i have no secrets...

true story. if you want to know something about me...ask. i am usually just chomping at the bit to talk about myself. i mean, let's be honest. some people, however, over share. you know the type. instead of saying my tummy hurts, they exclaim in graphic detail how their women's problems really cramp their style. or instead of saying, where is your restroom, they announce what is about to go down once they get behind a stall door. i mean, really, is information always necessary? because in LOTS of situations i'm inclined to say that don't ask don't tell is a fair policy. but some people...
today i set out on a lunchtime adventure with a co-worker. our lunch conversations never lack substance, never lack humor, never lack a certain inappropriate fun factor, but they are typically our conversations. we have mastered the art of telling the whisper joke. we have perfected the art of pointing out "that person" without calling attention to ourselves. we are pros at leaving just enough to the imagination that the innocent bystander (if eavesdropping) would be curious and confused all at the same time. we are southern women and we know how to act.
but back to lunch...today we shared our area with some tourists from the north. we often share lunch with tourists since we live in a tourist town, but this day was extra special. these sweet visitors who are gladly pumping money into our local economy were textbook tourists. they were pale (with the exception of their sunburned necks), they were toting nylon backpacks, they were wearing sandals that would make you squirm, and dear old dad was sporting jorts. yes, they were textbook. but, what came from their mouths was neither anticipated, appropriate, nor quiet. and i loved the nightmare for all it was...awful.
the poor daughter was dressed like a hobo. every item was striped, bright, and too small. a happy as a lark little mis-matched girl. a girl who clearly has some concept of fashion (some tiny concept) but was stifled by her anti-stylish mom. when this little girl took a spot on the bench to wait she could not help but call attention to her mom's poor choice in apparel. "ugh, mom's wearing her spandex again." insert my giggle here. i was loving the honesty...until...mom replied in a loud and rather nasal sounding voice "yes, i am. when i get wet i chafe."
BOOM. what the crap just happened?! how do i not pee my pants with laughter? how do i not jerk my head around to look? how do i not yell "ewww!"? how do i stay calm and collected, and better yet, how will my friend not jump at this opportunity to bust a gut?
like i said before, us southern ladies know how to act...so we convulsed silently and waited for the traveling side show to leave our ear shot. then, we lost it. really? was that real life? did she say "wet" and "chafe" in one sentence? was that really out loud? was her husband not about to die of embarrassment? does she always share so so so very much info with the general public? and for goodness sake where was she going that needed a spandex lining?! (we could only hope dollywood's water ride department) regardless, it seems as if that conversation was neither well placed, well planned, nor well received.
again, as an over talker myself i know the temptation to be a goober. i know it is hard to stop yourself once your mouth is open and words are in progress. i know it is so easy to blurt a response. but i also know it is not always smart...and well, i always want to seem smart :)
so here's to the ladies who talk to loud in public--no we don't care what you ate for lunch or who you ate with, but we'll get over it. here's to the gals who can't keep a secret--secretly, we love all the information you share and would never admit to being closet busy bodies. here's to the females who must have the last word--we know it's a sickness and really you can't help it. and here's to the gals who tell way too much--please know chafing is never an appropriate subject for public places. and, chances are, the details of your child's birth, your recent stomach bug, the surprise romantic weekend, or your recent trip to the lady doctor are also not appropriate topics for the waiting area at your (or someone else's) local cafe.

p.s. jorts are so 1986...please have your husband return them to the decade in which he found them. bless his heart.

now you sir are a rare bird

so i recently went to have my car serviced. you know the routine oil change, tire rotation, alignment, brake inspection...the standard 2 hour activity. well, as i walk into the waiting area (complete with a gumball and runts machine) i notice that there is not an empty seat in the house. bummer.
why were so many people getting oil changes on this particular day? the answer is this...there weren't all that many people. however, when there is limited seating it fills up fast...especially when people are rude. much to my astonishment as i was standing in the open area near the bathrooms and taking a survey of the room i observed one man on his ipad taking up two seats (one for his butt and one for his bag), another man with a baby taking two seats (one for he and the baby and one for the carrier), and another man taking up two seats (one for his butt and one as a desk). a room full of men (and one sweet little me) and not a one of them cared that they had left a female standing by the bathroom. now, where i come from, that is unacceptable.
just as i was about to take my place in the middle of the room to preach about chilavry and common decency one little who in the corner looked up from his book. the youngest man in the room stood up. he abruptly moved and called across the room for me. he not only offered his seat, but he offered an apology as well! what?! he apologized for not offering a seat sooner and noted that he was embarassed he waited so long. (honestly it wasn't long at all but his production was just so kind i hated to interrupt him).
as the youngest man in the room insisted that i sit in his seat every other man in the room squirmed. bags and computers were cleared out of seats in rapid fashion...too little too late.
now, i believe in women's rights. i believe that women can do anything they want to do. i believe that women are strong and capable. i believe that i am no less valuable than any man. however, i also believe in being a gentleman and likewise, a lady.
the youngest male in the room set a rather pointed example. the youngest male in the room thought it mattered how he treated women. the youngest male in the room showed up all the other curmudgens with one swift move. and the only female in the room was so appreciative she just nearly invited him to dinner.
so here's to the guys who are willing to stand for a girl...thank you. here's to the guys who still know the value of being a gentleman...it's always in style. here's to the guys who plan to raise their sons to be respectful...their mommas will be so proud. and here's to the guy who gave me a seat...that little move made you the most attractive male in the room.

you say you are a parent?

just earlier today i encountered one of the single most disturbing fashion concepts ever. now brace yourself...squeaky shoes. yes, that's right, shoes that squeak on purpose. now this sounds far fetched, but i assure you this was a legit shoe. who, you ask, would wear such a shoe? a three year old little girl is the answer you are seeking, and when you hear why i hope that you (like i was) will be appalled.
now, my first thought was "get that sweet little girl some new tennis shoes!" (as it was clear to me that the bubble in the heel of her nike air max was busted) however, when i exclaimed "oh my that's a loud little sneaker?!" i was told, i know they're supposed to be like that. "WHY??!!" i asked. the response, so she doesn't get lost.
now time out here. so she doesn't get lost? because your 3 year old is often on perilous adventures which could render her lost in the woods, or lost at sea, or lost in kroger which would then render you helpless because she was exploring alone without parental supervision???
really, is that the reason? no, not possible.
so after nearly having a mini-stroke in public i felt compelled to step up onto this soapbox:
i am not a parent, most of my friends are not parents, i am rarely with small children, but i am a living breathing human being with common sense and that alone affords me the right to weigh in on this victory of parenting. or rather, this lack of authority possessed my many parents.
when i was little i stayed with my parents in all situations. how did i know to do so?? because, a. i did what i was told and b. if i didn't there would have been consequences (and i was not interested in that at all). i imagine that there would have been a swat on the rear. there would have been a toy taken away. i would have heard the stern voice that my dad used when he was really mad (which tended to be far worse than any punishment he could have dreamed up). the long and short of this story is that i wasn't given the option to roam freely. i wasn't in charge of making the decisions at my house, and i didn't dispute that fact.
now i am not saying that my parents were superior to other parents...they were just superior to the ones who couldn't seem to remember where their children were. and i feel sure that my parents didn't ride the extreme wave of the helicopter parent. rather, they were just "around."
these stinking squeaky shoes irritated the pee out of me not because the kid was running around making more noise than a tickle me elmo, but simply because of what it says about the thought process of many parents. I simply can't understand the extreme lack of parental instinct. people who are intelligent, well-rounded, and travelled are running around with squeaky shoe kid for the simple reason that "watching" her would be too difficult and taxing. this 3 year old has a built in alarm because it would be too time consuming to hold her hand. she has shoes that sound like dog toys because her parents can't trust themselves to remember she exists. she is forced to annoy not only herself, but also everyone around her, so her parents can multi-task. sad.
so i make a plea to parents. please step up and be responsible for your children. please make your kids a high priority. please do not tempt them to run away from you to find greener pastures. and please please please make the decision when you are making a baby (or before) to love them so much that you wouldn't dream of losing them like your high school ring or the mystery dryer sock. this is not much to ask and i assure you it is not hard. you find your car keys and the remote without having to install a beeping tracking device... and last time i checked the kids are much bigger.
so, here's to parents, you have a tough job. here's to the parents who would love a nap but can't because your kid is on the swing set with the neighbor kid. here's to the parents who returned the baby leash they received at the shower because it just looks silly. here's to the parents who sleep with one eye open in case the boogy man shows up in the middle of the night. and here's to the parents who buy their kids plain jane quiet shoes...you may not hear them but you would never forget they are there.

yes, i would love to hold

i feel like some days i spend the better part of my in office hours holding my phone to my face...not actually talking...but rather listening to the smooth sounds of the hold button. which to be quiet honest, gets on my nerves. when did we decide as a society that we would accept a 15 minute hold? when did we decide that it was ok to schedule 30 minutes of time to have a 30 second conversation? and better yet, when did we decide that other people were so unimportant that we show no remorse for stealing valuable minutes of their life so that we can fiddle fart around and warm up to the idea of picking up the phone and listening to their concern? clearly, i do not find this amusing.
i recently made 4 different phone calls to talk to one person who then told me they were not really sure who i should talk to. mind you, these 4 calls took nearly 8 hours. with each call i repeated the same pattern: dial, listen to menu, choose a department, wait in line once i was transferred to the department, say hello to someone i don't understand, share my concern, hear a long pause, then be told i was not calling the right place. (repeat times 4...however, the 4th try ends with 'well i don't know who handles that.')
is it my imagination or did i at one part in my life make a phone call, talk to a human who was sincerely helpful, hold for 1 minute in the event that that human needed to transfer me to another human, resolve an issue, hang up? i feel in my heart that this used to happen. and you know what, it was wonderful. i used to think that people cared about other individuals, that people listened to concerns, and that people cared enough about their jobs that they wanted to do it to the best of their ability.
now i know that there are a few phone warriors out there who take their jobs seriously and work hard to make people happy. i know this, i just don't know them personally. so for now i reckon i will continue to hold. continue to stew. and continue to share my concerns over and over and over until someone hears my southern english and responds in kind.

why, thank you, i needed that...

so i know that a proper lady sends thank you cards. i have ranted about the lack of proper ladies lately. i know that you don't look a gift horse in the mouth. i know that you fake love the ugly socks in your stocking. i know this cause i was raised right. but i've always wondered if there was a limit to how much faking you could do when the gift was just so shocking that your brain didn't have time to fake and could only go "good golly what the poo?"
this happened to me recently. i got a box of books delivered to me at work. used books that an older man's daughter had used but no longer needed. books he thought he would pass along to me just in case i could use them...for the youth or something. upon closer inspection of the items i wondered...were these really intended for my 14 year olds??

now, like i said, i know how to respond to any gift. people bring me old food, notepads and pens they've stolen from doctor's offices, rocks, socks, and coin purses. for real, work in a church and you too can be showered with gifts from the elderly. but, never in all of my days have i gotten books about how to land a man. this is for sure the best gift i've ever gotten because by george not only is it thoughtful...it's so useful!
i have often wondered why people assume that i would never choose my single life. people seem to think that it must be the result of something bad i've done in a previous life, or that i am secretly a nun, or that i have such low self-esteem that i couldn't possibly be in a productive relationship. well, folks, let me address these completely logical trains of thought.
1. i like being single.
now, do i intend to be single sara forever, no. but, right now it works and i don't intend to force a change.
2. i don't believe in past lives...thus i can not possibly be punnished for one.
3. i think i am pretty freaking great. i am smart, employeed, clean, crafty, financially stable, a wee bit witty, and juggling all these sweet traits with a non-offensive demeanor. i call that winning...not death by solitude.
4. i do like nuns a lot. i do not intend to be one. the shoes are terrible.
so all that said i would like to say that while the books were so terribly kind (i know it would make my life easier if i had a big strong man around the house to kill bugs, open jars, and reach the top shelf) please do not assume a fundamental part of my life is missing because i am able to manage perfectly with a one car garage. please do not assume that i am broken hearted and sad because i have to rsvp 1 to special events. please do not be nervous on my behalf that my biological clock may explode before i ever start trying to make babies. please don't worry about my house being invaded by woman eating insects, i pay a bug guy. and please, know that i can open my own jars...i have a gripper thing that has never let me down.
so here's to the single ladies who fight off set-ups like it's their full-time job. here's to the single ladies who mow their own yards (i don't but i know some of you do). here's to the single ladies who have managed to find meaning in their pitiful, lonely, unnatural lives. and here's to all the people who think we would give our right arm to change it all...oops. you're bad.

we don't do that here.

i love gatherings. i plan parties for fun. i buy dresses (on sale of course) just in case something comes up. i love it. coco chanel said once that "some girls were born with glitter in their veins" and i like to think that i am one of them. life is more fun when it sparkles.
that said, i can also be a big bucket of no fun if i want to be. another lovely lady i try to be at least a wee bit like is emily post, who said "etiquette is the science of living." she is right. there is a lot to be said for a glittery and gracious gal. i (naturally) am a fine example--if i do say so myself (kidding. gracious and braggadocious do not go hand in hand--i am aware).
anyway, why bother caring about being fun and sensible? why bother party planning and thank you note sending? why care what other people think of your behavior?
well, i'll tell you why, because if you don't you will spend quality time looking like a giant boob in front of your friends. because if you throw great parties and then act a fool people won't come back. because if you can't dress yourself appropriately for the town gala then you will be "that girl" for an undisclosed period of time.
regardless of how laid back my generation is or how open we are...we are crazy judgemental. case and point...this blog. people may say that they are super chill and super fun loving, but no one wants to look like a loser. no one wants to throw a shower and then not get invited to the event. no one wants to go to a wedding and then stand the whole ceremony because you decided to cheap out on seating. no one wants to drive to your birthday dinner and then find out no one bothered to make reservations for a party of 30 in advance. i mean let's be real...we expect things and when the expectations are not met...we tell everyone we know that your butt looked huge, the venue smelled like feet, the food was cold, and the drinks were (ugh) well. (none of which are compliments)
i have gone to weddings, taken gifts, driven across the state, and never received a thank you note. i have attended funerals in which an immediate family member showed up in a yellow leisure suit (this is to scary to be a lie). i have gone to fundraisers and watched people stumble around and lose a part of their anatomy from the top of their far to low cut dress. i have gone to weddings and watched people sneak out full bottles of wine from the bar, in turn, running up the bride's families tab. i have been to parties where the host didn't show up on time. for real.
i know what you are thinking...who the crap are your friends? the answer to that is, the people pointing and laughing at your attention grabbing but not so chanel fabulous behavior. all from our safe table of judgement, glitter, and poise...of course.
so here's to the people who think they are owed your presence and feel no need to thank you for your kindness. here's to the town drunks who may honestly not give a rip that they look a fool. here's to the party planners without a plan. and here's to me, who knows we don't do that here.

please sit still

i know this will sound so hateful, but i do not care.
please, parents, demand good behavior of your children. you are in charge (or so i thought).
it is so exhausting to go to dinner (like i just did) and fight to talk to the people at the table with you because a little boy insists on driving his hot wheel car (complete with sound effects) around the back of the booth we share. he was an adorable little boy. but he was rude. now i know that children are impulsive and that they really only know what is right and wrong based on what they have been taught. so, i can only assume that his parents had not told him that it is inappropriate to drive your hot wheels truck on a strangers seat. and even more i can only assume that he does not know that to eat your dinner you have to be facing your table. and even more than that i can only assume that his parents were not taught these things either seeing as how they were unalarmed by this display of disruptive behavior.
now i'm not trying to be a scrooge. i love children. i work with and for children. i want to see kids grow and learn and flourish. however, just because i love kids and work with them does not mean that i am capable of brushing off bad behavior as a phase, exploration, or creativity. these excuses are just that, excuses. and specifically they are excuses that parents make for failing to control their offspring and that is not the offsprings fault. i'll explain.
in my house, as a kid, i believed in my heart that my mom and dad were in charge. i believed that if i acted a fool then i would have to answer for that behavior and it could only end badly for me. i also believed that i better be good or santa would withold gifts. (fair threat...i was a saint for most of november and december without fail). now, i must add, my parents did not practice the art of spanking. a swat on the hand was about the bulk of physical touble. that said, i still behaved. not 100% of the time, but enough that i typically avoided run-ins with punnishment. and the few times i remember getting in the MOST touble was for showing my true colors in public or at someone else's house. i knew the moment i acted out that the day would end badly, but sometimes a girl just has to pitch a little fit when her bulky and unattractive snow boots do not match the frilly pink dress she has planned to sport at sears. and bulky napolean dynamite boots don't just ruin the getting ready process but all other things tied to the day.
back on track, i knew how to act. i knew when i was goofing up. i knew that i better do like i was taught. and i never lived in fear, just a healthy dose of respect. so parents, call up tim and della. ask for tips (ask my dad...you'll never get my mom off the phone). ask how they managed to love their children while also delivering dicipline. better yet call me up and ask how i have faired as an adult in light of knowing that my parents never allowed me to express my creativity by singing loudly in the movie theater. ask how i ever became a productive member of society knowing that my parents never allowed exploration without their consent.
parents, you're in charge. love your kids completely by teaching them how to function while taking direction. love them in a huge way by teaching them to respect themselves and those around them. love them whole heartedly by having honest conversations and addressing the fact that not every activity is positive. and remember, i don't have kids and would rather not share my mellow mushroom pizza with yours.