Doggone, Grandma

When I moved to “Hysteria Lane”, I thought the neighborhood was going to be a peaceful one, anything had to be better than where I used to live. Loud music, police sirens, rowdy kids and barking dogs.

My previous neighbor had a dog that stayed outside everyday, sometimes even in the rain and it barked constantly. Several people complained about the dog to each other, but not to the owner. To do so was more of a dare than a “neighborly request.”

During one of my sleepless nights, I decided to write a letter to my former neighbor pretending to be a young child and mail it to them. I’m not ambidextrous, but for pleas and threats, I write with my left hand. The wording is not exact, but it read something like the letter¹ to the right.

Eventually not only did the barking stop, but the dog was gone too. I saw my neighbor days later and asked about the dog, (like I really cared, I was happy in my serenity now like state). He said he let the dog go because he didn’t have time to take care of it. Uh, okay?

I don’t think that’s the case with my current neighbor who lives behind me. She has a new dog, but this dog doesn’t stay outside and bark nearly as long as the other one.

I was looking out the window, watching filming the barking dog and up pulls a black car and out rolls grandma from the back seat. She’s happy to see her dog and his tail says he’s happy to see her too.

Darn, now what am I supposed to do! I can’t write granny a letter, what could I possibly say about her annoying barking dog.

“Keep FIDO quiet or you won’t be allowed into Bingo.”

“Your senior citizen discount is in jeopardy.”

“I’ll get you, my pretty and your little dog too.”

It wasn’t until I looked at the bench outside of her home that I realized that this is the same lady that used to walk around the neighborhood with her elderly husband, hand in hand. Gee, I haven’t seen him in a while and oh my word….that explains the dog. I’m thinking either that’s one heck of a make-up job or grandma knows how to keep the real witch quiet. I will leave this one alone.

EDIT:  I thought this story was interesting.

Dog photo by ohmyapt.apartmentratings.com

1. click to zoom [↩]

Is Your Subscriber Count Showing?

During one of my EC dropping sessions, I stumbled across a post that linked a website that allows you to ‘compare your feedburner subscriber numbers with others’.  Interesting!

I assumed if that information was not made public, it was for a reason.

When I started blogging I displayed my subscriber count¹ because that’s what I saw on other blogs. I watched it go from 4 to 7 and then back down to 4.

What happened was my first reaction.

As a newbie, it made me feel anxious and unsure of myself, watching the numbers fluctuate, as if somehow it dictated my existence and worth. Maybe it did at one time, numbers are performance indicators. Once I knew what I wanted on my blog, I removed my RSS readership count [and most badges] from my blog. Once in a while, I do check my subscriber count, but like my financial investments, I don’t want to see my portfolio every day.

Maybe displaying our readership is a gauge on how we’re doing as bloggers, maybe it’s a competition, maybe it encourages future subscribers, maybe it’s an ego thing, maybe it means nothing and we’re just darn happy and proud. Maybe I feel creeped out by what people can find out, maybe I’m just too chicken to publicly teeter on the emotional seesaw of “you suck” and “you the woman”.

Different strokes for different folks, but I’m curious…Is your RSS feed count showing?  If so why or why not?

Are you more likely to subscribe to a blog if their readership count is made public?

Photo of LL borrowed from www.mcm.net

1. now 26 [↩]

Traffic: Flaw in Design or Drivers?

It just so happened before I embarked on what should have been a 1.5 hour drive down the NJTP, that I received an email review from The New York Times of a book entitled Traffic.

Warning or Coincidence?

Let’s just say I sat on the Turnpike for so long, that twice I thought I was being followed until I realized that car behind me couldn’t get off the freeway either. ¹

I have my own theories on the ‘whys’ of traffic:

1. Merging
2. Failure to anticipate²

When I drive on the highway/freeway and I’m approaching merging traffic, if I’m in the slow lane,³ I move over to the middle lane to keep traffic moving. If I have to brake, so might the cars behind me.

Merging traffic is like double dutch, I drive in a way that allows people to jump in without stopping the flow. Same thing on the street. If I let one car turn left or right, even though I have the right of way, 10 cars can move on both sides again instead of holding up traffic.

I only got a blurb of the book, but Mr. Vanderbilt, the author of Traffic, says that traffic jams are not caused by flaws in road design, but by flaws in human nature. Rubber necking is caused by gawkers (people who slow down to look at accidents, dumped furniture or to dig out their cell phone to take a picture - “digi-necking”).

He also mentions in his book that because driving doesn’t command 100% of our attention, we feel comfortable multi-tasking: talking on the phone, eating, taking pictures and reading. The results? Accidents and traffic.

Okay, I admit, when I was sitting in first gear, I whipped out my camera. Maybe I learned to steer the wheel using my knees and it’s possible when traffic finally started moving, I glanced around for an explanation,⁴ but found none.

Who’s to blame? Road design or drivers? Here’s a video of Tom on the Today Show Video. I think my blog is about to crash.

1. Traffic births paranoia. [↩]
2. or care [↩]
3. which I usually am [↩]
4. bodies, ambulance, old couch [↩]

Are You Feeling Guilty Over Something?

Just out of curiosity, are you feeling guilty about something right now, if so, what is it?

You don’t have to confess your sins in the comment section.¹ I’m not referring to the guilt we might feel when we do something morally wrong, but just in every day life.

Here’s what I’m feeling guilty about right now:

• Spending too much time on the computer
• Not putting away the laundry and cleaning the fish tank
• Not doing a favor for someone when they asked

Bloggers. Do you feel guilty when you have not posted in days or you haven’t replied to your comments right away?

If you weren’t feeling guilty before you read this, are you feeling guilty now?

Parents. Do you feel guilty when you take “me” time instead of spending it with your kid(s). Do you feel guilty when you have to go to work or you miss the school play?

Spouses. Do you feel guilty if you spend more time with your online friends than you do with your spouse or does guilt make you feel responsible for their happiness?

You.  Do you feel guilty that you’re not working on your big project or a hobby?

Guilt is everywhere, but why do we feel it and what does it really accomplish? On her website over at SelfCreation.com, Jennifer listed four reasons on why she felt guilt:

1. To get herself to behave differently
2. She thought good people were supposed to feel guilty
3. To show others she was a good person

She said her most popular reason for guilt was to try to get herself to do something she thought she “should” be doing, or stop herself from doing something she didn’t think she “should” be doing.”

A lot of times we carry around imagined guilt, it’s only in our mind and serves no real purpose. Even now, I’m feeling guilty about this long post, but I want to share a personal experience before I go.

My daughter is not home this week and I probably won’t see her again until Friday and then she leaves for Maryland on Sunday. So I’m feeling guilty because we’re not together.

Yesterday I went out with some girlfriends and I got home earlier than I thought, so I said I would drive out to see my kid, read with her and get a hug, that I probably needed.

Well when I got to where she was, you would’ve thought I busted up her party. I didn’t get the reception I thought I deserved, it wasn’t a short drive either. ² It was then that I stopped feeling guilty about us being apart, obviously, she’s fine with it, why wasn’t I? My guilt didn’t make her any happier, it was self-serving, to make me feel better.

I gave her a kiss, said good night and left my guilt behind. I feel less stress and guilt now.  She called me this morning and said, “Hi Mom.” I said, “Who is this?” She didn’t get the joke, she answered me.³

Hey, the truth is not the only thing that will set you free!  Learn to let go.

Letting Go
To let go doesn’t mean to stop caring,
it means I can’t do it for someone else.
To let go is not to cut myself off,
it’s the realization that I can’t control another.
To let go is not to enable,
but to allow learning from natural consequences.
To let go is to admit powerlessness,
which means the outcome is not in my hands.
To let go is not to try to change or blame another,
I can only change myself.
To let go is not to care for,
but to care about.
To let go is not to fix,
but to be supportive.
To let go is not to judge,
but to allow another to be a human being.
To let go is not to be in the middle arranging all the outcomes,
but to allow others to effect their own outcomes.
To let go is not to be protective,
but to permit another to face reality.
To let go is not to deny,
but to accept.
To let go is not to nag, scold, or argue,
but to search out my own shortcomings and to correct them.
To let go is not to adjust everything to my desires,
but to take each day as it comes.
To let go is not to criticize and regulate anyone,
but to try to become what I dream I can be.
To let go is not to regret the past,
but to grow and live for the future.
To let go is to fear less and love more.

From “The Grace Awakening” by Chuck Swindoll

Photo by Zawaj.com

1. unless you want to [↩]
2. I thought I was super mom making that drive [↩]
3. I don’t think she’s mine, where’s her sense of humor? [↩]

Bye-Bye Birdie

I don’t know who or what I pissed off in the animal kingdom, but I’d like to make a public apology: I’m sorry. I like birds, really I do, but outside, where the sky is the limit, not my bedroom ceiling.

Last Thursday, I ran outside for a minute and when I returned to my bedroom to finish getting dressed for work, I heard a noise above my head that my brain translated to me as: Get the *&#@ out, now!

It’s only in the movies where people hear a bump in the night and try to find it. Not me, I go the other way. In the wild it might be called survival of the fittest, but in the ghetto, it’s call survival of the fastest. The fastest person out, lives.

In the wild it might be called survival of the fittest, but in the ghetto, it’s call survival of the fastest.

Diving on my belly, I hit the bed like it was an obstacle course and crawled under the sheet for protection. Curled up in a ball, I shook with terror, rocking back and forth while mumbling what the *&^% is that?”

I have to get out of here, on three!

As I ran to the door with the sheet over my head, sound waves bounced off objects sending back vital messages through human echolocation: Dresser. Chest of drawers. Edge of bed. Door frame.

At top speed, I made it out and shut the door behind me in one swoop. After I crossed the threshold to safety, I had to identify my attacker, so I cracked open the door and saw a bird sitting on the blade of the ceiling fan! A freaking bird! How did a bird get in my bedroom?

There’s no way I’m going back in that room, so I closed the door and paced the floor. I called my employer to let them know I would be late. Then I made what felt like a Damsel in Distress phone call to D.

Blah, blah, blah, there’s a bird in my bedroom!!!
A bird, how did a bird get in your bedroom?
I don’t know, side of the air conditioner I guess.
Silence.
So do you want me to come catch it?
Oh great! He reads between the lines, sarcasm and hysteria. Excellent!
“Uh, yes.”

While I waited, I did some research on birds and how to catch them. If I were superstitious, I’d be really messed up as to the meaning behind a bird in the house.

Half hour later the door bell rang, I opened the door like I kicked it in. I don’t remember touching the lock. I ushered D in, gave him a pair of gloves, a towel and asked if he was afraid. He said no, walked in the bedroom and took care of business.¹

I heard all kinds of noise coming from the bedroom for the first few minutes, then there was silence. I tip-toed to the bathroom and I heard more ruckus, things being knocked over and finally about 15 minutes later the bedroom door opened. I put the sheet over my head and hid in a corner. “Did you catch him?” I yelled. “Yes, do you want to see him?”

Awh, look how cute he looks, with big man hands wrapped around his little neck. When he was perched on my window frame, I could have sworn he looked more like this bird.

I whipped out my video camera again and filmed a little clip of the captured creature.

“You want to take his picture?”

Well I do blog, my material just doesn’t fall out of the sky! I know a potential blog post when I see one.

The little guy had a nervous stomach from being trapped and crapped in my room. I didn’t come out of this ordeal totally unscathed either. Every shadow on the wall looks like a bird, sudden noises make me jump. I enter the house like a ninja, scanning the floor for dead fish and checking every room for flying creatures before I can relax.

I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but if one more thing with an animal happens, I may need to move. I can see the ad now: Looking for a good home, have sheet, will travel.

Heros don’t always fight in wars, they catch birds too. When D left, it took every bit of strength I had not to sing Wind Beneath My Wings.

1. I ran out the back door. [↩]