Author Archive
Wising up
My dog just ate $15. Corde' is a 7-year-old Schnoodle (half Schnauzer, half Poodle), so she is well past the puppy chewing stage. However, for some reason, she feels the compulsion to eat her bedding. She has chewed through sheepskin pads, old baby comforters, and most recently an old bathroom rug. When that rug was in service as a bath mat she ignored it. But the moment it was put in her kennel for bedding she started in on it.
In a weak moment I bought her a new comfy dog bed thinking that she was expressing her disdain for hand-me-downs and wanted to be treated like the princess she thinks she is. The new bed hadn't left my hands before she had sunk her teeth into it.
Is that her way to mark it as her own? Does she prefer sleeping in the scent of her own slobber (she may have something there. I kind of like the smell of my slobber, too!)?
Whatever the reason, I won't be suckered into buying her a bed from the Pet Store ever again. There will be no orthopedic, memory-foam, extra-thick, plush, deluxe bed for this old dog. Just a supply of very old used bath towels. I'm stocking up already.
The Fast Lane — Every Time
I'm at the grocery store and I'm ready to get in line. I have a choice of two checkout lines:
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in the first one, there's a younger person with about 6 items in her cart. The cashier is male.
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in the second one, there's a person closer to my own age with about 40 items in her cart. The cashier is female.
Which one do I pick? The second one–hands down. "Why?" do you ask. I have a rule: never go to a male cashier unless there's no other choice.
Men make terrible cashiers. First, they are unable to multitask. They're just not wired for it. So for them to take an item, scan it, bag it or set it somewhere for the bagger, deal with a coupon, look up and input the produce code. It's simply too much for them. By the time that person with 40 items is pulling out of the parking lot, he'll still be wrapping up the sale for the person with 6 items.
Test me on this. You'll see I'm right.
Which side is the salad knife?
This week I attended a banquet dinner and was discretely (so I thought) trying to figure out which was my water glass. I did not want to slurp from my neighbor's glass. Someone at the table noticed and told me a helpful hint for such situations:
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Drink (which has 5 letters) is on the Right (which also has 5 letters)
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Bread Plate = Food (which has 4 letters) is on the Left (which also has 4 letters)
We didn't get into the coffee cup. It had better be on the Right. Drink, Slurp, Spill all have 5 letters. I can't think of any 4-letter coffee words if it's otherwise. Somebody help me out on this……..
Where Have I Been?
One thing I had not mentioned is that I'm a CPA. Some of the first words my toddlers spoke was "tax season." Once the kids came along I really slowed down on my workload, but it was still a big deal in my house. I would work hard between 2/1 and 4/15 and make promises for the fun things we would do "after tax season." And we did. Each child got to have a special day with Mom where I'd take him or her out of school for the day and we would do whatever he/she wanted. Sometimes I wonder if I gave them the right message. "Let's play hooky!" But they both still have some good memories from those days.
They also had their moments of revenge. Like coming down with chicken pox in March. Have you ever tried to get a babysitter for a kid with chicken pox? One year my lovely daughter got head lice in her waist-length blond hair. In the first week of April. I might as well have had a quarantine sign on my front door.
The moral of the story is "no, ladies. You cannot do it all." If you try to, your children will develop abnormal behaviors. Like know the depreciation life and method for business vehicles. Or think that everyone's Dad cooks the family dinner (thank you, Gary).
So that's where I've been. Knee deep in W-2s, 1099s and depreciating business vehicles. And trying to get my kids to take Mom on a special day after tax season.
When to Leave the Nest
It's official. Congress has mandated the age when one's child must leave the nest. They passed the health care legislation that mandates that children may stay on their parents' health insurance until the age of….26!!!!!!
I don't know about you, but I don't want my 26-year-old living in my basement, eating my chocolate-chip cookie stash, tying up my washing machine, burning my gas. And I don't want him or her to be on my health care plan where I am paying their premiums, tracking the paperwork, or (heaven forbid!) keeping track of their appointments.
Why is our generation so willing to support our kids past the age of 18 even if they're not in school? Why are so many parents willing to let their adult kids, spouses, and, sometimes, kids, move in? Why are the kids so willing to move back in? Back in my day, that was the sign of the ultimate failure. It was the LAST resort, not a "free" resort!!
Update: Sorry about that rant. I guess I got a little shrill. Might be because we just finished Spring Break at our house. And I'm still bitter about my chocolate chip cookie stash.
I love my kids and want to see them succeed. To that end we help (often even when it hurts) to help them get the education and tools they need to get started. But after that…. uh, uh. And Age 26! Perish the thought!
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