My Mom’s Obsession With Car Security

My mom and her Ford Explorer key fob
are a dangerous combination!

If you have been reading this blog even semi-regularly, you have probably gathered that my mom and I are very close. What can I say? I just really like the woman. As you know, when you are really close to someone, you get to see the good, the bad, the ugly, and the quirky (dare I say batty?) things about them. Now, my mom is quite a normal woman, really, but she does have certain idiosyncrasies that become apparent when you know her well. There are two particular quirks I will touch on in this post.

Now, before you go thinking that I'm about to air my mom's dirty laundry for all the world to see, let me just tell you two things: first, I don't think that many people actually read this blog anyway, and second, I have asked my mom's permission to write about this topic, and have given her full veto power over the end product. So if she doesn't like it, you won't see it, and this entire paragraph will be a moot point.

My mom can be rather obsessive at times. Not Fatal Attraction,boil your bunny obsessive, but obsessive over little things that might seem like mere details to someone else. Her first obsession is centered on her built-in car alarm. My mom has had this obsession since she got her current car, a Ford Explorer, in 2002. Before that she never drove cars with alarms, because she always drove station wagons prior to the Explorer, and, in the very early eighties, she even drove a Ford Pinto. Ford Pintos and station wagons do not even need car alarms, because neither is what would be considered the height of automotive sophistication and luxury, and who would try to steal one anyway?

Well, ever since my mom got a car with an alarm and a little electronic key fob, car security has been at the forefront of her mind. This would be just fine if she simply got out of the car, turned on the alarm, and proceeded to her shopping, or dining, or whatever she had gone out to do. However, if there is one thing I have learned from being alive for 35 years, it's that life is rarely simple, so, as you can imagine, my mom’s car security obsession manifests itself in some inconvenient ways. The typical scenario goes as follows:

Mom and I drive to Wal-Mart and park approximately 25 and ½ miles from the front entrance. We trek up to the entrance, and traipse through the store and then realize that one of us has to go to the bathroom, so we trek all the way to the back of the store. Then, before we can even locate the restroom, without fail, my mom asks, "Did I beep the alarm thingy?" Now, to be honest with you, I can rarely ever recall if she turned on the alarm or not. When I am about to go into a Wal-Mart, which is, to me, the tenth circle of hell, I am usually so mentally engaged in planning a quick escape route that I wouldn't even notice if you ran over me with a Mac truck. But, being fatally honest, I always answer, "I don't know," which means we have to slog all the way back to the car. We trudge back through the store, dodging errant children along the way, and then we slog the eleventy billion miles back to the car, and, did I mention that it's raining by this point and neither one of us has an umbrella?

We reach the car, at which point my mom double clicks the security button on the key fob, and the horn beeps, letting us know the alarm is set. The frustrating thing is that we never actually know if she had set the alarm to begin with or not. This means that there is no telling her, “See, you did set the alarm!” and possibly getting her to see that she never forgets to set it, thereby ending the behavior. So, unfortunately, before we have even gotten to the shopping part of the trip, we have already covered the distance travelled by the average ultramarathon runner in a year's time. Then we get to wade back to the front entrance, looking like two contestants in the world's most unfortunate wet t-shirt contest. We do our shopping, probably getting a 10-gallon container of Tide laundry detergent for $.42. Our clothes dripping, we hike back to the front of the store, pay for our purchase, and swim back to the car.

The whole car security obsession has been maddeningly irritating for me, until I realized the secret to making it go away: I simply said yes. Anytime my mom asked me if she had "beeped the alarm thingy," I told her that yes, she had. Regardless of whether I had noticed or not, or even if my mom had left the car’s two front windows rolled all the way down, if she asked, I answered in the affirmative.

This distance runner and I complete
the same average mileage per week.

The results were amazing! Two whole days of not having to complete the weekly mileage of a distance runner during a simple trip to the store. But, alas! I am a terrible liar, and Mom quickly realized that something was rotten in the state of Georgia. When I fessed up to my crimes, she was none too pleased, either. This whole car alarm obsession goes along nicely with my mom’s other automobile-based quirk: parking in the parking space that is furthest away from our destination even when there is a spot right in front of the building we wish to go to.

For example, my mom and I will be going to Target (mom always drives because her car is much nicer than mine), and when we arrive in the Target parking lot she will turn down a row right in front of the store. Suddenly, by some miracle of God, I will spy the best parking space that has ever existed in the history of humankind.

“Look!” I will exclaim, “A spot! Park there!”

“Where?” Mom will ask.

“There!” I will reply, pointing emphatically.

“Oh, that’s a good spot!” she will say, driving right by said spot.

She will then careen the car to the end of the row and park in a spot where she is able to back the car in. Did I mention that the spot is the approximate distance from the store that the moon is from the earth? I don’t know why she does this, other than possibly to punish me for all the things I did during my teen years and early twenties that caused her great amounts of worry. You can probably guess where this story is going now. We walk all the way up to the front entrance of Target, trek to the back of the store to buy bleach wipes or something, and Mom asks that fateful question: “Did I beep the alarm thingy?” We then complete the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer in an effort to return to the car, only without raising money for a good cause, and without the nice refreshment stations.

You will probably never end up in a car with my mom, (unless you carjack her. Wait, you’re not planning to carjack her are you?) but if you do, I can guarantee you she is going to ask you if she set her car alarm. And when she does, trust me on this, the only appropriate answer is “Yes, yes, 1,000 times yes!”

Key fob photo courtesy of http://www.ebay.com

Distance runner photo courtesy of http://running.competitor.com/

A Call for a Return to Basic Black Friday!

I teach because I care. And to avoid hosting holiday parties.

Hi there, readers! In the first miracle of the holiday season, I am writing a new post within seven days

of writing my last post. Amazing! As is most of the U.S., I am preparing for Thanksgiving on Thursday. Tomorrow I will be helping my mom with the cooking for our Thanksgiving festivities, which will be held at noon on Thursday at my cousin's house. I am really glad we don't have Thanksgiving at my house! In fact, becoming a teacher has all been a carefully plotted effort to avoid hosting holiday gatherings in my home. Without a huge paycheck, I can afford only a modest house, which basically renders my living quarters useless for gatherings of 30+ people. I am amazed at my foresight!

Now, I don't know about you, but I tend to consume more food than I usually do on Thanksgiving. Also, since I will be off work, and I have no children or visiting relatives to entertain, I will be blessed with most of the day left to do WHATEVER I WANT. These two factors will culminate in the only logical result: endless hours of napping while attempting to watch last week's episode of How to Get Away With Murder. I'm sure that after restarting it approximately 752 times, and sleeping through it almost that many times, I will come to the conclusion that the Taco Bell Chihuahua killed Sam.

But, I digress. My real reason for writing this post is to say that Black Friday has gotten totally out of hand in the past ten years. It has slowly become an event that doesn't just include a sane person's shopping hours on Friday, but has also taken over Thanksgiving. I worked retail the entire time I was in college, and I can assure you that if anyone working in a store at 10 PM on Thanksgiving night smiles at you, it is only because gritting their teeth and sporting a maniacal grin is the only way they can keep themselves from bashing you over the head with that Farberware frying pan you have been examining and asking them questions about for the past 30 minutes.

Nobody wants to work on Thanksgiving night, or at 2 AM on Friday morning, or at 6 AM on Friday morning! Retail workers do not get a lot of time off, and don't have the luxury of having their weekends as protected leisure time. Plus, they have to deal with the entire gamut of psychoses that presents itself in human beings, a fact to which I can personally attest from experience! Why not open stores at the normal time on Friday, or even a little later to allow workers to recover from their tryptophan induced post-Thanksgiving hangovers?

Nothing captures the magic of the holiday season
quite like riding at top speeds in the back of an
ambulance after being thrown from an escalator!

People could still shop just as much, and the only consequence would be that daytime crowds might

be a little bit larger. To make up for the lack of drama and frenzy that doing away with insane Black Friday retail hours would bring, I propose that all stores simply run their escalators as fast as they will go, and set their automatic doors to open and close at random intervals without warning. Both of these changes would certainly make up for the lack of Black Friday excitement, and would replace it with the thrill of riding at top speeds in the back of an ambulance!

Also, since we now have that amazing thing called the Internet, why not just sit at home on your couch in your pajamas on Thanksgiving night and shop some of the Black Friday sales that online retailers will surely present? That way, between commercials during that Law and Order marathon, you can purchase DVDs of tv shows that are already on Netflix for rock-bottom prices! I am sure there has to be some poor guy who will have to work on Thanksgiving night at the Amazon.com offices, but at least he won't have to deal with half-crazed, overly full shoppers in person! Instead, he can also watch the Law and Order marathon while getting the site running again after that amazing 60% off deal on the complete series of Saved by the Bell: The New Class caused it to crash.

Personally, for me Black Friday is aptly named because I will spend half of the day napping and looking at the black behind my eyelids. I really dislike shopping in person, and consider a trip to the mall to be tantamount to attending a three-hour spinning class at a gym where everyone is more attractive and thinner than I am (Also known as something so horrifying that I would sooner watch a twenty-four hour nonstop marathon of Mama's Family than participate in it). I am pretty sure that retail workers feel the same way about working on Thanksgiving or on Black Friday.

So, my advice is that you stay home on Thanksgiving night, and that you don't go to the store on Friday morning any earlier than the time at which you would have woken up with a hangover on any given Sunday morning when you were between the ages of 18 and 24. Stay home with your family and give thanks for the fact that you have the luxury of worrying about things like when to buy Christmas presents, rather than about much more dire things, like the fact that you have never seen an episode of Game of Thrones, and therefore can't understand half the memes on the Internet. I promise, you won't be sorry!

Teacher image courtesy of http://www.fitcodebootcamp.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/becoming-teacher.jpg

Ambulance image courtesy of http://www.hanoverfiredept.com/wp-content/uploads/Hanover_Ambulance_32.jpg

My New Holiday Poem!

I hope this woman realizes that she was George's
second choice. That dress ain't got nothing on my
yoga pants with the sweat stain on the butt!

Hi there readers! I have been on hiatus for such a long time that some of you were probably wondering if I had actually realized my (former) dream of George Clooney becoming Mr. Audrey Broome, and if I had run away with old George to a private island somewhere. While, sadly, this is not what happened, and while I know George Clooney did get married, I still know in my heart that I was probably the only girl for him, but that, in the interest of wanting me to have time to, like, work, and do creative stuff like writing my blog, he let me go and released me from our romantic bond. And then he married that other lady.

Anyway, enough about that. I like to write rhyming poetry, which I am sure should never be critiqued by anyone who knows anything about writing poetry, because I think there would be so many red editing marks all over the page that I would think I was looking at a sign announcing changes in the terror alert level. While I have no idea how to properly punctuate or capitalize when writing poetry, I have improvised! If poor punctuation causes you to get the vapors, and lack of appropriate capitalization makes your gout flare up-well, please consider editing my poem for me and sending it back to me. I would love to have it properly formatted! While my egregious violations of conventions of punctuation and capitalization may offend you, I hope you can see past these transgressions and enjoy the gist of my poem. (Though, if you quibble over em dashes you may just want to forget it!) This poem is a holiday story from a teacher's perspective. So
, without further delay, here is the poem that I wrote in bed on my phone this morning at 3:45 AM!

The Raving (Lunatic)

Remember those famous Christmas lyrics: "It seems
so long since I could say, "Sister Suzy pushin' round
her Bissell?""

Once upon a Thursday dreary, while I

Pondered, weak and weary,

Over a precipitously large stack of

Standards, Common Core--

While I nodded, nearly napping,

Suddenly there came a tapping,

As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my classroom door.

"Tis some child come back," I muttered

"To get something he forgot before."

Only this and nothing more.

Ah, distinctly I remember

It was in the bleak November

And in the heart of each staff member

Was the need to feel her energy restore.

Eagerly I wished the morrow-

Would it end my pain and sorrow?

A feat like climbing Kilimanjaro-

To reach the day when classes were no more.

To reach that golden fabled day when all my classes were no more—

Thanksgiving break, make haste!--To thee I do implore!

And the sharpest, wheezing whistle

That emitted from the Bissell

That began after dismissal,

As the cleaners sucked detritus from the floor.

As the dirge of vacuum rumbled,

From my hand my room key tumbled,

I eyed the door and softly mumbled,

"Tis some student entreating entry at my classroom door—

Some forgetful student entreating entry at my classroom door.

He needs a book and nothing more."

My irritation grew quite quickly,

As for an hour I had fickly

Graded projects as I sickly

Coughed until my throat was sore.

"Hey, kid!" I called out weakly- 

"Come back tomorrow, not before.

You see, kid, I was just now grading

The papers I have been evading,

And my hacking cough's not fading

As you gently rap upon my classroom door.

Over my cough I scarcely heard you tap upon my classroom door-

I heard my cough and the vacuum-nothing more."

This was probably the closest
Edgar Allen Poe ever got to
celebrating Thanksgiving.

As the tapping wasn't stopping,

From my chair I came a hopping

The soles of my shoes made a popping

noise as I walked across the classroom floor-

As I walked right up to the closed door.

I turned the knob and pulled it open

While I was wishing and hoping

That I would find not a student loping

Loping outside my classroom door.

"Please be the wind," I muttered,

"Just the wind and nothing more."

This I muttered as I opened the door.

Down the hallway I was peering,

And I stood there, wondering, fearing,

Silently slinging curse words no teacher had ever slung before.

Just where was the pesky student

Who had thought it would be prudent

Rather than simply impudent

To return to class at half past four?

To return to my class at half past four?

I quickly closed the classroom door.

‘Twas nigh Thanksgiving break, but the day before.

And working on breaks I do abhor!

Back into my classroom, turning,

Irritation inside me burning

As I heard a tapping much louder than before.

"Surely that is just the vacuum,"

I said, standing just a foot back from the door.

I let my irritation settle as I calmed myself and counted to four.

Breathing gently, nothing more.

Feeling calm I flung the door open

Trying to adjust my coping

To deal with a student hoping

To get the book he left before.

The book he left so long before.

In front of me was a boy standing,

With his mother, quite demanding-

My irritation was expanding,

As I saw it was his mom, Lenore-

She was a force hard to ignore!

And Lenore, she pushed right past me,

Her lack of manners was quite ghastly,

Her son in tow but not as fast, he

Trailed her as she moved across the floor.

"Timmy forgot his book," she spouted,

"And I really strongly doubted,

Although Timmy begged and pouted,

That the test tomorrow was no more.

That the science test tomorrow was simply no more."

"There's still a test," I softly stated

"A test that has been long awaited,

Though I internally debated

If a project might be valued more-

Alternative assessment to be sure!

But on the day before vacation,

I, like teachers across the nation

Prefer traditional evaluation,

As it is much less a chore

So much less an awful chore--

The kids will work with no commotion

Like they've had a sleeping potion,

And, though, to my job I feel devotion,

Working when I'm off I do not adore.

I'd finish here, to myself I swore."

Lenore's response was raucous laughter,

Her face turned red from alabaster,

I thought it would be a disaster

That would ruin our rapport-

That would quite ruin our rapport.

But the fates were in my favor

As Lenore voiced with a waiver,

"Vacation time is there to savor,

To spend with family and friends galore—

With loving family and friends galore."

"Vacation time is not for working,

But rather, it is for shirking

As in the bed you lie there, lurking

Watching shows you've DVR'ed before

When you had time for work and nothing more.

Thanksgiving is a time for sharing,

For eating, talking, and soul bearing,

And certainly for only wearing

Pants that do not squeeze your core-

With an elastic waist and nothing more.

All other pants you must ignore!"

Suddenly my dull mood brightened,

How was this woman so enlightened?

And all my senses felt quite heightened

As I watched her sort Timmy's books out on the floor-

All Timmy's books were on the floor.

As I watched them I felt a gusting

As a typhoon wind came busting

Through the walls and windows dusting

All that was in its path and more

And I was sucked up off the floor.

As my senses faced upheaval,

I was pulled from the reprieval

Given by a parent in her retrieval

Of her child's book from the classroom floor-

The lovely lady named Lenore.

Only this and nothing more.

She understood my situation,

That teachers MUST have a vacation,

From their hard work and dedication,

So that they remain sane for a year more—

A week's vacation doth our sanity restore.

Sure, we don't work in the summer,

But we're paid less than a plumber,

Which, let's face it, is a bummer-

When we have college loans we can't ignore-

Expensive loans with interest that we simply can't ignore-

Which we may pay off, nevermore!

As the wind whipped me asunder,

Tossing me around in thunder,

And then, to my unending wonder,

I landed hard upon the floor-

With a resounding "thud" upon the floor-

The classroom around me, nevermore.

A blaring broke through my enchantment,

A beeping awful noise that went

Louder with a pitch in ascent

Like a siren breaking through my very core-

A sound I knew I'd heard before.

My eyes sprang open, staring, peering-

'Twas my alarm clock I was hearing,

A sound I always thought was shearing

Years off my life each time it I would ignore.

My alarm clock and nothing more.

No sign of Timmy and Lenore.

As realization dawned around me,

Circumstances keenly found me

Fallen from my bed, which did astound me,

As the clock read 5:44.

With the trepidation of the craven,

I peered at my wall, silently raving

As the calendar page was waving

Blown by the vent built in the floor-

Today's date read October 24-

It wasn't time for my vacation!

I got up with irritation,

And like teachers across the nation-

Got ready for the work that was in store.

My vacation, nevermore!

-Audrey V. Broome

November 2014

George Clooney image courtesy of http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/03051/clooney_3051211b.jpg
Bissell vaccum image courtesy of http://www.1stflash.com/files/Janitorial-Supplies/Bissell-Upright-Vacuums.jpg
Wild Turkey image courtesy of http://www.danmurphys.com.au/media/DM/Product/750x2000/83276_0_9999_v1_m56577569842369625.jpg

Our Trip to Charleston (or "Don't Take the Explorer Exploring")

Howdy Readers! Long time no see! I have taken a long hiatus, but I am now going to try to write at least two posts per week. It is good for me, kind of like eating a bowl of Wheaties, only without the support of sports icons.
Driving with Dad makes every trip an adventure!
Today I would like to tell you the story of my trip to Charleston, South Carolina. About three weeks ago, my mom and I took a short trip to Charleston. Now, believe it or not, this trip was the first time my mom and I have ever gone by ourselves on a vacation. Whenever we have gone on family trips in the past, my dad has always driven, so my mom and I were embarking on a great adventure in driving the five hours to Charleston on our own. (When my dad drives it is also a great adventure, but that is usually because driving makes him sleepy, and the excitement comes in trying to keep him awake so he doesn't swerve into the median on the expressway.)

We decided to take my mom's 2002 Ford Explorer on the trip, because it is less old and more reliable than my 1994 Ford Taurus. On the way to Charleston, we took the "scenic route." Well, at least a man who commented on Trip Advisor said it was scenic. He claimed that the route would take us through several quaint small towns, and that it provided a pleasant alternative to the monotonous sights of the highway. I was the driver for the trip up, and I enthusiastically took this route in hope of maybe encountering some interesting antique stores during our trip.

Well, let me just tell you, you would only have thought the route to be scenic if your idea of the picturesque comes from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre movies! There was, like, one small town we went through, and the rest of the time all we saw were wide-open areas that appeared uninhabited, some small houses, and one rusty metal thing that looked like an old, unused chicken coop, and that probably housed Leatherface himself! Also, the "scenic route" added about an hour to our trip, and by the time we were approaching Charleston, I was beginning to feel like the protagonist of Into the Wild.

There's a creepy reflection in that window.
Alas, we finally did arrive in Charleston, pulling into our hotel's parking lot, and promptly discovering that the back window of the car was falling off. We were quite thankful that it had not flown off the car during our drive, causing a calamitous, multi-car accident. (Calamitous, multi-car accidents are usually not a good way to start a vacation.) it was Sunday when we arrived, and after scouring the internet for open car-repair places, we learned that none were open on Sundays. We talked to my dad and my Uncle Scott, and they recommended that we take the car to the local Ford dealership the next day, because they were likely to have the necessary parts on hand, and then we wouldn't have to spend as much time waiting as we might if we went somewhere that didn't have the parts readily available.

The next morning, my mom and I headed to the Palmetto Ford dealership, where an affable fellow named Jim informed us that the repair of the half falling off window would not require us to pay anything because it was covered under an earlier product recall (I guess we missed the boat on that one!). We sat in the waiting room, where I knitted and my mom became the official Keurig Coffeemaker Usage Liaison to all patrons who came in to wait for their cars to be repaired. A man showed her how to use the machine when she came in, because It was a commercial model, so it functioned differently than the one she has at home. Once she learned how to operate it, she began to spread her newfound knowledge to anyone who looked perplexed and in need of a caffeine fix. 
Do you feel a kinship with Liam Neeson 
too?
Also, the entire time we waited, the tv was tuned to the channel on Xfinity that shows you all the movies you can watch On Demand. After seeing Liam Neeson talk about a plane being hijacked for the 634th time, I asked the person in the office next door how to change the channel, to which she responded that the tv was on a timer, and that we would be subjected to Liam's fight against terrorism for the foreseeable future. At this point, after we had waited for approximately 14 days, and at a point at which I had begun to feel a real kinship with Liam Neeson, old Jim came in to inform us that, while they were trying to reattach the back window of the car they had broken the glass. Now, this was apparently not a problem because they had temporarily attached an unbroken window to the car, although the piece below the window was all scratched up. They could simply install a window without a scratched piece the next day when we returned to the dealership, but they would need until then to get it ready because they had to paint it to match the car. Oh joy! We had arrived at the dealership around 8 AM, and finally left around 10:30 AM, plus we would get to return in less than 24 hours!

Our trip to Charleston was very short, and we were leaving the next morning (Tuesday morning). When Tuesday morning arrived, we packed up the car and got to the Ford dealership at 7 AM, hoping that our early arrival would give us a shot at leaving the city by lunchtime. We returned to the waiting area, and my mom resumed her coffee liaison duties, and I knitted again. Sadly, Liam Neeson was no longer on the tv, so we watched Good Morning America instead. After only an hour, our car was ready. We thanked old Jim, and headed out, stopping at Publix to buy some drinks and crackers for our trip, and then at McDonald's for breakfast. Right after we had driven out of the McDonald's parking lot, and just before we entered the highway (No more scenic route for us!) mom received a call from Jim at the Ford dealership. He informed her that the technician who had repaired the car had left a drill in the back, and he was sorry for the inconvenience, but could we return the drill to the dealership?

We pulled over to be sure there actually was a drill in the back of the car, and discovered that the technician had left, like, all of his tools in the back of the car. I mean, we could have started our very own Lowe's or Home Depot with the stock left in the back of the Explorer. We drove back to the dealership, and Jim reclaimed the tools, apologizing heartily. We weren't upset because, by that point, the whole thing had just become comical.

We enjoyed our trip to Charleston, in spite
of our car troubles, and also gained some marketable skills in the process. My mom, for example, is now equipped to become a sales representative for Keurig, while I could now be Liam Neeson's understudy for any of his future movie roles. So, our trip to Charleston was not only fun, but also a boon to our resumes. And that constitutes a win in my book!

Sleeping man image courtesy of http://www.rmtracking.com/blog/2009/05/07/gps-monitoring-in-the-workplace-balancing-employee-privacy-and-employer-concerns/

Liam Neeson image courtesy of http://thefilmstage.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/Liam+Neeson+Premiere+Grey+Red+Carpet+8r1qAiLkdIal.jpg

The Sad Truth About Blue Jeans

Pajama Jeans are a good sex education
initiative for programs that want to promote
abstinence.

So, I know it’s been awhile since I have written a new post. I have been busy, as I am sure many of you have, with trying to keep my New Year’s resolutions and then not keeping them, and then saying I will start tomorrow. More on that soon. Anyway, though—today I just want to share a short, light, whimsical story of my sadness. Yesterday at work was a day when I could wear jeans if I also wore a hat. My school has these hats and jeans days once a month. (It’s a character education initiative, and I won’t go into it here, but the hats do, indeed, actually link to something educational.) Telling me I can wear a hat to work is like telling me that all calories in all foods have been suspended for the day and I can eat whatever I want; it is the realization of a dream of mine.

There is not much I enjoy less than having to get up at 5:45 in the morning and fix my hair. Fixing it usually involves washing it, and getting in the shower at a time when I am barely conscious and would rather roll back over and continue dreaming that every furniture item in my house is made of edible chocolate is unpleasant, at best. At worst it is harrowing and enough to drive me to drink. So, knowing that there is one day a month when I can just get up, throw on a hat, and then wear my comfy jeans is a lifeline that gets me through washing my hair early in the morning most days. In my ideal world, my every-day work wardrobe would consist of pajama pants and my extra-large-sized t-shirt I got when I finished physical therapy for my shoulder, you know? After all, although everyone acts like jeans are so comfortable, we all know that pants with an elastic waist are the best things in the world! In fact, I think they should be worn everywhere, and that designer outfits should be based on them. Come to think of it, maybe I should just start wearing those Pajama Jeans I have seen on TV to work on hats and jeans days. That would be a good compromise! (Although, something tells me that the wearing of Pajama Jeans would sound the death knell for my sense of style, and the chance that I will ever go on a date again.)

Today the unthinkable happened: I forgot about the hats and jeans day! In fact, I not only forgot about it, but I actually even went the extra mile and dressed up, and even wore tights, even though I had to wear an orthopedic boot on my left foot because I almost have a stress fracture. I was feeling all good about myself because I had miraculously somehow picked out my outfit the night before I wore it, and then I walked into my school and saw several women in jeans and baseball caps, and I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. (In reality it was just the waistband of my tights creating a spectacular muffin top, which I hid under a blue sweater-top and a cardigan.)

If you ever had a chance to wear jeans to work, and you forgot and wore a dress you got on clearance at an Old Navy end-of-season sale that you had to put two sweaters over to make it weather appropriate, then you feel my pain. I wanted to squat down and scream a-la John McEnroe in the 1980’s. And to top it all off, yesterday was a day I worked the after-school program, so I was at work hanging out in my tights with my dramatic muffin top until 6 PM. However, the suave style provided by my black orthopedic boot served to really make my outfit memorable, and I am sure that my co-workers will be whispering about its grandiosity for weeks to come. In fact, maybe I could take a photo of myself wearing my orthopedic boot, and find a photo of another woman wearing an orthopedic boot, and I could put it out in a “Who Wore It Best?” column on my blog. I think this idea has merit!

I am now hoping we will get another jeans day sometime soon so that I can have the opportunity to pair my orthopedic boot with jeans, and maybe actually tuck my jeans into my boot, as that is clearly the style now. I hope that you never experience the abject despair I experienced upon realizing I had missed out an opportunity to both wear comfy pants and not fix my hair. However, if you do arrive at work and discover you have missed such a fashion opportunity, I recommend that you immediately open Google, search for Pajama Jeans, and choose the rush delivery!

My New Year’s Resolutions- Part 1 (Or Day 24- Christmas Miracles)

What's that Betsey Johnson? You are so amazed by all the
weight I've lost? You want me to wear your swimsuit
everywhere? Okay, I'll do it!

So, I didn’t ever post my miracle for Christmas Day, but I am actually glad that I didn’t, because I have had some time to reflect on Christmas being over, and have realized that the final Christmas miracle is that we have a chance to start anew. So, now that Christmas is over, and I still have a bunch of time off, what better to consider than my New Year’s resolutions? Now, typically I am not a huge believer in New Year’s resolutions. I mean, my declaration that I am going to stop eating an entire pan of Ghirardelli brownies in one sitting is not actually going to be more effective on January 1 than it would be on June 1, but something about the new year makes us hopeful that we will be able to make changes in our lives. It is like getting a do-over of all the bad decisions we made, crappy things we ate and drank, and good things we neglected to do during the previous year.

So, even though I don’t 100% believe that New Year’s resolutions are totally effective, I always make some anyway. What can I say? I’m a sheep! Baa! The next few posts will be about my New Year’s resolutions, and also things I wish for the new year. My biggest New Year’s resolution is to lose the remainder of the weight I want to lose. I have already lost 40 pounds, but have not made much progress since the summer, and have gained a little back since Halloween. (Hey, we’ve all been there). Last night, like a madwoman, I exercised late at night because, clearly, I was on crack or something. I also did arm weights and ab exercises. I plan to do cardio, arm weights, and ab exercises as many days as possible because I want to lose weight and also be toned.

In fact, I want to look so good that I will be able to wear this two-piece Betsey Johnson swimsuit I bought a couple of years ago on clearance. I bought it to inspire myself, and it is a size large. Even when I wore a size 8 in pants I still had to buy size large shirts because I have big shoulders and the girls aren’t tiny either. Plus, I am just not a petite person. If I get to my goal weight and look great I will be more than happy to buy size large shirts and swimsuits for the remainder of eternity. In fact, if I get to looking fantastic, I am only going to wear that two-piece swimsuit. Everywhere I go. I will wear it to work, to doctor’s appointments, and out to walk my dog. I would also love to take photos of myself in my swimsuit looking great and post them next to my before picture on all forms of social media known to man, but I will not do that, because that is tacky, and almost all women hate it when other women post half-naked photos on Facebook. (Those who do not are probably the ones posting these photos).

So, instead of disseminating pictures of myself I will, as I said, just wear the swimsuit absolutely everywhere. And, if it gets cold, I will just wear a wetsuit everywhere I go. You see, it has been a long time that I have not been proud of how I look, so if I do actually get to the point where I am happy about my body then I am going to want everyone to know. Perhaps I will have to install a pool. On my roof. And then I will spend the day lying next to my pool waving at the neighbors. You get the picture.

I am actually not narcissistic, at least not more than the typical person but, you all know how it feels. If you lose weight, or get your teeth whitened, or get an awesome new haircut and you know you look good, then you don’t mind if other people see you. Particularly if you weren’t so happy with how you looked previously. So, if you are driving down the road and you see a woman in a swimsuit walking down the sidewalk, that will be me. So, get out of your car, walk with me, and show off the awesome things about yourself!

Betsey Johnson image courtesy of http://www.biography.com/imported/images/Biography/Images/Profiles/J/Betsey-Johnson-23182-2-402.jpg