The carnival came to town last week. I was running errands with my 88 year old mother when she saw it spread over what used to be the library lawn. "I always loved the carnival," she said.
A day or so later we were traveling the same road when she commented on the carnival again.
"Wouldn't it be fun to ride the ferris wheel again."
"Would you do it?" I asked. She didn't answer.
And so Saturday afternoon, we kidnapped Mom and Dad and took them to the carnival. We sat on a bench and ate cajun shrimp and snow cones and watched the people go by.
And Mom and I rode the ferris wheel. We laughed at the sign that warned about rocking the car (while our car rocked) and waved at Dad and Alan as they watched from below. She told me about riding the rollar coaster with her first beau. And I thought about life and love and being young and growing old and the eternal circle of things.
"I haven't been on a ferris wheel in fifty years!" she said.
There are moments when you know you are doing the right thing. And that was one of them.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Monday, June 2, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Coming Home!
I've been really struggling with feeling depressed, of all things. My problem is that I wanted everything to be perfect when Elder Danny reappeared. And it's not. And it won't be. I had this goal--this end-point--when the house would be perfectly organized and decorated, all the boxes in the garage emptied and put away, and I would be thirty pounds skinnier instead of ten pounds heavier than when he left. The dog-chewed blinds would be replaced, trees would be planted, and the carpet would be cleaned. Like he's excited to come home so that he can see the house, right?! Silly me. I'm revising my goals by the day, and pretty soon I think my list is going to read "clean the bathrooms!"
We loved our Sunday phone call. I didn't even try to keep the conversation away from "TWO WEEKS!" Yes, it made him trunky, but he's just going to have to deal with that. He asked if we could have chicken enchiladas and chocolate ice cream when he gets home. I think I can arrange that. He also sounded really surprised that everyone is coming from out-of-town to see him. Like he doesn't know he's a celebrity around here!!!!
SIXTEEN DAYS--wahoo! (Does that mean that I can pick sixteen projects and do one a day and . . . oh wait, there's a couple of Sundays in there, and then there's my daughter's high school graduation, and the two projects she wants me to help her finish so she can get her Young Woman Recognition award, and Andrew's baseball games and everyone else arriving before Danny--which takes my target date to twelve days, and . . . Give it up, Liz. It's not going to happen. Stick with cleaning the bathrooms. It's more realistic.)
We loved our Sunday phone call. I didn't even try to keep the conversation away from "TWO WEEKS!" Yes, it made him trunky, but he's just going to have to deal with that. He asked if we could have chicken enchiladas and chocolate ice cream when he gets home. I think I can arrange that. He also sounded really surprised that everyone is coming from out-of-town to see him. Like he doesn't know he's a celebrity around here!!!!
SIXTEEN DAYS--wahoo! (Does that mean that I can pick sixteen projects and do one a day and . . . oh wait, there's a couple of Sundays in there, and then there's my daughter's high school graduation, and the two projects she wants me to help her finish so she can get her Young Woman Recognition award, and Andrew's baseball games and everyone else arriving before Danny--which takes my target date to twelve days, and . . . Give it up, Liz. It's not going to happen. Stick with cleaning the bathrooms. It's more realistic.)
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Totally and Unabashedly Addicted
And I never watch TV. It's true. Ask those who know me best. In fact, that box in the living room is the only thing I have ever had violent fantasies about, fantasies which involve baseball bats and pruning sheers--not in the same fantasy, by the way.
But here I am, watching American Idol every week. Totally addicted. And if that's not enough, I've found that the night just isn't complete without at least one episode of 24. Of course, that's on a DVD, so does it still count? Probably, since it had its beginnings on TV.
But the upside is that AI is somewhat self-limiting and I get to see my married kids more (since I offer a free meal for anyone who will participate with me). As for 24--let's just put it this way. The show puts my life in perspective. Anything that goes wrong, I can always say, "It could be worse. I could be Jack." "Had a bad day? Try Jack's."
So that's not all bad, is it?
But here I am, watching American Idol every week. Totally addicted. And if that's not enough, I've found that the night just isn't complete without at least one episode of 24. Of course, that's on a DVD, so does it still count? Probably, since it had its beginnings on TV.
But the upside is that AI is somewhat self-limiting and I get to see my married kids more (since I offer a free meal for anyone who will participate with me). As for 24--let's just put it this way. The show puts my life in perspective. Anything that goes wrong, I can always say, "It could be worse. I could be Jack." "Had a bad day? Try Jack's."
So that's not all bad, is it?
Friday, April 25, 2008
Why Salesmen Get Doors Slammed in Their Faces (by a normally nice lady)
Top Eleven Things I Wish They'd Teach Salesmen:
11. Don't ask to come in my house. If you absolutely must come in my house, make sure you have someone with you. Preferably a woman. And show me your ID. You may be a nice guy, but I don't know that.
10. Be scrupulously honest in what you tell me. If you tell me your demonstration will take ten minutes, it'd better be ten minutes. I'll be watching the clock. If you say you'll clean my carpet, then clean it. (If there's a contingency clause--like "if you buy the vacuum") say so. Before I move the furniture.)
9. I don't care what my neighbors bought. Keeping up with the Jones' really doesn't apply when it comes to cleaning products and magazine subscriptions.
8. Don't ask me about my neighbors. I'm not going to tell you their names and occupations, or if they have small children. I know what you're doing, and I don't want you to manipulate my friends.
7. Cut the small talk. We both know that you don't care about my life, so don't waste my time asking me about my hobbies. Let's cut to the chase and let me get back to what I was doing before you rang my doorbell.
6. Don't try to be funny. If you were truly funny, you'd be making a living in stand-up comedy, instead of selling vacuums. So skip the whole "you can sweep me off the porch with a broom" routine.
5. Don't tell me this offer is only good for the next ten minutes. Leave me a brochure with a phone number and let me think about it--I might even call you back!
4. No means no. Don't force me to be rude. Remember Mr. Collins in Pride and Prejudice? When I say no, I'm not being coy. I just don't want it. So please ignore the "rule of thumb" that says you have to hear no three times before you take it seriously.
3. When I do say no, don't be rude. Let's make a deal: I'll say no pleasantly, and you accept it graciously.
2. Don't try to make me feel guilty. I don't care if you grew up on the south side of Chicago and have an anger management problem you're trying to overcome. I don't care if you're earning a trip to Disneyland and I'm the last sale you need. I had seven kids of my own to keep off the streets, out of trouble, and get into college--don't try to make me feel responsible for you too!
1. Have a product worth selling. That's what sales is all about--the PRODUCT! Not you. Not your background. Not your hopes and dreams. Save that for people who care. Just tell me what you're selling. Tell me what it costs and ask me if I want it. It'll save us both some time.
Quote of the day: "Your neighbor said she needed another magazine like she needed a hole in the head, but she still bought one to help me out."
My apologies to good salesmen out there (Tom). I'm sorry so many who went before you have given sales a bad name. Here's my suggested door approach: "Hi, I'm _________ and I'm selling ____________. Are you interested in learning more about this product? Thanks for your time and have a good day."
11. Don't ask to come in my house. If you absolutely must come in my house, make sure you have someone with you. Preferably a woman. And show me your ID. You may be a nice guy, but I don't know that.
10. Be scrupulously honest in what you tell me. If you tell me your demonstration will take ten minutes, it'd better be ten minutes. I'll be watching the clock. If you say you'll clean my carpet, then clean it. (If there's a contingency clause--like "if you buy the vacuum") say so. Before I move the furniture.)
9. I don't care what my neighbors bought. Keeping up with the Jones' really doesn't apply when it comes to cleaning products and magazine subscriptions.
8. Don't ask me about my neighbors. I'm not going to tell you their names and occupations, or if they have small children. I know what you're doing, and I don't want you to manipulate my friends.
7. Cut the small talk. We both know that you don't care about my life, so don't waste my time asking me about my hobbies. Let's cut to the chase and let me get back to what I was doing before you rang my doorbell.
6. Don't try to be funny. If you were truly funny, you'd be making a living in stand-up comedy, instead of selling vacuums. So skip the whole "you can sweep me off the porch with a broom" routine.
5. Don't tell me this offer is only good for the next ten minutes. Leave me a brochure with a phone number and let me think about it--I might even call you back!
4. No means no. Don't force me to be rude. Remember Mr. Collins in Pride and Prejudice? When I say no, I'm not being coy. I just don't want it. So please ignore the "rule of thumb" that says you have to hear no three times before you take it seriously.
3. When I do say no, don't be rude. Let's make a deal: I'll say no pleasantly, and you accept it graciously.
2. Don't try to make me feel guilty. I don't care if you grew up on the south side of Chicago and have an anger management problem you're trying to overcome. I don't care if you're earning a trip to Disneyland and I'm the last sale you need. I had seven kids of my own to keep off the streets, out of trouble, and get into college--don't try to make me feel responsible for you too!
1. Have a product worth selling. That's what sales is all about--the PRODUCT! Not you. Not your background. Not your hopes and dreams. Save that for people who care. Just tell me what you're selling. Tell me what it costs and ask me if I want it. It'll save us both some time.
Quote of the day: "Your neighbor said she needed another magazine like she needed a hole in the head, but she still bought one to help me out."
My apologies to good salesmen out there (Tom). I'm sorry so many who went before you have given sales a bad name. Here's my suggested door approach: "Hi, I'm _________ and I'm selling ____________. Are you interested in learning more about this product? Thanks for your time and have a good day."
Monday, April 14, 2008
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