Wednesday, January 6, 2010

The 'Button'

Here are a few things about buttons in general:

1. Wally loves hearing me say the word buttons. The reason is because when I say it I over pronounce the t's. I also do this with the words: mittens, kitten's and Tim Horton's. I only started doing this a few years ago when one of the kids I mentored when I was a youth worker did it. Now I can't seem to stop. If I try I feel like I'm doing an English accent or something. I don't get it.

2. I bought a new coat over the holidays. It was on sale because of Boxing Day - that's how I roll ... with the sales I mean. It was on even more sale because every coat in the store had button's falling off. I started browsing and noticed right away this was the case. The sales girl saw my reluctance to commit to a coat. Mostly it was because I didn't know whether I looked better with or without a belt, but I'm assuming she thought it was the missing button epidemic that took over the store. I was thinkin' this because she immediately let me know that if I wanted I could get an additional 10% off of my coat purchase because of the missing buttons

If I wanted? Are you kidding me lady? That's the dumbest offer statement I've ever heard. Like, I'm going to say 'No thanks, I want to pay full price for this article of clothing that is falling apart at the seams. Come to think of it, can I throw in a 25% tip also, just because you are that nice? Yeah, duh! The funny part was as she was showing me how I could wear the belt this way and that (really when the belt is attached to the coat there is only one way to wear it - even I know that)she was mentioning how the coat didn't really need the 25 decorative buttons that were on the coat either. You know, in case they fell off. Well geez, way to sell the coat. Unfortunately for her I'm not 6. Fortunately for her I am a bargain hunter.

I bought the coat with the missing buttons, came home determined to re sew all of the buttons back on before I wore it out. I wore it out, forgot to remove the tag on the sleeve, forgot to snip the threads int he back 'vent area', and decided that the already missing button on the front wasn't all that necessary (who needs their coat to close up int he winter anyways?)

While I was out another button fell off. It was a decorative one. She said I didn't need it...

Ok so on to the third and final button (like my sermon?)

The anticipation button. Was that what I called it? Or was it the adrenaline button? I can't remember, it was a button of some persuasion I know that. Anyways, I don't know that I found it regarding my desire to melt my bod into ... well a bod of less proportion.

I was at work today meeting with my new supervisor, blah, blah, blah. aNd they were starting this 'Biggest Loser' thing.


I did this last year at my gym and failed miserably. I began to detest the little psychology analysis I got each time I weighed in and didn't lose weight, and I thought I had better never do such a thing again if I didn't want to end up in jail for homicide. However I've been looking for my 'inciting incident'. (I'm reading a book, a good book. I'll have to expand on it later. It's a me book, I'll say that much.)

Where was I?

Yeah I have been trying to find something basically I could commit to that would MAKE me succeed at my goals. I'm not sure if this is it, I guess we'll see. I really didn't want to do this. I mean I like JUST started working there, did I really want a complete stranger weighing me in? I think I'd rather streak naked in the woods. Ok so streaking naked in the woods probably wouldn't be that bad ... my point is I wasn't too keen on the whole thing. Also, we are put into teams to 'encourage' eachother. (That's a nice way of saying eagle eying every morsel of food that goes into eachother's mouths - whatever.)

However for the sake of losing my pride and humbling my self, (and a last ditch effort to look great in a party dress in April) I joined the stupid thing.

Anyways, we'll see. I think I'm going to do it and rock it just so I have something to be cranky about for the next 3 months. I'm kinda funny when I'm cranky. Well to a point, until the knives come out and well we'll hope that doesn't happen.

So today at 12:15 pm I weighed in at... well I have to admit I have absolutely no clue. I looked away from the scale and put the weigher lady in a CPI hold and told her if she breathed my weight out loud or to anyone else I'd hunt her down and put laxatives in her coffee when she wasn't looking. she promised not to tell and asked me if I was sure I didn't want to know. She didn't need her right arm.

I immediately came home and prepared for my stint in my real life 'Biggest Loser'. I went to the grocery store and bought chips to help me finish off my spinach dip, and a dozen bakery chocolate chip cookies. I came home and ate the rest of the dip, with a handful of chips (cause really there wasn't much dip left). Slugged back a giant glass of Coke, ate half of the cookies, felt boated and wondered what I would eat for supper later.

When I got home from a short 2 hour shift I thought I'd top off my night (along with my Wally), by taking it easy and SPLITTING a slice of pizza at the old people mall beside us. Of course we tripped over the dollar store on the way home and picked up some Swedish Berries and peanut butter cups, you know, to make my commitment real.

I just checked my e-mail. Saw who was on my team. Shouldn't you have something to lose in order to be a part of 'The biggest loser'? Whatever. Skinny bitches. Stupid buttons.

Sorry I'm getting a little cranky.

Eating ... peanut ... butter ... cups.


Gramma's in love - Part duex

The other day I called my Gramma to finally tell her that Wally got a job (after my mama had asked me on the two previous phone calls if I had yet I figured it was time).

Not far into the conversation she shared that her and Boyfriend Grampa exchanged Christmas gifts. I'm not sure why they had already. I was three days or so before Christmas, they live like in side by side buildings, they see eachother every day. Maybe it's a near death thing.

She told me that Boyfriend Grampa bought her beautiful earrings. They were shaped like hearts - have gold, half silver. THere was a pause after she gave the details. I was supposed to comment ... alot. I did.

I said 'Maybe next time it'll be jewelery for your hand' (hee hee).

She didn't 'hee hee'.

Instead she got all serious like I offended her, which surprised me because her and Boyfriend Grampa were very obviously smitten with each other. I felt bad that I hit a nerve. and was all ready to apologize. She didn't give me a chance.

'No' she said with a brand new tone, 'That won't be happening.' (Slight pause). 'I'll tell you something though, that I haven't told many. We've talked about that.'

Apparently 'that' is a secret word.

She continued ... 'I looked into things and we found out that if we *cough cough* got married, I would lose a thousand dollars a month of your grandfather's pension. IT just wouldn't be worth it'.

I simply replied 'Oh' - since I was really only trying to lighten the conversation (not deplete it from all joy). We finished our conversation and I hung up the phone.

My 'living self' began to go on a tangent. It was all in a tither. 'How could anyone think money is more important than love. Especially at their age.' Keep in mind I'm not a romantic -ey thinker. I kept on.

'They are old. They found love again. They should forget about the money and just get hitched already. If that's what they want they need to go for it! How ridiculous! They must not be that serious. They can't love eachother THAT much. Silly. How silly.'

Then as I was retelling the conversation to Wally I realized something. Gramma's 75. Boyfriend Grampa's 84. (Apparently some of her friends didn't approve ... because of the 'age difference' ... I thought old was old. I guess I was wrong.) He, Boyfriend Grampa, constantly teases that he's living on borrowed time, that he will go any day now so he's going to enjoy havin' a lady. Gramma is full of life. Never been truly sick in her life (other than when everyone else was sick that she was caring for - even that wasn't for long). Gramma could live for another 20 years easy. Statistically she will likely outlive Boyfriend Grampa. If she married him she'd lose virtually 2/3's of her income. If he died, sorry I mean when he dies, she's basically screwed.

I then was very impressed at their forethought on the matter and realized how serious they were about one another. My mother later said that Boyfriend Grampa didn't want Gramma to be put in a situation that could possibly do her financial harm for the future. My heart softened.

As I mentioned before I'm not a romantic-ey person. The only thing I romanticize is life really. You know nothing big. Not like relationships and stuff.

But when I heard about my 75 year old Gramma not feeling freedom to be able to marry her love, I felt romantic. I felt like I was witnessing a real Romeo and Juliet. Except they were 60 years older. And their families approved. Ok so maybe that's a bad comparison. But you know. Love that couldn't fully Blossom, couldn't fully be realized.

It made me sad a little.

Then Gramma said something that made me less sad. She said very practically 'It's ok. He comes over around 3 in the afternoon everyday and stays for supper. We see eachother everyday.' Gramma seemed completely satisfied with the solution.

I got to thinking. Maybe the government with all of it's pension rules knows what it's doing after all.

Keeping love young. Keeping love on fire. Keeping love waiting for the next time it will be encountered.

Well sometimes it's nice to pretend.