One of my biggest pet peeves is people with really poor grammar or who badly mispronounce words. I work for a fabric company and we take orders over the phone. Some of our patterns do have some funny names that can be mispronounced very easily, but others are so basic that people make more difficult than they are.
The one name that most people can't pronounce is "effervescence." Most people try two or three times and then just start spelling it. Is it really that difficult? So many people say buffet (pronounced buffay) with the "t" sound at the end. It always reminds me of Don Knotts character, Mr. Ferley on "Three's Company." He would always talk about going out for "escarGOTS." I think the one that made me laugh the most was when someone asked for the pattern "ElemenTARy" as opposed to, elementary.
Another big pet peeve of mine, is when people pronounce the word "pattern" as if it was a three syllable word, pronounce "patterin." I really, really can't stress how much I hate that. This is probably because I hear it so much!
One time, I customer called in to check stock on some fabric. I asked for the pattern name, and he tried to say it a few times, only to give up and finally spell the word, "EQUESTRIAN." Really? Seriously? Have we really become so ignorant and lacking in vocabulary that we don't know a word like equestrian?
It is days like that, that I come home and have my daughter get out as many books as she would like us to read together. If I have one goal in life, it is for my daughter to grow up to be a well rounded, educated and articulate person. I want her to love books and reading and everything it has to offer. She will know the difference between chatting/texting abbreviations and the real spelling of words. At least, I hope she will.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Moving
Anytime that I think about moving I cringe. I've had to move quite a few times in my life, and I never enjoyed it. When I was about 28, I moved five times in one year! The short version of that story is:
- moved in with boyfriend after only dating for six weeks (of course in hindsight this is where all the trouble began in the first place).
- had to move into new place 3 weeks later, because boyfriend's apartment did not allow children on the third floor (we find out after I move in).
- 6 months later had to move out of that place because landlord is a crazy lady who is constantly knocking on our door and wanting to inspect our suite, yada yada.
- 4 months later break up with boyfriend (again, this all could have probably been avoided if I had only waited longer to move in with the boyfriend) and move back in with my parents.
- one month later I move into my own apartment.
One could say that I had definitely had my fill of moving after that. We moved around a few times when I was growing up as well. Most of the moves were not very far, but they were usually unexpected and not really by choice. My parents rented, so usually when we moved it was because we were given notice due to our landlords selling our our (their) house or deciding to move in themselves. There were a few times while I was in my teens that we ended up moving.
I can remember the anxiety that I would feel every time my parents told me that we were moving again. First I would be stressed about finding a new house in time before we had to be out of our current house. Let me tell you, sometimes it was close. I can remember one time that we found a house literally two days before we were supposed to move. Even as a child, I was the worry wart. As a 12 year old, I would be scouring the classifieds looking for a house, pointing out ads to my parents. They would always calmly tell me not to worry and that everything would work out. Well, we never ended up homeless, and everything did always have a way of working out.
One way or another, we always found a house. Then there was always the task of actually moving. I don't ever remember my parents hiring movers or even renting a truck. Somehow, people (and a truck or two) would always show up to help. Of course I would also worry about having enough help, and would grill my parents if they asked everyone that they could. I was always calmly told that everything would work out, and it did.
As much of a pain that moving is, there was always something fresh and new about unpacking in a new house. I always enjoyed setting up my bedroom just how I liked it. The space was totally mine to arrange how I liked. I also hadn't had time to get my room messy (as a teenager my room was constantly messy) and it always felt like a fresh start.
At times when we moved a little farther, I could even reinvent myself a little if I chose to. When I started grade 2, I moved to a new school. I decided that I wanted people to call me by my full name, Catherine, rather than by Cathy. My parents and family still called me Cathy. I signed all of my assignments as Catherine, and eventually everyone was calling me Catherine. All through elementary school people called me Catherine. The summer before grade 8, we moved to a new neighbourhood where I'd be starting high school full of students who didn't know me. By then, I felt like the name Catherine was too stuffy and pretentious (I apologize to anyone who goes by Catherine). I wanted to be a Cathy again, so my new school was the opportunity to change myself yet again.
Change can definitely be a good thing. How do I feel about moving now? I still loathe it. I still stress about finding a new place in time, about the movers and about getting everything packed in time. However, there is still a small part of me that likes setting up the new house and moving on with the next page of my life.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Procrastination
If there is one downfall that I have, it's procrastination. I have become so good at procrastination that I have turned it into an art form. Whether it is doing my taxes, writing papers back in University, paying bills or getting gas, I leave it until the last possible second. Sometimes later than the last second.
If you've seen the Seinfeld episode "The Dealership" (did I mention before that I've seen every episode of Seinfeld a million times, give or take, and that I believe everything in life can be related to Seinfeld?) you'll remember the part where Kramer is taking Jerry's possible new car for a test drive. He specifically wants to know how far below "E" he can get the gas gage to go before it runs out of gas. That is totally me. I've always known how far below empty my gas gage can go before I absolutely have to get gas. Why do I wait this long? One reason: if it can wait until later, I wait, pure and simple. Have a ever run out of gas? Yes, a few times. Of course, the best story is when I was on my way to the gas station at the bottom of a big hill. I was driving down the hill and I had about four more blocks to go until the gas station. The car started to sputter and then stalled as I was cruising down the hill. I managed to cruise down the hill and pull into the gas station simply because I was going down a hill.
In university I became very skilled at writing papers at the last minute. I think the best that I ever did was write a 15 page paper in one day, the day that it was due. You should also keep in mind that this was an extended due date with no more extensions allowed. I had to drive the 45 minutes to campus by 5:00 pm to deliver the paper. I started the day with about three cups of coffee and started typing. By lunch time I needed two more cups of coffee. By then my fingers were typing faster than the speed of light. I got the paper done and printed just in the nick of time. I had the paper delivered by 4:55pm. I actually had five minutes to spare! Every time I got a grade back on a paper that I had rushed at the last minute, I usually had a pretty good grade. If I got a "B" I would think to myself, "Wow, that's pretty good considering how little time I actually spent on that." Of course, I would also wonder what kind of grade I would have gotten if I'd actually put some effort into it.
I think the biggest question I always ask myself is, "Why do I procrastinate so much?" I know part of it is laziness, there is no doubt about that. I think the other part is just that once I knew I could get away with something once, I kept doing it. Once I let that gas gage get below empty the first time, and I didn't run out of gas, it became acceptable in my mind to keep letting it get that low. The first time I handed in a paper a few days late to a professor and he didn't penalize me for it, I then got in the habit of always handing them in late, and later than late.
But for me, I think a big part of it is the thrill. I actually enjoy the risk of running out of gas and waiting until the last possible second to get it. I enjoy being able to say that I wrote a 15 page paper in a few hours and I got a decent grade on it. It's like a challenge that I set up for myself and I have to beat it.
Am I a little disturbed? Most definitely. Will I ever stop procrastinating? Probably not. I am better about the gas, sometimes. I do still make people nervous when they are passengers in my car. I'll see a quarter of a tank and think there is tons, while they ask me if I need to stop and get gas. If only they knew how I like to live on the edge.
If you've seen the Seinfeld episode "The Dealership" (did I mention before that I've seen every episode of Seinfeld a million times, give or take, and that I believe everything in life can be related to Seinfeld?) you'll remember the part where Kramer is taking Jerry's possible new car for a test drive. He specifically wants to know how far below "E" he can get the gas gage to go before it runs out of gas. That is totally me. I've always known how far below empty my gas gage can go before I absolutely have to get gas. Why do I wait this long? One reason: if it can wait until later, I wait, pure and simple. Have a ever run out of gas? Yes, a few times. Of course, the best story is when I was on my way to the gas station at the bottom of a big hill. I was driving down the hill and I had about four more blocks to go until the gas station. The car started to sputter and then stalled as I was cruising down the hill. I managed to cruise down the hill and pull into the gas station simply because I was going down a hill.
In university I became very skilled at writing papers at the last minute. I think the best that I ever did was write a 15 page paper in one day, the day that it was due. You should also keep in mind that this was an extended due date with no more extensions allowed. I had to drive the 45 minutes to campus by 5:00 pm to deliver the paper. I started the day with about three cups of coffee and started typing. By lunch time I needed two more cups of coffee. By then my fingers were typing faster than the speed of light. I got the paper done and printed just in the nick of time. I had the paper delivered by 4:55pm. I actually had five minutes to spare! Every time I got a grade back on a paper that I had rushed at the last minute, I usually had a pretty good grade. If I got a "B" I would think to myself, "Wow, that's pretty good considering how little time I actually spent on that." Of course, I would also wonder what kind of grade I would have gotten if I'd actually put some effort into it.
I think the biggest question I always ask myself is, "Why do I procrastinate so much?" I know part of it is laziness, there is no doubt about that. I think the other part is just that once I knew I could get away with something once, I kept doing it. Once I let that gas gage get below empty the first time, and I didn't run out of gas, it became acceptable in my mind to keep letting it get that low. The first time I handed in a paper a few days late to a professor and he didn't penalize me for it, I then got in the habit of always handing them in late, and later than late.
But for me, I think a big part of it is the thrill. I actually enjoy the risk of running out of gas and waiting until the last possible second to get it. I enjoy being able to say that I wrote a 15 page paper in a few hours and I got a decent grade on it. It's like a challenge that I set up for myself and I have to beat it.
Am I a little disturbed? Most definitely. Will I ever stop procrastinating? Probably not. I am better about the gas, sometimes. I do still make people nervous when they are passengers in my car. I'll see a quarter of a tank and think there is tons, while they ask me if I need to stop and get gas. If only they knew how I like to live on the edge.
Friday, August 28, 2009
First of all, I would like to apologize for my blogging strike. The new duties that I have taken on took quite a toll on me this week and my brain was quite literally mush. I was promoted to the returns department in my company. The job itself is not all that difficult. It does involve a little more multi-tasking and organizing, but that is O.K. The real down side is that I am basically the complaint department. I'm the one that gets to listen to designers whine and complain about the flawed fabric they received. Today I spent five minutes on the phone listening to a woman tell me the same story over and over, while I constantly repeated, "mm, hmmm, yep, uh huh, ya, mm, hmmm" over and and over again. Finally, when I could get a word in edge wise, I said, "Well anyway, like I said, we really can't do anything until we see a sample of the flawed fabric. I've issued the call tag. It will be picked up on Monday and we'll take it from there." She almost started to talk again except that I managed to squeeze in a goodbye and she stopped.
But enough about work. Today is Friday and I can forget about work for two whole days. Since I had the T.V. to myself tonight, I opted to watch, "And the Beat Goes On: The Sonny and Cher Movie." I will admit that I am a big time sucker for biography type movies about famous people. Of course, that could be my mom's influence. I can remember watching "Coal Minor's Daughter" with my mom when I was young. There's a few true life biographies that I've seen more than once such as "La Bamba," "Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story," "What's Love Got to Do With it?" just to name a few.
However, back to the movie I saw on T.V. tonight. I didn't grow up knowing "Sonny and Cher" since they were before my time. I first knew the Cher of the 80's with her wild curly hair and leather jackets. I loved her in the movie "Mask" (which is another true story that always makes me cry). But of course, who doesn't know the song, "I've Got You Babe"? (well, unless you grew up under a rock). I'll never forget the first time I saw an old clip of the Sonny and Cher Show on T.V. My parents of course recognized it when I heard my mom say "Sonny and Cher" I couldn't believe what I saw. I couldn't believe that it was the same person! Of course, the nose job might have changed how she looked just a bit.
After watching the movie tonight, I can see why Cher would have gotten a nose job. Sonny constantly ridiculed her about it. Of course, I also looked up a few You Tube clips to see the duo in action. Of course they joked and Cher insulted Sonny, but Sonny also made a lot of nose jokes. Once she did step out on her own independently, who could blame her for changing that?
While watching the movie, I started to get really sad when Cher caught Sonny cheating on her, because I knew that it was the beginning of the end for them. Of course, yes, I knew they split up, obviously. It's like watching The Titanic and being sad that the boat sinks, when you know all along that the boat is going to sink. There is no going back in history and changing the fact that the boat sinks, and yet we still hope that it won't.
But enough about work. Today is Friday and I can forget about work for two whole days. Since I had the T.V. to myself tonight, I opted to watch, "And the Beat Goes On: The Sonny and Cher Movie." I will admit that I am a big time sucker for biography type movies about famous people. Of course, that could be my mom's influence. I can remember watching "Coal Minor's Daughter" with my mom when I was young. There's a few true life biographies that I've seen more than once such as "La Bamba," "Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story," "What's Love Got to Do With it?" just to name a few.
However, back to the movie I saw on T.V. tonight. I didn't grow up knowing "Sonny and Cher" since they were before my time. I first knew the Cher of the 80's with her wild curly hair and leather jackets. I loved her in the movie "Mask" (which is another true story that always makes me cry). But of course, who doesn't know the song, "I've Got You Babe"? (well, unless you grew up under a rock). I'll never forget the first time I saw an old clip of the Sonny and Cher Show on T.V. My parents of course recognized it when I heard my mom say "Sonny and Cher" I couldn't believe what I saw. I couldn't believe that it was the same person! Of course, the nose job might have changed how she looked just a bit.
After watching the movie tonight, I can see why Cher would have gotten a nose job. Sonny constantly ridiculed her about it. Of course, I also looked up a few You Tube clips to see the duo in action. Of course they joked and Cher insulted Sonny, but Sonny also made a lot of nose jokes. Once she did step out on her own independently, who could blame her for changing that?
While watching the movie, I started to get really sad when Cher caught Sonny cheating on her, because I knew that it was the beginning of the end for them. Of course, yes, I knew they split up, obviously. It's like watching The Titanic and being sad that the boat sinks, when you know all along that the boat is going to sink. There is no going back in history and changing the fact that the boat sinks, and yet we still hope that it won't.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Guilty Pleasures
It is one of those nights that I love. Elisa (my six year old daughter) is in bed and Rob is out. I have the house to myself to do as I wish. I have a confession to make. As much as I try to deny it, I am a reality T.V. junkie. What is it about watching the fights, break downs, joys and triumphs of "real lives" that is so appealing?
When Rob and I first started dating it was a bit long distance, which meant lots of phone calls. One night as we were talking on the phone, Rob said he had to ask me a very important question. He asked if I watch reality T.V. shows. My immediate response was no, but then I added that I did watch Supernanny occasionally. He said that was O.K. as long as I didn't have a bunch of reality T.V. shows that I watched.
Of course, as a single mother on a limited budget, I only had basic cable. Once Rob and I moved in together, I discovered a bunch more shows that I liked on channels that I didn't have before. They were all reality T.V. shows.
I try not to subject Rob to my junk shows too often. He doesn't understand how I can enjoy watching Gordon Ramsay yelling obscenities at the cooks on Hell's Kitchen, or how I find the crazy people fighting on Trading Spouses entertaining. I will admit it, I like the freaks. I like watching the obsessively religious/Christian mom trying to convert an atheist family. It's futile and hilarious at the same time. I also get some kind of sick pleasure out of watching real life fights resembling that of a Jerry Springer brawl.
I think it's human nature. It's the same reason that everyone slows down when they drive by a car crash. Are they genuinely concerned with the welfare of the people? Of course not. They want to see how crunched up the cars are, and possibly whose fault the accident was.
Since I got tired of hearing how reality shows are going to rot my brain and I'll have no memory left by the time I'm 50, I have stopped watching reality T.V. shows while Rob is around. However, on a night like this, I will indulge in my guilty little pleasure without anyone around to chastise me for it. As long as I never resemble "Peggy Bundy" (from Married With Children) sitting on the couch eating bonbons all day, I'll know that the reality shows have not harmed me that much.
When Rob and I first started dating it was a bit long distance, which meant lots of phone calls. One night as we were talking on the phone, Rob said he had to ask me a very important question. He asked if I watch reality T.V. shows. My immediate response was no, but then I added that I did watch Supernanny occasionally. He said that was O.K. as long as I didn't have a bunch of reality T.V. shows that I watched.
Of course, as a single mother on a limited budget, I only had basic cable. Once Rob and I moved in together, I discovered a bunch more shows that I liked on channels that I didn't have before. They were all reality T.V. shows.
I try not to subject Rob to my junk shows too often. He doesn't understand how I can enjoy watching Gordon Ramsay yelling obscenities at the cooks on Hell's Kitchen, or how I find the crazy people fighting on Trading Spouses entertaining. I will admit it, I like the freaks. I like watching the obsessively religious/Christian mom trying to convert an atheist family. It's futile and hilarious at the same time. I also get some kind of sick pleasure out of watching real life fights resembling that of a Jerry Springer brawl.
I think it's human nature. It's the same reason that everyone slows down when they drive by a car crash. Are they genuinely concerned with the welfare of the people? Of course not. They want to see how crunched up the cars are, and possibly whose fault the accident was.
Since I got tired of hearing how reality shows are going to rot my brain and I'll have no memory left by the time I'm 50, I have stopped watching reality T.V. shows while Rob is around. However, on a night like this, I will indulge in my guilty little pleasure without anyone around to chastise me for it. As long as I never resemble "Peggy Bundy" (from Married With Children) sitting on the couch eating bonbons all day, I'll know that the reality shows have not harmed me that much.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Watch Out, the Crazy Lady is Loose!
I recently received a promotion at work, which is a good thing, but for the last few days my brain has felt like mush with all the new things that I've had to learn. It literally feels like my very first day at that job all over again with all the new things that I'm learning.
So Wednesday was my first day of training for the duties of my new position. By the end of the day my brain is absolutely fried and the very last thing that I feel like doing is cooking dinner. I get home and I will admit that I was a little annoyed and frustrated. Rob usually does the dishes after he gets home from work because he gets home so much earlier than me, and I usually do most of the cooking. I get home, and the dishes are not done, which I really shouldn't complain about, but I had to scrub the one pot that I needed to cook dinner. Rob could tell that I was upset and kept asking me what was wrong.
Now, although he wanted to help with whatever was wrong, I was not in a place to talk about it. I was teetering on the edge of a cliff between being normal and just completely breaking down. Every time that he would ask what was wrong, I would reply a curt, "nothing" which of course annoyed him and made him prod further, of course aggravating me more and the cycle continues.
I finally snap and tell him to just leave me alone and let me cook the stupid dinner. I get the dinner cooked without killing anyone. I dish out dinner for Elisa and Rob, then announce that I'm going to the bedroom to lay down. I lay down on the bed and curl up in the fetal position and have a good cry. I had so much built up stress and frustration from the day that I just needed to get out. Sometimes a good cry can really cure all.
After I stopped crying I laid there for a while calming down. Then I start thinking about how I was acting and I'm ashamed of myself for having a temper tantrum that could put my daughter's tantrums to shame. I then decide to suck it up and go back out to the living room. Rob looks at me and asks me if I'm going to have something to eat now. I say yes, but first I go over to him and give him a hug and tell him that I'm sorry and I wasn't mad at him I was just frustrated with my day and I was taking it out on him. He forgave me for being a crazy woman and we went on with our night as usual.
The truth is, I've always been a person that has needed time to decompress after a hard day. My mom always said that even when I was in grade one I needed time to relax and calm down before I was ready to talk about my day. Sometimes I forget to take that time. If I had just sat down for five minutes and told Rob about my day and how overwhelmed I felt that day, then perhaps the whole fiasco could have been avoided.
Thankfully, Rob is patient with me and has accepted the fact that I am a little insane at times.
So Wednesday was my first day of training for the duties of my new position. By the end of the day my brain is absolutely fried and the very last thing that I feel like doing is cooking dinner. I get home and I will admit that I was a little annoyed and frustrated. Rob usually does the dishes after he gets home from work because he gets home so much earlier than me, and I usually do most of the cooking. I get home, and the dishes are not done, which I really shouldn't complain about, but I had to scrub the one pot that I needed to cook dinner. Rob could tell that I was upset and kept asking me what was wrong.
Now, although he wanted to help with whatever was wrong, I was not in a place to talk about it. I was teetering on the edge of a cliff between being normal and just completely breaking down. Every time that he would ask what was wrong, I would reply a curt, "nothing" which of course annoyed him and made him prod further, of course aggravating me more and the cycle continues.
I finally snap and tell him to just leave me alone and let me cook the stupid dinner. I get the dinner cooked without killing anyone. I dish out dinner for Elisa and Rob, then announce that I'm going to the bedroom to lay down. I lay down on the bed and curl up in the fetal position and have a good cry. I had so much built up stress and frustration from the day that I just needed to get out. Sometimes a good cry can really cure all.
After I stopped crying I laid there for a while calming down. Then I start thinking about how I was acting and I'm ashamed of myself for having a temper tantrum that could put my daughter's tantrums to shame. I then decide to suck it up and go back out to the living room. Rob looks at me and asks me if I'm going to have something to eat now. I say yes, but first I go over to him and give him a hug and tell him that I'm sorry and I wasn't mad at him I was just frustrated with my day and I was taking it out on him. He forgave me for being a crazy woman and we went on with our night as usual.
The truth is, I've always been a person that has needed time to decompress after a hard day. My mom always said that even when I was in grade one I needed time to relax and calm down before I was ready to talk about my day. Sometimes I forget to take that time. If I had just sat down for five minutes and told Rob about my day and how overwhelmed I felt that day, then perhaps the whole fiasco could have been avoided.
Thankfully, Rob is patient with me and has accepted the fact that I am a little insane at times.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Before Internet
Well, the blogging gods are certainly against me the last couple of days. Our internet at home has not been working the last couple of days. I'm assuming it's just an issue with our landlord's wireless router which will be resolved. So, today I was determined that I would be able to write today's blog post at work during my 30 minute break. I'm at work for about an hour, and my computer completely dies. I was computer less the rest of the day. I did what I could without a computer and borrowed people's when needed, but it didn't look like I was going to be able to go on the internet during my break.
I'm not really sure what I ever did before the internet. I've become so dependent on it. I remember hearing something about the internet and email when I was in high school, but of course I knew nothing of what it was. I remember going away to university in 1995. The university bragged that the dorm rooms had internet hooked up. I brought my ancient computer that I had bought second had two years prior and it certainly didn't have a modem. It was an old IBM computer, the kind with the black screens and the bright green writing that blinded you. I didn't have internet, but I did write quite a few essays on that thing. Since I was away from home, I was also very dependent on letters by mail. I would wait anxiously for the mail to come each day. I lived for those letters.
It was about a year later that a friend of mine showed me how to set up my first hotmail email account. After that I was hooked. I would check my email 50 million times a day, hoping for some new joke or forward from one of my friends.
Whenever I want to know something, Google is my best friend. Information is constantly at my fingertips. I'm sure Elisa will laugh at my when I tell her how "back in the old days we had to look information up in Encyclopedias."
However, there are some things that I miss. I love how fast email is, but there is nothing quite the same as getting a piece of mail and opening it up (when it's not a bill of course). Perhaps I'll try to teach Elisa about the art of letter writing, now that she is just starting to really be able to sound out words and wanting to practice her writing. Maybe I'll find a pen pal for her, or get her her first journal. I real, paper journal that she can put all her thoughts and feelings in.
Well, I'm going to go back home now to my home without internet. Whatever will I do with myself without my facebook and email? Well, as long as I still have my television then I'll be O.K. Heaven forbid if it was all taken away!
I'm not really sure what I ever did before the internet. I've become so dependent on it. I remember hearing something about the internet and email when I was in high school, but of course I knew nothing of what it was. I remember going away to university in 1995. The university bragged that the dorm rooms had internet hooked up. I brought my ancient computer that I had bought second had two years prior and it certainly didn't have a modem. It was an old IBM computer, the kind with the black screens and the bright green writing that blinded you. I didn't have internet, but I did write quite a few essays on that thing. Since I was away from home, I was also very dependent on letters by mail. I would wait anxiously for the mail to come each day. I lived for those letters.
It was about a year later that a friend of mine showed me how to set up my first hotmail email account. After that I was hooked. I would check my email 50 million times a day, hoping for some new joke or forward from one of my friends.
Whenever I want to know something, Google is my best friend. Information is constantly at my fingertips. I'm sure Elisa will laugh at my when I tell her how "back in the old days we had to look information up in Encyclopedias."
However, there are some things that I miss. I love how fast email is, but there is nothing quite the same as getting a piece of mail and opening it up (when it's not a bill of course). Perhaps I'll try to teach Elisa about the art of letter writing, now that she is just starting to really be able to sound out words and wanting to practice her writing. Maybe I'll find a pen pal for her, or get her her first journal. I real, paper journal that she can put all her thoughts and feelings in.
Well, I'm going to go back home now to my home without internet. Whatever will I do with myself without my facebook and email? Well, as long as I still have my television then I'll be O.K. Heaven forbid if it was all taken away!
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