T.G.I.F. (Thank God It's Filtered)

I often marvel at the mind's ability to filter thoughts before they become words. Take this morning for instance.

My office is at a tennis center, where little ladies play league tennis every morning. Often, as I'm walking from my car to the building, I'm forced to dodge the little ladies and their post-match picnic baskets and their ill-fitting tennis attire. You are not Maria Sharapova. Therefore, your attempt to wear a replica of her 2009 Wimbledon tennis dress falls short. Terribly, terribly short.

This morning as I'm taking said walk, I'm greeted cheerily by one such little tennis lady. The following summarizes our exchange:

Little Tennis Lady: "Good Morning!"
Me: "Good morning. Looks like a great day to play tennis."
Little Tennis Lady: "Yes, it is!"
Me: "I'm glad you're getting it in this morning. Sounds like it's going to get hot this afternoon."
Little Tennis Lady (her tone markedly more terse at the insinuation that she couldn't HANDLE tennis in the hot afternoon): "It's hot every day. I bet it's hard for you to come to work and see all of us going out to the courts to play tennis, huh."
What I said: "Sure is! Have fun."
What I thought: "Not if it means having to dress like that."

My filter might be my prized possession.

Pet Peeve Monday

What message are you trying to send when you use multiple question marks in an e-mail? Urgency? Drama? Legitimate fear or panic? I do not understand, but I do know that it really irritates me.

Case in point. Last week, I received the following e-mail from my contact at a radio station that we advertise with. She is a habitual multi-question-mark offender.

To: Elizabeth
From: Michelle*
Re: Lunch????

When are you available for lunch this week????
___

*names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.

Is it that you're really hungry? That you think you've asked me this question repeatedly with no response? That you urgently need to make a lunch date because you need an excuse to reject that guy who sits 3 cubicles down?

I am annoyed at you. You and your urgent lunch dates and your flagrant misuse of punctuation annoy me.

Does This Count?

Number 3 on THE LIST is "fly a kite." My attempt to do so was captured in a riveting :06-second video. One of my friends posted it on facebook. Hope you're able to view it.

If not, I'll let you guess how successful I was (hint: the video is only :06-seconds long). Highlights include my "woo-hoo!" at the :03 mark and the part a few seconds later when I almost tripped and broke my neck on a football.

I think I'll try again.

Ode to Spaghetti

A fancy restaurant with a table for two,
One look at the menu and I instantly knew.

The waitress arrived and I ordered a bowl,
Then said a brief prayer to save my soul.

Your noodles are like a confusing maze
I hate you, spaghetti bolognaise.

Sprinkle yourself with Parmesan cheese
And for a brief moment, I go weak in the knees.


But alas, my excitement is not to be
Because beneath the cheese, it’s sauce I see.

I tried to make peace and give you a try
But my nemesis you'll be until the day I die.

The smile I display in the photo below
Is my fake one, just so you know.

Pet Peeve Monday

Tomorrow, I will post a re-cap of my spaghetti outing. I'm still trying to digest the entire experience.

Sorry. I couldn't resist.

For now though, it's Monday. And you know what that means:

Is it just me, or does it drive you crazy when you're ordering at a restaurant and your wait-person doesn't write down your order? How pompous and overly-confident of them. I'd like a hamburger, cooked medium well, with American cheese, lettuce, tomato, no onion, and a side of french fries with ranch dressing. And you're not going to write that down? Instead, you're going to nod vacantly, mentally take the orders of the other 3 people at the table and trust fate that you're going to remember every intricate detail?

And even if my order comes back exactly as I'd hoped, I can't help feeling a little bitter that I spent the time span between order-placement and food-delivery nervously wringing my hands and hoping you remember the ranch. The ranch! For the love of dipping sauces! Remember the ranch!

Just play along. Please, wait-staff. Do me a favor and just play along. Pretend to write. Don't even write my order. Instead, doodle about how cute you think my shoes are. I'm easily fooled, and easily comforted.

Also, easily PEEVED.

Spaghetti "Oh's..."

I am nervous.

Tonight, I have plans to mark #1 off my list. Yes, that's correct. Tonight, I plan to order spaghetti at a fancy Italian restaurant. My disdain for spaghetti dates back to the early days of my childhood. I am not a picky eater, but spaghetti has always been a dish that, quite honestly, makes me shudder. I'm not fond of the taste or texture of it, but moreover, I'm never quite sure how to eat it. The long noodles, the watery sauce, the potential public humiliation that would ensue from messy spaghetti eating...

But tonight, I'm throwing caution to the wind, facing my demons, and tackling spaghetti. I googled "what is the proper way to eat spaghetti" and found this inspiring, educational, and enlightening video on YouTube:



Armed with this new-found "spaghettiquette", I face my challenge with optimism and vigor.

I might even wear white pants.

Pet Peeve Monday

You know how some people water down the last little bit of soap in the hand soap dispenser to get every last little bit of soap out of the bottle, so when you squirt it in your hands it's like 99% water and 1% soap and you can't for the life of you work up a lather suitable for washing your hands of the deadly bacteria? I really, really, really hate that. Like, really.

Spring has sprung

About an hour ago, while I was in the backyard hosing off the dinner dishes (long story...don't ask), I noticed that the magnolia tree in the backyard has started blooming!

I remember falling in love with the magnolia tree when I first looked at this house. And it's in bloom again! Which temporarily took my mind off the fact that I was in the backyard hosing off the dinner dishes. Again, long story. I beg you not to ask.

Pass the Purell

Precisely why I don't use hand rails in public.

Pet Peeve Monday

Dear Family Members (and by "family members", I mean MOM and DAD),
Is it too much to ask that you keep me abreast of medical situations within our own family? If ever you or someone else that I've spent a major holiday with is experiencing either general or local anesthesia, is it too much to ask that you give me a courtesy head's up? A phone call, e-mail, text message, smoke signal, courier pigeon...any of these would suffice. I strenuously object to learning about operations, procedures, removals, additions, or adjustments via e-mail from someone reporting from the WAITING ROOM...AFTER said operation, procedure, removal, addition, or adjustment is over, just letting me know that everything went well. Uhhhhh...what?

Further rubbing salt in the wound (pardon the pun) is logging on to Facebook, only to see that all of our other family members have updated their status' celebrating the successful outcome of the operation, procedure, removal, addition or adjustment. Allow me to repeat: Uhhhhh...what?

Comply with my demands, lest I be forced to move back into your house so I can stay fully informed.

Love,
Your ONLY DAUGHTER (who has, by the way, developed life skills that allow her to cope with potentially upsetting situations. Just in case there was any confusion there.)

p.s. Grandma, I'm really, really, really glad that your recent procedure went well. Hope you're feeling great!