Just A Little Rant -- My Current Top 3 Pet Peeves

For some reason I feel the need to blog about my top three current pet peeves.   Things I've noticed lately that I have about zero patience for.

#1 RUDE DRIVERS

I need to change lanes.  I turn my signal on, giving plenty of notice to the driver in my lane of choice.  What does he do?  Speed up.  No, not to get out of my way.  I don't mind it when there is a mutual understanding that the driver is trying to accommodate my request and his only option is to step on the gas.  No.  The rude driver speeds up for the express purpose of NOT LETTING ME IN.  Why?  So that he can wait at the same stop light I am going to wait at.  But he maneuvered his way into waiting in front of me instead of behind me.  Impressive, Mack.   Wow.  Not only did you save yourself so much time, but you just demonstrated that you don't know how to be polite.  Why is it acceptable in our culture to be rude on the road?  I just don't get it.  I could sit by that same guy on an airplane and the cultural understanding would be that we would make chit-chat and be buddies by the end of the flight.  But on the road?  No way.  Every man for himself.  

....and the other scenario.  The bird....or any other form of chastisement from the next car over.  Now, I'm a good driver and I'm not ashamed to admit it.  You can even ask my husband and he will eventually get around to saying I'm a decent driver if you pressure him with your eye contact long enough.  There are occassions, however, when I am driving in an unfamiliar place.  You know, that spot where everyone who lives there knows that from 4-7 pm it's one-way traffic but you've never been there before so of course you are going to have to quickly come up with an alternate plan?  Nothing wrong with that.  Then all of a sudden you get the bird.  Or a rude honk, or the driver in the next car over looking over at you and shaking his head in disgust.  We've all been there.  I don't need to go on.  But the point I want to make here is that this attitude is so full of HYPOCRISY!  We've all been there.  We've ALL made mistakes while driving.  Fortunately most of them are minor and there's no harm done.  But for other drivers to make people feel like idiots for the little mistakes that they make, I just want to say "who the bleep do you think you are?  God's gift to the road?"  You've made your own share of mistakes so don't go around shaking your head in disgust, trying to make other drivers feel lower than the dust under your feet.

#2 MISSING BABY WIPE

I'm changing a messy diaper.  In our house they come in various shapes and sizes.  I have an almost-three-year-old that I'm procrastinating potty training, and a 6-month-old baby who's just barely started on solid foods, if you know what I mean.  I don't mind the smell.  I don't even mind the process.  I'm used to it by now.  What DRIVES ME CRAZY is when I've got a pair of poopy legs in my left hand and I go to reach for the second wipe with my right hand.  It is not there.  Somehow the wipe I just used failed it's second-most-important duty....to invite it's successor up and out.  Now I'm under enormous pressure.  I only have one free hand and I'm about to have to do another load of laundry if I can't find the new wipe through that tiny little diamond-shaped hole.  No patience for this, I'm telling you.  It makes me want to scream....or swear.  And I'm not the swearing kind.

#3 "Someday you'll understand."

  One word: CON--DESCENDING. 

You're right.  I don't understand.  I can't comprehend a scenario that would justify saying this to another human being.  I think it's supposed to be some sort of fake sympathy?  That's the best I can make out.  But to me what it says is, "You are an imbecil."  Or at best, "My station in life is so far advanced in comparison to your primitive existence that you won't possibly be able to understand the logic of the statement I'm about to make."  Don't say this to people. Just don't.

Love Story

Meet my brother Dale.

(Don’t worry….that’s my baby he’s wearing. Not his.)

Dale is 2.5 years younger than me.
He lived in Yekaterinburg, Russia from 1999-2001 to serve as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
A brilliant linguist, Dale is fluent in Russian and proficient/competent/dabbles in every other language known to man. He currently works as a Project Manager for Rosetta Stone, Inc. and lives in Harrisonburg, VA. Lucky for us, Harrisonburg is only 2.5 hours away so we get frequent, sometimes surprise visits from him.

Meet Dale’s friend Olesya.

Born in Russia, Olesya joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints at age 11.  She served as a missionary in Kiev, Ukraine from 2004-2006.

Olesya speaks Russian, German, and English.  She currently lives in Moscow and works as a secretary.

Dale met Olesya for the first time in November 2007 when he took a business trip to Moscow to give a presentation on Rosetta Stone Software at the Russian State University for the Humanities. 

In his own words:

I went to Church and she spoke in Sacrament meeting.

I sat next to her during the third hour and managed to ask her a few questions to get to know her.

I wish that one of them had been, "Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

But I didn't have the guts.

Dale and Olesya kept in touch through the miracle of the internet.  Over the course of the next year and a half, their long-distance interactions increased drastically in frequency and longevity.

In February 2009, 

Dale flew to Moscow and asked Olesya to be his wife.

I’m so happy, I can’t stop smiling.  I already love her to pieces.  I’ve met her briefly twice on skype and can tell she is just a sweetheart.  I hope it won’t be too long before they can get all the visa details worked out so I can meet her in person.

The road of single-hood is quick and easy for some (ahem…Mom and Dad) and long and treacherous for others.  Some of us had a long row to hoe and Dale is certainly no exception.  I’m just so glad that when they finally posted pictures of them together the first thing I saw was a big smile on his face. 

I better stop writing, lest I should need to pull out the box of tissues. 

I love you, Dale.

The Smile Has Been Captured....

...at long last.

I Love You, Valentine!

This is how my husband feels about Valentine’s day.

And This is how I feel about Valentine's Day.

You are going to have to pretend that this is a video clip of Shirley Jones singing “Being in Love” instead of the footbridge scene.  I could not find the right clip anywhere on the internet.  Just pretend.  Okay? Humor me.

At least, this is how I felt about Valentine’s day for YEARS.  During my lonely, single, married-to-my-violin* days, I would pass one solitary V-day after another, just waiting for the stars to align so that I would have someone to celebrate with.  Actually, they almost did align once.  Back in 1997 when I actually WAS dating someone when February 14^th  rolled around.  Unfortunately our puppy love was interrupted by a menacing orchestra tour to the Pacific Northwestern states over Valentine’s weekend.  He stayed home and I went on tour….even though he was a violist.  Go figure.  

*I actually did hear word once that I had been described this way by a guy.  It’s true.

After so many years of yearning to celebrate romantic love I now maintain that if I have love in my life, and have occasion to celebrate it, it should be celebrated.  

Despite the commercialism of it all. 

I must admit I do agree with the basic premise of the above-linked article Weston sent me. 

Yes.  He sent it to me.  

I agree that if we can’t show affection 364 other days out of the year, roses, chocolates, and jewelry aren’t going to compensate for much.  However, I think my view of Valentine’s Day is fundamentally different than the scenario described here.  I think V-Day serves as yet another special reason to tell your sweetheart you love them in a sincere way.  It certainly doesn’t have to involve spending money.  I guess some people just don’t understand that.  Let’s assess these points one at a time, shall we?  And I quote:

As for this silly flower thing, it's even got to the point that any flowers can't do. Some years ago I planned on sending a woman some flowers that weren't roses, and the (female) co-workers were aghast. They felt that nothing mattered except roses.

I disagree.  V-day is not about roses.  It’s not even about receiving the token bouquet.  As I’ve said before, my hubby wins the grand prize for surprising me with flowers often.  Sometimes for special occasions, sometimes for no reason whatsoever.  And as for chocolate, well….we all know I’ve already had plenty of that.

And Valentine's Day really isn't even a two-way street. Men are utterly irrelevant except to serve as pawns in this commercial game, emptying their wallets in order to satisfy their lovers or those around them. Oh yea, retailers know the con game.     

Strongly Disagree.  Who is he kidding?  He’s exaggerating just to make a point.  I think women also put thought and effort into making V-day special for their men.  The women are the ones who actually CARE about it, after all.

Fortunately, Weston has one saving grace.  On February 13, 2003 he put an engagement ring on my finger.  This makes it possible for him to participate in celebrating the love that we share in the general proximity of V-day every year, while still sticking it to the commercializing man.  I’m cool with that.  Whatever floats your boat, sweetheart.  We can celebrate “Engagement Day.”  

But don’t be mad.  I’m still going to give you a pink, frilly Valentine.

I love you!!!

I Like To Eat My Hands

...and I won't smile for the camera.

p.s. Those cheeks really are as delicious as they look.

Chopin and Toddlers Juxtaposed

It is cold outside.

The van is in the shop.

We are stuck at home.

Today the boys wandered into the music room which doubles as the baby’s room.  This is a room I usually try to keep them out of for two reasons:

1) so they don’t wake the baby

2) so they don’t destroy my teaching studio.

Not the best policy for encouraging them to play the piano, I know.  

Well, since we have nothing to do except stay home and wait for everyone’s colds to go away, I figured we could kill some time by playing the piano together.

Sitting down to the piano with no specific purpose sparked a memory in me of times in my former life when I was free to play the piano in peace, with no specific purpose, any time I wanted to.  The motor memory in my fingers started to pick out Chopin’s e minor Nocturne from the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind.  The further along I got, the more I realized I probably learned this piece in earnest and entirety once upon a time…and indeed, I might actually have the music in my file somewhere.

I wandered over to my box of music which hasn’t been filed since we moved in.  (Still hoping I won’t have to unpack it before we move again…even though I have to access it occassionally.) Miraculously, the Chopin was right in the C folder where it belonged.

I pulled it out and began to hack away at it.  I was quickly joined at the bench again by two little blond boys, one on either side.  Well, as you may imagine it wasn’t the most glamorous of performances.  The combination of my poor piano skills and the boys “help”: pounding on the keys, holding down the keys I needed, tugging and climbing enthusiastically on me, well let’s just say we wouldn’t be able to release a cd.  Still, we made it through all 4 pages somehow.  The boys picked up on the sad/happy/mad/peaceful aspects of the form, and I enjoyed the nostalgia and sheer genius of Chopin.

Sometimes you just need a really....and I mean REALLY big basket of chocolate.

Santa brought me a really big basket of chocolate.  I can tell you right now that the one you are picturing in your head isn't big enough.  This basket is so big that when all the chocolate is gone I will pack it with a picnic and take it to the park.  

No, it wasn't the 100% Ghirardelli goodness you see pictured.  But allow me to list its contents, as the beautiful person who assembled the basket did for me...and I quote:

RELAX with CHOCOLATE!

Hershey's Dark Chocolate Squares

Hershey's Truffles (Cacao Reserve)

Hershey's Miniature Milky Way Bars

(I think this must be an umbrella term for Milky Way (milk and dark), Twix, and Snickers.  TWO big bags full.)

Hershey's Cocoa

Whitman Sampler  

(Yes.  THE honest-to-goodness box of chocolates that would have been adequate in and of itself)

Valor Dark Chocolate w/Pear Bar

Ghirardelli Milk Chocolate Bar

Hershey's Large Milk Chocolate Bar

Hershey's Large Milk Chocolate w/Almonds Bar

Hershey's Large Dark Chocolate Bar

Betty Crocker Dark Chocolate Brownie Mix

Scented Bath Soaps

Scented Tea Lights

Now, prior to Christmas we had received a gift basket catalog amongst the mass of other Christmas advertising and it sat in our magazine spot for perusal with all the other magazines in the "reading room" if you know what I mean.  So when I saw this big basket my first thought was that Santa had spotted it, ordered it, and paid a lot of money for it.  And I was slightly befuddled thinking that's a lot of money to pay for something that there's no way I could ever need or eat by myself.  Really. Could you?  

So imagine my relief when Santa told me he won it in a raffle at work.  And not to worry because he only put one ticket in the chocolate raffle and "more than one" ticket in the Wii raffle.  When pressed for the number he said he'd rather not divulge that information but he assured me that the ratio was more than 10 to 1.

Well, the Whitman Sampler went first, followed by the Truffles.  

Fast forward to now.   One of Weston's "resolutions" is to be more efficient with his study time by going to the library to do his homework without coming home after work.  3 days a week, at least.  Add to that his weekly commitment to Bishopric Mtg which is another guaranteed late night.

Co-incidentally and quite unfortunately, Adam also made a new resolution....not to nap any more.

So I find myself all of a sudden in the throws of 3 kids, my day just got immeasurably longer and now has no break in the middle.  I am tired.

Every now and then I find myself with the kids screaming at me and I'm ready to tear my hair out.  I tell myself, "I will be calm." If possible, walk out of the room.  Head for the basket o' chocolatey goodness.  Snag a piece or two. Take a deep breath, and pray for more patience.  It's that simple.