Notice:
If I'm going to finish that blasted novel by the end of next month, when my mother comes to visit, I'm going to have to spend pretty much all my computer time working on it. So I'll be a little scarce in the blogworld for a bit. Don't give up on me -- I'll drop in as often as I can.
Question:
I'm reading a name book called "The Baby Name Survey Book." (My question is not, "Isn't that a surprise?") The premise of the book is that it tells you what people actually think of each name, in their very own words. Their very own words are, for the most part, "This name makes me think of somebody snobby and selfish." What I've noticed -- and I'm getting to my question here, for anyone still hanging around -- is that for girl names they like, those surveyed almost always identify her as "blond." Sometimes you get a redhead, and occasionally a brunette. But for the most part, the nice girls are blond.
So, my question! What is your default image of someone nice? For instance, when you read a blog you like. If there's no picture to clue you in, do you imagine the blogger as blond or dark-haired? I almost always assume someone is dark-haired. I know a whole lot more dark-haired people than blond people. How do you imagine me? Naturally -- you'd say red-haired, dazzling green eyes, cute turned-up nose, light dusting of freckles. At least, all of you who have been reading romance novels lately.
(P.S. -- I have short brown hair, glasses, and a dimple when I smile.)
Friday, February 22, 2008
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
The Weirdness of Mairzy
Desperate Housewife, who appears to have reached a well-adjusted adulthood despite her childhood quirks, :) tagged me for this meme. I could put as my first item that I'm lazy about links and tagging. If you read this, and haven't done it (although probably most of you have because most of my readers are from the same "neighborhood"), then consider yourself tagged.
I am to list seven weird or random facts about myself. Honestly, it's pretty difficult to come up with seven weird things. I'm so ordinary. What have I done that isn't exactly like everyone else in the world? I mean, just like all the rest of you, I:
1. ... as a child, spent summers catching grasshoppers to feed to my cats. Which kind of grasshopper did your cat like best? Mine liked the green ones.
2. ... have never been pulled over for speeding.
3. ... got my first kiss at 14 (isn't THAT a rosy memory, ugh), and then not again until I was 23. That one was for keepers.
4. ... didn't see snow until I was in fifth grade.
5. ... learned in my Deep South school that "other people pronounce 'vehicle' with a silent H, so that's why it's in your spelling list on silent letters. We don't say it that way.'"
6. ... have to have my dirty dishes arranged a certain way on the counter or otherwise go crazy looking at them.
7. ... used to confuse the word 'condiments' with another, more salacious, word. I was shocked, SHOCKED when a sign at McDonald's blatantly declared that condiments were available upon request.
So, sorry to drum in this boring list of everyday human traits and experiences. Sometimes I wish I were just a little more eccentric and not so much like everyone else!
I am to list seven weird or random facts about myself. Honestly, it's pretty difficult to come up with seven weird things. I'm so ordinary. What have I done that isn't exactly like everyone else in the world? I mean, just like all the rest of you, I:
1. ... as a child, spent summers catching grasshoppers to feed to my cats. Which kind of grasshopper did your cat like best? Mine liked the green ones.
2. ... have never been pulled over for speeding.
3. ... got my first kiss at 14 (isn't THAT a rosy memory, ugh), and then not again until I was 23. That one was for keepers.
4. ... didn't see snow until I was in fifth grade.
5. ... learned in my Deep South school that "other people pronounce 'vehicle' with a silent H, so that's why it's in your spelling list on silent letters. We don't say it that way.'"
6. ... have to have my dirty dishes arranged a certain way on the counter or otherwise go crazy looking at them.
7. ... used to confuse the word 'condiments' with another, more salacious, word. I was shocked, SHOCKED when a sign at McDonald's blatantly declared that condiments were available upon request.
So, sorry to drum in this boring list of everyday human traits and experiences. Sometimes I wish I were just a little more eccentric and not so much like everyone else!
Saturday, February 16, 2008
How August Saved Valentine's Day
We'd planned to go out Friday night. The first babysitter had to cancel (she gave us plenty of notice, bless her), so we set up another. Thursday night, Dilly developed a fever, which persisted all of Friday. So instead of a date out all by ourselves, we were stuck with an evening at home with two kids and a sick baby. The best salvage I could come up with was that August and I could go in shifts to the library. Wow, wasn't that hot romance?
August got home early, bringing with him a Target bag: "Since we can't go out for a date, I thought we'd have a date here."
He'd bought popcorn and some little York mints (it's Lent, so we're technically not eating sweets right now, but the evening seemed to allow it). To go with that, he bought us a new Scene It! game to play when the kids went to bed. Neither of us is a big movie buff, but we're both insatiable trivia geeks.
He'd found a "Luscious Dahlia" scented candle for the evening. (August: "Target's the place to go the day after Valentine's Day." Mairzy: "Oh, I knew that. I read Swistle.") And he also bought me something else -- it was black, what there was of it -- that he assured me I didn't have to accept if I wasn't in the mood... but he wouldn't mind if I were.
Despite the sick baby and canceled evening out, it turned out to be one of the most enjoyable dates we've had. Forget the roses. Bring on the popcorn!
August got home early, bringing with him a Target bag: "Since we can't go out for a date, I thought we'd have a date here."
He'd bought popcorn and some little York mints (it's Lent, so we're technically not eating sweets right now, but the evening seemed to allow it). To go with that, he bought us a new Scene It! game to play when the kids went to bed. Neither of us is a big movie buff, but we're both insatiable trivia geeks.
He'd found a "Luscious Dahlia" scented candle for the evening. (August: "Target's the place to go the day after Valentine's Day." Mairzy: "Oh, I knew that. I read Swistle.") And he also bought me something else -- it was black, what there was of it -- that he assured me I didn't have to accept if I wasn't in the mood... but he wouldn't mind if I were.
Despite the sick baby and canceled evening out, it turned out to be one of the most enjoyable dates we've had. Forget the roses. Bring on the popcorn!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Taking My Own Medicine
Today I certifiably "practiced what I preached." Because, see, there was a Valentine's party we'd said we would attend. Today, the weather was yucky and I figured it would be cancelled... but, nope, it was still on. And I didn't want to go.
I'd have to stop by the store and get snacks on the way. And -- oh yes -- Valentines for 30 kids. I hadn't told Ladybug and Titan about it so they wouldn't even know. I could tell the hostess that, um, "something came up" and I couldn't make it. Since this is a new group and the members don't know each other very well, I probably wouldn't even be missed anyway. It was easier to stay in.
But, if y'all recall, # 3 on my list was "Accept invitations." It was MY VERY OWN ADVICE.
Half an hour later, I was sitting in the van in the grocery store parking lot, scribbling names on cards for a party we were already 20 minutes late for. Once there, we didn't leave for two and a half hours: Ladybug, Titan, and even Dilly had an absolute ball. Plus, I got to meet a couple of new people, and see another friend whom I've gotten to know in the past few weeks. As we left, our arms full of Valentines, Ladybug said rapturously, "Everyone there cares for me! They all gave me Valentines!"
So, just so you know, it's good advice. Even I take it.
I'd have to stop by the store and get snacks on the way. And -- oh yes -- Valentines for 30 kids. I hadn't told Ladybug and Titan about it so they wouldn't even know. I could tell the hostess that, um, "something came up" and I couldn't make it. Since this is a new group and the members don't know each other very well, I probably wouldn't even be missed anyway. It was easier to stay in.
But, if y'all recall, # 3 on my list was "Accept invitations." It was MY VERY OWN ADVICE.
Half an hour later, I was sitting in the van in the grocery store parking lot, scribbling names on cards for a party we were already 20 minutes late for. Once there, we didn't leave for two and a half hours: Ladybug, Titan, and even Dilly had an absolute ball. Plus, I got to meet a couple of new people, and see another friend whom I've gotten to know in the past few weeks. As we left, our arms full of Valentines, Ladybug said rapturously, "Everyone there cares for me! They all gave me Valentines!"
So, just so you know, it's good advice. Even I take it.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Question
August (the introvert who nevertheless loves inviting people over) asked what I thought of inviting one of our local librarians (and her husband)for dessert. We enjoy talking with her, and would like to hear more about her recent trip to China. But, of course, we know her only through book check-outs. I'm not even sure of her name. I know Beth is a librarian, so she'd be able to imagine the situation; and as for the rest of you: Would that completely weird you out if you were invited over by someone you saw occasionally on business?
(For the record, we are a very respectable-looking family with no indications of pathological tendencies.)
(For the record, we are a very respectable-looking family with no indications of pathological tendencies.)
Sunday, February 10, 2008
How To Make Friends
or, How I Made Friends,
or, Things To Do That Will Make Making Friends Easier,
or, Lots of Advice That May or May Not Be Helpful
Every time I tried mentally organizing this post, it came out sounding like a diet-program testimonial. (Wacky coincidence, seeing as I certainly wouldn't *read* diet-program testimonials.) "I was pretty lonely, but then I applied these simple methods, and now I have friends! Tons of friends! I have to circulate a sign-up sheet to fit in all their phone calls! I have so many friends that I couldn't possibly add another until one of my current ones dies!" So as you read, please don't take it as saying that this is a foolproof and exhaustive method for dispelling loneliness. I simply jotted down a few things that have helped me make friends in my new married-with-kids life. (For instance, I don't include 'bribes to make people like you,' but that could be effective on some level).
1. Be approachable. I'm probably revealing a lot about myself here, but it seems that when we grow up and have to make friends as adults, we haven't quite left behind those junior high insecurities. And if you think you look or sound like a dork, and that the other women are going to laugh at you behind your back, then guess what? You're not going to be as welcoming to new friends as you might could be. Now, I was a member of a MOMS Club for four years, and I saw lots of junior high holdovers... including women laughing at others for being dorky. But somebody has to be the grownup, and if it's you, you'll attract the other grownups.
2. Make a date. If your acquaintance says, "We should get together and let the kids play sometime," then your answer should not be, "Yes. We need to do that." Stop. Rewind. "I'd love that! I'm free most mornings. How about next Wednesday?"
3. Accept invitations. Yes, I know, "duh" -- unless you're something of a homebody, like me, and you're a whole lot better at pity-parties than scrapbooking parties. If you are invited to lunch, a playdate, a party, then make the effort to attend. I'm a complete hypocrite, by the way: I blatantly ignored a Pampered Chef invitation last month, from someone I really like and haven't seen in months. Why? Because I hate "paying parties" and it's easier just staying home. Only you don't get as many invitations after a while...
4. Move beyond Mommy Talk. It's a grand thing to share advice, sympathy, and laughs over this bewildering adventure called motherhood. But even adventures need subplots. When you find yourself talking audibly about "pooping" in public, it's time to move the conversation to a new track. The best way to do it is to have questions in mind and work them into the conversation. For instance:
* Where are you from originally?
* What do you enjoy doing to relax?
* Books? Movies? Shows?
* How did you choose your children's names?
* What does your name mean?
* Let's talk about names, names, names
* Sorry. Got carried away there.
* But that's what happens to conversations around me, anyway. We always end up on names. Odd.
Is the idea of scripted questions corny? Yes! That's why nobody does it, and it's why you're stuck talking about potty-training week after week.
5. Invite people over. This is a sadly-neglected relic of our social past. When was the last time you got an invitation to someone's house? Well, except for a paying party, grrr. You don't have to invite people over for an all-afternoon barbecue. "Would you like to eat dinner with us? About 6:30 on Friday," works just fine. If you can't do dinner, invite them for dessert. You can have a great visit from 7:00 to 9:00, and still get to bed in time to get up for work, school, or kids tomorrow. Dessert is also a great way to invite large families over without having to fit everyone in for a meal. We hosted a family of 10 for ice cream almost effortlessly.
6. Keep in touch by email or phone. Again, I'm a hypocrite here, but only because I don't manage my time. Way too much time blogging, and not as much sending emails to non-blogging friends.
7. Converse, don't talk. I had one acquaintance, Liz, whose idea of conversation was to wait for the other person to stop talking so she could pick back up again. The friendship did not blossom.
8. Admire other people's talents, taste, and children. I don't mean you should pile on the, um, flattery to get them to like you. Instead, look for things to appreciate. It helps you step outside yourself if you notice what others do well... and it certainly doesn't hurt others' feelings, either.
As for admiring their children, the flip side of that is not to expect them to admire yours. Liz, mentioned above, could not conceive that I didn't find her child as amazing as she did. Everything he did, from smiling to gaining weight to sitting up by himself, was commented on and displayed. Did Miss Mairzy want her children admired, too? Yes, class! Did Miss Mairzy get tired of having to gush over The Wonder Child? Yes, class! It wasn't that Liz was superior about it -- she was a very good-natured person. She just forgot the cardinal rule of interaction with other moms: Only you think your child is that cute. (The friendship, I repeat, did not blossom.)
9. I did a lot of praying, which may or may not be applicable to your particular worldview.
10. And, of course, there's always the possibility that... well, she's just not that into you. But you never know till you try.
Some friendships start out with a sparkle, but even those take a couple of years to mature into deep heart friendships. Be patient, be friendly, and expect to have friends.
or, Things To Do That Will Make Making Friends Easier,
or, Lots of Advice That May or May Not Be Helpful
Every time I tried mentally organizing this post, it came out sounding like a diet-program testimonial. (Wacky coincidence, seeing as I certainly wouldn't *read* diet-program testimonials.) "I was pretty lonely, but then I applied these simple methods, and now I have friends! Tons of friends! I have to circulate a sign-up sheet to fit in all their phone calls! I have so many friends that I couldn't possibly add another until one of my current ones dies!" So as you read, please don't take it as saying that this is a foolproof and exhaustive method for dispelling loneliness. I simply jotted down a few things that have helped me make friends in my new married-with-kids life. (For instance, I don't include 'bribes to make people like you,' but that could be effective on some level).
1. Be approachable. I'm probably revealing a lot about myself here, but it seems that when we grow up and have to make friends as adults, we haven't quite left behind those junior high insecurities. And if you think you look or sound like a dork, and that the other women are going to laugh at you behind your back, then guess what? You're not going to be as welcoming to new friends as you might could be. Now, I was a member of a MOMS Club for four years, and I saw lots of junior high holdovers... including women laughing at others for being dorky. But somebody has to be the grownup, and if it's you, you'll attract the other grownups.
2. Make a date. If your acquaintance says, "We should get together and let the kids play sometime," then your answer should not be, "Yes. We need to do that." Stop. Rewind. "I'd love that! I'm free most mornings. How about next Wednesday?"
3. Accept invitations. Yes, I know, "duh" -- unless you're something of a homebody, like me, and you're a whole lot better at pity-parties than scrapbooking parties. If you are invited to lunch, a playdate, a party, then make the effort to attend. I'm a complete hypocrite, by the way: I blatantly ignored a Pampered Chef invitation last month, from someone I really like and haven't seen in months. Why? Because I hate "paying parties" and it's easier just staying home. Only you don't get as many invitations after a while...
4. Move beyond Mommy Talk. It's a grand thing to share advice, sympathy, and laughs over this bewildering adventure called motherhood. But even adventures need subplots. When you find yourself talking audibly about "pooping" in public, it's time to move the conversation to a new track. The best way to do it is to have questions in mind and work them into the conversation. For instance:
* Where are you from originally?
* What do you enjoy doing to relax?
* Books? Movies? Shows?
* How did you choose your children's names?
* What does your name mean?
* Let's talk about names, names, names
* Sorry. Got carried away there.
* But that's what happens to conversations around me, anyway. We always end up on names. Odd.
Is the idea of scripted questions corny? Yes! That's why nobody does it, and it's why you're stuck talking about potty-training week after week.
5. Invite people over. This is a sadly-neglected relic of our social past. When was the last time you got an invitation to someone's house? Well, except for a paying party, grrr. You don't have to invite people over for an all-afternoon barbecue. "Would you like to eat dinner with us? About 6:30 on Friday," works just fine. If you can't do dinner, invite them for dessert. You can have a great visit from 7:00 to 9:00, and still get to bed in time to get up for work, school, or kids tomorrow. Dessert is also a great way to invite large families over without having to fit everyone in for a meal. We hosted a family of 10 for ice cream almost effortlessly.
6. Keep in touch by email or phone. Again, I'm a hypocrite here, but only because I don't manage my time. Way too much time blogging, and not as much sending emails to non-blogging friends.
7. Converse, don't talk. I had one acquaintance, Liz, whose idea of conversation was to wait for the other person to stop talking so she could pick back up again. The friendship did not blossom.
8. Admire other people's talents, taste, and children. I don't mean you should pile on the, um, flattery to get them to like you. Instead, look for things to appreciate. It helps you step outside yourself if you notice what others do well... and it certainly doesn't hurt others' feelings, either.
As for admiring their children, the flip side of that is not to expect them to admire yours. Liz, mentioned above, could not conceive that I didn't find her child as amazing as she did. Everything he did, from smiling to gaining weight to sitting up by himself, was commented on and displayed. Did Miss Mairzy want her children admired, too? Yes, class! Did Miss Mairzy get tired of having to gush over The Wonder Child? Yes, class! It wasn't that Liz was superior about it -- she was a very good-natured person. She just forgot the cardinal rule of interaction with other moms: Only you think your child is that cute. (The friendship, I repeat, did not blossom.)
9. I did a lot of praying, which may or may not be applicable to your particular worldview.
10. And, of course, there's always the possibility that... well, she's just not that into you. But you never know till you try.
Some friendships start out with a sparkle, but even those take a couple of years to mature into deep heart friendships. Be patient, be friendly, and expect to have friends.
We Want to Know
If you haven't yet commented on the Mairzy&Swistle name discussion, then pop on over there and Inform Us. Yes, we really do think it's terribly interesting. Yes, we do discuss, at length, the ramifications of names like "Kielyn." No, whether we keep having babies just to name them isn't any of your business (OH how I wish I had the nerve to say things like that in person).
For those of you who find baby naming tedious, you can apply to Mairzy&Swistle, Inc. for all your baby-naming needs. For a reasonable fee, we can identify your style, give you options, and steer you clear of Namer's Remorse. You can pay by credit card, or negotiate your bill in chocolate and toffees.
For those of you who find baby naming tedious, you can apply to Mairzy&Swistle, Inc. for all your baby-naming needs. For a reasonable fee, we can identify your style, give you options, and steer you clear of Namer's Remorse. You can pay by credit card, or negotiate your bill in chocolate and toffees.
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