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.

Name My Neurosis

"What people are ashamed of usually makes a good story."  

 - F. Scott Fitzgerald -

If that quote holds true, then have I got a story for you.  One of my many neurosis is obsessing with the reflection of objects in magazine ads, photos, etc.  Rather than just looking at the photo, my eyes go directly to the reflective surface in hopes to find a photographer along side his crew in a tidy studio looking back at me.  Of course, with all of the shiny, pretty things, this season is a particularly difficult time of year for me. 

Now this problem is not only limited to what I've just described, but it also includes an annoyance that sets in whenever I watch television.  I'd like to take a moment to personally thank my Dad for pointing out that actors never take an actual bite of that burger or sandwich and the coffee cups they hold & pretend to sip from are always empty and visibly weightless.  I take note of these things every time I see it happen.

What a beautifully clean ladle.

Side note:  My disease cannot be named Roachaplakia as that was deemed in my 7th grade science class as the "inability to write cursive and restricted to printing only in capital letters," much to the dismay of Mr. Holbrook, as this caused a handicap in the speed of tedious note-taking.

This Charming Little Man

Life with a 4 year old preschooler is, well, non-stop.  It begins in the wee hours of the mornin’ (that’s how he says it) with the scurrying of little feet coming down the hall (a foreboding to the cat that he is about to be inadvertently pounced upon if he doesn’t move quickly) and the announcement that the day has arrived and Tyler is ready to own it.  This energy continues throughout the entire day, accompanied by endless curiosity, questions and parental refereeing. 

Despite the constant minor destructive path he leaves behind, I love how he listens to all kinds of music and is seemingly driven by instinct to get up and dance and/or sing along. He’s just as happy in the kitchen baking delicious confections as he is admonishing the Joker in his best Batman voice while building a Batcave out of blankets.

Who will dance...on the floor...in a round?

As if I needed one more reason to love my little Tyler, I happily added another to the list this morning.  We arrived at pre-school and after he got out of the car he met up with another little classmate.

“Hi Leah, (without even a slight pause) you look beautiful.”

I sat there and watched them as they skipped their way up to the front door, proud as ever.

Back On Track

I’ve said it before, but I love little ironies in life.  A friend of mine will send me a message when she’s discovered a great new video clip, book, or music.  A few weeks ago she encouraged me to check out the song “My Body” by Young the Giant.  That same day I received the news from a different friend that his doctor was 99% sure he had lymphoma, biopsy pending.  He’s a young (much younger than me) ambitious little $&@!, who went head first into law enforcement as a career the moment he was legally able without violating child labor laws.  While waiting for his scheduled biopsy he asked me all the same questions that I once had, mentally preparing for the unfavorable diagnosis and the possibility of chemotherapy.  I knew that no matter what the outcome would be, he was going to be fine.  Aside from youth being an advantage, there is no way he would not fight an ailment with all his might.  Waiting for the biopsy to happen is an agonizing time, a time of not knowing what is going on inside you and what will happen next.  After what seemed like months, the day of his biopsy arrived and his surgeon removed a mediastinal lymph node from his chest and explained that it had many indications that it was not lymphoma.  The biopsy results were negative, and he was instead diagnosed with Sarcoidosis, something that he’ll live with the rest of his life, receiving treatment only if symptoms require it.  Finally, take a deep breath, close your eyes and rest, and when you wake up you can carry on.

Last week I learned that my neighbor who has been fighting cancer for several months has taken a turn for the worse.  He has tumors throughout his body, growing at a rapid pace.  He’s an older gentleman and over the years he’s kindly offered me gardening advice.  During my chemotherapy, his wife knocked at my door one day and greeted me with a dozen jars of their homemade grape juice.  Side note:  Apparently grapes are little mold-spore factories and I was told by my nurse that given the compromised state of my immunities unless I was going to peel each individual grape I should avoid them.  Naturally, being told not to have something made me crave it even more. When everything tasted like chemicals and the food I once enjoyed seemed ruined, this was absolute nectar and I’ve always been grateful to them for their caring gesture.  Back to my neighbor, he has made the decision to continue in a dignified and graceful route by way of hospice care.  I can’t begin to imagine the strength it took to make the most difficult decision of his life, for his life.  At the same time, what an amazing moment that must be, to be at peace with your own soul and knowing that when you go on to the next world you're going to be just fine.

Each time you act in spite of your fear, you discover even greater, deeper courage.

-Art Berg-

I don’t have a good segue to the rest of this post, it’s more or less just a few pictures of a recent outing with the offspring. 

Union Pacific Railroad Steam Locomotive No. 844

Photo taken by my dad around 1979

Challenger No. 3985  Pages Lane crossing 1982

I always remember my Grandpa wearing his Engineer cap.  This is the only photo I could find of him in it.

That smile goes from ear to ear.

 

Black Friday

Nope, I'm not talking about the unofficial holiday commissioned by the NAACP.  I try not to post rants on the bloggity-blog, but Black Friday can kiss my white a$$.  That sounds a little bit like an Eddie Murphy line read by a dyslexic, but that’s truly how I feel towards the whole concept.  If I haven't offended you by now, by all means keep reading.

The thought of rushing into a grossly over-crowded store to save a few trivial dollars on crap no one really needs is beyond my comprehension.  What’s more baffling is that Black Friday is slowly becoming Black Thursday.  Having noticed that a few major retailers were open on Thanksgiving, I’m thoroughly disgusted.

Thursday, named after Thor – God of thunder & lightening (Yes! Score one for the Viking brethren), is not in and of itself held sacred by any major religious group that I’m aware of.  What disturbs me is that for 1 out of 2 days of the year (even Christmas will be subject to this trend before long) our society can’t adjust their priorities, priorities that are driven by nothing more than sheer greed by both consumers and retailers.  It forces the majority of employees to leave their families & friends or just their own peaceful evening because of their employer’s selfishness.  Years ago I worked at the Market Street Broiler and every Labor Day, the group that owned that restaurant and several others closed every single one and held a picnic at a nearby amusement park for the employees and their families.  I respect a business that can close up shop for a day.   

 I’m curious if there is such a maniacal occurrence in any other country.  I can’t imagine hordes of people standing in ridiculously long lines to purchase something other than basic needs such as food, water or medicine.  Not here.  This is truly an embarrassment.  I cannot think of one thing I absolutely need to buy that couldn’t wait for one more day.  This is a perfect display of a materialistic generation teaching the next generation of brats to be just as piggish and greedy.

Now, Cyber Monday is a whole different concept that I can support.  First, it’s a day where most people are scheduled to work anyways.  Second, it leads to an important day for all you Financial Crime detectives…Happy Job Security Day or Identity Theft Tuesday.

At a Loss For Words

I have a perfectly good reason(s) why I’ve neglected the blog lately.  I've had a few busy weeks and well….this came along.

Location:  Gateway Mall Apple Store  Photo taken, ironically, on an iPhone.

 Pop Quiz

This photo is best described as:

a) a moment for a great loss in my(i) life

b) my stifling uncontrolled laughter upon reading the ridiculous notes/sentiments/confessions

c) my stifling uncontrolled laughter after I scared the beejeebees out of a few unsuspecting people passing by when I looked up, raised my clenched fists to the sky and yelled/asked, "Why?!  Why him?  It should have been me first!"

 ok...now I know some of you are in agreement with the statement in option "c." Bygones?

d) all of the above minus option "a"

And people think Mormons are a cult.