Back To Your Roots

All media outlets seem to be reminiscing about the near 2 weeks of bliss that the 2002 Winter Olympics brought to Salt Lake City ten years ago, here’s my 2 favorite memories about them:

1. Ross the Intern
2. Switching highly-important security I.D. badges with a co-worker (we looked similar enough that it wasn’t blatantly obvious that we had done this) prior to entering the parking lot for our place of employment.  We did this just to see how keen the stellar security was at the Police Department, (where I spent all but four days of the entire fete) and we were just bored.  Mind you, the top notch security that was put in place meant closing off all but 2 or the 5 entrance/exits with a chain link fence and stationing a security guard (barely past the legal age to drive, yet too young to legally drink) in a plywood box at the accessible entrance.

My borderline favorite souvenir acquired by said Olympics:  A really sweet Marker jacket for free (free to me by means of zero monetary exchange, paid for with an undetermined amount of sanity & lack of sleep), distributed to all city employees.  Too bad is had insignia embroidered all over the back and sleeves, rendering it too ridiculous to wear in public by my prideful standards.

Least favorite thing about the Olympics:  Before the hours of mandatory overtime in which myself & fellow over-staffed dispatchers answered on average 2 calls per hour, it was the mandatory Diversity training that all city employees were required to attend.  This was no Michael Scott type of course, otherwise I wouldn’t have scanned the room, and desperately searched for a possible exit that was not being closely guarded by the brass (their presence was only to prevent anyone from escaping).  It was a joint suffering, the training, the overtime, and the…Oh wait, where are all the über flattering Roots berets everyone bought? 

Maybe it’s for the best they only reappear every 10 years, go ahead and tuck them away for another decade.

Sh*t Nobody Says

 

Along the same lines, enjoy this little clip.

Don't panic, this is completely "G" rated.

It's That Time of Year

This sign has been passed around in my family (cousins) and I’ve had it hanging on my front door for the past seven years.  Everyone who actually knows me is well aware that I absolutely do not have a baby sleeping in my house but I’ve kept it as a great solicitor repellent.  Most would walk up to the door, see this and turn around.

Since the little man is no longer a baby, I feel it is time to pass this along to the next expectant family member.  After seeing a similar sign, I knew I had found a replacement most appropriate for this house.

Tyler's birthday treat for his preschool.

Oddly enough, he had a similar expression when he was born.  That was right after he saw me, not his shadow.

Winter Wipeout

Aloha! From beautiful, warm Maui.  Ok, I’m not really in Maui, that’s where I wish I was for the next 2 months at least.  Oh I’m surrounded by water, but it’s frozen.  I love fog. I like rain. I detest the snow.

So for my family & friends in California, Hawaii, and even those in the 21758, have a look at what you’re missing:

Out With The Old

Week four into the new year.  How are your resolutions?  As for me, I don’t make them.  I’m a highly unmotivated person, not very goal-oriented, and I’d probably forget what it was I resolved to do within the first week.

If I were to claim any sort of resolution, it is to make a better effort to get rid of stuff I don’t need.  Really, must I keep all the spare buttons that came with each shirt I bought over the last decade or the lip gloss container that has long since been depleted but, by the love of gravity, that last little bit will make its way onto the applicator for one last shining moment on my colorless lips?  My Achilles heel is throwing out clothes.  Recently, I found in my closet a pair of Gap overalls I’ve had since high school!  I haven’t worn them for years, except maybe once while I was pregnant & working in the yard (I had a Buddha-belly that I didn’t want to get dirty). In all the times I’ve moved, I was astonished to think I had packed these atrocities of good fashion sense & took them with me.  What have I been thinking for the past seventeen years (yes, do the math now because it was socially acceptable for young adult women to wear overalls then), that someday they might look amazing again and I’ll be fortunate enough to have kept mine?

I found that I’m not the only one guilty of hoarding outdated/outworn clothing.  My cousin shared with the blogging world that she has held on to a pair of beloved boots for years upon years.  Sorry Kellie, but I have you beat on this one.  Along with the drapery of denim, I also have Teva’s that are about fifteen years old too.  However, I still wear these during the summer and I know full well that I should’ve parted with these long ago, yet I can’t bring myself to do it.  Why is it so difficult to let go of something, thread bare or otherwise, which we just don’t need? So as you sit there, reading this in your perfectly functional Esprit sweatshirt, take comfort in knowing that I’m off to find my Girbaud jeans.  I know I still have them somewhere.