Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Outside of the Box

A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, I worked in an office. I believe it was Franklin Covey, but very well could have been Discover Card. It's all a distant hazy memory now. However, both of those companies were all touchy feel-y, object lesson-y, team building-y goodness. At one of them, there was a big object lesson on thinking outside of the box. We were divided into two teams and sent to separate offices. Upon arriving, we were instructed to pull an item out of a paper sack and then were given 5 minutes to think of any possible use for it.

The item was a sock.

After 5 minutes, we had the usual suspects of a cleaning rag, a bag, entertainment in the form of a puppet, a warmer of things, a bandage, and variations of those themes. The other group fared about the same. We failed. We could not think outside of the box. And when the facilitator gave us a bunch of other weird and unique uses for a sock, we all shook our heads and oohed and aahed and promptly forgot any but the most obvious uses. Clearly, none of us were innovators.

Which brings me to Nate and Ty. A few days ago, my friend gave me a basket of shells. I brought them home, intending to use them as decorations. Or, at the most bizarre, some sort of art project. I was a little mystified to see the boys like this :

"Roger, Roger! Come in 5 Star General, Tyler"

"Copy that. Proceed, 4 Star General, Nate"

Mom: Tyler, why do you have shells in your ears?
Tyler: These aren't shells, these are Conch Communicators.

It almost frightens me to think of what they might do with a sock.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

I should be fired. . .

. . .from my job as a housekeeper.

I still haven't cleaned my nasty kitchen. I have been to WalMart 3 times in 3 failed attempts to make our new insurance pay for prescriptions before the insurance cards arrive.

I love benefits changes. They are always so much fun.

However, I am very glad we both have jobs. Unemployed would be so much worse than schlepping to Wal Mart all day.

Monday, June 9, 2008

Cleaning

I hate cleaning. I clean and 5 minutes later, it is dirty again, which makes me lose my will to clean. But tomorrow I have an appointment at the house and then a meeting south of here and then another appointment and then a meeting. . .

So, if I don't want to answer a lot of questions about the foul state of my kitchen after a weekend of baking, I should probably go clean it. Which I hate. It's a vicious cycle.

But the banana-pear-apple bread, the white bread, the brownies and the cookies were all delicious. I hate scales. I weigh myself and. . .

Sunday, June 8, 2008

Quote of the Day

Rebi and Tyler are sitting next to each other, eating cake.

Rebi turns to Tyler and says, thoughtfully, "Ty, I love you like a fat kid loves cake."

Pause.


"And I LOOOVE cake."

Because I LOOOOVE him

I'm a little bit in love with my boss. But now that I've annoyed him by calling him my boss, let me clarify. He's not. He's an owner of the company I work for, along with 4 other people. I happen to work with him quite a bit currently, but he's not my boss. I just don't know what else to call him. Maybe I can call him "My Don". Such a nice ring. And I love him. I love him so much that if he lived here, I would kiss him. Which he doesn't. So I can say that.

And since it's not likely that I'll ever actually meet him, I feel even safer.

To what does he owe the bestowing of my love? Last Friday, he fixed my SPAM problem. Because he's awesome.

Here's the chat that followed:

Me: I'm thinking I'll be dedicating a blog post to you tomorrow
12:23 PM Don: cool, maybe I'll get around to reading it. I had a lot of catch up to do.
me: Because I love you a whole whole lot right now.
Don: LMAO, why is that.
me:for the first time in months, I am not getting 300-500 (or more) email a day
12:24 PM Don: wow if i was that simple I would have stopped all of your email ;)
me: as far as I can tell, anyway. Maybe I should see what happens overnight before gracing you with my presence. . .
Don: yup
me: (by referring readers to your blog)

12:25 PM Don: ok, it wasn't creepy until after the disclaimer, but then I imagined you flying in and standing over the bed in the middle of the night ... then I got scared.
me: standing over your bed with what?
with a hatchet?
or a chainsaw?
but I LOOOOOVE you!
12:26 PM I'm a little giddy at the thought of leaving email hell
Don: as long as it's not a dismembered rabbit, it's probably ok to choose one of the other images.
12:27 PM me: you know, I never saw that movie. Maybe it's worth it to procure that from Netflix
12:29 PM Don: it is a little freaky. You could see it being a co-worker instead of a mistress.

Which makes me want to go to my room and die. Just a little, inside. Because I LOOOVE him and he only sees me as a crazy stalker. . .

But I can survive it, now that I don't have to wait an hour for SPAM to download every morning. And every mid-morning. And every noon. And every afternoon. . . A blackberry might even be a viable option now. Although come to think of it, I haven't been invited to update my penis for days now, which leaves me feeling hollow inside. What if I end up with the ONLY outdated penis in my circle of friends?

Is that worse or better than email hell?

Saturday, June 7, 2008

The Tooth What?

Please notice the permanent tooth visible behind the line of baby teeth


Nate: Mom! Mom! I lost my very first tooth! But not if you count the one the dentist took out. . .

Mom: Right. You lost the loose one that didn't rot and have to be pulled because you refused to brush it. Awesome! Go put it under your pillow.

Nate: Well. . . I already did put it under your pillow.

Mom: Really? Because the tooth fairy will never find it there. She's going to look under your pillow and see nothing and not leave any money. (might I possibly just maybe get a night without his feet in my back?)

Nate: Well. . . I can put my pillow in your bed and then she can find me there.

Mom: Nope, no go dude. She's headed for your bed, so if you want the cash, you'd better be in your bed with the tooth.

7 hours later, still lobbying to sleep in my bed:

Nate: Mom, why do you think I believe the tooth fairy is real? I think she is a myth. Because fairies aren't real. So I guess she is a fairy tale.

Mom: Really?

Nate: Yes, I think it is just a parent that lives in the house with the kids and takes the tooth and sneaks it to the garbage and doesn't let any of the kids see them and then takes some money from their pocket and leaves it under a pillow. So they don't have to sleep in their bed. Because your bed is softer and they could sleep better there. And besides, do you remember that fairies don't exist? So could you just let me put it under your pillow and I can go to sleep?

Mom: Nope. Go to your bed.

Nate: But why not? Then you don't even have to get out of bed to be the tooth fairy. You can just wait until I fall asleep and put the tooth in the garbage and give me money. How much money do you think you will give me?

Mom: Hey Nate. Do I look like the tooth fairy? I don't know what the going rate is for overused baby teeth and I can't tell you the tooth fairy can find you in my bed. Go to your bed, pull the covers up and go to sleep, or the tooth fairy ain't coming and there's no money for you. Whatever you choose is fine. Except you must be in your room.

Nate: OHHH KAAAAY. But I bet Dad's the tooth fairy then.


I can't wait to tell Dave that Nate called him a fairy. . .

Friday, June 6, 2008

Friends of Scouting















So, let's talk about Scouts. Specifically, let's talk about Cub Scouts and their upcoming summer camp in our area.

Because I love the full disclosure bit, I should take this opportunity to remind everyone that I am Mormon, or LDS, or belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, or any other respectful way you would like to refer to my religion. It comes into play here.

Next week, I have the pleasure of attending Cub Scout Day Camp for the 5th or 90th year in a row. It certainly feels like 90 years, but since we mostly wander after boys making sure they don't poke arrows into soft places or walk in front of a loaded BB gun, it's not the end of the world. Hot, tiring, a wee bit on the boring side, but hey. I can do anything once a year. Except for this particular camp, ever again. Because these guys are a little nuts.

Silly me, when a mandatory meeting for everyone attending CS camp as adult volunteers was announced, I figured I could handle it. Little did I know the other side of scouting. And for those of you who are lifelong avid scouters, congratulations. I do believe it takes a special someone to have this kind of passion. I do not posses it. And don't bother trying to talk me into it. Not gonna happen.

There were around 50 of us at the meeting, at least half of whom look like the typical soccer mom, doing her LDS duty of attending CS camp with her 2 age- appropriate sons once per year. The other half of the crowd had on uniforms. Complete with green calf socks with red bands around the tops. They mean business, dammit. And they most certainly prefer the "traditional scouters" over the "LDS scouters", as they referred to us in the packet. I call religious discrimination! But hey, I can't really blame them. By and large, the Mormons like scouting, but we just don't do so well at the rules and regulations. We don't wear the exact uniform. In fact, most of us can't find any pieces of the uniform when it comes time to deck the boys out. We just have too many kids to effectively process laundry between the monthly pack meetings, and scouts is more about the fun than it is the badges. Which is not to say we aren't avid badge grabbers. We do love the belt loops and beads and pins and plastic flappy things (I just made half the scouting population in the world cringe. The other half are Mormon and don't care what things are called if they can just freaking find them and tack them to the uniform before the kids has to be seen in public) as much as any other scout. We just don't get hung up on it, as we are also carting kids to church, piano lessons, sports, the pool, and all other childhood functions.

Well, I'm not, but I have a therapy fund. So I don't have to try and be the perfect mom.

This meeting begins, basic rules are spoken of, we are told all of the kids will be expected to wear the same thing. I knew I was in trouble when we were handed a 6 page packet and the first paragraph states that there will be around 300 boys, 150 adult volunteers, 20 staff members, and 20 boy scout helpers. In case you don't add so fast, that's 300 boys and 190 "helpers". Which seems like overkill. Even better is the paragraph regarding attire.

"In the event that a person is seen in the camp area without a camp shirt or nametag, they will be assumed to be an intruder. . .This includes anyone who is dressed in part or fully in an official BSA scout uniform. . .Contact should not be made with the person by anyone other than the Camp Security Director unless he/she becomes a clear and immediate danger to campers, staff, or guests." Listen people. Boy scouts get kidnapped and/or dismembered at cub camp ALL OF THE TIME. By perfect strangers dressed in scouting gear. But do not approach these random dangerous strangers while they are rational . By all means, wait until they open fire on the crowd, and then take one for the team. Get in there and disarm him before Cub lives are lost! We're the Navy Seals and we expect. . . wait. Sorry, a little flashback there.

Then the "Camp Security Director" stands up. And he had all of the charm of a prison guard trying to give up cigarettes.

After going on for a moment about not getting in the middle of boys fighting, because that undermines their den leader, he draws attention to the person we should go and get if a fight breaks out. Of course. We all know that 6-10 year olds are a rough crowd and must be handled professionally. Apparently by someone who was once a boy scout in a fight. A fight that wasn't broken up until a parent could haul butt across a city block, find the only person in a light blue shirt and haul butt back before death occurred. It must not have ended well for him since his front tooth or three was missing. Because if 2 boys are trying to kill each other it is always a great idea to leave them alone and wander among 490 people to find the solitary person "allowed" to break up the fight. Right. Not so much my style. Plus, I really don't need my kid to lose any permanent teeth. His baby teeth are in bad enough shape.

But, all of that said, things happen when you have 300 boys in the same place. Especially when you add another 190 adults trying to steer clear of violent strangers and dangerous cub scout fights. So it's reasonable that, "All accidents will be brought to the attention of the Health Officer on-site and the Camp Director" But, just to be sure, let it also be said that they are serious about their accident policy. Because:

"Any accident resulting in major injury or death must be reported to the Camp Director immediately."

What?!?!? No fair! I was planning on bringing my shovel so that if one of those fights ended badly, I could just bury the poor kid and continue on with my camp experience. I mean honestly, reporting a death would just be such a downer for the other scouters, why bother? But sadly, my back hoe is not allowed. I cannot say such things to my son as, "You'd better knock it off with the fighting or you're gonna regret it. I'll just bury you with the backhoe if you keep it up. . ." because that is against the rules. The packet says. (Also against the rules is "physical closeness, flirting, pinching, kissing, suggestive letters, lewd motions, obscene language, etc." Which totally sucks because I was also intent on reciting the Margaret Cho skits I have memorized, complete with hand motions and a dry-erase board. In addition, there is "no physical contact suggesting enamored feelings between staff/leaders." Which ruins my plans for hooking up with the gap-toothed wonder. It's just crap. A raw deal. Nor will they allow me to gamble, be under the influence of a controlled substance, intimidate others, fight, drive drunk, shoplift, use a weapon, or sell the kids drugs. What the hell good is Cub Scout camp?)

It is at this point, that we get the lecture on "missing persons". And here is an excerpt from the packet:
"Upon determining that a group has a lost, missing, or runaway boy, the leader shall conduct an immediate search of camp," (presumably looking for the back hoe or a freshly dug grave) And, "the leader will give a description of the boy, including what he is wearing." Umm. . . come again? Didn't you just tell us they're all going to be dressed alike? I'm pretty sure there's a flaw in that plan. Which I'm loving. I see the shovel idea right back on. When one of those crazy dangerous aggressive 6 year olds comes up missing, I just grab the nearest kid and say, "Here's one that matches the description. Same approximate age, close in height, same hat, and look. . . his t-shirt matches the description exactly! That's uncanny how well his leader remembered what he was wearing!"

It's all coming together now. Except that "in the event of a flood, leaders shall prepare the campers to evacuate immediately." They aren't going to turn a flood into a swimming lesson? What kind of crappy permanent Boy Scouts are they anyway? A stupid little flood might ruin camp entirely? Maybe I should just cancel now. Frankly, I'm a little worried about how Tyler will fair against the prison inmates he will be mingling with. Yes, those 6-10 year olds can be a rough crowd.