Blame Facebook, Not Obama

Recently, I was out to dinner with my friend while I was in Chicago.

Our conversation went a little like this:

Him: My friends, *Dick and *Jane, they have this...

Me: Oh, I totally know them! I saw them on your FB page. She is REALLY pretty! Is that weird?

Him: No, I totally stalk your FB page, too. It's fine.

Me: Okay, good.

So it made me think... Facebook has seriously taken over the world. As awkward as this particular situation was not, it seems so bizarre to me to know so much about other people who I have very little personal contact with and care so little about. Not you, Clint...you know you're the best thing that ever came out of Facebook to me and you're now on my Top 5 Favorite Men In My Life list. And if you ever quit Facebook, I will never be the same. 

It made me wonder what if I ran into someone who I am really not friends with, never was, but have been acquainted somehow in the past, and now I know from their status updates that they just had their 15th child, beat cancer, just redesigned their kitchen, and is contemplating getting a new family pet.

"Hi, I know everything about you, more than I have ever known even when and if we ever were real friends so hey, good luck with everything, way to go, and congratulations!"

I mean, it's kind of weird.

Is conversation going to become extinct? Between texting, emailing, and Facebooking, who needs to talk? How many times, in conversation, do you hear or say, "Oh I know, I saw it on Facebook." Well, what in the hell is there to talk about now???

I realize that due to everyone being so busy that this has become the best way to keep updated with your friends and family, and also, living so far away from my friends and family, it's a great tool for me. I get it. I will also say that there are several people who I haven't been great friends with in the past, but I thoroughly enjoy now.


I am not being a Facebook hater, I appreciate it for so many reasons. I mean, I really don't know what I would do without all of those quotes people put in their statuses. I often wonder if they have one of those "rip off the day" calendars they are reading from. Listen, I expect this from some people because that's who they are, but hey, Confucius, if you don't have anything to say, then just be quiet. It's okay. No one will forget about you.

*Names have been changed due to lack of remembering their real names. Okay, not really, I'm just pretending I forgot. I know their names and their kid's name.

Thanks, but that's not really necessary.

I just had the best and worst grocery shopping experience.

I went grocery shopping this morning since I thought it safe to assume most people around here would be in church.

I was right. By the time I was leaving, families were arriving in herds in their church garb.

Anyway, I shop at this grocery store quite often. I really kind of love it. It's very nice and I enjoy the people it attracts, mostly. The best parts of the grocery store are the beginning and the end. The beginning is the produce and bakery, which is where I do most of my shopping. The end is all of the frozen food, which I also enjoy because I get a lot of my vegetarian items there. The other stuff is all just stuff in the middle that has very little excitement value to me. Just in case you were wondering my preferences.

The employees are always very friendly and welcoming. Today, however, by the end of my shopping experience I began to feel like the friendliness was getting quite annoying. Every employee greeted me, asked me how I was doing today, and if I was finding everything okay. As I walked along the frozen foods, I thought to myself, "I should get a t-shirt that says, 'Hi. Good. Yes. Thanks.' and wear it when I shop here." It kind of became a game and I tried to hurry past the employees before they had a chance to say anything to me. I got by one lady without the schpeel. And then I thought that she probably wasn't a very good employee.

So then I am walking by the check out lines, scanning for the shortest line. Another employee, but manager looking type, started walking with me and told me that it looked like the lady in Line 9 was just about finished.

Great...thanks! (unnecessary, but nice)

He then helped me pull my basket into the line and offers to put my groceries on the conveyor belt and before I can answer he is pulling everything out of my basket.  By the way, people down here call them "buggies". I think it's cute, but it's not natural for me so I can't do it. Kinda like how Europeans call vacation "holiday". I like that, too, but let's face it. Americans don't talk like that. We totally got ripped off in the language and accent department.

Now what happens next is typical here. The bagger always asks to take your groceries out to your car for you. I ALWAYS decline, except one time when the kid insisted. It was very uncomfortable.

Can you believe it? Can you believe how willing and eager people are to be nice and helpful? I don't even really think it has anything to do with the South (for the record there are plenty of rude people down here so don't even think about giving them credit for this). I think it has everything to do with the store policies.

Oh, the reason why it was the also the worst experience is because I'm a bit uncomfortable with people being really nice to me. I don't want any rudeness coming my way, but the over the top niceties make me really awkward.

I feel like I should give a little shout out to the store, for what it's worth. Here ya go, Publix. (I know! I thought it was just a storage place, too!)

I want my puppy back.

This past week has been full of adventure, fun, excitement, dread, and sadness. I know! Busy! I actually wasn't going to write about any of it because it's too much, but then I mowed the grass and crazy things happen in my head when I get behind that lawnmower.

If you saw my yard, you would understand. It now looks like a collage of grids. I don't even care.

I was in Chicago for work this past week. That, in itself makes me appreciative. I appreciate the work, and I appreciate being in one of my fave cities. A super huge added bonus is that I get to reunite with my friends. Little makes me happier.

While I was gone, Scott found a puppy. I'm not a dog person. I'm not an indoor animal person at all actually. So I knew that when I got home I would have the task of finding this puppy a home or taking him to the no-kill shelter. I got home Thursday afternoon and Scott was leaving on Friday for the weekend. This puppy took to me like I was his mother. He loved me. I took him everywhere with me...partially because I wanted to find him a home, partially because I didn't want him making a mess at my home, and partially because it was kind of fun to have him around. And he was SO good, it was easy. Well, as easy as carting around a 6 yr old, 20 mo old, and new puppy can be. If only I could have put Olivia on a leash.

Saturday morning, Emma had a football game for which she had to cheer. Naturally...actually, not-so-naturally, I brought the puppy with us. I met this couple who was really interested in the puppy, live on the water, and have lots of land...perfect space for this dog, really. They gave me their phone number had I decided to give the puppy up. I went home, talked to Scott and Emma, and met the new owners an hour later.

I got back in the car, and Emma was very upset. I felt terrible. I felt bad for her, bad for me, and bad for the dog. He REALLY liked me. And I liked him way more than I ever expected. I was his favorite. I'm no one's favorite. Everyone in this house likes Scott the best.

The next obvious thing was to get mad at Scott for bringing home a puppy, going out of town, and leaving me with the responsibility of figuring out what to do with him. Thanks, Scott. Now we're all attached to a puppy that's going to grow to be bigger than me. I know I made the sensible decision, but I still feel awful. 

Finally, I'm someone's favorite and I gave him away.

Catching a Break...Or Not

Yesterday, Emma came home from school and I started going through her folder. Her spelling test was in there so I took a look. "A" 93%... Being the spelling bee that I was (am), I have a lot of interest in this so I see she has spelled the word "help", "hlep". So I yell for her, "Emmaaaa..."

And she yells back from the other room, "I know, I know, I know! I moved my crayon today. Marcus and Harrison both sit next to me though and talk."

"What does that have to do with you?"

"I talk back to them."

So I look at her calendar where her teacher either gives them a smiley face if they didn't have to move their crayon because they were good/listened all day, a straight face if they move it once, a squiggly face if they move it twice, and a sad face if they've been terrible. She's had a couple straight faces, once for playing in the restroom and the other time for pinching Marcus. He pinched her, she pinched him, he pinched her again harder and she told on him so they both had to move their crayon. The lesson? If you pinch someone back, you can't tell on them. Whatever. Anyway, Emma had a smiley face yesterday.

So I go back to her room where she is to tell her that she had a smiley face and that I was just calling for her because she spelled "help" wrong.

She smiles and says, "Oh. Weeeellllllll, my teacher decided to give me a little.....break, I guess."

I love that kid.

Leathers Language

Last night Emma and I were watching Glee. Scott ridicules me over and over about it, but I don't care. 

Emma loves Glee. She loves the singing and dancing and is mesmerized by it. I love that she loves it. What I don't love is when they say words like slut, knocked up, and "what the hell are you doing". Especially when Discouraging Scott walks by. I don't like it either, and I'm trying to figure it out. She doesn't watch it all the time, and about 15 minutes before it was for-real over I pretended it was over and turned it off...shortly after Sue shouted, "What the hell are you doing?" and the two cheerleaders got in a knock down-hair pulling-school hallway fight.

Fine, Scott wins.

Until...Emma started singing Billionaire. "Freaking" isn't a great word for a 6 year old. On Kids Bop 18 they say "very" instead of "freaking". "Let's go with that," I tell Emma. She doesn't go for it. Then, she says, "How about if I say, 'So f-ing bad...'"
"No, I don't want to hear anything sounding like f-ing or freaking coming out of your mouth."
She doesn't stop until finally I threaten to put soap in her mouth if I ever hear her say it again.
Done.

On another note...  Olivia's new word is "doobies." It's what we call our boobies in the Leathers house. Compliments of 2 year old Emma.

Weekend Warrior

I spent this past weekend in Illinois...in the beautiful, 75 degree FALL weather, away from the 95 degree fake Alabama Fall weather.With no kids and no husband.  

Going to Northern Illinois in the Fall is tricky. It makes you think really wonderful things about the Midwest. All of a sudden I forgot about the -20 degree winters. And I forgot about the short summers. But that's what Fall does. It makes you like the Midwest.

I had a great weekend with friends and family. We started the weekend right away. Friday night we went to the Rockford Market. If you live in Rockford and haven't gone yet, you're missing out. Finally, they are making something out of the downtown, and for once, I felt like Rockford actually may be doing something right. Saturday I visited with my cousins and aunts, and I realize now why my 31 week pregnant with twins cousin is on bed rest. After 4 hours of visiting, we were all shouting over each other and at each other. All in love, of course. Saturday night friends and I went to the Cubs/Brewers game in Milwaukee, which I'm pretty sure that collectively, the 9 of us girls, probably saw about 5 minutes of the game. Holy commotion. Sunday I attended my friend's wedding in Chicago. It was a beautiful day and again, made me miss home. Boo. Hoo.

So I was driving home from the airport Monday night, appreciating Alabama's 70 mph speed limit when I remembered that I have a parking ticket in Chicago from when I was there in June. I received a parking ticket on Lake Shore for parking in a no parking zone during rush hour. I contested it (of course) because it was Memorial Day! There is no rush hour on Memorial Day! So I contested it and forgot about it...until two days ago. I never heard back from anyone. Does this mean I am in the clear? Or am I wanted in Chicago? Here's the problem. I have a teensy weensy flash of memory of receiving a letter regarding a ticket I contested and yelling to Scott, "I won! I won!" I can't remember if that was from this ticket or if it was another ticket I had contested for not having a front license plate when I was parked outside the Chicago Diner.

No wonder people don't drive in the city. So many rules.

A Cry For Help

I'm still addicted to television.

It's depressing, definitely pathetic, and Scott is complaining that I don't communicate very well.

That's because I don't have anything to talk about, I tell him. The stuff that goes on in my life lately isn't really real. And it's kind of embarrassing.

Now if you want to talk about the Bachelor Pad (which makes me feel dirty, and not in a good way) I have a lot to say. I hate watching this show. It's TV that makes me feel bad watching it. The only good person on that show was Gia, and they voted her off. The girls are so stupid and they trust those guys way too much. They're all pathetic and super dumb and I get a bad feeling inside when I watch it. But I continue to do so.

Master Chef? I love Gordon Ramsay so much that he has made a debut on my Top 5 Favorite Men In My Life list. And I don't even really know him. Well, possibly I do know him...he doesn't know me. (I told you it's pathetic.) I'm the biggest cheerleader for these amateur chefs. I was a little disappointed last night when they had to kill a crab by boiling it alive. I'm a vegetarian who eats seafood, but after last night, I can't even eat that anymore. If only chocolate had to be killed...

Don't get me started on those Kardashians. Once I was so mad at Kourtney for taking back that idiot loser Scott, I looked online for a way to tell her how stupid she is and that she can do better than that stupid jerk who is so obviously using her. I didn't though. I regained control and realized how ridiculous this would be.

Glee has me feeling like a teenager. I tried to get Emma into it so I could at least blame it on her, and contribute it to "mother/daughter time"...it worked for a little while, but then school got in the way. She hates school, and I'm starting to hate it, too.


And I'm afraid that people like Chelsea Handler and Jeff Lewis reinforce bad behavior and serious sarcasm by me. They make me a worse person. And I don't even really mind it.

Now I am going to go get a life.

No, I'm not.