11.15.10

Eep! It's been a while.

Raunt

Call me sexist, but male bikinis just don't work. I mean, there's tmi and then there's TMI and males wearing bikini bottoms (aka 'speedos') are the TMI that hurts. I'm currently in Miami, land of the equal opportunity bikini ... if ya'knowwhaddImean. I've see too much hair, too much volume, too many shapes, and too much cleavage (and I'm not talking on the top half of the bod, although there's all'dat and some), too much well, information, and it ain't pretty. Especially all lined up on the beach. Little soldiers, take your marks! But, IMHO, no, no, no, well proportioned body or not (but particularly not), bikinis need ta'say 'bi-bye' as far as male swimwear goes.

Rave

Hugs from a 3 year old. There's a simple vivaciousness illustrated by 3 year olds that isn't 'quite' there at 2 and is gone by 4. It's a freedom that seeps out from their heart and passes along through their arms into their hands ... like a high voltage line. If you're lucky enough to be loved by a 3 year old, get right in the way of receiving that "seepage" and see what I mean. From their heart and hands to your soul the energy flows. A current event of epic proportions! I love hugs from 3 year olds!

10.25.10

Rave

Intelligence. Oooo, I love intelligent people. Especially when they engage me in conversation. They challenge my thoughts, they make me aware of things I'd typically either ignore due to "not hearing correctly" or be too lazy to look up. They share history with me, they share meanings of Latin word derivations with me, they simply talk ... and I listen. And I don't listen to everyone! But intelligent people rock. And I'd just like to say I love that you talk to me. Thank you, Smarty Pantz!

Raunt

Airplane seat belts. I'm not goin' too far with this other than to say you suck when you should stick, you pinch when you should cinch, and you are ugly. Even your buckles are dull. I hate you airplane seat belts.

10.20.2010 (oh what a lovely symmetrical set of numbers)

Raunt

Car problems. Geez I hate it when I have car problems. Could be a smallie: oil change; could be a biggie: sliced open the oil pan (yup! done that). But whatever it is, it's a pain in the tooshie. My current issue is a sunroof that doesn't stay closed. It's decided to have a mind of it's own, and springs back open *just* as it's closed. Irritating as all get-out (no, I don't really know what that expression means). And to fix it? Well, I read the manual and did what *they* say, but that didn't fix it. I Googled the issue, that helped with suggestions, but none of them worked. I made an appointment at the repair shop, but they were too busy. So now I wait for free time and no-drive time and loose a day or two of car-convenience to spend, no doubt, $200+ to get it fixed. Oooooo, I hate car problems!

Rave

Nephews who so very kindly point out that you are, in fact, wrong or well, mistaken. Oh yeah, it happens to every aunt. WE ARE WRONG. Granted, it rarely happens. But it just happened to me with an attitude I had about Twitter. I felt like it would be annoying and completely unhelpful in my work to be on Twitter. I monitor Facebook, I monitor a Blog. I have coworkers who not only could care less about either, but get a little angry that I spend any time on them at all (even though, HELLO!, I'm a marketing person!). So thinking about Twitter made me a-skitter. Had I ever really read about Twitter? No. Had I ever really seen a tweet? No. My ignorance was not bliss, and a nephew very calmly explained why it may behoove me to change-up on my Twitter-Ttude. He explained how it worked, and then (cue music) explained how it would help my business and help us establish a reputation for being 'on the cutting edge' of staying in touch. 

I was being rude. I was being stubborn. I WAS WRONG. Ooo, I now love my new TwitterTtude!

10.17.10

Raunt

People who speed up when you put on your blinker to change lanes. What IS that all about? Get a life people! Cars change lanes. It's a fact of life. Did you know that life changes lanes on you, too, sometimes? Yeah, it does. Deal with it. There will always be reasons to be polite and yield. Use traffic as a life metaphor for pete's sake: be nice, you'll live longer!

Rave

Car conversations. What is it about having a conversation in a car? Maybe it's the lack of eye contact, maybe it's the noise of the wind, maybe it's the spirit of ongoing movement. Whatever it is, it's amazing how you can have really great conversations with your passengers while driving. You can have THE talk and well, it's just easier. You can have a tender talk, and then they can't see'ya cry, or you can simply have an animated talk and use the steering wheel as a sounding board. Whatever you do, it's just a good way to exclaim . . . without being overwhelmed. Love those car conversations!

10.7.2010

Raunt

Messy restaurant restrooms. Eeuuww! Messy bathrooms period are a drag, and by messy, I don't mean the occasional cat-torn-toilet-paper-on-the-floor messy. I mean the "oh boy, whazz'at on the floor" kinda messy. But when you're in a restaurant, and you need to use the loo, and loo seems to be screaming "boo!" well, that's just scary. Today I went to a lovely new spot for lunch, quite chic, quite urban, and moderately expensive, but the bathrooom was frightening ... right down to the torn-off-real-lock-substituted-with-a-hook-n-latch-lock. Really? Add that to the super bad water pressure that made the go-go a no-go and well, let's just say that I was thrilled to have the experience after the meal or it woulda been an appetite killer. Hate messy restrooms!

Rave

People who can keep the conversation moving. At the same surprise lunch today, friends and I were were laughing and talking and talking and sighing and sighing and exclaiming and exclaiming and eating and eating and planning and planning to eat more :) Phew! All good, every minute, every bite, every word. What a joy to be out to lunch and find that you all have so much to say, you hardly get much said at all because you're trying to squeeze 15 conversations into each 15 minutes! It was a blast, and I so appreciated being with people who kept the talk buzzin'. Love conversation movers!

10.6.2010

Raunt

Using the word 'troops' while reporting. I don't get it. I wake up to the news often and the reporters are always talking about 'troops' dying. Then they go on to say that 6 troops died in a roadside attack. When I think of troops, I think of multitudes. Like an army. Fairly vague, lotta peeps, lotta uniforms, no real faces. But apparently *they* (you know, the big, invisible *they*) must think that we can't hear war personalized down to an individual and their name, thus they do not say the truth like "6 soldiers, Joe Smith from Ham Lake, Jack Smith, Bob Smith, Bill Smith from St. Paul, and Charlie Smith, Derrick Smith from Minneapolis died." It's harder to hear that personalized truth, but it is the truth. And truth about war is ugly. In my opinion, soldiers and the civilians who die deserve to be named. And we deserve the hurt while hearing those names since we're the ones who put them in harms way in the first place with our decision to go to war. It's ugly. You can't hide from the truth.

Rave

Geraniums. Geraniums were, I think, one of my mom's favorite flowers. She liked to paint them, I know that. I have a few around my house, and I'm in awe at their tenacity to just keep growing. Sun-in, sun-out. Hot-in, cold-out. They just keep growing. Those little cluster of petals create lacelike shadows in my dining room, too. Pretty, colorful, lacey. What a flower to rave about! Love geraniums!

9.30.10

Raunt

Elevator button placement. I mean the 'call this elevator' button. Why can you only push the elevator button when you get right TO the elevator? Why can't you push it immediately upon leaving a room down the long hall before you get to the elevator? Wouldn't that be nifty? Then, when you get to the elevator, it would be there—like magic! Love magic, hate last minute buttons!

Rave

SBD's. Because they make you laugh. Coming from a puppy or a person, when an SBD enters the territory, you just have to smile. Love that!

9.29.10

Raunt

Passwords. Oh man, I hate that technology has introduced a new way to have "senior moments" all day long by requiring passwords. Passwords to log-on, passwords to remind, passwords to reset a password, passwords for email, passwords for blogs! I try to use the same password often, but 'cha can't because there are password rules. Today I used a service that had a password checklist! Yup, a checklist: letters, numbers, a punctuation mark, etc. The checklist told me when to stop. It was too much. I hate being instructed on how to make up a password!

Rave

Hot water bottles. Yeah, they're old fashioned. Yeah, when they cool off if your feet hit'em in the middle of the night it's stinks, but ooo, when you are crawling into bed and you have a 2'x2' square of warm sheet(s) due to a toasty hot water bottle warm-up, it's a lil'slice o'heaven. Or what I hope heaven will be. I love hot water bottles!

9.28.10

Raunt
Batteries. Batteries drive me nutz. You either have too many double D's in your drawer and not enough AAA's or you have a drawer full various sizes, but a bunch of them are dead because the bag you typically put them in for hazardous waste broke and so they're ramblin' all over the place. They run out of battery juice (a term which also drives me nutz) just when you need them most: a fun night out with your nieces! or they're not *quite* dead so they fake you out and just make your 'action toy' stall out. I hate batteries.


Rave
Bite size brownies. Mmmm, delish! That's what I have to say about a lil'bite'l'do'ya brownies. Sometimes they come plain, sometimes they have some crazy good ganache frosting on them, sometimes they have a little cherry on top. All good, all the time, and no feeling bad about bites. I love bite size brownies!

9.27.10

Raunt
Bugs.
Bugs are bad. They make me mad. They creep and crawl all over.
Up my sleeve! Down my shirt! Oh mr. bug you're such a flirt.
I scratch, I slap, I stomp, I wave. I want them all in tiny graves.
When snow comes flying, and oh it will, 
I hope you bugs become landfill.


Rave
People who enjoy their jobs. I love it when I deal with someone who loves their job. It's so obvious. They are genuine. A conversation can be serious and professional (yes, that is out of stock, my apologies, but perhaps this would work instead), or lighthearted and empathetic (sorry! that drives me crazy, too; hope it doesn't happen again). They don't say too much (oh yeah, my daughter needs this shampoo, too, or her hair looks like hell), or too little (nope! don't have it). They are "just right". Thank you people who enjoy your jobs!

9.23.10

Raunt
When gasoline prices change within the day. Honestly, just how stupid do petroleum and other gasoline related executives think we are? This morning on my way to work, gasoline was $1.65 (yeah, it's purty cheap here in NE Minnie). On the way home, it was $1.73. Just what did a little elf mix in with the gasoline that it suddenly, in the holding tank, became a lucky serum? It makes me so mad, I hesitate to even raunt about it. Raunting, even in its most powerful form, isn't enough. I know there's nothing I can do, I know I just have to keep putting a maximum of $5. in my tank at a time so that I can take advantage of the 'low' minutes in the cycle. But oooo, oooo, oooo! I hate that.


Rave
Postage stamps. Mundane, perhaps. Irritating in the way they become less and less valuable, sure. But geez, where else for under fitty'cent can you get a little art wonder that self-adheres? They're powerful, zipping mail over hill and over dale. They're cute (sometimes) with their artwork of rescue animals, etched first ladies, or lil'love knots. They're thematic! Just the perfect accessory for that 'special' note. I love them. 

9.22.10

Raunt
Swearing at work. So not okay. So guilty of doing it once or twice (but only "s" words ... not others). Yipes! Working around outbursts is super sucky and sticky in terms of work situations. You feel 'bad' for not calling a colleague on it, but you feel 'bad' for acting like a correctional officer, too. No good way out. Hate that!


Rave
Double digits. There's something mesmerizing about double digits: waking up at 10:10, or 11:11, going to bed at 11:11 or 12:12. It's all good. A niece of mine said it meant good luck. I know for a fact that if I have crazy numerology working with me for a few days, a change is going to come (i.e. waking up at 6:54 or 5:55 (hey! it happens)). So, let's just think positively and be looking forward to 10.10.10  at 10:10 a.m. or 10:10 p.m. WooHoo! Love that!

9.21.10

Raunt
People that say, most likely with empathy as I do believe most people are tender, "time will heal". In my opinion, time doesn't do anything other than simply go by. I like time, I really do, and I don't want it to do anything other that it's supposed to do: clock in and clock out. When something hard/bad/hurtful/painful happens to someone you care about, may I suggest simply saying "I'm sorry this has happened to you. I'm here if you'd like to have someone to listen." I don't 'hate' the time statement, but sometimes it drives me crazy. And, I stand by my perception that time heals nothin'. It just gives you distance which can make an event less clear. But did the event still happen? Oh yeah.


Rave
Just a note on coincidences which I raved about the other day. As I was preparing an email to send to my aunt Mitzi (a fabulous set of nails manicured to a "Royal Flush"), she called me. Yup! right out of the 'blue' . . . right that minute. Loved that.


Another 'rave' = mail order catalogs. Yeah, I get tooooooo many of them, too, and they do make the recycling bag heavy. But honestly, is there anything better than looking at all those pretty pictures and getting ideas up the yinyang? I've stopped tearing out the pages for my 'wish list' file (who was I kidding?) but ooo, flipping pages is so much more fun than flipping on the television. Love that!

9.17.10

Raunt

Fashions that instill fear. I just figured this out during a conversation yesterday. The guy-fashion where waistlines are down below or at the bun-level? Well, it's not that I don't like it, it's that it s c a r e s me. Seeing guy after guy walking around "on the verge" of a) getting a snuggy-prank played on him, or b) dropping drawers and tripping while crossing a street, or c) letting the world know that no bleach has ever touched his tidy-whities ... well, it's just too much to bear. I have FEAR. And I hate that.

Rave

Coincidences. Like when you're thinking about someone, and then they call you. Or you really need french fries and you see that there's a McD's up ahead. Or you're planning on buying Puff's Plus (with Aloe) because you have a really, really sore nose (and toilet paper now hurts) and you see that Walgreen's has a special on Puff's and there's a coupon in the paper, too. BINGO! A co-coincidence! Love that. So I was particularly pleased when a nephew of mine, who shall remain nameless (kinda), recognized on an overseas flight that, coincidentally, the seat letters above him on the luggage rack matched his initials perfectly. Yup! JHG. Just sittin' there. Flying around the world, and coincidentally, sitting in his very, own monogrammed row. Love that!

9.16.10

Raunt

The building has all the requisites of a great aunt. She is neither very pretty nor elegant, but she has enduring qualities of character.

- Richard Oulahan, Writer

Rave

Sólo una tía puede dar abrazos como una madre, guardar secretos como una hermana, y compartir el amor como un amigo.


Only an Aunt can give hugs like a mother, keep secrets like a sister, and share love like a friend.
- Spanish Proverb

9.15.10

Raunt

Feel-like-a-criminal email warnings. We get them on occasion from business partners who are, I'm assuming, under strict orders-from-above to protect company interests. Even more annoyingly, we receive them completely in no-fault mode via "forward" or >>>forward. But honestly, when I read this scary message, I just want to run to the nearest courthouse and turn myself in before the baddies come calling! I'm wondering if anyone actually 'notifies the sender'? Not me, 'cause then "they'd" know that I know a no-no. No way! Hate these.

This communication, including attachments, is for the exclusive use of addressee and may contain proprietary, confidential and/or privileged information. If you are not the intended recipient, any use, copying, disclosure, dissemination or distribution is strictly prohibited. If you are not the intended recipient, please notify the sender immediately by return e-mail, delete this communication and destroy all copies.

Rave

Karaoke cars. I just so love it when I'm driving, do the "mirror, blinker, blind" before merging, and notice that my car-neighbor is having an all out karaoke contest with their sweet'selves. Kind of a cross between television, working out, and neighborhood bar entertainment. Look! Listen! Feel the vibes! Rock on, people. Rock on. Love you! Just keep one hand on the wheel, please, during air guitar or Phil Collins drumming segments.

Oh, you know who you are!

09.14.10

Raunt
Pooper Snoopers. I have a dog, I walk my dog, my dog poops, I pick it up. I do not watch while my dog poops. (As far as I know, my dog doesn’t watch me during calls of nature, either.) Driving home tonight, I counted how many humans were watching their canines do-the-doo-doo, because it was something to do while waiting for stop lights to turn green. Out of 17 dogs being walked, 8 were—ya’know—and 7 of those 8 had pooper snoopers. Humans! Do you seriously have nothing better to do than snoop while your canine poops? Privacy, please!

Rave
Cashiers who don’t use the ‘auto’ function to determine how much change ya’get back. There’s just something that’s darn fun about being able to see if both of you are ‘right!’ during a cash transaction. Today, I made a $25.38 purchase and gave the cashier $26.03. Not on purpose, really, I just had the three cents and wanted to move it on out, so I thought (quickly), “Hey! If I give her 3 cents she can give me back a nickel.” Yeah, kind of pathetic, but also kind of cool when she promptly returned, with no help from the cash register, two quarters, one dime and ONE NICKEL. No pennies back. Whee! Free to be, penny free! Oh, and yeah, the point, apparently we both passed our second grade change assignment. Click here to learn more about pennies!

9.13.10

Raunt
Shrinky-dink shirts. What is with shirts: t-shirts, knit tops, blouses, etc. shrinking in length disproportionately to width? It's 2010, clothing designers. Wake up and change the cotton! For the love (as a niece sez), I need, and typically purchase, tops in the 24"-26" length (shoulder seam to hem). Over not-quite-a-year, they do the shrinky-dink to somewhere between 21"-23" long. Those few inches are vital to me, and to a lot of women (and men) I know. 3-6" of tummy area typically can't forgo adequate coverage. And g*d forbid you get 'the draft' affect ... feeling cool breezes in your belly button where no breezes have gone before (or well, it's been a while). Bad shirts. Bad. Hate shrinky-dink shirts! 


Rave
Teachers who assign self-portrait collages. While at a family gathering, I had the good luck to stumble upon a nephew's self-portrait collage that was drying in a very logical, but harrowing, place: the upstairs hallway (in the breeze of the bathroom's open window so it would dry faster). No damages to report from my feet so he won't have to use the ever-so-cheesy excuse, "My aunt stepped on my homework." tomorrow. You think you know a kid, and then you see, in fabulous advertising type, the word PANCAKE about 3 inches tall and you realize, "gee, I thought this was a cereal kid." Then, you see a big can of dog food, no fewer than four baseball players, and a bottle of Purex. You also realize that, wow! he's an animal lover (knew), baseball fanatic (knew), and he has parent-sympathy for having to do so much laundry (didn't know). RAVE! you learn from this collage and thus have a new-something to ask about the next time you see him so you're not relegated to the #1 most boring question: 'so, how's school going?'. Love that!

9.12.10

Raunt

Mosquitoes. Seriously. In my house. From my pets? From holes in the screens? From the grim reaper? I dunno, but this year has been a killer (no pun intended) for them. At this count, I can *see* 17 bites on me. Being a "svingle" [savvy single ... LOL], there may be others I can't see due to unviewable thus unmentionable locations. Anyhow, hate'em. Regardless of the fact they feed birds and bats.

Rave

Dishwashers. LUV! Woke up this a.m. and, in my glam-jams, simply unloaded wine glasses, plates, silverware, and serving dishes (for 8) that served dinner party fare last night. Approximately 4 minutes and voila! all clean again. Doing my glam-jam research [you know, hard work i-net surfing], I found out that the dishwasher was invented by Josephine Cochran. Love her!