My Real Life

February 21, 2023

Where’s the Snow?

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am
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If you are of a certain age (my age) you are hopefully saying the title of today’s post in a Clara Peller voice.

(If you don’t know who Clara Peller is, you probably aren’t old enough for this blog.)

Grumpy old lady voice aside, it’s the question I have been asking myself all winter.

Where’s the snow?

I know many of you have had a freezing, snowy, stormy winter, and I am sorry for all of the trauma that has caused those of you who are struggling with this.

And please know that my desire for true winter weather does not diminish my sympathy for the issues that many of you are having with the same thing that I am wishing for.

I just miss my snow.

I live in New Jersey for a reason.

Well, for a lot of reasons, I guess, but one of the main ones is that I love the seasons.

Anyone who buys the hype of New Jersey being a highway only, over-crowded, armpit of America has never really been here. You might have flown into Newark airport and considered that to be New Jersey. You may have visited one city and taken that to be representative of the entire state.

It’s the equivalent of thinking that New York City is all that massive state has to offer and it’s just wrong.

I love watching New Jersey come alive in the spring, luxuriating in the summer sun on the beaches, and taking drives to see the amazing fall foliage that just doesn’t happen globally.

And in the winter, I love the snow.

I have always loved the snow.

Fall is my favorite season, but winter is a close second.

But only when there is snow.

My childhood winters were spent in snow forts, sled, having snowball fights, making snow angels, skating on Burnham Pond.

We’d suit up in the morning, feet in trash bags before our boots went on, snow pants, jackets, mittens, gloves, hats, scarves, and…being the 80’s…we knew we had to get ourselves geared up for a long, cold day with maybe one hot chocolate break in the middle of the day.

If we were lucky.

And we loved it.

In the snow, the world was new and the neighborhood, of which we already knew every inch, was transformed into a wonderland, full of new adventures.

My friend, Gail, had a backyard that was a straight down hill. We would spend hours sledding down that hill, slamming into the fence at the bottom, until her mother would come out and make us move before we broke the fence…again.

Then we would just find other hills to sled down, and after hours, finally exhausted of climbing back up the hills, we would lay in the snow and make angels.

With her brother, Greg, and the neighbors, Jennifer and Nicky, we would fashion, what we imagined to be, massive igloos and forts, in which we would take shelter from the ensuing snowball fight.

And finally, at the end of the day, we’d return to our homes, peel off our gear, watch the piles of snow, that had crept their way into our pant legs and sleeves, fall on the floor and melt.

Faces red, fingers numb, and bodies thoroughly exhausted from the physical joy of the day.

Gail (left) and me (right), circa 1981(?)

As an adult, I still enjoy the sledding, although I don’t have the same stamina for the climb up the hill.

And I’ve been known to pack a mean snowball and to hold my own in a snowball fight.

But, today, I love watching my kids do all the things that I used to do; not to live vicariously, but because they seem to get the same joy out of it.

They actively measure the snow on the deck, and giggle with glee once it surpasses the step up from the deck to the kitchen, and even further, the base of the sliding door. Because that, my friends, is “playing snow.”

They, too, don’t feel the cold, as they are caught up in the wonder of the moment, as evidenced by the time I looked out onto the deck to see how they were faring and found both of Tiny’s boots on the deck, and Tiny in the snow in his socks.

“They got stuck, Mama, but I still play. I not cold.” – Tiny, circa 2014

Our backyard, neglected for the majority of the year, becomes a slalom, a luge, a bobsled track, and for hours, they will play.

(I should clarify that the “they” which I discuss has dwindled down to Tiny and Baby Monkey, who always makes sure Tiny has someone to play with in the snow.)

I love standing outside and listening to the silence when the snow falls.

The world just settles and everything is muffled and quiet and for just a moment, the world feels at peace.

And, to be fully transparent, I love the anticipation of a snow day call.

Gone are the days of having to wake up at the crack of dawn to listen to 1250 am WMTR to see if they called our district off for the day, but I can find the same satisfaction in hearing my phone buzz with that lovely text.

And when it does, I can never fall back to sleep, but instead, I silently creep downstairs, make a cup of tea, build a fire in the fireplace, open a book, and settle in for the day under a blanket.

Can I build a fire any day of the year? Sure can.

Can I drink tea and read under a blanket any day? Of course.

But it just hits differently, knowing that there is nowhere I have to be, and even if there is, I probably shouldn’t brave the roads.

On a snowy day, I fully feel the hygge that I connect with my Danish ancestors. Outside it is cold and snowy, but inside, it is warm, and cozy, and calm.

I love looking up from my story every now and then, and seeing this in my backyard:

Just give me one, solid, good day of snow. At least 6″ of playing snow. Let my kids get the call that the day belongs to them, let me build my fire, and let me snuggle up and read.

However, not to be picky, but… let it happen after March 4 so we don’t have to cancel play practice.

Please, and thank you.

February 13, 2023

The Big Game

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am
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I always have to laugh on Super Bowl Sunday.

My Facebook feed alternates between people saying “I couldn’t care less about the big game…anyone else?” and others changing their profile pictures to match the colors of the team they are rooting for.

Me?

I’ll admit. I’m a fan.

I am probably more there for the commercials, but football is my favorite sport (that one of my kids is not playing) to watch. (No one tell Real Man or Monkey Boy or their hockey hearts will be broken)

I’m disappointed when it’s not a good game, and I’m thrilled when it’s close and exciting.

I’m a lifelong Browns fan (no comments from the peanut gallery) so I’m against any team from Pennsylvania. So for tonight, I’m a Chief’s fan.

I enjoy watching the game with friends and dissecting the commercials, the halftime show, and generally chatting, but I also enjoy watching the game in my jammies on my couch.

Tonight is going to be a jammies on the couch kind of night.

And since it’s that kind of night, I figured I’d share my thoughts on the show with all of you, which is something probably NONE of you need in your lives.

Prepare for some stream of consciousness writing, friends:

Disclaimer: Jersey Mike’s had a “miscommunication” over my order and I missed half of the “Pre-Kick” show.

And why is it the “Pre-Kick” show? What happened to “Pre-Game?”

What is this Eagles intro with the guy introducing them all in a club? I think I’m too old for this.

I can’t see Erin Andrews without thinking of her season of Dancing with the Stars…I think it was the best season I watched.

I was eating my sub when the Pizza Hut New Yorker pizza commercial came on, and I have never wanted to throw my dinner in the trash and get something else faster.

The Tillman Scholars…loved that tribute. Beautiful foundation.

Guardians of the Galaxy…I’m so in. I love those movies.

As a teacher, watching the intro with the kids chasing “the impossible dream” hit my heart. Every kid in my class has a dream. A great reminder for all us to support and encourage them all.

OMG. The Eagles are gonna score on their first possession, aren’t they? Are you kidding me? My brother-in-law, a lifelong Chiefs fan, must be furious right now.

Unreal.

Real Man just said “That doesn’t bode well.” I concur.

And, so far, I’m not winning the pool.

When they do a close-up of both teams right after the hut, (I don’t know what it’s called, it reminds me of when I played rugby in college. Have I ever told you guys that story? Anyway, it reminds me of the scrum and makes me smile from my rugby memories)

I can’t watch Ben Affleck in the Dunkin’ commercial after watching him get yelled at by JLo at the Grammy’s. Have you seen that video? She scolds him, he rolls his eyes and sits up and they both sit there, looking miserable and then he realizes they are on camera and slowly gets this slow, fake smile, and then she does the same. It’s amazing.

No thanks, avocados. I do NOT need to see everyone in their birthday suits.

Okay, back to the game.

In our house, we like Pacheco because he’s from Rutgers, Real Man’s alma mater.

Whoo-hoo!!!

I’m still not winning the pool.

You had better be kidding me right now with the new Indiana Jones movie. Indiana Jones is MY FAVORITE. I’m not even paying attention to the eTrade babies right now because I am so excited about the new Indiana Jones flick!!! I know where I’ll be on June 30.

Wait, that was an alcohol commercial for Remy Martin? I don’t get it. I don’t see the connection. But, I’m not the target audience, too I guess that’s okay.

Bradley Cooper and his Mom were pretty adorable.

Clueless. Yes. please.

Okay, listen. Real Man and Tiny are just talking through the commercials, friends. This is not okay.

Real Man just asked the question “How many houses in the US do you think are watching the Super Bowl in a room with a still decorated, still lit Christmas tree?”

I don’t know the answer, but I know it’s at least one. Yes sir, it’s at least one.

And I don’t want to talk about it.

I wonder how many people just won money for the ball hitting the goal post. People will bet on anything.

Man, Serena Williams is getting paid this Super Bowl!

Unbelievable. Eagles score again.

And I still have no numbers in the pool.

Just realized that so far, there have been no Coca-Cola or Doritos or Budweiser commercials. I feel like those are usually an early staple in the Super Bowl. Maybe later.

I’m not sure how I feel about a Rhianna half time show. I’ll be honest, I haven’t listened to a lot of current music lately. Lots of my Spotify playlist. However, I do love a good show and I hear she puts on a great one.

I always love Steve Martin

Okay, as a diabetic, the Dexcom commercial Is intriguing.

Will Ferrell and electric cars, going through the different movies was fun to watch, but I’m not ready for an EV.

I wonder, though. Are people influenced by advertising? Like, do commercials really make people buy a product? I am certainly moved to watch a movie or a show that I see an ad for, but as for buying a product? I’m more swayed by someone who has tried it telling me if it’s worth the money. That’s why I like TikTok. Okay, it’s not the only reason I like TikTok, but I do appreciate watching people actually try things out that I was thinking of buying.

But that’s an awful lot of money to spend on an ad if it really isn’t going to make someone buy the product. I guess just putting the product in someone’s mind is the actual goal.

But how often do we say “I LOVE that commercial! Now, what are they selling again?”

Totally defeats the purpose.

Oh, HELLO!!! Scoop and Score!!!

That twitch on the last play just changed the game!

I’m still not winning the pool.

Turbo Tax. Please don’t do that to Safety Dance.

I just asked Baby Monkey (who turned 17 yesterday) if he could pre-heat the oven for our half-time snacks. He came back in the room and asked why I’m boiling a million dollars.

Took me a second and then I realized he was referring to the pot that still holds the eggs I boiled today for my lunches during the week.

Because, how about the price of eggs! Stupid avian flu.

I need something to happen here for me to win the halftime pool. I’m not holding my breath.

Eagles are going to score again before the half.

Yeah, I didn’t even finish typing that sentence before Hurts ran it across the goal line.

That wasn’t what I needed to win the pool.

Hmmm. I love my iPhone, but being able to fix your pictures makes the Google Pixel look mighty attractive.

I’m just saying, I’ve never gotten my hand stuck in a canister of Pringles.

Aw, Damar Hamlin!

That was a scary, scary thing. The human body, man. It’s so amazing and yet, at just the right moments, so fragile.

Oh no. Mahomes is limping off the field. Is that the game, folks? They just did a replay and he was tackled by the ankle, it seems, and now on the sidelines he is hurting. That poor guy.

Okay, Doritos. Jack Harlow. I liked it. Thanks for showing up.

Oh man, of course the puppy commercial comes on when Real Man is out of the room. The monkeys and I have been trying to convince him for YEARS that we need a dog. I just miss having a dog. It’s been 19 years since we’ve had one. Too long.

Nope. That’s not a catch by Smith, but we think they are going to give it to him.

Huh! We stand corrected!

You guys, it’s 8:13 and I have yawned three times in the past 5 minutes. AND, it’s a school night.

Once my potato skins are out of the oven, I’ll perk up.

No halftime pool win over here.

I think I’d like to take a cruise. There’s something a little claustrophobic about the idea, but at the same time, just being out there, being forced to relax, being fed all day. I’m in. Like, really in.

Are you kidding me? Is this a dating show for FARMERS???

I love farms and ranches. I have always loved them. And now a dating show set there? I may have to check this one out.

Wait, there was more than one Creed movie? I’m so out of the movie game.

Okay, the floating platforms? I dig it.

Tiny just said that he felt some of the dancing was inappropriate. 😂

Good show! Visually stunning and great music.

Ooh, loved the commercial for women in football.

I have now eaten the equivalent of two potatoes. I’m ready for the second half.

I wish we had those ShopRite chocolate brownies with the chocolate frosting and sprinkles on them.

They are THE BEST.

Nice run, Chiefs! And go Rutgers alum!

I never thought I’d want to see a movie about sneakers. But I will totally see that movie.

Wait, that’s not a catch, right? I mean, I’d love the touchdown, but is that a catch?

OMG! It’s a touchdown!

Nope. Not a catch, not a touchdown. Don’t play with my emotions, Super Bowl.

Bud Light. That counts as Budweiser. So, unless I’ve dozed off somewhere along the way, I’m only missing Coca-Cola in my Super Bowl commercial trifecta.

Guys…I’m so tired. My eyes are closing, but we’re not even close to being done yet.

I was up late with Baby Monkey, last night, watching movies and then was up this morning for piano lessons. So, tonight, 9:00 was my limit, apparently.

Love Dave Grohl.

What’s with all the QR codes? The last thing I want to do is pull out my phone and scan something. Let’s stop making tv interactive.

Hmmm…if the Eagles could get a safety I could win it all.

But then the Chiefs would lose and the Eagles would win. Ick.

Still…maybe it’s now sorta “Go Eagles?”

Nah. I’ll stay true to the Chiefs.

Was that just a Scientology commercial?????

Nice job, Chiefs.

Okay, this commercial isn’t helping Real Man want a dog. At all.

Oh, thank goodness…they got the puppy a puppy!

Rockstars…such a cute commercial!!!

I’ve perked up a bit and am hopeful for this fourth quarter.

Or maybe I’m just excited because I know it’s almost bedtime.

This is 51.

Do you think Mahomes is in, like, so much pain, and is just playing through it so he can see the game through? Do you think the trainers realize? I feel like they have to know how bad the damage is. Can they, in good conscience, or even legally, allow him to play if he is really hurt? Do you think his Mom is watching and yelling for him to get off the field before he permanently damages himself?

That was an AMAZING punt return!!! I thought he was going all the way! GO CHIEFS!!!

Hang on…how adorable are those Chiefs, before the play, dancing around each other in a circle?

Guys, our tv just started losing the signal. We have a big circle circling on our screen. Seriously?

Screen came back, apparently there was a touchdown.

And a safety?

OMG. A Tie.

Makes sense. They have the exact same stats for the whole season. This is the most evenly matched SuperBowl I think I’ve ever seen.

It’s gonna come down to a game winning field goal.

And guess what?

I’m not gonna win the pool.

Nice run, Mahomes. But I see you limping after that run.

Do you think John Travolta is doing that T-Mobile commercial now because Olivia Newton John refused to do Grease related commercials and he couldn’t do them without her before? And John Travolta and the guys from Scrubs? Interesting match.

People love cooking competition shows.

Not me.

I don’t like cooking, myself, so I am definitely not going to be watching other people cook. And get yelled at while cooking. That’s just an all-around no thanks for me.

Winning field goal was kicked, the clock is running down and the Chiefs just won the SuperBowl.

I did not win the pool.

And now I’m going to bed.

February 6, 2023

Can’t Take the Heat

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am
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Every family has one.

You may say that you don’t, but I bet you do.

That one item.

The item that you have way more than you need because either:

  1. You keep losing them and purchasing more
  2. It’s an item that you think you just can’t get enough of
  3. You keep thinking they are broken and replacing them, but not throwing out the old ones because they just might un-break while you are sleeping

In our home, that item is a thermometer, and the reason is number three.

To illustrate…

One after the other, these thermometers have done their jobs, but then, suddenly, not so much.

I have changed batteries religiously, and yet, the numbers still seem way too low.

I’m aware that humans are no longer supposed to be 98.6. We’ve gotten cooler as we’ve evolved, and the prevailing theory is that we aren’t as active as we used to be, and that’s why our average is now in the 97’s.

And the 98.6 was a (not entirely) arbitrary number chosen as the average by a German doctor in the 1800’s and I think we all know that medicine in the 1800’s wasn’t exactly top notch.

But, our thermometers were registering us at 93, or sometimes even 92, and I knew that couldn’t be right, as I kissed a hot little forehead, and so I kept going out and buying new ones.

We even have (as you can see) the forehead strip thermometers. Something needs be to accurate, right?

So, over the years, I have accumulated the collection above. And when someone feels warm to me, I take their temperature not once, not twice, but usually no less than 3 times, with three different devices and none of them ever seem accurate to me.

And, full disclosure, friends…

I want to buy another one. I’m thinking maybe one of those forehead scanners would be more accurate.

Maybe I’m the one with the sickness.

A thermometer sickness.

But maybe, just maybe, none of those thermometers are broken and we are just a super cool family.

After all, when signing in to see my Dad at the hospital last night, my Mom’s temperature registered at 94.2.

And their thermometers HAVE to be right…

Right?

January 31, 2023

Theme Songs

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am
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As I fall asleep at night, I binge watch/sleep through a variety of shows that I have loved in the past.

Following a story helps my brain not perseverate on whatever it is that I’m currently experiencing anxiety about, and having it be a storyline that I already know allows me to not have to focus fully, and drift off to sleep.

The only problem is, as I rewatch these shows, I am 100% positive that the theme songs are different.

The first time I noticed it was when I was rewatching Gilmore Girls.

Season One was definitely good ole’ Carole King, but then, suddenly, in later seasons, I swear the song was different.

I would flip back and forth between season one and whatever season I was currently on, listening and listening. I couldn’t mark the difference, but I swear it was there.

When I finished Gilmore Girls, I moved onto Friends.

Again, season one was super familiar, but by the time I hit the end of the show, I felt like it had undergone quite a few iterations.

And it was driving me crazy.

I couldn’t decide if I was really hearing it or if I had just forgotten how it sounded, way back when.

Flipping between seasons, like the eye doctor showing different lenses, “One? Or two? One? Or two?” I couldn’t distinguish between them, but again, I just knew they were different.

I’m currently falling asleep to Sex and the City.

And rather than fast fowarding through the intro, I have been paying close attention.

And I’m telling you…it is not the same as it was when I watched that show on tv.

And it’s not the same from season to season. It’s just not.

You probably think I’m crazy for obsessing about this. After all, the whole point of bingeing these shows is so I don’t have to think about them.

And, yes, I finally googled it.

It’s a thing. Producers don’t want to spend the money on the licensing of the song for streaming.

However, every article I find says that Gilmore Girls never changed their theme song from start to finish to streaming.

Yes, Gilmore Girls. Yes. You. Did.

It’s subtle. It’s barely noticeable. But you did, and I’m not crazy.

January 23, 2023

Shaun Cassidy

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am
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I am well aware that 95% of the people reading this post have no idea who Shaun Cassidy is, and to that, I just have to say, I’m so sorry for you.

To those of you who DaDoKnowKnow who he is, then you will probably better appreciate this story.

So, over the summer, I was scrolling through TikTok and I came across this video. Everyone who commented went between thinking it was hilarious and thinking it was terrible of her dad to do this.

But friends, rewind that clock back to 1979/1980 and I WAS that girl.

We were out in Ohio with my grandparents and we were out to dinner and as a typical late 70’s 7/8 year old girl, I had THE BIGGEST crush on Shaun Cassidy.

Wavy golden locks. Big, beautiful eyes. Shaun Cassidy was the first boy to set my heart aflutter.

So, there we were in the restaurant (which I have a vague memory as being The Lobster Shanty, but is there a Lobster Shanty near Ashtabula, Ohio? It is near Lake Erie, so maybe? Are there lobsters in lakes? Are they just ocean creatures? I have no idea!) (also…I’m allergic to seafood…would my parents take me to the Lobster Shanty? Yeah, probably. Sorry Mom and Dad, but you know it’s true.) and the waiter came to the table and I was dumbfounded. Completely speechless.

Our waiter was Shaun Cassidy.

I was sure of it.

No thoughts crossed my mind like, “What would a mega superstar be doing serving at a restaurant in Ashtabula, Ohio?” (Just like, at the time, I didn’t question the existence of a Lobster Shanty in Ohio, but I digress…again)

Instead, my mind thought “Shauncassidyshauncassidyshauncassidy” over and over and over.

When he left, I leaned into my Dad and whispered “Daddy, I am pretty sure that our waiter is Shaun Cassidy.” And my Dad said “Oh yeah? Like, THE Shaun Cassidy?”

“Yes!” I said. “I can’t believe it!”

My Dad said “Me neither!” and patted me on the head.

I assumed that was the end of the conversation and that my Dad and I were in on some massive secret, and wasn’t that awesome, and weren’t we a sleuthy team?

And then the waiter came back.

And my Dad said “Excuse me, my daughter is positive that you are Shaun Cassidy. Are you Shaun Cassidy?”

Obviously he said no, but I have no idea as to the actual words he used, because, at that point I slid under the table, the original TikTok girl, embarrassed by her Dad. I’m pretty sure I stayed there for most of the meal, (because, again…seafood restaurant, so why not), because I was mortified.

Great story, right?

Well, that, my friends, is not the story I’m here to tell.

The story I’m sharing is not one of embarrassment. It’s one of triumph.

My parents moved from my childhood home when I was a sophomore in college. I was away at school when they moved, and so they packed up my belongings and the movers put them in a truck.

It took longer than expected to pack up our little home, and at the end of the day, the movers decided that it was better to move in the next morning than to try to get it done that night. So, my parents agreed for the movers to bring the locked trucks to their depot for the night.

Except, it rained that night, my friends. And the truck which held everything I owned that was not currently with me at college? Well, that truck’s roof had a leak in it. And it flooded. And I lost everything I owned. The clothes I hadn’t brought with me. Toys I had held onto. My books. My albums.

When they called, I was devastated. I can’t even talk about the books. My cassette tapes that I had spent hours taping off the radio.

But let’s discuss the albums. Sure, it was now the 90’s and cd’s were the thing, but I had some albums from my childhood that I had held onto because I just LOVED them.

The Halloween album that I’ve never been able to find again. My Grease double record set. Along those lines, (and RIP Olivia Newton John), my Olivia Newton John’s Greatest Hits album. Michael Jackson’s Thriller. Some Sesame Street albums. My first 45, Hall and Oates’ Maneater. The list goes on and on.

Among those lost was my favorite album from my younger childhood years, and what I believe to be my first album, Shaun Cassidy.

I had drawn lips and hearts all over that album. I loved it. I knew every word to every song. And, even though, by the age of 19, I had gotten over my crush on Shaun Cassidy, it just gave me memories of the mid-70’s, reminded me of the home we lived in from the age of 3-8, of which I didn’t have many memories, reminded me of singing and dancing with my earliest childhood friend, Judy, and just made me feel good.

For 30+ years, I have always mourned the loss of my books and albums (and some of my 80’s fashion that I had refused to part with). As an adult, when I go to garage sales, I look to see if I can replace any of what was lost so many years ago.

Can I buy them all new? Sure. But I like getting the beat up copies that look more like mine. I buy any Sweet Valley High or original Nancy Drew hardcover that I find. I pick through the albums at the Goodwill and drag whoever is with me in the car to every yard sale just to see if they might have anything I’ve been missing all these years.

With books, I’ve done well at replacing my collection. Albums? Not as much.

Over the summer, I was in an antique store, trying to sell some items, and after wandering for awhile, I found an album section and started thumbing through. And suddenly, I gasped. There it was. There he was.

Shaun. Cassidy.

And, so I had to buy it. (and no, the replacement did not have the full sized, autographed poster inside)

Listen, I don’t have a lot of vices. I don’t smoke, I really don’t even drink, I’ve never done drugs. But words and music? Those are my things. My Achilles heel. My books. My music. Aside from my friends and family, they are everything to me.

I brought that album home and played that record and sang and danced around the room for quite some time. Everyone here thought I was crazy, but for just those moments, I was transported to a simpler time where my greatest responsibility was remembering to take out the dog, and my biggest worry was the dirt spot on my rainbow pinstriped white jeans.

I’ve seen the videos of people playing popular music of their youth to patients suffering from Alzheimer’s disease, and I’ve watched them absolutely come alive. People who have been catatonic suddenly smiling and tapping their feet, and sometimes, even singing along.

I get it.

Music. Your music. My music.

It becomes part of us. It soothes our aches. It sparks our memories. It creates our joy.

Thanks, Shaun. For a little while, I was a kid again, this summer, and it was wonderful.

Signed,

Your Biggest Fan

January 17, 2023

Turkey Driver

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am

I made someone mad today.

I went grocery shopping, and it was the first trip I’ve made where I haven’t had to pick anything up for my father-in-law, who we lost last week.

I was definitely in my head as I drove from one store to the other (I shop in two stores to save some money) and I must have been driving too slowly for the driver behind me.

They slammed on their horn, long and loud and then swerved to pass me.

However, we were pulling up to a red light at the time, so they wound up idling right next to me.

I inched up a little so our windows were parallel and looked in the car.

The woman started frantically gesticulating while mouthing (I assume she was yelling, but I could only see her mouth move) something like “Why can’t you drive? You’re so slow! What’s wrong with you?”

Her anger seemed disproportionate to the situation.

So, I simply smiled, raised an eyebrow and mouthed back “Really?”

And, man, did that piss her off.

She starts gesturing, pushing her hair back from her face, like model, in what I assume was a dig at me, like I thought I was so special. She made like, a “La-Di-Dah” gesture with her hands and then continued to act like I was somehow pretending to be better than her.

Friends, at the time of me writing this, I haven’t showered in two days. My hair is greasy, I’m wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday. I’m exhausted and have bags under my eyes. In no way, shape, or form do I look like someone who thinks they are too good to follow the rules of the road.

She then started mouthing all sorts of things that I didn’t understand, and then started hugging her shoulders and mouthing “OOOh, I’m so scared! I’m so scared!” and making faces at me.

All the while, I just sat there, watching her, smiling.

She was SO mad, at this point, and I noticed a little shadow in the back seat, so I assume she also had a child in the car with her, watching this all go down. At one point she turned to say something to them, so I know there was someone back there, I just don’t know who.

But, I couldn’t muster up the energy to be angry back. And I didn’t want to be. I didn’t want her child to be afraid, and I just wasn’t angry, despite her theatrics.

The past few days, the mantra has been that “peace and harmony” is the way to go, and I recalled a story that my husband told at the repast, following his father’s funeral, two days ago.

In discussing how even tempered his father had been, he said that the most scandalous thing that his father had said was when someone cut him off in traffic and he came out with (imagine this in a thick, Jersey City accent) “Aw geez…what a turkey driver!”

And as that story went through my head, I just started to laugh. I laughed and laughed at the antics in the car next to me, and I laughed at the memory of that beautiful man saying “turkey driver” as the biggest insult he could think of.

The light turned green and she zipped through the intersection and way ahead of me and that was the end of our interaction.

The point of this story?

Be gracious, friends.

Be patient, be kind.

I absolutely could have been someone who was distracted with their phone or someone who wasn’t paying attention to the road, or who was just a bad driver. I could definitely have earned her anger.

But, I also could have been exactly what I was. Someone who was sad and lost in their thoughts and not driving exactly the way this woman wanted me to drive.

And for all I know, she had just gotten a call and was on the way to the hospital, or was trying to get to someone quickly who needed help.

Don’t meet anger with anger.

Just be kind. We’ve all got stuff going on.

Just be kind.

January 16, 2023

Things I Don’t Understand

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am
Tags: , , ,

I’m a pretty bright woman.

I’m never the smartest in the room, but I consider myself to be fairly intelligent.

And yet, there are many moments in my day when I realize that I 100% do not understand how some things work.

I share this, because I can’t be alone in my head scratching. I know that there are other people out there that wonder the same things, but maybe just don’t say them out loud.

Because, a lot of the world is able to be deciphered.

But some of it? Not in a million years.

Take backflips, for example.

I have looked up the physics of backflips. I have watched slow motion videos where people have explained how to engage the body in such a floppy, twisty feat, and I have, myself, been a gymnast.

And yet…

The backflip? I don’t get it.

If I jump up and throw myself backwards, at best, I’m just landing flat on my back.

At worst, I have the correct arch in my back, but have landed directly on my head and broken my neck.

I don’t get it.

And people do it with such ease. They just jump and throw themselves backwards, and some people don’t even use their hands!!!

I swear there is some type of superpower involved in a backflip.

And if we are talking about things that don’t make any sense being in the air, let’s take a moment to discuss airplanes.

Like…what?

I love to fly and wanted to become a pilot when I was young. But my love of flight and airplanes never translated into an understanding of the physics behind it.

I’ve looked it up on numerous occasions and found the explanation.

Planes fly so fast, and the wind is going so forcefully over the wings and down that it creates lift which counteracts the weight of the plane.

I read the words, I understand what they are saying, but I don’t get it at all.

At all.

A plane is about 90,000 pounds. How is wind able to keep that afloat? That’s 90,000 POUNDS!

If airplanes all had rocket boosters underneath them, keeping them up, like some really high hoverboards, it would make more sense to me.

But nope. Just a smooth underside and little tiny wheels.

It’s not going to stop me from wanting to fly, but it certainly makes my head hurt to think about.

And what are Bitcoin and NFT’s?

My class and I have watched so many student news programs about these two things, and I watch and soak in every word. And then I look at the kids and ask “What did they just say?”

I mean, I even googled the definition. Do you know what that jerk said to me in response?

“a type of digital currency in which a record of transactions is maintained and new units of currency are generated by the computational solution of mathematical problems, and which operates independently of a central bank”

Excuse me? That is supposed to be a clarifying definition???

So, I googled “Bitcoin for Dummies” which brought me to a Bitcoin cheat sheet.

The simplified definition they gave me?

“There is no Bitcoin, actually. There’s nothing tangible, of course, but there’s not even some kind of digital representation of a coin. Rather, Bitcoin is represented by records of Bitcoin transactions in the Bitcoin “ledger,” which is stored in a “blockchain” ― something else that few people understand”

Oooohhhh….yes. Now I completely and totally understand.

C’mon, people. At this point I think it is just some made up thing and that a whole bunch of people are in on the joke and are just laughing at the rest of us. Or me. They are just laughing at me.

And as for how land line telephones, cell phones, wifi, and internet work?

I got nothing.

Make me feel better, friends. Tell me something that doesn’t make sense to you, even though it’s been explained to you over and over.

January 9, 2023

Have I Ever Told You About…

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am
Tags: ,

When I was a kid, my parents and grandparents used to tell me the same stories, over and over again.

Being a typical kid, I likely rolled my eyes and said “Yes, I know. You’ve already told me this one.”

I know every detail of the time that my Dad DIDN’T win the John Phillip Sousa award, his senior year in high school. More to the point, I know that the band director, that year, said that they weren’t going to give the award that year because no one in the senior class was good enough for it. Um, really? Thanks, jerk.

I also can tell you, word for word, the time my Dad got hit in the face with a baseball and ran home to my Grandma, who was working in her beauty shop.

I could tell you the story of my Grandpa Lawrence, who was pitching for a Cleveland farm team and as he threw a pitch, everyone thought a gun had been shot, but it had been his bone breaking from the force of his throw.

Or, perhaps I could regale you with the time my Mom was dating a young man and went to the opera with he and his family. When they got to the restaurant after the show, the wandering musicians were packing up, but when the father said they should open up their cases and play, they opened up their cases, picked up those instruments, and began to play. Because, friends, when (insert mob boss name here) says play, you play.

I assured myself that I would never become an adult who told the same stories, repeatedly, convinced of their innate captivating nature.

No, I would be an adult who told stories once. Fabulous stories that had everyone on the edge of their seat. Including my children.

Guess what, friends.

The other day, Monkey Girl and I were driving as she was delivering an Instacart order, and we passed a residential complex.

“Didn’t you know someone who lived there?” I innocently asked

My eyes were on the road, but I heard the eye roll and she responded “No, Mom, but I know you did. Her name was Sena and you two almost burned down the complex when you were making funnel cake once.”

Oh. I guess she knew that one.

More evidence to my failure to be the “one-time storyteller” I dreamed of being is the fact that, if I start a sentence with “Did I ever tell you about the time…” any of my four children will finish the sentence with “…you and Grandma were driving to Lara Allen’s birthday party and a car was coming down the road and slipped on ice and flipped over and you had to run to a nearby house and have them call 911? Yes, you’ve told us that one.”

Or, on a recent college visit with Monkey Boy to my alma mater, I began “It was on this street…” and the story was finished by one of my children “…that you and Sandy were walking home from the store in the middle of a rainstorm and cars just kept splashing you until you were soaked and you laughed so hard that you peed in your pants. We know.”

There are so many other examples I could give you to demonstrate my repetitive storytelling, but now that I’ve lived a little more, I have a new perspective.

Here’s my take:

While I used to see this, in my parents, as evidence of a faulty memory, of a longing for a different time, or of a boring life where there were only a few stories that were interesting enough to share, I’m starting to see it differently.

Any time anyone wants to tell you some story from their life, they are trying to connect with you. Trying to give you a glimpse of who they are, or maybe even, who they once were. It’s a reminder that our lives are so much bigger and broader than the day to day that most people see. The sharing of life stories is an invitation to share an experience and an opportunity to appreciate someone just a little more.

So, even if you’ve heard it before, the next time someone offers you a story about themselves that you know by heart…just listen. And appreciate the fact that they care enough about you to share that bit of their life with you.

January 3, 2023

TikTok

Filed under: Entertainment,Uncategorized — Amy @ 10:40 am
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

If you’ve been a long time reader of the blog, or friend of mine, or colleague of mine…heck, or even casual acquaintance of mine…it’s no secret that I am a consumer of entertainment.

I love books, movies, tv, Facebook, Instagram, streaming networks…all of it.

I love a story and I love to be entertained.

Heck, I even have a podcast dedicated to streaming platforms. (Didn’t know that? Check out the Boomtron Podcast wherever you listen to your podcasts)

During the pandemic, I found a new method of entertainment, and it’s the TikTok.

I know all the arguments against TikTok.

These fast snippets of videos will teach your brain to lose it’s attention span. It’s voyeurism at it’s height. China is watching you through the app.

All of that may be true, but let’s be honest; my attention span wasn’t anything to write home about before TikTok, and my Mom taught me at an early age that the best time to drive through a neighborhood is at night so you can look through the front windows of homes and see what people are up to.

And if China is spying on me through TikTok, here’s what they’ve learned: (if you now, you know)

-I like to watch people’s morning routines

-I’m obsessed with junk journals (thejulietjournal)

-I love to listen to people talk about books

-I’m super concerned if Kat Stickler will find love again (katstickler)

-I am of the opinion that GenX continues to be the superior generation

-I know way too much about Matt and Abby and their growing family (Matt_and_Abby)

-I want to be like Cecilia from Svalbard, a small island near the north pole (sejsejilja)

-I’m still mourning the loss of Noodle and it will forever be a no bones day without him (jongraz)

-I’m considering throwing it all away to go live in a van and travel the country (abigailmartin)

However, I’ve also learned some important things on TikTok.

Even in the world of book lovers, which is the largest community I am part of on TikTok, (lovingly referred to as BookTok), people can argue about absolutely anything.

-Kindle v Audiobook v Physical Books

-People who read too much v People who read too little

-People who read literature calling people who read fantasy or rom-coms “fake readers” v People who read fantasy or rom-coms calling people who read literature “fake readers”

Can’t we all just agree that books are the best and leave it at that???

In addition to the things I’ve learned, TikTok has also raised some questions for me:

-I don’t go to a gym, but for those of you who do…are you only allowed to go in skintight clothes? Because all the videos people are making of themselves at the gym are of them in skintight leggings and sports bras. Like, what if the whole reason someone wanted to go to the gym was because they aren’t comfortable in those clothes and would like to get there? I have yet to see someone, even in the background of these videos, in baggy sweats.

-Does everyone reset their kitchen at night? Like, are all of you out there making sure there are no dishes in the sink, your kitchen floor is mopped, and the dishwasher is running before you go to bed? Does nobody just say “Forget it…I’m going to bed?”

-Is washing my face and only using my Olay moisturizer not enough? Because the people on TikTok are using about 7 different lotions and toners every time they wash their face, and I’m sorry, I have neither the money, nor the energy for that before I’m going to bed at night.

-Why aren’t all teachers on TikTok? The amount of free ideas that people are sharing for all grades, all subjects, and all levels is astounding. Forget Teachers Pay Teachers…this is better.

So, yeah, I know TikTok is supposed to be for the younger generation, but believe me, there is a well-represented crowd of people who are 45+ making some amazing content out there.

And sure, TikTok can be problematic, but so can anything if it’s misused. The more you watch of any one thing, the more whatever media you are using will feed you that type of content. I can go for days only seeing book videos, because those are the videos that I watch in their entirety and like. Like a good waiter, the app feeds you what you order.

Would I let Tiny on TikTok?

Nope. Not on your life. Not yet.

But I’m 51 and scrolling through TikTok is one of the things that brings me joy, makes me laugh, and makes me think.

Not your cup of tea? No problem. Don’t go there.

Me?

I’m staying.

March 5, 2022

The Weight of the World

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 9:57 am
Tags: , ,

I don’t sleep well.

I fall asleep beautifully. Fairly soon after my head hits the pillow, at night, I am asleep.

I usually suggest to Real Man that we watch some show together, to which he always responds, “You mean do I want to watch a show while you sleep?” which is basically exactly what I mean, but I like to at least pretend like I’m gonna be in the game for awhile before tapping out.

But, even though I can fall asleep in the blink of an eye, I can’t stay asleep.

I usually wake up around 2:30 to 3:00 in the morning. And the moment I’m awake, my brain starts racing. This is the time that I start trying to hash out the problems of the world. Sometimes I can distract myself by popping in my AirPods and listening to a show that I’ve watched a million times so I don’t have to pay attention to the story, but can drift away in the familiar plot.

Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

Benadryl knocks me out, but doesn’t keep me out. Tylenol PM is my nemesis because it somehow gives me restless legs, which, of course, does not help me sleep.

So, sleep is not my friend.

Sleep has been made easier, however, by the introduction of a weighted blanket into my life.

I originally bought one for Monkey Girl, who has her own sleepytime issues and she immediately raved about it. I heard it was good for anxiety, so I bought one for Tiny who worries about everything all the time. He loved it.

Santa decided everyone in the house needed one, and everyone was…underwhelmed.

But man, I loved mine.

When Monkey Boy decided he didn’t need his, I decided I needed two. I can’t sleep, my mind races, one should be better than two, right?

And it is.

Sorta.

We have the 15 pounders, so I am now sleeping under 30 pounds of blanket, and that is not an exaggeration.

It’s amazing. It feels like I’m wrapped up in a big, solid hug all night long.

The only problem is that I don’t like to sleep in the same position all night. I toss, I turn. But under 30 pounds of blankets, I can’t really “toss and turn” as much as struggle and fight my way from one side to the other.

When I wake up in the night, my first instinct has always been to move. Shift to a cool spot on the mattress or pillow, readjust my neck, rearrange my arms.

It’s no longer that easy.

I’m trapped in position, because I’m now under the intersection of the weighted blanket that Real Man sleeps under and the two that I sleep under, meaning I am trapped under 45 pounds of blanket. As I struggle to turn over, I make sounds reminiscent of a heavyweight lifting competition. Sometimes I just lay there and deal with the crick in my neck and the Charlie horse in my leg because I know I’ll probably hurt myself worse trying to escape.

Sometimes, I can’t breathe, and so then I decide to move, and I’m fairly sure that is the reason for the tendonitis in my left shoulder. Trying to escape the weight of the blankets so I can get comfortable and get back to sleep. Some nights, the position I find myself in means that I actually can’t lift the blankets and so I try to slide out and off of the side of the bed. When I eventually fall to the floor, I usually just sit there for a moment and then when I go to climb back up onto the bed, I’m now cold, and instead of saving myself from more torture in about an hour, I pull the blankets back and climb back under because I need to warm back up.

I’m a mess.

I should just start sleeping without the blankets. I know this.

But, at this point, I’ve damned myself with these blankets, because if I try to sleep without them, I feel like I’m going to float off the bed and I can’t fall asleep because I actually wake myself up with dreams of, not falling, but flying.

And, if we are honest, those 30 pounds of blankets are 100% keeping me safe from the Pennywise-looking demon that lurks under my bed, just waiting for a toe to escape the edges of the mattress.

So, I shall stay imprisoned…I mean snuggled and warm…in my steel cocoon for the remainder of the winter. And when summer comes, I’ll either have to learn how to sleep on the ceiling after I’ve floated away, or I’ll waste away to nothing from sweating off every pound my body has.

But at least I’ll be asleep.

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