Other People

Most times, I consider myself to be a nice person. Not as nice as, say... Alright. I'm having a real problem thinking of a good example here. I know a lot of people who are nicer than I am, but I was trying to think of a well-known example. What does that say for celebrities today? Ahh... I've got one now. Mr. Rogers. You can't get much nicer than that short of sainthood. So, I'm no Mr. Rogers, but I'm definitely much nicer than, oh, Paris Hilton? No, no... That's too easy. Just about ANYONE is nicer than Paris Hilton. I suppose I shouldn't make judgements because it's not like I know her personally, but with some people you really don't need to, you know? You just get that "feeling" about them one way or the other. Like, "Hey! That person looks like a really nice person. I wouldn't mind sitting next to them on a bus". Or the other way...

Anyway, I'm just your average girl/woman. I usually let people merge in front of me in traffic and I hold doors open for strangers at the store. Stuff any decent human being would do. So why is it that so many people seem to do things that are less than nice to me? Seriously. Is there a sign above my head that's only invisible to me? "Yeah, sure. Walk all over her. She'll take it." The other day, I was at Wal*Mart with Perrin, who was, of course, in his car seat in the seat of the shopping cart. After shopping, I go out to get into my car, which was parked one space up form the handicapped spaces ( for once we found a close spot ) near the door. The space between my car and the handicapped spaces was, at the moment, empty so I pulled the cart up next to my car in the empty space. As I started to unload the groceries into the front seat some guy in a new SUV pulls up and stops in the aisle behind the cart. Now, let me share something. There were SEVERAL empty spaces directly across the aisle, but he decides to sit there and wait on the ONE space that my cart is hanging into. I pretended to ignore him as I put the rest of the stuff in the car and turned to get Perrin in his car seat. Apparently, I was taking too long for Mr. A. Hole. He gives me a dirty look and pulls into the space anyway OVER the line into the handicap spot. Excuse me?! What was wrong with the other four or five spaces around us? I didn't even have the nerve to say anything to him as he got out and glared at me. I glared back. I DID, however, push the cart right up against the door of his SUV and leave it there. Childish, yes, but I hope it was still there when he came out.

I'm Getting Older...

How do I know this? Because I get excited over things that in my younger days I would have avoided like the plague. For example, today, we got our new washing machine. It's a fantastic washing machine, in my opinion, and I haven't even finished my first load of laundry yet. We bought it Monday, but because of the holiday and all, we couldn't pick it up until today. Let me tell you something strange... I could not sleep last night because I was so excited about getting a new washing machine. This would never have happened when I was, say, 20. At that age, a new washing machine would not have impressed me. Now that I have a husband and two kids, I am VERY impressed. Everyone I've talked to in the last few days has had to listen to me go on about the details as if I were talking about expecting another child. I may be a little on the nutty side, but even I know that's not normal. I'm going to have to stop myself before I start carrying pictures of it in my purse. I've been telling people all about our new blender, too. When did this happen? When did I stop caring about things like the latest movies, concerts, or clothes and start caring about appliances?

Another sign that I'm aging is the mail I get. A mailbox once full of Cosmo, Vogue, and Alloy catalogues has now given over to one stocked with Better Homes and Gardens, Parents Magazine, portrait studio coupons, and life insurance offers. I actually OPEN the Val-Pak envelope now instead of just tossing it into the trash. I find myself comparing deals on dry cleaning and wondering for the millionth time if those home dry cleaning kits really work or if I'll just damage my clothes beyond even professional help. And bills. Oh, yes. Let's not forget those. Somehow, whenever I'm having a bad day, it seems like all we get in the mail that day are bills and the local realty ad. ( Um, hello? We live in subsidized housing. Do you honestly think we can afford a house right now? )

I've also had to sort through my clothes and admit to myself that some of them have to be retired ( AKA: Goodwill ) because I am a MOM now and have to set an example for my children. The clothes I used to wear when I was a cocktail waitress in a nightclub are no longer appropriate. For some reason I kept holding onto them. I don't know why. It's not like I would actually WEAR them, but for some reason I wasn't ready to let go of them. I've finally gotten rid of them. Well...Almost. They're in a box waiting for someone to come pick them up. They'll be gone soon. Is this similar to what men call a "mid-life crisis"? I know I'm not middle-aged yet, but women DO mature faster than men. LOL. Whatever it is, I've finally come to terms with the fact that mini skirts and tube tops are just not for me anymore. Besides, if I can't stand the sight of my butt in a mini skirt, should anyone else have to? I do, however, like to flaunt my boobs on occasion. It's really impossible not to when you've been small breasted all your life and suddenly you have boobs that are two cup sizes bigger than you've ever worn. Thank goodness for breastfeeding. It's a shame they'll "deflate" once I stop nursing Perrin. I've seriously considered continuing to use the breast pump even after he's weaned. I could donate the milk to the local human milk bank. Help other people's babies. I'll tell you for SURE what I'm NOT going to do... Sell my milk on eBay. I don't know who's crazier, the people buying it or the people selling it.

At least I have a hot FedEx guy to install all my new appliances. I kind of enjoy watching Heath work in his uniform. He complains about all the climbing in and out of trucks he does at work, but let me tell you, it's paying off. That man has got a LOT of muscle. Sometimes, I pretend I can't open/reach stuff just so I can watch his muscles work while he does it for me. Heehee. And he likes it.

If I don't write for awhile, it's because I'm busy making margeritas in my new wave-action ( i.e. no stirring and chunk-free ) blender and washing all the clothes/bedding/towels in the house just because I want to play with my new washing machine.