Saturday, December 8, 2007

Say What?

I just got into a fight with a door to door salesman. You know the type- very slick, has a memorized spiel that would put any used car salesman to shame, and cannot be deterred.

Normally, I do not answer the door to these types, as I would rather ignore them than be outright rude. And usually, outright rude is the only thing that gets them off the doorstep. Tonight was no exception.

Being blessed with 5 kids and a candy stand, I am blessed with 5 children who run to answer the door. So, I am also blessed to talk to all and sundry, even those I would choose not to of my own free will.

He did his little song and dance, and then when I asked him what he was selling, he pulled out the magazines. I wasted no time in telling him no thank you, but of course 3 kids were out on the front step, so there was no way I could shut the door in his face. He tried again. I told him no again. I felt like I was polite.

Next thing I know, he was up in my face, saying, "Why you gotta do me like that?"
Say what? By saying no to magazines, I am waging a personal war against him? I am personally hoping and in fact encouraging him to fail?

But of course, he didn't stop there. "I'm just trying to feed my kids," he said. I agreed that was a worthy goal (and you all know I would have loaded him down with food and clothes if he had said he was in need) , but if he can't take no for an answer, he should consider changing careers. Then, he got ugly. And tried to guilt trip me some more. I don't really enjoy that. In fact, I hate being guilt tripped. So I replied,

"Don't think for one second that you get to knock on my door, try to sell me things I don't want and don't need, then try and give me a guilt trip to get your way. I didn't invite you here and it is my right to refuse your products, without this kind of manipulation. I'm not buying your magazines, and I'm not putting up with your attitude. You can remove yourself from my property right now. " He stood there, ready to let expletives fly. Before he could take a full breath, I said, "Move it. NOW."

Once he started walking, and all of my kids were back inside, I started to shut the door. As it swung closed, I heard him yell, "Thanks for not helping!"

He's welcome. He's so very welcome.

Friday, December 7, 2007

We Believe?

A risk of online shopping is the risk of marked packages arriving at the door. Online toy companies are notorious for shipping that one really great item, complete with its own box and a giant color picture of the item on it, completely ruining the look of shock on Christmas morning. Because of this, for several years, I have limited my online ordering to amazon only. They ship theirs in big boxes with "Amazon" printed all over it, but nothing else.

Until this year.

This year, they didn't ship everything from their warehouse, but a few things came directly from vendors. Of course, those vendors stamp their names all over them, so it is no secret that I ordered a game or two. Unfortunately, it was supposed to be a secret. Until Christmas morning, ifyaknowwhatimean.

So today, another box showed up.

Dave: "What is it?"
Me: "Oh, you know, Christmas presents with the entire contents of the box printed on the outside so that everyone knows what I got them."
Nate: "Are those the presents you hide and then pretend are from Santa? Because you know I don't believe in him."

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Cover me, I'm Going In

I'm here in Utah. It's 10:30 pm, and I have made a discovery. It turns out that for various reasons, it is impossible for me to boycott WalMart for all of December.

This is of no importance, but if I never come out, I wanted to be sure there was a record of when I went in.

In case I am arrested for anything while there, please tell the officers I was NICE to people on my last visit. After all, I helped the handicapped lady. . .

Just in Case

A conversation while packing for our trip:

Mom: Ellie, grab your ID and drop it in your backpack, just in case you need it.
Ellie: What will I need it for?
Mom: Probably nothing, but grab it just in case
Ellie: Will I need it to get on the plane?
Mom: Well, no. But, lots of places ask for ID, so pack it just in case.
Ellie: Will I need it to get off the plane?
Mom: No, Sweetie. Can you please just put it in your bag?
Ellie: Well, are there other places we're going where I might need it?
Mom: OK, I have answered the same question several times now. Again, I do not think you will need it, but you might, so please get it in your bag and stop asking me why.

Ellie wanders off to get her ID, I sigh in relief.
An hour later, at the gas station near our house:

Ellie: Mom! I don't know where I put my ID
Mom: That's OK sweetie, you really won't need it.
Ellie: But if I won't need it, why did you make me pack it?
Mom: (proud of myself for not reaching across the seat and strangling her) Ellie, do you know what "Just in Case" means?
Ellie: Who's Justin Case and what does he have to do with my ID?

Monday, December 3, 2007

I Fear!

Several years ago, after a particularly stupid stunt that I can only claim insanity as a defense against, a friend asked me if I am afraid of anything.

Finally, after much thought and contemplation (and a little feeling of being left out since fear is so en vogue now). I have finally found my fear:

Cold or cold things- Frigophobia.
Cold: extreme, ice or frost- Cryophobia.
Cold- Cheimaphobia, Cheimatophobia, Psychrophobia or Psychropophobia.

I don't know which one is most accurate, but I packed my own blanket to go to Utah. I have wool socks, thermal socks, thermal shirts (yes, more than one), thermal pants (and no, I did not sneak those out of the lady's cart at Wal Mart, although I was tempted to), a coat, mittens- 3 pair, hand warmers, and a cap which I will never wear, but have it just in case.

Finally, a paranoia to call my own. Yay!