What would Judi do?

The last post was about inventions that are helpful.  There's a lot of stuff out there meant  to be helpful but aren't. 1.  The snooze button on my alarm clock.  The snooze button itself is probably a good idea.  The fact that it's located just next to another button is the problem.  One little slip at 5:30am in my sleep coma and the alarm doesn't ring again.  This is a problem. 2.  Voice command on my phone.  This is supposed to allow me to text without hands.  Maybe it works for some folks but my phone has a sense of humor.  I was texting a friend one day to tell him about my day.  What I said was "I'm having a good day.  I have a good client and a good team."  My phone sent him "I'm putting my penis in my client."  Not even close. 3.  GPS.  I know the roads (here) better than my GPS.  And she yells at me.  I get yelled at enough from humans.  I don't need this crap from my electronics. 4.  Travel mugs.  They work in the

So I missed last Friday.  It happens.  We're going to play Friday 5 on a Tuesday, just to mix things up a bit. I was thinking about things that make my life easier.  There are so many things, little things thought of by people who are creative, that help my life.  Here are a few. 1.  The re-usable K cup.  When my kids (and their dad) got me a Keurig for Mother's Day, I was less than thrilled.  I live within a budget and coffee for that thing wasn't going to fit in it.  Plus it's just more stuff in landfills.  The re-usable K cup solves all those problems.  Brilliant. 2. The automatic ice maker.  One of the big arguments in my house growing up was "who left the ice tray with just one cube in it??".  That and who only fills up the little cubes half way making for little ice cubes - makes me nuts.  I don't have to think about that any more. 3.  Texting.  I don't actually like talking to people.  Texting allows me to communicate without having to h

When bad weather happens, people (here) worry about milk, bread and toilet paper.  I think about shaving my legs.  I make sure my legs are shaved when it snows or there is bad weather.  I need to remember to do this on days when I have car accidents. I was rear-ended a few days ago.  Nothing too serious, mostly just annoying.  I went the next day to get checked and realized I didn't want to go because A) I hate hospitals and B) my legs weren't shaved.  I know the doctors don't give a shit about my legs.  My boyfriend doesn't care when my legs aren't shaved.  No one cares.  Except me. Last year my appendix decided it wanted to escape my body.  I waited a bit too long to go to the hospital.  Why?  A) I hate hospitals and B) my legs weren't shaved.  But I was able to rest assured that I was going to surgery with shaved legs.  Because the surgeon and anesthesiologist and nurses would care. No, they wouldn't. At the end of my pregnancy, I had a few problems

I'm familiar with the concept of sibling rivalry.  That makes sense to me.  But this sibling insanity - what I call the constant fighting, bickering, bitchiness aimed at each other ALL. DAY. LONG. - is insane.  Why do they do this?  I have one sibling, a brother, who is 10 years older than me.  We fought (still do) but not like this.  Granted, one good punch and he would've knocked me out but still. We didn't do this so it's foreign to me.  I now understand why a mother I met long ago said Jagermeister was her best friend and started drinking it shortly before dinner every night.  But it's not constant snottiness, which is where I get confused.  Sometimes they're as sweet as can be to each other.   Do you want a glass of milk?  I'll get it for you.   Then about 30 seconds later, bam!  The bitchiness starts again. Everyone but me had siblings close in age.  Did your parents beat some sense into you?  Did they all become alcoholics?  What's the cure for

My children are odd.  But I'm used to it so they don't seem so odd to me any more.  There are a few instances of peculiar behavior that will forever stay in my head.  The sari years experience is one of them. A was sure she was Indian.  She wanted to wear saris and bindi and all sorts of bling.  This started somewhere around the age of 3 or 4.  There were tears when I forbade her to wear saris to preschool.  Mind you, I played along enough to have quite a collection of saris.  At Halloween she wanted to be an Indian princess.  Actually she was an ice skating Indian princess.  Yes, she wore a sari on skates (not easy, in case you were wondering).  Santa put bindi in her stocking.  We accepted this part of her. Then one day we were walking into Giant (grocery) when she announced "I hope today is the day I meet my birth mom".  Huh.   Um, I reminded her, you're a twin.  I'm your mom and M's mom.   "No, you're M's mom but my mom wears a sari.&q

Much of the last two years have been spent in hospitals.  Thankfully, only one time was for me (plus one additional er visit).  I realized last night, while sitting in Suburban Hospital's ER, that I recognize the people who work there.  One was there when my appendix blew up.  One was there when my mother-in-law was taken there.  Another was there when I was interpreting.  It's strange.  I was interpreting there last year on the 6th floor when a nurse stopped talking to the patient, looked at me and said "I recognize you.  You've been here before."   Yes , I said, I have.  Continue talking, please.  She continues on for a while and when we left the room she said "You have twin girls.  You were here quite a bit with a family member."  It had been a year after we spent a very long month getting Ruth treatment there yet she remembered me.  I was both impressed and saddened.  So much of our time was there that she remembered us (thankfully fondly). So, le

I have mixed feelings about summer camp.  I didn't go when I was young.  First, I hate to camp (as in be outside with the bugs and toilets that are not guaranteed to flush).  Second, I'm not a good team player.  And I don't think my mom needed to put me in camp.  I lived much of her working life in a townhouse community.  I just lived at the pool.  My kids, however, need to be in camp.  They can't stay home alone all day.  It's not fun and it's a guaranteed thing they'll find trouble.  So off to camp they go. Camps have been tough for us.  We did the drop-in sort of camp for a few years.  That worked great for my schedule but the girls didn't love it.  Sports camp was met with enthusiasm, but briefly.  This year we did a few different things.  We sent them to sailing camp in Sodus Point, NY (they stayed with family).  That was awesome.  And they went to Camp Ahava here in Silver Spring before and after the NY experience.  They love it there.  It's

My mother told me not long ago that I am raising rabble-rousers.  I don't fully disagree but I might have  labeled my style of parenting differently.  But, the fact is, I am raising kids with the motto "Silence Equals Agreement".  I am rarely silent and am teaching them to (politely) speak their mind when they see an injustice. Today's event was not really an injustice.  It was an annoyance.  It was stupid.  But we silently stated our protest anyway.  Just to make a point. We were at the fountain in Silver Spring.  We walked around the farmer's market, strolled past the crafts/small business market and made our way to the fountain to cool off.  Yes, we were dressed in our regular clothes.  If we get wet, that's our problem, right?  Apparently not.  The security guards came over to tell us we couldn't be in the fountain.  The reason?  We were not in bathing suits.  There was a lot of chlorine in the water and it would make our clothes smell.  That was t

I do some things very well.  I laugh a lot.  I get into enough trouble to keep me happy.  I'm competent at my job (most days).  I'm a good enough mom and a good enough girlfriend. There are some things I don't do so well.  Or rather I don't want to do so well.  I'd like to outsource those things.  In other words, I need an Alice, Mrs. Livingston, Mr. French or whoever the current sitcom maid/housekeeper is.  I'd be a good client.  Okay, I'd be a challenge.  But the laughter would be worth it....maybe. 1.  I would (at least temporarily) outsource cooking.  I'm highly mediocre at it.  My boyfriend is polite and eats it.  My kids tolerate it.  Some days are better than others.  Breakfast (pancakes with chocolate chips and oats - surprisingly good!) is okay.  Dinner last night gave us all serious gas.  There's got to be a better way. 2.  If I never did laundry again, I'd be a happy girl.  The problem with this is I'm picky.  I co