Archive for the ‘now how do you feel’ Category


October 20, 2012

Warning: this is not clever or poetic.

Yesterday I was waiting at a light and an Atlas Moving Van was in the next lane. After 23 seconds I could smell the exhaust. I inhaled deeply. I felt like I was in Pennsylvania. I liked it.



You probably shouldn’t have had kids

June 29, 2012

Hey hurried lady in Lowe’s. I heard you and I was watching you. I heard you screaming “I don’t have time for this,” over and over to your 3 year old who was crying in the parking lot.

I’m pretty sure your 3 year old heard you too, since you were screaming at him. Oh and your 6 year old definitely heard you. I could tell by the way he trotted alongside you looking worried and uncomfortable. It was clear he’d witnessed mommy’s lack of self-control before.

You know what’s lousy, besides you? Telling a kid that you ” don’t have time for this.” That’s pretty lousy because “this” means him and his inability to control the fact that he’s hot or tired or thirsty or ummm, oh right, 3 years old.

Hey hurried lady in Lowe’s, you know what else is a lousy, besides you? Yanking your kid roughly by the arm, and heaving him up in disgust like he’s a bag of feed. That’s pretty damn lousy. Do you like being treated like you’re a bag of feed? Well then neither does your kid.

I’m not Dr. Phil but I was thinking that maybe the next time your tot has a hard time controlling his emotions, you could try setting an example instead of having your own tantrum. Try listening instead of bellowing about how you didn’t get to go to the gym. Try hugs and kisses and tickles instead of brute force.

Or maybe try birth control.

Because if you think your 3 year old is a sack of feed you probably shouldn’t have had kids. And if you think going to the gym is more fun than your 3 year old you probably shouldn’t have had kids. And if  you can’t tolerate the sound of a child crying, you probably shouldn’t have had kids. And if you think you’re more important than your kid because you’re taller and weigh more you probably shouldn’t have had kids.

And if you’re just a self-centered, high maintenance, short-tempered dim witted bitch you definitely shouldn’t have had kids.

That kind of girl

August 7, 2011

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who doesn’t have to worry when her lawnmower won’t start.

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who doesn’t have to take her car for oil changes.

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who doesn’t check the price before she buys something.

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who gets her nails done.

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who orders fancy drinks that come with paper umbrellas.

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who sees the fire ants before she steps in them.

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who enjoys  a good steak

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who breaks rules.

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who attracts attention.

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who gets flowers.

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who is helpless.

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who accepts help.

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who has a messy house.

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who can sleep through the night.

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who never reads.

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who plays farmville during work.

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who cuts in front of people.

I wonder what it would be like to be the kind of girl who doesn’t care.


February 9, 2011

I’m looking for some meaningful advice in a candy wrapper and you give me this?

Lower the bar, higherarchy

August 12, 2010

Sometimes when I’m skimming other people’s blogs I see wishlists like this:

Things to do this summer

1. Travel Route 66

2. Have a watermelon seed fight

3. Eat a popsicle at top of  the Berry Street Park slide

4. Take 50 pictures of 50 year olds

5. Make tent with sheet and dining room table

6. Join art co-op

I am a different sort of person. I have no list. Why set myself up for failure?

I prefer to let my list self-create.  When a pleasant or quirky thing happens, it goes to the top of my list, (I prefer queue)  and is immediately crossed off. In this manner I avoid the disappointment and  feelings of inadequacy that an unfulfilled wishlist might produce.

This morning for example, I scared the pants off myself – quite an accomplishment, and something I’ve been meaning to do for some time. Now it’s on the list and it’s  already crossed off.

See, I was getting ready for work around 6 am, and I heard a woman’s voice whisper “Mary.” I screamed, “What?! What the …!”

Knowing no one was in the house but me, I was all astonishment. In fact I’ll go all Jeannie Ralston and say I jumped out of my skin, was shaking like a leaf, frozen with fear, struck dumb, and as white as a ghost. And all of this before the sun had even risen “like a  sliver of near-neon orange that was spreading out on the horizon like a just-split egg yolk.”

A life, any life, holds such promise for self-creating lists of  inconsequential greatness.

self-created list of inconsequential greatness

1. Scare the shit out of myself

Much longer than a tweet + Copenhagen

June 11, 2010

The whole thing took about an hour and a half. I could have written a stupid blog post in that hour and a half. Or baked a pie. Or listened to my playlist called “These songs are a yes.”

Instead that hour and a half was spent attempting to close accounts for an out of state client who had already failed at her local branch. I had my ID and notarized letters of instruction and court certified documents and a red purse with business cards in it. Surely my red purse would lend me an air of authority. The customer service representative, I’ll call her Sophia, glanced at the paperwork and looked lost. She had on a pretty ring with purple and green stones. I wanted to compliment her but I didn’t want to seem too enthusiastic because I knew eventually she’d screw me over.

She dialed a number. We waited. Someone answered and she tried to read the court certified letters of administration out loud to a cog in the wheel they call the legal department, probably thousands of miles away. Sophia couldn’t pronounce prerequisite. She stumbled around with it and finally decided on “prereziquit.” The word decedent also took a wrong turn in her mouth and became descendant.

I was getting an uncomfortable feeling. When people who are supposed to be helping me can’t read, it gives me a bad vibe. The discussion went on for some time with more reading and mispronouncing and misstating of the facts. “My manager isn’t here today,” she told the cog. I felt a tear form but brushed it away.

“Let’s see if we can’t get this taken care of,” Sophia said somewhat unconvincingly.

She left the desk to consult with the assistant manager. I stared at the cup full of lollipops on her desk and thought of Copenhagen. I love the sound of it – the way it bounces around on my lips when I say it.  I’ve never been there. I’ve never been to Europe actually. I’ve read that it can take weeks or even months to complete simple transactions in Europe. I doodled. I deleted messages from my phone. I rubbed something sticky off the side of my sandal.

Eventually Sophia returned with the assistant manager, I’ll call her Clarice. She said something like “Well here’s the problem. We’re not going to be able to do this for you today.” Something about the absence of the client and the “scope” of their regulations and the Gulf oil spill and the price of grain futures.

This is where I got snippy and told them that I knew they wouldn’t do it, that their bank was the worst to deal with and that before I’d left my office that morning I’d said “Lord have mercy. I’ll be there all morning and nothing will get resolved.” That’s a real quote by the way. I even turned my eyes heavenward when I said it. Clarice said there was no reason to get upset. I said I knew there wasn’t, but I just needed to let them know that we’ve never referred a client to their bank and it makes me sad when I have to deal with them.

Clarice said “Here’s what I can do. I can try to get the rep from the Rhode Island branch on the phone and find out why your client wasn’t able to get the accounts closed out. Because this is the proper paperwork and she should be allowed to do it.”

“That would be wonderful,” I said. “It would be wonderful if you could even reach someone at the branch, because I already tried that and no one picked up the phone. Ever.”

Apparently I made enough of a scene that Clarice thought we should conduct further business in her office. From her office she tried to call the Rhode Island representative’s number and no one picked up. She searched for a better number for the branch. I think she was searching on the bank’s web page. There was no number listed. She called another person in, maybe her name was Ophelia, to look at the site and show her that there was no number listed for the branch.  She tried to call the customer service number and bypass the prompts by saying “Speak to a representative.”  In response she got, “Incorrect prompt.” I looked on sympathetically. While she continued her quest I complimented her on the roses on her desk. Now we were conversing like old friends. Her birthday was a few days ago… “Speak to a representative!” Her daughter got them for her. Her daughter attends the same college my daughter used to attend. She shares a condo with a roommate…“Speak to a representative!” After 3 or 4 tries she hung up.

She looked in the company directory, found the rep’s number, and it was the same number she’d already called so she called it again. And it just rang again. She found a number for branch manager and dialed her but she didn’t pick up either. She left her a voicemail. She also sent an email, which took her 10 minutes to compose.

I apologized for getting testy. We chatted about foreclosures and kids and crazy customers, like the one I’d seen a few weeks ago walking up and down the sidewalk with a sign that said “I pray for Bank X to fail” and “Honk if you hate Bank X.”  I apologized again before leaving and gave a little wave. I’m a lady. I’ve just turned into Audrey Hepburn. All I need are white gloves and a little purse that clicks shut with a snap.

After lunch I check my voice mail. It’s Clarice! “The manager from Rhode Island will call your client and tell her what she needs to do. I just wanted to let you know. If you need anything, I’m here.” she says earnestly. I press star 3 to delete.

Sometimes I dream of Copenhagen.