear and anger. So he called together the people of land. The Chief shared his vision of the future:
Most of us will die. The land will be destroyed. Water will be unsafe to drink; air clogged in smoke.
The people huddled together, shrinking from this future.
Is there nothing we can do? They asked.
Already, the white masts of three ships containing religious extremists could be seen on the horizon.
And Chief Trump responded,"Yes, but we must hurry. Our only way out is to build a wall."
"YES! YES! BUILD THE WALL! BUILD THE WALL!" the people cried.
And so, they built a wall.
In twenty sixteen, the wall can still be seen. And on that same day, the ancestors of Chief Trump looked around. They saw a land filled with indigenous people. Rich soil, safe water, clear skies. A beautiful country.
Yes, now I see why European Trump supporters want to build a wall. They are afraid of what our ancestors did when they took over this country, will happen to them.
Heather Leigh,
understanding the wall
Most of us will die. The land will be destroyed. Water will be unsafe to drink; air clogged in smoke.
The people huddled together, shrinking from this future.
Is there nothing we can do? They asked.
Already, the white masts of three ships containing religious extremists could be seen on the horizon.
And Chief Trump responded,"Yes, but we must hurry. Our only way out is to build a wall."
"YES! YES! BUILD THE WALL! BUILD THE WALL!" the people cried.
And so, they built a wall.
In twenty sixteen, the wall can still be seen. And on that same day, the ancestors of Chief Trump looked around. They saw a land filled with indigenous people. Rich soil, safe water, clear skies. A beautiful country.
Yes, now I see why European Trump supporters want to build a wall. They are afraid of what our ancestors did when they took over this country, will happen to them.
Heather Leigh,
understanding the wall
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Body-less Closets
I made the commitment to myself that I was finally going to do this. No more hiding, no more shucking around the truth of who I am. I'm coming out of the closet to reveal that...I see dead people.
If you know me personally and never were aware of my secret 'other' self, well there it is. Like a Disco Mirror Ball hanging on the ceiling of a cowboy bar, the song of my soul is shining out to be heard.
I assume that most everyone who sees those who have passed, experiences them in a different way. Twice I've seen ghosts with the sight of my eyes. The rest have been as a ...gosh how do I explain this. It will have to be through personal example. About a month ago, I was with a co-worker, and an image came into my head of someone with shoulder length gray hair, sitting on his legs with knees bent, sipping tea. When I told her what I was seeing, she informed me that was her father, who had passed away several years ago. I never knew that her father was dead.
In movies, ghosts are normally portrayed as something evil and scary. That's not true. It's like Hollywood has an anti-ghostism based on fear of the unknown. Or based on a greed to sensationalize the dead and attract movie goers. I'd form a Union for the misrepresented ghosts, but I don't think many people would see the members showing up. Plus, I don't think ghosts give a hoot what bodied people think about them.
There are other's out there who lay witness to the dead. I wonder how big that crowd of weirdos is. Many have already exposed themselves; the Psychic Readers that dot our cities with their signs are one such group. But what if I started a club of us Non-body Sight See-ers. How many would show up to the first meeting? If I look far enough into the future, I can imagine whole days of parades and festivities of Ghost See-ers Pride Day. I'll start working on a more original title for us now.
If you think it bizarre that I see these things, think of it from my end. It's like if your friend came up to you while we were talking, and you completely blew them off. I mean, we are talking total ignore to the ultimate in rudeness. Well, I'd be thinking, why doesn't she acknowledge her friend? Did they get in a fight or something? Sheesh, bad manners; not even an introduction.
And then I remember, oh yeah. We have different views.
So there it is. I've come clean. There are other things about me I have yet to reveal, but this was enough for now. Oh, and it's not something I see all the time. So don't come speeding over to my house, expecting me to talk with your dearly departed. I refuse to ask spirits to come for a visit. They have their own gig on their side of the divide. It is impertinent to ask them to stop by for a chat. Rather, they are like cats, showing up on their terms, or when we need them.
Have a great day and remember to say hello to the ghosts who visit you.
Heather Leigh,
author, and polite to the bodiless
If you know me personally and never were aware of my secret 'other' self, well there it is. Like a Disco Mirror Ball hanging on the ceiling of a cowboy bar, the song of my soul is shining out to be heard.
I assume that most everyone who sees those who have passed, experiences them in a different way. Twice I've seen ghosts with the sight of my eyes. The rest have been as a ...gosh how do I explain this. It will have to be through personal example. About a month ago, I was with a co-worker, and an image came into my head of someone with shoulder length gray hair, sitting on his legs with knees bent, sipping tea. When I told her what I was seeing, she informed me that was her father, who had passed away several years ago. I never knew that her father was dead.
In movies, ghosts are normally portrayed as something evil and scary. That's not true. It's like Hollywood has an anti-ghostism based on fear of the unknown. Or based on a greed to sensationalize the dead and attract movie goers. I'd form a Union for the misrepresented ghosts, but I don't think many people would see the members showing up. Plus, I don't think ghosts give a hoot what bodied people think about them.
There are other's out there who lay witness to the dead. I wonder how big that crowd of weirdos is. Many have already exposed themselves; the Psychic Readers that dot our cities with their signs are one such group. But what if I started a club of us Non-body Sight See-ers. How many would show up to the first meeting? If I look far enough into the future, I can imagine whole days of parades and festivities of Ghost See-ers Pride Day. I'll start working on a more original title for us now.
If you think it bizarre that I see these things, think of it from my end. It's like if your friend came up to you while we were talking, and you completely blew them off. I mean, we are talking total ignore to the ultimate in rudeness. Well, I'd be thinking, why doesn't she acknowledge her friend? Did they get in a fight or something? Sheesh, bad manners; not even an introduction.
And then I remember, oh yeah. We have different views.
So there it is. I've come clean. There are other things about me I have yet to reveal, but this was enough for now. Oh, and it's not something I see all the time. So don't come speeding over to my house, expecting me to talk with your dearly departed. I refuse to ask spirits to come for a visit. They have their own gig on their side of the divide. It is impertinent to ask them to stop by for a chat. Rather, they are like cats, showing up on their terms, or when we need them.
Have a great day and remember to say hello to the ghosts who visit you.
Heather Leigh,
author, and polite to the bodiless
Thursday, June 16, 2016
Pooh And IRS Ettiquette
Why do people leave the bathroom door open just a crack after they've poohed? All other times, it's wide open and welcoming. Do they think the scent flushes away with the toilet? Because it does not. What does happen is that when I open the door to do my thing, I am smashed in the nose with someone else's left overs.
Proper bathroom etiquette: leave the door flung open and proud. Aeration is the key to downplaying what you have left behind.
I'll tell you one organization that knows proper etiquette...the IRS. If you were not one of the lucky millions who read my blog about the big tax showdown we had, I'll fill you in. There was a mistake made two years ago by the accounting firm of my previous employer. As a result, I was being told to pay the IRS one grand, plus interest. After a wee bit of stress, paperwork, the benevolent assistance of that employer, it was finally straightened out after several months.
And, OF COURSE, our fine, upstanding income tax governing officials sent the news that I had never lied in the first place, in a gift basket. Contents: chocolate covered sea salt caramels, spice drops, and a pastel colored Pashmina. They wanted to send a bottle of fine Italian Cabernet, but the Republican controlled Congress said no to free alcohol.
Those IRS folks so live up to their name: IRService. They just know how to serve the public. They do us proud.
Now that I've covered pooh and the IRS (funny how that fits so well in one sentence), I can get to what I really wanted to discuss. Facebook. Yesterday, my cousin with a sense of humor (I have more than one, so he'll have to figure out who he is on his own) posted a questionnaire that reveals whether or not you"re a nerd. If you get the jokes, you are one.
I got the jokes.
But, I've always known this about myself. Did I really need self-geek knowledge smacked into my face like trapped pooh scent?
Since we are one the subject of Facebook, here is my latest whine about that love/hate site that I can't get enough of: all of those stupid kids who are on there doing perfectly amazing things. Twelve year olds singing opera like the fat lady cliche, pre-teen sisters strumming guitars with half the talent of Eric Clapton, dancing children who could take on Micheal Jackson (if he was alive). I know I should be glowing with excitement each time I see this stuff, but the thrill is gone. What truly gets my nerdy, correct pooh etiquette mind going, is the people I encounter every day.
Here is the part where I reveal the cold hard core of my nerd nature: I think 'everyday' people are awesome and amazing. When you watch them unawares, there is beauty in their faces and movements. Listening to individual stories of childhood and current situations gives surprises and viewpoints that fill me with this settling of soulful bliss.
Where do I find these weirdos? A horde of them are co-workers. They know who they are.
Anyways, let's all take a moment to send the IRS a silent thank you for Heather's gift basket. Because, we all know they would never be unthoughtful.
Heather Leigh,
Nerd With Chocolate Caramels
Proper bathroom etiquette: leave the door flung open and proud. Aeration is the key to downplaying what you have left behind.
I'll tell you one organization that knows proper etiquette...the IRS. If you were not one of the lucky millions who read my blog about the big tax showdown we had, I'll fill you in. There was a mistake made two years ago by the accounting firm of my previous employer. As a result, I was being told to pay the IRS one grand, plus interest. After a wee bit of stress, paperwork, the benevolent assistance of that employer, it was finally straightened out after several months.
And, OF COURSE, our fine, upstanding income tax governing officials sent the news that I had never lied in the first place, in a gift basket. Contents: chocolate covered sea salt caramels, spice drops, and a pastel colored Pashmina. They wanted to send a bottle of fine Italian Cabernet, but the Republican controlled Congress said no to free alcohol.
Those IRS folks so live up to their name: IRService. They just know how to serve the public. They do us proud.
Now that I've covered pooh and the IRS (funny how that fits so well in one sentence), I can get to what I really wanted to discuss. Facebook. Yesterday, my cousin with a sense of humor (I have more than one, so he'll have to figure out who he is on his own) posted a questionnaire that reveals whether or not you"re a nerd. If you get the jokes, you are one.
I got the jokes.
But, I've always known this about myself. Did I really need self-geek knowledge smacked into my face like trapped pooh scent?
Since we are one the subject of Facebook, here is my latest whine about that love/hate site that I can't get enough of: all of those stupid kids who are on there doing perfectly amazing things. Twelve year olds singing opera like the fat lady cliche, pre-teen sisters strumming guitars with half the talent of Eric Clapton, dancing children who could take on Micheal Jackson (if he was alive). I know I should be glowing with excitement each time I see this stuff, but the thrill is gone. What truly gets my nerdy, correct pooh etiquette mind going, is the people I encounter every day.
Here is the part where I reveal the cold hard core of my nerd nature: I think 'everyday' people are awesome and amazing. When you watch them unawares, there is beauty in their faces and movements. Listening to individual stories of childhood and current situations gives surprises and viewpoints that fill me with this settling of soulful bliss.
Where do I find these weirdos? A horde of them are co-workers. They know who they are.
Anyways, let's all take a moment to send the IRS a silent thank you for Heather's gift basket. Because, we all know they would never be unthoughtful.
Heather Leigh,
Nerd With Chocolate Caramels
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