Julie Kemp Pick
When my youngest son was in kindergarten, we attended a school carnival where he was awarded a tiny goldfish for winning at ring toss. We proudly carried him out in his baggie, and set out to purchase his starter home. Sensing his loneliness, my boy suggested that we find him a roommate. When there were two, they were known as Red Spot and Gold Dot respectively.
By the time they moved into their third residence, Red Spot had passed on and Gold Dot continued to grow bigger and stronger. Once we arrived home from a 10-day vacation, and found the automatic fish food feeder had broken, but Gold Dot was still going strong. This miraculous orange fish grew larger than any goldfish we had ever seen.
When my son was a freshman in high school, Gold Dot miscalculated his leap from the tank to the bowl during bath time, and ended up on the kitchen floor. I was wearing my slippery dishwashing gloves, and called my husband for help. He saw the fish wiggling on the floor and simply stated, "It's his time," and walked away.
My son came running into the room in tears, so I yanked off my gloves and swooshed him back into the water. Then he saw something red in the water and yelled, "He's bleeding! He's bleeding!" So I put him into the smaller bowl, applying pressure to his wound by using a napkin as a tourniquet.
Meanwhile, my husband added, "There's nothing you can do. He had a long life." My significant other's comments were especially comforting considering he's in the healthcare business. It really made me reconsider having a living will, "Indigestion, nonsense! It's her time."
Fortunately, Gold Dot survived physically: mentally we're not so sure. As my son tells the story, his dad was the hero who saved his favorite goldfish after his mother carelessly let him jump out of the tank.
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Friday, April 8, 2011
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Fly Dumping Fiasco
Julie Kemp Pick
According to the Urban Dictionary, "The act of throwing your garbage in someone else's trash to hide where the garbage came from" is fly dumping. I recently heard of such an event at a dinner party.
A friend of mine was doing some major spring cleaning, when she ran out of room in her garbage containers. She would've gladly donated some of the items, but everything was in poor condition. Shoes were missing their mates, combs were missing their teeth, crayons were missing their colors, you get the point. In the meantime, my friend decided to store the garbage overnight in her garage until she came up with a plan.
The next day, she loaded up three large trash bags in her car, and headed off to work. She managed a boutique near an Italian restaurant. My petite friend proceeded to place these enormous bags in the waste receptacle in the back of the restaurant, before she walked a few doors down to her store. She was an early riser, and opened up the boutique several hours before the Italian restaurant started business.
At nightfall she closed up shop and drove home, but never made it in the garage. Her driveway was covered in garbage. It took her hours to clean up the layers and layers of disgusting garbage in the pouring rain. After the last bag was tied up, she found a piece of paper that must have slipped out. It was a napkin with the name of the Italian restaurant written on it.
A to Z Blogging Challenge
According to the Urban Dictionary, "The act of throwing your garbage in someone else's trash to hide where the garbage came from" is fly dumping. I recently heard of such an event at a dinner party.
A friend of mine was doing some major spring cleaning, when she ran out of room in her garbage containers. She would've gladly donated some of the items, but everything was in poor condition. Shoes were missing their mates, combs were missing their teeth, crayons were missing their colors, you get the point. In the meantime, my friend decided to store the garbage overnight in her garage until she came up with a plan.
The next day, she loaded up three large trash bags in her car, and headed off to work. She managed a boutique near an Italian restaurant. My petite friend proceeded to place these enormous bags in the waste receptacle in the back of the restaurant, before she walked a few doors down to her store. She was an early riser, and opened up the boutique several hours before the Italian restaurant started business.
At nightfall she closed up shop and drove home, but never made it in the garage. Her driveway was covered in garbage. It took her hours to clean up the layers and layers of disgusting garbage in the pouring rain. After the last bag was tied up, she found a piece of paper that must have slipped out. It was a napkin with the name of the Italian restaurant written on it.
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
The 3 E's In Etiquette
Julie Kemp Pick
As a 4 year old graduate of Wendy Ward Charm School, I think it only fitting that I pass along some of my expertise. Everyone from baseball players to reality TV stars are seen picking, tugging, spitting, and adjusting themselves on a daily basis, so it's time for an intervention.
Ear Wax Etiquette: Do not clean your ears with a key, pencil, or coat hanger. Beware of ear candling, an ancient method used to remove wax as well as other impurities in your body. Many studies found that the only wax extracted was from the candle itself. Consult with your doctor for the safest removal method, as even cotton swabs may cause havoc on your ear canal.
Eating Etiquette: Elbows off of the table, closed mouth chewing, and soup is meant to be sipped not slurped. Before going up to the buffet for your second helping, make sure that the tablecloth is not tucked into your underwear. Cutlery is recommended.
Elevator Etiquette: Always wait for others to enter, especially if they're in your group. If you are sharing the ride with a stranger, do not stand close enough to detect what that person had for lunch. More importantly, do not change your clothes in an elevator, even in emergencies. That's what phone booths are for.
A to Z Blogging Challenge.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Dropping Dead
Julie Kemp Pick
One of my biggest fears is dropping dead in a public restroom. I could just imagine hearing over the loud speaker at Target, " Clean up in aisle 5. Dead woman in stall #2." What if I hadn't shaved my legs or had a recent pedicure? And how many paramedics would have to carry me out?
Another horrible place to die would be in a department store fitting room in the middle of trying on a bathing suit. Who would be the first to discover me half dressed? What if the salesperson saw my granny panties? I could just imagine them calling my family to pick me up in the middle of a play-off game, and they'd all have the same response, "What's the rush?"
I'm currently having my black suit cleaned, just in case. Although I do look better in brighter colors. Maybe I'll go shopping. Then there's always the worry that no one would want to attend my final farewell. Erma Bombeck said it best, "If it looks like a lot of people aren't going to show up for my funeral, hold it in a phone booth, so it'll look crowded."
A to Z Blogging Challenge
One of my biggest fears is dropping dead in a public restroom. I could just imagine hearing over the loud speaker at Target, " Clean up in aisle 5. Dead woman in stall #2." What if I hadn't shaved my legs or had a recent pedicure? And how many paramedics would have to carry me out?
Another horrible place to die would be in a department store fitting room in the middle of trying on a bathing suit. Who would be the first to discover me half dressed? What if the salesperson saw my granny panties? I could just imagine them calling my family to pick me up in the middle of a play-off game, and they'd all have the same response, "What's the rush?"
I'm currently having my black suit cleaned, just in case. Although I do look better in brighter colors. Maybe I'll go shopping. Then there's always the worry that no one would want to attend my final farewell. Erma Bombeck said it best, "If it looks like a lot of people aren't going to show up for my funeral, hold it in a phone booth, so it'll look crowded."
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Colonoscopy Crackdown
Julie Kemp Pick
Actually it's crack up. I'll never forget my first colonoscopy. I scheduled a double whammy; an endoscopy which is a tube going down your throat, and a colonoscope enters through another orifice. I was looking forward to a nice restful sleep during both procedures, but it didn't go exactly as planned.
After the nurses started my IV, I thought I would instantly pass out. Instead, I was advised to view the monitor on my left, while the gastroenterologist went to work. Suddenly, I was watching a movie and my colon was the star. I usually enjoy eating popcorn at the movies, but thought it best not to ask. The doctor decided to give me the colonoscopy first, and I was hardly in a position to argue.
The doctor discovered a very large polyp, but I was extremely lucky that it was detected early before it would become cancerous. Afterward, the doctor handed me a picture ; a souvenir of a journey through my colon. This experience sounds like a great idea for a ride at Epcot Center, only this ride may have saved my life.
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Actually it's crack up. I'll never forget my first colonoscopy. I scheduled a double whammy; an endoscopy which is a tube going down your throat, and a colonoscope enters through another orifice. I was looking forward to a nice restful sleep during both procedures, but it didn't go exactly as planned.
After the nurses started my IV, I thought I would instantly pass out. Instead, I was advised to view the monitor on my left, while the gastroenterologist went to work. Suddenly, I was watching a movie and my colon was the star. I usually enjoy eating popcorn at the movies, but thought it best not to ask. The doctor decided to give me the colonoscopy first, and I was hardly in a position to argue.
The doctor discovered a very large polyp, but I was extremely lucky that it was detected early before it would become cancerous. Afterward, the doctor handed me a picture ; a souvenir of a journey through my colon. This experience sounds like a great idea for a ride at Epcot Center, only this ride may have saved my life.
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Friday, April 1, 2011
Battling Bulges
Julie Kemp Pick
Years ago most designer clothing was cut more generously than it is today. A size medium could be stretched a lot farther back then. I've noticed that many people are very size conscious and are determined to squeeze into whatever size they wore five or ten years ago regardless of the fit. This often results in many unflattering bulges that could easily be avoided.
My husband's obscene bike shorts are a shining example of a good thing gone wrong. When he first showed up pedaling to my mom's house in them, she had to politely excuse herself and go inside. Though she loved her future son in law, she couldn't quite look at him the same after seeing him in his spandex splendor. More than 25 years and 20 pounds later, he still squeezes into those shorts, displaying more than his original bulge.
Bulge blindness affects celebrities that have their own personal stylists too. Often times I want to throw something at the TV when I see Oprah encased in her clothing. With all of her wardrobe people, wouldn't you think that someone would notice that if she turns the wrong way, her dress will likely split open? What really bothers me, is that she's hosted shows with experts advising how to buy the proper fitting bra for millions of viewers, but doesn't invest the time and energy to find a suitable seamstress for herself.
Is it really sexy to wear something tight enough to cut off circulation when you're overweight? Am I really one to judge when I prefer to wear turtlenecks year round? I do miss Dickeys.
With muffin tops, back fat, side spillage and raging thighs, it's getting more difficult to battle bulges as we grow older. A well-balanced diet and exercise will definitely help, but it's easier to go up a size.
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Years ago most designer clothing was cut more generously than it is today. A size medium could be stretched a lot farther back then. I've noticed that many people are very size conscious and are determined to squeeze into whatever size they wore five or ten years ago regardless of the fit. This often results in many unflattering bulges that could easily be avoided.
My husband's obscene bike shorts are a shining example of a good thing gone wrong. When he first showed up pedaling to my mom's house in them, she had to politely excuse herself and go inside. Though she loved her future son in law, she couldn't quite look at him the same after seeing him in his spandex splendor. More than 25 years and 20 pounds later, he still squeezes into those shorts, displaying more than his original bulge.
Bulge blindness affects celebrities that have their own personal stylists too. Often times I want to throw something at the TV when I see Oprah encased in her clothing. With all of her wardrobe people, wouldn't you think that someone would notice that if she turns the wrong way, her dress will likely split open? What really bothers me, is that she's hosted shows with experts advising how to buy the proper fitting bra for millions of viewers, but doesn't invest the time and energy to find a suitable seamstress for herself.
Is it really sexy to wear something tight enough to cut off circulation when you're overweight? Am I really one to judge when I prefer to wear turtlenecks year round? I do miss Dickeys.
With muffin tops, back fat, side spillage and raging thighs, it's getting more difficult to battle bulges as we grow older. A well-balanced diet and exercise will definitely help, but it's easier to go up a size.
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Aging Awkwardly
Julie Kemp Pick
As I officially exit my forty-something years, I think about some of the things I have to look forward to.
Forgetfulness: Where did I leave my keys, my phone and my floss? Waking up in the middle of the night wondering if I remembered to close the garage door. Repeating the same stories over and over again. Repeating the same stories over and over again.
Ingrown hairs popping up in the middle of my face, without any warning. Some long enough to twirl around my finger to use as a memory knot. Of course those 3D monsters will attract every one's attention, before I'm finally able to notice them. I'll never really know if my husband saw them as he'd be much too nervous to be the messenger. I'll never be able to leave the house without a tweezers in my holster. I'm already developing a love-hate relationship with my rear view mirror, because it tells no lies in the light of day.
Flatulence attacks even triggered by excessive gum chewing. Alternating between loud bursts and silent sewage air filtration. Suddenly feeling less conspicuous at a hot and steamy day at the zoo, or a tempers flared bingo game at the senior center.
Tired all the time. Always looking forward to the next nap. Standing longer than necessary for fear of passing out in a chair in the middle of the day. Experiencing jet lag when you haven't even gone out of the house.
Yelling when I think I'm using my inside voice. Losing the ability to whisper. Once I thought I was having a private conversation with my son on the main floor of a movie theater, when I noticed people were staring down at me from the top of the escalator. This was extremely embarrassing, but it would've been worse if I were chewing gum.
A is for Aging Awkwardly is my first entry in the A to Z Blogging Challenge.
As I officially exit my forty-something years, I think about some of the things I have to look forward to.
Forgetfulness: Where did I leave my keys, my phone and my floss? Waking up in the middle of the night wondering if I remembered to close the garage door. Repeating the same stories over and over again. Repeating the same stories over and over again.
Ingrown hairs popping up in the middle of my face, without any warning. Some long enough to twirl around my finger to use as a memory knot. Of course those 3D monsters will attract every one's attention, before I'm finally able to notice them. I'll never really know if my husband saw them as he'd be much too nervous to be the messenger. I'll never be able to leave the house without a tweezers in my holster. I'm already developing a love-hate relationship with my rear view mirror, because it tells no lies in the light of day.
Flatulence attacks even triggered by excessive gum chewing. Alternating between loud bursts and silent sewage air filtration. Suddenly feeling less conspicuous at a hot and steamy day at the zoo, or a tempers flared bingo game at the senior center.
Tired all the time. Always looking forward to the next nap. Standing longer than necessary for fear of passing out in a chair in the middle of the day. Experiencing jet lag when you haven't even gone out of the house.
Yelling when I think I'm using my inside voice. Losing the ability to whisper. Once I thought I was having a private conversation with my son on the main floor of a movie theater, when I noticed people were staring down at me from the top of the escalator. This was extremely embarrassing, but it would've been worse if I were chewing gum.
A is for Aging Awkwardly is my first entry in the A to Z Blogging Challenge.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)