Admittedly we have a complicated set of issues when it comes to holiday cards - we have Agnostic, Atheist, Buddhist, Christian, Jewish and Pagan friends and relatives (and that is just the alphabetical list off the top of my head!) all in various states of touchiness and often in the same household. But we like to send out cards because we (OK, fine, I) like to show off how cute our kids are. (They really are totally freaking adorable! Seriously.) But so do most Americans in the 21st century.
So I send out about 200 cards every year, and my normal note on the bottom of each card (since I'm not fond of stamped out cards with no handwritten touch) goes something along the lines of, "wishing you a happy holiday season and a wonderful new year." If I know for sure the whole family is Christian I might say "Merry Christmas" instead of "happy holiday season" except in those cases, where I know the recipients are way on-board the "persecuted Christians you have to say Christmas and can't celebrate any other holidays in December, I can't hear you unless you only mention MY holiday, la-la-la" bandwagon.
You know the type I mean. The ones that send out cards that say "Remember Jesus is THE reason for the season" (maybe your reason, but certainly not mine) and put on bumper stickers like "It's OK to say Merry Christmas to me!" (are they really worried people are dying to say "Merry Christmas" but are scared to because Christians are such a small percentage of the population and non-Christians get so offended they might hit them with sticks for mentioning their holiday? - I don't think so.)
Now for those people, I take perverse pride in writing a generic happy holidays note, and especially in knowing they are seething, but can't yell at me because I grew up Jewish and then they'd just sound like assholes for being mad that I am wishing them happiness. Which they are. OK, maybe assholes is a little sharp. How about self-absorbed babies who can only count their own religion as valid and want to make everyone celebrate theirs. Don't believe me? On Dec. 20th this year, when one of these types (look for the bumper sticker) says "Merry Christmas" to you, answer "Happy Hanukkah" or "Blessed Yule" (I don't care,whatever floats your boat) and watch what you get back from them. (I happen to personally enjoy confused sputtering.)
Now it will actually be Hanukkah and Yule and not Christmas on that day, but that won't matter to the Christmas bullies. They want to own the whole month of December. I feel badly for trolling them, but then again - they started it. To be fair, I also send purely secular cards that might have pictures of trees, ornaments and/or reindeer to my crazy "I can't believe she married goyim" relatives as well, because I know it makes them crazy.
Yankee Swaps - fully grown adults literally taking candy from children - really? Who decided that taking a present away from someone was a fun game? I'm declaring myself allergic.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Best moisturizer in the observable universe
And I don't use the term lightly. This is what my jar of ReVive Senstif looks like when I'm done. See that little smugdy bit? As soon as I noticed it in the picture I went back in and got the rest out. Won't leave a smidge. And this is just the little bottle they give you in the gift with purchase when you buy the big bottle. The little bottle lasted me 7 1/2 weeks. I usually get about 6 months out of a big bottle. Which is a really good thing. Because yowzah is it pricey.
Admittedly this is a godawful expensive moisturizer, which is why I scrape out every little bit, but this stuff beats everything - high and low. And believe me, I have tried everything. It beats La Mer, it beats Olay Pro X, it beats Prevage, SK-II, and every single thing my dermatologist has ever given me. And as we approach our early, late 40s (what? 48 counts) especially those of us who won't stick botulism in our heads because, um, botulism......we need the best possible weapons in the war against looking our age. This is my bunker buster bomb.
Since I can never keep a good thing to myself, I offer this recommendation to all of you who might be in the same sort of position, skincarewise. Go get some, you won't be sorry. Well maybe your credit card will be, but it's worth it. You can get it at Neiman Marcus, Saks and Bliss - don't bother trying to find it cheaper in Canada - I've already tried. Also I'm really hoping they send me some free stuff because of this blog post, the stuff rocks!
Admittedly this is a godawful expensive moisturizer, which is why I scrape out every little bit, but this stuff beats everything - high and low. And believe me, I have tried everything. It beats La Mer, it beats Olay Pro X, it beats Prevage, SK-II, and every single thing my dermatologist has ever given me. And as we approach our early, late 40s (what? 48 counts) especially those of us who won't stick botulism in our heads because, um, botulism......we need the best possible weapons in the war against looking our age. This is my bunker buster bomb.
Since I can never keep a good thing to myself, I offer this recommendation to all of you who might be in the same sort of position, skincarewise. Go get some, you won't be sorry. Well maybe your credit card will be, but it's worth it. You can get it at Neiman Marcus, Saks and Bliss - don't bother trying to find it cheaper in Canada - I've already tried. Also I'm really hoping they send me some free stuff because of this blog post, the stuff rocks!
Monday, October 17, 2011
"Let's go out in the City Monday night"
Was what P very nicely proposed on Friday. He had a client meeting downtown and we had an experimental theatre company cocktail party benefit we'd already paid for - why not make a night of it? Or at least that was the thinking on Friday. By Monday, the reality of why not, came crashing in.
In my mind, on Friday I'd go to the city wearing something smashing, enjoy dinner and some cocktails with interesting folks and be squired home by my dashing hubby.
Here's how that looked on Monday. "Shit, I have nothing that I can wear into the office (remember the office?) for a wind down pizza day lunch and out to dinner in SoHo and to a downtown cocktail party. Fine, I'll deal with it later." Go to work, get out early, rush home, get new dog licenses(remember the dogs?), pay a shiva call, see what the kids' homework is looking like (remember the kids?), get the kids to roam the neighborhood to get signatures on dog petitions because there is no freaking way I can do it, (dogs and kids, oh boy!) run upstairs and throw everything in the closet on the bed searching for anything that will make me look like a cool downtown city girl, realize that no amount of packaging is gonna make that happen, but have no time to cry about it, curse and bless the inventor of Spanx simultaneously, throw on a wrap dress, boots and too much eye make-up. Now where are those kids?
Waiting for P to call to say what train I should catch and wondering if I should be bummed or happy if he calls it off to just come home. Did I mention I have to get the girl child to school for 6:30AM tomorrow morning?
Someday I will write about the great doggie candy eating debacle.......
In my mind, on Friday I'd go to the city wearing something smashing, enjoy dinner and some cocktails with interesting folks and be squired home by my dashing hubby.
Here's how that looked on Monday. "Shit, I have nothing that I can wear into the office (remember the office?) for a wind down pizza day lunch and out to dinner in SoHo and to a downtown cocktail party. Fine, I'll deal with it later." Go to work, get out early, rush home, get new dog licenses(remember the dogs?), pay a shiva call, see what the kids' homework is looking like (remember the kids?), get the kids to roam the neighborhood to get signatures on dog petitions because there is no freaking way I can do it, (dogs and kids, oh boy!) run upstairs and throw everything in the closet on the bed searching for anything that will make me look like a cool downtown city girl, realize that no amount of packaging is gonna make that happen, but have no time to cry about it, curse and bless the inventor of Spanx simultaneously, throw on a wrap dress, boots and too much eye make-up. Now where are those kids?
Waiting for P to call to say what train I should catch and wondering if I should be bummed or happy if he calls it off to just come home. Did I mention I have to get the girl child to school for 6:30AM tomorrow morning?
Someday I will write about the great doggie candy eating debacle.......
Friday, September 23, 2011
You have GOT to be kidding me
Please know that any food that is left in the refrigerator is not up for grabs. If there is food leftover from a meeting it does not mean that you can help yourself. Please only help yourself if an email goes out telling you it is okay to do so.
The 2nd floor refrigerator is very full. Please be considerate of what you put in there. Please remember this is a shared space.
Thanks.
Yes I actually received this email today, because evidently I work at a sit-com of some sort. I would so love a laugh track - and better lighting. Today I had to make fundraising calls to lots of people, including ones named Elizabeth Taylor, LaToya Jackson and Lana Turner. None of them were the people you'd hope. I also had to stop myself from giggling hysterically into the phone when the voice mail I got to intoned that I was being processed by IP VoiceNet (say it out loud - yes I am a twelve year old).
In the last two weeks I've been at this place I've had both stomach flu and the cold from hell (that no one will give me antibiotics for!!!!) My throat is absolutely killing me from talking on the phone for four hours straight begging for donations and my ears hurt from, well I don't know - they just hurt!
All in all, I can't say this experiment is going very well, but I've only got three weeks left. During those three weeks we're having an 80th birthday party for my dad, we have guests staying with us from Australia for a week, we're hosting a dinner party for a friend we haven't seen since college (shit must loose 10 pounds pronto!), and there are three week days with no school. You know it's bad when you're kind of wishing you get hit with just some small space debris so you can rest up in the hospital for a few days.
Maybe I'll amuse myself my moving around the food in the 2nd floor refrigerator.
The 2nd floor refrigerator is very full. Please be considerate of what you put in there. Please remember this is a shared space.
Thanks.
Yes I actually received this email today, because evidently I work at a sit-com of some sort. I would so love a laugh track - and better lighting. Today I had to make fundraising calls to lots of people, including ones named Elizabeth Taylor, LaToya Jackson and Lana Turner. None of them were the people you'd hope. I also had to stop myself from giggling hysterically into the phone when the voice mail I got to intoned that I was being processed by IP VoiceNet (say it out loud - yes I am a twelve year old).
In the last two weeks I've been at this place I've had both stomach flu and the cold from hell (that no one will give me antibiotics for!!!!) My throat is absolutely killing me from talking on the phone for four hours straight begging for donations and my ears hurt from, well I don't know - they just hurt!
All in all, I can't say this experiment is going very well, but I've only got three weeks left. During those three weeks we're having an 80th birthday party for my dad, we have guests staying with us from Australia for a week, we're hosting a dinner party for a friend we haven't seen since college (shit must loose 10 pounds pronto!), and there are three week days with no school. You know it's bad when you're kind of wishing you get hit with just some small space debris so you can rest up in the hospital for a few days.
Maybe I'll amuse myself my moving around the food in the 2nd floor refrigerator.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
How Quickly Things Change
It is amazing how quickly one can go from, "Wow, what a great organization. I can help a lot of people live better lives by working here" to, "You just erased all the work I did over the whole day by pressing one button? Fuck it, I get paid by the hour." It took me less than a week.
Yes, yesterday at the very end of the day yesterday, my boss erased the email I'd spent all day adding bccs to, with a charming "Oops" and then the admittance that she really isn't all that great with computers and had no idea how to undo. I then got to utter the immortal words, "Well I guess I should reconstruct before I move on to the next project." or in my head, "Fuck it, I get paid by the hour."
Today I tried to talk on the phone with donors while hacking through the worst cold in the known universe. Can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.
Yes, yesterday at the very end of the day yesterday, my boss erased the email I'd spent all day adding bccs to, with a charming "Oops" and then the admittance that she really isn't all that great with computers and had no idea how to undo. I then got to utter the immortal words, "Well I guess I should reconstruct before I move on to the next project." or in my head, "Fuck it, I get paid by the hour."
Today I tried to talk on the phone with donors while hacking through the worst cold in the known universe. Can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Random Stupidity in Corporate America Edition
So it isn't even really corporate - it's non-profit, and the stupidity is astounding. This is an organization that hires new temps every year to produce their major benefit, yet surrounds itself with so much jargon that it takes a week to explain its version of the English language to the newly hired corps.
The best example so far? Did a person on our calling list participate in this fundraiser last year? The simple English answer would be yes or no, (no rocket science, right?). Instead the company insists on true and false, and refers to them as trues or false. (Yes, as in this person is a true. That person is a false.) The organizing mom in me wants to ask why on earth they are making life more complicated than it needs to be, but it's a national corporate directive and I'm a temp in a small satellite office. All my years of yoga breathing, flew out the window in the first fifteen minutes of cubedom.
I shouldn't complain, because I do have a view out the window behind someone else's cube. But I don't get to decide if the shade is up or down. The lucky window cube owner has that distinction. And my boss keeps walking over to my desk and turning on the small florescent light that attaches to my cube. She doesn't seem to understand I prefer it off. But the absolute grossest thing? She turns pages by licking her fingers - not the usual gross enough index finger lick, but instead by squeezing her tongue in between her index finger and thumb to moisten them both thoroughly before touching each page. I shudder just writing about it.
Friday's stupidity will surely come back to bite me in the butt on Monday. My boss (at this office, not my boss I've never met in the main office) told me to send an email to a high ranking politician, thanking him for attending our kick-off event. Even though I asked her if maybe someone that important should be handled by someone way more knowledgeable than a temp in her first week. Even though I asked if they had someone who was supposed to handle the VIPs. And even though I mentioned to her (a lot!) that the info we had on the database was wrong all over the place, she told me I had to assume in every case the data base was right (the data base is after all, sacred) and write the email without further checking in to the facts. And even though his office said to send all communications to his Chief-of-Staff, she wanted the email sent only to him to try to do an end run around. (She doesn't seem to understand that he probably isn't reading his .gov emails himself.) Monday will surely find me yelled at by the other boss for sending a communication to such a high ranking official without her authorization. I can't wait. The most amazing part of the day was when this boss later wanted me to wait for her approval of my copy before I sent out the same email to all the rest of the people on my list. Can't be too careful you know.
The best example so far? Did a person on our calling list participate in this fundraiser last year? The simple English answer would be yes or no, (no rocket science, right?). Instead the company insists on true and false, and refers to them as trues or false. (Yes, as in this person is a true. That person is a false.) The organizing mom in me wants to ask why on earth they are making life more complicated than it needs to be, but it's a national corporate directive and I'm a temp in a small satellite office. All my years of yoga breathing, flew out the window in the first fifteen minutes of cubedom.
I shouldn't complain, because I do have a view out the window behind someone else's cube. But I don't get to decide if the shade is up or down. The lucky window cube owner has that distinction. And my boss keeps walking over to my desk and turning on the small florescent light that attaches to my cube. She doesn't seem to understand I prefer it off. But the absolute grossest thing? She turns pages by licking her fingers - not the usual gross enough index finger lick, but instead by squeezing her tongue in between her index finger and thumb to moisten them both thoroughly before touching each page. I shudder just writing about it.
Friday's stupidity will surely come back to bite me in the butt on Monday. My boss (at this office, not my boss I've never met in the main office) told me to send an email to a high ranking politician, thanking him for attending our kick-off event. Even though I asked her if maybe someone that important should be handled by someone way more knowledgeable than a temp in her first week. Even though I asked if they had someone who was supposed to handle the VIPs. And even though I mentioned to her (a lot!) that the info we had on the database was wrong all over the place, she told me I had to assume in every case the data base was right (the data base is after all, sacred) and write the email without further checking in to the facts. And even though his office said to send all communications to his Chief-of-Staff, she wanted the email sent only to him to try to do an end run around. (She doesn't seem to understand that he probably isn't reading his .gov emails himself.) Monday will surely find me yelled at by the other boss for sending a communication to such a high ranking official without her authorization. I can't wait. The most amazing part of the day was when this boss later wanted me to wait for her approval of my copy before I sent out the same email to all the rest of the people on my list. Can't be too careful you know.
Last week
Last week I started a new experiment. After fifteen years of at home momdom, working on a novel and keeping the place from falling down around our ears, I took a short-term temp job. I'm working 20 hours a week for the next four weeks at a non-profit, helping them gear up for their major fundraiser of the year.
Twenty hours didn't seem like much, until I didn't have them in my week any more. I started the week with a stomach bug, no knowledge of spreadsheets and not enough laundry done. I pretty much ended the week the same way.
We had only one family meal together (down from our usual five) and that one was cobbled together from left overs and a supermarket rotisserie chicken. The girl ran out of shirts. The boy ran out of shorts. And by Friday I went grocery shopping at CVS. Friday night I was doing laundry at 10:50PM.
Today the hubby and I went grocery shopping together. (Sunday grocery shopping sucks. There is NO food in the supermarket!) He's making dinner tonight. I've got a list (and all the ingredients) for everything I'm going to cook all week. What could possibly go wrong? Oh yeah, now I have a head cold.
Twenty hours didn't seem like much, until I didn't have them in my week any more. I started the week with a stomach bug, no knowledge of spreadsheets and not enough laundry done. I pretty much ended the week the same way.
We had only one family meal together (down from our usual five) and that one was cobbled together from left overs and a supermarket rotisserie chicken. The girl ran out of shirts. The boy ran out of shorts. And by Friday I went grocery shopping at CVS. Friday night I was doing laundry at 10:50PM.
Today the hubby and I went grocery shopping together. (Sunday grocery shopping sucks. There is NO food in the supermarket!) He's making dinner tonight. I've got a list (and all the ingredients) for everything I'm going to cook all week. What could possibly go wrong? Oh yeah, now I have a head cold.
I'm done threatening
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)