Twitter Will Take Us All to Hel...

I guess from the title you can guess that I don't Twitter, Tweet or Twat. I have twiddled on an occasion and it did involve thumbs but no electronic device.

I do not see the need for Twitter. No real conversation or learning takes place. Do I care what Shaq or Ashton Kutcher had for breakfast? (the answer is NO). Do I need to know what my friends are doing every minute of the day? (again, NO) Do I really care if you are standing in line at Target? My concern is the constant interruption that takes place in our lives with cell phones, Facebook, Twitter, email etc. must be impacting us somehow.

We already prescribe lots drugs to people for Attention Deficit Disorder. Am I the only person to see a connection here? Yes, I know ADD has been around longer than Twitter but maybe there is a link or pattern with the evolvement of our technology. Most of technology is interruptive. Even the beeps on my microwave disrupts my thoughts. I think Twitter signals the end of Knowledge. It is the ultimate waste of time and energy. And, its the ultimate form of narcissm. Does anyone lose themselves in a book anymore? Does anyone really and truly focus on anything? I have my own struggles but I blame my children calling "Mom" 678 times a day for my ADD.

I read a book about an owl that a woman raised and tamed and something she said in it stood out to me. She was studying some owls that would come out at night and hoot and screech in some trees over a parking lot. She would go out to record their calls and monitor their behavior. She noticed almost every single person that passed her or parked there NEVER HEARD THE OWLS. They never even glanced up. According to her these owls were loud. I remember thinking "I hope I am never so out of touch with my surroundings that I wouldn't hear a bird singing or an owl." Many days I am dying to "unplug" and "go off the grid." No phone, no t.v., no email.....just a book and a beer and maybe a hammock.

There are plenty who will hate what I am saying and defend their darling Twitter. Well, I beg to disagree. You are entitled to Twitter, its a free country, but don't bring it around me. I may pull out my fly Swatter or my Swiffer and take out your Twitter.

*after I posted I found this on Brenda's site (thanks Brenda!)http://my-spot-on-earth.blogspot.com/

this is an article about the younger gen wishing their parents would stay out of their business aka the boomers are hogging and changing Facebook and Twitter. http://tech.msn.com/news/articlepcw.aspx?cp-documentid=19904693&GT1=40000

I Still Hate Facebook

First of all, I am back on Facebook. I know, I know. I bitched, I moaned and I insulted, degraded, stomped with my stiletto the almighty Facebook. What can I say? Peer pressure.

I don't really spend time on it. I still think its pretty worthless communication. There are certain people that feel the need to tell everyone who will listen what they are doing....EVERY MINUTE OF THE DAY. I am not one of them.

Tonight I was bored and had just sipped down two glasses of wine (a lovely pinot noir, since you asked) several people had begged to be my friend so I was confirming them and then I decided to look up an old boyfriend. Okay, maybe he was more than an old boyfriend. We dated two years, lived together for about 6 months. I guess you could say he was my first love. He was every parents nightmare and became mine by the end. No matter. He is still the guy that you kinda, sorta hope to run into one day, just to see him. Now we have Facebook. I got to see a picture of him all these years later....damn, he still looks good.

I didn't ask him to be my friend. No thank you. I did get to see his friend list. Its all women. All 94 of them. Many are from Columbia or Puerto Rico - WTF? Is he a gigolo now? Is he smuggling in immigrants?

The last I heard he was banned from a certain state for stealing a computer or something. His ex had called my parents home wanting to know if I would testify that he abused me - to which my mother told me she answered "No, Debbie was never abused."

My mother comes close to Harold's mother in the movie Harold and Maude (look it up and Netflix it). Rather than ask me if I was abused, she answered how she wanted. Okay, other than some major name calling (verbal abuse) and the time he broke most of my unicorns in my collection (unicorn abuse), no real abuse took place.

So how do I wrap this all up?

Facebook = still bad.
"Harold and Maude" = must see movie for everyone!
Old Boyfriends = only gotten worse!

A Rant about Bathrooms

I spend my fair share of time in bathrooms. Don't get all squeemish on me - its a fact, you do too. Couple this with the amount of time I spend on the road for my job in sales. I have become an expert in the public bathroom. And, with that, I have my usual pet peeve list:

1. Bathrooms that get cute with the signage. You know, pictures of people instead of the usual "Men" or "Women" signs. I was in an asian restaurant one time that did this and there was hardly any difference in the pictures. Both depicted a figure wearing a robe with straight black hair - dancing. Dancing because they couldn't figure out which bathroom to go into???? I waited until someone came out and then based my decision on their previous decision. I have been walked in on by a man who made a hasty judgement call so my fear is justified.

2. Stalls that you can hardly turn around in. If I was a man I could walk straight in, stand there and do my biz, then just back out. Women don't get the option of standing or sitting. We have to walk in, turn around, sit down and then reverse. There are some bathrooms that you can hardly close the door without hitting your knees on it. I am a small person so I am not sure how a large person does it.

3. Bathrooms with "fake you out" soap dispensers. A lot of bathrooms will have a built in soap dispenser but they don't use it and place another on the counter. This results in a dry pump.

4. Bathrooms where I have to wave at everything. I don't mind waving at my soap dispenser, then the water and then the towel but anymore I am not sure if it is an old fashioned crank/handle/pump or not. So, I am waving wildly at everything in there.

5. Stalls that have 3" gaps around the door. Why bother even shutting the door? Or stalls where you have to lift the door to get the lock to fit.

6. While I deplore defacing public property, I do enjoy a bit of bathroom graffiti now and then, such as:

"Go home Mom, You're Drunk" or

"If you miss when you piss, be a sweety and wipe the seaty" or this oldy but a goody,

"Here I sit broken-hearted, I came to shit but only farted."

Nothing like little bathroom humor.

The Time has Come...

I have been counting down the years, months, weeks and days for four years. Four years until I would go bonkers on the train to Crazy Town.

We got the oldest commissioned on a Friday and graduated from college on a Saturday. He is now a second lieutenant in the U.S. Army, Artillery division.

I was on the verge of tears the entire week of the event. Anything would cause them to start pouring. I don't even watch TLC's Jon and Kate plus 8 but I cried for them. I made the mistake of seeing the movie "Earth" that week. The daddy polar bear scene had me boo-hooing into my popcorn.

We all loaded into the car that day, preparing to make the hour long drive to the college campus. As the hubby drove, I thought of my eldest child and all the different people he had been as he grew and changed.

You see, when I think of Chris, I think of the different personalities he was at different ages. He was my always happy baby, despite chronic ear infections. I would take him in for a "well baby" check up, only to learn he had a horrific ear infection.

I remember the giggly two year old watching t.v. with me one night. Coors beer had a song and slogan that went "its the right beer now". Something about that made Chris giggle and he started singing, "Its the wight beer now!!" over and over, making he and I both hysterical with laughter.

I remember the little boy who dressed up as a Ninja Turtle almost daily so he could battle the evil Shredder.

I remember the elementary student who read more than 300 books to make the "Diamond Reading Club." He wanted to read the most but some girl (who obviously had no life) read over a thousand.

I remember the 16 year old, frustrated and on the verge of tears, as he tried to drive a stick shift for the first time. I made him take his shoes off so he could feel the clutch better (and it worked!) and we drove back and forth at the empty high school parking lot until he got it.

I have had him home now for one week. He is a man now and preparing to head off into a very bright future. Although I wish I could still have all my chicks under one roof, we will always have moments. Like yesterday, we all four (hubby was out of town on business) went to pick up my car at the dealership and then planned to go to dinner. We parked the "loaner" car and all traipsed into the showroom. I turned around and there they were, all three in line, from littlest to biggest, like a line of ducklings, following their momma. Me.

I went on a field trip with the 5th grade the other day. We toured the Museum of Fine Arts. While a dozen boys were using the men's room, I waited and read some upcoming events. They show art house type films and one is called "Who Does She Think She Is?" the premise was listed as

"A woman still has to choose between what she loves and who she loves. What if she didn't?"

My son's teacher walked up behind me. We are pretty good friends and joke around a lot. I told her to read that and give me the answer to the question. She read it then looked at me with her brow furrowed, puzzled.

"She'd be a MAN." I answered, to which she burst out laughing and agreed.

I had my first child at age 22 and he is 22 now. I have been making the choice about who I love and what I love for a very long time. I couldn't take a demanding career. I already had one raising 3 boys. I couldn't take the job that involved travel. I was forced to travel to the pediatrician, the dentist and the grocery store.

My husband? When his job requires a trip to Singapore or London or wherever, there is no question about who will take care of the kids and the house. He just packs a bag and goes.

I have always envied his freedom. Though consciously, I knew I didn't really want it. I never wanted a nanny raising my kids. My husband has to ask me questions occasionally, like, "Does D like cheese on his burger?" I am proud that I know the answer. I also know that he wants the ketchup and mustard under the patty and the lettuce on top. And, yes, he likes cheese. Its a small thing and there is a lot more that goes into being a good mom, but it makes me realize I am really good at my job.

Happy Mother's Day to all this weekend.

To Live Long & Prosper

No, I am not here to toot the horn of the new Star Trek movie (although I will be one of the first in line to see it - a young Spock!!)

There is an island off the coast of Greece where people routinely live into their 90's.

Icaria

is a beautiful, isolated place. A place where high powered business meetings don't exist. The term "hurry up!" probably isn't used much. There isn't a McDonald's.

The people live on the hillsides and don't even eat a lot of fish, due to pirates (damn pirates are every where these days!). They garden and walk every where. When they go to church, they walk. Visit a friend? Walk to their house. Another curious fact, the people drink herbal tea morning, noon and night. They have lower than usual rates of cancer and heart problems. Dementia doesn't even exist.

Is it one thing that makes the difference? The fresh fruits and vegetables? The air? The tea? I don't think so. I thinks it their whole way of life. Can we achieve that in our American society of hustle and bustle, work, work, work constantly, want more?

Interesting to also point out that we spent the weekend with friends at the lake. The husband is from England. He was talking about when he arrived in America that he was amazed at how competitive we are here in the U.S.

My comment was one of surprise but upon reflection it wasn't really surprising. I find myself always striving for more in everything. More money, more stuff, more health, more time...how does one achieve satisfaction with the status quo? I suppose this could be my new goal but I am afraid it will turn into another competitive thing for me. I dont' want it to be that but I would like to crank down the "volume" of my life a bit. I think I will have a cup of herbal tea now.

A DumbAss Deed I will own up to...

Have you ever done something really stupid and afterwards wondered if everyone else in the world knows NOT to do "blank" and why didn't you? If you answer no, then I must have been given your share of "Dumbass Deeds." Go ahead, say thank you. You probably have no idea how much grief I have saved you.

Let me peel through the annals of my personal "Dumbass Deeds." Ah Ha! Here's a good one:

We were transferred to Louisiana when my youngest was about 3 and the older one was 8. The youngest wasn't even a glimmer in his daddy's eye yet.

We bought a house and it had wood floors. I had never had wood floors before. They were shiny and pretty. One day in a fit of cleaning (which only occur during a lunar eclipse) I decided that sweeping my wonderful wood floors would not be enough! I wanted to really clean them.

Hmmmm, think, think, think....I use furniture polish on my wood furniture and it gleams so it should make my wood floors look spectacular! I sprayed and polished and sprayed and polished all through the kitchen and living room. And, yes! My wood floors sparkled and shined. Just as I reached around to pat myself on the back, the 3 year old comes walking into the room in his stockinged feet. The second he hit the wood floors both feet went flying out from under him! OMG!! I scooped him up to check for lumps on his head. There was a hang time of about 5 seconds before he could gasp a breath and then howl. I comforted him and in walked in my husband (also only wearing socks) to see what all the fuss was about - WHAM! THUD! - He goes down, narrowly missing smacking his head on a corner cabinet.

Holy Shit! What did I do? I created the FLOORS OF DEATH! Of course, when I tell my husband what I think MIGHT be the problem with the floor, he looks at me like I am an idiot (really couldn't blame him at this point).

The real fun started as we tried to figure out how to De-death-a-size our floors...let's just say we wore hiking boots with ice climbing clamps in our house for quite a while after that.