To: All You Whiners (you know who you are)
From: The Blogger
Re: Frequency of Posts
The thing you have to understand is the purpose of my blog and the not purpose of my blog. The purpose of the blog is to write/organize/share my thoughts. In order to do that several things have to happen.
The first thing is that some event, either experienced first hand or read about, has to occur. Then that event has to catch my attention and get me thinking. This next step is what takes so long. Once I start thinking, I often have to ponder and "perc" on the subject for awhile. The more political/theological/social/emotional the subject, the longer I have to think. (If the topic is purely humor, then it's best if I just sit down in the moment and pound the thing out. I'm pretty sure that over thinking would kill the humor for me.) Once I've really settled on what my point is, then I need to find a few, or actually many, uninterrupted minutes to craft the thing. I can't do it while I'm making dinner or whatever. I need solid blocks of time. Unfortunately, those solid blocks are in hot demand. People in my house actually think that I should pay attention to them and give them solid blocks of time as well.
Sadly, there are also a few obstacles that can pop up along the way. Sometimes I get in a funk and all my thoughts are dark and stormy. I don't mind posting on a few of those topics, but after awhile it gets to be even too much for me. Then I have to wait around until the sun comes back out. Depending on lots of things, that can sometimes take a really long time.
The not purpose of my blog is to update you on my life. My life is boring and uninteresting. I like it that way. I love what I do with my time, but I'm pretty sure that it doesn't make a riveting read. I like to play with words and ways of saying things, but I have to be inspired to do it. The every day moments of my life only inspire me occasionally- when they get me thinking about some larger idea. Posting the news is not for me.
I love you my most faithful blog readers, and you whiners are actually the most faithful. I think that is called by the name of, "irony," and irony is something that I also love.
Very Sincerely,
tonia
the blogger
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Business Plan
You know what would be a great idea? If Victoria Secret opened a bar in their store. I was actually at Kohl's tonight so that wouldn't have really helped me. Then again, if Vic's had bar, I might have gone there instead. After all, I had to walk right by there, or slink by as the case may be.
Back to Kohl's. I really could have used a drink when I discovered that Kohl's no longer carries the bras that I like. As in, I like them so well that I have been buying them for years and, here's the best part, don't even need to try them on! Now, I was wandering in the carnival fun house that is the intimates section. At least I was alone, no kids, no perky cast member telling me lies. Speaking of which, if I were at Vic's and they did have a bar, I'd have had to make it a double at this point.
Which brings me to, well, to me, and my doubles. "The Girls," I like to call 'em. I have strict rules for The Girls. They must not jiggle around; they must stay inside their designated area, no oozing out and creating what looks to be four of them; no touching each other or the chest below them; that creates a creepy, sweating feeling. That's it. Three simple rules; I don't think I'm asking too much here.
There are a lot of brands to choose from at Kohl's, and each brand has a lot of styles and a lot of promises. Most cannot deliver on those promises unless you have the kind of chest that doesn't actually need their product in the first place. I also noticed that those are the sizes that get cute, fun, sexy bras. Once you get into the sizes for the "must haves," there's a more serious tone. What is up with that? See why a fortyish woman who has nursed three babies and hasn't been a "nearly" size in many a year might be wanting a drink?!
And now we come to The Wonderbra. (If I knew how to make that little trademark symbol here I would, because that is what it is actually called, but maybe you knew that.) I'd heard of the Wonderbra and I was intrigued. Frankly, The Girls have been slipping lately, if you know what I mean. Also, it came in black, which I have been wanting for a while, and in my size, but with out four inch wide straps and three hooks in the back. It was almost cute.
I took it to the dressing room and disrobed for the fourth time tonight. (Again, a margarita would go a long way here.) I put the bra on and turned to the mirror. Pretty good, but unfamiliar looking. I pulled my skinny t-shirt back on over it. (That's one of my tests that I always do, that and jumping up and down.) Sister. Mary. Francis. I have not seen my chest in that formation in about twenty years, ok, fifteen, whatever. They were standing right out there at high attention for all the world to be awed by. If you didn't look at my face, or lift up the shirt and see the post child belly, you'd have thought I was 20 again. I turned and got the side view. Nice. Back to the front. Still nice. I pondered. I debated. I changed back into my clothes. Should a fortyish woman try to look twenty? Is that ridiculous?
I put the bra on the I-guess-I-don't-really-need-this rack. I headed out the door.
Less than 10 steps later I turned around and grabbed the bra and some matching panties.
Now I'm home with them and thinking I'm pretty sure I'll look good and feel good when I wear them, but I'm even more certain that, right now, I still need a drink.
Back to Kohl's. I really could have used a drink when I discovered that Kohl's no longer carries the bras that I like. As in, I like them so well that I have been buying them for years and, here's the best part, don't even need to try them on! Now, I was wandering in the carnival fun house that is the intimates section. At least I was alone, no kids, no perky cast member telling me lies. Speaking of which, if I were at Vic's and they did have a bar, I'd have had to make it a double at this point.
Which brings me to, well, to me, and my doubles. "The Girls," I like to call 'em. I have strict rules for The Girls. They must not jiggle around; they must stay inside their designated area, no oozing out and creating what looks to be four of them; no touching each other or the chest below them; that creates a creepy, sweating feeling. That's it. Three simple rules; I don't think I'm asking too much here.
There are a lot of brands to choose from at Kohl's, and each brand has a lot of styles and a lot of promises. Most cannot deliver on those promises unless you have the kind of chest that doesn't actually need their product in the first place. I also noticed that those are the sizes that get cute, fun, sexy bras. Once you get into the sizes for the "must haves," there's a more serious tone. What is up with that? See why a fortyish woman who has nursed three babies and hasn't been a "nearly" size in many a year might be wanting a drink?!
And now we come to The Wonderbra. (If I knew how to make that little trademark symbol here I would, because that is what it is actually called, but maybe you knew that.) I'd heard of the Wonderbra and I was intrigued. Frankly, The Girls have been slipping lately, if you know what I mean. Also, it came in black, which I have been wanting for a while, and in my size, but with out four inch wide straps and three hooks in the back. It was almost cute.
I took it to the dressing room and disrobed for the fourth time tonight. (Again, a margarita would go a long way here.) I put the bra on and turned to the mirror. Pretty good, but unfamiliar looking. I pulled my skinny t-shirt back on over it. (That's one of my tests that I always do, that and jumping up and down.) Sister. Mary. Francis. I have not seen my chest in that formation in about twenty years, ok, fifteen, whatever. They were standing right out there at high attention for all the world to be awed by. If you didn't look at my face, or lift up the shirt and see the post child belly, you'd have thought I was 20 again. I turned and got the side view. Nice. Back to the front. Still nice. I pondered. I debated. I changed back into my clothes. Should a fortyish woman try to look twenty? Is that ridiculous?
I put the bra on the I-guess-I-don't-really-need-this rack. I headed out the door.
Less than 10 steps later I turned around and grabbed the bra and some matching panties.
Now I'm home with them and thinking I'm pretty sure I'll look good and feel good when I wear them, but I'm even more certain that, right now, I still need a drink.
Monday, February 16, 2009
My 100th Post!
100 feels like it should get some special attention. We all do that with different 100s. First graders even celebrate the 100th day of school, which I would never do because it just serves to remind you that you're only just past half way and it absolutely feels like you should be much farther along. But I digress- imagine that. 100th anniversaries of things are always big events. I think that means we all have a little Monk inside us.
In honor of my 100th post, I'd just like to share what I've gotten out of blogging:
*A big head; people tell me all the time that I'm funny and smart. I'm not sure I'm fit company anymore.
*An idea of what I think about things. I often don't realize what my point is exactly until I'm midway through a post. Then I have that "Aha! I didn't realize that I thought or felt quite that way exactly!"
*Back in touch with old friends. Most of them realize that their worst fears are confirmed; I haven't changed a whole lot. Also, if I weren't on blogger I might not have found the blogs of some far flung friends and family, and I'm really enjoying their stories as well.
*A weight off my chest. When you're as opinionated as I am and not good enough to write for publication, the weight of all those ideas can really bring you down. I find that there are many things that I don't stew about like I before I posted them.
*I feel like there should be a fifth one. It's so much more round and goes so nicely with 100. Then again 100 is divisible by four into nice neat quarters, so I guess I can leave it at that.
In honor of my 100th post, I'd just like to share what I've gotten out of blogging:
*A big head; people tell me all the time that I'm funny and smart. I'm not sure I'm fit company anymore.
*An idea of what I think about things. I often don't realize what my point is exactly until I'm midway through a post. Then I have that "Aha! I didn't realize that I thought or felt quite that way exactly!"
*Back in touch with old friends. Most of them realize that their worst fears are confirmed; I haven't changed a whole lot. Also, if I weren't on blogger I might not have found the blogs of some far flung friends and family, and I'm really enjoying their stories as well.
*A weight off my chest. When you're as opinionated as I am and not good enough to write for publication, the weight of all those ideas can really bring you down. I find that there are many things that I don't stew about like I before I posted them.
*I feel like there should be a fifth one. It's so much more round and goes so nicely with 100. Then again 100 is divisible by four into nice neat quarters, so I guess I can leave it at that.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
BlackBerry Life
I was reading an article in Newsweek about the cognitive challenges of using a Blackberry. The constant interruptions while working make you less productive, impair your memory, and also impair your ability to make decisions.
The point of this was hammered home for me as I was interrupted no less than 25 times while reading the article, not by my BlackBerry; I don't have one, but rather by my two lovely daughters. I had the hardest time keeping track of where I was in the article and what the thread of the story was.
My whole life can be like that; school is the same way. Some mornings and most afternoons I have a hard time getting attendance taken because I have to walk diagonally through my classroom to get from the door to the computer, opening me to at least 12 interruptions. I'm so stressed about always having the secretary need to call or email me about the afternoon attendance, that I've even started dreaming about it! And don't get me started about the phone ringing during my lessons!
I have been known to have an emotional breakdown in my kitchen because not only can I not complete any one task without interruption, but often I am not allowed to complete any one thought. I might be on the verge of some great world saving invention, but we'll never know because I can't finish the- !
I love my technology. I often can't decide which I like better, my ipod or my DVR. I am clearly not a technophobe or a Luddite, but I'm going on record right now: I don't see myself ever getting a BlackBerry. Three children, one husband, one dog, twenty-five students, and assorted family, co-workers and friends are all the BlackBerry that I can handle.
The point of this was hammered home for me as I was interrupted no less than 25 times while reading the article, not by my BlackBerry; I don't have one, but rather by my two lovely daughters. I had the hardest time keeping track of where I was in the article and what the thread of the story was.
My whole life can be like that; school is the same way. Some mornings and most afternoons I have a hard time getting attendance taken because I have to walk diagonally through my classroom to get from the door to the computer, opening me to at least 12 interruptions. I'm so stressed about always having the secretary need to call or email me about the afternoon attendance, that I've even started dreaming about it! And don't get me started about the phone ringing during my lessons!
I have been known to have an emotional breakdown in my kitchen because not only can I not complete any one task without interruption, but often I am not allowed to complete any one thought. I might be on the verge of some great world saving invention, but we'll never know because I can't finish the- !
I love my technology. I often can't decide which I like better, my ipod or my DVR. I am clearly not a technophobe or a Luddite, but I'm going on record right now: I don't see myself ever getting a BlackBerry. Three children, one husband, one dog, twenty-five students, and assorted family, co-workers and friends are all the BlackBerry that I can handle.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Rescession Proof
I was in the post office on Thursday and I overheard a snatch of a conversation about the recession. The customer's business was being affected by changes in the postal system that were being caused by the recession according to the postal worker. I'm not sure why I had this epiphany right at that second, but suddenly I had an idea for a recession proof job.
It doesn't require any special schooling fortunately, but having some sure doesn't hurt. It doesn't require and special skills or talents either. You work with what God gave you and you fudge the rest. Another plus to this job is that it can be REALLY fun to get into, but not always. Sometimes you have to go through quite a few hoops to land the position, but once you have it, it's yours. You have to be shockingly bad at it before they'll fire you.
The hours on this job can be kind of rough, but if you're employed, should you really be complaining? It's also not uncommon for people in this position to find themselves completely unappreciated in one moment and then lavished with praise only a moment later. It can really give you whiplash. You can go from wanting to run away, quit and change your name, to marveling that God would find you worthy of the position. It keeps you humble at any rate.
Sadly, you might not find this recession proofness of this job all that comforting; it doesn't pay a dime! Welcome to motherhood!
It doesn't require any special schooling fortunately, but having some sure doesn't hurt. It doesn't require and special skills or talents either. You work with what God gave you and you fudge the rest. Another plus to this job is that it can be REALLY fun to get into, but not always. Sometimes you have to go through quite a few hoops to land the position, but once you have it, it's yours. You have to be shockingly bad at it before they'll fire you.
The hours on this job can be kind of rough, but if you're employed, should you really be complaining? It's also not uncommon for people in this position to find themselves completely unappreciated in one moment and then lavished with praise only a moment later. It can really give you whiplash. You can go from wanting to run away, quit and change your name, to marveling that God would find you worthy of the position. It keeps you humble at any rate.
Sadly, you might not find this recession proofness of this job all that comforting; it doesn't pay a dime! Welcome to motherhood!
Friday, February 13, 2009
Further Evidence That I Am Backwards From Other People
Today is Friday the 13th. Today is Friday the 13th in what are already dark and troubled times. Today is Friday the 13th at the tail end of an incredibly busy week and at the start of an incredibly busy weekend.
And yet.
This morning I found 10 dollars in my pants pocket.
I found all the tiny items that I need for Rachel's Valent-tiny party.
The Orkin guy came early, gave us a clean bill of health and got out of here in time for me to go to they Y and squeeze in a workout before Kindergarten pick up time.
My outgoing email, which was torture last night, was resolved today with the ease of a Cullen driving a Merecedes. (ed. note to tonia- not everyone knows who the Cullens are! tonia's note to editor and others- it means it was fast and perfectly executed; I'm sorry you still haven't read Twilight.)
All of Abby's shows that had been lost with the switching of the dvrs were replaced by the time she wanted to watch one with her lunch. She waits all week for this privilege, it would have been very sad.
I'm getting to actually post on my blog (almost without interruption; here comes Ab)for the first time in ages.
And best of all, tonight is Rose's Buds' Sleepover Valentine party!
And yet.
This morning I found 10 dollars in my pants pocket.
I found all the tiny items that I need for Rachel's Valent-tiny party.
The Orkin guy came early, gave us a clean bill of health and got out of here in time for me to go to they Y and squeeze in a workout before Kindergarten pick up time.
My outgoing email, which was torture last night, was resolved today with the ease of a Cullen driving a Merecedes. (ed. note to tonia- not everyone knows who the Cullens are! tonia's note to editor and others- it means it was fast and perfectly executed; I'm sorry you still haven't read Twilight.)
All of Abby's shows that had been lost with the switching of the dvrs were replaced by the time she wanted to watch one with her lunch. She waits all week for this privilege, it would have been very sad.
I'm getting to actually post on my blog (almost without interruption; here comes Ab)for the first time in ages.
And best of all, tonight is Rose's Buds' Sleepover Valentine party!
Thursday, February 5, 2009
What Would You Have Done?
I took a class with Kent Dobson in January at Mars Hill. It was about dualistic thinking. I know, just want every girl wants to get into! Luckily, I'm not Every Girl!
According to Kent you can't really know if you would have come in on the side of right at various times in history. His example was the civil rights movement of the 60s. You don't really know if you would have been on the side of equal rights for all. You might have picked the side of the status quo.
Mostly, I think Kent is right; you can't know. On the other hand, I think there are some things that you can look at in your life right now that might give you a hint.
Going back to the example of the Civil Rights Movement, I think you can take an educated guess as to how you would have chosen then by how important not rocking the boat is to you right now. Is it important to you to do socially correct things that socially correct people do? Do you have an image that depends on only associating with the right people?
When I was younger I went through a Holocaust obsession phase. I always imagined that I would be the sort of person who would hide Jews. My parent raised me to see the Jews as God's Chosen People and to do what is right regardless of what is going on around you. Yet despite that, I think I would have been a "bad" German. I'm very afraid of getting in trouble with those in authority. I really don't like to do what is illegal. I think I used up all my "bucking the system" strength in my early days.
I have a little hope that I might have chose the side of good because I also hate to do what is immoral, but would the difference have been as clear to me then as it is now?
In most ways is doesn't matter what you would have done if you lived in the past because you can never find out, but I believe spending time imagining it can give you some insight into a better way to live now. There is still plenty of injustice to fight and plenty of good sides to choose. Oftentimes it's just a matter of risking one's own discomfort, and the choosing or not choosing to that is awfully revealing.
According to Kent you can't really know if you would have come in on the side of right at various times in history. His example was the civil rights movement of the 60s. You don't really know if you would have been on the side of equal rights for all. You might have picked the side of the status quo.
Mostly, I think Kent is right; you can't know. On the other hand, I think there are some things that you can look at in your life right now that might give you a hint.
Going back to the example of the Civil Rights Movement, I think you can take an educated guess as to how you would have chosen then by how important not rocking the boat is to you right now. Is it important to you to do socially correct things that socially correct people do? Do you have an image that depends on only associating with the right people?
When I was younger I went through a Holocaust obsession phase. I always imagined that I would be the sort of person who would hide Jews. My parent raised me to see the Jews as God's Chosen People and to do what is right regardless of what is going on around you. Yet despite that, I think I would have been a "bad" German. I'm very afraid of getting in trouble with those in authority. I really don't like to do what is illegal. I think I used up all my "bucking the system" strength in my early days.
I have a little hope that I might have chose the side of good because I also hate to do what is immoral, but would the difference have been as clear to me then as it is now?
In most ways is doesn't matter what you would have done if you lived in the past because you can never find out, but I believe spending time imagining it can give you some insight into a better way to live now. There is still plenty of injustice to fight and plenty of good sides to choose. Oftentimes it's just a matter of risking one's own discomfort, and the choosing or not choosing to that is awfully revealing.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Joan of Arc I Am Not
A friend of mine made a comment yesterday that really got me thinking, and since Abby is home sick, you get to mull over my thoughts with me.
I made the observation at lunch time yesterday that the downside to my decision to quit making Sunday Dinner is that there are no leftovers for Monday's lunch.
"You don't make Sunday Dinner?!" came two shocked replies.
"Not anymore," I answered, "I found that I was getting bitter and resentful as I worked away in the kitchen all afternoon and everyone else enjoyed the relaxations of their choice."
"But you're the Mom! That's what you're supposed to do. That's what I spend every holiday doing," one of the earlier repliers said.
"No, I'm not supposed to, unless I want to," I continued. "After all, nobody likes a martyr. I cook for them often enough the rest of the week. They are all very well fed."
I pondered away on that conversation the rest of yesterday and on into today. Part of our difference of opinion is probably that I came of age in the 70's and she in the 50's. Part of the difference is also our personalities. This friend works very hard to always be good enough, to be worthy. I'd like to be good enough, but I'm usually to lazy to work at it.
Please notice that I'm using the word, "be" here. We both work very hard to DO good, high quality work. Our work ethics are very equal and we each appreciate the other's commitment to teaching and learning. The difference between us is that I'm less inclined, although not completely immune, to determine my own intrinsic value by how hard I work for others.
I think children believe themselves to be valuable just because they exist. I think that when we were all children we also believed that we were valuable just for existing. Somewhere along the line that belief gets shaken, and it gets shaken more in some than in others.
I don't know if it's all women, or just Moms who are particularly susceptible to needing to martyr themselves in order to be worthy. Also, I don't think that everyone seeks to prove their worth through martyrdom. Some people seek to prove their worth by beauty or position. Either way, it seems destructive to me.
For certain, I haven't found the way to be content just to be loved by my Creator and tickled pink by His delight in me. I haven't figured out exactly what it is that I try to do to prove that I have value.
Maybe it's blogging.
I made the observation at lunch time yesterday that the downside to my decision to quit making Sunday Dinner is that there are no leftovers for Monday's lunch.
"You don't make Sunday Dinner?!" came two shocked replies.
"Not anymore," I answered, "I found that I was getting bitter and resentful as I worked away in the kitchen all afternoon and everyone else enjoyed the relaxations of their choice."
"But you're the Mom! That's what you're supposed to do. That's what I spend every holiday doing," one of the earlier repliers said.
"No, I'm not supposed to, unless I want to," I continued. "After all, nobody likes a martyr. I cook for them often enough the rest of the week. They are all very well fed."
I pondered away on that conversation the rest of yesterday and on into today. Part of our difference of opinion is probably that I came of age in the 70's and she in the 50's. Part of the difference is also our personalities. This friend works very hard to always be good enough, to be worthy. I'd like to be good enough, but I'm usually to lazy to work at it.
Please notice that I'm using the word, "be" here. We both work very hard to DO good, high quality work. Our work ethics are very equal and we each appreciate the other's commitment to teaching and learning. The difference between us is that I'm less inclined, although not completely immune, to determine my own intrinsic value by how hard I work for others.
I think children believe themselves to be valuable just because they exist. I think that when we were all children we also believed that we were valuable just for existing. Somewhere along the line that belief gets shaken, and it gets shaken more in some than in others.
I don't know if it's all women, or just Moms who are particularly susceptible to needing to martyr themselves in order to be worthy. Also, I don't think that everyone seeks to prove their worth through martyrdom. Some people seek to prove their worth by beauty or position. Either way, it seems destructive to me.
For certain, I haven't found the way to be content just to be loved by my Creator and tickled pink by His delight in me. I haven't figured out exactly what it is that I try to do to prove that I have value.
Maybe it's blogging.
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