Wednesday, April 30, 2014


I'm horrible with names. Most times when I'm introduced to someone I have forgotten their name by the time our conversation is finished.

However, I'm able to retain details about other aspects in my life, such as what day of the week it was when I 'became a woman' (Wednesday), and the outfit I wore to get my driver's license (pink t-shirt, grey and pink striped skirt and pink ballet slippers, courtesy of The Gap).

Back to names.

If I've met you once, chances are I have no idea what your name is. And I won't pretend to know, either. (Honestly, I'll probably try and avoid contact with you, if we're being totally real here.)

This morning, in the locker room at the gym, I was packing up my bags when this woman walked in. She introduced herself (and asked my name) about 8 months ago, and ever since then when our paths cross we either wave or make small talk while we're getting ready (one of my most favorite things to do: chit chat with strangers while half-naked in the comfort of the gym. insert sarcasm here.)

And if you've been paying attention to this post, you know that I have NO IDEA what her name is.

Today's conversation went like this:

HER: "Good morning, Shannon!"

ME: (looking around for Shannon, seeing we were the only people in the locker room, and realizing that she has remembered my name as Shannon.)

ME: "Good morning…" (the last word was probably muffled by me trying to grab my bags and hi-tail it outta there before any more uncomfortableness ensued.

HER: "How about that rain? You going to work today, Shannon? You never dress in sneakers for work!"

So not only is she calling me by the wrong name, she's calling me out for dressing comfy on a rainy day?

ME: "Yep. Headed to work. Gotta go! See ya!"

So…was I supposed to correct her on my name? Now that I didn't, when it happens again, do I correct her then and have her wonder how long she's been calling me by the wrong name?"

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Actual conversation with my grandmother.

My grandmother is a 93-year old sassy pants.

She has lived alone for 32 years, ever since my grandfather passed away. She's super social, and loves going out (she's just a few decades late for the Facebook craze).

I called her today to invite her over on Saturday.

ME: "Hi Gram! I was calling to see if you wanted to come over on Saturday to eat."

GRAM: "Oh? What's the occasion?"

ME: "It's the Kentucky Derby!" 
Mind you, I'm not sure my grandmother even knows what the Kentucky Derby is.

GRAM: "There's no other reason?"

Apparently Gram thinks we have an ulterior motive.

ME: "We're going to watch the Kentucky Derby and then eat. You know, the horse race?"

GRAM: "Oh. How long is it?"

What, does Gram have a date?

ME: "It's like two minutes."

GRAM: (laughs a little) "Really?"

ME: "No, seriously. It's two minutes long. Then it's over."

GRAM: "Okay then. I wouldn't come if it was a long drawn out thing..."

This is my 40.

Two weeks ago, I turned 40.

The big 4-0.
35 +5.
A new decade.

It didn't bother me at all. Which is probably because I love birthdays so much. (Well, I love MY birthday, not birthdays in general. Except maybe Rob's, since I make such a big deal about it. But my birthday? LOVE my birthday.)

So I was so pre-occupied with Birthday Spectacular Weekend (BSW for short), people's incredulous faces when I told them I was turning 40, and telling myself that I was still 29, that I didn't have time to even think about it.

Funny thing about age, though. While you may feel and possibly look younger than you truly are, your body is pretty damn accurate with its calculations.

And my body isn't quiet with its assessments.

So I listened to what my body was saying.

And this is my 40:

Reading glasses.

Because while I may be dressed like I'm 32, with 34-year-old-looking hair and a 38-year-old husband, when we're sitting in a restaurant, I'm trying to keep a shred of dignity holding a menu at arm's length like I'm 80.

(When did they start using such small and illegible fonts on menus?)

But I embraced my near-blindness and the idea of reading glasses because, hey, something new to shop for! I set off to find the lowest possible magnification for reading glasses (.75) without much luck. But I found those beauties above in +1.00 and I'm quite happy. In fact, this old lady doesn't look half bad in glasses.

Now, if I could only remember to use them, I'll be all set.

(But they don't fit well in my little going-out clutches, so...)

Thursday, April 24, 2014

is this thing on?


I've been saying for a million years that I wanted to write a novel.

And while this is by no means a novel, it's words on (electronic) paper, so I'm considering it a start.

What will you find here?

Oh, a smattering of things. Anything from pictures of Vito the Wonder Dog, to ridiculous antics from my (semi-crazy) life, to thoughts on how if people could stop being assholes this world just might be a better place.

But before we go further into this relationship, I feel you need to know a few things:

1. I can multi-task like no one's business 
(My husband marvels at how I can hold a conversation with him, be emailing and IMing at the same time, while there's a pot of soup on the stove and a load of laundry in the wash.)

2. Fries + blue cheese dressing = OMG 
(that is all)

3. Chances are, I am correcting your grammar/language/spelling
(sorry...occupational hazard)

4. I get hangry
(we can avoid this with #2 above)

5. I'm a morning person
(chipper at 5am, that's me!)

And now that the awkwardness of first post syndrome is over, we can really get down to business.